My Sister Is A Werewolf

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“Ouch! Dammit.”

Elizabeth threw down her tweezers, blinking away the sudden blur of tears. Gradually both the pain and the blurry vision subsided, leaving her glaring at her reflection.

She swiped at her eyes and reached for the discarded tweezers. Then she changed her mind, leaving them where they’d landed in the sink. It wasn’t as if getting her already well-groomed eyebrows further tamed was going to calm the restlessness building inside her. At least it hadn’t worked thus far.

Edginess, as if she’d drunk about three pots of coffee in a three-hour span, wracked her body. She wanted to crawl out of her own skin. That particular feeling was usually reserved for the full moon, and she knew that auspicious time of the month was still days away.

She wandered out of her bathroom, roaming from room to room in the sprawling house. The old farmhouse she was renting was just the type of place where she’d always wanted to live. Bedrooms nestled under the eaves, a wraparound porch with a swing, a huge country kitchen. Woods, mountains. The place was perfect. So why couldn’t she cast off the feeling that something wasn’t right, that something was about to happen?

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