Adventures of a Vegan Vamp: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery (16 page)

“And what about you and that thing clinging to you?”

“Gone. I just needed a little sleep.”

The futon in his office, the healthy food in his fridge, leaving half a glass of perfectly good scotch… “Good grief. You probably don’t smoke, jog every day, and take vitamins.”

“If it keeps them off my back—literally—that’s right.”

“Wild guess: not all wizards have this particular issue.” I flashed back to the image from yesterday. That thing was definitely whispering in Alex’s ear.

“No.”

I crooked my pinky and offered it. “Pinky swear?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Since the only secret I’ve ever pinky sworn on is still safe twenty years after the fact, no, I’m not kidding.”

He squeezed his eyes shut with a pained look. But when he opened them, he hooked his pinky with mine.

I nodded grimly. “Pinky swear, I won’t tell yours, if you don’t tell mine.”

Alex sighed. “Pinky swear.”

Little blue-green sparks flew as soon as Alex said “swear.”

I yanked my hand back. “Whoa—what did you do?”

“Not me.”

The front door opened. Wembley was home.

“
W
e’ve got a window patch
.” Wembley made the announcement as he came through the front door. When no one applauded, he sighed. “Well, I was excited about it.”

I stood up, stretched, and headed for the kitchen. “I don’t suppose either of you know what I did with that check last night?”

Alex and Wembley followed me. Alex pulled out his wallet and extracted a check. Handing it to me, he said, “Since you weren’t quite yourself last night.”

“Very appreciated.”

Wembley sat down at the breakfast table. “I’ve already eaten—you’re welcome—but I can keep you company while you empty my fridge of all consumable liquids.”

“Minus milk and eggs,” I said with a moue of distaste, looking at the contents of the fridge. “And I used to like eggnog so much.”

“And no steak,” Wembley said.

Alex peered over my shoulder. “Since when is steak a liquid?”

“Since Wembley’s amazing food processor can liquefy it.”

“Why…? No. Just no.” Alex pulled a small bottle of kefir out of the fridge. “Since you can’t drink it. Thanks.”

I hunted till I found the carton of carrot juice and started to chug it. About a quarter of the way through, I thought about taking a breath, then chugged another quarter. I took a gasping breath and asked, “What exactly is a window patch? Sounds kinda fancy.”

“Hm. Plywood,” Wembley said. “The guys are installing it now.”

In the background, I could hear the rhythmic thud of hammers. I’d just been tuning it out.

A ringtone that might have been my mother’s special, preprogrammed tone jingled in the background.

“Ugh. That’s got to be mine. Any clues where my cell landed? My mother probably thinks I’m dead.”

Wembley handed my phone to me, mouthing something.

I held my finger up. “Hi, Mother.” Then I pointed to the back door, and Wembley nodded.

“Sorry. I just have to run outside.”

“Outside—why are you not at work?”

I’d forgotten—she had no idea I’d quit my job. I looked up at the brilliantly blue sky. Too bad I wasn’t religious, because now would be the perfect moment to pray to God for patience.

“So, Mother, a little change…I’ve given notice at work.”

“Given notice—you quit?” She sounded befuddled more than upset.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad…

“You lose your job—”

“I quit. That’s not losing a job; that’s walking away.” I sat down in one of Wembley’s incredibly comfortable lawn chairs. Why had the guys mentioned steak? Now I was dying for a cheeseburger. Except not really, because I would just puke it right back up. My stomach lingered on the memory of meat even though the reality made it unhappy—it was a weird feeling. And I guessed that aversion therapy hadn’t helped for very long after all.

“And what about your beautiful apartment? Did you quit it, too? Mrs. Franklin lives in your building. She heard you were moving out.”

“Did Mrs. Franklin mention anything else?” I squinted up at the tree shading the yard. But for the potential for bird droppings, a perfectly shady spot for some more lawn furniture.

“No. Should she have?”

“No, not at all,” I replied, trying to hide my relief. I crossed my fingers. “I think I might have found a new place in southeast Austin.” I’d be having a look at Wembley’s other place soon, I was sure. And I had a good feeling about it.

But I couldn’t help but be glad I’d dodged explaining anything to do with Mrs. A’s death. The official story had shifted but was still unpalatable. No longer an accidental overdose or suicide, now there were rumors of a suspicious death. I doubted someone had realized Mrs. A would never kill herself or do anything by accident, so the police must have found some evidence of foul play. Good luck finding the killer, coppers. At least I knew the truth. Nuts. Bradley. I’d have to text him; seemed better than calling—

My mom raised her voice. “Are you even listening?”

Oops. I’d kinda tuned her out there for a bit. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Mother let out an exasperated sigh. “The job, the apartment, the car… Sweetheart, are you sure you’re all right?”

I sat up straighter. Was I all right? Only a few weeks ago, I’d never have made the huge, life-altering choices I was making now. But I was happy.

“What would you say if I told you I’d never felt like this before? I think I’m really happy.” My stomach cramped. Starving, yes—but I’d nabbed a killer. My life was in complete chaos, sure—and yet I
was
happy. “I have to go, Mother. I need to grab a snack before my stomach eats itself—but I promise you, I really am okay.”

Mom sniffed. Was she crying?

“That’s all I ever wanted for you, sweetheart. But the suburbs…” My mother’s voice firmed. “But if the suburbs make you happy, then you go live in the suburbs.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell Mom that southeast Austin wasn’t exactly the suburbs. Not when she was trying so hard to accept the new and strange woman I’d become. Besides, anything outside the heart of downtown probably was the ’burbs as far as Mom was concerned.

“Thanks, Mother.”

“Oh, and tell your friend I look forward to seeing him tomorrow. Bye-bye now.” And she hung up.

My friend? I stared at the phone.

Wembley.

I headed back inside, wavering between amused and terrified.

“Wembley?”

“Don’t look,” Wembley called from the kitchen. “Hide your eyes. Just having a quick snack.”

My nose picked up on the smell before he’d said “snack.”

“Right—I can smell it.” I pinched my nose. At least I wasn’t about to ralph. That was an improvement. “My mother, Wembley?”

“Ah. I did try to mention it. I answered your phone earlier this morning. When you were still passed out from your coffee hangover. She called twice. Any mother who calls twice…well, it was that or wake you up.” Water ran in the sink, and then he called out, “All clear.”

I unplugged my nose and sniffed cautiously. Barely any odor at all. I joined him in the kitchen. “How do you go from answering my phone to attending a luncheon as her date?” Because their little “date” had to be that luncheon she’d invited me to last week. “Any thoughts about the whole eating solids thing?”

“No problem.”

I rolled my eyes. My mother and Wembley hanging out was definitely a problem waiting to happen. “Where’s Alex?”

“He’s on call today. Lemann brought him in to deal with another potential Bart victim.”

“What? Without me?” A nasty thought occurred. “Ugh. He’s not the axman, is he?”

Wembley shrugged. “I didn’t ask for details.”

“So not good.” I pulled up Alex’s number. Tucking the phone under my chin, I asked Wembley, “Where’s my bag? I need to change—pronto.”

He nodded and disappeared.

Alex picked up on the first ring. “I was just about to call you.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you were.” I nodded my thanks to Wembley as he handed me my bag. “Where are you?” I made a circle with my finger, and Wembley turned his back.

“I’m over at headquarters.”

I pulled off my nightgown. “Got it. There in five.”

“Wait—”

I hung up before he could tell me not to come. Who knew what state that poor woman was in? And the Society, with their Inquisition and their lickety-split executions—not good.

I yanked on clothes as fast as I could. Once decently clothed, I said, “I’m good, Wembley. You can turn around. Where are my keys?”

He handed them to me.

I kissed his cheek. “You’re a doll. I’ll call with an update.”

“Shoes?”

Nuts. I’d just about left barefoot. I hunted around for my All Stars and finally found them under the couch. Socks were a lost cause. I tucked them under my arm and hotfooted it to the front door.

“Wait!” Wembley called from the kitchen.

“In a rush—”

“I know, I know.” Wembley appeared, a bottle of spicy vegetable juice in hand.

“Ha! Perfect.” I grabbed the bottle. “Toodles.”

I drove to headquarters barefoot, chugging my tangy-awesome juice the whole way. Something about the spicy-salty combo made it a little more satisfying than other drinks. I probably needed to pursue the salt angle a little deeper.

I zipped into the Society’s parking lot and parked next to Alex’s black Honda.

As I weighed faster and barefoot against the need for footwear, I heard a woman scream, “Noooooo!”

Decision made, I tucked my shoes back under my arm and flat-out ran to the front door. When I arrived, the front door was locked—I needed a dang key for this place.

I thudded the tinted glass door with my open palm. When that didn’t work, I made a fist and thumped harder.

“Coming.” Alex’s voice had an edge to it.

He opened the front door with a look of relief. “Thank God. Get in here.” He yanked me inside by my forearm and locked the door behind me. “I’ve already sent the staff home, but this…this I cannot handle.”

And then I heard it—a woman saying, “No, no, no, no.”

Alex propelled me further into the store and then pointed two aisles ahead. “Whatever you can do…”

He ran a hand through his hair.

I tiptoed toward the aisle in question, unsure what horror had stumped Alex, former knight and enforcer and on-call emergency responder.

Nuts. I’d forgotten Tangwystl. I was pretty sure I’d left her in Wembley’s spare room…

I turned the corner of the aisle.

A
terry cloth
robe and bunny slippers.

That was what I noticed first. Next came the flame-haired woman wearing them. And then—hard to believe this wasn’t the first thing I registered—the gooey red-colored corn syrup that covered her.

She was huddled on the floor directly in front of the fake blood display.

Very real fangs protruded from her mouth. Not so small as mine, but smaller than Wembley’s. Not a baby vamp—maybe just a hungry one?

In a disappointed, the-world-had-just-crumbled-under-her-feet voice, she said, “It’s just syrup.”

I sighed. Probably very hungry.

My phone beeped with a text from Alex:
Hates men.

Aha.

“Would you like some blood?”

With sad puppy-dog eyes, she blinked and nodded.

“All right, then, let’s get you some, shall we?”

She perked up, and her fangs extended further. Yikes. About the same as Wembley’s, but I’d never seen the actual descent or retraction happen. They just seemed to be there—or not. Moving fangs were super freaky.

I smiled. It was harder to look scared when you smiled. And those fangs were creeping me out.

“I don’t haaf to bite anything?” She certainly managed to speak with those monster serpent fangs better than I could.

“No. No biting. There’s a fridge out back.”

She melted in relief. And what she meant by biting “anything,” I didn’t really want to know. Could vamps survive on non-human blood? Another factoid to pursue that had absolutely nothing to do with my own vampire experience.

I reached a hand out to help her up. “What’s your name?”

“Gladys.” She leveraged herself to a standing position using my hand for balance.

And it was like a Liz flashback: gorgeous cheekbones, long legs, and all. Except for the clothes. Liz had fabulous taste in clothes.

“How exactly did you get here?”

She angled her head. “My car.”

“And you found the Society how?”

She looked at me like I’d gone mad. “The internet?”

Right—why not? Bits, Baubles, and Toadstools definitely had a website.

“Excellent. Well, let’s you get you a snack.” She blinked sad eyes at me, and I immediately corrected myself. “A very large meal. We’ll get you sorted.”

I bade a fond farewell to my clothes, and then put an arm around her very red, very sticky shoulders.

We left the aisle for the main area of the store to find Alex patiently waiting to escort us to the blood supply in the back of the warehouse.

She jerked and squealed like a stuck pig.

I hugged her with one arm and waved him away with the other.

The moment he disappeared, she fell silent. My ears might not forgive Alex that little misstep.

“I’ll just unlock the door and prop it open, shall I?” His voice carried over the aisle shelving, but was muffled.

I herded Gladys out of sight down another aisle. “All right.”

“Go ahead,” Alex said.

Arm around her shoulders, I walked Gladys through the “Employees Only” door to the back of the warehouse. I propped her against the hall wall and said, “Stay. Don’t move. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

And then I slipped back into the retail area. “Alex? Where are you?”

He appeared from behind the register. “Hiding.” He had the grace to look just a little embarrassed.

“Text me directions to the blood stash.” When he raised his eyebrows, I wrinkled my nose at him and said, “I’ll be fine. Oh, and clear the hallways. Please.”

He snorted. “Done five minutes ago. My ears are still ringing.”

“What happened with the salesgirl? She’s human, right?”

“Actually, no. But she called when a lady in a house robe, slippers, and nothing else appeared in the store. I sent her for a long lunch and told her to call before she comes back in.” Alex ran his hand through his already very rumpled hair. “She remembers some things. I think. It’s hard to say—but sedatives can be tricky. I think, unlike you, she knows something about what happened to her.”

“Well, that just sucks for her. I’ll do what I can to sort her out.” A thought occurred. A brilliant thought: I might have found my calling. I grinned at him.

“What? That look cannot be good.”

“Just call me the
after
-life coach.” I crossed my arms. “The Society will be receiving my bill for services rendered. And tell Cornelius that if he doesn’t pay up promptly, I won’t help the next time you have a fake-blood-soaked vampire damsel in distress.”

A total lie, but I was technically unemployed, and a girl had to get her pennies where she could. And I liked the idea. After-life coaching seemed like something I might take to. I’d been managing my own transition rather fabulously, and had come out smelling like a bouquet of fresh flowers, if I did say so myself.

“I need to get back to Gladys.”

“Gladys, huh?” He laughed. “Well, at least you got a name out of her. Work on a last name, if you don’t mind.”

“Will do.” I hustled back to the “Employees Only” door, turning to shoo Alex out of sight before I opened it. Couldn’t have my new client melting eardrums or wandering the halls in her bunny slippers.