The Halloween Haunting: Vegan Vamp Mysteries, #5

By Cate Lawley

It's bingo night at the retirement center!

It sounds tame enough to Mallory, except that the residents of this particular community include a grandmotherly hacker, a retired witch, and, once upon a time, Mallory's Great-Auntie Lula. Visiting her dead relative's former abode brings back memories for Mallory, but it also rather unexpectedly brings back Great-Auntie Lula.

With her ghostly great-aunt's help, can Mallory and her crew discover who's burgled Bradley's condo, and why everyone involved with the break-in keeps dying?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cate Lawley
• Release date: Nov 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393453338

Book preview

Prologue

The Sleuthing Ninja Apprentice and the Hacker Grandma

Alittle history…

My buddy and supposed sleuthing apprentice Bradley had a way with computers. I don’t mean he could get rid of the blue screen of death, though he’d done that for me once and then promptly told me to enter this decade and buy a new computer.

Bradley’s skills far surpassed screen-of-death recovery. If there was a piece of information that existed in cyberspace, Bradley could find it. If it was a computer, he could fix it. If you wanted software, he could create it. At least, that was how it seemed to me. In my mind, Bradley had computer magic. In his mind, I was a sleuthing ninja. We might both have somewhat skewed perspectives of each other, but it worked for us.

While I didn’t actually understand what Bradley did on a day-to-day basis, I did know that he worked hard, had a fine eye for detail, and made many of his clients very happy. He also made some of his clients very rich. Bradley was practical and very good at keeping secrets, and his clients adored him.

Okay, that last part was a fib. But they really, really liked his work and paid him large sums of money to do…whatever it was he did.

When a client gave him a journal filled with descriptions of fantastic creatures—no vegan vampires, but basically everything else—Bradley tucked it away and used it just as he was instructed: as source material for his client’s application.

So, being the industrious soul that he is, Bradley started to work on the project. But then something odd happened. The client disappeared. Gone. In the wind. Being respectful of his client’s privacy and the bills being paid up to date, Bradley didn’t look for him.

With his client in the wind and no more payments coming in, practical Bradley stopped worked on the app (though it was almost complete) and secured the book in case his client requested its return at some future date. It was a unique item, with some parts appearing old and others very new, and scribbled in a variety of inks by a number of authors. He wasn’t sure of the value, which meant that it might possibly be worth a large sum.

Then Bradley met me (Mallory, a.k.a. the vegan vampire) and discovered that vampires were real. And if vampires, then why not wizards, assassins, thieves, witches, and all of the other magical creatures listed in his client’s book?

As Bradley’s circle of acquaintances grew, he began to make connections. The lovable and slightly squishy Wembley looked like the journal sketch of Einar, former Berserker Viking, current vampire, and my roommate. And then there was Alex, that handsome if grumpy partner of mine, who also made an appearance in the client’s book.

And Bradley quickly sussed out his problem: that book wasn’t fiction. It was a guide to the who’s who of the Austin enhanced community…Austin’s very secretive, very dangerous enhanced community.

The book was turned over to the Society, a confidentiality contract of the magical variety signed, and life continued uninterrupted for Bradley. Briefly.

Life interruptions happen—that’s how life works—but add magic to the mix and life becomes nothing but a series of interruptions. The calm and even flow of a regular schedule that was Bradley’s norm pre-me all but disappeared. And that calm was never more interrupted than the moment a burglar broke into Bradley’s condo.

Bradley and his mad computer skills would have been prodigiously applied to cracking the burglar’s identity but for his rather busy work schedule. And since clients pay him to meet insane deadlines, he decided to outsource this little piece of hackerish sleuthing. To Dot, the bingo-playing, dark-web-cruising hacker grandma.

1

FOMO of the Worst Kind

My ex-Berserker and all-vampire roommate had FOMO almost as badly as I did.

Surviving a fire? All in a day’s work. Smoke inhalation? No big deal. At least, that was what I’d decided when I weighed the day I’d had against missing out. I absolutely wanted to meet Bradley’s hacker grandma, and Wembley was equally intrigued. Granted, his day hadn’t been quite so bad as mine, but I suspected he’d be on board even if it had been.

That’s what FOMO—fear of missing out—did to otherwise rational people. It’s an affliction, one I was happy to share with my buddy. Alex, my sometimes partner, was a different story. He didn’t have FOMO. He had KMPA—keep my partner alive. Except that’s not really a thing. He just always has my back, so he wasn’t about to miss this outing.

None us wanted to miss our buddy Bradley’s scheduled appointment with his shady hacker contact, even if we were coming off a grand adventure involving flames, a few near-death experiences, and other dramatic events.

Dot preferred to work locally, lived in a retirement community, and had invited Bradley to bingo night for the info handoff. All intriguing choices in the context of shadowy information freelancing.

Alex, Wembley, and I took just enough time to shower off the stink of smoke that had permeated our hair and clothes and were ready to roll again. Not that Bradley appreciated our sacrifice.

It was possible he’d relented because I looked so pitiful that he couldn’t say no. Having big adventures was hard on a lady, especially if they included a near-death by immolation experience and losing a few cups of blood to a zombie girl.

Yeah, that also just happened. Fire, smoke, blood loss. It had been a big day, even by my very skewed vampy standards. I hadn’t even slept. Contrary to popular opinion—primarily Alex and Wembley’s—sleep was a requirement for me, not a luxury, and if it was eight hours, all the better.

But sleep or no sleep, I was ready to go. Ready to tackle the next big adventure. Ready for exciting—

Slow down with the coffee, Mallory. Alex retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to me. Just because caffeine doesn’t make you want to leap tall buildings, doesn’t mean you should drink an entire pot.

"Hey, that happened one time, Wembley grumbled. A guy thinks he can fly one time, and some people never let him forget it. Besides, she sees ghosts and hears colors when she over-imbibes. Like that’s normal."

Traitor. I stuck my tongue out at him. That was what happened when I spent too much time with my sentient sword Tangwystl. I started to pick up some of her more juvenile behaviors. Because I wasn’t immature all on my own…nope. At least I didn’t blow a raspberry. Tangwystl loved blowing raspberries.

Bradley watched the interplay between us with some concern. "Do you all have to go? he asked with a skeptical look. One person is backup. Three people is babysitting."

When had Bradley gotten so smart? People smart, anyway. He’d been a brain as long as I’d known him. Because it wasn’t just the grandma hacker we wanted to meet. I think we all wanted to keep a bit of an eye on Bradley. Who was I kidding? Mostly we wanted to meet hacker grandma.

No way I’m missing this, Wembley said.

If she’s going, I’m going, Alex said, indicating me with a nod. Maybe he was turning more into my partner-partner than my sometimes-partner.

Boone, the hundred-pound bloodhound who also shared my house, nudged my hand with his cold nose. I absently rubbed his silky red ears. "Boone’s staying home. So we’re not all going."

A quick examination of Boone’s eyes showed them to be less bloodshot than just an hour ago. He had more than a touch of magic, left over from a magical bond he’d had with his Djinn handler. Boone still mourned her loss. In his houndy head, her absence wasn’t improved by the fact that her killers had been brought to justice.

I’d been worried that without the bond, his magic would fade. But he still healed faster than a normal dog and still understood human speech, at least when he was around me.

Alex knelt next to Boone and examined his eyes. Then checked his gums. He seems just about back to normal.

Boone’s tail thumped vigorously in agreement. Apparently, smoke inhalation wasn’t enough to slow him down more than a few hours. Thank goodness. I thought at one point he wasn’t going to make it.

Boone sighed and wandered off to sleep—and drool—on either the guest bed or mine.

Your dog is smarter than you, Bradley said. He looked at us, in all our ragtag glory, and said, You should take the night off.

But then you wouldn’t have any backup for your big bingo adventure. Wembley waggled his full eyebrows. I almost missed the bushy version. He’d taken up with my mother recently and had assumed a more groomed appearance.

He’d also lost almost all of his paunch due to regular sword training sessions with Alex, something they’d done in the past but that Wembley had let slide in recent years.

I glanced at Alex, who was just finishing the last of an orange. I was pretty sure Alex could kick Wembley’s butt. Ex-Berserker Viking or not, Wembley didn’t have Alex’s dedication to training.

Wembley, do you have a secret passion for bingo? At his sheepish look, I added, My mother would not approve.

But he just shrugged. Maybe you don’t know your mom as well as you think you do.

Bradley sighed. It’s time to go.

While Alex washed his hands in the sink, he said, Any chance I can convince you to reschedule, Bradley? We’re all beat, but we don’t want you to go alone.

Bradley gave Alex a look that on anyone else would be mildly displeased, but in Bradley terms was appalled.

Right. Silly question, Alex said. Turning his attention to Wembley and me, he added, And you guys can’t be convinced to let Bradley handle this one alone.

Wembley and I shared a glance. I said, You’re kidding, right? And Wembley just shook his head at Alex’s silliness.

First, Bradley without backup just seemed wrong, even if he was meeting at a retirement center…and this was a regular contact…and he’d used this source before… Hm.

Okay, fine. Maybe Bradley didn’t really need backup, but Wembley and I refused to miss our chance to meet a dark-web cruising, retirement-home-living hacker grandma.

We were only human. Humanish. Enhanced people with human foibles.

Whatever. We had serious FOMO, and that was just the way we rolled.

2

Mountains, Molehills, and a Muscled, Manly Chest

My Grand Cherokee wasn’t back from its magical autopsy yet. I cringed to think about its poor magicked brakes. Long story short, Alex needed to date saner women. Or less jealous ones. Or ones who weren’t witches. Any of those things. Probably all of those things.

Wembley’s Vanagon still smelled like smoke from our earlier adventures, so we took Alex’s Tesla. If it weren’t for Mandy, one of the gals that manned Alex’s shop Bits, Baubles, and Toadstools, he would never be able to keep track of his cars, let alone keep them fueled or charged up. And the man owned a used car lot, so that was saying something for Mandy’s mad organizational skills.

Bradley claimed shotgun, which made Alex pause. No backseat driving.

Shotgun is the passenger seat, not the back seat, Bradley said in his usual details-are-everything way.

Alex squinted and pointed at him. I’m onto you, buddy. You know exactly what backseat driving is. No backseat driving.

And I thought Bradley almost smiled. I’d swear I saw his lips twitch. Bradley’s sense of humor was rarely seen, and it gave me a warm fuzzy to see it now, when he’d been having such a rough time. He lived his life according to specific rules, some provided by his former mentor Mrs. A, but most he’d created himself in order to better interact with a world he found frequently alien and sometimes upsetting.

So when his condo had been burgled recently, his scheduled, tidy life had been saturated with the chaos of change. Workmen in his home, a new security system, having to work anywhere but at his well-ordered desk—that was a lot for a guy like Bradley. He could move back into his condo once Alex okayed the security, but who knew when that was going to happen.

Bradley had found a place within our little group, which also gave me a case of the happies. I’d befriended him after Mrs. A was murdered, and he’d been both a good friend and a valuable asset. Bradley aspired to ninja sleuthing status, which he’d believed at one time that I’d achieved. I suspected our subsequent adventures had disabused him of the notion.

You’re staring, Bradley said. Mrs. A said eye contact is good but staring is bad.

Mrs. A was absolutely right, Bradley. I’m sorry.

He nodded, then retrieved a cloth shopping bag from the kitchen counter and headed out the door. That bag had been awfully full. There had to be more than cash inside it. What exactly had this Dot woman’s fee been?

My cell pinged with a text message, and I pulled it from my pocket. Gladys. A former client, but now—now I wasn’t sure how to define our relationship. She’d taken up with a vampire bigot, and his influence hadn’t been positive. I couldn’t believe that she was dating anyone, let alone Blaine Waldrup, Mr. Posh and Outdated himself.

Technically, Blaine was under consideration to assume the newly opened position of CEO of the Society. Seeing as how the Society for the Study of Paranormal and Occult Phenomena was the front for what was actually the governing body of the local enhanced community, I couldn’t let myself believe that the bigoted, narrow-minded twit would ever assume the position of CEO.

I almost didn’t read Gladys’s text, but an image of the gorgeous, statuesque redhead popped into my head and I cringed. She’d been a friend not so long ago, and she was a former client. I sighed and opened the text.

Halloween in a few days, fundraising party at my house. Can I count on your support?

Gladys had been intimately involved in the case I’d just wrapped up, the one that had involved a murdered succubus and a zombie vamp. If she had questions about that, I’d have understood. The zombie vamp had been her friend, after all. And it was Gladys who’d reported Bitsy, a.k.a. zombie vamp lady, missing and presumed dead.

But the fact that she was texting about a fundraising party made me question her priorities, not for the first time since she’d started dating the slimiest vamp in Austin. Her text was also oddly reminiscent of my socialite mother, a mental pairing that made me doubly uncomfortable.

Gladys and my mother—any vamp and my mother—didn’t need to share the same space in my head. Granted, with Wembley and my mom now dating, it was happening with increasing frequency. Wembley might be the exception to the rule, since vamps in general were an unsavory crowd—but he was still a bloodsucking vamp.

My stomach didn’t wobble at the thought of blood. Progress! Blood and I were definitely not friends, and we had a distressing history, what with me being a vamp and living with a vamp.

I glanced out the window to see how far we had until we reached the retirement center and realized we only had three or four minutes. Less time than I’d thought, but more than enough to answer that text. I should really reply.

But I didn’t. Her request for my presence, or my money, or even my support in general hit me the wrong way, and I’d had a rough day. Procrastination won again. Tomorrow was soon enough for a reply. I locked the screen and shoved the phone back in my pocket.

We arrived at the retirement center a few minutes later. It sat smack dab in the middle of a retirement community. One that was vaguely familiar.

Any sense of recognition fled as Alex parked near a tree and asked, What’s the plan?

Bradley frowned. You wait here, and I trade for the results.

We can’t provide very good backup if we wait in the car, I said. But mostly I was worried we’d miss meeting Dot, a.k.a. hacker grandma. I couldn’t say I had legit concerns about him attending a bingo game for seniors.

Bradley didn’t comment.

Can we come in if we’re unobtrusive? Alex asked.

Bradley looked at me.

What? I can be unobtrusive.

Wembley snorted.

Like I was somehow more obvious than two tall, built, hot men. It might make me cringe to admit that Wembley had become a hottie since dating my mom, but he kinda had.

I’ll be quiet as a mouse. Not possible, and Bradley was good at detecting lies and obfuscation. I leaned in between the front seats and tried again. I promise to do my best to be unobtrusive. Can we please come inside? I smiled at him. Please?

Fine, he said, but he didn’t look the least bit happy about it. I’ll go first. Dot usually sits in the back until I’m done.

Done? Done with what? But before I could ask, Wembley distracted me with a comment about the game’s location. Uh, Wembley? How do you know what room the game’s in?

He shrugged with an innocent look. So I happen to know there’s a regular bingo game here. A guy can’t have the 4-1-1 on his own city? He waggled his trimmed eyebrows. I even raided my cash stash in the kitchen.

Since when had bingo game locations become a part of Austin’s 4-1-1? And the only stash I knew about was stuffed with hundred-dollar bills. Wait. Your cash stash in the cookie jar?

He nodded.

Exactly how expensive was the buy-in for this seniors bingo game? Then I thought about a bunch of bored retirees all living in one place, and then the article on sex, drugs, rock ’n’ roll and seniors that I’d read recently. Hey, Alex, do you have any spare cash I can borrow?

He didn’t answer, just cocked an eyebrow at me then said, If you’re ready, Bradley?

Whatever. Not like I really needed to gamble with a bunch of boring old people.

Bradley replied to Alex, Give me a few minutes to get set up without you guys bothering me.

Alex nodded, and before I could ask what exactly Bradley was setting up for, he exited the car and closed the door behind him.

Alex turned around in his seat. This place is unsettled. The spirits aren’t happy, and there are ghosts trying to appear to the living.

Whoa. That came out of nowhere. I glanced in Wembley’s direction. Alex had recently let a few highly trusted people into the circle of knowledge about his secret, and Wembley was one of them. Even so, I wasn’t certain how comfortable Alex was with sharing spirit and ghostie info.

It’s fine, Mallory, Alex said. I just wanted you both to know. Just in case. It’s been a long day, and I’m a little tired.

And I was a complete idiot. I hadn’t thought about Alex’s particular condition when I’d insisted on tagging along. He wasn’t about to watch me waltz out the door on another adventure when I’d almost been burned alive a few hours ago. Partners had each other’s backs.

Alex did the right thing, just about always, even when it wasn’t the best thing for him. Endearing, yes, but also frustrating as heck. Especially now, because of Alex’s super-secret condition.

He’d bound himself to a variety of nasty critters: spirits, elementals, and demons. In exchange, he could communicate with them and had some influence over them…unless he was tired. Or sick or drunk or otherwise less than his normal superhuman, wizardly self. Weakened, he was vulnerable to those same creatures—possession vulnerable—and those nasties liked to joyride in flesh-and-blood bodies and do terrible things.

Yeah, binding himself to some evil nasties was a stupid thing to do, but he was a kid when he’d done it. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem the ties faded over time—even hundreds of years—and he was stuck with his youthful indiscretion.

And that was about all I knew. We’d never had a long sit-down about the particulars; he was a tiny bit touchy on the subject, seeing as how he’d broken some rules creating those bonds. Wait a second, ghosts? I said. You don’t usually see ghosts, do you?

Not unless they want to be seen, but they share space with some things that can see them—and don’t like the company.

Interesting. Ghosts had once been people, but those other things hadn’t. Maybe that created some kind of tension.

Wembley didn’t dither, just got down to business. Do we need to watch for anything in particular? Besides you getting, uh—he blinked at me—hijacked?

Alex’s eyes crinkled in that way he had of smiling without smiling. I’m not that tired, but good to know you’d notice if I was possessed.

That he could be amused was a little shocking. He’d always been so touchy about the bound creatures and especially about being possessed.

Diet, sleep, exercise, even sex—Alex was careful to meet all his physical needs, because he’d been possessed before and very bad things had happened. He was like the poster child for living a moderate life. I knew that, and I knew why (when I remembered). I was one of the few people familiar with the details of his murky past, which made forgetting all the worse.

We should have all gone home and let Bradley run his own secretive, marginally illegal errands. It was official. Tired Mallory did not make the best