Camera Obscura (A Novel of Shadows Book 1)

by Christina Quinn

  “Minions? Thorn is far from a super villain.”

  “Is he? Is he really? If a billionaire perpetrating maniacal Machiavellian machinations to rule the preternatural community as it’s fucking king isn’t a super villain, then no one is, Rosie.”

  “Break out the thesaurus for that one?”

  “No, some of us actually paid attention to the non-combat portions of our training.”

  “Goodbye, Davy.” I hung up and took the earpiece out, tucking it into my pocket.

  I sat in my car for a whole ten minutes deciding whether or not to call Thorn and say lunch was fine. My phone felt heavy in my hand as I stared at the little green phone symbol. Gathering all my strength and courage, I pressed the button and held the phone to my ear, chanting the endless mantra of please-don’t-pick-up, until he did.

  “Hey, I’ve been thinking about you. Busy day?” I almost cackled in response, but I didn’t.

  “You could say that. It’s been pretty stressful.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Starving.” Killing all your henchmen has worked up quite an appetite.

  “Great, how soon can you get here?”

  “Depends on where here is.”

  “Here, is Sterling Tower One. XO Bistro has a nice private room on permanent reserve for me.” Yeah, like I’m going to go anywhere super private with you in the building you own. Nice try.

  “How about you meet me at Sunset Café?”

  “Sure, I guess if that’s where you want lunch. It’ll take me a while to wrap up here—surprisingly, being CEO is more than just golf and screaming at people—so meet you in forty-five to an hour?”

  “Okay.”

  “Miss you.” I cringed as he said it.

  “Miss you, too.” By some freakish miracle, I did not throw up in my mouth when I said it, though that might have had something to do with the fact that I hadn’t had anything to eat in six hours.

  ****

  Sunset Café was a tiny little bistro located in what looked to be an alleyway between two old brick buildings. The shadows of the two buildings cast the alley in complete darkness minus the light from the outdoor heaters that kept it a balmy seventy degrees. The door was a wrought iron gate that looked like it belonged more to a cemetery than a restaurant. Overhead was a clear domed awning that directed rain onto the neighboring buildings rooftops.

  The whole gimmick was upscale theme restaurant. The head chef was a vampire, who only worked from sunset to close. During the day her servant ran the kitchen and I honestly couldn’t tell the difference between either of their cooking—minus the mysterious twenty dollars added to some dishes. Other than that, I enjoyed their food and atmosphere—and the fact that I had never been turned away for not being dressed up enough.

  The heat when I passed under the gate was so warm it was damn near intoxicating. I purred rubbing my neck while I waited for the Host to seat a happy couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They looked like college students, so I guessed they were a new couple with that instinctive need to get as much out of each other as they could before it inevitably fell apart. As I stared at them I contemplated who was there for sex, money or both—scandalous I know. By the time they were seated, I had concluded my investigation; it was sex for the girl and money for the boy.

  The Host smiled at me, a glint of familiarity in his eye. Another thing about Sunset was the masks the wait staff wore. Intricate black lace dominos which made it hard to discern who was who by any more than their name tag. I recognized him from more than that glint, though, he was sidhe or at least part. His skin was like a porcelain doll’s that had a faint glow to it which knifed through the intimate gloom of the room beyond, his hair was black with highlights of the deepest blues and greens.

  Some might see him and think Unseelie right off the bat—the darker sidhe with powers over death, violence, sex and things of that nature—but there was something about the way he moved that made me want to guess that he wasn’t. Usually, dark hair and pale skin were a giveaway, but the green and blue made me think something calmer maybe a water deity or the child of one. His name tag said Muirchad, but I remembered from when he was a waiter that he pronounced it something like Morrow, so I referred to him as such instead of calling him Mur-Chad like so many others.

  “Unfortunately, we’re full. Unless you have a reservation, it’s going to be a twenty-minute wait.” He drummed his fingers on the host stand.

  “Shot in the dark here, but is there a reservation for Sterling? Probably a table for two in a section where no one could hear me scream for help if I needed it.”

  Morrow laughed, he had a great laugh—great smile too.

  “Right this way.”

  He led me to a section which had high fake trees wrapped in Ivy that acted as false walls blocking the table from the view of the others. Even though it was the afternoon it was startlingly dark, the only illumination coming from Morrow, the heater and the singular candle in the middle of the table.

  “Mr. Sterling says to tell you he will be here sooner than expected, and to order whatever you wish while waiting.”

  “Wonderful, can you please bring me some sparkling water with a lemon wedge in it.” I always felt ridiculously pretentious while ordering my non-alcoholic drink of choice. I liked sparkling water with lemon, but just saying it made me cringe inside.

  “Calliope will be your server, enjoy your meal.” Morrow placed a menu in front of me and the opposite empty seat and left.

  Deep down inside I was secretly hoping Calliope was some super hot vixen who would wrench Thorn’s interest from me. I felt like I was gambling, C’mon red head with glorious tits and an ass like a peach. I lost my gamble, the woman who brought me my drink was attractive but not Thorn’s type. Tall, zaftig and bottle blonde, Calliope would make some other man very happy but not Thorn. I felt like I couldn’t win, like the world was conspiring against me to make certain I couldn’t shake myself of this power hungry hanger on.

  Before I had a chance to wrap my hand around the glass, Morrow walked up with Thorn. I stood, we kissed, and he took his seat. Despite being the fascist I knew he was inside, he looked very good in his suit, and maybe even well rested—I guess some people are just born to attempt to force people to kneel before them. The suit was charcoal gray and impeccably tailored, the tie he wore was gray-blue and covered in tiny little black outlines of the House Sterling Crest.

  “That’s a very nice tie.”

  “Thank you.” He smoothed it and beamed at me.

  “Was it your father's?” The question hung in the air like the scent of blood, and he shifted in his seat for a while.

  “Yes. It was one of his favorites I think. I wanted him with me in spirit today—it was my first time running a board meeting. Between that and the press conferences my day has been crazy. I hope yours is better.”

  “Oh, I can’t complain. Just your run of the mill average day.”

  “We should get together for dinner. Someplace fancy, I want to show you off.” Great so I’m like a new car now. I guess it works, cars do kill more people per year than guns.

  “Won’t your family have something to say about it? Aren’t you Sterlings only supposed to date other powerful sorcerers?”

  “I’m the head of the House now, what I say goes. I say we’re together, so we’re together, fuck everyone else.”

  “Okay then. I take it I’ll have to wear something nice?”

  “Mhm, like that dress you wore the other night. I can’t get the image of you in it out of my head.” He scooted closer and put his hand on my thigh, I fought myself not to break his wrist—it was oh so tempting. “I don’t think anyone has ever looked so good.” His hand crept up my thigh—emphasis on creep—inching its way toward the apex of my body and I crossed my legs. Here I thought rich people had the sense not to grope others in public, silly me.

  “Save that for later. We don’t have time to do anything fun. You have to get back to the office, and I h
ave a meeting with some coworkers.” I wasn’t even lying exactly; I did have a meeting with some coworkers. They just weren’t the PI coworkers, nor did they know about the meeting.

  “Oh? Catch another case?”

  Calliope showed up and took our order. She devoured Thorn with her gaze like a prisoner after a hunger strike. Damnit woman! If only you hadn’t been blonde! She fawned over Thorn, and he largely ignored her minus that polite patrician niceness.

  “So?” He purred with a smile before sipping his gin and tonic.

  “I do work for commission.”

  “But you don’t have to.”

  “Is this where you give me another job offer?” I smirked running my fingers back through my hair.

  “Can you blame me for trying?” He lofted a brow and took a sip of his drink. “I have the means to make your life so much easier, you should let me help you.”

  “In the month that you’ve known me what makes you think that I’d take you up on that offer?”

  “Wishful thinking?” He flashed me a quick, brilliant smile and Calliope brought our food out. He had a salad with balsamic dressing on the side. I got an eight-ounce sirloin. Yes, I know red meat is terrible for me, but after spending the morning running after jackasses with the knowledge that I’d probably spend the rest of the day doing the same thing I needed protein desperately.

  “More like delusion.” I smirked before stuffing a piece in mouth. It tasted so good the noises I made were downright pornographic. “Oh, how’s your chest?”

  “Someone at the Gym said I looked like I had been mauled by a wild cougar.” He winked.

  “You do know I’m younger than you, right?”

  “I know.” He chuckled. “I like the ache; it reminds me of you.” His hand returned to my knee.

  “So when’s the service for your father?”

  “This weekend, we didn’t want to have it too close to Thanksgiving. Mom’s taking it really hard, and I just feel hollow inside. I don’t think it’s really sunk in that he’s gone. I haven’t really processed it yet. With running the company and handling family business I just have so much going on.”

  “Understandable.” I didn’t mention half of what I wanted to, part of me was dying to stand up and scream Liar! Liar! Liar! At the top of my lungs—but I didn’t. My phone buzzed, and I took it out, it was a text from Davy.

  - Blaine just pinged 2 blocks from you.

  “Shit, I’ve got that meeting,” I pushed my plate away and stood.

  “I guess I should get back to the office, too. Tonight, though, seven?”

  “Better make it eight just to be safe.” It might take me a while to kill your friends.

  I leaned in to kiss him, and he darted forward taking control of the situation as it were. His tongue forcefully probing my mouth, making me nip at his lips and tongue to regain my supremacy. The kiss lasted longer than it probably should have, and as my phone buzzed in my pocket I couldn’t help but think the only thought that made sense at that moment—He knows. Unfortunately for him, there wasn’t a dark corner on the earth that he could use to hide from me if he decided to run.

  When the kiss broke, he lingered close to me and stroked my cheek. Those silver eyes read nothing short of sadness. There’d be no dinner at eight tonight, unless he tried to use it kill me.

  “Things used to be so much simpler,” he whispered to my mouth, urging me to sit in his lap. I let him because a small sliver of my soul was drawn to him. It wasn’t all lust, it was something else similar to the possessiveness I felt toward Nate, only so much less, and so much more shallow. “Why don’t things ever stay simple?”

  “Because life isn’t simple, and people sure as fuck aren’t simple.”

  “I love you.” Those three little words almost caught in his throat. I slipped from his lap, and he grabbed me to stop me; as a reflex, I drew my Glock and aimed at his head. His hands loosened their grip, and he swallowed.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Not at first, but I do now. It’s why I’m physically hurting at the thought of what comes next.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “The fruition of all I’ve planned and sacrificed to obtain, something I was hoping to have you at my side for.”

  “So vague.”

  “I can’t tell you more, because if I did you’d pull the trigger and blow my brains out all over this nice Kandinsky print.” He gestured to the bold painting behind him before taking another sip from his glass, he had this whole wounded puppy aesthetic as he looked at me.

  “Damn skippy.”

  “But you won’t until you know everything because you’re not quite certain if I’m really the only one at the top.”

  “You place entirely too much faith in my doubt.”

  “I also know you wouldn’t kill an innocent person.”

  The restaurant grew deathly silent, and the only sound was the faint hiss of cars passing in the street. I glanced behind me and noticed that everyone in the restaurant was slowly advancing toward me. I didn’t often experience fear but watching everyone walk in unison toward me certainly ticked something that made my heart jump into my throat. The worst part of it was Thorn sitting there oozing sadness and ennui like a fucking beat poet or emo kid.

  “You’re no—” I didn’t even get to finish my thought.

  The twenty or so people overwhelmed me, knocking me to the floor. He was right about me not wanting to shoot innocent people—they couldn’t help it that he was using them as puppets. I fought them off as best as I could, but as one went down another was there, clawing, kicking, pulling, scratching, biting. They herded me toward those gates and after that initial panic wore off I turned exhaled sharply, forcing my ability to end all magic around me to actually do something for the first time in years. The people fell unconscious almost instantly from the shock of the abrupt loss of Thorn’s magical game of Simon Says.

  By the time I made my way back to the table Thorn was gone, he left his phone behind on the table, melted with the screen broken. I guess there’d be no dinner at eight and Thorn was firmly in the enemy category. Game on, motherfucker. I retrieved my Glock and Pico from the pile of unconscious bodies and tucked them back into their holsters before slipping my earpiece in my ear.

  “Cameo, call Davy.”

  “He’s on your block,” he shouted the instant the line connected.

  “What?”

  “Blaine is on your block.”

  I stepped out of the gate, and the brick beside my head exploded. “Shit,” I hissed. Ducking and zig-zagging I made my way across the street.

  “Talk to me, Rosie.”

  “Some asshole is shooting at me if you couldn’t tell by the gunshots.” I hugged the building across the street, and upon spying another all Black Charger that wasn’t the one I drove up in, I shot out the tires.

  “Well, you do tend to inspire that in people today.”

  “So funny.”

  “Okay, I just got in the CC feed. He’s going through the building.”

  “Fuck me.” I groaned before kicking down the locked door, it gave way revealing the stairs beyond. I hated walk-ups with a passion and wasn’t a huge fan of stairs in general while I had stitches holding my legs together. Still, I ran up them, meeting Blaine on the second floor. He ditched the rifle, which was smart because it could only slow him down. Just looking at him I could tell it wasn’t going to be easy, I knew he was going to bolt before he turned and dashed down the hall. I pursued him, even when he jumped through the window overlooking the alley, into the next building.

  One of his limbs caught on the glass, and left a nice trail of blood for me to follow. The blood loss was enough to slow him down and make him sluggish even through the adrenalin. The building was a blur. Whether I was climbing up or down was unknown to me. All I saw were those drops of red that I doggedly chased to their source, which stopped on the roof three buildings over from where everything began. I dropped him the second I opened the door, two
quick precisely aimed shots. His body fell limply into the garden there, coloring pretty white flowers with that brilliant shade of candy cherry red.

  “Blaine down,” I panted. My own leg was bleeding now, I could feel the tempertureless wetness soaking into my sock. “So we have two left, and Thorn.”

  “You’re really going to go after him?”

  “Eventually, though something tells me the last two won’t exactly be hiding.”

  “Come in and trade out your phone and earpiece just to be safe. I’ll give the Anubis the word to close the fist on the Sybils.”

  “Alright, take a nap. I’m going to rest for a little bit here, maybe pay Fiona a visit.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  “What the fuck does that even mean?”

  “It means I’m exhausted and out of pithy things to say.” He chuckled. “But I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “You seem off, what’s wrong? Is it Cis?”

  “No, it’s nothing. I’ll check in at five, that gives you two hours.”

  “One day, I promise you’ll get a full night’s sleep.”

  “That’d be nice.” He sighed. “Go get ‘em, tiger. Did that make sense?”

  “Mhm.” I ended the call and groaned thinking about the walk back down the six flights of stairs, but at least I was still alive, which was more than Blaine could say.

  Twenty-Three

  FIONA WAS CONSULTING for the police. When I found her, she was in the safest place anyone could be if they were in danger of being assassinated, or threatened with violence—surrounded by police at the local station.

  Seeing Fiona in a pantsuit with a pale blue blouse and stilettos seemed so wrong, kind of like watching a horse underwater or a giraffe in a tree. Somehow, I understood why she consulted with the police on top of everything else while being bewildered at the same exact time. It was how she coped with the absence of the hunt. She might not have killed them at the end, but she did take them out of society in another way. The bewilderment came from wondering when she did things like sleep.

  When she saw me, she made her way over, and we met in the middle of the bullpen.