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

they pulled everyone to the front? Even if she weren’t there, some SWAT guy could have dropped off a helicopter and smashed in through the window.

“Time to make a big entrance,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?” Jofi asked. “This might be a situation that would benefit from subtlety.”

“They didn’t hire me for subtlety. They hired me to take down Alvarez.”

Lyssa smashed the window with two quick strikes from her batons before diving into the hall and springing to her feet, batons at the ready. Numerous doors stood on either side of the hallway before it dead-ended at an elaborate spiral staircase. No one emerged from the doors, ready to shoot the intruder.

Pressure built in her chest, a sign of sorcery. Her heart rate kicked up.

“What the—”

A small crystal sphere popped out of the wall halfway down the hall, and a curtain of flame blasted from it.

Chapter Three

Lyssa reacted on instinct and bent backward until she dropped to the floor. The jet of flame ripped through the hallway, scorching the doors and walls on both sides. It scoured the wood and the drywall, slicing through them without setting them afire before missing her by inches. It was like someone had carved through the hallway with a burning sword.

The heat was intense even through Lyssa’s regalia and spells, but the flames didn’t burn her. Without anything to stop the spell, the blast hit the end of the hall and blew out what was left of the window in a house-shaking final strike. Pieces of wood and glass covered Lyssa.

She lay on her back and brushed the debris off her mask, unsure of what the hell had happened. Without her regalia enhancing her reflexes, the blast would have blown her out of the building. Surviving the first hit in a battle wasn’t good enough when she didn’t know the enemy’s capabilities.

Why was a Sorcerer with these random cartel idiots? Had she made a mistake by not trying to arrive in secret?

A dark memory of somber-faced Elders speaking to a teenage Lyssa surfaced.

Some information wasn’t made available to the assigned Torch. We believe that had your brother known what he was facing, the outcome would have been different. That was unfortunate.

Lyssa gritted her teeth and concentrated on the here and now. She didn’t have time to get distracted by things from fifteen years ago, no matter how important. The best way to find her brother was to become stronger, and that included not letting gangsters and rogue Sorcerers embarrass her.

Hushed murmurs came from downstairs. Lyssa couldn’t make them out, but there were a lot of men there. Their lack of screaming and fleeing in terror after the spell meant they had expected it.

Lyssa hopped up, clutching her batons tightly. Clever traps didn’t do any good if they didn’t hit the target.

“Are you unharmed?” Jofi asked, as calm as ever.

“My pride’s hurt for getting surprised,” Lyssa murmured. “Does that count?”

“No.”

Shadows played across the holes sliced through the doors by the spell. She wasn’t alone on the second floor.

“Someone screwed up,” Lyssa whispered. “I don’t know if it’s Samuel’s, the cops’, or the EAA’s fault, but someone should have known about the sorcery.” She lifted her batons. “No more Miss Nice Girl.”

There’d been more than enough time for whoever was on the second floor to emerge from the rooms, but they were hesitating for some reason. Were there more traps? Why didn’t the Sorcerer follow up on the attack?

The hushed words from below gave away to shouts, along with pounding footsteps. The sounds grew distant as they moved toward the other end of the house and the staircase.

“Keep on the door!” someone shouted from below. “We just nailed some SWAT bastard on the second floor. The rest of you assholes up there need to clean up! We’ll get ready down here.”

There was a mention of SWAT but no mention of a Sorceress. That was a bad sign for their internal communications. They also should have come after her immediately after the explosion, not that it would have helped. She was surprised they hadn’t been expecting her rather than the cops.

A door creaked open down the hall, surprised eyes peeking at Lyssa. The owner of the eyes, a hard-looking man covered with scars, emerged more fully.

“It’s not the cops!” he bellowed. “It’s the Sorceress!”

Lyssa charged down the hallway. The gangster pulled his gun, but she batted it out of his hand with her baton, sending it skittering down the hardwood floor. Her next blow smashed him into a wall. He slid to the floor, unconscious.

Other doors flew open behind her. Armed shouting men emerged. She spun and sprinted down the hallway in a zigzag pattern. They opened fire.

Bullets whizzed past her. A couple struck her; they stung but bounced off. She jumped into the air to kick and bat at her assailants, and her blows landed with loud crunches. The men groaned and cried out in pain.

Some fell unconscious. Others only suffered the pain of broken bones.

There was only so much restraint Lyssa would show armed killers. Being damage-resistant wasn’t the same thing as being immortal. Taking them down quickly was the best strategy to keep her from having to kill them, especially if a Sorcerer joined the battle.

Lyssa slammed an elbow into a man’s nose. He screamed and grabbed the offended protrusion. She finished him off with a spinning kick that launched him into another man. Their tangled limbs set up an easy combo for one of her batons. Both men fell to the floor, groaning before losing consciousness.

A thug tried to jam a gun against her head and pulled the trigger, but she ducked, and the loud report rang in her ears. She repaid him by cracking his arm at the elbow. He screamed and dropped his gun, only stopping his wailing when her follow-up to his chin sent him backward.

There were plenty of enemies left. The gangsters had relied too much on surprising her and shooting her from a distance. Fear filled the faces