Luke, the quiet poet who has won Elizabeth's heart, has armed the twins with anti-werewolf potions and amulets.
In fact, the funniest part of the book are how terribly, terribly badly the author writes about England. She (or he; it's credited of course to 'Kate William', but Lord knows how many poor souls have laboured under that moniker) seems to be convinced that all of British society is centred around the aristocracy, who seem to possess roughly the same power and social influence that they did in the 18th century. Practically every person the twins meet has a title, and if they don't, they're delightful Liverpudlians who speak "with an accent reminiscent of the Beatles".
Jessica, of course, falls in love with a young aristocrat. Now, I am no expert on the peerage, and wouldn't want to be, but I am perfectly sure that a Lord's son is not called "Lord [Whatever], Junior". I don't know why it's so funny, but it really is. "Why, here comes Lord Pembroke, Junior, now," said Lady Pembroke in her refined accent. "Welcome, dear boy," said Lord Pembroke Senior. (Lord Pembroke Junior went to 'Eaton' [sic], a place to which he keeps refering every two pages until the wrong spelling starts leaping from the apge. I mean, come on, how long does it take to look up simple spelling? It's kind of a famous school.)
Oh, and need I say that of course all the English characters refer to Autumn as 'Fall' and say "I guess" all the time? Of course I needn't.
Anyway, it is all very, very funny. It is funnier than From Here to Sweet Valley could ever be, which depresses me somewhat. But I'm still enjoying it far too much to stop....