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

be honest. We don’t care about you. We care about the shards, and we know you’ve been selling them. The word is you’re a supplier, not a middleman, but we both know you aren’t making them, and I’m willing to bet you didn’t find them. You know what I want, Chaddie Boy? What will keep you from getting eaten?”

“What?” he whimpered.

“I need to know where they’re coming from. The FBI and EAA may come for you, but you can live through the night with your soul intact. You’re not that important to us.”

She tried not to laugh. She deserved an Oscar for her performance. She wasn’t going to execute a helpless, defeated enemy, but he didn’t need to know that.

Aisha watched impassively. The flames of her dagger licked the air.

“W-what happens if I tell you?” Sellers asked. “If I give up my source to y’all, I’m dead anyway.”

“How can your source hurt you if we stop them first?” Lyssa stood and tilted her head, the depth of shadow making the angle look more severe. “Tell us the truth and maybe die later, or die now in an awful way. Your choice, but if it were me, I’d choose later.”

“I-I don’t know where he’s getting them.” Sellers licked his lips. “He approached me last month, showed me some things, made me an offer. Said he had a good source. I don’t know if he’s one of you Sorcs. He had a mask on, but he didn’t do any magic. I didn’t care when I saw what he could get me, but it wasn’t a fancy mask like yours. It was just a ski mask.”

Aisha lifted the flaming dagger in front of her face. “Interesting story. I almost want to believe you. Almost.”

“I’m telling the truth. You have to believe me.”

Lyssa frowned. The mask screamed Illuminated, and not every Shadow appreciated how easily they could be disguised. It was time to press harder.

“Where is he?” Lyssa shouted. “Tell us where he is if you want to live.”

“I don’t know that!” Sellers doubled over again, shaking, cradling his mangled hand, which was starting to turn purple and black. “B-but I know where he’s going to be. There’s a cargo transfer in Houston tomorrow morning.” He glanced at the clock. “I mean this morning. The shards are going to be in a shipping container that’s getting offloaded there. I have guys down there to drive a truck and pick it up, but Nelson’s guys are the ones who are going to make the transfer.”

“Nelson’s the masked man?” Lyssa asked.

Sellers gave a shallow nod. “I can give you the exact time of the drop-off. Nelson supervises them all. He’s always there, and we’ve already done a half-dozen drops. He’ll be there.”

“How do we know you won’t call Nelson the second we leave?” Lyssa asked.

“Because you’ll kill me.”

“True.” Lyssa shrugged. “I’m glad you understand your situation.”

Admitting she wouldn’t do that in cold blood wouldn’t help the interrogation, so she let the implication hang in the air. But another idea came that would ensure surprise against the mysterious Nelson.

Lyssa returned her hands to normal and removed the more intimidating aspects of her current appearance. “When is this handoff?”

“It’s at 7:00,” Sellers said. “And I’ve got the terminal and cargo container ID.” He rattled off the info. “I don’t know if he’s pulling strings, but there’s never a lot of other people there during the handoffs.”

Lyssa chuckled and pulled out her phone to tap in the ID. Not exactly the stuff nightmares were made of. “You memorized a container ID?”

Sellers shrugged. “Yeah, so people like you couldn’t find it if they were sniffing around. Phones weren’t secure even before you Sorcs showed up. And now I’m going to have to sit here and think I’m going to be dead soon.”

“Don’t worry about any of this.” Lyssa reached toward him with her hand outstretched. “By the time you wake up, this will all be over.”

Ten minutes later, Lyssa and Aisha stood next to a smoldering pile of phones. Deep-sleep spells had been cast on all the men and their phones incinerated.

The finishing touch was far less impressive, a handwritten sign saying, DO NOT DISTURB UNDER ORDERS OF MR. SELLERS. It was embarrassing.

Lyssa had her doubts it would work, but she wanted to fend off any potential housekeepers who might show up. Random smugglers who had all-night parties must have all sorts of odd quirks their staff was used to. She hoped so, anyway.

“You sure we shouldn’t burn down the house?” Aisha cocked her head.

“And guarantee the fire department comes? Not to mention, these guys might be scum, but we didn’t identify ourselves as Torches when we came in, nor do we have an extermination contract for them. Killing them would make things complicated not just for the EAA but for the Society.” Lyssa shrugged.

“We could move them all somewhere else and then burn down the house.” Aisha smiled. “It would be a nice punishment for this scum.”

“Not everything needs to be solved with fire.” Lyssa snorted. “Sometimes you have all the subtlety of a nuclear weapon.”

“And you walk around in a skull mask, friend.” Aisha shook her head. “We only have four hours until the handoff.”

“We can both get places fast when we need to, but I can do it without letting every Shadow in five states know. I don’t think you can maintain your speed as long as I can on my bike.” Lyssa groaned. She didn’t like what needed to come next. “You said your car was registered under a fake identity, right?”

“Of course. I don’t leave easy trails.”

“You leave trails of destruction,” Lyssa replied. “The point is, you can leave it here, and it’ll eventually end up back where it needs to be. You can’t push that whole car with your sorcery for that long.”

“But we have some time before the handoff.” Aisha’s face twisted into a frown.

Lyssa shook her head. “It’s better to get there with time to spare so we can get