by Kal Aaron
Another hallway led deeper into the house, but only the rec room and the huge empty kitchen were connected to the living room. She suspected Alvarez was hiding in the back of the house. Running would place him right in front of the cops surrounding the place, which meant he probably had a final surprise for her wherever he was holed up.
Turning her back on a bunch of heavily armed men when she couldn’t account for the sorcery she’d felt earlier was a good way to end up needing more than ice packs and herbs. She had to clear the rec room first.
“Come on, boys.” Lyssa waved her batons. “Don’t make me come in there.”
Four men she hadn’t seen before stepped toward the front of the rec room. They all held crossbows and were grinning from ear-to-ear. She widened her stance on the other end of the room, ready to engage. The pressure in her chest and the men’s cocky attitude signaled that they weren’t holding ordinary crossbows.
More shards. Now things were getting interesting.
Sometimes a man needed a reason to listen to his instincts. Lyssa didn’t believe these gangsters could look at a room full of their beaten-down friends while a woman in a death mask and bloody shadow-covered batons fearlessly stared them down, even if they carried shard crossbows.
“You sure you want to do this?” Lyssa asked, infusing her voice with hostility. “You’re not just asking for death, you’re begging for it. You know who I am, right? I am Hecate, Sorceress and Torch of the Illuminated Society. The longer you oppose me, the more you risk your life. I’ve defeated every man you’ve sent at me, and I’m not required to spare your lives if you challenge mine.”
The men raised their crossbows and chanted a phrase in Latin. A flaming bolt appeared in one crossbow. In another, a bolt made of dark stone materialized. The third weapon was loaded with solid ice ammo, while the fourth held a barely visible bolt made of swirling dust.
“He wants us to test these,” Mr. Firebolt said, his body trembling with excitement. “We were saving them for the cops, but now we got ourselves a bruja.”
“Having some toys doesn’t make you my equal,” Lyssa replied, her voice a growl.
“We got the magic now, bitch. You’re nothing. You run away right now, and we will let you go. Everyone will know Alvarez and his boys beat Hecate.”
Lyssa growled. “Okay. Fine. Bring it on, idiots.”
Chapter Five
Mr. Firebolt shot his bolt. Lyssa cartwheeled out of the way, not eager to test her defenses against an enchanted weapon without more info. The bolt exploded into a curtain of flame behind her, setting the wall on fire. A wave of heat passed over her.
“Yeah!” Mr. Firebolt shouted in triumph. “You’re gonna die, you bruja bitch!”
His friends nodded their eager agreement, spreading out but not firing. A long needle flipped up from the center of the crossbow. Mr. Firebolt stepped back and jammed a finger into it. Blood seeped from the wound, disappearing into the needle.
That answered one question. She could use the revelation to work their nerves.
“This is what you don’t get about sorcery.” Lyssa stepped back in front of the burning wall, twirling her batons in her fingers. “You can think of it as magic all you want, but there’s no way to get something for nothing in this world.”
“Does that include you?” Mr. Firebolt asked.
The other three men fired. Ready for the attack, she dove to the side. The enchanted bolts passed over her, the ice round striking the wall first. A sheet of ice coated the wall and quenched the flames from the earlier attack. It would save the fire department some work.
Mr. Stonebolt’s shot struck next. It shattered the ice, showering the nearby area with small frozen chunks mixed with hard, sharp pieces of rock. A follow-up attack from the dusty bolt clarified its nature as a wild gust of wind burst from it, knocking Lyssa into an overturned table and scattering bits of stone, charred wall, and ice all over the room.
The instant storm forced the men back. They didn’t keep both hands on their weapons, throwing up one to keep the rock and ice out of their eyes. A vase knocked over by the wind crashed to the floor and shattered.
“I recommend you make full use of your resources,” Jofi said. “Including me.”
“I’ve got this,” Lyssa whispered. “The guys upstairs did a better job than the Four Horsemen of the Idiocalypse here. The real question is how fast they can reload and how much blood the shards need.”
“You’re going to die here, Hecate,” Mr. Firebolt shouted. “We’re going to shoot you and leave nothing but that mask, and Alvarez’s gonna hang it up on his wall as a trophy, just like he has badges from all the pigs and feds he’s killed.”
Lyssa did her best not to look down on Shadows. Human society had accomplished brilliant and impressive things, including sending people to the Moon. But there was something galling about the punk standing there with an enchanted crossbow threatening a trained combat Sorceress. He needed a good lesson.
A flaming bolt formed slowly in Mr. Firebolt’s crossbow, answering her earlier question and summoning a slow, cold chuckle from Lyssa. The other men stepped back, feeding their blood to their weapons. A weapon was only as good as the tactics supporting it.
“You’re going to kill me?” she asked. “I am the night. I am fear. I am death.”
“You’re gonna be dead,” Mr. Firebolt yelled.
Lyssa leaped over a couch and charged him, raising her batons. He rushed backward, grunting as he slammed into a wall. The other three men hustled to different corners of the room but kept their hands on the needles.
Mr. Firebolt’s face twisted in an angry grimace as he raised the crossbow, the bolt not fully formed, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
“You should have checked the manual,” Lyssa said, arriving in front of the man.
She smacked the crossbow out of his hands with a double strike before bringing her knee up. The man groaned briefly before a backswing with her left baton sent him to the floor.
Lyssa spun to face the other men. “All things have limits.”
Mr. Icebolt’s needle lowered, and he offered her a grin as cold as his enchanted ammo. “Get down on your hands and knees and beg. Maybe we’ll let you go.”
“Do you understand the situation you’re in?” Lyssa replied, holding her batons out at her sides. “You’re a child holding a stick and pretending it’s a sword against a real dragon.”
“You’re afraid.” Mr. Icebolt laughed. “That’s why you’re being so careful.”
“I’m being careful because the police want people they can question. If I come to believe there’s a real risk to me, my concern over that goes away, idiot, and you die within seconds.”
Uncertainty flicked across the thug’s face, but he didn’t drop his weapon. The other men maintained their positions. They’d improved their trigger discipline, but they were down a quarter of their force.
“I again recommend more extreme measures, including using me,” Jofi said. “Them employing multiple shards increases the risk to both of us.”
Lyssa ignored the spirit. She’d knock sense into the crossbow squad without her guns. Her pride was on the line.
She threw her left baton at Mr. Icebolt before charging at a nearby wall. He yelped and shot at her, and the bolt whistled past her into the rec room. It struck the pool table and turned it into a mini-ice rink.
Mr. Icebolt’s two friends tried to follow her with their crossbows, frustration building on their faces as they failed to line up a clean shot. Lyssa jumped and bounded off a wall to launch toward the backpedaling first thug. She crashed into him and knocked him over, sending his ice crossbow flying. Two quick left jabs dazed him and she brought down her right baton.
“This ain’t happening!” screamed Mr. Windbolt. “We’ve got the crossbows. She can’t win.”
Lyssa rolled over to collect her downed baton and hopped to her feet as he fired. She spun to avoid the bolt, but it caught the edge of her coat and caused ano
ther heavy gust that propelled her into the air. She smacked into a ceiling fan, bending a blade before falling to the floor with a loud thud. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her batons.
She hissed. Her entire body ached, but she hadn’t broken anything. There was nothing worse than a thug who learned quickly. That was the most solid hit any of them had landed on her during the entire raid.
“I did it!” Mr. Windbolt yelled.
Lyssa rolled out of the way and jumped to her feet before Mr. Stonebolt could line up an attack. She wasn’t doing badly for someone who had been shot multiple times, nearly blown up, and slammed into a ceiling fan.
“I again recommend my use,” Jofi said.
“Shut up,” Lyssa snapped. “The situation is under control, and they’re down to two guys.”
Mr. Windbolt grinned. “Feeling nervous?” he asked, mistaking the target of her words.
His stupid grin annoyed her. He mistook one lucky hit for a win.
“I thought you magic types were supposed to be all special and badass?” Mr. Windbolt shoved his left palm against the greedy needle supplying his weapon and stomped his foot down on one of her lost batons. “But you’re nothing once we get magic weapons.”
Mr. Stonebolt looked more relaxed. He ran over to the other fallen baton and kicked it behind him. Mr. Windbolt nodded at his friend with an eager gleam in his eyes. The poor, deluded souls thought they had the upper hand.
The problem with using guns, regardless of bullet type, was that it was a lot harder to avoid killing a man when you used them. However, no one had mentioned thugs armed with shard crossbows or enchanted traps during her briefing.
“You get your wish,” Lyssa muttered, her gaze flicking between the men.
“You gonna surrender?” Mr. Stonebolt asked, sounding surprised. He didn’t pull his finger off the needle. “You can run if you want. If we both miss, you might be able to get out of here alive.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, moron.” Lyssa’s hands inched toward her jacket. “I was talking to Jofi.”
“Who the hell is Jofi?”
Lyssa yanked out both pistols and fired. Mr. Stonebolt dropped to the ground in a heap, blood pooling around him. The idiot hadn’t even been wearing a bulletproof vest.
Mr. Windbolt shouted in rage and fired his newly reloaded crossbow toward her feet. Lyssa vaulted over a nearby downed table, and the blast of wind launched her toward her attacker. His eyes widened as she fired twice with both guns, putting four rounds into his chest before landing into a roll that set her back on her feet.
Loud clapping sounded from the hallway. Lyssa spun toward the source, her guns ready. Alvarez stood there in a blood-red robe covered with arcane sigils and glyphs. A gaggle of men surrounded him on either side, all armed with submachine guns.
“You’re not a Sorcerer.” Lyssa narrowed her eyes. “You’re a man with toys. I’ve been trying to be a nice girl here. Well, nice-ish? But that’s over. Your choice, Alvarez. Final choice. Surrender, and I can guarantee you won’t die. Fight, and you’ll end up like your crossbow boys.”
“I like you.” Alvarez smiled. “I could use a woman like you in my organization. I don’t know what they’re paying you, but I’ll pay more. And my bosses can pay you even more than that. You don’t have to be full-time. We understand a woman like you doesn’t like to be told what to do. We can respect that.”
“You feed off human misery,” Lyssa spat. “How many innocent people has your cartel harmed?”
“Don’t act high and mighty, Hecate. You have your fancy costume, and you think you’re all that, but how is your Illuminated Society different from my cartel? They’re both about control and power. They call you a Torch. We’d call you a sicario. They send you to shoot and kill. We’d do the same.” Surveying the unconscious and dead men, Alvarez sighed. “I’m not going to hold it against you that you killed some of my guys. We respect strength.”
“Sorceresses aren’t so easily bought. The Illuminated Society is older than all of your so-called civilizations, let alone your pathetic cartel.”
Alvarez laughed. “You hear that, boys? She’s a paid killer, but she can’t be bought.”
His thugs all laughed. They didn’t look as tense as any of the other men she’d fought. Alvarez’s robe radiated strong sorcery. Whatever it did, the outfit was a lot more powerful than the crossbows.
“Let’s be real.” Alvarez’s smile vanished. “If your Society was clean, I wouldn’t have all these toys, now would I? Some bruja comes in here and thinks she’s better than me because she wears a mask?” He gestured at one of the dead men. “I wasn’t going to make you pay, but you made this easy. This robe has a cost, you know? The cost is life, and my boys’ death has made me strong. Even in death, they’re serving me and the cartel. That’s loyalty.”
Lyssa pointed the guns at him. “I didn’t kill most of your people.”
“What, you ask for mercy now?” Alvarez sneered. “Damn. You’re nothing more than a weak chick in the end?”
“Mercy?” Lyssa scoffed. “Nope. I’m thinking if I kill you, there are still plenty of people for the cops and FBI to interrogate.” She backed up slowly, keeping her guns pointed at Alvarez. “And I’d like to not damage the robe if possible. It’ll help a friend of mine score some points when it’s turned in.”
“Kill this crazy bitch,” Alvarez shouted.
Lyssa ran toward the rec room and out of the line of fire. That didn’t save her when the thugs held down their triggers and released a hail of bullets into the living room. Bullets ripped through the front window, shattering them. The projectiles riddled the wall and door with holes.
Bullets struck up and down Lyssa’s body, adding more damage to her regalia. Fiery pain shot through her thigh, and the layered defenses, including the enchanted mesh on her chest, could only do so much to dull the hits. She wore the Night Goddess, not the Stone Giant.
Lyssa backflipped off the wall, avoiding some of the shots as she returned fire. She ignored Alvarez, sweeping her arms back and forth and rapidly pulling her triggers. Their boss might have a shard, but it wasn’t going to save his men from the high-velocity rounds of her enchanted pistols ripping through them.
She ran toward an overturned table and slid behind it, firing the entire time. More men dropped to the ground with new holes in their heads. The idiots needed to understand she could survive being shot many times and keep fighting. They couldn’t.
Bravery was overrated. Winning wasn’t.
The sad part was she’d not even used any enchanted ammo yet. Each of her rounds tearing through the men was a normal bullet, though with Jofi residing in the pistols, the muzzle velocity was increased to the point where it was like getting shot with a high-powered rifle.
Lyssa fired through the table, emptying her magazines before ejecting them and reloading. No one else was shooting back.
Her heart pounding and sharp pain suffusing her leg, she rolled from the table to the couch, readied both guns, and jumped up. Alvarez was the only man still standing, though his robe now shone with a dull red light and his eyes glowed solid red.
Alvarez whistled. “You are one impressive woman, Hecate. I wonder what you look like under that mask. I’m thinking you’re a badass abuela with a big scar across your face.”
Lyssa kept silent. Everyone seemed to think she was old under the mask, but that didn’t matter. The more ancient they believed she was, the better she could intimidate them. Sorceresses and Sorcerers could make use of the centuries of folklore associating age with power.
“Your men are all dead or out cold,” Lyssa rumbled. “I’m still standing. Surrender, Alvarez, or die. Don’t be an idiot.”
“You are still standing.” Alvarez looked her up and down. “You’re shot up but barely bleeding. Your kind is special. You see all that on TV, and it makes you wonder, you know? They say all these special people are walking around, but most normal people won’t ever meet one.” He ran a hand over the robe.
“This would have been enough to make me believe in your power, but now I’ve seen it. When I kill you, I’m going to become a legend.”
“Enough of this crap.” Lyssa fired both guns at Alvarez.
He jerked back before standing up straight, then poked his fingers through the new holes in his robe before kicking a crushed bullet out of the way. “I’ve got one of your costumes now.”
Lyssa scoffed. “That’s not regalia, it’s just a shard. And you’re not a Sorcerer. You have no chance against me.”
He spread his arms out. “You just killed a bunch of guys and gave me power.”
Alvarez charged at her. Lyssa kept firing, but he continued toward her. He swung a fist, and she dodged the blow with a quick jump. His momentum carried his hand into and through a nearby wall with a hardwood veneer.
“Damn.” Alvarez yanked his fist out of the wall and shook off the dust. “It doesn’t even hurt.”
“I recommend using more powerful ammunition,” Jofi said.
Lyssa sighed and tossed one of the guns to the ground before ejecting the magazine of the remaining weapon. “Agreed.”
Confusion swallowed cockiness on Alvarez’s face. He frowned at the fallen gun. “Why not throw both away if you’re giving up? You can’t shoot me with an empty gun. If you’re trying to trick me, it doesn’t matter. I’ve got the robe, and you gave me the power. I’m in charge here.”
Lyssa pulled an orange-tape-marked magazine out of a pocket and shoved it into her gun. Alvarez frowned.
“Who said anything about surrendering?” she asked. “I let myself get all shot up because of what the cops and FBI wanted, but I’m not going to sit here and let some idiot drug dealer with delusions of grandeur punch me through walls. You’re not the only one with a reputation to maintain.”
“Don’t you get it?” Alvarez snarled. “You’re nothing, bruja. I have your power now. You can’t hurt me.”
“You should be honored.” Lyssa sucked in a breath. “This is expensive. And stop calling me a bruja. I’m not a damned witch.” She gestured with her free hand toward her head. “See? I don’t have the damned hat.”