Southwest Truths (Semiautomatic Sorceress Book 3) by Kal Aaron (the red fox clan .txt) 📗

Lyssa leaned against the wall, sighing. “That’s a slap in the face. I came all this way, hoping I wouldn’t see it. I tried to tell myself I was ready for the other possibility, but deep in my heart, I thought I was going to sit here for two weeks and never see that form. Then I could leave and have that uncertainty to cling to.”

Takeo nodded. “I’m sorry, Lyssa. I truly am. I know you didn’t want this, but I hope it brings you some small peace.”

She wanted to believe it was a fake, but there was electricity in the air around unbound regalia, something every Illuminated was intimately familiar with—a tingly presence that cut through the normal pressure of sorcery, even the intense levels present on Last Remnant. The truth had flashed in front of her in that brief moment.

The regalia’s constant change was expected. It put off the normal sensation, and it had turned into her brother’s form at least once.

Faking that would require breaking into the Vault of Dreams and pulling off numerous complicated spells without anyone noticing. Takeo wasn’t the only vault tender. Inspections of every regalia didn’t occur every day, but someone was bound to discover something strange even if someone somehow beat all the passive spells in the building.

A good conspiracy theory added epicycle-like explanations to justify every irregularity to counter the towering enormity of truth. Lyssa was through torturing herself.

Chris was dead. The only thing left was to find his killer and make them pay.

“Let’s go,” she whispered. “I’ve gotten what I needed.”

After returning to her room, Lyssa collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to take her mask, coat, or holsters off. She’d gotten what she wanted but didn’t know where to go from here. The most likely explanation was the obvious one: Chris had somehow survived for years, only to die recently.

Lyssa sighed. Seeing the Northern Trickster had brought her no closure. It only ripped the wound open farther.

“I need to figure out what the hell happened,” Lyssa said. “I blew it off before, but the more I think about it, there’s a good chance it has something to do with Tristan’s investigation. He can help me find the person responsible, then I’m going to go up to them and explain to them exactly who I am before I take them out.”

“Mr. St. James might have already killed the man responsible,” Jofi said. “Given what he said, you shouldn’t dismiss that possibility.”

“No,” Lyssa stated flatly, “He killed the man responsible for an incident fifteen years ago, not something more recent. I’m willing to accept that Chris is gone, but I don’t think he died fifteen years ago. Our favorite spirit-based killer took out whoever was responsible, but he hasn’t associated it with my brother yet. I’ve got to figure this out.”

“I see,” Jofi replied. “How do you intend to pursue your brother’s investigation? As far as I could tell, you had no concrete plans other than visiting the Vault of Dreams upon your arrival.”

Lyssa sat up. “I’ll think of something. I just need some time to clear my head. It might be as simple as wandering a couple of dark forests until some asshole decides to jump me.”

“There is increased spirit activity near this room,” Jofi said.

Lyssa pulled a gun and loaded explosive rounds. While the Elders and the Tribunal frowned on unnecessary property damage, Last Remnant had strong self-defense laws. They very much bought into the idea of an armed society being a polite society.

She grinned. “I didn’t think it’d happen that quickly.”

A soft whisper tickled her ear, bringing a familiar voice—Tristan’s. “Meet me in the Garden of Glories.”

Lyssa shoved the gun back into the holster, disappointed. “I would have preferred the kind of assassin who was trying to kill me, but this gives me something to do other than sit and brood.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lyssa didn’t need Sumira or anyone else to show her the way to the Garden of Glories. She might not have been on the island for years, but the garden was one of the first places she’d visited on her first trip. It was one of those ridiculous sorcery-only landmarks that made Last Remnant more exotic than New Orleans on Mardi Gras, a place where people hung out in funny costumes and plotted to screw each other over.

She wandered down the perfect streets. No one paid her any special attention. A woman walking in shadow-cloaked regalia and a skull mask wasn’t unusual on Last Remnant. The more Lyssa thought about that, the more she wanted to laugh.

They all took the power, the regalia, and the hidden island for granted. Illuminated like her who hadn’t grown up on Last Remnant might be uncomfortable, but they rarely stopped to consider how absurd the whole idea was.

“Maybe I’m the one who’s been wrong,” she muttered.

“You’re talking about your brother?” Jofi asked.

“No.” Lyssa glanced around. There weren’t a lot of people around, and no one gave her a strange look for talking to herself. “I’m talking about the future. I figure we need some sort of coexistence, but being back at Last Remnant, I’m reminded that my kind might as well be from a different planet.”

“You’re still humans,” Jofi said. “Whatever differences in customs and individual abilities you have, your fundamental nature isn’t that different. You’re far from a gun spirit, for example.”

“True.” Lyssa craned her neck to take in a nearby tower. A flock of birds circled in, heading for the pointed tip. “There are a lot of weird customs out there. Maybe I’m overthinking it.”

“Do you believe Mr. St. James will have a good lead about possible rogues and assassins?”

Lyssa was grateful for the change of topic. Still reeling from the Vault, focusing on the two things she did best, killing people and breaking their things, calmed her.

“I don’t think he contacted me because he wants to talk about how much he wishes there was a sequel to Rainbow Chicken Screams So Loud,” she said.

“And you