They were Clive's judges.
The center judge, one of the elves, looked over the people who stood facing her. “Council is in session,” she said, “hearing the case of Kaarmanesh vs. Clive Winslow, a werewolf. Mr. Winslow, you are instructed to take the Rail.”
The Rail stood to the right of them, between their table and the Council's. It was what it sounded like, a wooden rail raised to a height of four feet. The accused criminal stood behind it for the duration of the hearing. Clive had never given it much thought. But now, as he stepped behind Kasia to take his place, the cold reminder of his guilt returned, this time laced with humiliation. He stood there, biting the inside of his lip, and staring ahead. He could not meet anyone's eyes.
The prosecution was succinct, laying out Clive's crimes in soft, horrified voices. They described the scene in the cabin's yard. The blood, the mangled flesh, and the smell of death were described in detail. Clive stared ahead.
Then Kasia spoke, explaining about Clive's work, and his record. She told them about the case, and his authorization to perform his duties. She described his condition when they found him.
Shandari spoke last, to describe the extent of his injuries. As an Empath, she had taken his wounds into her own body, and she told them in passionate detail of his physical pain, and of his mental and emotional torment.
They let him sit. He’d been standing for two hours, and he shook with weakness as he moved back to the table. He was not yet healed of all his injuries. The Council dismissed both teams, with instructions to return after deliberations were completed. Clive remained at the table for several minutes, his head resting on his hands, before joining Kasia and Shandari in the waiting room.
~~
“They're ready for us.”
Clive heard Kasia's words, but didn't look up from his full cup of cold coffee. Why am I so afraid? It's only death. A quick one, then... it's over. No more pain.
No more loneliness.
Kasia touched his shoulder and he slid the cup away before standing. A glance at her tight face brought a sudden, affectionate smile to his lips.
“I am sorry for all this,” he said. “And I am very grateful for your friendship. Whatever happens in there, I'm grateful.”
She blinked suspiciously bright eyes, but just patted his arm before turning away. Shandari joined them and they walked three abreast down the hall, not speaking. Clive did not glance around the hearing room when they entered this time, deciding he didn't need more intimidation. Instead, he focused on Kasia's back as she led them to their table, and on Shandari's presence behind him.
They were not defending him because it was their job. They were with him because they believed in him. Trusted him. There was some comfort in knowing that he did have friends.
But as the Council filed in a few minutes later, his thoughts went back to Tina, and the child she carried. The thoughts brought comfort. He may never see her again, never meet his son, no matter what the Council's decision. But even if they put him to death right now, he was leaving behind something that no werewolf ever had before.
And maybe, if Shandari was right, the tragic accident of a pregnancy would lead to a cure. This wasn't something he could lay claim to in any sense. But he took comfort from it, anyway.
The Council Lead spoke. “Mr. Winslow, you may take the Rail.”
As if it were a privilege. His legs were shaking and he was afraid he'd stumble on his way. So he stood straight, his back stiff to add strength to his legs. The rail seemed to recede as he approached it, as if he were trying to catch an asymptote. But he reached it at last, grasping the bar with one hand to steady himself.
He stared at the rail until its whirls stopped spinning before his eyes, and it settled back into solid wood again. He sensed the support of Kasia and Shandari, and raised his head to look at them. They did not deserve to be ignored. He gave them a slight nod, then turned his gaze to the Council, and waited.
They were watching him. When the Lead saw he was settled, she picked up the paper in front of her. As was custom, she directed her remarks to him.
“Mr. Winslow, you are no doubt aware that this is an unusual case. As a werewolf, and as a law enforcement officer, you know the laws you have broken are serious ones. Indeed, they are among the most important laws of Kaarmanesh. This Council has not found merit in the suggestion of self-defense. While it is true that you were imprisoned and tortured, you were free when you Changed, and your victims were unconscious when you killed them. As a werewolf, you had no control over your actions, but that is precisely why we have these laws, and the enclaves. I am sure you agree.
“However, this Council has found it necessary to consider the fact that you were functioning in your capacity as enforcement officer at the time of your capture and imprisonment. Your record in this capacity has been exemplary over the years, and speaks to your sincere dedication to the laws of our land, and the safety of our citizens. Because of these truths, the Council has voted to commute the sentence of death.”
His breath released in a shot; he had not been aware he held it. She raised a hand to forestall any noise that might be forthcoming in the room.
“It is not the service of this Council to dictate the duties of the Law Enforcement Division.” She glanced to the faun, who returned the look with a raised brow. She turned her gaze back to Clive. “Nor any other independent division of government. However, the Council has drafted a recommendation that henceforth, werewolves in positions of service must be assigned administrative duties only, to be carried out under close supervision of a responsible colleague. There must be no further instances of a werewolf allowed to roam free at the time of the full moon, while bearing the authority of the government. Your supervisor is directed to implement this change effective immediately, with the following exception.”
She placed the paper on the table, having never referred to it, and turned her gaze to Kasia, who sat stiff and pale in her chair. Clive felt a twinge of alarm.
“Board Member Raison has apprised this Council that there is a werewolf loose in the Flatlands. The Council agrees the situation must be remedied at once, and at any cost. It is Member Raison's opinion that it may take a werewolf to find a werewolf. For this reason, the Council authorizes Captain Windblood to assign Mr. Winslow to the Flatlands task force. Captain, you are surety for Mr. Winslow. You will assure his strict adherence to Kaarmanesh law, and return him to Kaarmanesh as soon as your mission is accomplished. The Council expresses its hope that your mission succeeds quickly, and that the border is once again secured for the safety of all.”
She tapped the table, once. “You are free to go, Mr. Winslow.”
Clive stumbled as he turned in bewildered relief, but Shandari was there, her hug holding him upright. He returned the hug, smiling over her head at Kasia, who punched him lightly on the arm.
“Let's go,” she whispered. Clive realized the wisdom of that suggestion. He hoped never to set foot in this room again.
Chapter 25
The last patient before lunch had just cleared out. Tina wandered up to the front counter, tapping her stethoscope with nervous fingers. “Sharon,” she said, then stopped to wait for the lump in her throat to clear away.
Sharon glanced up from her computer, her brows lowering in concern when she saw Tina's face. “What's wrong?”
Tina took a deep breath. “Have… have you seen Beowulf in the last couple of days? He didn't come home last night.”
Sharon paused to give it some thought, then shook her head. “I wasn't looking out for him, but I don't remember seeing him on the porch yesterday. I know I didn't see him this morning.”
“Okay, thanks.” Tina hurried to her office, closing the door just as she burst into tears. She covered her face with her hands, and sank onto the loveseat, unable to control her sobs.
Sharon entered in less than a minute and sat beside her, arm around her shoulders. “I'm sure he's fine, Doc,” she said. “You know how cats are. He's out h
aving a good time, but he'll be home soon.”
“He never stays away.” Tina choked the words out, snatching at the tissues Sharon handed her. “He's always waiting when I get off work, he's always sleeping on my front porch, you know that. He… was… mad at me yesterday, and now… now he's run away.”
“What's going on? Who's run away?” Will Summerlin, arriving for their weekly lunch meeting, came into the office and knelt in front of Tina, his face creased in concern.
“Her cat,” Sharon said. Tina cried harder.
“Oh.” Will rubbed Tina's head. “Nah, it's spring. I bet he's off having a good time.”
“He's neutered,” Tina said. “He was mad or sick or something, and he's run away. Or maybe a raccoon got him. Or…,”
“Tell you what, we'll put a notice in the paper, and put up some posters around town,” Will decided. “Everyone knows Beowulf, so if they know he's missing, they'll be on the lookout. Don't write him off, Tina.”
“Sure,” Sharon said. “I'll call the paper right now, and make up a poster. I have pictures of him on my computer. I'll use one of those. It won't take more than a few minutes. I'll print out a bunch and go put 'em up while I get my lunch. We'll find him.”
Tina blew her nose, recovering a bit. “Okay. Let's do that.” She stared at her hands. “But I have a really bad feeling about this.”
“You're tired,” Will said. “You've had the plague to deal with, all the deaths, starting with those boys, and an unexpected pregnancy. That's a lot of stress. I'm not surprised you have a bad feeling.”
Sharon stood up and patted Tina's shoulder. “Let me get right on it. You have some food and put your feet up.” She turned to Will. “Doc Summerlin, there are sandwiches and fruit in the fridge, and I just made a fresh pot of herbal tea. You feed this lady while I do the paperwork.”
“Yes, ma'am,” he said, lifting Tina's feet and turning her to prop them on the sofa. He tucked a pillow behind her head and pointed a stern finger at her. “Rest. I'll be right back with food. Here.” He snatched the bottle of water that stood on her desk and handed it to her. “Drink. You look dehydrated.”
She took it, grateful for their care. “Thank you.” Another tear tracked her cheek, although she was through sobbing. She drank the water, as ordered, then chewed on her lip while Will rustled through the fridge in the kitchenette. Beowulf's behavior had been more than odd. And she had no doubt that his disappearance was connected.
Will interrupted her thoughts, striding into her office encumbered with stacked plates topped with wrapped sandwiches, two pears, and paper towels in one hand, plus two cups of hot tea and a sharp knife dangling from the fingers of the other hand. She met him halfway to relieve him of the knife. “You could have made two trips.”
“Wouldn't have been macho enough,” he said, placing the cups on her coffee table with exaggerated care. He took back the knife. “I'll slice the pears, you unwrap the sandwiches.”
“All right.” Tina turned to a topic guaranteed to keep Will talking. “Tell me how little Jed is doing. He's all well from the illness, I take it? Back to being a terror?”
It worked, although it was obvious that Will was determined to cheer her up anyway. He chatted on about his two-year-old son, and then about his wife's efforts to help the community get back to normal life. But when they'd finished eating, he switched to business.
“I've got a patient who seems to have a fear of treatment,” he said. “I can't get her to commit to an appointment, or get her blood work done.”
Tina rolled her eyes, covering a flash of nerves. “Very funny. You know I've been busy.”
He leaned toward her. “You're three months pregnant and you’ve been through a stressful situation. I'm sure everything is fine, but you know it's best to do baseline tests early on. Blood and urine. That's all I'm asking.” He pointed at her. “Don't deny that you're avoiding it. And that's what worries me. What are you afraid of?”
She stared at him and gave her head a small shake. How could she explain this?
His brow wrinkled, eyes gentle with concern. “STD?”
She took a nervous sip of tea. “No. It's… complicated.”
He spread his hands. “I'm a smart guy. I can take it.”
Her hands trembled and she swept them through her hair to hide it. She had to tell him someday. “All right. I'll show you.”
She crossed to her desk, pulled out her keys, and unlocked the bottom right drawer. Her hand shook as she reached for the file she'd hidden at the bottom. Her own file. Medical records that Sharon must not see.
She stared at the folder in her hand, and bit her lip. He won't believe me. I had to see for myself before I believed Kasia. What do I tell him?
She jerked in surprise when he came to stand in front of her desk. Guilt made her look away from his disturbed expression.
“What is that?” he asked.
“Results of my blood test.”
“What? Where did you have them done? Why did you go somewhere else?” His tone revealed both hurt and insult, although he was trying to remain impartial.
“I did them myself.” She held out a hand. “I'll try to explain, but you won't like this. I’m sorry, Will. This is hard.”
He shook his head. “Just talk.”
She handed him a paper from the folder. “This is a printout of my blood sample.” The photo, labeled with the date, time, and magnification, showed hundreds of the white anti-vyra-stribdal. Will stared at it, turning it up and down to view it from different angles. He pulled the entire folder from her hand and walked back to his chair to sit, before looking up at her. “What is it?”
She stayed behind the desk. “They're antibodies. My baby has a disease, but my body is producing this antibody in response.”
“That's not how it works, Tina.”
“I know.”
“Tina….”
“I'm trying, Will. It's hard to explain.”
“We're both doctors. Just tell me what the hell it is.”
Will never swore. Tina felt guilty to have driven him to that point.
“It's called a vyra-stribdal.” Tina waved a hand. “But that's not important. It's genetic, from the baby's father. It's very rare, Will. So rare, it's almost non-existent. I… I should have played the lottery that day.”
He closed his eyes, but she saw the anger in his tight jaw. When he opened his eyes again, she realized he wasn’t just angry. He was afraid, too. For her. For the town.
“What are you doing, Tina?” he asked.
“Doing?”
“Vyra-stribdal is not Latin. It's not anything. If you're going to make up a name….”
“I'm not making anything up. Look, I told you this is hard to explain. Don't make it harder by calling me a liar.” Her own anger strengthened her voice. “It's not important what the disease is or does. But I've got to work with another doctor on this. That's why I haven't been seeing you.”
He tossed the folder on the table, stood, and reached her desk in one long step. Gripping the edge of it with both hands, he spoke in a hard, cold voice. “I am not just your doctor. You can’t dismiss me for your own convenience. I am your colleague, and I am your friend. You can see any doctor you want, Tina, but you owe me the courtesy of an explanation. Who are you working with? What are their credentials? And what...” He turned, swept the folder up and threw it on her desk with such force it knocked several other papers onto the floor. “What does this… organism… do?”
Her mouth trembled as she fought to contain both anger and sorrow. She and Will seldom argued about anything. Yet she had no right to betray the secrets of Kaarmanesh.
“It has… morphological… properties.” She waited for his response, but he just stared at her. She tried again. “Given the right triggers, the vyra-stribdal join together and cause damaging changes to the body. I don't know how I'm producing an antibody to it. I just know I am, and if we can figure it out, it could mean a cure or a treatment at the very least. My
baby has this disease, Will. So does his father. I want to find a treatment.”
He continued to stare at her, jaw tight as he thought about it. He gave a slight nod, but his next question proved he was not yet satisfied. “Did the CDC discover this while they were here? Are you working with them?”
It was tempting to say yes. But it would be easy find out the truth. “No,” she said. “It's not the CDC.”
His eyes narrowed, flashing with frustration. He glanced at his watch. “I want to see a sample. We have a few minutes. Do you have any live cultures?”
A surge of longing went through her, surprising in its intensity. I want to show him. I don't want to be the only human being who knows about this. I can't keep holding it in.
She stepped from behind her desk, heading for the door. “Come on then. I'll show you.”
In the lab, she grabbed a slide and lancet, holding her hand out to Will. “Let's start from scratch, so you know without doubt it's from me.”
He shook his head, but swabbed her finger and jabbed the lancet into it. He squeezed a large dot of blood onto the slide and set it up while she bandaged her finger. She didn't say anything as he gazed into the microscope. When he finally turned from the scope, he stared at the counter rather than look at her.
“I want to work on this, too.” He met her eyes. “You tell them that. Whatever's going on here, I want in on it.”
“They may not agree.”
He leaned toward her, anger in every pore. “You make them agree. I don't care if they're corporations with proprietary rights, or the government, or the X-Files, you make them agree.” He stood and moved to the door before turning back. “This town has been through hell in the last few months, Tina. Everyone knows how hard you worked to help them through it, and people are excited about your pregnancy. Since you're not married, everyone feels protective of you. So unless you plan on packing up and moving away for good, I suggest you let your collaborators know you can't shut us out. Think about it.”
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