“Hmm. I’d rather not drive right now. I might have very briefly lost consciousness earlier.” Ack. It sounded so bad. It really wasn’t that big a deal. Except for the whole “I’m a little woman who can’t handle stress without a nineteenth century fainting” response. There’s not even a corset to blame. Gah, it is that bad.

Uh-oh. The silence was becoming a tiny bit long.

“I’m leaving right now. If you’re not completely in one piece when I get there, I’m taking you straight to the hospital. Then I’m hunting down that furry jerk and kicking his ass, werewolf or not.” Lizzie heard the click as she disconnected. Great. As soon as Kenna discovered Lizzie whole and healthy, there would be hell to pay.

Fifteen minutes and a makeup application later—Lizzie wasn’t gambling on the effect pasty skin would have on Kenna—she let her irate friend into the house.

“Well, you’ve looked worse,” Kenna said as she leaned in for a hug. “Let’s get some tea—or coffee?—and then you can tell me everything.”

“Coffee. There’s not that much to tell, but I am glad you came by. Some friend support would be great about now. I certainly can’t talk to my family about this. Mom would fly down and medicate me herself, and Dad—I can’t even imagine. He would probably ask Mom to medicate him.”

Her parents were normal, average, and lovely in every way. But magic books and mysterious strangers were well outside their realm of experience. Lizzie thought again about inherited magic. No way. Maybe she was adopted.

And Lizzie felt this was her challenge, her problem, her adventure. She didn’t want to involve them in what would undoubtedly be a traumatic, or at least very stressful, experience. Her parents were in their 70s, for goodness sake, and this was magic. And werewolves.

After they were both seated at the kitchen table, coffee mugs in hand, Lizzie recapped the events of the day.

“Long story short, the guy that asked about the book? He’s a werewolf. I’m pretty sure. I mean, I guessed that he is, and he said yes.” She squeezed her eyes shut, like she was waiting for an explosion. When her statement was greeted with silence, she opened her eyes.

Kenna was practically tapping the toe of her sandal on the floor, she was so impatient. “And?”

“That’s about it. Although…” Lizzie frowned, clearly annoyed. “I’m a little doubtful of the rumors of werewolf super strength. He didn’t even pick me up off the floor and carry me to the sofa.”

“That’s the part I’m confused about. Why were you on the floor? How did you pass out?” Her toe was actually tapping now. “Did he sucker punch you? Or pull some weird wolf magic crap?”

“I ended up on the floor all on my own. Minor miscommunication on the phone earlier. I wasn’t knocked out; I passed out. No help from John needed, sadly.” She blushed slightly. Really, who fainted these days?