It was eight days into the erectile dysfunction that Heartbreaker realised his household was shrinking.
Two of his girls had gone out to do the grocery run, and hadn't come back. One other had been, as far as anyone knew, in the garage – until she wasn't. When he'd sent Samuel out to investigate, he'd vanished too.
He tasked a couple of girls with finding out what had happened without leaving, and they'd come back only with rumours that the Guild had taken an unconfirmed number of his victims into custody. No word on the boy.
Once he started paying attention, he realised he'd already lost four of his unpowered children. They were simply gone. It had to be sabotage, someone after him. He sent a girl into town – one he didn't care about, she'd gotten uglier with age – with a gun and instructions to start shooting.
Nothing came of that. Again, she didn't return.
Taunts about erectile dysfunction were still appearing, written on all surfaces apparently at random. Now, taunts about his dwindling household also began to appear.
Octave vanished next. Someone had seen him go, this time, one of his youngest. He couldn't remember her name. Apparently, the boy had just opened the front door and walked off the property. He had interrogated Flor, who could've done such a thing on whim, but it had yielded no answers. Every time he asked a question, she seemed to know, but then got confused.
The front door was supposed to be locked. He walked to the end of the drive to see for himself the open gates, verify there had been no struggle, no foul play.
IMPOTENT.
The word was emblazoned on the gravel in spray paint. He kicked it in anger and strode back to the house like a storm, sending his girls out to summon his cape children to the dining room.
It was time to get serious.
Anita knew why Imp hadn't taken her away, like she had Samuel and Octave. She was still necessary to the plan, in keeping everyone safe. She hated it, but it was Imp's plan, and it was going well so far, and...honestly, none of that mattered to her. Simply to be needed was a wonderful feeling.
That didn't stop her trembling when she was summoned to the dining room and sat before her father, who brimmed with suppressed fury.
He glanced over them, dark eyes moving with a cold disinterest that had once bothered Anita, but now was reassuring. She wasn't in trouble. Yet.
"Remind me who you are," he said after a moment.
The children gave their names in turn, and at his expectant look, summaries of their powers. Flor was kicking her chair, staring at the ground, and Juliette spoke for her. Anita concentrated on her fear as she held up her tablet, so as to not give anything else away. She winced as he read, but forced herself to embrace the feeling, the shame and anxiety. Heartbreaker wouldn't find her relationships unless he went looking, and even then, Imp would have to be suppressing her power... But she couldn't go through another Clara incident. She hated being able to sense her own fake emotions, and being unable to get them out. Knowing she was living a lie, that she should be grieving, angry, guilty... It was better to be scared. At least the feeling was hers.
Heartbreaker was talking. She forced herself to pay attention.
"Fall in line. None of your bickering and childish shit, not this time. This is a job. I want the troublemaker found and brought to me before anyone else disappears."
There was only one person that could be, but she didn't focus on that thought. She stayed attuned to her siblings' moods, absorbing them minutely from every direction. It was a trick she had learned from Guillaume to keep Heartbreaker from seeing too deeply into her. It worked, as long as she was surrounded by people, as she was then.
She finally knew which one of the two eldest sons had died, at least.
"Nicholas, take charge," were Heartbreaker's only other words. Then, abrupt as always, he turned and departed from the room. To Anita's shock, the word FLACCID had been scrawled on his shirt, clearly visible, in marker pen. He turned as he noticed their reactions, and one of his accompanying girls tugged his arm and whispered in his ear. His mood darkened, but Anita sapped it away slowly. He raised a hand, dropped it, frowned, and left the room.
Martina had both hands over her mouth, trying not to laugh. Flor didn't seem to have gotten the joke.
Nicholas was self-styled as 'above that sort of thing'. Instead he stretched, sighed, and flicked his blond curls back from his face. "Order in the court, dicks," he said. When they looked at him, he sneered at Camille. "We don't need you for this. Go sit on the roof or something."
Unspeaking, Camille rose and left the room. The only child who had inherited Aviator's powers instead of Heartbreaker's, they had triggered a year after she'd been taken, and would have fled the family there and then, if not for Nicholas bludgeoning them with terror the second he crossed they threshold to outside. Since then Camille had been little more than an anxious wreck, conditioned over the months with severe agoraphobia because of the literal flight risk. Anita took a little of their quiet despair as they went, for her own sake. They had been close to suicide for a couple of months, but she wouldn't let that happen. Dad would be intolerable if another child disappeared. He'd already banned school, day trips and keeping people for their own use. She knew he'd find something else to ban if he was given reason.
"Anita, Juliette," Nicholas said, returning her attention to the room. "You're the only ones of us left who can properly sense people, while Martina's busy. Patrol the house."
She nodded, eyes downcast, hiding her satisfaction. She couldn't sense Imp anyway.
Juliette didn't respond at all, but got down from the table and left the room.
"Martina, you do whatever with the ones upstairs. Don't fucking wander off. Flor," he sneered slightly at the name, "guard Martina's room, because if she gets fucked with we're all doomed. You got that?"
Flor grinned at him, unassailable in her own world, uncaring for his obvious dislike. She climbed up and over the table to latch onto Martina, who staggered under the weight but kept moving as they all went their separate ways.
Nicholas, for his part, was taking a position by the door. If anyone wanted to get out, they'd have to get past him, or jump out a window.
The latter was, of course, the plan.