The Killer Queen (Noella Briony)

CHapter 93

These comics were Marcel’s pride and joy! He had to twist Major Garnett’s arm to finally snag them, and now he was hooked right in the thick of the juicy bits!

Marcel had spent a lifetime in uniform, always the picture of stone–faced seriousness, but for these comics, he was practically on his knees, clinging to his granddaughter’s arm, begging.

The moment Calvin heard that Noella was the one dishing out the prescriptions, he zipped his lip, grabbed the meds his granddaughter handed him, and was out like a light all afternoon.

Now, he just swung by to scribble a signature on the prescriptions that Noella whipped up, just going through the motions.

Officially, Calvin was still the head honcho doc, but let’s be real, the power to spring Marcel from the hospital lay in the hands of his darling granddaughter!

“Noella, can’t you leave just one for Grandpa? I’m at the good part, about to hit the motherlode of the plot!”

Seeing Marcel get the same treatment, Sexton was having a field day, grinning from ear to ear. “What’s so great about those ratty comics anyway? You’ve been through a stack of them and still no clue who’s kiddo that is.”

Sexton had flipped through some of Marcel’s comics himself.

“But the next issue is gonna spill the beans, right? Just leave me one!”

Noella picked up a comic, thumbing through it nonchalantly.

“Why’s it in Gerastor?”

Marcel chuckled. “The comic’s called Tandy, a Gerastor artist. I learned Gerastor just for this! Memorizing words at my age, talk about a slog!”

His nightstand was still piled high with dictionaries!

Tandy?

Never heard of this comic artist.

Noella flipped through the comic in hand. It was a stunner, bold colors, a style one wouldn’t see much from local artists.

With a slight frown, Noella studied the last panel. It showed a heart–shaped orphanage next to a hospital with four bold letters on top.

Tandy Hospital!

Why on earth was Marcel’s comic tied up with Tandy Hospital?

Without a peep, Noella pocketed the comic, facing Marcel’s puppy–dog eyes. “Grandpa, I’ll hold onto these for now. You’ll get them back once you’re out.”

11.50

Marcel’s face fell. He flopped back onto the bed, hamming up every ache in his body.

“Ouch! I feel awful… is this the end for me? Noella, if I kick the bucket, promise you’ll spill the beans on the rest of the comic.”

Noella was at a loss for words. Where was that dignified, commanding Grandpa? Turned hustler over a few comics?

If word got out, jaws would hit the floor.

Resigned, Noella handed back one issue. “If I find out you’ve been up all night reading. I’m taking this one too.”

“Deal!” Marcel sprung to life, clutching the comic from Noella’s hand, darting back to his room. fearing the last issue might get swiped.

Halfway out the door, he remembered something else, rushed back, and snapped a bunch of selfies with his precious granddaughter.

“Heh, let’s see that old coot Merrick show off now. Who’s got no photo now?”

After a victory lap on his socials, Marcel trotted off, comic in hand.

Noella watched his retreat, a mix of exasperation and amusement. Guess the old man still had some pep in his step. Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Sexton snorted at Marcel’s antics. “Noella, your grandpa’s got a screw loose. After you tie the knot with Palmer, you’ll bunk with me, got it? In case his bad habits spoil my great–grandkid.”

Great–grandkid…

Noella and Palmer hadn’t even sealed the deal, and Sexton was already counting chickens. Seeing the old man’s bubble of bliss, Noella couldn’t bring herself to burst it.

“Grandpa Sexton, I’ll drop by tomorrow.”

“Don’t wear yourself out, kiddo.” Sexton clasped Noella’s hand, snuck a small box from under the bed, and slipped it into her hand while Palmer was distracted.

When Palmer looked over, Sexton was back to whispering sweet nothings, playing it cool.

“Noella, you’re busting your butt for my meds, and I’ve lived a good long life. A pill more or less won’t kill me. Don’t overdo it, promise me.”

He patted Noella’s hand, nudged the little box into her sleeve, and winked mischievously.

“I’m good, Grandpa Sexton. You rest up. I’m heading out.”

“Hey, Palmer! Walk Noella out. And you, scram! You’re cramping my style. Scat!” Sexton had zero patience for his own grandson, shooing him out with a mutter. “Useless kid, standing around like furniture. Stick with Noella, foot the bill when she shops, be her chauffeur, and wait on her hand and foot. Got no clue how to charm a lady. Your dad ain’t no fool. How’d he end up with you…”

11:50

Sexton sent Palmer packing with a dressing down.

Noella couldn’t help but chuckle at Palmer’s look of utter resignation. Her laughter seemed to lift his spirits in an instant.

Maybe she felt the same way about what Grandpa said?

Outside the hospital, Noella handed Palmer a comic.

The whole thing was in Gerastor, but as the bigwig of the Pollack Group, Palmer was a polyglot. He breezed through it.

“Tandy Hospital? You suspect this comic’s tied to Tandy Hospital?”

“Sort of. I’m not sure, but with Tandy Hospital and Heartfelt Orphanage popping up, this artist’s no simpleton.”

Palmer nodded. “I’ll dig into it. Leave it to me.”

“Let’s divvy up the work. The Obelisk Organization has got a playground in Gerastor territory, but the Abyssal Organization doesn’t.”

She remembered that last year, Obelisk Organization muscled its way into calling the shots in several missions within Gerastor, and that was when Abyssal Organization bowed out of the

game.

Palmer chuckled under his breath, his voice deep and magnetic, oozing with sex appeal.

“If you hadn’t brought it up, I would’ve almost forgotten how your crew kicked m