Page 55 of Killian
“What did you remember?” asked Killian.
“The vial in my bag. It’s the mating cure!”
“I don’t know what that means,” said Killian. “What’s wrong with our mating?”
“No, not us. No, we’re fine. It’s for other wolves. That’s what the Head Librarian was talking about—the warlock spell that breaks our noses. They aren’t really broken,” she added condescendingly. “But there’s a spell that can block pheromone receptors and prevents us from finding our humans. Charlie says it acts like a virus. We’ve been working on it.” She added the last part in an off-hand manner as if she wasn’t paying attention. “What the hell is Cynog doing? I swear he’s going to get killed because he trips over his own spear.” She walked away, barking at Cynog, leaving Killian staring at the case poking out of the top of Moira’s bag.
A cure. Moira had said it so casually as if he had already known about it, but it had set off a cascade of alarm bells in his head. Apparently, he and Moira were in earnest about saving all wolf-kind one way or another. But the librarian hadn’t said anything about mating. She’d been talking about werewolves.Was that the same problem? Would this cure fix that too? If a spell stopped a wolf’s ability to pick up on the pheromones of humans, then it made sense that it would block mating bonds. Assuming that the mating bond was both magical and physical.
He glanced at Moira and felt himself sigh as she bent over to pick up Cynog’s spear. That ass was definitely both magical and physical. He pulled his gaze back to the box and tried to focus.
Mating bond. Magical. Physical. Right. Check.
But theoretically, that kind of spell might also prevent wolves from identifying which humans would be good werewolves. And if you had a cure for one, it was also a cure for the other. So even with the werewolf spell, they would probably still need this cure to make it work. It was a good thing they had both.
Episode 24
The Temple
Moira
Moira was concerned. Cynog was staring fixedly at a tree and nodding. Considering that Moira was about to try to convince him to stay behind with the head librarian this didn’t bode well for his current state of mind.
“Cynog?” Moira tried to pitch her voice for soothing and not total WTF, but she wasn’t sure she made it.
“All right,” said Cynog to the tree, “I know you’re nervous, but she is very nice, I swear.”
He beckoned to Moira and she came over to be introduced to the tree. She scanned the branches, hoping for a face somewhere but all she saw was one trembling leaf. With a hat. A tiny flower hat.
“Meep!” Moira’s hands flew to her mouth in excitement.
“Moira,” said Cynog, “this the sprite, Tilva.”
“Hello, Tilva,” squeaked Moira. Tilva’s tiny green face peeped from behind the leaf. Moira wished her phone was working—she needed photos. No one at home was going to believe her.
“Tilva is very upset about the warlocks,” said Cynog and Tilva nodded vigorously. “And she wants to accompany you on your assault at the temple.”
Moira tried to asses if the sprite could get hurt.
“Yes? I think that would be OK. You’re very fast, aren’t you? I mean you could get out of the way if one of them tried to hit you?”
The sprite shook her head and brandished her tiny sword.
“Oh, well, yes. Stick them, by all means,” said Moira. “Just not at your own expense.”
Tilva put a hand on her hip and looked offended.
“Right,” said Moira. “Just making sure we’re on the same page. But yes, very happy to have you. The more, the merrier, as it were.”
Tilva saluted with her sword, fluttering into the air, and then zipped off.
“I’m glad you said yes,” said Cynog. “Relations with the sprites can sometimes be fraught and this will build goodwill. Tilva is a big individual among the sprites.”
“She’s four inches tall.”
“Figuratively speaking,” said Cynog. “I was also relieved to hear you say the more, the merrier. Ceallach thinks that I am not well prepared for battle. Which is true. But I thought I could go with you.”
“Ah,” said Moira. “I did say that didn’t I?”
