Southwest Nights (Semiautomatic Sorceress Book 1) by Kal Aaron (ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📗

bunch of heavily armed men when she couldn’t account for the sorcery she’d felt earlier was a good way to end up needing more than ice packs and herbs. She had to clear the rec room first.

“Come on, boys.” Lyssa waved her batons. “Don’t make me come in there.”

Four men she hadn’t seen before stepped toward the front of the rec room. They all held crossbows and were grinning from ear-to-ear. She widened her stance on the other end of the room, ready to engage. The pressure in her chest and the men’s cocky attitude signaled that they weren’t holding ordinary crossbows.

More shards. Now things were getting interesting.

Sometimes a man needed a reason to listen to his instincts. Lyssa didn’t believe these gangsters could look at a room full of their beaten-down friends while a woman in a death mask and bloody shadow-covered batons fearlessly stared them down, even if they carried shard crossbows.

“You sure you want to do this?” Lyssa asked, infusing her voice with hostility. “You’re not just asking for death, you’re begging for it. You know who I am, right? I am Hecate, Sorceress and Torch of the Illuminated Society. The longer you oppose me, the more you risk your life. I’ve defeated every man you’ve sent at me, and I’m not required to spare your lives if you challenge mine.”

The men raised their crossbows and chanted a phrase in Latin. A flaming bolt appeared in one crossbow. In another, a bolt made of dark stone materialized. The third weapon was loaded with solid ice ammo, while the fourth held a barely visible bolt made of swirling dust.

“He wants us to test these,” Mr. Firebolt said, his body trembling with excitement. “We were saving them for the cops, but now we got ourselves a bruja.”

“Having some toys doesn’t make you my equal,” Lyssa replied, her voice a growl.

“We got the magic now, bitch. You’re nothing. You run away right now, and we will let you go. Everyone will know Alvarez and his boys beat Hecate.”

Lyssa growled. “Okay. Fine. Bring it on, idiots.”

Chapter Five

Mr. Firebolt shot his bolt. Lyssa cartwheeled out of the way, not eager to test her defenses against an enchanted weapon without more info. The bolt exploded into a curtain of flame behind her, setting the wall on fire. A wave of heat passed over her.

“Yeah!” Mr. Firebolt shouted in triumph. “You’re gonna die, you bruja bitch!”

His friends nodded their eager agreement, spreading out but not firing. A long needle flipped up from the center of the crossbow. Mr. Firebolt stepped back and jammed a finger into it. Blood seeped from the wound, disappearing into the needle.

That answered one question. She could use the revelation to work their nerves.

“This is what you don’t get about sorcery.” Lyssa stepped back in front of the burning wall, twirling her batons in her fingers. “You can think of it as magic all you want, but there’s no way to get something for nothing in this world.”

“Does that include you?” Mr. Firebolt asked.

The other three men fired. Ready for the attack, she dove to the side. The enchanted bolts passed over her, the ice round striking the wall first. A sheet of ice coated the wall and quenched the flames from the earlier attack. It would save the fire department some work.

Mr. Stonebolt’s shot struck next. It shattered the ice, showering the nearby area with small frozen chunks mixed with hard, sharp pieces of rock. A follow-up attack from the dusty bolt clarified its nature as a wild gust of wind burst from it, knocking Lyssa into an overturned table and scattering bits of stone, charred wall, and ice all over the room.

The instant storm forced the men back. They didn’t keep both hands on their weapons, throwing up one to keep the rock and ice out of their eyes. A vase knocked over by the wind crashed to the floor and shattered.

“I recommend you make full use of your resources,” Jofi said. “Including me.”

“I’ve got this,” Lyssa whispered. “The guys upstairs did a better job than the Four Horsemen of the Idiocalypse here. The real question is how fast they can reload and how much blood the shards need.”

“You’re going to die here, Hecate,” Mr. Firebolt shouted. “We’re going to shoot you and leave nothing but that mask, and Alvarez’s gonna hang it up on his wall as a trophy, just like he has badges from all the pigs and feds he’s killed.”

Lyssa did her best not to look down on Shadows. Human society had accomplished brilliant and impressive things, including sending people to the Moon. But there was something galling about the punk standing there with an enchanted crossbow threatening a trained combat Sorceress. He needed a good lesson.

A flaming bolt formed slowly in Mr. Firebolt’s crossbow, answering her earlier question and summoning a slow, cold chuckle from Lyssa. The other men stepped back, feeding their blood to their weapons. A weapon was only as good as the tactics supporting it.

“You’re going to kill me?” she asked. “I am the night. I am fear. I am death.”

“You’re gonna be dead,” Mr. Firebolt yelled.

Lyssa leaped over a couch and charged him, raising her batons. He rushed backward, grunting as he slammed into a wall. The other three men hustled to different corners of the room but kept their hands on the needles.

Mr. Firebolt’s face twisted in an angry grimace as he raised the crossbow, the bolt not fully formed, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

“You should have checked the manual,” Lyssa said, arriving in front of the man.

She smacked the crossbow out of his hands with a double strike before bringing her knee up. The man groaned briefly before a backswing with her left baton sent him to the floor.

Lyssa spun to face the other men. “All things have limits.”

Mr. Icebolt’s needle lowered, and he offered her a grin as cold as his enchanted ammo. “Get down on your hands and knees and beg. Maybe we’ll let