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

he make it resemble a phone, he’d looked at her like she’d cracked open a portal to the darkest pit of an evil dimension lacking any sanity or goodness.

Samuel could accept a compact mirror, even a pink plastic one. He might not admit it, but facing the realities of modern living should be on the top of the list for every Sorcerer or Sorceress. How could they call themselves the Illuminated if they were afraid of technology?

His security measures wouldn’t remain effective. Ever since the existence of sorcery had become public knowledge five years ago on M-Day, what had once been secrets shared only among the smallest of circles were slowly becoming public knowledge all over the world. That included the otherwise long-forgotten language of the lost continent of Lemuria.

An east Phoenix address appeared in the glass, complete with a ZIP code. Lyssa didn’t have to leave the area. It took a moment for her to translate the rest of the message.

You are engaged as an officially sanctioned Torch of the Illuminated Society. United States Extraordinary Affairs Agency coordination is in progress. Limit activity per Shadow authorities’ desires. This order is for immediate implementation. Only Shadow enemies are anticipated. The contract is Society-bound.

The Sorcerers and Sorceresses of the Illuminated Society loved their titles and labels. They were another way to separate themselves from the vast bulk of humanity. A person wielding sorcery was an Illuminated. A normal human was called a Shadow.

Lyssa was special in a way. As a Torch, she was akin to Shadow Special Forces operators. She was trained in combat sorcery and given the latitude necessary for the violent suppression of threats as identified by the Society.

Some Illuminated referred to her as an elite, but others claimed her becoming a Torch was inevitable and one step away from nepotism. She came from a long line of Torches, including her parents and her older brother.

Lyssa stared at the message. The official order jogged a memory. She’d forgotten. How could she have done that?

She’d been distracted by the move. Her parents had died in the line of duty when she was a young girl. She’d come to terms with that, but then her brother vanished when she was a teenager. The fifteenth anniversary of his alleged death was approaching.

The Society insisted he was dead. She refused to believe it.

Lyssa could never let herself forget. She was the only one left who cared. For now, she needed to concentrate on her job. The best way to honor him until she found him was to become the ultimate Torch.

“A local address and pointing me at the cops to handle some normal people?” Lyssa forced mirth into her tone. Maybe she could fool Jofi. “He couldn’t have called me to tell me? He’s already accepting modern times. It’s not like they had ZIP codes back in the old, glorious days of hidden sorcery.”

“Elder Samuel has his reasons, I’m sure,” Jofi said. “He has many decades of experience.”

“You’re right.” Lyssa stood. “His reason is he’s a fossil. Television didn’t exist when he was born. World War I had just ended. That might not mean a lot to you since you’re ageless, but it does to me.”

“Why? I’m curious. I don’t ask to be obstinate.”

“Because it’s hard to trust fossils to lead us into the new age, Jofi.”

Criminals used phones without getting caught. A Sorcerer should be able to contact a Sorceress without an elaborate arcane item and an ancient language.

The Illuminated Society had allowed technology to advance too quickly while failing to develop the necessary countermeasures. It was inevitable they would have to emerge from their hidden dens spread around the world. They’d decided it was better to do it on their terms rather than wait for eventual discovery.

Their powers didn’t justify being stuck in the past. Too many things had changed over the millennia, but the Elders and the Tribunal who ruled her kind acted as if all the Illuminated still lived on their lost continent.

Sometimes Lyssa wondered if her people accepted that Lemuria had been lost for ten thousand years. The center of the Society’s power, the hidden island of Last Remnant, had been settled after the fall of Lemuria.

“It’s fine, Jofi.” Lyssa took a deep breath. “I’m annoyed, but I’ll live, and we both could use some exercise. And you’re right, he wouldn’t call out a Torch to mess with me. I hope the job’s useful.”

“Does it matter?” Jofi asked.

“Sure. I might bitch, but I get the warm fuzzies when I save people from gun-toting lunatics.”

Lyssa walked into her bedroom and over to a wall in her closet. She ran her hand over the wall while imagining a series of thick black ropes untwisting. A rectangle faded into existence, appearing shadow-like at first. It soon solidified into a safe door.

Her last line of defense was rather mundane, a keypad lock. She tapped in the combination, humming the tune she’d used as a mnemonic when she memorized the code.

“It’s time to play, Jofi. You ready?”

“I’m always ready.”

Inside the deep, wide safe, two black pistols lay crossed near the side, along with small boxes filled with enchanted rounds and magazines marked with strips of colored tape. A wrapped bundle of black clothes and holsters was piled on the opposite side. A skull-like mask sat on top. The clothes formed her regalia, that of the Night Goddess.

Lyssa yanked off her jeans and shirt and tossed them on the floor before pulling out the dark regalia inside the safe: a long dark coat over black pants, shirt, boots, and gloves. She tugged out a metallic mesh vest and slipped it on before her coat. It wasn’t part of her regalia proper, but she had picked it up from a friend in Vegas.

The regalia offered decent protection, but the more passive armor she wore, the better chance she had of surviving without being dependent on constant sorcery. The dual holster went on before the rest of the clothes.

With concentration, she could change the regalia’s appearance