Page 55 of Hoofin’ It

Had I been a pristine human, one without exposure to the lycanthropy virus, my supervisors would’ve promoted me within a year despite my low magic rating.

The CDC had a field day with my case, and they rolled my insurance company so hard they begged for a settlement. Their opening offer made the CDC’s lawyer laugh.

Then he filed to take the case before a judge, naming the CPD as co-defendants in the trial. Two days later, my notice of termination arrived by courier, listing my unavailability as just cause. Those documents went to the lawyer, who added them to the growing pile of evidence.

In a special hearing the next day, the judge overturned the termination, declared it unlawful, and had it and all related reprimands struck from my record. At the same time, I handed in my resignation, which would at least leave doors ajar rather than firmly closed and locked.

Without a functioning eye, I wouldn’t be joining any branch of law enforcement soon. I knew it, the judge knew it, the CPD knew it, and the insurance company knew it, too. Yet, we danced in court, and what could have been two hundred thousand dollars in my pocket became a circus in the Chicago courts, one that would either nail the coffin closed on lycanthrope rights or breathe new life into it.

I hoped for the latter but expected the worst. It was Chicago, after all. My initial payout wouldn’t last forever, so I looked for some way to make a living while the rest of my life was put on hold, at the mercy of a bunch of lawyers and a court system rigged against me from start to finish.

In the true American way, what started as an insurance fraud case became a circus, one where every last facet of my character was put on trial in front of a jury of my peers and the media. The CDC used every resource at their disposal to shine light on the insurance frauds committed against lycanthropes and those infected—or falsely assumed to be infected.

They even did a live demonstration of my immunity, cutting my arm open deep enough one of the jurors fainted before injecting me with active wolverine lycanthropy virus serum. I had to admit the demonstration’s effectiveness; the wound took less than ten minutes to close, leaving a pale scar in its wake, and within an hour, I scanned clean.

The unexpected test came when they drew a vial of my blood while I was still infected with the virus and put it under a microscope for the judge and jury to watch. Outside my body, the virus died within minutes. They performed one final test, requesting the presence of an angel for the purpose of the demonstration.

Angels creeped me out. Their lack of a head wasn’t the problem; I could deal with that. It was the way they moved, silently lethal and every inch the predator, that got to me. I’d seen enough of them in my life to recognize one. What the angel hunted, I didn’t know.

Judge Wellington regarded the latest witness with an arched eyebrow. “You’ve done a demonstration Mr. Gibson is, as you claim, immune to the lycanthropy virus. Explain to the court why the presence of an angel is necessary.”

The CDC’s lawyer rose from his seat and approached the judge, turning to face the crowd packed into the courtroom. “Your Honor, angels share a significant amount of biological processes with humans. They can be infected with many of the same ailments humans can, including lycanthropy. However, unlike humans, they can purge these ailments from their bodies at will. This makes them ideal for certain demonstrations, including the contraction of the lycanthropy virus. Abrahaman has generously consented to the final demonstration we wish to show the court regarding Mr. Gibson’s case. This test will irrefutably prove that Mr. Gibson is—and has always been—incapable of infecting the public he served. His status as a human exposed to the lycanthropy virus led to the police and his insurance company collaborating in a joint effort to force him out of active duty. If he hadn’t been flagged as exposed, he would have received a functional eye and been able to resume his duties as a police officer.”

“Is this correct, Abrahaman?”

“It is.”

I couldn’t even begin to guess how the angel spoke without a mouth.

“Proceed.”

“For this demonstration, we will inject Mr. Gibson with a high quantity of the lycanthropy virus, sufficient to ensure infection in a standard human. We will use a cell count of approximately half that required for a first shift. This is the equivalent of the virus incubating for an excess of ten years, which is sufficient development for the virus to spread. As angels have biological processes on par with a human’s, within an hour of exposure to Mr. Gibson’s blood, should Mr. Gibson be a contagious risk as claimed, Abrahaman will have detectable amounts of the lycanthropy virus in his bloodstream.”

“You have the court’s permission to proceed.”

As the primary test subject, my job was to stand around and do as told. To either drive home the point of the case or to make the more prejudiced squirm, a cougar lycanthrope in hybrid form handled the injections. She showed her teeth to the ground while her muscles ripped under her glossy tawny fur, a not-so-subtle reminder of her inhuman strength.

The lawyer had explained to me the reasoning for the extreme experiment. First, it would establish without the shadow of a doubt I was immune to the lycanthropy virus. Second, it would establish the humanity of lycanthropes, as only humans could be infected with the virus.

Angels transcended humans, but their bodies were still human in certain ways. They could contract lycanthropy. Unlike humans, they could cure themselves of it.

The lycanthrope injected five large syringes into my arm; after the third, the fever kicked in. When I wasn’t sweating, chills ran through me. Worse, it made the slow-healing bite on my shoulder throb.

“Unfortunately, such a sudden, high-level exposure to the lycanthropy virus has consequences, including general malaise and fever,” the CDC’s lawyer explained. “This has been recorded in susceptible humans.”

I wanted to find somewhere nice, quiet, and private so I could throw up, but I clenched my teeth and waited for the cougar to finish her injections. She gripped my left shoulder, ducking her head to my ear. “You have our thanks,” she growled.

Not trusting myself to speak, I acknowledged her with a nod.

“In ten minutes, we’ll draw a vial of blood and inject it into Abrahaman. This will interrupt proceedings for approximately five minutes.”

The judge acknowledged the lawyer with a nod. Efficiency mattered to Judge Wellington, and he wasted no time shifting gears and bringing up another element of my life. “You requested for your witness to take the stand during this phase of the trial. You have the court’s permission to call your witness to the stand.”

“Objection!” the insurer’s lawyer squeaked.

Of all the species of centaurs I’d ever met, the rats amazed me in their variety. Most of them were nice people, as close to angels as humans got. Unfortunately, the ones who became lawyers gave demons, devils, and vampires a run for their money.

It said a lot the police had gone to the worst of the worst for their defense.