Page 12

On one hand,I shouldn’t have taken Bradley hostage through using him as a bed. On the other hand, I appreciated his inability to escape, his warmth, and how he held me in place with an arm so I wouldn’t do something foolish, including roll over him and onto the floor.

A conversation, rather heated and involving some of my co-workers, my parents, and his mother, did a good job of preventing me from returning to sleep.

Despite the general crankiness of everyone else, Bradley chuckled. “Waiting two weeks for Janette to gain some weight, get a checkup, and otherwise prepare for returning to normal life isn’t that much time. If we try to throw all of that at her at once, we’ll overwhelm her. Considering how she’s doing a pretty good impression of being glue right now, we need to take care. I get you all want her home immediately, but until we have a better idea of what she can tolerate, we need to take this slowly.”

Beatrice snorted. “You just want to hoard her all to yourself.”

“While that’s true… actually, yes. I do. I absolutely do wish to hoard her all to myself.”

A laugh escaped before I could stop it. As I could only assume I was busted, I said, “What are you arguing about?”

“Who gets to keep you,” Bradley informed me. “I have decided I am the one keeping you, and that’s that.”

“Well, I’m certainly not marrying someone else. The last time I checked, the only person I was marrying is you, so that means you win that one by default.” I stretched and yawned. “But seriously. Why are you all fighting?”

“Janette!” Beatrice released her breath in a huff. “He wasn’t letting us talk to you.”

“I was asleep. It’s difficult to talk to you when I’m asleep. I’m not asleep now. What time is it?”

“Midnight,” my best enemy reported. “Nine where you’re at. Bradley told us you were exhausted, but you’ve been out for over twelve hours. We were trying to get intel on your kidnapping, but Bradley says you know nothing?”

“I know nothing beyond my kidnappers having a significant interest in my foot and that one of them is an illusionist. They don’t know me personally, as far as I can tell. They didn’t provide any of my favorite foods, not once. Not a scrap of spicy goodness, either.”

“And only people who know you fairly well are aware you’d eat peppers by the handful if left unattended.” After a moment, Beatrice heaved another sigh. “I hate that I feel we’re back to square one. We were never able to find anything on who took you or why. These people left us nothing, not even a stray hair. We just know their method, we can assume you and Senator Westonhaus were the targets, and honestly, we aren’t even sure if you were an intended target or if the kidnappers got a serious case of ethics after shooting you.”

I wiggled on Bradley enough I could shove my pajama sleeve out of the way and peek at the scar on my arm. “I don’t see how that little thing would have justified a kidnapping of that scale and expense, Beatrice. Judging from the scar, it wasn’t that bad of a gunshot wound. More of a graze than anything else.”

“It bled heavily, and you took a hard knock to the head when you fell. We thought you had gotten killed, since the hit to your head knocked you right out.”

“I don’t want to see that video. That sounds embarrassing. I mean, being dragged off after being shot and having clobbered my head is definitely embarrassing. My pride may never recover.” To match my best enemy, I heaved my most dramatic sigh. “No one can judge me about the goats.”

Peals of laughter blared from Bradley’s phone, which was on the nightstand beside the bed. I spotted no sign of Bradley’s father, but upon listening, I heard the tell-tale rumble of the jets in the bathroom. Having broken the anger and replaced it with amusement, I yawned and settled in, nestling my head on Bradley’s shoulder.

“Still tired?” Bradley asked, giving my back a rub. “Don’t be surprised if she goes back to sleep. She is snuggling into her living pillow rather mercilessly.”

“You’re comfortable and warm,” I informed him. “And I’m about ten to twenty pounds too thin right now to be anything other than cold. I don’t actually know if that’s true, but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

“Better target twenty-five pounds just to be sure. It is a sacrifice I will just have to endure through.”

“I see you have accepted your engagement with open arms,” my mother stated in an amused tone.

“He got us goats, and I heard something about a horse? I’m not sure if I actually heard something about a horse. I was tired enough I might’ve hallucinated that part.”

My mother giggled. “We bought horses this morning, yes. There’s one for you and one for your Bradley, and I’ve been talking to physical therapists, who have all said caring for and riding horses will be good for you, especially now that your foot is recovering.”

Fortunately for me, Bradley opted to drum his fingers on my back, which did a good job of distracting me, which spared me from a fate worse than death due to asking my mother if she’d lost her mind. “Dr. Mansfield looked you over two hours ago, and she brought a bone mender colleague over as well. I paid for their airfare and their hotel rooms. She spent the first twenty minutes cursing at your kidnappers. How dare they go against her plan for your foot? And then she spent the rest of the time cursing them because they had done a really good job with your foot. You have a ridiculous collection of metal bits in your foot, and the bone mender reported that you’ve had a substantial number of your bones in your foot replaced. Some are from a donor, which her friend was able to detect due to inconsistencies in the bone shape and density, and what wasn’t replaced with actual bone was done through pins and other fancy stuff. Honestly, I was more concerned about your foot than the specifics. The short of it is you were given top-notch care. There are a limited number of people capable of doing that sort of work in such a short period of time, so we have some suspects.”

“Who?” I asked.

Bradley switched from drumming to rubbing, something I enjoyed more than I expected. “Ironically, Dr. Marlene Renfold is at the top of our list. She was on your team after the crash, and she was one of the more vocal against Dr. Avers and his opinions regarding your care. She could have done the work, and she has a reputation of abhorring failure. Thanks to Avers, she feels your case was more of a failure than anything, so she has the motivation to do the work. Lauley Rivers is considered to be skilled enough to have done most of the work, or perhaps someone he taught. Essentially, the serial killer group could have done it with the right preparation and enough warning. That you were sedated most of the time would make it easier, especially since they didn’t seem concerned about your need for physical therapy. When you don’t care about patient comfort, it’s feasible to do a lot of work. Dr. Mansfield is very careful to do her work in such a way to be bearable for her patients. She doesn’t think they gave a flying shit about torturing you if it meant a successful treatment. Your frequent sedations would have made it possible to do the surgery. There are four more doctors in the United States or come to the United States often who are capable of handling the work to this skill level. Dr. Mansfield is not one of them, by the way. She’s good, but she’s stated she’s not this good, and you are her toughest case by far. She lacks the magical abilities required to fully heal your foot. But she was what you could afford, and she was good enough. And she confessed she undercharged you to make sure you could get the care you needed; you got the absolute cheapest she could charge.”

“I need to send her another card and more chocolate, apparently. Along with another paycheck.”

“I already took care of the paycheck part,” Bradley confessed. “I knew you’d want to pay more the instant you found out, so I took care of it.”

I stretched, and I wiggled my toes, delighting in how my right foot emerged from my misadventures sore but not in true pain. “We have plenty of potential motives on why someone would want Senator Westonhaus to permanently disappear. Do we have any motives on why someone would want me to not-so-permanently disappear? Also, with a somewhat intact foot? I mean, mostly intact foot. I will probably still use a cane, because it gets sore easily, but I can walk. I really do appreciate that.”

I had held hope for some limited freedom from the boot but little more than that. My reward boots would have been worn rarely, with an expectation of them causing significant pain.

“You’re a badass?” Mickey suggested.

I smiled that my self-professed fanboy didn’t seem to have lost his interest in my magic. “I thought I was pretty badass rescuing myself. Once I wasn’t being drugged stupid, I had a working foot, and I figured out there were some high-grade illusions keeping me contained. I didn’t like having to climb out a third-story window, though. That was not my definition of a good time. Honestly, I liked the part where I went to the library and emailed Bradley. It was right at the beach, and I spent the time gathering shells while waiting.”

“Before you hid in some bushes and ambushed my father,” Bradley added with laughter in his voice.

“I didn’t really ambush him. He spotted me getting up. The bushes had a bunch of rocks between them, and honestly, it hurt like hell getting up. It wasn’t a good ambush. You just hauled ass going to the beach.”

“In my defense, I was really eager to find you, and I thought the beach made a good hiding spot. I didn’t think you’d hide in some bushes.”

“I hadn’t walked too far to find that beach, and I didn’t want to be easily spotted by people I didn’t want spotting me. I am willing to hide in bushes as necessary.” I faked a sniffle. “Their library is right on the beach, Bradley.”

“I’m sorry your branch isn’t on the beach. Don’t mind Janette. She’d convinced herself she would have to find a new job. I had told her she still had her job, but I don’t think she believes me.”

“You still have your job,” my boss said. “We’re going to have a talk about notifying others when you’re working with dangerous individuals, though. As a result of your kidnapping, I have added a new rule. All librarians hunting for donations must report when they have dinner meetings with politicians. They’re dangerous, and you might need backup. Also, you did a wonderful job, even though exactly nobody likes the gentleman you pulled out of the line of fire.”

Oops. I hadn’t realized my boss had been on the call. “Hi, Mr. Tawnlen. I’m sorry I haven’t shown up for work in almost nine months.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, although we’re going to have a long talk about getting into vehicles with strange politicians. We’ve done some staff shuffling, since I had to register your true aptitude rating, and you’re going to like me almost as much as you like your fiancé in a minute.”

“Acquisitions?” I whispered.

“Acquisitions and donations, with floor time as you can. You’re also going to get to handpick our next diversity hires. That’s from the main branch. Beatrice seems to enjoy vexing us whenever possible.”

“She’s the best bitch,” I informed my boss.

Beatrice laughed. “You’re just really good at melding with the lower castes, and my boss, upon hearing you’ll be coming home in a few weeks, wants you to handle hires for the entire library system in our area. That’ll let you work with the public, and if you’re cherry-picking the hires, it’s easier for us to get them in with a higher budget. It’ll work out, and it’ll let you work more from home for a while. You’ll have to go through the potential hires, so it’ll be good practice before you go back to your branch. Before getting on this call, I’d been working on getting your employment records updated with some help from the boss man here. You’re all good, and your official return date is in a month. That’ll give you some time to go through your medical evaluations and see a therapist.”

“Just one?” I asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of my tone.

Bradley snickered, and he held me close. “Normally, it should be you saying you need a therapist and her asking that.”

With a rather wicked giggle, Beatrice replied, “You’re going to need therapy once I’m done inserting my foot in your ass for worrying me so much!”

“That’s going to hurt. Bradley, don’t let her insert her foot up my ass. I don’t think either one of us would be walking away from that one.”

“My momma always warned me about getting between two women in a fight. But I’m willing to nurse you back to health and attend to your every need after you’re done brawling.”

“I did actually teach him that,” Bradley’s mother announced. “You’ll survive, Janette.”

“I don’t know about that. Beatrice has a hard kick and a long reach.”

“I really do!” Beatrice cleared her throat. “Back on track, especially now that Janette has decided to join us. I have a list of important questions we need answers to.”

“Is why they bothered to give my foot medical care at the top of that list? If it’s not, I request it be added to the top of the list. I was aware of a nasty infection I struggled with. But they tried treating that with medications first. I guess the medications didn’t work, because I’m apparently missing a rather lengthy period of time while it was being addressed and they gave me a new foot.”

“We might be able to find out who was behind it if we can locate the bone donor. Somebody got foot bones of the right type and a match for Janette somehow. Either there’s a corpse somewhere missing parts of their right foot or there’s a recent amputee who’d donated, but Dr. Mansfield made it pretty clear there is a trail if we can find the donor. She’s freaking out because what if somebody got offed to give Janette a new foot?”

Ew. I didn’t want a fixed foot if it had cost someone their life. “I don’t like that option.”

“There is another option,” Mickey announced.

When the research-obsessed librarian with a magic fetish got started, we all ran a high risk of learning something new. “What other option?”

“You’re the donor.”

My eyes widened, and I twisted around to stare at my blanket-covered feet. “What? How?”

“Your left foot. A lot of those bones can be, with some adjustment by a skilled bone mender, used as seed material to grow a new bone. That’s how the bone mender was hiding the gunshot wounds, through the instant recreation of the victim’s skull bone. If they can close a bullet hole to the skull in a split second, using a sample of your bone to grow healthy replacement bone is absolutely possible, and if they’re regrowing the bone outside of the body and introducing it via transplant, it would be much easier on you.”

My mouth dropped open, and I continued to stare at my covered feet. “But then why the pins and rods and all that stuff in my foot?”

“I bet they were going to remove them as they were able to restore more of the bones in your feet. Or it was better for the stability of your foot. Either are options. If they hadn’t intended for you to go missing on them, they could have been preparing you for another round of surgery.” Mickey made a thoughtful sound. “I’m just glad you have a functional foot.”

With a well-timed shove, Bradley dumped me onto my side of the bed, and I yelped at the unexpected relocation. He then pounced, grabbed my feet, and inspected them both. “She does have a new scar on her left foot, Mickey.”

“She could be her own donor, then. It would have been trivial for them to remove a small section of healthy bone, heal the damage, and use the removed bone to rebuild her damaged foot, especially if the infection had compromised the integrity of the bone. And that’s healthier for her. But it also elevates the odds our serial killer really likes Janette for some reason.”

Once satisfied he’d examined both of my feet carefully, Bradley went to work massaging my left foot. “My pillow threw me off,” I complained.

“Yes. I wanted to see your feet. Mickey, at what point will foot massages be okay on her right foot?”

“Ask a real doctor. I just read a lot and have an overabundance of curiosity. If she can walk on it, she can probably handle you rubbing it gently. I recommend whispering sweet nothings. That confuses the strong, independent women and makes them somewhat pliable.”

I giggled. “Beatrice, has Mickey been taking advantage of your poor person again?”

“He’s all quiet and shy, but then suddenly, he’s there, with roses and sweet nothings, and the next thing I know, I’ve lost my bra,” she replied, and I could imagine her shrugging. “I’m still missing a bra somewhere. I think I threw it behind our couch, but honestly, I’m not sure. I’ll find it eventually. Or my mother will. Or worse, his mother. She’s rather conservative about pre-marital sex. I’ll get around to marrying him once I’ve confirmed we both enjoy the goods for an extended period of time and won’t kill each other immediately following marriage.”

“I’m getting mixed signals,” Mickey stated. “Am I supposed to be tossing bras around our living room and inviting my mother over now? And anyway, we’re living together. Surely they can’t be that dense. But if they are that dense, I suppose I can throw a few of your bras around our living room.”

“I will pay for you to do that,” my favorite enemy stated. “I’ll even say please.”

“And now that we know too much about your sex life, how about we focus on work,” I said, trying to free my foot from Bradley’s grasp with no luck. “Why would someone out to kill a bunch of unsavory politicians want to heal my foot? I keep getting in the way of their kills. Twice now. And I don’t even remember the second time. I literally didn’t even know I’d gotten shot until I read about it in a news article at the library. I completely missed it. After the goats, I remember waking up in a pile of blankets and pillows chained to a bunch of pipes with a fuzzy handcuff. They were monitoring me to a certain extent, the main room I was kept in had some obvious camera points, but they left me alone in the bathroom. Apparently, my modesty seemed to be important to them for some reason. The chain gave me full reach of everything in the room and bathroom, too. Illusions disguised the windows and may have changed the size and perception of the room, but I have no way of knowing. They used some form of illusion on the outside of the house, though only on what could be seen through the windows. I found the window I escaped out of by feel, and while I’d found a window in the bathroom, I’d been too scared to try it since I couldn’t see anything out of it. I had no idea how high it was from the ground. The window in the main room wasn’t as well guarded; I was able to see through it if I put my face right up against it.”

“That matches how the serial killers operate,” Mickey replied. “But why heal your foot? That doesn’t make any sense to me whatsoever. It’s not cheap keeping someone alive for so many months while also giving them extensive health care. Even if they had the skills to do the work themselves, they’d still need the drugs to keep you sedated, they’d have to provide care to keep you from developing sores, and there’s a lot of work involved keeping someone unconscious or comatose for a long period of time. Mr. Tawnlen? How long would it have taken her arm to heal without her being aware of it?”

“Skin abrasions can heal in as quickly as ten days,” my boss reported. “But considering how ill Janette was at the time of kidnapping, I would call it closer to a month, especially if it were to become infected, which would be a high possibility considering the circumstances. The wound seemed fairly deep, which takes longer to heal. By now, there would be a noticeable scar. Is that correct?”

“There’s a scar,” I confirmed. I twisted my arm for a better look at my new decoration. “It doesn’t seem that bad, but I guess it’s bad enough. It’s a few inches long.”

“That supports it taking longer. The original wound was a full penetration, so you should have two dimes instead of a solid scar. A solid scar implies they cut the wound open, probably to remove or lance out infection. It might have been even longer than a month under those circumstances. We have no way of knowing unless your father is willing to use his magic to check, Bradley.”

Bradley stilled. “I’ll ask him about it once he’s out of the tub. He wanted to find out if the tub was truly capable of devouring the will of human adults.”

I laughed. “It’s the perfect tub for reading. We might lose him forever in there. A pity. I actually like your dad.”

“I like him, too. Maybe we should rescue him.”

“Maybe if he doesn’t come out before I have to use the bathroom? He might be tired of listening to you complain I was holding you hostage as a pillow.”

“Why are you assuming I would be complaining?”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t letting you go anywhere, like the bathroom.”

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“Possibly,” I admitted.

Bradley laughed, got out of bed, and grabbed his phone. “It’s obviously time to handle the basic needs, including dinner. We’ll resume this tomorrow. Once I’ve fed her, we’ll brainstorm, and I’ll try to get good information about what she knows, but I suspect we’re going to come up short on that front. We do have a new line we can pursue, though. Mickey, can you handle the research on what would be required for the type of surgery she had?”

“Absolutely,” he confirmed. “I’ll get Beatrice to help. Meridian has been following up on the new legislation; she crashed out before you got on the phone with us, Janette. It turns out she’s pretty good at getting intel from the politicians, so we have fresh copies of all the latest bills working through the house and senate.”

“How is she doing it?” I blurted. “Please tell me she hasn’t started a business in politician seduction.”

“It turns out her uncle is a filthy politician who loves sticking it to other politicians. She even gave us a lot of information on him—and he provided most of it, too. Her uncle is pretty feisty. So, he puts in the requests for copies or just gives her a photocopy of his copies. He just asks we keep the copies to ourselves, which we’re doing.”

“Please thank her for abusing her familial privileges, and tell her I’m relieved she wasn’t actually selling her body for the cause.”

“Will do,” Mickey replied. “Since we have work tomorrow, we’ll let you fend off your parents.”

Once Mickey and Beatrice hung up, my boss likewise bailed, leaving me to face off with my parents and Bradley’s mother.

“Horses, Mom?” I asked.

“They were going to be butchered because the overly wealthy racehorse farms didn’t want unproven mares and their foals. Your dad is a sucker for horses, and we could afford them because Bradley helped us with our stocks and we had some good fortune. We’re old, so use it or lose it. I even have someone lined up to teach me how to train and ride my new horses.”

“You’re not that old, because I’m not that old,” I replied.

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you get through the day, little girl.”

I sighed. “Okay. I’ll do that. Thanks, Mom. I’m now old. I was hoping to go through a vibrant middle age, but I guess I’m just plunging straight into the old category. Does that mean I get to make lace thingies that I decorate my home with?”

“No.” Bradley shot me a glare. “You’re not old. You’re perfectly aged.”

I laughed. “See, Mom? I’m perfectly aged.”

“That was a good one, Bradley. I shall honor your perfect retort and concede this battle now. But yes, we got horses. One is for you. Yours didn’t come from the market, though. They didn’t have any in the two colors you muttered about in your sleep when Bradley tried to wake you. There are more goats now, too.”

According to Bradley’s expression, my mother was doing a good job of driving him insane. “How many more goats?”

“Two. They’re weaned. They’re girls. They’ll be adorable in your herd of goats.”

“I think my mother won that one,” I informed Bradley.

“I concede.”

“How are you feeling?” my mother asked.

“Hungry.”

“Don’t eat Bradley. He’s not food.”

Damn. My mother was out for my blood. “I have other uses for him, none of which involve food unless I’m in a mood,” I stated in my most dignified tone.

“And that’s my cue to hang up, for I have lost the battle and the war with that one.” A click informed me my mother had made a strategic retreat while Bradley’s mother snickered.

“I think my mother thinks I’m planning to seduce you, Bradley. I’m too hungry to do anything like that, and your father is in the room.”

“I think she forgot we have adult supervision.”

Bradley’s mother kept on laughing, and when she recovered enough to speak, she said, “We can always move him to a different room if you two would like some privacy.”

“Maybe.” Bradley eyed me with interest.

I raised a brow.

“I’m hanging up on you now, Mom. Love you.” Bradley pressed the disconnect icon on his phone’s screen. Then, with zero care of his father’s comfort or privacy, he went to the bathroom and stuck his head inside. “She’s hungry and needs to use the bathroom, so your tub time is over.”

“I guessed that from what I could hear of the conversation,” his father replied, and I realized the tub no longer rumbled. Mr. Hampton emerged a moment later wearing his pajamas. “We’ll order in.” Snatching a leather folder off the desk, he offered it to me. “Get whatever you want and pretend your eyes aren’t bigger than your stomach.”

I took the menu and took longer in the bathroom than necessary, indulging in a lava-hot shower, as I wanted my next adventure in the tub to involve a naked Bradley and more books. When I emerged, father and son shared a bed and browsed through a second folder. “Where’d you get another menu?”

“From me,” my doctor said from the door, and she waved at me.

I yelped, about entered orbit, and bolted into the bathroom before comprehending the woman was actually my doctor. I bowed my head, sighed, and left the bathroom. “That was not one of my better moments.”

“It really wasn’t, but if I had a man as handsome as yours, I’d stare at him a lot, too. You get a pass. How are you feeling?”

“Hungry enough I’m thinking about ordering a pizza, a steak, and a salad, and the salad is composed of ice cream with various toppings.”

“Do you mean a sundae?” Dr. Mansfield asked with a grin.

“It sounds so much healthier if I call it a salad.”

“With how thin you are, you definitely deserve that salad. Bradley, I want you to make sure she eats five times a day. They can be smaller meals, but her calorie count should be no less than two thousand for her current height and weight. Give her a day or two, then increase by a hundred or two calories and some exercise. I’ll send a general plan to your phone. I also called in some prescriptions through a local doctor for some vitamins. If you need painkillers, let me know, but Yvon doesn’t think you’ll need any. The work on your foot is solid, and while you still need to heal, it’s all rebuilding muscle, walking around on it, and accepting your foot is going to be one big ball of pain when the weather changes. Keep a cane handy, because when the barometer shifts on you, you’re going to know it, it’s going to hurt, and you’ll want to limit how much weight you put on it until you’re used to it.”

“That’s a pretty damned good prognosis,” I said, staring at my foot, which seemed happy to bear my weight and didn’t even blip on my pain radar. “I can’t tell if it actually hurts or if I’ve become used to it hurting so much I’m not noticing it.”

“It shouldn’t be hurting you hardly at all right now. Yvon thinks you’ll have some soreness when you walk for a while, but the work that was done was good, the new bone has healed well, and they did a good job on the pins and rods. We’ll need to take you to a hospital eventually for a full scan to record everything that’s been done so we can make sure we treat your foot appropriately in the future, but these assholes did what I couldn’t.”

“I mean, maybe you could have done it if you were willing to knock my ass out for months at a time and lock me up?” I eyed my foot. “I don’t think I would have accepted that as an option, to be honest.”

“This is true. This wasn’t a conventional treatment, and frankly, it skirts being cruel and unusual punishment. Well, if you were awake for any parts of the procedure.”

Bradley stared at his father until the older man sighed. “With your permission, I can check.”

The Hampton family’s magic never failed to fascinate me, and I strode to the bed, sat down, and lifted my foot. “Trauma-induced amnesia is a thing with me.”

“It really is,” Bradley’s father muttered, shaking his head and placing his hand on my foot over where I had a new collection of scars to go with the pins and rods. A moment later, he winced. “I’ll just go ahead and confirm that now, Dr. Mansfield. The illusionist blocked her view of who had her, and she was only semi-coherent during the procedures, but she wasn’t fully sedated. Or it wore off during the procedure. I can’t tell which. But the pain imprint is pretty strong, and from what I can tell, she had a full medical team working on her. They all were masked and obscured, so at most, she witnessed some blurred shapes.”

“Can you tell me about her foot’s state at the start of the procedure?”

“Somewhat. They removed a lot of bone due to a severe infection; honestly, I’d probably do my best to forget this, too. They removed a chunk of bone and muscle from here.” He tapped a part of my foot near the new scar. Frowning, he put my foot back down on the floor and grabbed my left foot, poking and prodding at the top. “Yeah. They cut open her other foot, removed bone samples, and did the work that way. One operation. They removed the infection in stage one, disposing of all the infected bone, and then they took bone samples, mended the bone they’d pillaged from, and manipulated the sample to put it in her right foot. The pins and rods are meant to be permanent, as far as I can tell. They poked at her right foot in the areas where there are non-natural implants from prior operations but didn’t remove anything. Perhaps evaluating if they could replace those bones?”

“That’s a possibility. Feet are complicated, and in some cases, pins and rods and metal parts are better in the long term for the patient. That’s one handy ability, Mr. Hampton,” my doctor complimented. “Excellent. How much infection was there?”

“Enough they removed a huge amount of her foot getting rid of it, then they used the bone mender to restore what was taken by pillaging from her left. They restored everything at one time.” Bradley’s father scowled. “I remember this from my classes, but this was an amputation-level infection. They tore out that much.”

“Don’t be so cranky. It’s a solid medical procedure, and it’s done with some patients if the right doctor is available. Usually, it’s done with hands for musicians, artists, and those who simply cannot manage their normal lifestyle without a certain finger or their entire hand. It’s also prohibitively expensive, so most have it done through a medical school program. They would be charged at cost for the operation, which is still expensive, but it’s critical for teaching new bone menders how to handle this sort of procedure.”

“How many bone menders can do work on this level?” I asked.

Dr. Mansfield frowned, pulled her phone out of her pocket, and made a call. “Yvon? Mind coming over? Our patient is awake, and Mr. Hampton used his talent to give us a better idea of the procedure. We’d like to pick your brains.” After a pause, she laughed. “Not literally. You’re useless to us if we were to remove your gray matter from your skull.”

“They tortured her,” Bradley’s father grumbled.

“And she can’t remember it, so I would do your best to not worry about it. You can’t change it, and while she paid a hefty price in the form of pain, they did what we otherwise couldn’t because of that pain. It takes a particularly ruthless doctor to be willing to subject someone to that. I couldn’t do it.”

Somehow, that comforted me. “I probably would have let you, though. As long as I wasn’t isolated. I’ve learned I hate isolation.”

Unlike his father, Bradley relaxed, and he smiled at me. “I don’t like they hurt you, but I’ve always admired your determination.”

Someone knocked at the door, and a moment later, one of my original doctors, who’d fought rather hard to preserve my foot, strolled in through the door. I pointed at him. “You’re not the asshole!”

Crap. I clapped my hands over my mouth, heaved a sigh, and said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I am not the asshole,” the older man replied, and he grinned at me. “She means Dr. Avers. She was not shy about informing him he was an asshole, as he kept proposing we amputate her foot. While I didn’t get to finish the work I helped to start, I admired how you got up and left the hospital when you determined you did not appreciate what your medical staff discussed. For the record, I was always on your side, and you made it clear you wanted to keep your foot, so that was the only acceptable option.”

“My main podiatrist was a woman,” I said, frowning as I couldn’t remember the man being one of the vocal leaders of the medical staff.

“Yes, she was. I was called in as a consultant and supporting staff for her. Your case was above her skill level, but with my help, it was within her abilities. Had I been leading the team, I would have evicted Dr. Avers altogether.”

“I really appreciate that.”

“Now, what questions do you have about your foot? I am here, and if I can’t answer, I know who can.”

I vaguely remembered liking the man, although my feelings towards him hadn’t prevented me from bailing and running back to New York. As it would drive Dr. Mansfield halfway to crazy, I pointed at my right foot and asked, “So, you won’t have to amputate it?”

Yvon tossed his head back and howled his laughter. “Your foot is safe from us evil feet thieves.”

“I like this one, Dr. Mansfield. He actually has a sense of humor.”

“Much like yours, delightfully twisted and oddly morbid.” She sighed. “Mr. Hampton confirmed they did one operation for all of the work on her foot, starting with the infection removal and ending with bone mending and the pins and rods currently installed.”

Yvon whistled. “You’re one tough woman, Janette. That level of pain can be so intense it can kill somebody. The first time that sort of operation was tried, we lost a patient on a table due to pain-induced cardiac arrest. The current death rate for similar operations is twenty-five percent; unless we can induce a full medical coma, which is dangerous in its own right, most sedatives can’t handle the amount of pain we put the patients through—and there are consequences to using those sedatives. If you were partially conscious for the procedure, your doctor wanted you to get through it alive. He—or she—would have been able to monitor your risks of cardiac arrest and deal with a heart attack in progress. It’s much harder to prevent or treat cardiac arrest in a comatose patient when we’re working that sort of procedure. By the time we notice the preliminary symptoms, it’s often too late. This specific procedure is notorious for trouble, so it’s limited to medical schools with the world’s best leading the operations so student doctors can learn through observation—and treat potential cardiac arrest. Mr. Hampton, was there any evidence of a cardiac incident during the procedure?”

“How would I tell?” Bradley’s father asked, and deep lines formed along his brow, a match for his scowl.

“A very sudden departure from consciousness, loss of breath, dizziness, and discomfort in the chest.”

After a moment of concentration, he shook his head. “I’m not detecting anything like that. There also doesn’t seem to be any concern among the doctors. One person seems to have been given the job of attending to Janette. During some of the worst parts, there is a sense of someone holding and comforting her. Janette had no negative reactions to this.”

“Illusionist,” Yvon stated, nodding his head. “The illusionist would have manipulated her perceptions and inserted the most comforting individual possible to reduce trauma. We use illusionists when possible during operations in case the patient comes out of sedation unexpectedly, particularly on touchy procedures. This buys time for sedation to be used again so the operation can continue. In her case, that wouldn’t have been possible, so the illusionist would have manipulated her perceptions to insert the most comforting individual they could from their knowledge of her. Usually a loved one, a parent, or close friend—or someone trusted. It’s possible the illusionist formed a rapport with her prior to the operation and then used magic to erase the memories.”

“Is that possible?” I asked.

“An adept illusionist can do it, yes. But the strength of illusionist required is on par with the bone mender who’d done the work. They are few and far between. I can think of only two or three in the United States skilled enough to work the operating rooms.”

“Would any of them involve themselves in an operation like this?” Dr. Mansfield asked.

“Absolutely. All of them would, especially if they thought they could get away with it. Young Janette here has a very good reputation among those in the medical field. Long before you called me for consulting work today, I had indulged in creating a treatment plan and was debating how to implement it. That she went on to save numerous lives at great cost to herself? Yes, if given an opportunity, I could easily see many a brilliant mind performing a very questionable operation like this.”

Well, that seriously changed how I viewed doctors. “How long would that operation have taken?”

Yvon nodded at Bradley’s father. “He can tell you exactly how long it took, if my understanding of his abilities is correct.”

“I can. There’s a clock attached to the machines they had her connected to; it has the date and time on it.”

“Wait, you can tell that?” I blurted.

“I’m not the only one who fibs a little regarding my abilities. It’s bad enough the government knows what they do about what I can do. But yes, I can. Your surgery took place in early September, and it lasted twenty-seven hours. There must have been several teams doing the work.”

“Yes, that makes sense,” Yvon confirmed. “Removing the infection and identifying the ruined bone would have taken some five to eight hours, maybe longer depending on the severity. The next phase would be the preparation for the next part, call it an hour while someone made certain to control her bleeding and keep a close eye on her foot for complications while preparing the bone from her other foot. After that, it would have been a long haul for the bone mender. Twenty minutes minimum per bone to do so safely, and there were a lot of bones mended. There are twenty-six bones in the foot, and those bones work with the help of over a hundred tiny muscles, tendons, and ligaments. A second mender would have had to begin restorative work at the same time the bones were being worked on to make certain the foot would recover. It’s quite complicated. I would have expected thirty to forty hours using several shifts of surgeons for the amount of work needed when I’d first seen you. Twenty-seven hours is quite the feat.”

“I see you’re a fan of the medical team,” I said, raising a brow at Yvon’s enthusiasm.

“Oh, yes. It’s masterful work. Everything about your operative and post-operative care has been a masterpiece. Your foot has become a work of art. It will cause you pain in the future, and while you wouldn’t want to run races on it, you could if determined enough. You’re determined enough, so please spare my peace of mind and don’t run races. Start with walking, at a leisurely pace.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“But who?” Bradley’s father asked.

“That’s the question of the hour, isn’t it?” Yvon stared at my foot before shrugging. “At least I can perhaps provide the why, in that many in my field have expressed interest in taking on her treatments. Good deeds deserve reward, and she has the lives of many on her hands—and not in death, but in health. But that still leaves the who. Most curious, indeed. But rest easy tonight, Janette. Your foot is a masterpiece, and while you will limp on bad days, you will have plenty of good days.”

I could live with that, but I would still hunt for the truth.

Why try to kill Senator Westonhaus only to kidnap me?