She grabbed her head. The pounding wouldn’t stop. It was so loud it made her want to vomit. And she did.

“Hello, Michelle.”

She looked up. In front of her was Earth Witch. But it wasn’t Ana. It was some shape-changer who was wearing an Ana meat-suit.

Michelle frowned and narrowed her eyes. “You’re not Ana,” she said. Bubbles were already forming in her hands. She let them fly. Or she would have if the earth hadn’t opened up and swallowed her whole.

The clinic smelled like antiseptic. As soon as the odor hit her nose Mollie realized it had been hours since she’d checked with the hospital in Idaho. Were Jim and Troy out of surgery yet? Were Mick and Brent recovering? Had they found the rest of Dad’s ear? They probably thought she’d abandoned them again and that she didn’t even care. They all thought so little of her.

Ffodor had been different.

Billy Ray flashed his SCARE badge as they passed the nurses’ station outside the isolation ward.

Mollie said, “You really get off on that, don’t you? Seriously, it’s like a sexual compulsion or something.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he took her by the elbow and directed her down one corridor and around a corner. Mollie’s step faltered a bit when she saw the no-neck crew flanking the door to Baba Yaga’s room. She didn’t recognize their faces or tattoos, but she certainly recognized the type. Typical. Even here, halfway around the world, Baba Yaga managed to scrounge up a troop of fine upstanding citizens to attend her every kneecap-shattering whim. The goons let them pass with a nod after glancing at Ray’s badge. (“Wank, wank, wank,” Mollie whispered.)

Baba Yaga lay unmoving, as expressive as an ice sculpture in her hospital bed. And—holy shit!—one of her arms ended at the elbow. Somebody had done a real number on the hag. Good. But there was color in her cheeks and the machines connected to her emitted a steady series of beeps. Mollie felt conflicted about that. She wanted the old woman to die, though not before Mollie had a chance to apply her leverage.

Baba Yaga wasn’t alone, Mollie realized. She noticed the man sitting next to the hospital bed and flinched.

“Shit,” she said.

Franny looked up from his phone. “Surprised to see me?”

She’d last seen him several days ago, when he was embroiled in a firefight in the Talas casino. She’d taken advantage of the distraction to pick the lock on his cuffs and open a doorway to Paris.

Mollie tried to toss a bored shrug, but it came off a little shaky. So did her raspy voice. “Nah. I figured you’d be fine once you didn’t have to drag me everywhere.”

“Oh, well, when you put it that way, thanks so much for that. You’re just a forward-thinking humanitarian.”