She had one thing. One single thing. She just needed the timing—a split second between blows—so hard to focus when every missed loop meant another long gash across her body—this had to work now, had to, she DID NOT COME ALL THIS WAY FOR NOTHING.

As the next slice rippled down her stomach—centimeters from her gem—Sloan tightened her energies and unleashed an instantaneous flash of light. Like the flash of a camera. The next instant, as the invisible cutting force of Clair's violin left her body, Sloan rolled beneath the adjacent bed, her body already fetal enough, needing only the slightest sideways momentum to propel her into the narrow crawlspace beneath.

Where she had been curled moments before remained a translucent image of herself. Clair's notes kept playing, trenchant slashes across her violin strings, but no more wounds opened across Sloan's body as she crawled beneath the bed. In musical ecstasy, in the frenzy Clair only allowed herself to enter when playing her most prized possession, her normally sharp observational skills would not pick up the switch immediately.

Creativity, Sloan realized as she pulled herself toward the other end of the bed, was simply making up a bunch of random useless tools and waiting for the perfect time to use them.

She swung from under the bed, flipped to her feet, materialized her gun, and fired. No pause, no final words to her erstwhile friend, no waiting a moment for Clair to see the ruse so Sloan could enjoy a beautiful, succulent moment of triumph. Nothing but pure and utter annihilation. Clair wore her school uniform instead of her Magical Girl attire, so Sloan couldn't say for sure the location of her Soul Gem, but it hardly mattered. Rake a machine gun over her worthless corpse long enough and it'll sure to shatter.

(Chapter 26)