Shooting star

The guardian angel of Ketterdam

My tiny shack is busy as ever. Rich people, homeless people, gang members. It doesn't matter to me.

"Next please." I call out, sensing two more people outside. As they enter, I recognize them as the wraith and the sharpshooter, also known as Inej Ghafa and Jesper Fahey. The latter is bleeding from his right shoulder, stomach, and left thigh.

"On the table." I instruct, washing my hands quickly. Inej helps him onto the hard metal as he's barely conscious.

"What kind of injuries?"

"Gunshots." Damn, those are the worst. It's tricky to get the bullets out. After a quick exam, I find out that the bullet in his abdomen has punctured his stomach, his pancreas, and his spleen. That is insanely unlucky. The other two wounds aren't life-threatening, so I focus on the one in his abdomen. Grabbing a set of medical tweezers I mentally prepare for what is ahead. I lower his heartbeat to the point of unconsciousness and try to get the bullet out, which is extremely complicated since I can't see what I'm doing. He's losing too much blood too quickly.

"Out." I order and she rushes outside. Then I concentrate on the metal in the bullets and let all three of them fly out of his body. Good, first step is done. I push the fabric of his shirt up and start to heal his first wound.

About five minutes later I call Inej back in as I wash up. There isn't even a scratch visible on Jesper's skin.

"Thank you. The saints must have sent you. I wouldn't know what I'd done otherwise." She says as I wake him up.

"There you go. All fixed up."

"It's you. The guardian angel of the barrel. How do you even breath underneath that mask?" My hand reflexively shoots up to the black clay of the mask that's covering my whole face.

"Just fine, thank you. You should be more careful in the future."

"Yeah, yeah. Inej says the same all the time."

"And I'm right." She states, worry sparkling in her brown eyes. Friendship is such a beautiful thing you rarely ever see in the barrel and I just can't help but long for a bond like theirs. They thank me before they leave. Some part of me wishes to go with them, join what they have. But I can't, I need to stay and keep helping people.

I finish with my last patient my mind wandering back to the encounter with the two dregs last week, yet again. Somehow, I can't seem to shake the longing for that kind of trust. And some part of me keeps visualizing Jesper's smirk. My stomach turns with a bad feeling and I check my surroundings. Nothing. Putting my last utensils away I get the same feeling again. Still nobody in sight.

But as I make my way into the alley, I use to change out of my costume every night, I know where the bad feeling came from. Five men surround me, one of which seems to be a Drüskelle. I stop in my tracks and look around.

"Really? I don't get it. I help everyone and they still rat me out?" One of the men lunges forward and while I'm busy taking him down, the Drüskelle throws something at me. Some kind of rope, binding my wrists together and securing my arms around my waist so I can't use my powers. The Drüskelle comes over to me and takes the mask off my face.

"Maybe they don't want your help. Or they don't want witches around." Before I can think of a snarky response, gunshots ring out. I drop to the ground and wait. I'd love to cover my ears or lower m own heartbeat to keep from having a panic attack, but my hands are bound. Inej appears and cuts the rope, freeing me. I instantly check my surroundings, but all the men are lying on the ground. So I lower my own heartbeat and take a deep breath before I get up. I come face to face with Dirty hands.