Page 31 of Shadow Scorching

“I suppose if I get stuck, I can crash on your sofa,” he said, sliding into the passenger seat.

“Sure thing. Now, let me focus on driving. It’s slick as hell.”

The temperature had warmed up just enough for the ice on the road to partially melt, but it was still snowing, and everything was an absolute mess. I put all my attention into keeping on my side of the street. As I managed to navigate home with one or two slips, it occurred to me that, unless he wanted to call a taxi, Dante was going to be my houseguest for the night. I didn’t want to go out again. By the time we reached the house and I eased into the driveway without plowing into Penn’s car, I was sweating.

“That was rough,” I said. “I’m not sure how we made it.”

“I assume I’m staying the night,” Dante said, slip-sliding across the driveway toward the house. The temperature was already dropping again and now the melt-off was glazing over, and the snow that was still falling was giving it an extra sheen of ice. “How long is this crap supposed to last?”

“I think into the weekend. Then it’s supposed to warm up again.” I took another step toward the porch and my feet slipped out from under me. I wavered, but went down on my ass. “Youch.”

“Here,” Dante said, steadying himself on the porch railing as he reached down to help me. I took his hand, trying not to pull on him as I slowly got to my feet.

“Thanks,” I said. Then, we were on the porch and on steady ground. Penn had salted the porch and we were able to get to the door without incident.

“We’re home,” I yelled as we entered the house. Jangles and Murdoch were lazing on the kitty condo, while Penn peeked out from the kitchen.

“Hey, you’re home early. And look at what the cats dragged in,” she said, winking at Dante.

“Tea, woman!” he said, hanging his jacket on the coat rack.

“Tea, yourself. You want some, you come help me fix it,” she said, vanishing back into the kitchen.

“She has a certain charm to her, doesn’t she?” Dante snickered, but when we entered the kitchen, he gave her a hug. “Hey, Penn. You were smart to stay home.”

“I don’t drive on snow,” she said. “You know that. So, the office quiet today?”

“It’s already quiet due to the holiday season, but with the snow…it’s dead. Neither Orik nor Carson could make it in today.” I shivered. “I’m chilled. When I fell, I landed in a partially melted pile of slush. I’m going to go change.”

“I’ll start lunch,” Penn said. “You go change.” She turned to Dante. “Come on Wolfie, come help me out.”

Dante sighed. “That’s all I am to you, isn’t it? A slave-boy,” he intoned pathetically.

“Babe, you don’t know the meaning of the word,” Penn said, laughing. “Let’s go figure out what to eat.”

As I headed toward my room, I ran over what we had seen on the cameras this morning. We’d have to re-set them, but I had no desire to do that on my own, and I wanted to know what we were facing before we went into that house again.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Penn madelunch while I opened the Dates Before Mates app.

“I can’t believe you’re asking me to do this,” I said.

“Consider it research,” Dante said. “So, what’s the form like?”

“Biased toward older women, which would be a good thing if I didn’t suspect the entire app of being a complete scam,” I said.

Far too many organizations and meet-ups were geared toward young women. While I was forty, my demon heritage kept me looking young. But the app seemed to be aimed toward humans and shifters. There were three boxes to check for ethnicity:Humans. Shifters. Other.I checked as human, deciding to make myself as much of a target as possible.

Penn leaned over my shoulder, watching. The frozen pizza was in the oven, and Dante had set the table. “What other questions do you have to answer?” she asked.

“Age, though they don’t have weight or body type, another odd lapse. There are a lot of questions about income, whether I own my house or rent, employment…a few about hobbies and interests. Yet, the app has a number of good reviews.” I frowned.

“Reviews can be faked. Especially with bots.” Dante leaned forward on my other side, also watching me enter information.

I didn’t use my real name, of course. Instead, I decided to use a name that sounded old-fashioned. “I’m going to be Estelle Weatherford. I need a photo…hold on.”

I jumped on the computer instead of my phone and went to an image depository, where you could buy stock photos to use for advertisements, and other such uses. I found a picture of a nice-looking older woman. She had white hair, and was wearing a fur coat and pearls. I bought the picture, cropped it, and put it up with my profile.

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