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Elora Silver is a doctor that specializes in treating strange diseases and troublesome afflictions, however she is destined to never cure her own. Collection of one shots.

Humor / Romance
Maya Chevalia
Age Rating:

Werewolves and Rabies

"Are you Dr. Silver?" The large man questioned her butler.

She turned the page of her book and ignored the two, eyes skimming the page for the information she needed. She was desperately searching for a medicinal recipe that required mint. She'd accidentally let it overrun her garden. She cursed the day she'd let Victor talk her into planting it.

"I apologize, I'm not who you're looking for," Victor responds softly.

"I was told that there was a doctor in this village that specialized in, um, peculiarities. When I asked for directions I was pointed here."

She sighed and closed her book over the page marker. Gathering her skirts and her patience, she approached the gentleman with a smile she reserved specifically for customers.

"Pleasure to meet you, this is Victor Croft, and you may call me Ms. Silver," she introduced politely.

"Is your husband home Mrs. Silver? I'm in desperate need of the good doctor's aid."

"Then you would be pleased to know that I am Dr. Silver," she grit her teeth and smiled wider. At least the man had the sense to look embarrassed.

"Apologies milady, it's very rare to see a doctor of your persuasion." He meant female. She could feel her eye twitch.

"It's quite alright. Please follow me inside and we'll begin to diagnose." She turned and glared her way into the house. She made sure to step on Victor's toes as she passed as recompense for his stifled chuckle. The man scrambled into the yard and hurried to follow her. Victor opened the door for them and ordered Victoria, the maid, to make tea.

They settled in the study, a small room piled high with books in every corner. Herbs hung from the windowsill and bookshelves, mostly mint, which gave the room a pleasant earthy scent. She was only slightly embarrassed when Victor had to move a precariously stacked arm load of books from the chair opposite hers in order for her new patient to sit down.

"So, tell me what's been going on with you," she demanded with a shy cough, moving the papers and books from her desk so she could maintain line of sight.

"You'll think I'm mad," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. He was bouncing his knee, sitting on the edge of his seat.


"James Remington," he cut her off.

"Mr. Remington," she began again, "I have encountered many strange things over the years. If I shared some of these things with you, you would think I'm mad."

"I can turn into a wolf," he blurts out, eyes wide, knee bouncing a mile a minute.

"Ah, Lycanthropy. A common occurrence in these parts. When were you bitten?" She inquired, digging through a drawer for a pen and ink. When only silence answered her she glanced up and was met with his slack jawed gaze. "When were you bitten?" She repeats, arching an eyebrow.

He seems to shake himself from his disbelief. "Last month, I was hunting in the woods. That's my trade you see," he explained. "This massive wolf came out of nowhere, bit the tar out of me and disappeared. I thought it was gonna kill me!"

"Yes, unfortunately it didn't, and now you're cursed to a half life. Don't worry, we'll get you right as rain! There's no cure for lycanthropy of course, but we can certainly supress the inhuman rage and vaccinate you for rabies," Elora smiles, jotting down his name and diagnosis.


"Can you describe the wolf that bit you?" She asks absently, continuing to make notes.

"What do you mean there's no cure?"

"You were bitten on the night of the full moon. You may have had a chance were it any other night. Due to your own misfortune and ignorance, you're now doomed to howl at the moon and wag your tail one night every month," she cheerfully declared. "Now, the wolf that bit you?"

She could see his anger welling to the surface. New werewolves were so quick to snap.

"So what you're telling me, is that I'm a monster now? What about my family? How do you know I was bitten on a full moon?" He growled, eyes shining with an inhuman light.

"Mr. Remington, do calm yourself. I would hate to have to become physical with you. Simply put, had you described a large human like creature covered in fur with a monstrous snout attacking you, then I may have had a different prognosis. The fact that you were bitten by a wolf insinuates that it was a full moon."

He seemed to simmer down at her explanation. "What do I do about this?"

"All things considered, you're taking this very well. You'll be fine. You can still be with your family, and continue with every day activities. I'll give you medication you must fill once a month and take daily until you're capable of controlling yourself. New werewolves are prone to, ah, anger issues. Just a precaution so you don't accidentally kill anyone." She began writing his prescription on a seperate sheet.

The man before her looked overwhelmed. She reached across the desk and pat his hand reassuringly.

"Don't worry. We'll vaccinate you and send you on your way. Aside from one day of the month, you're a completely normal man. A description of the wolf that bit you would be helpful. I have a book I keep you see, so that I might identify the wolves in this area."

"Oh, uh, it was grey, with one white streak on it's front paw, the eyes were blue," he muttered, watching as she wrote his words on her paper, followed by a name.

"Here we are! Victor have Victoria prepare the vaccine. Now, we can discuss payment."

"I hate to admit, but I'm barely scraping by, I don't have much money to offer you," he averted his eyes and wrung his hands.

"If I needed money I would treat regular patients. What I want from you, is just a bit of blood."

"Blood? What are you going to do with that?" He questioned, appalled.

"It's for medical purposes naturally. Are you willing to pay me for my treatment? If you go to another doctor they'll put you in an asylum you know," she grinned smugly.

"Fine! I'll do it! No need to heckle me woman," he grumbled.

"Don't worry, the rate at which you heal has increased exponentially. This won't hurt a bit."

Victor had returned to the room carrying a package and two syringes, one empty, the other filled with the vaccine for rabies. The package contained his month's supply of medicine and instructions on how to take it. She instructed James to take a deep breath and count to three, and she stuck the syringe in on two. He snarled, but the extraction of his blood was a smooth process.

"Here you are Mr. Remington, be sure to return next month for another set of medication if you still find it difficult to control yourself. It was a pleasure doing business with you." She was speaking to him, but her eyes hadn't left the red vial in her palm.

"May I ask you something?"


"Are you afflicted? How are you so knowledgeable about a matter like this?"

She looked up at him, liquid eyes now the color of blood and purple dye. Her smile was chilling, her teeth flashed back and forth between blunt and sharp.

"Quite simply, I'm cursed."

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