Camera Obscura (A Novel of Shadows Book 1)

by Christina Quinn

  “Oh that, I finished it days ago. She’s been so caught up in her anniversary that she hasn’t swung by.”

  “What is it?”

  “She wanted throwing knives that would hold an enchantment. That means silver not steel, and to get a proper edge, urgh! Don’t even get me started. It was a bitch and a half, but I think she’ll be pleased.” She dipped under the counter for a moment and came back up with three boxes of ammo.

  “You’re a goddess, that’s why I don’t get my ammo from the armory. That and Gary hates me.”

  “That’s because Gary thinks you’re a sociopath who shouldn’t be allowed to own a gun. He says you shoot too easy.”

  “I only shoot when necessary.” And when things that won’t die from it really, really piss me off.

  She laughed. “Oh sure. You know I’m friends with Christian, right?” I groaned and covered my face. “Exactly, Rosie. Exactly. He did probably have it coming, though, just because he’s so… I don’t even know. Such a pain in the ass?”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “Need anything else?”

  “Want to hook up with a slightly used sorcerer on the run?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” I took out my wallet and tossed a few bills on the counter.

  “Always a pleasure, Rosie. And come out with us this weekend!”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Eight

  THE MOMENT I sat in my car my phone rang with Davy’s ringer. If he was calling me, it only meant one thing—a quick kill. Occasionally as Shadows we can, from time to time, stop a horrible situation from getting out of hand. When an executioner gets involved, it’s called a quick kill or QK. I had one of the highest success rates of QKs. Once an executioner received the call, they had a minute or less to carry it out. The order only issued QKs when a clearly violent situation was unfolding that the human authorities had no hopes of resolving without a messy body count. Messy tended to mean beyond the teens.

  “Talk to me.” I sighed.

  “I’ve got a naughty boy for you, Rosie. Werewolf, turned in public Sixth and Waterburough four dead already…five.”

  “Got it.” I put my Bluetooth earpiece in, grabbed my clip of silver bullets out of the glove compartment and dashed down the street.

  “God, what is his problem,” Davy hissed in my ear as I sprinted as fast as I could through an alleyway. “It’s not even that close to the full moon. You should be coming up on it now.”

  Davy’s astute observation wasn’t necessary, the screams gave it away, that and the distinct smell of blood that filled the air as I stepped out from the alley. We all like to think that the worst crimes happen under cover of darkness, but I’ve found in my years of being a Shadow that the worst of everything tends to happen during the bright of day, when moonlight can’t mask the cherry red of fresh blood on the pavement.

  Dead bodies slumped over at random tables outside of a café I had never been there before—it looked far too pricey for me. People huddled under tables and behind planters as the massive gray wolf tore into one of its victims, wetting its snout in the blood that seemed almost technicolor it was so bright red. The creature’s own blood dripped from its fur, probably where well-meaning law enforcement or some idiot with a concealed carry thought they could solve the situation.

  It took a handful of seconds. I pushed myself to the side of the building, swapped clips and bang. The werewolf yelped, fell over dead, and I was on my way back to my car.

  “Good show, Rosie. The unwashed masses can rest safely again.” He seemed almost giddy in my ear, the tone of his voice made me sigh. “Uh-oh, I know that sound. What’s wrong? This is a good clean kill; I watched the cad chew threw three of those six before we tracked you down.”

  “But why?”

  “Usually I’m all for the why, Rose, but sometimes bad shit happens. People snap and kill people all the time. And when werewolves snap, when sorceresses, and Vampire snap its bad. This could have been way, way worse. Charlie was thirty minutes away, think of how many more could have died.”

  “That’s got nothing to do with it. This just seems…” I shook my head.

  “Of course not, I keep forgetting you’re not people, you’re a fucking plant. No heart, no emotions. So, what’s the sigh for? Out with it. Is this another two plus two equals seven?”

  “Charlie was half an hour away?”

  “Mhm, and Ellie was the next closest at forty-five. Charlie had a QK, and Ellie was working on a lead.”

  “It’s probably nothing.”

  “You say that, but I hear your voice. Promise me you’ll call if you need me.”

  “Cross my heart.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Even as I ended the call, I started swapping out magazines in my Glock. After chambering a round, I started for Castella’s. I might not have been clairvoyant, but that werewolf incident was all too convenient. Someone was trying to distract me; the problem was it probably worked. So, I might not have been exactly traveling at the speed limit as I made my way through town. It was probably only luck that saved me from being pavement pizza.

  Once I reached Castella’s, I snatched my silencer out of the glove compartment, jumped out of the car and ran for the service entrance. In the alley were two windowless vans, they were white without a single marking of any kind. They might as well have had giant blinking fucking signs on them that read KIDNAP VICTIMS INSIDE with arrows pointing to the back doors. Taking my pocketknife out, I slit the tires on one before taking my earpiece out of my pocket and dialing Davy’s personal number on my phone.

  “Eric’s House of Falafel, Tires changed also,” Davy’s happy voice chimed in my ear.

  “I’m at Castella’s.”

  “I can see, I barely had time to get up.”

  “Can you work your magic?” I pressed myself against the back of the van and tried to see into the kitchen. The doors were open, and all I could hear was indiscriminate shouting.

  There was the sound of clicking keys for a few seconds. “No, someone cut the feed.”

  “Can you give me anything?”

  “How much time do I have?”

  “None.”

  “God! Rose, you’re going to get yourself killed going in blind.”

  “Maybe.” I snuck into the kitchen keeping low.

  Once inside the shouting was clearer, Tammy had apparently barricaded herself in her office and whoever had the vans wasn’t happy about that one bit. As I hunkered down behind the sink, I dipped my suppressor in the standing water before screwing it to the barrel. The Cook was on the floor, but surprisingly enough he was unconscious; his chest rose and fell softly as I stepped over him making my way closer to the bar.

  “Four came in the vans, one came in through the front—I assume because he went in with his weapon pulled like his whole life is one big fucking western,” Davy whispered incredulously as I rolled behind the bar and grabbed a plastic bag and zip tie from the cupboards underneath. “Playing MacGyver?”

  “Mhm,” I mumbled wrapping the baggie around the gun and zip tying it to my wrist.

  “I’m giving you to the count of ten and then we’re coming in!” The one who looked to be the leader yelled while I bit a few tiny holes in the baggy. The only thing to differentiate Mr. Thinks-he’s-in-charge from his cohorts was a red a scarf and mirrored aviator shades. Other than that, they all looked like standard white guy number five with varying degrees of dark hair and stubble. “One!” He shouted, and I dropped the one nearest me. “Well, hot damn! Looks like you do have friends after all!”

  As he spoke, the other three returned fire, shattering liquor bottles, filling the air with the stench of whiskey, vodka, and bourbon. I peeked around the side of the bar and got off a shot wounding one before they saw me and aimed at that portion of the bar. The downside of there being three of them up and walking was that there was only one of me. They could lay down suppressive fire and advance while I hunkered
down and waited for them to come shoot me. I’d say like a duck but let’s be honest, ducks can fly.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Shhhh.” I hissed to Davy as I opened the cabinet where the well liquor was and grabbed the bottle of Everclear Tammy kept for Jell-o shots. I ripped the bottom portion of my shirt and stuffed it into the bottle.

  “There’s two more vans coming up the street, Rose. This might be one of those times when you retreat.”

  “Fuck that.” I lit the scrap of fabric in the bottle and threw it at the floor in front of the leader. He screamed, and his friends rushed to put him out. Contrary to popular belief the bottle doesn’t always have to shatter for a Molotov to be effective. I scrambled down the hallway to the office and knocked on the door. “Tammy let me in!” A second later the thick metal door opened a crack, and I squeezed in. “Davy I’m in.” Nothing. “Davy?”

  “Cell jammer,” Tammy grumbled. “Set my bar on fire again?” She crossed her arms and glared at me.

  “Oh, you’ve got some balls, Girlie. Ooowee do you have some fuckin’ balls on you.” The leader laughed, it sounded like he was right on the other side of the door. They certainly put him out fast. “It’s gonna be a shame to see all of that sweet talent splattered across the walls.”

  I took my earpiece out and shoved it into my pocket before ripping my hand out of the plastic bag, twisting up the two shiny casings. Thorn was in the corner comforting some small, pale haired girl with big hazel eyes. Audrey slouched against a file cabinet, holding her hand over the bloody stomach of someone I didn’t recognize. They were dead already, but I hadn’t the heart to break it to her. She probably tried to heal him as best she could, but he chances were he was probably too far gone by the time they dragged him in there.

  “They came in right between shifts. Knocked Emmet unconscious, shot Patrick. We almost didn’t make it back here.” Tammy growled and kicked the floor.

  “Do you have tenants upstairs?” I asked, crawling on top of the filing cabinets, and moving the drop ceiling tiles to the side.

  “Not for years, it’s just storage now.”

  “What’s above us?” Thud. Thud. Thud. Something loud and rhythmic was slamming against the metal door, jarring the hinges.

  “Just a room with boxes.”

  “Good. Th—Sid get over here.” With my request, he left the side of who I was assuming was his weretiger girlfriend to be and came to stand at the foot of the filing cabinets I stood on. “I need you to break a hole in the ceiling.”

  “I…”

  “I know! You’re not supposed to use your fucking powers in public,” I snapped at him. “But if you don’t, make no mistake, everyone in this fucking room is going to die.” The thudding on the door became loud high pitched banging, his attention fixed on the door. I leaned down and slapped him hard, “What’s the one rule!”

  “Survive,” he muttered.

  “Good. Now break through the fucking ceiling, and get everyone upstairs.” Hopping down from the cabinet, I could feel him gathering that power of his. “Tammy, do you still keep a gun in here?” I asked as I walked to her desk.

  “Yeah, .50 cal Desert Eagle top drawer.” Great. I knew why it was such a big gun, a fifty caliber round was the only thing that could slow down a werebeastie if it wasn’t silver.

  By the time I got the monster of a firearm out of the box and slid the clip in, Thorn was helping that scared girl climb up into the room above. I took a moment just to marvel at how pretty the gun was. It wasn’t matte, no it was so shiny there was glare coming off the damn thing. When I finished with my moment of gun envy, Tammy was talking in soft tones to Audrey, but I couldn’t actually make out what was being said because of the banging on the other side of the door. It was clear she didn’t want to leave Patrick even though he was obviously dead. Rolling my eyes, I walked over, and pistol whipped her once, knocking her unconscious.

  “Get her out of here,” I hissed waving them in the direction of the hole in the ceiling. Tammy carried her unconscious form over her shoulder like she was nothing as she jumped from the file cabinet up into the hole. Show off werewolf.

  “Aren’t you coming?” Thorn asked as he paused, reaching for the lip of the hole he made.

  “Someone has to give you time to get away.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll be fine.” I think. “Go. Tammy’ll make sure you get out safe.”

  “Ro—”

  “Go!” I hunkered down behind the desk as the door squealed.

  Thorn disappeared into the hole, and I felt more relieved than I probably should have. Tucking Tammy’s spare clips into my coat pockets, I chambered a round in the Desert Eagle.

  I had a plan! I’d hold them off for a few minutes and then sneak out through the air duct. I was small enough that I could easily get into most HVAC vents—however, they were never quite as clean and neat as movies would suggest. Needless to say, a tetanus shot was in my near future—if I survived.

  The metal door gave way with a shriek, and I fired into the doorway with the Desert Eagle. At first, I felt like I was fighting it every step of the way it kicked so hard, but half way through the first clip I habituated to the gun’s hard, upward jerk. After a few minutes of blindly returning fire, a grenade of some kind sailed through the air, and I did a big no-no, clamored to it, and threw it back. It actually exploded before it reached through the door—thankfully it was just tear gas.

  My eyes stung fiercely as I scrambled to the vent, knocking the desk, and filing cabinets over in the process. I wanted my path out to be more obvious than the giant hole in the ceiling, chances were they’d send people after both, but that was still split manpower.

  Though the air in the vent was cleaner, I had gotten enough of that crap in my eyes that I had to fight to see clearly, let alone not cough. And as I predicted, I snagged my arms and legs on rusty nails again and again as I made my way through the cramped and darkened space. Above me, there was as a lot of yelling. When I reached the next grate, I kicked it out and exited into the empty kitchen. Or rather what I thought was empty, the minute I pulled myself to standing I heard a gun cock.

  “Well loo—” Before Mr. Red-scarf could finish talking I fired the Desert Eagle at him and bolted through the open doors. And that kiddos, is why it’s a bad idea to try and talk to someone before shooting them. It gives them a chance to do what I did, splatter your brains across a nice clean kitchen.

  After an hour of parkour through the city, I found myself out of breath on a roof of a four-story walk-up. Honestly, if they had caught me, I’d have just walked into their rain of bullets. However, I had managed to successfully lose them. I collapsed against the massive whirring AC unit, put my ear piece back in, and then finally called Davy back.

  “Sweet fuck almighty you’re alive!” Davy exclaimed.

  “Something like that.” I stuck my finger through the hole in my jeans where one of the nails in the vent had torn open my leg about an inch. “I need stitches, a tetanus shot, and… a day the fuck off.”

  “Is—”

  “I don’t know.” I panted trying to catch my breath. Regardless of how fit you are, jogging, jumping, and climbing your way through a city for an hour with fifteen pounds of guns and ammo on you takes its toll.

  “What’s going on, Rose?”

  “I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

  “Well, I traced the vans that pulled up while you went blackout. The trail led to IPX which isn’t under Faust and Trust, or the Sala Corporation. It’s more or less a dead end unless you want to head to the IPX warehouse.”

  Groaning, I slammed my head back against the HVAC unit hard enough to cause the metal to warble like thunder.

  “Not tonight.”

  “Need a pickup?”

  “Yeah, I’m not going to make it back to my car.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “I just got a text. Aud made it out okay.”

  “Good.”r />
  “Though I should make you walk home for pistol whipping her.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I stood and dusted myself off before heading down the ladder on the side of the building that led to the fire escape. When my feet finally hit the pavement the ache from the hard run really started to set in, and all I wanted to do was take a nice warm bath and curl up in bed next to Thorn. What the fuck is wrong is with me?

  Nine

  HOME WAS NOT where I ended up right away. The first stop was a pop-up clinic where I got a tetanus shot and a lot of stitches. The downside to being a null was that magic didn’t help at all, which meant no magic anesthetic, and no one waving a wand or their hand over my wounds and instantly closing them. Something about the process of getting stitches after a fight always served to make me painfully aware of how fragile I was.

  During the ride home I started to call Thorn—though I was fairly certain he was probably already dick deep in Cassie the weretiger. I dialed his number and waited a while before hitting the call button.

  “Rose?” He sighed my name.

  “Yup, in the flesh, though there’s a little less of it now.” I laughed a bit and rubbed one of the stitches on my thigh. Thankfully, my jacket had protected my arms for the most part, but not my hands or legs. “I should be home in fifteen or so, if you want to start heading out that way. If you don’t, that’s fine too.” I cringed. That sounded about as smooth a high schooler trying not to let their crush know they’re interested.

  “I think I’m going to stay at Cassie’s tonight. She’s really shaken up about everything, and unlike someone I know, doesn’t have a gun in every room.” I didn’t point out that Cassie could turn into a five hundred pound killing machine, and if she was less of a coward that whole situation at Castella’s would have resolved itself. Or that because of his aversion to using his powers he couldn’t help her if shit hit the proverbial fan. I did suck my teeth and purse my lips a few seconds before answering.

  “That’s fine. Call before you come in the morning, I might have someone over.” I took the phone from my ear and pressed end without waiting for a response. I shrugged out of the tension that had set into my shoulders. Would I have someone over? Maybe. Did I even know why I said it? Oh, I had an inkling, and I didn’t like it in the slightest. I felt like my own subconscious had somehow betrayed me.