Page 9 of Booked for Kidnapping

“Gangrene sucks, and I don’t want it.”

Bradley frowned. “Do you have a sterile knife?”

“No, but I’m sure we could sterilize one given a pot of water and ten minutes. Even a needle will do the trick. I just have to pierce the skin enough to get to the infection so I can use a minor amount of my blood to purge it. Then we can dump on all those helpful chemicals good at killing infections. And when my doctor asks why I improved so much, we will look innocent and claim some miracle happened at the memorial service.” I heaved a sigh and resumed stroking Ajani with the brush. “It’s not like the ten minutes is going to make any difference for my lungs. I’ll just be pissy once I put the bracelet back on because breathing without the damned thing on is easier.”

“Where do you keep the needles or knives?”

I pointed in the direction of my bathroom. “Medicine cabinet. There’s also rubbing alcohol and similar things with them. The first aid kit might have a sterile scalpel in it, but I can’t remember. I also don’t remember if I threw out the old scalpels, though I probably did. The ones that come in those kits aren’t the greatest, although they’ll do in a pinch.”

Bradley bounced to his feet and headed for my bathroom, returning a few minutes later with my entire first aid kit and every antiseptic I owned. “I spent the first minute or two reading labels trying to figure out which products would be the best, but then I remembered you are much better at this than I am, so I gathered everything.”

“Not a bad plan,” I conceded, and I grabbed the actual kit, dug through it until I located my scalpels, and discovered two were still in their original, sterilized packaging. “This simplifies things. I will warn you now, my foot is bad, it’s probably going to smell absolutely terrible when I pull this boot off, and I won’t be surprised if there are abscesses I will need to lance to remove the infection. And if the abscesses are really bad, there might be a spray radius, so get some paper towels. I’d rather not have to clean this shit out of my carpet.”

“That sounds disgusting.”

“That’s because it is disgusting.”

“Have I really let you run around with a foot that badly infected?”

“You know the doctor knows. She wanted to try antibiotics first.” The antibiotics weren’t working well, but all of my doctors preferred giving the medications a real chance to work before taking drastic measures. “Don’t tell anyone this, but I resent I couldn’t have just solved this problem a week ago. When you put the damned cuff back on me, don’t lock it this time. I get why you locked it the first time, and you’re not wrong for having locked it the first time, as I do want functional lungs. However, I also want a functional foot. To answer your question, yes, I was running around with a badly infected foot.”

“I’ll agree to forgo locking it if you agree to only turn it off if it’s truly and absolutely necessary.”

As Bradley was one of two people outside of a hospital who could unlock or lock the damned thing, I found his terms to be agreeable. I nodded. “And if I do need my magic, I have access to it. That oversight is annoying, honestly.”

“That had crossed my mind,” he admitted. “I’ll pretend it’s still locked, just in case someone we don’t want knowing that has access to your medical file. It won’t stop the records from listing the names of those who can lock and unlock the bracelet, but if people believe it’s locked, you’re better off. I think I can even change the mode on them so you can turn it on and off without having to remove it.”

“That would be convenient.” The bracelet, which I viewed as worse than any handcuff, had no visual cues it was active or deactivated, which worked in my favor. That Bradley worried someone had access to my medical file worried me, too.

While Bradley had turned fretting into an art, he tried to fret over the important details.

After taking a few minutes to prepare everything in the first aid kit for some self-inflicted torture in the name of future relief, I asked, “Why do you think someone has access to my medical file?”

“I’ve gotten more than a few calls implying people have been gossiping about your health, your general lack of good health, and questions about why you are still using a wheelchair. Obviously, a family like mine should be able to magically repair your foot.” Bradley wrinkled his nose. “If I could, I would. Mostly, I’ve referred people to a foot specialist with their questions. A few even had the decency to apologize later for implying I wasn’t taking proper care of my fiancée.”

Why had I agreed to become engaged to Bradley? Oh, right. I wanted to avoid being murdered on some battlefield, and I also wanted to keep Bradley from being sucked into the same system. Marriage seemed a far better fate than guaranteed recruitment into the military, where I would come to a brutal end in some fashion or another.

Bradley likely wouldn’t see the front lines if he were to be drafted under the potential future rules, but he wouldn’t enjoy life, either.

I braced for the inevitable pain and suffering I’d subject myself to taking off my boot. I hissed at the movement of the padded metal and plastic, and as I’d suspected, the bandages had a few suspiciously colored sections, which implied I oozed in places I shouldn’t have been oozing.

In good news, if I oozed, I wouldn’t need the scalpel for more than removing the bandages without inflicting additional injury to myself.

“The nice thing about being an exsanguinator is I don’t just work with blood. Bodily fluids in general are my domain, although blood is the easiest to work with. This nasty shit counts as a bodily fluid, so I can sense it and eject it at my whim.” I considered requesting something to plug my nose with, as once I removed the bandage, the stench would be enough to turn anyone’s stomach. “Why don’t you go to the bedroom and order us lunch while I solve this problem?”

“You’re going to need a bucket for that, judging from the swelling.”

“Dump out the trash can in the bathroom. That’s easy to wash.”

Bradley returned to the bathroom and brought my trash can, which he’d emptied at my request. Five minutes later, he’d managed to unlock the bracelet so I could turn it on and off at my whim rather than his, and I tested it several times to make sure it worked. Once confident I had control over the situation, I braced my foot onto the coffee table, freed one of the scalpels from its sterile packaging, and heaved a sigh. “Flee and make lunch appear. This is going to be disgusting, and I want to pretend you’re not aware I’m going to be threatening to cut this damned foot off in a profanity-laced temper tantrum.”

“Your magic isn’t good at preventing pain. You can work miracles, but you can’t control the nervous system.”

“Order yourself something extra nice for your ability to demonstrate just how smart you are,” I ordered. “Take Ajani into the bedroom while you’re at it. I don’t want to traumatize my fluffy goddess.”

After claiming my cat, Bradley headed into my bedroom and closed the door. The thin wood wouldn’t do much to prevent him from hearing me, but I’d do my best to limit my expressions of discomfort to the rare curse.

Bracing for the inevitable misery, I cut off the bandage, grimacing at the angry, red skin and the evidence the surgical wounds had seen better days. As expected, I oozed where I had no business oozing, but I’d take advantage of the situation to draw out the infection without having to inflict additional misery on myself.