Southwest Days (Semiautomatic Sorceress Book 2) by Kal Aaron (best book recommendations TXT) 📕

Southwest Days

Semiautomatic Sorceress™ Book 2

Kal Aaron Michael Anderle

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

Copyright © 2021 LMBPN Publishing

Cover Art by Jake @ J Caleb Design

http://jcalebdesign.com / [email protected]

Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

A Michael Anderle Production

LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

LMBPN Publishing

PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

Las Vegas, NV 89109

First edition, March 2021

eBook ISBN: 978-1-64971-637-8

Print ISBN: 978-1-64971-638-5

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Author Notes - Kal Arron

Author Notes - Michael Anderle

Connect with The Authors

About Kal Aaron

Books By Kal Aaron

Books By Michael Anderle

The Southwest Days Team

Thanks to our Beta Team:

John Ashmore, Larry Omans, Kelly O’Donnell

JIT Readers

Deb Mader

Zacc Pelter

Jackey Hankard-Brodie

Paul Westman

Dorothy Lloyd

Dave Hicks

Diane L. Smith

Wendy L Bonell

Angel LaVey

Editor

Skyhunter Editing Team

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my wife. She put up with a lot of late nights when I was writing this book.

— Kal

To Family, Friends and

Those Who Love

to Read.

May We All Enjoy Grace

to Live the Life We Are

Called.

— Michael

Chapter One

Lyssa hoped she hadn’t driven four hundred miles for nothing. Being able to cover that distance quickly with sorcery on her bike didn’t mean it was effortless.

Her day would grow even more annoying if the trip ended in an ambush. Wanting to get back to doing her job didn’t mean wanting to get shot at by random idiots who were too stubborn to know when they were beaten.

There were also more exotic threats. Such was the life of a Society Torch.

“You never know when you’re going to walk into a building looking for a friend and get jumped by some stupid magical construct that gets faster the more you hit it,” she muttered. She’d long since added her spells and was now just a normal-looking woman in a white leather jacket riding a not-so-normal bright yellow Ducati Panigale.

“You believe trouble is coming?” Jofi asked. “You didn’t indicate such earlier.”

Having her regalia, guns, and spirit partner reassured Lyssa. She might not be equipped for all possibilities, but that combination would let her handle almost anything capable of being solved with a bullet or an enchanted baton.

“No,” Lyssa replied. “But I don’t trust my luck. Sometimes something as routine as picking up new ammo ends up with me fighting for my life.”

“You’re not going to visit Miss Dale. There’s little risk of being attacked by one of her unfortunate experiments.”

Lyssa explained, “I was using her as an example. The point stands.”

“It’s been a month since you experienced any significant violence,” Jofi said. “You didn’t kill anyone when I wasn’t present, did you?”

Lyssa laughed. “Not that I remember, but you never know. Some days I worry about waking up and finding out.”

She frowned. It’d be far too easy to let Lee’s name slip out. That could lead to Jofi asking questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

Oh, I’m sorry. That’s the name of the guy in charge, other than me, of making sure you stayed locked in my guns and ignorant of your true nature.

“Lyssa, is there a problem?” Jofi asked.

“No,” Lyssa admitted. “I’m spinning myself up for nothing.”

“That’s unadvisable.”

“I can’t disagree with that.”

Lyssa lapsed into silence. She needed to pay more attention to her turns now that she was in Los Angeles proper.

A Bentley with tinted windows waited far too long to make a turn at an intersection, blocking Lyssa. Her Ducati might be out of place in fancy neighborhoods less inclined toward expensive sport motorcycles, but Lyssa was in the capital of pointless excess and showing off. There was bound to be some actor in the neighborhood riding around on a bike that made hers seem like something she’d picked up from a junkyard. She smiled at the thought.

With the Bentley out of the way, she continued toward her destination, trying her best to take slow, even breaths and not work herself up. She didn’t expect any violence at the end of the trip, but physical pain wasn’t the only concern.

Lyssa slowed her bike and pulled onto a private side road. She was close.

Pressure built in her chest. Sorcery and lots of it. She’d arrived.

She wasn’t surprised by the sorcery, given her earlier paranoia. It was expected. This wasn’t her first time there.

Spells and enchantments covered almost every foot of the sprawling, fenced-in mansion at the end of the road. A prepared Illuminated was a longer-lived Illuminated. Being out of the top hat meant their kind had a lot more potential enemies, and hiding their identities wasn’t always enough to protect them.

Someone who made a living lethally punishing the enemies of the Shadow and Illuminated societies might have more risk, but it was hard to have power and not be targeted at some point. Even Tricia didn’t go around publicly admitting her true nature.

Lyssa pulled up to a white gate decorated with ornate scrollwork and stopped. She’d last been to the mansion in the early summer. As far as she knew, the entry procedures hadn’t changed.

“Living in this big place seems like it’d be annoying,” she said.

“Isn’t that why your hostess has staff?” Jofi asked.

“People are the most annoying thing of all.”

The gate opened, the two sides pulling apart, all but silent. Lyssa drove forward before turning toward a multi-doored garage larger than her Scottsdale home. A door