Every effort to kill her made her smarter, and she made herself stronger with each transformation. Size should’ve been the goal from before old Yaya and old Magenta had unified their thoughts. Had she been larger on Bruen Street, that steel monstrosity wouldn’t have cut them apart. But back then, she’d lacked the brains to control a body too big to kill. Her new form would only work with a hivemind of thought in one unstoppable frame.

And the inspiration from the skyscraper. The girl behind the glass—had she

liked fantasy books? Stories about dragons? Was that why?

A massive spine arched from Magenta’s back. Ribs fused to sternum, skull to vertebrae, and dozens of limbs built half their number in new supportive structures. Layers of fat formed down the sides of a long torso and longer neck.

A cleft like old Yaya’s ran down her front, filled with snatching tentacles and angry teeth. Her skin glowed magenta, real as her name.

The body would never be completely stable, but she was vicious where it counted. An anatomical mess, a beauty of blood and teeth and tentacles. She understood the problem now. She was more than her old minds had dared let herself become. Her old minds might have been scared of herself.

But she wasn’t scared now. Not in front of these people.

Fire snapped across brick and ate the front of an apartment building just past Magenta’s head. Oil spilled down asphalt and immediately roared alight.

She watched an inferno spring to life across an intersection, where cars popped like corn kernels.

The cops, again. They would burn down their city to stop her. Thick dark smoke billowed across her face and blinded her. No problem. She had got on fine without eyes before. Doc had said all creatures used to get on without eyes.

When Magenta brought these cops into the fold, they would go without eyes once more, and the world would keep turning.

She drove tentacles into the burning building. No sense leaving these people to agony, and even less sense letting their cells go to waste. Magenta always needed more. Her withdrawing tentacles pulled the building down, wiping away the fires in a cloud of debris.

“More,” she said. “Teach me more.”

Beyond the smoke, the gray world took on a thick yellow haze. She stuck her tongue into it, and the haze bit back, almost playfully. She knew this—no, the girl behind the glass knew this. Some chemical had swirled around her years ago, burning her throat and turning her lungs to raisins.

Years ago. Just as life on Earth had once got on without eyes, it had got on without lungs. And if humans could survive these chemicals, so could Magenta.

Were the cops even trying? They were going to let her have the city at this rate. Yes, that was it. They were fleeing Newark and all their responsibilities.

Doc would be ashamed to hear. Magenta wouldn’t tell her.