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It was a tale of battle, murder, and sudden death on the New York waterfront. He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness. The freezing water lapped around her ankles as she ran along its edge, marveling at the thousands of tiny white spiral shells the tide had brought in. It has all been a mistake. The blood will rest on your head. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. " At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six.
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