Read Online Adventures of a Vegan Vamp: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery by Cate Lawley - Free Book Online
Authors: Cate Lawley
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phobia.”
“Not a phobia. A life choice.”
“It’s a life choice for you to avoid blood?” He walked to the door and opened it. “Come on. He won’t bite.”
“Ha-ha. So funny.” But it was just a little. And it got my feet moving.
I walked through the door and into another decade. I stumbled, caught my balance, and then stood still, blinking.
Oranges, pinks, and purples competed for dominance. The walls were a deep, rich shade of purple. The sofa was orange, with pink accent pillows. Candles of pink, purple, and orange abounded—but there were also blues and greens. A bright pink lava lamp, an orange beanbag chair, and purple bong complemented the decor. In the corner, all variety of colored beads hung from the ceiling, creating a curtain across the entryway into a small kitchen nook.
“Too much? It was my turn to decorate, and I couldn’t resist the urge to travel back in time.” A middle-aged, slightly paunchy, grey-bearded guy with longish hair and rose-tinted glasses spread his hands wide. “Jefferson Wembley, at your service.”
He didn’t offer his hand, so I followed his lead.
“Mallory Andrews.”
He indicated the sofa. “Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?” Before I could respond, Wembley turned to Alex. “Get lost, buddy. We’re going to talk about the Man, and I know how you get.”
Alex shook his head. “I need to do a little work, so you can catch me in my office when you’re done.”
After he left, I asked Wembley from the very deep seat of the sofa, “What exactly is it that he does?”
“He owns Bits, Baubles, and Toadstools.” At my confused look, Wembley said, “The shop out front.”
I rolled my eyes. Alex could have just said.
“He’s also one of the Society’s enforcers.”
I was still shaking my head at Alex’s annoyingly and unnecessarily secretive behavior when “enforcer” penetrated my brain. “I’m sorry—enforcer? I thought he was, like, the Society’s equivalent of a paramedic.”
Wembley’s eyes widened. “Sure. If you believe the man.” He dropped down onto the beanbag chair.
Wembley’s reasoning defied logic.
“Wembley—is that right? Or do you prefer Jefferson?”
“No one’s called me Jefferson since… I’m not actually sure that anyone has ever called me Jefferson. Wembley, please.”
“Right. Wembley. If by the man, you mean the Society, you do realize you’re chilling out in a lounge inside the Society’s headquarters?”
His shaggy eyebrows waggled, and he shifted forward in the beanbag chair. “You think it’s bugged?”
“No. I’m saying, for a guy who is against the man, you seem pretty comfortable in his lounge.”
Wembley chuckled. “L-e-m-a-n-n. Sounds a lot like ‘the man.’ He’s the CSO for the Society and who Alex reports to when he’s wearing his emergency response hat.”
“Emergency response? Oh…” I pulled Anton’s card out of my purse. Handing it to Wembley, I asked, “ER means emergency response?”
Wembley glanced at the front, flipped it to the back, then returned it. “That’s right. The number is answered by on-call staff. There are a handful of knights—enforcers—and the rest are administrative staff.”
“So what do these emergency response people do?” I didn’t get nearly the weird creepy vibe from “emergency response” that I did from “enforcer.”
“Ostensibly? They offer aid to the community when we can’t call the police.” Wembley squinted. “You do know we’re all hush-hush underground, right?”
“Yep. I got that. What do you think the ER folks do?”
“Well, with seven knights answering calls, I think it’s about cover-ups and cleanups—what else? Alex isn’t so bad, but knights are a sketchy bunch. All about swords and violence, retribution and order. That kind of thing.”
Something niggled in the back of my brain. “The hangings…”
“Hm. Yes. But you’re talking about lawful execution. I’m talking about what happens to those
“Not a phobia. A life choice.”
“It’s a life choice for you to avoid blood?” He walked to the door and opened it. “Come on. He won’t bite.”
“Ha-ha. So funny.” But it was just a little. And it got my feet moving.
I walked through the door and into another decade. I stumbled, caught my balance, and then stood still, blinking.
Oranges, pinks, and purples competed for dominance. The walls were a deep, rich shade of purple. The sofa was orange, with pink accent pillows. Candles of pink, purple, and orange abounded—but there were also blues and greens. A bright pink lava lamp, an orange beanbag chair, and purple bong complemented the decor. In the corner, all variety of colored beads hung from the ceiling, creating a curtain across the entryway into a small kitchen nook.
“Too much? It was my turn to decorate, and I couldn’t resist the urge to travel back in time.” A middle-aged, slightly paunchy, grey-bearded guy with longish hair and rose-tinted glasses spread his hands wide. “Jefferson Wembley, at your service.”
He didn’t offer his hand, so I followed his lead.
“Mallory Andrews.”
He indicated the sofa. “Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?” Before I could respond, Wembley turned to Alex. “Get lost, buddy. We’re going to talk about the Man, and I know how you get.”
Alex shook his head. “I need to do a little work, so you can catch me in my office when you’re done.”
After he left, I asked Wembley from the very deep seat of the sofa, “What exactly is it that he does?”
“He owns Bits, Baubles, and Toadstools.” At my confused look, Wembley said, “The shop out front.”
I rolled my eyes. Alex could have just said.
“He’s also one of the Society’s enforcers.”
I was still shaking my head at Alex’s annoyingly and unnecessarily secretive behavior when “enforcer” penetrated my brain. “I’m sorry—enforcer? I thought he was, like, the Society’s equivalent of a paramedic.”
Wembley’s eyes widened. “Sure. If you believe the man.” He dropped down onto the beanbag chair.
Wembley’s reasoning defied logic.
“Wembley—is that right? Or do you prefer Jefferson?”
“No one’s called me Jefferson since… I’m not actually sure that anyone has ever called me Jefferson. Wembley, please.”
“Right. Wembley. If by the man, you mean the Society, you do realize you’re chilling out in a lounge inside the Society’s headquarters?”
His shaggy eyebrows waggled, and he shifted forward in the beanbag chair. “You think it’s bugged?”
“No. I’m saying, for a guy who is against the man, you seem pretty comfortable in his lounge.”
Wembley chuckled. “L-e-m-a-n-n. Sounds a lot like ‘the man.’ He’s the CSO for the Society and who Alex reports to when he’s wearing his emergency response hat.”
“Emergency response? Oh…” I pulled Anton’s card out of my purse. Handing it to Wembley, I asked, “ER means emergency response?”
Wembley glanced at the front, flipped it to the back, then returned it. “That’s right. The number is answered by on-call staff. There are a handful of knights—enforcers—and the rest are administrative staff.”
“So what do these emergency response people do?” I didn’t get nearly the weird creepy vibe from “emergency response” that I did from “enforcer.”
“Ostensibly? They offer aid to the community when we can’t call the police.” Wembley squinted. “You do know we’re all hush-hush underground, right?”
“Yep. I got that. What do you think the ER folks do?”
“Well, with seven knights answering calls, I think it’s about cover-ups and cleanups—what else? Alex isn’t so bad, but knights are a sketchy bunch. All about swords and violence, retribution and order. That kind of thing.”
Something niggled in the back of my brain. “The hangings…”
“Hm. Yes. But you’re talking about lawful execution. I’m talking about what happens to those
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