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  “We agreed to come for her ourselves. Those damn draft officers only scare the human females when they drag them out of their homes. And she’s already scared enough of me as it is.” Deep sounded unhappy.

  “Still, it’s official procedure.” Lock sighed. “Don’t worry about the dreams, Deep. She just needs to get to know you. We’ll take things slowly during the Claiming period. Very slowly.”

  “Agreed. If there is a Claiming period.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Lock demanded as they went through the gate of the white picket fence surrounding the house with the gingerbread trim.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but this is an official crime scene,” a voice said, before Deep could answer. The point of view looked down and Kat saw a human police officer standing there with his thumbs hooked in his belt, frowning and blocking the walkway.

  “We’re Kindred,” Deep said smoothly. “Here on official business.”

  The cop got a mulish look on his face. “Well, I’m afraid your business will have to wait. Crime scene takes precedence.”

  “Give it up, Murphy.” Another policeman, this one a middle aged woman with her black hair scraped back into a ponytail, came to stand beside him. “It’s not really a crime scene when she meant to off herself.”

  “That’s not our call to make. The Coroner’ll decide if it was suicide or not,” the first policeman said stubbornly.

  “Suicide?” Lock sounded worried. “What are you talking about? Who—?”

  “There they are! Let them through, officers. Let them through—those are the murderers.” A young woman with scraggly, brownish-blonde hair came running out onto the front porch. She was pointing to Lock and Deep and sobbing hysterically.

  “Murderers, eh?” The first policeman, Murphy, looked at them with considerably more interest. “You gentlemen care to explain that?”

  “Officer, I assure you that my brother and I have never even been on this planet until this morning and we—” Lock began but Deep was already pushing past the officers and rushing to the front porch.

  “Where is she?” Kat saw his large hands grip the hysterical girl and give her a firm shake. “Where’s Miranda?” he demanded.

  “You want to see her?” the girl shouted through her sobs. “You want to see what you did to her, you son-of-a-bitch?”

  “Yes, I want to see her, damn it!” Deep’s voice was fierce now. Fierce and fearful—Kat could hear the dread throbbing in his tone. The knowledge of what he might find if he followed the crying girl into the house. But he went with her anyway, climbing a staircase and going down a hallway to the bedroom at the end.

  Kat could hear soft sounds of grief coming from behind one door and there were two paramedics just leaving the far bedroom as they entered it. “Hey, I thought the police didn’t want anyone going in there,” one protested as Deep and the girl brushed past them.

  “Official business,” Deep said, but his voice sounded hollow and strained.

  At the door to the bedroom, the girl turned to face him, her face pale and blotchy with tears. “So you finally came for her. She said you would. It was all she talked about for the past month.” Her voice went high and scared as though she was imitating someone. “‘The dark one—I don’t know his name but he won’t leave me alone. Every time I close my eyes I see him…coming for me, reaching out to touch me.’”

  “Enough. Let me see her,” Deep sounded quiet but dangerous. “She’s supposed to be our bride—I have a right to see her.”

  “She was never going to go with you,” the girl spat. “She made sure of that. You want to see? Fine, have a look!”

  She flung open the door, revealing a room that was decorated in cream and pink and butter yellow. A cheerful room with a canopy bed against one wall and set of French doors leading out onto a balcony covered with climbing ivy.

  It was cheerful, that was, until you noticed what was lying on the bed. Kat didn’t want to see it but somehow she couldn’t look away as Deep approached.

  At first it looked like a doll. A life sized doll with hair the same brownish-blonde as the crying girl’s. But it was clear when you got closer that the doll was broken—its large, china blue eyes were wide and staring at the canopy overhead, its mouth frozen half open, as though it wanted to speak.

  Oh my God, Kat thought numbly. It’s not a doll—it’s a girl. And she’s dead. She’s really dead.

  “Gods!” There was a sudden, dizzying shift in the point of view and Kat realized that Deep had fallen to his knees. “Miranda!” he whispered hoarsely.

  “I found her like this when I came to get her for breakfast.” The crying girl, who had to be Miranda’s sister, sounded numb. “She took my mom’s pills—all of them. And she left this.” She thrust a crumpled piece of notebook paper into Deep’s hands. “Read it,” she demanded.

  Deep bowed his head and the words on the paper came into focus.

  They’re coming for me and the dark one won’t leave until he gets me. I see them every night getting closer and closer. I just want him to leave me alone. I just want the dreams to stop. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…

  There might have been more but Kat couldn’t read it. The point of view was suddenly blurry. When she heard Deep speak again, she understood why.

  “She wrote this?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Before she…”

  “Killed herself. Yes,” the girl said flatly. “She was so afraid of what you were going to do to her. So afraid she would rather be dead than let you get her.” She ran both hands through her hair distractedly. “Miranda had her whole life ahead of her. She was in college—she was going to be a vet because she loved animals. Did you know that? Did you know anything about her except that you wanted her?”

  “This was never our intention,” Deep protested. “We’d been dream sharing for weeks. I knew she was frightened of us…of me. But I never thought—”

  “That she’d go this far? I didn’t either.” Her voice began to rise in pitch. “I knew something wasn’t right last night. I never should have left her. Never should have—”

  “None of this is your fault.” Deep stood slowly, never looking away from the dead girl on the bed. “None of it. I bear this blame alone.”

  “End memory,” a soft, mechanical voice said. There was a clicking sound and the liquid crystal screen went black. Then the room was silent except for a low, hoarse sound Kat didn’t recognize at first.

  She looked away from the screen and saw that Deep had put his head down on the desk, his face buried in his arms. His broad shoulders were heaving. The hoarse, painful sound was coming from him.

  He’s sobbing, she realized. My God, he’s tearing himself apart. Despite the way he’d treated her earlier, she had an overwhelming impulse to go to him, to put her arms around him and comfort him, to somehow ease the overwhelming agony she felt coming from him in waves.

  But she couldn’t touch him—she could only watch helplessly as his misery went on and on. At last the sobbing quieted and Deep raised his head. His face was calm but his eyes were red. “I’m sorry, Miranda,” he said in a low voice. “So damn sorry.” He sighed. “I cannot take back what happened to you. But I can keep it from happening to another. I can stop it before it’s too late—before I ruin her life the way I ruined yours. I love her too much, I can’t let that happen—I won’t let it happen.”

  He’s talking about me, Kat realized. He does care! He thinks he’ll hurt me if he stays with me, if he and Lock bond with me completely. That’s why he’s being such an asshole—he’s trying to drive me away. But now that I know—

  * * * * *

  “My lady? My lady Kat, I know it’s early but we agreed that an early start was best.” A gentle hand shook her shoulder.

  Kat burrowed deeper into her pillow. No, can’t wake up yet. Have to remember. Have to know…it’s so important. It’s so—

  “My lady?” The hand shook her again and the last vestiges of the dream wisped away.

  Kat sat up, rubbi