For some reason, Babel seemed to dislike Olena as much as Olena was uncowed by her. She grimaced, but eventually said, “As you say, I agree.”

When they brought her in, Marcus barely recognized Mollie. Last time he’d seen her, in the casino, she’d been a cocksure countrified bitch who had looked the jokers she’d transported straight in the eyes. She flipped off any who returned her gaze too long. Not anymore. Now she was as scratched and bruised as Joey had been. She looked drenched in fatigue, barely able to walk with the aid of two nurses. Despite that, her eyes bounced around the room with a crazed energy. Every time they touched on something she flinched. She looked ready to jump out of her skin, ravaged and frightened, remorseful and on the verge of both rage and utter collapse.

Anyone could see that. Marcus saw more, though. He recognized the horror that wafted off her. It hit him in the gut, made his skin crawl, shot his long tail through with adrenaline, with the urgent desire to flee. His mind flared full of horrible thoughts, the sort of things that had clawed at him in Talas, brutal, senselessly violent, grotesque. He wanted to consume each thought, but he also felt like vomiting. All of this, brought on just by the sight of her.

Fortunately, she didn’t have the same effect on Nurassyl. Full of compassion, the boy said, “She is not well. Come. Bring her to me.” He peeled his tentacled hands away from his chest and beckoned to her.

“What the fuck is that?” Mollie snapped. “What the fuck are you doing?” With a sudden burst of energy, she tried to squirm away from the nurses. A big man closed on her from behind, trying to calm her even as he gripped her in the vise of his burly arms. This was not starting well.

“Don’t hurt her,” Nurassyl said. He looked at Babel. “I will be her friend. Let me talk to her. Just me. Can you do that?”

Babel pursed her lips. That was all the answer she gave, until the auditory ambience of the room changed entirely. Marcus hadn’t been able to understand half the people around them before, but now he couldn’t understand anybody. Every voice speaking became a garbled jumble that didn’t even resemble language anymore.

“What the fuck?” Marcus turned to Olena. She looked back at him, opened her mouth, and let out a barrage of nonsense. It must have been Babel using her power. He tried to explain this to her, but Olena grimaced and put her hand over his mouth, shutting him up. Together, they turned and—like everyone else—watched Nurassyl and Mollie. They, apparently, were the only ones who could still communicate.