And Ana, well, Ana needed to die.

The red mist floated in Michelle’s vision. The pounding in her head was back, and it grew worse. The hissing voices she couldn’t understand were louder. She shook with bloodlust and rage.

She let a bubble fly. But before it hit Ana, a wall of earth rose from the ground, blocking its trajectory. So Michelle blasted the wall of dirt with a barrage of bubbles. It broke apart, but reassembled a moment later, larger, thicker, and taller. Then the earth flipped back—and like a fly swatter, smashed into Michelle and sent her flying.

She hit the building behind her and blasted out the other side. The pain knocked her out.

Introductions had been exchanged in the car, and now Franny and Baden were making their way through a phalanx of cop cars that surrounded the old building that housed the Jokertown Clinic. Spotlights glared off the windows of the hospital. A helicopter circled overhead. SWAT team members looking insectile in their helmets, goggles, and vests were positioned on rooftops and leveled high-powered rifles at the doors of the clinic.

An ambulance driver was remonstrating with Maseryk. “I gotta drop off this patient.”

Maseryk was firm. “Take them to Bellevue.”

“He’s a joker.”

“And the people inside the clinic have been taken hostage. You want to join them?”

“Uh … Oh. No.”

“That’s what I thought,” Maseryk muttered to himself. He spotted Franny and Babel. He walked over, his erect bearing and the cadence of his steps forcibly reminding Franny that Maseryk was ex-military.

“I’d like to have ears on what happens in there,” he said.

Franny shook his head. “They’re going to search me. Let’s not give them a reason to shoot me, okay? I’ll report back to you.”

“If they let you out.”

“I’m sure Baba Yaga will have another chore for her errand boy.” Babel gave him a sharp glance and he realized he’d probably revealed more than he wanted.

“What about her?” Maseryk jerked a thumb at Babel.

“I’m certain the lady didn’t insist on seeing me unless she wanted me to do something. She’ll have to let me leave if she wants that to happen,” the diplomat replied.

Maseryk nodded and stepped aside, but he didn’t look pleased. He spoke quickly into his radio, and waved Franny and Babel toward the front doors of the clinic.

Barbara glanced at the scowling Officer Black—Franny. His face was stern and angry as he leaned against the wall of the hospital room.

The room reeked, and it wasn’t just the usual hospital miasma. Much of it seemed to emanate from the foul-mouthed old women in the bed in the center of the heavily guarded room. Rheumy eyes glared at Barbara from the wrinkled face. Barbara stopped short of what she hoped was the woman’s spitting distance.