Page 19 of Shadow Scorching

Shy is considered highly charismatic, especially for a coyote shifter, and while he claims to be middle age, at the time of this writing we have been unable to uncover any record of his birth. He’s a striking man, handsome and charismatic, but we recommend doing business with him at your own risk.

I sighed. “Well, so far, things aren’t looking good. Let’s check another.” I scanned through the links, many of which werelinked to various websites belonging to his various enterprises. Finally, I caught sight of an entry from a blog. “Here, this one—Lena’s Bouillon Blog.”

“What is it?” Dante asked, squinting at the screen.

“Looks like a cooking blog.” I clicked on it. “Actually, it’s a restaurant review and lifestyle blog, along with a first-person diary. The blogger is named Lena Skullpepper. She’s a skunk shifter, it says here. And Jet’s name came up in a blog from last year.”

Last night I had the worst date of my life. Yeah, yeah, I know this is a food blog, but you know that I also talk about my dates, and I review local restaurants. Seriously, I’ve met so many pathetic men that I don’t know if I want to continue dating.

I laughed. “Sounds like you,” I joked, poking Dante in the arm.

“Hey, I resent that,” he said, but he laughed. “Read on.”

I scanned the next paragraph, then began to read aloud.

So, I met this guy in the San Palero Bar & Grill. I decided to treat myself to a good dinner, and I stopped in at the bar before going into the dining room. They have the best mixologist there, and I highly recommend their bar for a girls’ night out, or any gathering. So, I sat down at the counter and ordered a Black Manhattan. I thought it would go well with a good, robust steak. I was relaxing, minding my own business when this gorgeous specimen of a man sat down beside me. He was dark, with broody eyes and hairslicked back like the old school playboys. He was Chinese, I thought, and he seemed to have a suave, smooth way to him.

I wasn’t looking for a date, though, so I turned toward the bar and stared at the bottles on the back of the wall. At first, I thought he was trying to be pleasant. Now, I’m thinking he didn’t like being ignored.

He didn’t drop stupid lines, but said, “So, are you dining alone tonight?”

I normally don’t respond to pickup lines when I’m on a me-time night, but his voice was low and sultry, without being suggestive. I told him I was there alone, yes, that I just wanted a good dinner. He asked me to join him and, for some reason, I agreed to have dinner with him.

Once we were at our table, the first thing he did that annoyed me was to try to order for me. He told the waiter I’d have a salad and a petite filet. I immediately countered that and told the waiter that I wanted a twelve-ounce ribeye, along with steak fries, and I wanted calamari for an appetizer.

That’s when I quickly realized that I made a mistake in accepting his invitation. He checked his phone and, with a startled look, said he had to make a call. He stepped away, and I didn’t expect him to return. But he surprised me by returning after about five minutes. He told me that his accountant had contacted him to warn him that the government in Singapore froze his accounts. He said that he couldn’t do anything till the next day, then said he didn’t have enough to pay for our dinner.

He was so apologetic about it that I almost bought his whole song and dance.

That is, until I asked him why his accounts had been frozen. When he told me that the Singapore mob had put out a hit on him because he had turned one of their members into the police, and that the mob—who apparently controls the bank—had frozen his accounts, it sounded ridiculous.Something set off alarm bells and I couldn’t shake the feeling I was getting scammed.

I told him not to worry, that I’d buy my own dinner and that I decided I wanted to eat alone after all. He called me a “stingy bitch” and threw his napkin on the table. I told him to fuck off, and he stomped out. I feel that I lucked out.

Anyway, other than Jet, I had a wonderful dinner. The ribeye was cooked to perfection, the calamari was crisp, with the perfect balance of breading and seasoning, and the steak fries were seasoned well, crispy, and hot. The price was a little high, but I don’t think it would have mattered to me if I hadn’t been dealing with the lame-assed mooch. And that, well, that wasn’t their fault.

I glanced over at Dante. “Well, he has a history of telling that same story.”

“When was it posted?”

I glanced at the date. “Two weeks. So, he’s definitely hunting for marks. What do you think Tilly would say if she read this?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “You know he’d probably find some way to explain it away. As to whether she’d believe him, I can’t tell. One thing I don’t want to do is to keep prodding her until we have enough evidence to prove our point. She might stop listening to us if we bombard her.”

“Good thought,” I said. “Well, I’ll send you these links, and we can investigate it later. We might want to get someone involved. There are companies who do investigations into scammers, aren’t there? Should we consult with one of them?”

“That’s a thought.” Dante glanced at the clock. It was nearly eleven. “We should have something quick to eat before we go over to Michael’s. Chances are we’ll need the grounding. Sophia, too.”

I pinged Sophia on the intercom and asked her to meet us in the breakroom. Once there, I peeked in the fridge. We tried to keep it stocked with fixings for sandwiches, in case we needed something quick, as well as chips and boxed cookies in the cupboard, canned soups, and toaster pastries. I pulled out a couple cans of clam chowder.

“Clam chowder and toast okay?”

“Sure.” Dante opened the lower cupboard next to the sink and brought out a soup pot, and while I opened the cans and stirred the soup into the pot, he began to make toast. Sophia set three bowls on the table, along with spoons.

“Are you nervous?” I asked her.

“Not really, though you never can tell what you’re going to run up against when you go out ghost hunting. What worries me is whatever entity—or entities—we’ll be dealing with given the Bleeding Rock. I can’t believe that so many people were sacrificed over the years without either attracting Xetanbu, or at least some freaky assed demon that might have been hovering near the area.” She paused, then blushed. “I’m sorry?—”

“No, I know what you mean. Most of my kind—at least the full-blooded ones—are nothing to mess around with.” I ladled the soup into the bowls as Dante brought over six pieces of toast. We settled down to eat.

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