Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Claire sulked, unhappy Shepherd had woken her. A wise man, he gave her a cappuccino and waited for her new morning ritual, his little one peeking, trying to hide her interest in discovering what picture lay in the foam that day before she sipped and the art was spoiled.

In her cup bloomed an intricate poppy. Claire begrudgingly loved it. “Does the person who makes these have any idea who they’re for?”

Shepherd answered with a question. “You ask because of the flower shape?”

“You have to admit, it’s a little ridiculous they would give you a drink with flowers in it.”

“It is a courtship ritual of Dome culture for the male to offer flowers to the female. I ordered it to be prepared this way.”

Internally cringing, Claire sipped the drink and hated that she blushed at his attempted romantic gesture, that he was going to mistake her embarrassment for coyness, that he was already looking at her with an arrogant glow in his eyes.

There was more. “Our agreement has been fulfilled.”

Claire set the cup and saucer on the bedside table, bracing herself. “And the proof?”

Shepherd brought forth his COMscreen. “May only upset you, so I am asking you to trust me and not look at the photographs.”

There was no chance in hell Claire would trust such a man. “It could not be any worse than other things I have seen in this city.”

She took the COMscreen, snatching it from his hands. The first image had been taken from a distance, all three bodies shown dangling, but not near enough to be graphic. The second was from the same vantage, Shepherd’s Followers taking them down. Claire was tempted to stop there, to accept that as good enough, but to do so would be to show weakness in the face of her adversary. Her finger slid across the screen. Bodies side by side in an open grave, rotted faces on display, only pits remaining where eyes had once been. Each corpse was still gagged, shrunken lips exposing teeth, hanging ropes embedded in their necks.

Claire could not look away.

Shepherd gently pried the COMscreen from her hands. “Are you satisfied?”

What she was was incredibly ill. Nodding, her mouth grew sour, Claire sank deeper into her bed in hopes he’d leave so she could run to the bathroom and puke.

Shepherd knew her every tick, knew she was unwell. Claire could either walk to the bathroom and be sick with dignity, or he was going to get involved, his scowl said as much.

Slipping out of bed, she moved past him, closing the door for privacy, and threw up everything she’d just swallowed, pretty certain it would be some time before she enjoyed a cappuccino again.