The next morning, Lizzie woke up and groaned. “It’s over, and it never even started.”
“Hmm?” John was in bed next to her, reading.
How romantic.
“Our supposed engagement honeymoon.” She stretched. “Bacon makes most things better, but even bacon can’t whitewash the fact that our vacation was hijacked.”
“True.” John put his book down. “But we don’t have to leave for at least two more hours…”
Lizzie laughed. “If that’s your subtle way of making a pass at me”—she flashed the ring on her finger—“I’m already caught, buddy.”
“Uh huh.” John nudged the book off the bed with his elbow. “No need to remind me.”
A few hours later, Lizzie was standing on the landing, the halfway point down the condo stairs, staring out at the lagoon. She shifted the phone on her ear. “They may be little, but they are a lot meaner than you implied.” Lizzie closed her eyes as the images from the night of John’s attack flashed through her mind. “A lot meaner.”
“Krampuses do have a vicious bite. I told you they bite.” Harrington didn’t sound even the least apologetic.
“They didn’t try to bite. They tried to tear John apart. At least now I know where the huge monster of legend comes from. No one would believe such tiny creatures were such wildly vicious little bastards.”
A silence followed.
“Harrington, you still there?”
“Hm. Yes.” Harrington cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
Lizzie closed her eyes and shook her head. “Right. You’re going to fix up the chief and his people?”
“I’ve got an emissary on the way with secondary and tertiary locations to propose. He’s already made email contact with the chief. I had no idea your Krampuses might be on email.”
Yeah, that had shocked the hell out of Lizzie when John had told her.
“Well, something good came of this whole mess. They really did need a hand. And no one would have known except for their little deranged frat-boy outings.” Lizzie watched John pile their few belongings together just outside the door of the condo. She covered the phone and whispered, “He’s got an emissary en route.”
John nodded. “Good news.”
“Yes, well, again, you have IPPC’s thanks,” Harrington said. “Hope it didn’t interfere too much with your holiday.”
Lizzie could feel a growl building in her throat. She clenched her teeth. Once the urge passed, she said, “Goodbye, Harrington.”
And then she hung up. For once, she was the one ending the call.
“Take that, Harrington.” Lizzie gave her phone a nasty look.
John made a choked noise as he walked down the steps, but she couldn’t quite make out his expression.
Eyeing him askance, she said, “Are you laughing at me?”
“Absolutely not.” John pried her fingers away from her phone and slipped it in his back pocket.
Lizzie sighed and looked up at the bright orange-tiled roof of their condo. “Is it insane that I don’t actually want to go home?”
“They say that’s a sign that you’ve enjoyed your vacation.” John gave her an innocent look.
“Don’t be a smart ass.” She wrinkled her nose. “I just keep waiting for the moment when our personal lives aren’t hijacked by magic, or IPPC, or the Pack.” She rested her arms on the railing and stared out at the lagoon that separated the condo from the beach. Eventually, the chilly breeze started to make her nose run, and she realized how silly she was being.
John handed her a handkerchief. She loved that about him, that he carried a real handkerchief.
When she turned to take it from him, she saw him texting on his phone. “Good grief. What now?”
He tapped a few more keys then turned his phone off. “We’ve got three days.”
“What?” She dabbed at her nose. “Don’t tell me: the Pack is on the brink of revolution. Three days until the biggest fur-flying series of fights Smithville has seen in decades.”
“Not at all. We’ve got three days to ourselves. Logan’s handling everything: your parents, Christmas celebrations, and our excuses. It’s all fine. We’ll celebrate Christmas privately—then again a few days later with the rest of the family.” John reached down and twined his warm fingers through Lizzie’s. “Sometimes, we get to be a priority.”
Lizzie snapped her mouth closed. “But…how…?” She tipped her head and examined him closely. “How in the hell did you manage that with a few texts?”
He raised his eyebrows but remained stubbornly silent.
“Right. Don’t care.” She raced up the steps, dragging a not-at-all-reluctant John behind her.
Their bags might have been rained on, they might not have had any clean clothes, and the fridge might have been bare—but those three days were priceless.
THE END
For the beginning of Lizzie and John’s adventures, pick up your copy of Lost Library today!