Anita was following things upstairs with her sensor power, ready at a moment's notice to drain whatever was a serious threat to Imp – or, if necessary, deploying her other talents. Most of all though, she was waiting to feel Heartbreaker disappear. She wanted to witness his death, in the only way she safely could.

She gathered from the sense of defeat that it was all but finished when all thoughts of the present were driven out of her head with a single scarlet urge: kill everyone here.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was off the bed, running, mind moving fast. Everyone except her was upstairs in Heartbreaker's rooms. Sam and Octave had already evacuated the remaining children, and that meant the kitchen was unoccupied. She found a good-sized knife, as long as her hand, and then took the stairs two at a time with unprecedented energy.

Imp would still be in dad's room, though he was dead now; she would be trapped. It had been Anita's last job to manage the wives, and she was still going to do that, albeit in a different way. After that, though, she had to kill Imp. That was going to be trickier, without her sensor. But there were better ways, subtler ways, to kill a stranger.

She reached the top floor and stumbled in surprise. All seven wives were there. All eyes turned to her. None of them moved. Anita stopped, gripping her knife, heart thumping. She remembered this feeling: certainty, need. They had to be dead. She had to hurt them. It was Clara; it was worse than Clara. There were so many of them.

Three of them were holding their breath, faces turning an ugly pink. That was something she should've expected; Flor had been through all the wives, after all. One of them was mumbling something to herself. One was singing; Anita didn't know the tune, didn't know French, but the woman's voice was hoarse with the force of her volume. But Marianna was closest, and loudest, and tears were streaming from her eyes, and she was screaming.

This was why she hated Flor. She reached out and stabbed Marianna in the chest: bone. Again: bone. Then, flesh that parted like water. Marianna staggered but didn't stop screaming her single sustained note. Anita stabbed again and again, feeling how the action relieved her, quietened the murderous urge, until eventually Marianna collapsed, still trying to scream. Anita stood, panting, until she bled out. Around her, the other women collapsed as each of them ran out of air. That was her opening; she urged herself to move, but she couldn't seem to catch her breath.

What's your name? I'm Clara. Do you want to play?

Marianna had blue eyes in pale skin and long blond hair and plump lips and she wasn't Clara, but Anita was the same person as she'd been that day—

Can't you talk? There's a boy in my class who's deaf. What school do you go to?

She threw up, coughing the bile out of her, but she could feel the bloodlust in her own signals and she couldn't touch it, couldn't stop herself.

Mom was angry until you came. I should be angry too. Why can't I be angry?

She grabbed at her other feelings, the grief, the fear, the guilt that wasn't guilt that should have been guilt, and forced them all into her power, pushed them away. She calmed. She was going to kill the five remaining girls, and then Imp, and then herself. That was all she had to do.

One of the wives stirred. She had missed her opening. Groggily, the woman pushed herself up on a hand, raised her head and saw Anita. She screamed and her face twisted in rage and she launched herself up, crossing the distance before she could react and lashing at the girl's face with her nails. Anita brought up the knife too fast, missed torso and stabbed the woman in the underside of her jaw. The woman shrieked, before she was grabbed by someone else, who locked an elbow around her throat and pushed her against the banisters. Anita took a split-second to look around, and then ran for the next target.

She ignored the two locked in a grappling contest, tearing at each other with their long nails, blood matting their hair and running down their faces. She went straight to Louise, who was beating Sarah doggedly into a pulp. Blood was splattering with every hit, as Sarah flailed, long nails tearing at Louise's skin to no avail, as she pulled back her bruised fist and slammed it again into her stomach. Anita watched in morbid fascination as Sarah spat blood into Louse's eyes. It was the noise that was the worst bit, the shrieking, screams of pain and unrestrained snarls of fury.

Gritting her teeth, she stabbed Louise. The woman reared back, turning towards her and lashing out. Anita ducked and kicked her in the knee, sending her off-balance, then straightening again to stab her in the neck. Even as she went down in a spray of blood, she attempted to throw herself at Anita, but she easily dodged, then crouched to finish off Sarah too. She threw out her power quickly. Four left.

Three. Someone had emerged victorious between the grappling pair: she was panting, shaking, and holding her arm around Marianna's neck to make sure she was dead. Anita crept up behind her and cut her neck open as well. Her sensor told her the job was done before she hit the ground.

Two. She turned again, seeing the two women were starting to flag. The blonde was standing over the brunette, who had fallen to her knees. Anita stabbed the blonde in the back, and as she reeled, stepped over to plunge the knife into her. The remaining wife – Lucy. She knew this one. Barely older than Imp.

Lucy did look like Clara.

That's funny. It looks like mom's head fell off.

She would have hesitated, if not for Heartbreaker's invective. She ripped the knife from the collapsing woman and lunged. Lucy's fists came up to meet her as she screamed, not caring to dodge the blade in favour of pummelling into Anita's chest and stomach, sending both of them falling backwards into the bleeding blonde on the floor, who immediately grabbed Anita's hair and started pulling her head back. Anita kept stabbing as Lucy's blows grew weaker, even as her chest ached and every breath sent a blaze of pain over her torso, and eventually she was rewarded as the girl fell limply over her, only faintly attempting to slap at her arm.

Teeth sank into her neck from behind and Anita realised the woman she was lying over had twisted around enough to grab and bite her. She stabbed blindly behind her, the arms loosened, and Anita rolled off her, breathing hard. She put Lucy out of her misery with a quick cut. At the same time, she pulled out the pain. It would make her feel better, later, to have given them that mercy.

I wonder why this doesn't hurt.

No, she couldn't focus on that, she couldn't afford to, Clara was dead and her last words weren't relevant now, they weren't. She sucked up everything but the urge again, held it inside her, opened the door to the bedroom. "Imp?" she called, injecting panic into her tone. "Imp, where are you? We have to go, now!"

Imp materialised mid-step, hurrying towards her. As soon as she appeared, Anita's power told her the location and released the blast.