Southwest Nights (Semiautomatic Sorceress Book 1) by Kal Aaron (large ebook reader txt) 📕

Society look better out of it. It’s political garbage making my job harder.”

“If there’s a rogue Sorcerer, there’s a good chance they’ll send an Eclipse to handle them.”

“They have to know who it is first. Until then, they’ll be happy with a Torch.” Lyssa thought about the various potential outcomes of the job. “We might not be able to wait that long. I want to get this solved, not sit on my hands while the Elders debate how best to impress politicians.”

“Are you worried?” Jofi asked.

“About the Society?” Lyssa replied. “Yes. I’m always worried about those fossils.”

“No. Are you worried about having to fight another Illuminated?”

Lyssa chuckled. “A rogue Sorcerer isn’t Illuminated. That’s what the Elders say.”

“Then you’re worried about having to fight a rogue Sorcerer?” Jofi asked.

Lyssa didn’t answer for a long time, content in the knowledge that Jofi wouldn’t follow up until she was ready. She’d been involved in more than her fair share of deadly serious incidents during her twelve years as a Torch, including taking on terrorists in her first year, long before M-Day. Her techniques and experience had been honed over those years. She wasn’t going to claim she could beat every Sorcerer out there, but that didn’t make her less lethal.

“No.” Lyssa nodded. “I’ve fought more than enough of my kind, even if I haven’t had to kill any yet. I’m not crazy about cutting down the number of Illuminated in the world, but I’m not naïve enough to believe that doesn’t mean some of our people would be better off dead. But it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Why?”

Lyssa moved closer to the road. There wasn’t anyone else on it for miles.

“Because I can’t kill someone until I’ve found them. And for the rest of the day, I’m going to try not to worry about it.”

Chapter Thirteen

By the time Lyssa rolled into the San Diego area, she’d adopted her disguise, now a white-jacketed woman on an expensive yellow motorcycle. That earned her approving looks from men in nearby cars, but no one tried to follow her.

Lyssa continued down the highway, passing through San Diego proper and reaching the beach-hugging community of Cardiff. Once in Cardiff, the streets and roads called to her, telling her exactly where she needed to go. She was headed for a house she’d lived in from her middle teens until her twenties, when she’d moved to San Diego. More than that house or her place in Scottsdale, her current destination was the closest thing she had to a home.

She climbed a hill and turned a corner, finally arriving at a modest Spanish ranch house overlooking the ocean, the gentle waves striking a beach below. Exquisite rows of carefully arranged beautiful flowers in a dazzling array of colors lined the narrow driveway. The packed trees surrounding the house and the ocean view produced a feeling of solitude despite all the nearby houses.

The place never changed. That was why it was so comforting.

A person with a careful eye for detail, if they ignored the color, might be able to pick out some of the sorcery glyphs traced by the flowers. Any Illuminated could sense the constant pulse of background power. This garden was a powerful artifact, as much a shard in its way as Alvarez’s robe. A constant, living ritual.

Lyssa slowed to a stop before lowering her kickstand and killing her engine. She pulled off her helmet, shook out her hair, and inhaled deeply, enjoying the complex interplay of the floral and salty scents.

By the time she was at the door, it was open, and a smiling middle-aged woman with dark hair was on the other side. Her floral-patterned apron and dress added to her motherly aura. The woman’s true age was a good two decades higher than her apparent age. Tricia Bennett was a welcome sight after Lyssa’s recent stressful days. It was good to be home with her foster parents.

The woman pulled Lyssa into an embrace. “It’s been too long.”

“Sorry, Tricia.” Lyssa hugged her back. “I’ve been busy between the move and work.”

“Work.” Tricia puckered her mouth with displeasure. “I’ve heard. Your alter ego is becoming famous.”

Lyssa smiled. “Listening to the news, huh? That’s bad for your heart.”

Tricia motioned her inside. “It’s good to keep aware these days. Things were a lot easier before M-Day.”

Lyssa entered the living room to find a huge man sitting on a couch, watching a NASCAR race. “Hey, Fred.”

He looked at her and smiled. “Hey, sweetie.”

“I’m thirty now.” Lyssa rolled her eyes. “I think I’m a little old for ‘sweetie.’”

Fred shrugged. “You said the same thing when you were fifteen. You say the same thing every time you visit, but I’m still older than you.”

“Okay, you got me there.”

A rich, earthy scent wafted from the kitchen and ambushed Lyssa’s nose. Her stomach rumbled.

Tricia gave her a knowing look. “I have mushroom soup almost ready.” She held up a hand. “And don’t worry. I didn’t use a new recipe this time. It doesn’t change its flavor with each bite.”

“Good.” Lyssa removed her jacket and the holster and moved to the coat rack. She hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and hanging them up. Disguised regalia or not, this was one place she didn’t need to be on guard. “I’m more than happy to have some soup.”

Tricia eyed the guns with a slight frown. Her expression twitched into a smile as she turned to her husband. “I’ll never understand what you see in that racing, and what about the parade? You promised we could watch it.”

“That’s not until tomorrow,” Fred replied, “and racing is the ultimate combination of technique and technology.” He shook a finger. “The Society should start up a sorcery racing circuit. People would pay good money to watch that. I’d never get out of my chair if I could watch that.”

Lyssa snickered. It sounded absurd on the surface, but it wasn’t a half-bad idea. The Elders and the Tribunal were so obsessed with supplying soldiers and assassins to the governments of the