Camera Obscura (A Novel of Shadows Book 1)

by Christina Quinn

  “Rose!” Cis shouted. “Behind—”

  Something hit me over the head hard, and out I went—do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. There was nothing but darkness.

  ****

  “Fuck me.” I groaned, peeling myself off that shiny dark floor in Thorn’s apartment. The door was open but other than that everything was the same as it was when I was knocked unconscious—minus the broken statue on the ground beside me and the wine glass sitting in the sink.

  “Thank god, you’re awake!” Cis practically screamed.

  “Yeah, something like that.” I rubbed my head. “How long was I out for?”

  “Fifteen minutes give or take, the cleaners are on their way up.”

  As much as my head throbbed, I couldn’t ignore the fact that Thorn was gone and more than likely in the wind. Still, I made my way back into the bedroom and searched through Red Scarf’s pockets for his phone. I was naively hoping for some clue to where Thorn might have gone, there was a part of me that acknowledged I had missed my window of opportunity, but I optimistically went through the dead werewolf’s texts as the cleaners showed up all the same.

  “Nate’s calling in.”

  “It’s okay, I’m done for the night. Thanks, Cis.”

  “Any ti—” I ended the call and took my ear piece out.

  Heading for the maintenance stairs, I went through all the crap on the werewolf’s phone—including, unfortunately, numerous dick pics. Amid all the garbage, I discovered something; a text that made no sense what so ever, it said: “Roses are Red.” I could feel the residue of a spell that came and went whenever I opened that text. I didn’t think magic could be sent via text message, but then again until I saw it with my own two eyes, I hadn’t thought a Sorcerer could force a null to do something against their will. Needless to say, whenever I woke up from the impending coma that was certainly in my future, I was going to take a trip to Merlin’s Beard.

  ****

  The cold air felt amazing as I walked out of the parking garage. Outside the gate was someone leaning against their car—a black charger. My mind went directly to the conspiracy and my hand to my Glock. It was just that kind of day and part of me almost welcomed the possibility of dying in a hail of gunfire. But when I neared, I lowered my gun as I realized who it was.

  Nate looked just as bad as I felt. One of those amazingly normal blue-green eyes was partially swollen shut, his bottom lip was split, and the collar of his shirt that peeked up from under his coat was splattered with droplets of blood.

  The moment I tucked my gun away he darted for me and pulled me into his arms, holding me tight against his hard body. I winced as he crushed me in his embrace.

  “Stitches,” I hissed, and his grip loosened. He didn’t say anything. For the longest he just held me under the streetlight, rocking me back and forth. My hands slowly folded around his waist, I did it because it was the response he expected. The entire time I couldn’t relax, all I could do was think about what Cis had said when I was on that roof waiting for Emmanuelle. “I’ve gotta get back to the Manor.”

  “No, you’re coming home with me,” he murmured against my neck, and I rolled my eyes.

  “The safest place right now is the Manor.”

  “Tell that to Davy.”

  “Oh, I will—the moment he wakes up.”

  “It’s not safe.”

  “Then I’m going to my hotel room.” I twisted away from him.

  “Why won’t you let me worry about you?”

  I ran my fingers back through my hair and sighed. “You can worry, but not ‘you’re coming home with me’ worry. I can’t do this right now, I physically can’t. I went after Emmanuelle and ended up fighting her hand to fucking hand. Then I had to fight a fucking werewolf hand to hand, and I swear to fuck-all-mighty that I’d rather do those two things at once than deal with this right now, Nate.” I stretched my back and groaned. “I’m glad to see that you’re okay, but I can’t do this… I can’t. Certainly not right fucking now.”

  He smirked and nodded a bit. “Let me drive you to your hotel?”

  “I’m fine to drive.”

  “Can I spend the night?” I glared at him. “In a purely protective, I’m worried about my friend way.”

  “Fine. But if you try anything—with the mood I’m in—you’re going to get stabbed again.”

  “I’ve been stabbed twice today, what’s one more time?” He chuckled, flashing me a grin.

  “I’m at the Cheshire Grand, Room 223.” I started walking toward my car. When I got there, I tossed Red Scarf’s phone into the glove box and sent a text to Tabs to set up a meeting. Then and only then did I drive the six blocks to the hotel.

  ****

  When I got to my room I found Nate standing outside, he looked worse under the bright fluorescent lights. His bruises popped in sickly yellow-green-violet in the blue tinted glow. Knowing someone else had a shit day like mine made me smile as I opened the door and flicked on the lights.

  “How was Cleveland?” I asked as Nate locked the door behind him.

  “About as bad as I remember. The werewolf clans there are still a hot steaming mess. Next time I have a contract that comes up, and it says anything about werewolves in Cleveland I’m going to trade with someone.” Nate sat on the bed, and I walked into the bathroom and stripped down.

  “You know the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result.” I turned on the water for the tub. Nate walked in behind me and turned it off.

  “You have fresh stitches,” he chided me, as he pulled the curtain closed and turned on the shower. I will not shoot Nate. I took a deep breath.

  I will not shoot Nate. The mantra repeated in my head even as I climbed into the hot water. I moaned as the warmth cascaded down my body. What circled the drain was tinted red, I clearly hadn’t gotten all the blood off me at Fiona’s—or it could have been new blood, maybe backsplash from shooting Mr. Red-Scarf.

  “So, I started my day with my cover being blown. That was fun.” Nate chuckled as I soaped up my hair. “I had to ditch my phone and go dark. But I got my Contract down quicker than I thought, it almost makes up for getting stabbed twice.”

  “How’d you get found out?”

  “Leo let it leak to a contact he has out there. Needless to say, I’m going to have a word with him next time I’m at the Manor.”

  “I kind of beat you to it.”

  “Oh?”

  “Mhm, he was working for Thornton.”

  “What?” His disbelief was so tangible I could have tangoed on it.

  “I completely forgot that you’ve been in Cleveland since Saturday.” I took a deep breath and told him everything—minus the parts where Cis told me to stay away from him. By the time I finished the explanation I was just sitting in the water for the warmth.

  “All of this shit is that asshole’s fault?”

  “Yeppers, and he’s probably on his way out of the fucking country as we speak.”

  “He’s the CEO of a fortune five hundred company; I’m pretty sure he’ll pop up within a month tops. What about the Cult angle?”

  “What about it? It was just bullshit to mask what he was really up to.” I turned off the water, and he handed me the big fluffy bathrobe.

  “Are you sure about that? The Anubis personally asked me to infiltrate the Cult to see what they were up to. They’ve been acting weird since Isis went on her progress.”

  “Sounds like a pretty good distraction to me.” I snorted and stepped out of the shower, Nate was leaning against the sink.

  “Probably because with the day you’ve had you just want it to all be over.”

  “Mhm.” I beamed at him and pulled the soft white terry cloth hood up. I’m so taking this when I check out.

  “I don’t blame you, Rose. I really don’t. But it looks like there’s a little more to it than just a distraction. How did he get so much influence over them in the first place?”

&
nbsp; “Shh!” I hissed, leaving the bathroom and crawling on the big comfortable bed. “I’m going to sleep. You can join me on the bed, leave or sleep on that chair over there but I’m done for the night. Done.” He nodded and stripped his shirt off before joining me under the warm covers. Before the blanket lowered, I raised it again.

  Canting my head to the side, I stared down at the two neatly stitched wounds and the myriad of shallow scratches that had already scabbed over. I placed my hand over the wounds and smiled up at him before resuming our normal sleeping arrangement with him as the little spoon. Our guns rested on the nightstands next to each of our phones, mine looked in bad shape, the plastic was scuffed in numerous places. His looked new by comparison, then again Nate always had this thing about never allowing himself to be disarmed.

  “So why are you really here?” I whispered, pressing my forehead against the tattoo at the nape of his neck, the one just like mine that marked him as a Shadow. I tried to keep my voice neutral, but a tinge of hostility snuck in.

  “I was worried about you.”

  “Ah.” I didn’t know what to say or do. I just kind of laid there half sprawled across him hoping that he forgot that I had asked the question.

  “Is there something wrong with that?”

  I took a breath. “As long as you realize I can barely even offer you friendship.”

  “Even friends worry, especially after the day you’ve had.”

  “Okay, but no funny business.”

  “You have my word.”

  “Good. Now shut the fuck up so I can sleep.” I slipped my hand over his mouth, coaxing a chuckle from his lips that was muffled by my hand. He didn’t say anymore and eventually I was able to somehow force myself to sleep.

  Twenty-Six

  EXHAUSTED AS I was, I somehow couldn’t stay asleep. Two hours after I laid down I found myself awake, staring at the blue glow from the clock that laughed at me as it read 2:30 AM. Nate was blissfully unconscious, making sleep seem so effortless. It’s just not fucking fair. Wrenching my arm from his grasp, I slid out of bed, and got dressed. Since my brain refused to cooperate, I’d rain on everyone’s parade, starting with Tabs.

  - Are you awake? I texted her before getting dressed. It was nice to have on my own clothes again. As always, I wore dark jeggings, but today the top I wore was a dark red turtleneck sweater. It was cold out, and my jacket needed to be cleaned at the dry cleaners in the Manor—no one else could get the blood smell out quite like them. My phone buzzed as I picked out the coat I’d wear in the tundra-esque cold. Deciding on the black wool peacoat with its large hood, I checked my phone.

  - Awake as anyone can be @ 2 AM

  - I really have to talk to you about something. It’s urgent.

  - Come over. Jon’s dealing with family business.

  - See you in a bit. I replied before tucking the phone into my pocket. On my way to the door, I paused and looked at Nate. Habit won out, and I nudged him until he groaned into consciousness.

  “I’m going to pay Tabs a visit.”

  “Rosie, come back to bed.” He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles, the scab from his split lip was jarringly rough when compared to the silk of the unmarred skin.

  “I can’t. Enjoy the continental breakfast.” I twisted my hand from his grip.

  “Give me a sec, I’ll go with you.”

  “No, go back to sleep. I’ll come back when I’m done.”

  He righted the comforter over his bare shoulders. “Fine, but if something happens call me okay?”

  “If I call anyone it’ll be you.” I patted his side and left before he could say anything else.

  Heading down the hall the non-answer I gave him stuck with me more than it probably should have. Maybe I should have let him come with me? What harm could it have done? I respected Nate, and he was damn good at what we did. As I stood in the elevator, I made up my mind that leaving without him was the right decision.

  ****

  It was a little after three when I finally reached Tabs’s house, a quaint little Dutch colonial in the middle of the trendy Carriage historic district. Honestly, it was a nice place, and I preferred it to the cookie cutter houses in the subdivisions. Her yard was big and had two huge oaks that looked menacing with their bare branches clacking in the harsh wind. Tabs opened the door before I could knock, she smiled and welcomed me in without a word.

  Inside, the home was just as quaint as the outside and had the smell of an old library. The walls were literally lined with bookcases to the point where I couldn’t tell if they covered in paint or wallpaper. Pictures covered every surface that didn’t have a book on it. Her and Jon in various places throughout the world on vacation.

  “Coffee?” she asked as she plodded her way to the kitchen.

  “Yes, please.”

  “I don’t think Jon’s coming back this time.” The comment was so random I almost didn’t catch the impact of those few words.

  “Did you guys fight?”

  “It’s been somewhat of an endless fight since our anniversary.” She poured coffee into two mugs and took some creamer out of the fridge. “All I have is peppermint mocha; I hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine.” I smiled and approached the counter trying to navigate this minefield. I didn’t want to piss her off, but I didn’t know how to react. I knew what was expected so I said it, “I’m sorry to hear about you and Jon.”

  “Well, you didn’t come here to listen to me whine about my relationship issues. What do you need?” She took a sip of her coffee.

  “What did you fight about if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Jon wants kids.” This is what I get for trying to be human.

  “Oh. Even with everything that’s gone on?”

  She nodded. “But I don’t think it matters anymore. Like I said I don’t think he’s coming back.”

  “Put your foot down?”

  “Very firmly.” She laughed a little and blew on her steaming coffee. “C’mon, out with your problem.”

  “It’s a magic question.”

  “I figured as much.”

  My mouth hung open for a few seconds. Might as well try out this friend thing. “There’s a personal question too.”

  “Oh?”

  “Do you want to start with that?” I sipped my drink. All hail caffeine the sweet giver of sustenance.

  “Let's do the magic stuff first. I think I need a break from the personal drama and to turn on my logical brain for a bit.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes.

  “Alright, could a sorcerer magically encrypt a text?”

  “Like a text message?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tabs pursed her lips for a few seconds and exhaled for a while, the breath hissing between her teeth.

  “Maybe. I’d need to see the text and the phone.”

  I pulled Red-Scarf’s phone from my pocket and brought up the text message and held it out to her.

  “There you go.”

  She took the phone and inspected it before pulling what I thought was a chopstick from her bun—it was really her wand. Her long dreads tumbled down over her shoulders as she whispered some words and waved her wand at the phone.

  “Interesting,” she said in a voice that barely registered as sound. “I need to look at this under a Magiscope.”

  She started walking away, and I followed her to her darkened study. I knew what a Magiscope was, but I had never seen one up close and personal. Hers looked to be an antique. It was all golden levers and arms with filigree and ornate numbering complete with polished mirrors, crystals, and lenses instead of computer screens. I knew they could look like all-in-one printers now, the fact that Tabs’s was old as it was didn’t surprise me in the slightest. She set the phone on a wooden pedestal and waved her wand. With each flick of her wrist and sweep of her hand, the apparatus moved and lenses clicked into place but other than that it looked like a big old pile of nothing to me.

  “Hmm… yeah, just as I thought.”
She swept her hair back up into a bun and pinned the wand in to secure it. “There is a spell in the text message, it’s a micro trigger.”

  “A what now?”

  “If a magic user—a Wizard or a Sorcerer specifically—wanted to control a large group of people over vast distances they’d cast what’s known as a blanket spell; it’s large far-reaching and covers everything. To keep the spell active every so often they’d need to reassert their dominant will over the other party, which is where the micro trigger comes in. And this is good work. Whoever did this, they aren’t only powerful but their ability to weave spells is astounding.”

  “Can you break the blanket spell?”

  “No, their weave is too complex. I could try, but more than likely I’d end up just wrapping myself in it, too. But you might be able to.”

  “How, exactly?”

  “You’re a minus null, which means you technically do have power. I wrote a paper on it years ago, minus nulls aren’t true nulls. You wield anti-magic. Everything in the universe exists in dualities, and the opposite of magic isn’t not having magic, it’s anti-magic. See when a magic user unravels a spell, we send the magic back where it came from. When a minus null breaks a spell, that power doesn’t return to the person who cast it. It ceases to exist as far as we can tell. But we know that can’t quite happen, Newton’s laws do apply to magic. Matter Transmutation can only take what’s already there. Even forcing someone to act against their will is manipulating the chemical signals in the brain…” She kept talking, but my eyes glassed over. I only half understood what she was saying. Davy would have loved the lecture; he was well versed in Magical Theory—I was not.

  “What you're saying is that if I broke the spell, he wouldn’t know it was broken?”

  “Exactly.”

  “How can I do it—minus the magical theory mumbo-jumbo?”

  “Hold it in your hand, feel the tendrils of the spell and trace it back to its origin.”

  “Tendrils?”

  “You can feel the spell, right?”

  “I feel something.”

  “Use your power on that, slowly feel out all of its nuances and will them to stop existing.” Way to be vague as hell Tabs.