that. He just needed someone to sympathize with him. I guess I was that someone.
I was about to leave when I remembered one more element of my uniform. I dug it out of the back of my sock drawer.
A cloth sash with a protected pouch just large enough to carry Grandfather's jewel. A parting gift from Carter. I still don't know why he had it. Amazing that the jewel fit in it perfectly.
As a tribute to Carter, I tied the sash on and dropped the red jewel into the pouch.
The funeral took place in an old Cathedral of Draso downtown, complete with ancient choir loft, hard pews, stained glass windows and the heavy scent of burning candle wax. I arrived just in time for an open casket viewing. I had intended to march up and give the doctor a salute, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead I took a pew near the back and kept my eyes trained on the floor.
By Almighty Draso, when was the last time I was in church? Certainly not this year. I closed my eyes. My last visit floated into waking memory – the funeral Mass for the zyfaunos labeled MIA in the War of Eons. My chest had hurt just as bad then as it did now. Carter's funeral, I told myself. The only funeral he'll ever have. Maybe it was time I visited his empty grave again.
"Excuse me, Captain Omnir?"
I looked up and nearly gagged. There stood Mrs. Laskey -- the proper Mrs. Laskey -- and Laurel. Genuine sorrow covered Mrs. Laskey's face but Laurel. . . It seems she had a hard time concealing her glee at the doctor's death, at least in my mind. Her frown was anything but convincing. She tossed her head, brushing her blonde hair out of her face.
I pressed Carter's image out of my mind, then stood and offered Mrs. Laskey my hand. "Mrs. Laskey. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." She took my hand gently and smiled, though her smile did little to cover the sorrow. "I'm sorry your husband wasn't able to introduce us properly."
"I'm sorry too," Mrs. Laskey said. She dabbed at her eyes. "I just wanted to thank you for what you tried to do for my husband."
I raised an eyebrow and tilted back an ear. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"You let him use you as an example in his demonstration," Mrs. Laskey said. "Being there got innumerable donations for the hospitals. Those wouldn't have been possible without you."
I felt my face get hot, though thankfully my red fur hid the blush well. "To be fair, ma'am, Dr. Laskey offered me a free upgrade I could never afford on my own. I could hardly say no."
Laurel huffed lightly, though I didn't think Mrs. Laskey noticed it. "Yes, he was always giving out handouts," she whispered so quietly that only my heightened hearing could have picked it up. "Perhaps that will slow down a bit now." She coughed.
I kept my face neutral, but inside my brain was shouting at me. I held out a hand to her and smiled. "I don't believe we've met."
Mrs. Laskey gasped, like an embarrassed host from some 1940's movie. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? Capitan Omnir, this is Laurel Pell. She's-- she was my husband's partner in the health business. She'll be taking over as president of the company."
You sneaky little bitch, my brain screamed. You offed him to stop his philanthropist ways and steal his fortune. "A pleasure," I said, careful to keep my anger and my hand from crushing hers.
Her smile couldn't hide her malice. "It's all mine, Captain." Then the two women walked toward the front of the church. Laurel's coughs echoed through the church, reminding me of Dr. Laskey's final coughs before he was ripped off the stage. I watched them, forcing my hands to relax.
You asshole.
You murderer.
You are a dead man walking.
My ears perked and the tension in my body left in an instant at that last thought. That was surprising. Did I intend to take revenge on my employer? I tested the thought again.
You are a Dead. Man. Walking.
Woman, I corrected myself. A dead woman walking.
And she was. I knew it. I didn't need any more conformation.
The funeral lasted almost three hours and featured dozens of past patients and friends making speeches about the good doctor's generosity and love. I managed to keep my tears under control -- after all, I had only known the guy for three days -- but the aching in my chest was as real as could be. When the speeches finally ended, we sang an old hymn and most of the guests filed out of the church.
I noticed Laurel was one of the last to leave. I made it a point to wait for her before moving myself. My hands clenched tight. Maybe I really could test the strength of this new gift.
She exited through a side door into a prayer garden. A prayer garden with no exit other than the door she had just left through. Probably just to keep up appearances.
I waited a few minutes for the rest of the congregation to clear out, then I followed her into the garden.
Blam! The sound of a subsonic carbine echoed like a car's backfire and the slug hit my side before I even knew what was coming. I spun to the floor. Blood gushed from my side. I'm sure I shouted at some point because soon I heard Neil's crackling voice shouting my name and felt him frantically pulling back my uniform's jacket. What was Neil doing here?
"Trecheon? Trecheon! Damn it all!" Neil ripped at the undershirt. "Don't you dare die on me, you understand?"
Everything clicked immediately. Neil had shot me. He was too close to have been anyone other than the shooter. I coughed, intending to berate him, call him a bastard, something, but I gurgled on blood. Shit, the bullet must have grazed my lungs. I turned and spat the blood on the ground.
Neil untied the sash around my waist, bundled it up and pressed it against the wound. "Your arm mounts seem to be slowing the bleeding, you lucky bastard." His voice shook.
How much blood was there? It couldn't be so bad that Neil was losing it, could it? I tried sitting up.
The world swam and I spat up more blood. Hell, I'd forgotten how good a shot Neil was. That asshole. . .
"Trecheon if you die, I'm going to kill you," Neil hissed. He pressed harder on the wound and I'm sure I would have cried out if I could breathe properly.
Then a bright light hit me in the face and I shut my eyes. But something worked at my side. It felt calming. Soothing. I felt lighter than air and more relaxed than I ever had in my life. Is this what dying feels like? But just as soon as it came, the light disappeared and suddenly breathing felt natural again.
"Holy hell."
I opened my eyes and blinked up at Neil. He looked at the blood stained sash and I noticed a faint glow from the gem it held. The glow lit Neil's shocked face. "It just. . . I mean, the jewel just. . . It healed you, Trech."
I spat blood again, but just remnants from the wound. "Don't call me Trech."
Footsteps. Neil looked behind him and cursed. "Trecheon, close your eyes, and play dead."
I didn't have to ask why. I did as he said.
I couldn't see her, but I could almost feel the anger and frustration wafting off Laurel's person. "You tried to save him."
"You didn't tell me I was gonna be killing my best friend, you bitch!" Neil said. "What was I supposed to do?"
"Let him die. You're being paid to kill, not to ask questions."
My blood boiled. Kill her, Neil. Just kill her now. She deserves it. Kill her!
But I heard her walk off, leaving a quiet trail of coughs. A few minutes later, Neil nudged me. "It's safe."
I sat up and felt my side. The arm mount was slightly damaged, but the wound was gone. I took a deep breath. The lung was healed too. I didn't even feel a need to cough.
My white glove came back bloody, though. "You're paying my dry cleaning bill."
"How the hell did that happen?" Neil asked.
I took the gem from him and examined it. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the same as always. But my mind wandered to Dr. Laskey's words. That day, years ago, my shoulders had looked like they had been healed by magic.
Was that. . . magic? I shook my head. Impossible. Magic wasn't real. Right?
"Come on," Neil said. "Let's get you out of her
e and cleaned up before the priests start asking questions."
He had a point. I stood up. I didn't even wobble. "Neil."
He looked me in the eye.
I ran a finger under my chin and pointed after Laurel with a snarl.
Neil said nothing. He didn't have to. His narrowed eyes, flattened ears, and angry frown told me all I needed to know.
Seven
I stood in the corner of Laurel Pell's empty hotel room, obscured by a tall dresser and curtains, running over our trek here in my head.
"Why the hell did you shoot me?" I had shouted at Neil.
He had just shrugged. "I didn't know it was you. I swear, Trecheon, I didn't."
I sighed. "Honestly, I believe you. If you had actually intended to kill me, you wouldn't have tried to save me. And frankly, I wouldn't be here to have this discussion with you. I'm surprised you didn't hit the heart."
"That's just because I was shocked at who I was shooting at," Neil said. "It was dark, and I shot before I really recognized it was you. I didn't have enough time to correct my aim and miss you. I guess you're just lucky that I shot too soon out of nerves."
"You still didn't answer my question."
"It was Laurel," Neil said, ears pasted back and a sheepish look on his face, an interesting clash on the face of a mountain lion. "She offered a pay raise to level seven if I took out an additional target at the funeral. She brought it up with me just ten minutes before she left for the funeral, so she didn't have pictures or anything. 'Just shoot when I tell you to,' she said. How would I know she meant you?"
"She's really trying to cover her tracks," I