Camera Obscura (A Novel of Shadows Book 1)

by Christina Quinn

  “Give me a moment or two, I’m just putting the finishing touches on this,” she muttered returning to whatever she was doing, I couldn’t see it, the counter blocked my view.

  “What is this?” I approached the register.

  “A Golem.”

  “Why do you need a Golem?”

  “To scare the shit out of the kids who keep screwing with my displays at night and to mind the shop while I’m out.”

  I peeked over the counter, she was stuffing purple clay between the seams of a life-size replica of a comic book hero’s mechanical suit. It was fascinating to watch her work. She was so careful, never once did any of that clay fall to the floor or get on her clothes. I don’t know why I assumed it would be messy, she did graduate with the highest honors.

  “Mind the shop? How British of you?”

  “I did live in England for most of my life. I might have dropped my accent, but speech patterns are harder to shake.” She took a step back and snatched the slender, pale wand from the counter.

  After setting the replica on its feet, she spoke some words in Latin while waving her wand like the conductor of a symphony. The lights on the replica turned on, and it started walking around the store. If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume it was an employee in there and not magic.

  “There we go.” She wiped her hands on a damp towel beside the bowl of clay and grinned at me. “What’s the favor this time?”

  “I need to know about fertility deities or rituals. Specifically, those who might have been in the area recently.”

  “I can’t help you with the last part, but maybe Jon can. It’s our anniversary.” She beamed at me, positively glowing.

  “Happy Anniversary.”

  “Thanks. We’re doing dinner and dancing, and then maybe a movie.”

  “That sounds nice.” What else am I supposed to say?

  “There are a lot of fertility deities, I don’t even need to look in a book to know that.”

  “What about ones powerful enough to make a female vampire carry to term and two Sidhe from opposite sides of the spectrum conceive? They’d also have to be scary, as in if people asked about it the other party would clam up.”

  “Hmm…” she fell into silence and without warning walked into her office, I trailed behind her.

  Tabs’s office looked more like a toy store than a place where someone conducted the more somber aspects of business. Action figures in bold Crayola colors covered her desk in heroic poses. She pulled an old leather bound tome from her bottom desk drawer and waved her wand over it, the book opened by itself and flipped through pages for a while before stopping and highlighting a few passages on the page in a bright, warm light.

  Squinting, I attempted to read the tiny print but found I couldn’t. Fucking Wizards and their magical language. It was one of the downsides to being a minus null, I couldn’t read wizard. If I had someone transcribe it for me in normal ink I could read it, but the magical properties of their books made it all gobbledygook and garbage to me.

  “Interesting.” She canted her head to the side and crossed her arms. Serious Tabs was a sight to behold, she looked like someone who could have carried their own at Southingwick, leading a class full of the Wizarding best and brightest.

  “Good interesting?”

  “Promising at least. There are two deities that come to mind, one is Egyptian, and the other is Sumerian. Both are still alive, they all kind of float around doing what fertility deities do.”

  “Okay, but why would anyone get touchy about asking if they saw one of them?”

  “Well, the Cult of Isis is very protective of her. But it’s more than that, technically these beings are doing things they shouldn’t be. These stops were placed upon these people for whatever reason. Take the one example you gave me, the two Sidhe from opposite spectrums. Seelie and Unseelie can’t procreate because instead of their magics canceling each other out they actually multiply. More often than not, if there is a fertilized egg it can’t contain the magic and it’s fried. So, if what you’re telling me is true, then whatever came from that union is a terrible power, maybe one that shouldn’t exist in the world. Surely as a Shadow, you can see how this might make things problematic. Just learning of the offspring’s existence would probably end up with a case before the Camera Umbra.”

  I sucked my teeth. Tabs was right. “Do you have time for me to go through a list with you?”

  “Oh yeah, I have all the time in the world now. Shoot!”

  I took out my phone and pulled up my case files. “A werewolf from two clans? Why would that be a problem?”

  “Depends. See, Scandinavian werewolves have two types and so do Native werewolves. You have your standard Lycanthropes, and then you have the Berserkers and Skin Changers. The latter two are deeply spiritual and highly magical. Maybe people just assume that a werewolf is a werewolf, but it’s not that simple. Most of the hereditary lines contain both, in fact, that’s the only way for it to be hereditary. Lycanthropy the disease, in most cases, is very hard to pass on to the child for some reason. Something about resilient DNA, science stuff.” She laughed. “I know more about the magical aspect of it. But again, if on the off chance two Hereditary werewolves from a Native and a Scandinavian clan got together their offspring would be like Sidhe from the different courts. A magnified power, and again the Camera Umbra would have to get involved.”

  “But what about Sorcery houses?”

  “What about them?”

  “Why would they need to seek out someone like that and what would the result be?”

  “That one I can’t really answer. Maybe one of the parents was the child of a vampire? This is all Magic theory by the way. Nothing like this has ever happened or existed.”

  “If they had Sidhe blood?”

  “If who?”

  “What if a sorceress had Sidhe blood, would they be able to have a child naturally with a Sorcerer?”

  “That happens all the time. So, the answer is most certainly yes.”

  “What the if Sorcerer was one of the rare ones?”

  “There are only a handful of those and only two in the area, you’re talking about Thornton Sterling III?”

  “Yes.”

  “I mean, this is all theory, Rosie.”

  “Why don’t you want to say it?”

  “Because I like to think the best of people.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that they had to have known what they were doing. The worst kept secret in the preternatural community is that House Sterling picks and chooses mates for the kids, not companions or lovers or wives or husbands but mates. Essentially, they throw their children together with the supposed best of the other houses and see what sticks. And by that, I mean if they get pregnant they end up married. For what you’re saying to be the case, Thornton Sterling II picked a designer bride for his son’s wife. And by designer, I don’t mean super model, though she probably looked like one back in the day, or maybe still does under all that glamor.”

  “I spoke with a Cavendish who said that they had problems getting pregnant. They called Thornton the fourth a test tube baby.”

  “Not quite, but close enough.” She shrugged. “They broke with tradition if that’s the case, and knowing that family they did so with a purpose.”

  “So, you think it’s plausible that Thornton Sterling IV is a quarter sidhe?”

  “For them to have issues conceiving it would have to be closer to half and maybe more than just sidhe magic.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there wouldn’t be enough of a conflict between their magic without there being more sidhe and something else to grab on to. It’d have to be sidhe magic with socerery and maybe something else.” I nodded, but the honest truth was that all of it just made my head hurt.

  “Okay.”

  “In lay man’s terms, his mother’s not what she tells people she is.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “If I’
m right, you Shadows should have nipped this in the bud a while ago.”

  “Out of the two who’s scariest?”

  “I wouldn’t want to meet either of them in a dark alley, or have either of them particularly upset with me.”

  “What does your gut tell you?”

  “Rosie, there is nothing logical about going with your gut.”

  “Tabs…” I rubbed my temples.

  “I know. This is why we’re always at odds, we work in different ways. From what I know, and my gut has nothing to do with this, I’d say your money should be on Isis.”

  “The one with the scary cult.”

  “Yup.”

  “Thanks.” I turned for the door, and it closed before I could reach it.

  “I helped you, you help me.”

  I sighed heavily. “Fine. What do you need?”

  “I need you to talk to Abby for me. I’d do it myself, but it’s my anniversary today.”

  “Done and done. I need to pick up more bullets anyway.”

  “Fantastic. Oh! And before I forget, remember Fiona? She used to be one of you guys.” Fiona was my idol to a degree. She had broken with the Shadows and opened up her own Consulting business. She worked with the police more often than not on catching those who didn’t commit crimes big enough for the Camera Umbra to take notice.

  “Yeah, I know Fiona.” I tried to contain my hero worship.

  “She asked me a similar question earlier this week. Jon’s been out of town on family business, so I haven’t had a chance to really bother him too much.”

  “Thanks…” I paused reaching for the door. “Would you?”

  “Would I? Oh, go to someone for help conceiving?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No. As much as I want a child with Jon, it’s not worth the risk to get magic involved. Sometimes you just have to accept that it’s not meant to be. Though, we are going to adopt.”

  “The risk?”

  “Nothing’s for free, and nothing is done out of the goodness of someone’s heart in our world. You know that. These people were all taken for a ride that there’s no getting off, Rosie. Hell, they probably thought they were in control, that their child’s gifts wouldn’t be anything spectacular enough to call attention to what they might have done.”

  I left after that, giddy about the prospect of seeing Fiona, and a little dismayed by Tabs’s ominous words. I stood on the street for a few moments with my hands in my pockets. I could see Castella’s down the road. As tempting as it was to see how Thorn was doing, I thought better of it. I had two errands to run that were way more important than checking in on Thorn.

  Abby’s was on the way back to work, so I figured I’d swing by there. They were all close. Fiona, Tabs, and Abby did a girls’ night out together from time to time. I had a standing invitation, but I didn’t think I’d know what to do in a gathering of people without a purpose, so I never went.

  Seven

  EVERY TIME I pulled up in front of Knit Happens I thought about finding someone else to get my guns from. It was a Yarn Store, as in knitting and crocheting, or rather it was to everyone not in the know. Abby, the owner, supplied Shadows and other members of the Preternatural community with weapons exclusively. I kept telling myself that was why the powder blue old Victorian looked like the last place anyone would find a gun. The reality was Abby liked to knit, and she liked to play with guns. She was a weapons expert, but you’d never guess it looking at her.

  While in the front of the shop, she was all smiles and dressed a little like June Cleaver, complete with retro pin curls and that one shade of bright red lipstick. She was what some would call retro chic, right down to her black cat eye glasses. However, when she was in the back with the guns and weapons, she could talk shop with the best of them.

  Opening the door, I was just in time to watch Abby throw a knitting needle like a throwing knife at one of her customers. The long seemingly banal appliance stuck in the wall with a thud as the customer scurried out of the shop. I pulled the needle out of the wall before approaching the counter, where surprisingly enough Fiona stood with a man behind her wearing a collar that read Thursday.

  “This is great, I actually need to talk to both of you,” I said placing the well balanced and entirely too sharp knitting needle on the counter.

  “Oh?” Fiona raised a brow and leaned back against her Thursday.

  She still dressed like a Shadow, black jacket, dark jeans and a simple top. Her hair was curly and loose, framing her face and shoulders. Having left the Shadows, she no longer used the surname Black, but instead chose the name Grey for herself. She was a living legend to most Shadows, and the fact that she lived with what I would describe as a Harem of men only made her that much larger than life to me. Each man wore a collar with a different day of the week on it, so to the best of my knowledge she had seven. I had expressed my admiration for her ability to surround herself with so many gorgeous men once, and she proceeded to tell me how she cared about all of them and they cared about each other and I—being the selfish little sociopath I am—lost interest.

  Other than the collar, her Thursday wore a black vest with a hood, a white t-shirt, and tight dark jeans. Oddly enough, he was also armed, at the small of his back was a bulge from an inner pants holster, ruining the line of his otherwise immaculate body.

  “Mhm, I just came from Tabs’s shop. She told me you asked her a similar question—”

  “Ah, the fertility thing?” Fiona said stifling a yawn.

  “Yeah.”

  “The Van Ard heir is missing.”

  “Wow, really?” The Van Ards fancied themselves monster hunters. They had middling magical powers and considered themselves the bulwark that protects humanity from everyone else—including the Order of Shadows. They held fast to the belief that everything could be settled within the confines of human law.

  “Yup. They came to me because they came up cold, and they couldn’t go to your firm because… well, that would be admitting that they’ve been out of their depth for the last two centuries.”

  “I think our cases might be connected. I’m working five disappearances at the moment, and they all share the same common thread of this fertility deity. I pushed Tabs, and she said it might be Isis.”

  “That would explain all the hush-hush.” She looked around and sighed. “Thursday, be a lamb and take this out to the car.” She held her bag out and as he took it she kissed him. It made me think of Thorn for a moment. I grumbled to myself and pushed the thoughts away, everything was as it should be and I didn’t need to go fucking it up by getting involved with someone who was probably going to end up dead anyways.

  Fiona stayed quiet until the little bell at the door stopped ringing. She looked around the shop for a moment before nodding slowly. A small part of myself was squealing, Fiona’s going to tell me a secret! While clapping its hands and doing other things equally ridiculous.

  “If you really want my unfiltered opinion. You guys are the cause of these missing persons.”

  “You guys? You mean the Shadows?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But why wait until now?”

  “The why doesn’t always matter, Rose. All signs point to it being the Camera Umbra passing down a judgment that the kid, or now kids with your cases, are too powerful to live.”

  I wasn’t dumb enough to respond with the shiny, optimistic sentiment that they would never do such a thing. It was completely within the Camera Umbra’s power to do it, but that didn’t make it right, and it didn’t explain why it was almost thirty-two years in some cases for judgment to pass. Then there was the fact that the full file was almost empty.

  “I don’t think it’s that simple,” I added leaning against the counter.

  “Oh? Unless you have some other information?”

  “Have you found the body yet?”

  “Yes, I got a text from Cole at the morgue. They found the body this morning.”

  “How long was he missing for?”
>
  “Six days and they’re saying it looks like a suicide attempt. But it has all the hallmarks of judgment.”

  “Have you told the parents yet?”

  “No, I’m not trying to start a war. While I’m not fond of what the Shadow’s do, I’m not stupid enough to tell the fucking Van Ard family that a Shadow killed their son. Why do I always feel like you’re interrogating me, Rose? Never mind, I have things to do.” She started for the door. “Castella’s on Saturday, Abby!” Fiona called back before the door closed, leaving Abby and me alone in the store amongst the colorful skeins of yarn.

  “What can I get you, Rosie?” Abby beamed at me, adjusting her glasses.

  “A box of nine mil rounds, oh and I guess I should pick up some .38s?”

  “Oh! I forgot to ask, did you love the Pico?” She inquired with a swish of her skirt as she stepped from behind the counter. Last time I visited her, she talked me into buying a new gun, a Beretta Pico. I resisted the idea at first, but she went over all the benefits of having such a tiny little gun in my arsenal that also happened to be automatic.

  “You were right; I did need something smaller. It works well with the thigh holster—doesn’t chafe as much.”

  “That’s because it’s so light weight. My issue with them is the plastic. Call me old fashioned, but I have a soft spot in my heart for gunmetal.”

  “Who were you throwing the knitting needle at?”

  “Jonas, he keeps insisting that I’m price gouging him. Silver’s expensive, if you want silver bullets that costs.”

  “Why isn’t he getting them from the armory?”

  “I dunno? Why don’t you get yours from the armory?” She flashed me a smile as we walked into the room where she kept the guns. The yarn shop was a shell more or less, and at the center of the building was a two-story gun store. Everything was kept behind a counter that Abby slipped behind almost instantly. The only thing not on the other side of the partition were the holsters. She kept immaculate records of who bought what and when.

  “Tabs wants to know when whatever it is you’re making for her this time will be ready.”