Camera Obscura (A Novel of Shadows Book 1)
Page 26
“Another thing. Officially the story is going to be that there was never any judgment leveled against Thornton Sterling IV and that he had nothing to do with our little personnel problem.”
“Fantastic! Fan-fucking-tastic!”
“You’ll be compensated for your time and effort. The murders and missing persons will be chalked up to that rogue faction within the Cult of Isis, and in time we’ll all forget this dumpster fire even happened.”
“What about the others?”
“Nathaniel, David, and Cicero have already been briefed on the situation.”
“If I had killed him before you got here?”
“Honestly? I hoped you had. But unfortunately, Rosaline, on occasion the bad guys do win.”
“Great talk, keep him the fuck away from me.” I opened the car door and peeled out of the yard with a sour taste lingering in my mouth.
****
Without killing Thorn, I felt like I had held in a sneeze, on top of feeling like my body was falling apart. The impotent rage simmered hot under the surface even as I went back to the hotel and washed Thorn’s blood off me—the looks I got in the lobby were priceless. I’d need a good week off to heal if I was going pass as human enough for another contract. I sent Abby a text about doing Thanksgiving with Nate, Cis, Davy, and I. She seemed enthusiastic, which was good. I could solve the Nate conundrum at least and return my life to some semblance of what passed for my version of normal.
The definition of boring was the rest of my day. I looked at apartments and rental homes. I found one that was passable, a nice little house with a picket fence, and a tire swing in the backyard. It was brick construction which meant the chances of bullets going through the walls, and endangering my neighbors were slim. The only downside was that I’d have to buy a few more guns. Or was that an upside? I set it up to sign the papers and move in after Thanksgiving.
Just as I was leaving I got a text from Nate, Thanksgiving was going to be at his place because Thornton Asshat Sterling had purchased the Old Police Station and they had already started gutting it. I resisted the urge to throw my phone, and instead settled for having a good little conniption in the driver’s seat.
After screaming, and smacking my hands against the steering wheel, I glanced up to notice an SUV skidding out of control, and wrapping around a light post. The wood snapped from the impact, sending the pole toppling over, taking the transformer with it. Lights all around me flickered before dying into darkness as the live wires sparkled with blue electricity in the street and the SUV caught fire. The driver pulled himself free, and somehow made it to a safe lawn away from the alluring tableaux of certain death. I slipped my earpiece in.
“Cameo, report an accident on Chester and Linton Ave.”
“Incident reported.” The voice sounded back, and I sighed, continuing to watch as the flames eventually engulfed the vehicle. The whole scene summed up everything I had been through since that October Fundraiser perfectly, only I wasn’t smart enough to leave the burning vehicle.
Epilogue
I ALWAYS FELT a bit like Jane Goodall amongst the apes at holidays. Like I should have a tape recorder and hide behind a coat rack as I describe the bizarre customs I see taking place before my very eyes. Things that seem almost familiar and yet at the same time so vastly alien I have problems articulating them.
For that reason alone, I wanted to stay home, or rather at the hotel. I almost did, but in the end, Davy sending me a text thirty minutes before I was supposed to show convinced me to put on clothes and grab a pie at a grocery store. It wasn’t until Nate opened the door looking scrumptious as always that I felt like an idiot. Yes, bring a dessert to a dinner you’re having above a fucking bakery.
“I brought pie.” I lifted the bag.
“I guess you could call that pie.” He chuckled, holding the door open. “Come on in. Abby, Davy and Cis are already here.” He gave me a quick one handed hug, and I returned the half-gesture.
The wine flowed, and by the time all of us had eaten our body weight in turkey everyone, minus myself, was horrendously drunk. I went into the kitchen to get more water and found myself transfixed by my pie on the counter—no one had even tried it. It sat there opened and untouched beside the other pies and Nate’s spice cake.
Outside of the box, you could still tell it was generic grocery store pie, its artificial uniformity was what gave it away, compared to the slight browning which existed at the edges of Nate’s.
A giggle and a soft husky whisper drew my attention.
Abby and Nate were refilling their wine glasses and flirting up a storm, and then they kissed. I felt conflicted. My eyes were drawn back to that store-bought pie, and I felt a kinship with it at that moment as I heard the door to Nate’s bedroom close and the giggling continue, muffled behind the wood.
Picking up the pie, I walked over to the garbage and dropped it in; it didn’t belong up there with the real pies any more than I belonged with someone with real feelings. I wasn’t hurt by the noises I heard later that night as we all passed out on the fold out couch. A normal person would have been, but I wasn’t; the only emotion that really registered was a sliver of content because the natural order was restored. Nate had someone who could return his affection, and I wouldn’t have to hear anyone say the word love to me for a while at least—win, win.
-END-
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
An avid reader and lover of literature, Christina Quinn, has always wanted to be an author for as long as she can remember. She spends most of her days with a coffee cup or wine glass within arm’s reach as she labors at her laptop weaving incredible stories.
Table of Contents
Other Books By Christina Quinn
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
ABOUT THE AUTHOR