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

She kept a box of burner phones she’d purchased all over the country, but in this case, there was no reason not to use a local number. Her identity might be a secret, but the fact that Hecate lived in Maricopa County wasn’t.

“You’re not going to visit him directly about this?” Jofi asked.

“That would require me to get near him.” Lyssa wrinkled her nose. “And the less time I spend around that guy, the better. Plus, there’s something that bothers me about his suits. The guy’s not rich, but he can afford a suit that fits? It’s crazy.”

She dialed and waited patiently. There was no reason for Reed not to answer, given the time of day. Unless he was dead. That was always a possibility.

“Yeah?” Reed answered, suspicion thick in his voice.

“It’s me,” Lyssa replied, the gruffness of the regalia coming through. “It’s a new phone.”

Reed giggled. “Hecate, I’m not the NSA. You ain’t got to worry about me tracing things.”

“I’m not worried about you.” Lyssa scoffed. “And I don’t want to waste a lot of time with chitchat.”

“You know me. I’m always up for a nice, well-paid chat. And you pay better than most.”

“Is that why you haven’t tried to sell me out yet?”

“That and you might drink my soul,” Reed replied.

“Good, remember that. But let’s get down to business. I’ve got an important place to be.”

“Weren’t you going to Emperor Chicken for a meal?” Jofi asked.

Lyssa put her hand over her phone. “Quiet, you. You’re going to mess up my flow.”

Reed coughed over the line. “Before we get down to business, I’m wondering.”

“Wondering what?” Lyssa asked warily.

“Does it always have to be money?” Reed chuckled nervously. “Maybe you could owe me a fav—”

“Don’t press your luck,” Lyssa growled. “Jorge Alvarez. You know him?”

“Yeah.” Reed sounded offended. “I ain’t some idiot, you know. I knew about him before you kicked in his door and beat his ass. What about him?”

“He had shards.”

“That’s what they said on the news.”

“Would you happen to know anything about that?” Lyssa asked.

“Ah, I got you.” Reed chuckled. “I ain’t got anything right now, but that don’t mean I won’t get nothing. Give me some time.”

Lyssa hissed in frustration. “Everyone needs time, and no one knows anything.”

“Whoa. Calm down there, Hecate. I’ll find what you need. You want to know where he got them, right?”

“Yes.” Lyssa ground her teeth. “Get me answers within a week, and I’ll pay you twice as much as normal. The faster you get that info, the bigger the bonus.”

She was more frustrated than she’d expected to be. Calling Reed crystallized the truth about what had happened the other day.

“Now that’s what I call motivation,” Reed replied. “I’ll get what you need. Old Reed Peters ain’t ever going to let you down.”

“I hope not. For your sake.”

Chapter Eight

Lyssa munched quietly on her spicy Szechuan chicken sandwich in the corner of the Emperor Chicken dining room. Despite her frustration, there was nothing to do but wait and relax by focusing on the mundane. Tomorrow, she had somewhere to go that would help distract her from the anniversary, but the only thing keeping her grounded for the moment was food.

Eating a chicken sandwich and sipping iced tea was about the most mundane thing in the world. No one would suspect that Hecate the Night Goddess would be at a corner Chinese-fusion fast-food place.

A TV hung in the corner of the dining room, blaring the news. She’d hoped everyone had moved on from the Alvarez incident, but it was still headlining broadcasts days later. A split-screen came up as the anchor introduced an alleged expert, a round-faced bespectacled man in a gray suit and a red bowtie.

She grimaced. She’d never met the man, but she recognized him from an article she’d read before moving to Phoenix. He was a member of an anti-sorcery activist group.

“We’re joined today by Grant Harris,” the anchor said. “He’s the president of the local chapter of the American Council for Sorcery Safety. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to join us.”

“It’s my pleasure to be here,” Grant replied with a smile. “I consider adding to public safety awareness the duty of every citizen.”

“In that vein, we were wondering what your thoughts were on the recent raid in Phoenix on the home of reputed cartel member Jorge Alvarez.” The anchor kept a serious expression. “The government brought in a Sorceress who goes by the name of Hecate. While the police, FBI, and EAA aren’t being open with all the details, it’s clear the alleged criminals present, including the now-deceased Jorge Alvarez, were in possession of multiple illegal magical items, sometimes referred to as shards.”

Lyssa rolled her eyes. She loathed the word “magic.”

It was a petty complaint. She could understand why Shadows didn’t see a difference between magic and sorcery, but in her mind, sorcery was real, the result of careful training and study combined with the power of the regalia. It was ancient, older than Shadow science. Magic was something a guy in a top hat with a half-naked assistant did in Vegas at a super-cheap, way off-the-Strip casino.

The dictionary battle was lost, and her faction had been routed and humiliated. That was obvious to anyone. The day sorcery was revealed to the modern Shadow world was called M-Day, not S-Day. She’d have to get over it.

Grant steepled his fingers and nodded, his face grim. “The insistence by the government that this was a routine event is completely misleading, and I’m surprised that more people aren’t terrified about what happened. That’s one of the reasons I’m here today.”

She hated agreeing with the man about the incident being more than it appeared, though her reasons were likely far different.

The anchor nodded slowly. “I see. Could you expand on your meaning for the people at home?”

“Of course.” Grant nodded back. “The last time I checked, it was the job of law enforcement to apprehend criminals. Now, I have nothing but the utmost respect for