Page 35 of Killian
“This doesn’t concern you,” snarled one of the warlocks. “This is your one chance. Get out.” He gestured sharply with his machete. Killian realized that machete was going to be aiming for his neck next.
“Gloria Gaynor,” the man said, nodding. Then he put the Walkman down gently on the only table still standing. “Good choice.” He fiddled with his phone, pressing buttons with no apparent sense of hurry. Killian wrinkled his nose as he caught the peculiar after-scent of fur that wasn’t there at the moment.
“Speakers connected,” said the stilted female voice of the bar’s Bluetooth speakers.
Killian found himself grinning as the first violin strains ofI Will Survivebegan to play, filling up the air of the filthy bar.
“This is your one chance,” said the man, rolling up his sleeves. He bared his teeth in a smile, and Killian saw the canines grow. “Get out now, and wemightlet you live.”
“We?” scoffed the warlock. “You and this kaffir? I think we’ll manage.”
Killian gritted his teeth at the South African slur, and he saw the other shifter’s eyes narrow in dislike.
The warlock made a gesture, and two of them charged at the other wolf. There was a roar, and a third wolf crashed through the window in mid-shift form—all rangy limbs and massive claws. The two warlocks went down, and even though Killian was expecting it, he still missed the moment the man in the slacks moved. One of the warlocks above him went flying. Another started to say a spell but took a fist to the throat. Then the wolf was kneeling over Killian and muttering his own spell. The black stuff melted away, and Killian tried not to show hissurprise.
“Hi,” the man said, holding out a hand to help Killian up. “I’m Alekos Ash.”
“They’re going to get away,” said Killian as two warlocks ran for the door.
“Nah,” said Alekos with a grin. “Pellos is outside.”
Moira, put a gentle hand on his arm and Killian blinked at her in surprise.
“Where’d you go?” she asked.
“The coast of Turkey, I think,” he said. “These aren’t the first warlocks I’ve met.”
“Well, I was guessing that from the way you were, allthose are warlocks,”said Moira with a chuckle. “What else do you remember about them?”
Killian hesitated. They were bad people. He had that as bedrock certainty, but what did he actually know?
“Or, I guess, what else did you remember about Turkey?” she asked.
What did he remember about Turkey? He wasn’t sure he remembered anything about Turkey—a dirty bar full of warlocks probably didn’t count. But Killian wasn’t sure what else to say about the memory. It raised more questions than it answered. He was starting to think that maybe Hudson wasn’t the one who was adopted. Although, if he was the outsider, why did the others feel so much like his brothers? But it would explain why he was so jealous of Moira’s family.
“I wish I’d gone all those places with you,” she said, sounding wistful.
He wished that too. There was a cheer as the bubble popped and doused the flames.
“Well done!” bellowed the firm voice of Augusta verch Rhys. “One more, and then we’ll have it done.”
Killian realized that the head librarian was directing the rebuilding work in her bathrobe. Her long white hair was downin two thick braids. It made her look a lot more approachable, which was good because she was now coming toward them.
“Ah, you two,” she said, looking them up and down. Killian wished he’d remembered to put on a shirt. “I need you to explain,” she said giving them a hard stare, “why you did this.”
“They were attacking you,” said Moira, sounding as confused as Killian felt.
“Yes, but you made it quite clear that you are pro-human. You want to give them magic.”
“No, we don’t!” gasped Moira.
“You asked for werewolf records,” snapped the head librarian. “Humans are an immature species. They cannot be permitted that kind of power.”
“Ah,” said Killian. “Sorry, bit of a misunderstanding. We don’t want to giveallhumans magic. Just the ones that are ours.”
“I do not believe in the domestication and propagation of humans as a chattel species,” said Augusta. “And I will not support it. I do not like them, but I am morally opposed to slavery.”
“Um, no,” said Killian when Moira made a squeak of pure rage. “That’s not how it works.”
