Chapter 6 No.6

Barron grabbed a clean towel from the cart and threw it to her.

Kaela caught it one-handed. She didn't waste time asking questions about his miraculous recovery. They were co-conspirators now.

She knelt at the foot of the bed. She used the silver knife to make a small, precise incision on the sole of Alistair's foot, right at the kidney point.

A dark, viscous blood oozed out. It wasn't black, but a deep, unhealthy crimson that carried a faint, acrid chemical smell.

"Hold his leg," Kaela ordered.

Barron left the wheelchair. He walked-steady, powerful strides-to the bed and clamped his hands around his grandfather's calf.

Kaela reached into her canvas bag and pulled out a small glass jar. Inside, two translucent, gelatinous creatures swam in water.

Leeches.

Barron raised an eyebrow. "This is your plan? Medieval witchcraft?"

"It works," Kaela said, using tweezers to place a leech on the incision. "Unlike your Dr. Sterling, who treats the symptoms, these eat the poison."

The leech latched on. Its body began to swell, though its color remained largely unchanged.

"Why the act?" Kaela asked, her eyes focused on the wound. "You could run this empire in your sleep."

"To see the rats," Barron said, watching the color slowly return to his grandfather's face. "Someone in this house is dosing him. And me."

"Sterling?"

"She's a pawn. I need the king."

The monitor beeped faster. Stronger. Alistair took a deep, rattling breath. The dark lines on his neck began to fade.

"Toxin load is down 80%," Kaela said. She plucked the gorged leech off and dropped it back into the jar. "He needs herbal chelation to get the rest."

BANG. BANG. BANG.

"Open up! Police!"

Sterling's voice came through the wood. "She's murdering him! Break it down!"

Kaela wiped her hands on the towel. She looked at Barron. "Showtime."

Barron nodded. In a split second, the powerful CEO vanished. He slumped back into the wheelchair, head lolling to the side, eyes rolling back.

Kaela unlocked the door.

Three police officers burst in, guns drawn, with Sterling right behind them.

"Hands in the air!"

Sterling pointed at the blood on the floor. "See! She cut him! She killed him!"

An officer grabbed Kaela, spinning her around. He slapped cuffs on one wrist.

"You're under arrest for..."

"Sterling..."

The voice was weak, raspy, but undeniable.

The officer froze. Sterling froze.

On the bed, Alistair Kaufman opened his eyes. He blinked, focusing on the ceiling, then turned his head slowly.

"Shut... up," Alistair croaked.

Sterling gasped. "Mr. Kaufman? But... the monitor said..."

She looked at the screen. Vitals were stable. Better than they had been in months.

"Impossible," she whispered.

Kaela twisted her wrist, slipping out of the officer's grip before he could lock the second cuff.

"Attempted murder?" Kaela asked, rubbing her wrist. "Looks like a life-saving procedure to me."

Alistair looked at Kaela. His eyes were old, tired, but sharp. He saw the blood on her hands, the jar in her bag.

"You..." he wheezed. "Who are you?"

"The new asset," Kaela said coolly. "And don't forget to pay the bill."

From the wheelchair, hidden by the bulk of his body, Barron's hand hung limp. But his thumb gave a small, subtle twitch. A thumbs up.