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He didn't need a map. He could feel the rot in the air, a sour, metallic tang that bypassed the nose and settled in the marrow. As he stepped into the elevator, his reflection in the polished chrome shifted. For a flickering second, he wasn't the man in the designer suit; he was the bearded barbarian with iron in his eyes and the Queen's curse burning in his blood. The Last Witch Hunter Telegram Link
"The hunt never ends, Dolan," Kaulder replied, checking the hidden blade in his sleeve. "It just changes clothes." Disclaimer: This article is for informational and community
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