Adventures of a Vegan Vamp: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery

I
died a little
. I wish I could say it was a blur—but it’s a blank. A mystery. I was an anxiety-ridden, overachieving, successful professional—and human. I definitely started this story very human. But now I’m none of those things.

This story is about the murder of that woman and catching the man who killed her. It’s also about how I became a vampire—and also a little about how becoming a vampire was the best thing that could have happened to me.

“
M
allory
, darling, you’re buying tonight, aren’t you?” Sleek red hair, high cheekbones, and long legs made longer by her impossible heels. My skin itched with jealous annoyance just looking at her.

“Sure,” I said, even though I knew Liz would ditch her usual drink for a premium. The gang invited me when they wanted free drinks, because I picked up the tab every other time I tagged along. At least, that was my suspicion. I made more money than the rest of them, and they knew it. That created tension. But was it my fault they couldn’t negotiate their salary better? I handed the bartender my debit card and pointed to the four people sitting to my right, indicating I’d be paying for their round.

The guy was kind of cute in a tight-T-shirt, skinny-jeans, bearded-hipster way, but he didn’t make eye contact. He grabbed my card, swiped it to open my tab, and handed it back to me. He didn’t even look up when I gave him my drink order: a white wine spritzer. I might not be five foot nine with killer cheekbones and a glamorous sense of style—but not all of his patrons could look like Liz.

At least he was fast. My drink arrived—after Liz’s, Shelley’s, Martin’s, and Penelope’s—but still pretty quickly. I tried not to sigh. My suit was expensive and well tailored, my makeup reasonably fresh, and I was having a good hair day. And—the most important factor—
I was picking up the tab
. So what was it that made people like the hipster bartender slip right over me as if I didn’t exist?

Or like I smelled really bad? I discreetly sniffed. No. My supercharged twenty-four-hour antiperspirant was doing its job. He was just a jerk with a brain that worked significantly less than his biceps—or some other part of his anatomy.

Liz turned to include me in the conversation, so I inched closer. It had to be work related.

Penelope had a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “I was just saying, our new boss plans to fire two people from our division. I heard from a
very
reliable source. And you know how much they like to clean out inflated salaries whenever the opportunity arises.”

My lips curved slightly. “Or those with the lowest reviews.”

Penelope’s nostrils flared. The spiteful heat of her stare bounced off me with no effect. Again, not my fault that she spent as much time on social media as she did with her clients.

“Still, when looking at tightening up the budget, it makes sense that bloated salaries would be targeted.” Martin looked at me with a certain glee that made him appear, just for a moment, as vicious as he actually was.

Martin was not someone I envisioned as having a mother. Hatched, maybe, but not born. A half-swallowed chuckle almost gagged me, but I managed to keep white wine spritzer from spurting out my nose—barely. The image of Martin emerging fully formed, more reptile than mammal, from the remains of an eggshell was impossible to erase. I tried not to snigger. He was such a loathsome being that I couldn’t help but cling to that image as my own private revenge. I would never forget the opportunities he’d stolen from me, the rumors he’d spread, the trouble he’d stirred up with clients. I’d overcome the obstacles he’d thrown in my path, time after time, but he’d made my life—my success at work—much more difficult.

Martin glared, as if he could see the image I’d conjured. “Really, Mallory. No one will be surprised if they fire you. Your interpersonal skills are somewhat lacking—as I’m sure more than one supervisor has told you. You’re not exactly popular with the clients.”

Which wasn’t exactly true. I was quite good at my job, and I may not always make the best first impression—helped along by a quiet word or two whispered by Martin—but when it came down to getting work done well, my clients knew I was reliable. And organized. Efficient, overachieving, hardworking…the adjectives had a sameness, and therein was a glimmer as to why everyone despised me. I was better at my job, and not particularly likable. At least I was self-aware enough to realize it. Changing it? That was simply a step too far. I am what I am.

I understood all of this, but why people felt the need to blame me for their failings, I would never know. How Penelope’s Facebook addiction, Liz’s penchant for sleeping with married coworkers, and Martin’s general sliminess—all factors that had impeded their careers—were any fault of mine, I would never understand. My eyes passed over Shelley. At least Shelley was okay. She’d never been blatantly spiteful like the others in my division, but she was hardly warm.

I closed my eyes and imagined I was at home in my apartment. A restful space away from these people. It was exhausting being the person everyone blamed and no one liked. No more. I didn’t need the hassle. Fitting in wasn’t worth it—especially when there was zero chance I’d ever actually be accepted. When I opened my eyes, a second wine spritzer was in front of me. I tried to catch the bartender’s gaze to thank him, but he’d already moved on to another blonde, beautiful customer.

I drained my first drink and quickly started in on the second. As soon as I finished it, I was headed home. Thankfully, my apartment was within walking distance, so I could chug that spritzer with a clear conscience.