Page 36 of Shadow Seeking

“Sure thing,” Sophia said. “I’ve got time this afternoon.”

“Is Orik back from the Supe Community Action Council meeting yet?”

She shook her head. “He texted that traffic’s nuts—there were several accidents thanks to the heavy rain, and he’s not going to be back at the office until after five.”

I glanced at the clock. “Well, text him back, tell him that if he wants to go directly home, that’s fine. He can fill us in tomorrow morning.” I turned to Dante. “So, I guess we catch up on paperwork for now.”

We got to work, crossing Alf off our list of to-do’s, for the rest of the afternoon.

“I’ll meet you back here at 8:30,” I said. “Text Orik to remind him that we’re due at the Green Goblin tonight.”

“Sure thing,” Dante said, waving as he headed out the door.

As I headedhome to change, I decided that I didn’t feel like cooking, so I decided to stop off at Champs, a bluesy bar and grill run by a Cedric, a kobold—a northern European form of goblin. They were handy and had good business sense. They were also grumpy and canny as flint, but they took pride in their work. They never diluted the liquor, or served bad food. And I’d need food before hitting the Underground. We needed to be clear headed, and hunger impeded brainpower.

I sat down at the bar, given all the booths were full. A rough looking kobold pulled out an order pad. “What’ll you have?”

I glanced at the menu, then put it back. “Clam chowder, cheesy bread, and coffee with cream.”

“Sure thing. New England or Manhattan chowder?”

“New England.”

Cedric scribbled on the pad and then tore off the slip and slapped it up on the order wheel, in a distinctly old-fashioned sort of way. Then, he poured me a cup of coffee and set it in front of me, along with a little bowl of creamers.

“Thanks, Cedric,” I said. I had been in Champs often enough that he knew me by sight.

“No problem,” he said, giving me a grudging smile. “Wet enough out there for you?”

“Eh, I like the rain, but yes, we’re on our way to winter. So, how’s business going?”

Cedric gave me a half-assed shrug. “So-so. A new restaurant went in down the street, and they’re taking some of my clientele. They’re a chain, so people trust them better.”

I glanced around. The food was good, but the place looked like a dive. “Um, Cedric, can I make a suggestion?”

He threw the bar towel over his shoulder and leaned against the bar. He was standing on a custom step he’d had built behind the bar, given kobolds were shorter than most humans. “Sure, what the hell. Hit me with it.”

“If you want to attract more customers, you might want to spruce up the décor,” I said. “I’ve been coming here for a long time, but let’s face it. The place could use a good paint job, inside and out, and the upholstery on the booths is threadbare, along with the carpet.”

He stared at me for a moment, then sighed. “I know, I know. It pisses me off. We’re clean. We have good food. It shouldn’t matter.”

“Ambience matters, Cedric. I come here because I love your food, and I’ve got a thing for dark dives. But…you want more customers? Jack up the place.” I unfurled my napkin as he set a large bowl of chowder in front of me, along with a plate of cheesy French bread. I waved off the crackers—I hated mushy bread of any kind—and spooned up a mouthful of the soup.

“Good,” I mumbled, biting into the bread. “You make good food.”

“Well, good. Holler if you want more,” Cedric said. “And as to your suggestion, I’ll think about it.” He moved down the bar to take orders from a couple of city workers still wearing their vests who looked like they’d had a long, cold day out in the rain.

I finished my chowder and bread, and asked for a refill on the soup. After I was done, I felt ready to take on the rain-soaked evening and head home. I tossed a twenty on the table—enough for the food and a tip—and waved at Cedric, who was busy making drinks for a couple customers. He waved back.

It was dark and drizzly as I headed out to my car. The diner had been full when I went in, and the lot had been packed. I’d managed to find a parking spot near the end, on the far side from the street. As I walked briskly toward my car, I becameaware of someone following me. Goosebumps rose on my arms, and my skin prickled.

I looked around, but there was no one in sight. Still, I kept my senses on alert. I’d learned the hard way to pay attention to them.

As I reached the dumpsters that were near the far end of the parking lot, I shivered. I could feel someone following me—I could almost hear their steps. I didn’t want to alert whoever it was though, and if it was someone headed to their own car, I didn’t want to frighten them. As I passed the last dumpster, I darted to the side and listened.

There—two footsteps. Then, silence. I quickly bent to retrieve the short dagger that was in my boot sheath, and waited.

The next moment, a figure appeared directly in front of me, cloaked in shadow and difficult to make out.

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