With a sigh, I snatched the phone up, turned it on and focused on the half tangible sensation I associated with magic. Exhaling, I let my abilities trace over the spell, it was like a massive ball of yarn that seemed to expand forever in a never ending pattern of tight loops and twists that linked people spread all throughout the city together. As I unmade the spell, it revealed its purpose to me. Thorn had cast it to bend the faction separating from the Cult of Isis to his whims.
It all started with a simple idea. They thought that those whom Isis gave life to bring balance were too powerful to live. Thorn fed off that idea, warping it to bring them all to heel using the micro triggers like shock collars for bad dogs who refused to obey their owners. I freed all of them from his sway and afterward I didn’t feel at all like I thought I would. I had expected to be exhausted, near to the point of falling over; instead, I felt energized like I finished twenty shots of espresso.
“So, about the personal issue?”
I scrunched my nose and stuffed the phone back into my coat pocket. Deep down inside I had secretly wished that she forgot about it.
“You know how I have closeness issues, right?”
“Mhm.”
“Nate, the guy who owns The Muffin Man, seems to not want to acknowledge the fact that I can’t get close to him like he wants to be close to me. On that note, is Abby seeing anyone?”
“Abby isn’t seeing someone, but I don’t think you should be so quick to try and pawn him off. Give him a chance. Who knows, you might surprise yourself.”
“Or I might accidently on purpose stab him for the fourth time.”
“Fourth time?”
“Yup and one of those times was a few weeks ago when I kind of tortured him to get information.”
“So, you tortured him, and stabbed him—”
“And broke one of his fingers.”
“And broke one of his fingers and somehow he’s still your friend?”
“He gets that I’m not exactly normal.”
“Are you familiar with the phrase ‘lock that shit down’?” She snickered, and I rolled my eyes.
“I’m setting him up with Abby.”
“Fine. But that’s not going to stop him from feeling what he does for you.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Though, chances are it’ll distract him. Besides, he deserves someone who hasn’t stabbed him three times, tortured him and broken one of his fingers. Someone who can return the feelings he gives them. Someone who won’t just use him as a backscratcher.”
“Backscratcher?”
“You know, something you use to scratch an itch you can’t reach on your own.”
She laughed. “Gotcha. I hate to kick you out, but I have to open up the store in a few hours.”
“Alright, thanks for everything Tabs.”
“Don’t mention it. I like to help; I rarely get to break out the magical theory unless I’m talking to you or Fiona.” I left shortly after checking the time on my phone as I walked out to the car. It was only four in the morning. It was like time itself had a vendetta against me.
The momentary high from breaking the spell was over, leaving me as exhausted as I should have been given my last twenty-four hours. By some stroke of luck, I made it back to the hotel room in one piece only to collapse back into the bed beside Nate. In his sleep, he pulled my arm around him, forcing me to be his big spoon. Again, I pressed my forehead to the tattoo at the back of his neck and snuggled close.
“How did it go?” He groggily groaned, glancing back at me.
“It went,” I yawned. “Magic gibberish.”
He chuckled and kissed my knuckles. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Thornton put a spell on the cult, I broke it. Now I’m going to pass out, so shh.”
It felt good to lay there with my arms wrapped around him, to smell his scent of spice, vanilla, and musk with just a hint of gun oil and blood. His warmth was familiar and comforting, but I didn’t want it to lose that safe quality; I knew it would go away if we wandered down the fuck-buddy trail.
Eventually, he’d get sick of the fact that I couldn’t return what he wanted to give me with sincerity. We could stay friends but never anything more; it was why I left him before and why I was going to have to push him away again. It didn’t bother me as much as it would others, a normal person would have sat there and fallen asleep lamenting his impending loss. I didn’t. Instead, I could enjoy his warmth for what it was and focus on my next step. In the morning, after I found a new Sybil I’d start my search for where Thorn might have gone.
Twenty-Seven
WHEN I FINALLY woke up, I felt like a truck had backed over me a few times. Everything hurt, my whole body was one big throbbing pulse of pain. Groaning, I pulled the comforter over my head and settled against Nate’s heat. He was awake and pretending not to be, I could tell by his breathing. I nudged him and his eyes fluttered open.
“Morning,” he purred with a lazy smile.
“Do you feel as awful as I do?”
“Probably.” He chuckled and rubbed his stomach with a wince. “I think I’m getting too old to be a Shadow.”
“Lies.” I slid out of bed and limped my way to my luggage. I always traveled with a nice supply of varying degrees of painkillers. This was an Ibuprofen kind of morning, but I had Vicodin in my future.
“I enjoy it. But I make enough from the bakery, and it’s something I can do for the rest of my life. As long as, I don’t eat too much of my cheesecake.”
“See, both are bad for your health.” I snickered, took out a few pills from the bottle and grabbed two juices from the mini-bar. Returning to the bed, I handed three pills to Nate and a bottle of juice; he took them with a grin.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if you moved in.”
I laughed as I tossed the pills in my mouth and washed it down with the orange juice.
“Are you fucking delusional?” I asked, watching him take the ibuprofen.
“I prefer to think of myself as optimistic.” He beamed at me before slipping out of bed. After setting his half empty bottle down, he pulled his shirt back on.
“Apparently delusional and optimistic are synonyms to you.” I flashed him a smile.
“Don’t act like you wouldn’t like to wake up this way every morning.”
I snorted. “Maybe if I actually was able to sleep?” The phone in my pocket buzzed, and I jumped like a scared cat. Nate laughed at me as I fished it out and peered down at it. The notification was an alarm that I turned off, it had a label—Pick up 4.
“Why do you need a burner?”
“It’s not mine.” Pursing my lips, I sat back down on the edge of the bed.
“Going to give me more than that?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, well I’m going to take a shower. Don’t leave before I get out?” I laughed as I swiped through the phone again. “At least yell goodbye?”
“Sure, why not.” I didn’t look up, he walked over and kissed my forehead. The gesture won my attention, I stared up at his happy face hopelessly confused. You, sir, are more affectionate than normal. My guess was he had a very close call. A brush with death could make even the merely marginally normal, such as Nate, do silly things like cling desperately to those in their lives they hold dear. I placed my hands on his broad shoulders while still holding the phone. “You’re still alive.”
His lips twitched. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little. You’re just doing this shit because you want to assure yourself of your… livingness. Find someone for a quickie, and you’ll be right as rain again.” I let my hands slip from him and fall into my lap.
Growling, he rubbed his face standing up straight. “I think that is the only thing that rubs me the wrong way about you.” He chuckled shaking his head, turning from me as he started his trek to the bathroom.
“That’s the only thing? Not the fact that I have to play six degrees of separation to find normal emotions?”
“You’re being in
tentionally obtuse.”
“Am not.”
His laughter continued as he turned the shower on, and I watched from the bed as he stripped off his pants and boxers. The light was more than kind to him, highlighting every ounce of hard, lean muscle on his body with just enough shadow to make him look more like a sculpture than reality—minus the scars, scabs, and other wounds. That achingly perfect, familiar body was just as bruised and stitched up as mine. The difference was that Nate had the luxury of taking a break—I did not.
“I think I’m going to invite Abby to Thanksgiving,” I added returning my attention to the phone.
“Knit Happens Abby?”
“Yeah. I think you two would click.”
“Rose…” He didn’t finish his thought, he just sighed long and loud.
“Yes?”
“Nothing, I look forward to seeing her.” And nipped in the bud! Thank fuck all at least this worked out.
“Good, I’ll te—” Buried in Red-Scarf’s email, under about seventy messages not caught by his spam folder advertising for hot barely legal pussy, and penis enlargement, was one from an actual person.
From: 4
To: Me
Date: Yesterday
Subject: Tomorrow
7:30 A.M. 72341 B Collins Avenue
I glanced at the clock on the little bar at the top of the screen. It was six forty-five. The sane and rational part of my brain urged me to let it go—that there’d be other leads. The vengeance-fueled rage monster deep within me, however, was not so calm and collected. It was chomping at the bit, and foaming at the mouth—needless to say, I gave in to it. I could still make it there in time to see this 4 person. I wanted it to be Thorn desperately, just so I could beat the shit out of him.
“I’ll send a text to her later.” I grabbed my phone and Glock off the table, checked the magazine and slipped it back into my inner pants holster. As much as I normally hated sleeping in clothes, I didn’t mind it so much this time. “I’m heading out.”
“If you need Cis, he’s all yours.”
“Thanks.”
“Be safe.”
“Will do. Enjoy your day off.”
I rolled my eyes, grabbed another clip out of my suitcase and tucked it into the pocket of my peacoat. Something at the pit of my stomach was nagging me, so I grabbed an extra clip just to be safe. It made sense for Thorn to be in the Collins District. Most people would figure that would be the last place I’d look. What he did was tantamount to hiding in the lair of the monster he was running from. Little did he know was all it had accomplished was pissing me off just that much more.
****
Usually, the drive would have calmed my nerves. The opposite seemed to be the case as I zipped down the highway, dodging and weaving my way in and out of traffic like I was in the Indy 500.
My hands were white-knuckled on the wheel as I sped onto Collins Avenue. I drifted onto the lawn, destroying what was left of the grass instead of parking like a normal person. Getting out of the car I didn’t even bother with protocol, I didn’t put my earpiece in, and I didn’t call a Sybil, I just drew my Glock and chambered a round.
Heading for the up the walk, I was a tiny ball of hate and rage as I kicked down the door. That’s right, I kicked down the door. Thanks to television and movies, most don’t realize that shouldering into a door is a bad idea; nine times out of ten, that only accomplishes dislocating the shoulder that hits the door. So, it was a kick, well placed right between the knob and the trim that set the jamb sailing into the living room in splinters and the door flinging wide open.
“Surprise Motherfucker!” I yelled firing at Thorn three times the instant he came into view.
Again, the bullets stopped short, and dropped to the ground without impacting anything. To say it was anticlimactic would have been an understatement. I snarled in rage, and tackled him onto the coffee table. The wooded snapped under the impact of our two bodies slamming together, sending us to the floor.
He grunted, and fought me for my gun. I fired at him point-blank, and again the bullets just dropped to the ground. Fucking Sorcerer.
We rolled through the remnants of the table as he fought to control my wrist with one hand, and hold me away from his neck with the other. His legs attempted to pin mine, but I was finally better than someone at wrestling. I wiped out his shields with my power and fired at his face. Once again, the bullet fell to the floor like it never even left the gun. He was good, too good. So good I wouldn’t be able to kill him with firearms. He grabbed my gun by the barrel and tossed it into the air where it disassembled itself, falling to the floor in pieces.
Groping behind me, I grabbed a piece of the broken coffee table, and smacked him with it. The crack of the wood hitting his cheek made me cringe as he staggered backward holding his face. It gave me time to stand, and swing the makeshift bat at his head again. At the last moment, he kicked my legs out from under me, sending me backward onto the carpet, knocking the air from my lungs. I rolled to standing as fast as I could, attempting to put some distance between us. I had clearly underestimated Thorn’s abilities. He didn’t let me get far, his hand was on my ankle in no time, pulling me toward him at an angle. Oh, he was smart. I had to give him that, most would have practically gift wrapped the opening to kick him in face, he didn’t.
Darting forward, I delivered a swift punch to his jaw, that he returned with equal speed. We grappled more, neither of us gaining much ground between the pop shots that we took at each other. Somehow, we had relocated to the kitchen. We slipped, slithered, and skidded against one another across the grimy linoleum, speckling the sunshine yellow and dog poop brown with bright crimson.
With the addition of cabinets around us, I was able to use my agility to my advantage, bounding off the little doors as we struggled for dominance. He used his powers a handful of times, sending furniture and kitchen appliances flying across the room like a bad b-movie poltergeist. None of the items reached us, it was my turn to frustrate him with the added bonus of siphoning the energy from each spell I shut down, which held my exhaustion at bay.
Victory was in sight as I was able to flip him, pinning him to the ground with my forearm braced against his throat. With my free arm, I groped on top of the counter, grabbing the first object I could—the toaster. It was one of the flimsy plastic ones, but it would do the trick.
“R-rose,” He choked out after the first blow landed, blood gushed from that perfect little nose as I broke it. The noises he made with every impact tickled all the right places inside of me. Everything around me faded into nothingness, all that mattered was revenge.
“Rose!” a familiar voice yelled, I ignored it and kept beating Thorn. He wasn’t dead yet, and I could still make out that it was him under all the red—so I was far from done. “Rose!” That voice shouted. Someone grabbed my hair, I spun around and clocked them across the jaw with the dripping, cracked, and broken toaster.
When I noticed it was the Anubis I had hit, I gasped a little, letting the appliance drop to the floor. Oops. He rubbed his jaw, wiping away the blood that wasn’t his own. He was dressed in an immaculately tailored black wool coat, with a black scarf wrapped around his throat, and a fedora perched atop his head. The only thing that he wore which wasn’t black were his gloves, they were a medium shade of gray.
“I can’t let you can’t kill him,” he declared in that deep, gravelly voice.
“Bullshit!” I screamed. “He’s a contract!”
“No, he’s not.”
“You told me to solve our problem! I’m solving it!”
“The Camera Umbra appreciates everything you’ve done, but you need to let this go.”
“Let it go? Do you even hear what the fuck you’re saying?”
“The Camera Umbra has decided. Judgment has been leveled…”
“He killed his fucking father.”
“We know.”
“He can mind control fucking nulls!”
“We know that too.”
>
With a scream of frustration, I grabbed the toaster from the floor and hurled it through the window over the sink, shattering the glass.
“He’s the reason Davy is in the fucking infirmary!”
“Trust me, Rose. This isn’t what I want either, but it’s the will of the Camera Umbra, so it’s the will of the Order of Shadows.”
“But what if their will is compromised?”
“It doesn’t matter. This is official; he won. Let him have his victory for now, he knows we’ll be watching.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s turned himself into a Vampiric Prince without the vampirism and instead of only controlling vampires he controls everyone—and I do mean everyone. From the northernmost point in Canada to the southern tip of Chile; Thornton has his fingers in everyone’s cookie jar. He’s demonstrated just enough power to scare those in authority sufficiently shitless to follow him, but not call for his head. Which even I admire to some degree, but everyone draws a line.” He looked passed me to Thornton who was slowly sitting up. “We acquiesce to all terms, Mr. Sterling, save one. The Order of Shadows will not gift you Rosaline Black as a hostage.”
“Hostage?” I growled and kicked Thorn as hard as I could.
“Indeed.” The Anubis pulled a folded piece of paper and a needle tip pen out of his coat and set them on the counter. Just looking at the pen and that oddly textured parchment made me remember being eight when I pricked my finger with the pen and used it to sign my name in the book of Shadows. “We’ll need your signature in blood to finish the deal.” The Anubis chuckled, “Though it seems there’s enough of that laying around.”
“Fuck all of this!” I started to storm off.
“Rose!” Thorn called after me, but I ignored it and continued on my way. It was the Anubis who caught up to me and closed the car door as I opened it.
“If he breaches the contract, you will be the one to carry it out. I promise.”
“House Sterling three, Order of Shadows zero. He used to me to demonstrate to everyone the world the fuck over that no one is safe from him, and not even the Shadows can stop him.”
Camera Obscura (A Novel of Shadows Book 1) Page 25