Page 42 of Killian
“Not a clue,” said Moira. “But it’s important to Cynog, and a few minutes delay won’t hurt. So we’ll just sit here and I will get a snack. They feed you here, but they don’t seem to think about food often enough for my taste.”
“Yes, well, they all look like they were born to be described as willowy,” said Killian. “So that seems right.”
Moira chuckled as she dug into her bag, and she pulled out the leaf-wrapped packages that Killian thought of as elvish protein bars. Inside her bag, he could see the blue box with the vial and syringes. He reached in and took it out.
“Sure,” said Moira, “torture yourself with a mystery. I’m going to eat.”
He opened the lid and looked at the vial again, as he unwrapped his bar.
V1.5 Shelf stable, two doses. Not necessary for humans. Estimated time to effect: twenty minutes for most wolves.
“I don’t understand why it says it isn’t necessary for humans,” said Killian.
“Why does it say anything?” complained Moira. “I mean, it’s important. Of course, it’s important. I’m not trying to make light of it.”
“It’s important?”
“Yes,” said Moira. “For wolves because…” Moira chewed angrily and Killian sympathized. He hated that feeling of a memory just out of reach. He smelled the vial. It didn’t smell like anything much and it didn’t illicit any memories for him. Moira growled and shoved the rest of her bar into her face and then snatched the vial out of his hand and sniffed it. She handed it back with a wrinkled nose and a scrunched-up face. Then she scratched behind both ears vigorously.
“Cure,” she blurted out at last.
“For what?” asked Killian.
“Don’t you have any memories of it?” she asked, hopefully.
“No,” he said, shaking his head.
“Well, it’s not for us,” she said, confidently. “We don’t need it.”
“OK,” he said slowly. “That’s good. But who is it for? I mean, the vial says it’s for wolves. But not you and I?”
“No, we don’t need it,” she said again. “Because…” She trailed off and growled in frustration. “We made it.”
“You and I made it?”
“The pack. No. Well, we helped fund it.”
Killian looked at the vial again. The tiny vial of clear liquid was something that needed funding. Wolves funded things now? Since when? That felt surprising.
“But we didn’t come up with it,” said Moira slowly. “That was… Charlie.”
“Who is Charlie?”
“A witch. She and Aunt Azure are witches.”
“But it looks science-y,” said Killian, poking at the vial. It could be a magical elixir, he supposed, but it didn’t seem like elixirs ought to come with syringes.
“I know, right?” Moira read the instructions again and then closed the box and tucked it back in her bag.
“So, our pack works with witches?” asked Killian, still trying to puzzle through the implications of what Moira had said. “In fact,your uncle is married to one?”
“Apparently? That’s kind of badass. You know, I’m starting to think my uncle is a total rebel. I wish I could remember Azure. All I’ve got is sort of blue mystical vibes. Hell, I wish I could remember him better too.” Her face twisted unhappily.
“What?” he asked.
“It’s kind of a lot to live up to.”
Killian refrained from saying that he completely agreed. If the standard for mates in her family was a witch who could invent science-y type cures for unspecified wolf issues then he was screwed. He was a mediocre wolf who liked disco.
