The Killer Queen by 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.

It was a stunner, bold

last panel. It showed a heart–shaped orphanage

Tandy Hospital!

comic tied up with

peep, Noella pocketed the comic, facing Marcel’s puppy–dog eyes. “Grandpa, I’ll hold onto these

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Chapter 93

the bed, hamming up every ache in his

this the end for me? Noella, if I kick the bucket, promise you’ll spill the

words. Where was that dignified, commanding

jaws would hit the

you’ve been up all night reading. I’m

the comic from Noella’s hand, darting back to his room. fearing the last

remembered something else, rushed back, and snapped a bunch of selfies with his

show off now.

victory lap on his socials, Marcel trotted off, comic

watched his retreat, a mix of exasperation and amusement. Guess the old man still had some pep

a screw loose. After you tie the knot with Palmer, you’ll bunk with me, got it? In case

Great–grandkid…

sealed the deal, and Sexton was already counting chickens. Seeing the old

I’ll drop by

snuck a small box from under the bed, and slipped it into

was back to

lived a good long life. A pill more or

little box into her sleeve, and