Adventures of a Vegan Vamp: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery Read Online Free

what your symptoms are, and—no promises—maybe we can fit you in on Monday or Tuesday.”
    That was the best offer I’d had so far.
    “Rapid weight loss, persistent and unquenchable thirst, aching muscles—though that’s gone now—and long periods of sleep. Oh—and I can’t seem to keep food down.” I reviewed my mental symptom checklist. “I think that’s it.”
    “All right. I’ll check in with the doctor, but she’s quite busy today. We may not be back in touch until Monday. And if at any time you feel like there’s an emergency, you should seek help from an urgent care facility or the emergency room.”
    “Yes, I understand that.” I mentally shrugged as I gave her my contact details. Losing twenty-five pounds in days was likely a really big emergency—but I was mobile and staying hydrated. And I really, really didn’t want to go to the ER. What would the ER do for me besides send me a massive bill? I was walking and talking and had no pain.
    I was scrolling through alternative choices online, holding on to the ridiculous hope someone would see me before Monday, when my phone rang.
    As I tapped accept, I realized it was the number for the alternative medicine clinic. “Hello?”
    “This is Dr. Dobrescu. Is this Mallory Andrews?”
    It hadn’t even been five minutes, so the doctor obviously wasn’t that busy.
    “Yes, that’s me. Do you think you might get me in?”
    “When did your symptoms start?” Brisk and businesslike, Dr. Dobrescu wasn’t messing about.
    “Maybe Tuesday? As I told your receptionist, I’ve been sleeping quite a bit, so I can’t say exactly.”
    “Are you missing any time?”
    “I’m not sure what—” I suddenly realized I had no idea how I got home from the bar. Two white wine spritzers wouldn’t have that effect. “Ah, maybe.”
    Silence followed.
    I checked to see that I hadn’t accidentally ended the call, but it was still live on my end. “Dr. Dobrescu?”
    “As soon as you can, come in.”
    “I’m sorry?”
    “We’ll fit you in. When can we expect you?”
    The clinic had gone from “maybe Monday or Tuesday” to “come in now” in the space of minutes, and I hadn’t even mentioned exactly how much weight I’d lost. I didn’t think my symptoms were that specific—at least not according to Google. But given my situation, especially the part where I needed to show up at work on Monday to keep my job, I could hardly be choosy. “I can be there in forty-five minutes.”
    “We’ll be ready for you.”
    I ended the call and then found myself staring at the phone. We’ll be ready for you. The call had been just a little bit off. Or my imagination had run wild. Probably the latter given my less-than-stellar reasoning skills on an empty stomach.
    Rooting around in my closet finally produced an old tennis skirt that almost fit and an only slightly oversized T-shirt. I skipped my usual shower, because I was on a tight timeline. I felt like a narcoleptic time bomb.
    As I zipped along in my flashy red Audi TT, two things bothered me. I’d never thought my car was flashy before today, and I was less comfortable driving a new sports car than I was with the sad state of my attire. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in public looking quite so rumpled. But the normal anxiety—that “what would people think” feeling that I normally suffered—simply wasn’t there. It was liberating.
    The office wasn’t at all what I expected; it looked like any other doctor’s office. The only thing different from my regular, cranky-old-man doctor’s office was the speed with which the staff ushered me into an exam room. I typically waited fifteen to thirty minutes at a minimum. And it wasn’t as if the practice wasn’t busy. The receptionist hadn’t exaggerated. I’d parked across the street because the office’s lot had been full.
    I sat down on the edge of the examining table and watched in surprise as the nurse or assistant—I wasn’t sure which,