NEW HOMEOWNERS BEWARE!

You have bought a home for the first time, signed the papers, and got the keys. You go to check the mail for the very first letters to arrive at your new mailbox.

Stop!

I jump in your way with a warning. 

Hark! I can see into the future. When you open that mailbox, you will find letters saying scary things in big, bold letters like how your home warranty is expired. Or maybe it's telling you to order certain documents such as your home's deed for a price. And attached to those letters are application forms for you to fill out along with payment instructions.

Whatever you do, DO NOT PICK UP THAT PEN! DO NOT TAKE OUT THAT CHECKBOOK! AND DEFINITELY DO NOT CALL THE NUMBER ON THOSE LETTERS.

Before doing anything else, you should do research to see if those letters are for real. All it takes is taking a picture of the letter with whatever AI assistant you got on your phone, and what you may find is that those scary, official-looking letters may actually be what would be considered highly deceptive forms of advertisements. The companies and the services they offer may be legitimate, but there is a risk of being overcharged for services you can get for much, much, much cheaper or even FREE elsewhere. Don't take my word for it. Your AI companion will say it all. 

And if AI is not your thing, just look up how the companies sending out those letters are rated online. One place you should definitely check with is the Better Business Bureau, which grades companies and businesses based on how trustworthy they are. The grades those companies got should tell you all you need to know what kind of company they really are. You can decide what to do after that.

Well, even if you do take the AI route, it's always good to do a good, old-fashioned search too. AI ain't perfect, after all, so it's always good to double-check with other sources.

Now, you might be wondering, how do these companies know that you're a homeowner? They got your name and address, and everything. The answer to that is very easy: property ownership is public information. Your ownership of a home is in public records which companies can use to target you for advertisements, or so-called advertisements.

So, what can you do about it? Well, for starters, if you're not in the mood to pay for something you may already have, or you don't need what they're selling, you can just shred the letter and throw it away.

And this definitely doesn't just apply to homeowners. Deceptive advertisement is everywhere these days. Not just in your mailboxes.  They're all over the internet.

Before signing for anything or paying for anything, always do your due diligence. Research, research, research. Before you start doing business with any companies at all, check to see how they're rated. Check to see if there are any complaints of deception, fraud, or other bad things. Compare prices for the services they offer with other places to see if there is any overpricing (this can also save you a whole bunch of money for most other things).

That's all I got to say right now. Just a quick word advice to all you new homeowners and future homeowners. I hope you find this article useful and will share it with others so they don't go into homeownership blind.

Stay safe, and stay sharp. Happy reading, everyone. 

Shifters Chapter 10

"Stupid Circe. No help Circe. The most useless witch on the planet Circe!"

Morgan was trudging up a hill alongside black paved road, grumbling put-downs with no one around but herself and the dismal barren trees to hear them. She was on her way to the viewpoint at the top, the place where it all started to begin an admittedly reckless search of the surrounding wilderness for her beloved boyfriend. But it was the only course of action she had left after Circe proved herself to be no help at all and questioning Benjamin had proved fruitless.

"I would've thought you'd know more about that than I would," said her future brother-in-law, when asked about places Roger would go to be alone or to feel safe.

Morgan was well aware that the wilderness had been combed many times already by those better equipped, better experienced and better knowledgeable than her. But there was always a chance that even their trained eyes might have missed something, a clue that could shine a light on where Roger might be, and she was counting on her own untrained eyes to find that something.

After a long period of walking, (at least one hour and twelve minutes according to her phone), Morgan reached the viewpoint where Roger had transformed. The car was gone, of course. It was towed away somewhere after the police had finished with their investigation.

She stopped to catch her breath, which had become ragged and heavy from that troublesome uphill walk, and took the time to look down over the railing. It was odd, she thought, that when she had last visited here at night, the view below was the most beautiful sight on earth with the sea of twinkling city lights in the vivid, black darkness, yet now stretched out before her depressingly gloomy beneath the pale gray, cloud-filtered daylight. It almost felt like seeing the world after it had already ended.

Morgan shivered and then furiously shook her head free of dismal thoughts.

"Wake up, Morgan!" she told herself. "Now's not the time to be daydreaming."

She turned to face the wilderness. At the forefront was the tree, still scarred from when the car door crashed into it. If anyone had taken a closer look, they would find traces of the car's red paint in the jagged edges of frayed bark. But the police never did, thinking the scar a natural part of the tree and did not look out of place. A few feet past the tree were the bushes that Roger dove into before disappearing out of sight.

After taking a deep breath and doing some stretches, Morgan took one step towards the trees, and then another. And then another. She walked past the tree Roger had scarred and snapped off brittle branches as she pushed aside the bushes.

Deeper and deeper into the wilderness, she went, quick to lose track of time. It was dead quiet, except for the crunching of leaves and twigs crushed underfoot by her boots. Her eyes roamed left and right, back and forth, but all she could see were trees, trees and more trees. There were short trees and tall trees, thin trees and fat trees. There were trees as black as night and trees almost as lightly gray as the sky over them. The only thing they had in common was that they were all completely bare of leaves. The viewpoint was completely gone now, and with it any trace of human civilization.

But Morgan was not concerned about that. She was too focused on finding traces of Roger. However, it should be no surprise that she found none. Her eyes, as mentioned earlier, were untrained. She was arrogant to think that she would have a better chance of finding someone lost in the woods than trained professionals. She didn't even know what she should be looking for.

Still, she persisted, too stubborn to give up. She continued to push her way through sharp, prickly branches, ignoring the biting cold on her rosy cheeks and the occasional snag and tear on her rather expensive winter coat. And she even sat down on the cold, wet mud whenever she needed to take a break to ease up her throbbing, aching feet. 

Morgan was not ashamed to admit that she was never the outdoorsy type, so it surprised her how much she was willingly putting up with. She didn't mind enduring the discomforts of nature at all. Focus on her mission probably helped, but she also found the extremely quiet atmosphere pleasant. There wasn't even any wind blowing right now. It was just peaceful here. Just peaceful and . . . quiet?

Morgan frowned. From nearby, she heard crunching leaves and snapping twigs. But she was sitting down, mostly unmoving so it couldn't be her. That could only mean that she was not alone. 

Morgan craned her neck and looked around behind her. She thought it was a rescue worker or a member of the search party looking for Roger. What she found standing behind her were one . . . two . . . three . . . five persons (three men and two women), with pale blue skin staring back at her with eyes that glowed with red light. For some reason, the way they looked at her reminded Morgan of a nature documentary she once saw. That nature documentary was heavily about lions on a hunt.

It was pretty obvious by their appearance that the newcomers were not human. But hoping they were the peaceful sort of not-human (there was still a chance they were part of the search and rescue operation), Morgan cleared her throat and asked, "Can I help you?"

The blue people all bared their teeth and hissed, "Werewolf!" They all had pairs of long fangs hanging downward like curved stalactites.

"Vampires!" Morgan immediately realized. Her mind raced. Didn't that shop lady, Daisy, say that vampires and werewolves hated each other, or something like that? And for some reason, these vampires think that she's a werewolf. Wait, werewolf-hating vampires thinking that I'm a werewolf? "Oh, that can't be good."

She immediately turned and sprang into a run, only to stop a second later when she found her way blocked by one of the women and one of the men.

How'd they get ahead of me? Morgan wondered. It's like they got superspeed!

She turned to run right, but there was a vampire there. She turned to run left, but there was a vampire there too. And, of course, there was a vampire on the way back as well. Before Morgan knew it, she was surrounded.

"Pretty slow for a werewolf," said the woman at the back, nose up while she regarded Morgan coolly.

"Now that I got a closer sniff, she's got more human than wolf stench on her," said the man to Morgan's right.

Morgan was afraid. Of course, she was. She was surrounded by freaky blue people with freaky fangs, and freaky glowing, red eyes. But she was able to muster enough courage to speak up and said, "That's because I'm not."

"But the wolf stench is strong," said the man at the left. "If she's not a wolf, she must be close with one. And going by the smell, the wolf is a strong one. A really strong one. I'd put it on the same level as Jim, if not higher."

"A prime suspect then," said the second woman. "What do you think, Boss?"

All eyes turned to the first woman, apparently called, "Boss". She was tall, with a narrow, gaunt face and curly, flaming red hair cut to the level of her chin. 

"I have no idea what you guys are talking about," Morgan said, which was only partially true. Her heart raced fast at the mention of a wolf's smell. It could only be Roger's. But the stuff about levels and a suspect went way over her head. "But whatever it is, I've got nothing to do with it. Neither does Roger."

Boss smirked. "So, the wolf's name is Roger."

Morgan clapped her hands over her mouth, cursing herself. Damn it, Morgan! You spoke too much!

Slowly, the boss of the vampires approached. Morgan backed away but stopped when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. The other vampires were closing in on her.

"You and I are going to have a little chat," said the boss.

"About what?" Morgan asked, eyes wandering around her.

"Namely about your wolf friend," was the vampire boss's answer. "Roger."

At the mention of Roger's name, a fire lit in Morgan and she shouted, "You leave Roger alone! He has nothing to do with you! Or your feud with other werewolves!"

"That," the vampire boss said, still ever slowly advancing towards Morgan, "remains to be seen."

Morgan swallowed and shrank but put on a brave face and lowly said, "You won't get anything out of me."

The vampire boss's fingernails burst in growth and curved into sharp points, like the claws of a tiger. "That also remains to be seen. Hold her."

From behind, the woman vampire grabbed hold of Morgan's right arm, and the man vampire grabbed Morgan's left arm.

"No!" Morgan cried. "Let go!"

She yanked her arms as hard as she could, with all the strength she could muster, but the vampires held firm and felt little resistance at all.

"Let go! Let go! Let go!"

"Oh, hush!" went the vampire boss. She was now just a few inches from Morgan. "I don't want to hear another word out of you unless it's an answer to my questions. And it better be an honest one, because I would hate for anything to happen to that pretty little face of yours."

Morgan could feel something pointed brush gently across her left cheek. Her eyes rolled down to the blue, clawed hand near it. She dared to say nothing but breathed loudly through her nose.

"Now tell me," the vampire boss said in a low whisper, "where is Roger?"

Morgan hesitated to speak but then answered honestly while glaring fiercely into the eyes of her captor. "I don't know. But even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

The vampire boss coldly glared back, unmoved in anyway by Morgan's show of defiance. She was as cool-headed as ever, and said, "I see." She backed away a few steps and turned her back to Morgan. "So, you won't tell me what I want to know. That's fine."

"It . . . is?" Morgan was a little relieved at getting some personal space back, but she was also a bit confused. She didn't expect the vampire to give up so easily without doing ANYTHING. 

"Oh, sure," said the vampire boss, smiling. "Because even if I can't get you to talk, that doesn't mean there aren't other ways to get anything out of you."

Faster than Morgan could blink, the vampire boss whirled around like a spinning top. Her claws whistled as they sliced through air towards Morgan's neck. Then came the sound of loudly tearing fabric.

<== Chapter 9.                                                                                                             Chapter 11 ==>

Shifters Chapter 9

"Now, I got a few questions for you," Circe said while glaring at the two vampires held high up in the air by an invisible wall monster with lots and lots of bald human heads with infinitely long, rubber-like necks. "No need to explain why you attacked me. I already know you vampires have problems with werewolves. What I want to know is, why'd you think I was a werewolf in the first place."

The twins exchanged quick glances.

Lacking patience, Circe conjured a ball of fire into her hand and threw it. It exploded next to the brother's head with a loud bang, striking stinging heat into his face and further fear in his heart.

"Eek! It's your smell!" he shrieked. "You smelled like a wolf, so we thought you were one! We didn't know you were some powerful witch. I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me!"

"My smell?" Circe sniffed the back of her hand. She smelled nothing (to her relief), but it didn't look like the guy was lying. Perhaps faint traces of Roger's smell lingered from when she and Morgan visited his room. "Next question, the guy you mentioned earlier, Drake. Is his full name Jim Drake Jr.?"

At the mention of the late lawyer's name, the sister gained a burst of courage and shouted, "What does it have to do with you?"

"It has everything to do with me if I'm being attacked in his name," Circe snapped back. "Now answer the question!"

She produced another ball of fire in her hand and threw it.

The sister shrieked when the flamed exploded with a bang next to her face. She lost all bravado and answered, "Yes! It's Jim Drake Jr.!"

"Just who was he?" Circe demanded to know. "How's he related to you two? And what does he have to do with attacking me? With attacking werewolves?"

"He's one of the top vampires in town," explained the brother. "One of our leaders, basically. The news said that a bear killed him, but everyone knows that's not true. No way a bear can hurt a vampire. Not a lot of things can. And even less could hurt a vampire like THAT. Only a werewolf would attack that way."

By "THAT", he was talking about the way Jim Drake Jr. was killed. According to the news, it was a vicious, savage attack, the sort only a large, rabid beast would make. All in all, it was not a pretty sight. 

Circe already suspected that it was really a werewolf that attacked the unlucky lawyer. But now she was sure of it. Still, it surprised her to find out that the lawyer of a family of werewolves was actually a vampire, the mortal enemy of werewolves. Not only that, but he was also one of the head honchos of the vampires.

"Okay," she said. "Now I understand everything. "It's not just that you guys hate werewolves. You're out for revenge. But it didn't matter to you who you took revenge on. Even if they had nothing to do with the attack, as long as they're a werewolf, anyone's a target. Is that right?"

Both vampires nodded.

"We told you everything," said the sister. "Now can you let us go?"

Circe frowned at her. "You guys just tried to kill me. Just what makes you think I'll just let you go?" 

"We were not!" the sister protested. "We were just going to scare you a little. That's all! No harm!"

"Oh, sure," Circe said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. "No harm at all, tearing a girl's face off with razor sharp claws."

"I was only aiming for your hair!" cried the sister vampire.

"Yeah!" shouted the brother vampire. "Just a little snip!"

"That so does not make things better!" Circe cried out. These two are idiots, she thought. "And there's no way I can just let you go knowing you two were out to attack random strangers just because they were a certain kind of person."

"Not even werewolves?" the brother asked hopefully.

"Not even werewolves!" Circe snapped. "It's just plain wrong and evil!"

That said, she thought to herself, what DO I do with them? It's not like I can just lock them up somewhere. Or maybe I can. That warehouse Donatello owns should still be abandoned. It'd be perfect place to throw them in. No, it's too far away. There's no way I can get there and back in time for dinner.

Luckily, she did not have to ponder long.

Her sudden silence and pensiveness had inspired feelings of foreboding in the vampires. Brother and sister both had very wild imaginations, and they could not stop their brains from cooking up all sorts of horrible ideas their captor may have in store for them. It didn't help them that their parents used to tell horror stories about sorcerers who would gleefully do anything vomit-inducing in the name of research. 

"If you ever wondered why humans used to hate witches and warlocks so much," Papa Vampire would say, "that's why."

And the papa and mama vampires told A LOT of such stories to the twins when they were still just little, itty-bitty kiddie vampires.

Circe, of course, would never even think to do such things, but the siblings did not know that. Very quickly, their fears piled up until they could no longer stand the strain and begged for their lives.

"We'll do whatever you want!" cried the brother. "We will be your loyal, indentured servants for life!"

"You name it, it's yours!" blurted the sister. "The WiFi password, the combo to our dad's safe, even our grandma's secret lasagna recipe! All of its yours!"

Together the twins declared, "We are yours to command, O great and powerful witch!"

Circe was startled and bemused by the abrupt swears of allegiance and then got suspicious. What could they be up to? She wondered. Did they really mean what they said?

Her doubts were apparently clear on her face, because the sister immediately offered, "We'll sign a contract!"

Circe blinked. "A contract?"

The siblings nodded vigorously.

"That's right! A contract!" exclaimed the brother. "The magic kind! No way to break that kind of contract! You make it, we sign it, you get two loyal servants and we keep our lives! How about it?"

Circe thought for a moment. A contract actually sounded like a good idea. She didn't know how to make the kind of magic contracts that the vampires were talking about, but they didn't need to know that as long as it helped keep them from misbehaving. And having two vampires under her control could prove useful later.

But it wouldn't hurt to have some insurance, she figured. Her eyes roamed to the wall of many heads. That'll do.

After loudly clearing her throat, she fixed what she hoped was a convincing queenly cold stare on the vampire twins. "Very well," she said, mimicking the haughtiness of royalty seen on TV. "Swear undying loyalty to me and I'll let you go. But fair warning, even if I don't say anything beforehand, if you do something I don't like, you better be ready to face some punishment. UNDERSTAND?"

The twins nodded they did.

"Good. Then what are you waiting for? Swear your loyalty."

"I, Mick Sanders, swear my loyalty to you."

"I, Wendy Sanders, swear my loyalty to you."

They spoke at the same time, but not totally in sync, making their overlapping words a bit of a jumbled mess. But Circe was satisfied and snapped her fingers, signaling the monster to let the twins go.

The heads of the wall monster let go and the twins dropped to their feet. They briefly went down on one knee and showered Circe with reverent thanks. "Oh, thank you, Great Witch. Thank you, Great and Powerful Witch!"

Circe rolled her eyes to it and returned her gaze to the wall monster with an order for it to watch over the vampires in case they start making trouble again.

Once she felt like they had done enough thanking, the sister, Wendy swat the arm of the brother, Mick, and whispered, "Let's go!"

Mick nodded and the two rose back up. They were about to leave when a thought crossed Circe's mind.

"Wait," she ordered.

Brother and sister froze mid-step and looking disappointed and worried.

"Yes? What is it?"

The impatience in Wendy's voice annoyed Circe. It reminded her of Morgan. But letting it slide for now, the "Great and Powerful Witch" posed the two vampires a question.

"Are all the vampires like you?" she asked. "Are they all out for revenge? Happy to attack any werewolf they find?"

The twins exchanged looks. 

"Don't worry, My Lady," said Mick. "We're not like that anymore."

"We promise you, we have learned the errors of our ways," said Wendy.

Circe scowled. "That's not what I asked."

The twins exchanged looks again

"Oh, right," went Wendy. "Well, WE don't do that anymore, but a lot of vampires are angry that a werewolf killed Mr. Drake."

"Not that a lot of people actually liked the guy," added Mick. "To be honest, he was a bit of a jerk."

"But plenty of vampires see it as an act of war," Wendy continued. "And I guess plenty of vampires think that they finally got the perfect excuse to get rid of the all the wolves which are eyesores to them."

"Not us though," Mick quickly added. 

"Right, nope," Wendy piled on. "Never even crossed our minds."

"But anyone that's got even a whiff of werewold smell on them's got a target on their backs, right?"

"Not for us," said Wendy. "But yeah. As long as you have that smell on you, My Lady, there's a chance other vampires will see you as an enemy to hunt down. Not that we think you're an enemy to hunt down. No way, not us. We're your loyal servants now."

Circe was no longer listening. Her mind raced. She and Morgan had both gone into Roger's room. Circe was sure that was how the smell of werewolf that the twins sniffed out was on her. In that case, Morgan also had the smell of werewolf on her right now, which would mean she was in very grave danger.

<== Chapter 8                                                                                                              Chapter 10 ==>