Camera Obscura (A Novel of Shadows Book 1)

by Christina Quinn

  ****

  After sitting home alone for about an hour, I decided to call someone that I probably shouldn’t have. One of the only Executioners I would have called a friend—if I was capable of having them—Nate. Out in the everyday world, Nate wasn’t what someone thought of when they heard the term Shadow. He was kind, polite, and the very definition of a gentleman. He wore glasses and owned a bakery where he knew all his customers’ names. The cover for his injuries was that he took MMA classes. He had such a happy and friendly demeanor out in the every day. But when it came to his work as a Shadow his Dr. Jekyll turned into Mr. Hyde. Something mean in him lurked under all that soft fluffy happiness. I thought for the longest that he just liked to pretend his humanity still existed. But the more time I spent with him the further certainty seemed from my grasp.

  He did have a good mind for puzzles and seeing threads and connections that others—such as myself—often missed. I would admit that I did bump uglies with him in the past, but it had been over a year since I had asked him to come over for that. Still, he picked up too quickly for my liking.

  “Hey you.”

  “Nate. Are you free?”

  “For you? Always.”

  “It’s business.”

  “Any excuse to spend some time with you is a good one. I’ll bring some of that spice cake you like and some wine.”

  “Nate I sai—you’re not alone are you?”

  “Just ringing up my last customer. Be there before you can blink. Miss you.” Beep. The call ended, and I felt my stomach twist at the prospect of the massive error inviting Nate over might prove itself to be. Mistake or not, staring at his sexy ass for a few hours would distract me enough from Thorn to, with some luck, stop me from acting like a jackass around him.

  ****

  Thirty minutes later, Nate was at my door standing almost a good foot over me, looking fit as always in his well-tailored thick peacoat. His eyes were naturally large, and the addition of the black rimmed glasses made them look even bigger, they were a very ordinary shade of blue-green. After being blasted by Sidhe and other faeries without glamor all day, that muted mixing of hues made me smile. As always, his chin was covered in dark stubble which matched his hair, but now a few speckles of gray had appeared here and there—though he was only a handful of years older than me.

  “Fun day?” He asked, looking me over as I stepped out of his way.

  “You could say that.” I locked the door, and he set the wine and cake box on the kitchen island.

  “I’m glad you made it out alive and called me.”

  “It—”

  “Even if it’s not a booty call.” He chuckled and went through my kitchen like he owned the place, grabbing two wine glasses from the top cabinet. “Have someone staying with you?” Not the dreaded pissing contest.

  “Yup. Does it matter? This isn’t a booty call.” I opened the box and purred as the scent of the spice cake filled my nostrils. “But thank you for the wine and cake.”

  “No problem. I moved out of the manor.”

  “Well look at you, finally leaving the nest at thirty-four.” I teased him as he pulled down two plates.

  “You inspired me. Before I saw your place, I didn’t think a Shadow living on their own was a good idea. But you make it work.”

  “How’s Cis?” Cis was short for Cicero who was his Sybil, they were close.

  “He and Davy broke up last week.”

  “Davy hasn’t seemed particularly sad.”

  “That’s because Davy was the one that ended it, and you’re rubbing off on him. We don’t have to be cold people, Rose.” He took the cake box from me and walked into the living room carrying the plates, forks, wine glasses and wine bottle with the cake box’s twine balanced on a finger.

  “You’re right nulls don’t have to be cold. But I’m not a null, as everyone keeps conveniently forgetting.”

  “Haven’t you ever wanted to have a connection with someone?” He portioned out two slices of cake as I plopped down on the couch.

  “Get out.” I crossed my arms and glowered at him. “And leave the cake.”

  “Fine. I’ll change subjects. Why did you call me?”

  “I was working a case, and I found out it’s… the term massive conspiracy comes to mind.”

  He laughed and took off his coat before taking out his gun and setting on the table beside the bottle of wine. “Nothing’s ever that bad.”

  “Oh, you are in for a treat then.”

  “New gun?”

  “Nope. This is Tammy Castella’s.” I gestured to the Desert Eagle on the table.

  “I take it that it’s part of the massive conspiracy. Should I put on a tin foil hat before you start?”

  “Ha. Ha.” I snatched up a glass of wine and took a sip. “Okay, I’m only telling you this because I trust you. That and I know you’ve not followed through on a contract before. Three months ago, I got the contract on the Sterling heir. I’m a lot more hands on than you are. I assessed him and in the process found no visible wrong doing, so I dragged my feet a bit on the kill thinking that eventually some sign of criminal activity would reveal itself. Nothing did. Thornton Sterling IV turned out to be just a normal guy. At first, I resolved just to get it over with because maybe the Camera Umbra knew something I didn’t. While I lured him out to the balcony vampires practically stormed the place, and I decided to keep him alive.”

  “Ah.”

  “I got the file from Davy, the full file. There’s nothing in there, it’s pretty much the exact same as the one they supposedly sent me.”

  “Supposedly?”

  “Shh! So, I close out Iris Evans and go back to work. And my day is nothing but missing persons’ cases; heirs of the local preternatural communities that have gone missing. Today, I finally got around to talking to Fiona, she caught one too—the Van Ard heir. Her morgue contact got back to her, the boy’s dead. I talked to Tabs, and she says something about the Cult of Isis. And right while I’m leaving Knit Happens I get a QK when conveniently everyone’s checked in at forty minutes out. It was a werewolf going apeshit on a bunch of people outside of Petite Fleur. I’m completely convinced that it was a Berserker who had their food spiked. So, I put them down and head right for Castella’s only to find Tammy locked in her office with Audrey and Thorn…ton…and various others. They shot some Patrick kid and knocked the kitchen staff guy out. The vans they used tracked back to IPX which isn’t part of Faust and Trust so… huge whopping dead end.” I downed my glass and took an immodest forkful of cake.

  Nate sipped his wine, then swirled it around in his glass. I could practically feel him thinking. “IPX is worth considering, I had the Van Ard kid. But like you, I dragged my feet because it just didn’t feel right. I hate the concept of intuition, but it just seemed wrong. I didn’t kill him. But while keeping an eye on him a group of guys came, beat the shit out of him, and stuffed him in the back of a van that Cis tracked back to IPX. I didn’t look into it further because I thought at worse someone just kidnapped him for ransom, and at best whatever he got into was catching up to him. I’m going to have Cis pull the full file.” He took out his phone dialed a number and pressed it to his ear. “Hey, Cis! Can you do me a favor and pull the full file on Van Ard? Awesome. You’re the best. Yeah, I’ll bring you some double chocolate ones tomorrow. Later.” He pressed end.

  “Don’t think I’m crazy now, huh?”

  “No. But this makes me nervous. If that file is empty…”

  “Yeah, I know.” I filled my glass with the last of the wine just in time for his phone to buzz. We both stared at it for a time, like it was going to grow teeth and bite us. One empty file wasn’t as worrisome as two. One could be chalked up to laziness. Two, however, opened a whole new can of worms in conjunction with everything else. He swallowed and picked up his phone. I scooted so close to him I was practically in his lap, watching him go through his own safety protocols. Then he opened up the file, and I had to fight the urge to throw up on hi
m. It had less information than even the one on Sterling.

  “What I was sent has more information in it.” He swiped into the other file which looked like what I usually got. “So, the summary has more information than the actual file. That’s… here.” He pulled up another file. “This is what a full file normally looks like.” The amount of information was staggering, and at the bottom, it had two areas filled in that neither Thorn’s nor the Van Ard’s kid did. Crime and Verdict.

  “Fuck,” I hissed.

  “If it makes you feel any better I don’t think this is the Camera Umbra. I mean if it is, this is just sloppy.”

  “So, you think it’s better if someone has been hacking into our secure system and fucking with things?”

  “Rose, Cis just hacked in to pull the file for me. I think every Sybil knows how to do it.”

  “But what would a Sybil gain from these deaths?”

  “I dunno, lets... go through the files and see if we can make sense of anything?”

  “I guess it’s as good of a place to start as any.”

  ****

  Nate and I poured over everything all night long, it was three am before we called it. He crashed with me, so when my phone started ringing, I got treated to the feeling of strong arms pulling my hands against his bare chest—I was always the big spoon. We didn’t have sex, but he did strip off his shirt before he laid down. It was a button down so I couldn’t blame him, but if I were honest I wouldn’t have complained regardless—it was a pleasant view, scars and all.

  I didn’t even check my caller ID, I just wanted the noise to end.

  “Hello?” I groaned.

  “Hey, it’s me. I’m outside can you let me in?” It was Thorn.

  “Sure. Gimme a sec.” I wriggled out from Nate’s grip and made my way to the door.

  My feet were heavy as I entered the kitchen and my movements sluggish. I admittedly had entirely too much wine, which was probably why it hadn’t occurred to me to put anything on. So, I stood there in bra and panties as I unlocked everything after peeping through the keyhole. After I opened the door, Thorn gaped at me. It wasn’t just the fact that I was practically nude, even I could admit that my legs looked pretty bad. Once the door was locked again, I made my way on autopilot to the linen closet, snagged the spare pillow and blanket before zombie-ing back to the couch. Nate’s coat still sat on the end of it, I snatched it off and tossed it onto the coat rack.

  “Who’s the lucky guy?” Thorn’s voice was nothing but tension as he looked me over. Someone is jealous.

  “Friend of mine.”

  “Are you sure it’s safe having him here?”

  I rolled my eyes and Nate walked out of the bedroom in nothing but his pants. Without his glasses and with his scars visible he looked kind of like a bad ass. The light fell in just the right way on his torso defining those lean muscles with stark darkness. Standing there with the stubble and the messy short dark hair he definitely didn’t seem like someone anyone’d want to fuck with.

  “Perfectly safe,” I mumbled as I made my way back to the bedroom, stopping only long enough to grab Nate by the slight tuft of chest hair that adorned his breastbone.

  ****

  The next morning was delightfully awkward between Nate and Thorn—both woke up before I did. Stepping into the kitchen, the sight of Nate making pancakes while Thorn glared from the kitchen island greeted me. They were both shirtless, so it was double Christmas, even if Nate had that I’m oh-so-helpless façade in place.

  “Nate says he owns a bakery.” The tension in Thorn’s voice was delightful.

  “I do.” Nate flipped a pancake, and I walked over to the coffee maker.

  “Where’d you get those scars then?”

  “Rose.”

  I scoffed. “I only stabbed you once.” I pressed the button to brew a pod and delighted in the smell of hazelnut coffee that filled the room.

  “Twice.” He corrected me, gesturing to a scar on that perfect tummy of his and then to his thigh.

  “The first time didn’t count.” I snickered. “You fell on me, and I was holding a knife.”

  “One and a half times?” Nate turned and flashed me a smile.

  “Fine, one and a half times.”

  “What about the others?” Thorn inquired.

  “I think you have an admirer, Nate.” Snatching up my mug I took a sip. It was perfect but the morning was shaping up to be an amazing one already.

  “That’s—”

  “Maybe in my twenties.” Nate turned the burner off and set the pan to the side. “Pancakes from scratch, your favorite.”

  “Awe, thank you.” I picked one off the top of the stack and grabbed a jar of strawberry preserves from the fridge.

  “I forgot that, no syrup. It makes your teeth hurt.” Nate snickered, oh he was playing up our connection because he too was enjoying making Thorn squirm.

  “So how did your date go?” I asked Thorn as I slipped into one of the stools against the island.

  “It wasn’t a date. Cassie was just shaken up by what happened yesterday and needed someone to make her feel safe. I—”

  “You fucked her,” I said with a mouth full of pancake. I might not have had sex with Nate the night before but his pancakes we so good it was damn near close enough.

  “Well… I—”

  “Look at that shade of red.” Nate pushed a plate in front of Thorn before he sat beside me.

  “This is why I can’t date you,” I gestured to the plate. “I’d be so fat. No more climbing through HVAC vents for me.” I snorted and stuffed another piece into my mouth.

  “Is that what happened to your legs?” Thorn asked furrowing his brows.

  “Yup. I held them off for a while, though. You guys got out safe. That’s all that matters I guess.” I stretched. “I wish I had gotten a bath in.”

  “I told you last night it’s bad for fresh stitches,” Nate murmured. I rolled my eyes and sipped my coffee.

  “All I wanted last night was to soak in a bath and fall asleep next to a warm body. Thanks for being my tepid slab of beef, Nate.”

  “Anytime, Rose.” He finished his pancakes, gave me a one arm hug, and walked into the back. “I’ll call you later. It was nice to catch up. Oh, and nice to meet you…Sid.” I snickered a little, oh he was such a good little sociopath.

  Thorn glared daggers after Nate while I continued to finish my pancakes. In my head, I was practically cackling. Some deep dark little part of me wanted Thorn to twist. I was happy that he had someone, but a jealous little thread inside of me still wanted to own some part of him. I needed to get laid. It was that simple, I wouldn’t care as much if I could just have some mindless, meaningless, unconnected roll in the hay; maybe with Nate.

  Ten

  MY STITCHES WERE itchy, I kept rubbing them. I wanted to scratch so badly, but I knew if I did they could rip, or the skin around them could tear and get infected. I kept kicking my foot to distract myself, but it hardly made a dent. At this rate, if the itching didn’t stop I’d need to go full-on mittens like a kid with the chicken pox.

  Nate cleaned up not only the kitchen, but also the living room, and we didn’t even have sex. I was fairly certain if we had, I could have gotten him to do something insane, like replace the tile in my bathroom. But then he’d want more than just lust and carnal gymnastics, and the ugly bathroom tile inside my heart was not so easily replaced. So, option A and B were more or less the same with the exception being, one came with cake and the other with—and I shit you not—kale chips.

  After coming to terms with the fact that I was stuck between a rock and a hard place—or rather two hard places, one that offered cake and the other…kale chips—I decided that my distraction was going to have to come from the case.

  When Nate left, he kissed my hair, and afterward Thorn stared at me like some kind of crestfallen kid. So, while Thorn made his kale chips in the kitchen, which I think was supposed to be some manly way of getting over the fact that another ma
le had touched my stuff in front of him, I grabbed my tablet and did some research on IPX.

  After two hours of investigation turned up nothing but dead ends, I hopped in the shower to help me think. Something about the sound of the rushing water always calmed me and made it easier to focus on my thoughts. Visiting Christian was out of the question, the wounds from last time had just stopped aching. Maybe Fiona’s morgue guy had given her a timeline.

  By the time I made my to-do list for the day my fingers were pruney, but the itching had almost completely subsided and as I slid back the shower curtain I remembered something from yesterday that I didn’t catch at the time. Jonas. I scrambled out of the bathroom still naked and dripping I put my ear piece in and dialed Davy.

  “Nigel’s house of Haggis and blood pudding, how may I place your order.”

  “Jonas.”

  “What?”

  “Where was Jonas when the QK went out yesterday?” I only half noticed Thorn sitting on the bed staring at me wide eyed as I frantically dressed.

  “Jonas was…that’s odd.”

  “Let me guess, Jonas is nowhere.”

  “Yeah. But twenty minutes before when I pinged you outside of Knit Happens he was inside. Shit.”

  “Exactly. Where’s that fucker now?” I wriggled into a pair of black jeggings and snatched a sports bra out of my top drawer—today was going to be a sports bra kind of day. I couldn’t shake the feeling that before the day was out, I was probably going to need a few more stitches.

  “Hold on, I have to bypass my lock to ping him.” I glanced at Thorn after pulling on a burgundy tank top—see I own clothing that’s not black.

  “Get showered we’re leaving in fifteen, and wear something you can run in,” I whispered to Thorn, he left while I was still listening to the clack of the keys in my ear.