Juliet could hear the alarms again. Although familiar, the dream was anything but comforting.  It was always jarring: a recurring  nightmare.

She was small, just seven, and she could see their faces. Her brothers and sisters, all strikingly dissimilar in appearance, but sharing the same young, cherubic, guileless eyes and open expressions. Juliet liked India’s shoulder length blond hair much more than her short dark pixie cut. Her own hair barely covered her surgical scar.

She wa. . .