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

that, and it’s not like your people would hunt you for taking down a criminal with a bunch of shards. I’m just trying to communicate that I don’t put it past some ambitious types to try to use this situation—and you—to advance themselves.”

“Screw them.” Lyssa hopped up and shadowboxed the air. “If they want a piece of me, they can come at me.”

“You’re a tough chick.” Damien’s voice trailed off, and he stared at her chest.

Lyssa blinked. “Is this the time to be checking me out?”

Damien winced. “I wasn’t doing that.” He gestured at her shirt. “Tough chick, but you’re in that.”

Lyssa looked down at her shirt. More Kawatsu-chan. Toughness and cute unicorns didn’t go together.

“You’ve seen this character before.” She shrugged.

“I know.” Damien laughed nervously. “It’s just the situation. Anyway, forget it. The point is you’re not untouchable. If you resolve this incident quickly, they won’t be able to do much without looking like the snakes they are.”

“Fine, fine.” Lyssa smiled. “Get the contract set up on your phone, and let’s do the signing. Maybe my info will come in before that, but I’ve got something personal to take care of later tonight.”

Damien didn’t know it was the anniversary of her brother’s disappearance. She didn’t feel the need to mention it or talk about where she went every year at this time.

“Sure,” he replied. “You do what you need to, but the sooner you finish—”

“The sooner everyone stops being asses.”

Chapter Twelve

A white-jacketed rider on a yellow Ducati Panigale screaming down a highway at hundreds of miles per hour would, under most circumstances, attract the attention of the highway patrol, as well as more dangerous people. That meant that when Lyssa took full advantage of her abilities to maximize her speed, she needed to hide from prying eyes.

On a day when she wasn’t pressed for time and was looking to relax, she could have kept to the speed limit, or near-ish, and hit San Diego from Scottsdale in around five hours. Zen-like calm accompanied a long bike ride. It was one of the reasons she preferred her motorcycle. She liked being exposed to the elements as she tore across the land. Freed from the cage of a car, she felt like she could become one with the road.

Today her schedule removed any chance of a relaxing trip. Tomorrow she needed to start her new contract. The timing meant it was even more important that she finish her personal business that night. That translated into getting to San Diego as quickly as possible with the help of sorcery spells and rituals. She had started by using her standard package of spells to escape her home before driving west as Hecate.

Focused on splitting her attention between mental imaging and chanting as she prepared her long-distance travel spells, along with driving, she didn’t mind the looks and occasional honks as she made her way along surface streets to the highway.

Once she hit the highway, a group of bikers cruised in formation with her for a while, but no one dared get too close to the dark rider. Once she’d hit AZ-85, the long minutes of chanting under her breath and her mental images of strings of shadow and dark twins layered in intricate patterns took effect, turning her sorcery from mere potential to an alteration of reality.

Lyssa pulled away from the bikers with a wave, not wanting to startle them into an accident. They offered respectful nods.

Once she’d distanced herself by hundreds of feet, she finished the last portion of the ritual. The melodic Phrygian flowed with ease, each syllable spoken in time with a specific mental image precisely memorized over years of practice. When she’d learned the ritual, she’d never imagined using it on a motorcycle.

That kind of flexibility was what the Society needed. The combination of technology and sorcery represented the future of humanity.

The Phrygian wasn’t her choice, but she didn’t mind. Every Illuminated had their own methods of calling on their power, linked to both family and essence traditions. In a sense, every language was sacred and could bring out the power of a Sorcerer’s soul. Lyssa used the ancient Indo-European language as part of her efforts because her mother, the last bearer of the Night Goddess, did so.

Specifics didn’t matter as much as finding what resonated within. All the pointless squabbles of the past where different factions obsessed with their paths warred with each other represented a fundamental misunderstanding of sorcery.

Lyssa spared a brief thought for how she’d inherited the Night Goddess indirectly. That had caused trouble with another family, the Khatris, who had previously controlled the regalia, but such was the way of the capricious enchanted garments.

Her grandfather, though a user of different regalia and essence, also made use of the language, and so it had been for generation after generation of Corti before their family blended in with lost ancestors. Since getting Jofi, Lyssa typically only needed the language for powerful, lasting rituals.

With the ritual complete, the bike and rider were an all-but-silent, ghostly, intangible wraith form. She was barely noticeable unless someone was close, but the power of the vehicle remained. She jerked as the Ducati ripped down the side of the road, barely touching it. The maxed speedometer was useless. She knew from experience that her bike had reached four hundred miles per hour.

Lyssa took slow breaths, the spell helping her breathe evenly. Driving on the side of the road, combined with her spells, would help her avoid a serious collision. The worst-case scenario would involve a sudden stop and her wraith form failing.

In the past, she hadn’t always been able to perform the complicated ritual she’d dubbed Tenebrous Air successfully. Darkness wasn’t an essence that lent itself to quick travel, but once she’d acquired Jofi, things had changed. She’d been able to maintain spells and rituals that had seemed far out of reach when she was younger.

It wasn’t relaxing, for sure. The trip required heavy concentration, but there was a lot to be