by Kal Aaron
“You—”
Lyssa cut him off with a trigger pull. The bullet blasted through his chest with a bright flash, leaving a huge hole where flesh and bone had been. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a quiet croak came out. Alvarez fell to his knees with shock on his face before collapsing forward.
“Having a couple of toys doesn’t make you better than a Sorceress,” Lyssa snarled. She grabbed her other gun and holstered them both.
Her gaze lingered on Alvarez. The penetrator bullet had done its work well, enhanced by Jofi’s passive power.
She sighed. “I’d say I earned some more ice cream.”
Chapter Six
Lieutenant Lopez spoke quietly with the newly arrived FBI agents, scowling at Lyssa between sentences. She ignored him as she talked to Damien and leaned against her bike, glad the mask protected her identity. The news locusts were out in force.
Damien’s earlier antimedia efforts had collapsed before the power of First Amendment inevitability, leaving a street choked with news vans and reporters chatting in front of their cameramen. Three news helicopters now circled the area, along with tiny drones. Besides the professional reporters, twenty-something and teenage wannabe internet stars ran around the edges with their selfie sticks, trying to get reaction shots and fulfilling Damien’s prophecy.
A huge crowd of curious onlookers only interested in watching the story unfold added to the chaos. The police had set up cones. Uniformed officers kept curious locals and reporters back with the occasional stern rebuke or threat.
Lyssa glanced at the sun, which had barely moved. That pissed her off. It was like the sun was mocking her.
All the tension and concentration of the fight inside didn’t change that it had been a battle marked in minutes, not hours. It’d only taken as long as it had because of her restraint.
The conscious survivors of Lyssa’s attack knelt on the lawn, cops on guard around them. Many of the criminals remained unconscious, bruised, and bloodied. EMTs walked up and down the rows of men to triage and apply first aid. Some were being carried on stretchers toward waiting ambulances, bandages on their heads or arms. Non-lethal force didn’t mean harmless.
She didn’t care. Even ignoring their other crimes, they’d had plenty of chances of surrender, but they’d convinced themselves the shards would help them win. The price of their arrogance was a trip to the hospital.
That covered the living. The police hadn’t removed any of the dead bodies from the home, including Alvarez’s. There were detectives and FBI agents already inside, inspecting things and looking for evidence.
She wasn’t needed anymore. They hadn’t hired her to investigate Alvarez and the cartel.
No one had taken a statement from her beyond a couple of quick questions. They expected Damien to file a report he’d pass along to all the relevant agencies. It cut down on the complications from both ends.
Lyssa’s leg ached. She shifted position to take the weight off it.
Damien gestured at her leg. “Now that everything’s calmed down, you want someone to take a look at that? You’ve got a lot of holes in your outfit. They must have lit you up in there.”
“I’m fine.” Lyssa shrugged. “They got lucky a few times by throwing hundreds of bullets and some shards at me. Nothing big.”
“If you say so.” Damien’s gaze lingered on the wound. “I’ve seen you get torn up before. You keep on coming back, but you’re not immortal.”
“Says you.” Lyssa flexed. “People should learn not to mess with a goddess, and they won’t get their asses handed to them.”
“I’m not some hick. I know what you’re capable of.” Damien chuckled. “And I’d love to believe we had an immortal super-weapon on our side. Forget it. You cleared out a house filled with guns and shards and walked out. That’s a lot better than we could have done without your help. And since no one’s said it yet, I’ll say it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Lyssa was annoyed at the wounds for a reason she didn’t want to say out loud. Active healing spells were beyond her capabilities. Her regalia accelerated the healing process and would regenerate itself, but that just meant she’d have to keep it on for a while.
For all its disguise and shape-changing capabilities, there were limits to its power. There was no way it would feel as good as a nice, loose nightgown.
It would be a long night. She could supplement her healing with enchanted herbs, also courtesy of Tricia, but she’d taken too much damage to avoid discomfort for a day or two.
“So, uh,” Damien began, “now that the thanks are out of the way, there’s something we need to talk about. Unless you have somewhere to go.”
“Spit it out,” Lyssa said. “I have an appointment at this lovely place called my house.”
“Not the Hecate Cave?”
“Very funny.”
Damien inclined his head toward Lopez with an uncomfortable look on his face. “The lieutenant’s arguing you went overboard. The FBI isn’t keen that you gunned down Alvarez. They really, really wanted to work him for their investigation.”
“They’ve got plenty of people left alive.” Lyssa shrugged. “And I was being attacked with shards. If you consider how many people were attacking me, I didn’t kill a lot. The lackeys will know other higher-ranking guys and will have seen things.”
“I know that.” Damien looked uneasy. “But they wanted the big fish. I’m not saying I agree with them, but as a liaison, I’m trying to make the other agencies’ positions clear to our Society contractor.”
“Oh, I see.” Lyssa folded her arms. “The FBI thinks I was supposed to sit there and let Alvarez cave my head in with his shard-enhanced strength.” She shrugged. “Next time, make that clearer. I didn’t realize Sorceresses needed to die to make sure the FBI has an easier investigation.”
“It’s going to be a lot of paperwork for them, and also for me. We have to justify it every time one of you kills someone, you know, contract or not.” Damien gave her a pleading look. “I’m not denying that the government understands employing a Torch or an Eclipse has a high probability of ending in the use of lethal force, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t communicate everyone else’s concerns.”
“Concerns? What kind of concerns would they have had if they’d been the ones in there dodging exploding crossbow bolts and super-punches?” Lyssa stepped away from her bike and dropped her arms. “Give me a damned break. I think the FBI and the lieutenant have been snorting whatever drugs Alvarez’s boys sell.”
“Come on. I’m—”
A handsome face and a bright smile weren’t going to save Damien from her wrath. He was a liaison, yes, but that meant he also needed to communicate her problems to everyone else.
“I could have kicked in the door and killed everyone in there without breaking a sweat or getting more than a bruise.” Lyssa gestured at the house. “Instead, I went in there with my batons and knocked most of them out.” She pulled a baton out of her pocket and flicked it to its full length. “And I used sorcery to ensure that outcome instead of caving in their skulls.”
Cameramen in the distance all focused on her. Some of the nearby cops looked uneasy, but no one went for a gun. One of the internet kids shouted excitedly. Damien gave her an exasperated look but didn’t say anything.
Lyssa wanted them to watch. She wasn’t their pet Sorceress. Everyone needed to remember that.
“The first thing they tried to do was blow me up with a shard, remember?” Lyssa flung her arm with the baton in the direction of some cops, who ducked and covered their heads. “And even after that, when they started shooting at me with their special crossbows, I tried to take them alive. You ever been shot at with an elemental crossbow, Damien?”
“No, I can’t say that I have.” Damien sighed. “But I have been shot at.”
“Oh, you’ve been shot at. It’s totally the same thing. Wait, you ever been nearly blown up by a flame-blade trap? Hmm? How about that? Fo
ught a guy in a robe that makes him stronger anytime somebody dies around him?”
“No, I can’t say that’s happened either.” Damien averted his gaze.
“Then can we stop talking about this crap?” Lyssa frowned. “I didn’t violate my contract.”
“No one’s saying you’ve violated the scope of your contract, but they wanted Alvarez.” Damien shrugged. “That’s all I’m saying.”
“And I tried to get these guys to surrender a bunch of times.” Lyssa collapsed her baton and stuck it back in her pocket. “But they thought they could win. That’s the problem when non-Sorcerers get their hands on our toys. They don’t know their limits.”
“Yes, the shards.” Damien gritted his teeth. “That was unfortunate.”
Lyssa’s heart rate kicked up. Damien had picked the wrong word. She could have let it go if she hadn’t already been spun about her brother’s anniversary and angry about the job.
“Unfortunate?” Lyssa snarled. “What’s unfortunate is the tiny little detail where no one mentioned there’d be shard users in there. If I had known that from the beginning, I could have handled this differently, and maybe I wouldn’t have had to end up wasting an expensive penetrator round against Alvarez.”
“I’m sure you’ll finish ahead once you get paid.”
“That’s not the point.” Lyssa took a couple of deep breaths, unsure if Damien was being obtuse or was just a standard-issue myopic government agent. “The FBI wouldn’t have to complain about their suspect missing most of his upper body, either, but that’s not the main issue.”
“What is, then?”
A man that good-looking shouldn’t be annoying her. She’d barely paid attention to the aftermath after calling in the cops and letting all the government people do their bureaucratic dance. The Phoenix PD and the FBI must have pitched a fit to wind Damien up like that. It was time he understood what was at stake.
“If a SWAT team had gone in there, or the FBI had sent in an HRT,” Lyssa said, “there is a good chance you’d have a lot of dead cops and agents instead of a handful of dead gangsters. How would that look on the news? The first trap could have killed tons of guys. It might have killed me if I’d gotten hit.”
Damien looked uneasy. He glanced over his shoulder at Lieutenant Lopez and the FBI agents. “I don’t disagree fundamentally with anything you said, and you’re right. There was an intelligence failure somewhere along the line, especially considering how closely the FBI and the DEA have been watching Alvarez. Somebody should have mentioned the possibility that he was smuggling shards.”
“Something smells.” Lyssa shook her head. “I can’t be the only one who thinks so. Investigation’s a sideline for me, unlike the detectives and FBI, but I know how to poke around.”
“What are you suggesting?” Damien asked.
“It’s not cheap to hire a Torch.” Lyssa patted her chest. “And I have a hard time believing a random mayor would authorize it to clear out gangsters when he knew the feds were already on their way and eager to help. Sitting tight and letting the specialists do their job wouldn’t have cost anything more, and it wouldn’t look like they need a Sorceress to keep order.”
Damien cupped his chin. “But if someone whispered in his ear about shards, then it makes a lot more sense. Dead FBI agents all over the news would make Phoenix look like a war zone, and everyone would be screaming about why didn’t they send in a Torch to begin with.”
“Exactly. I think someone somewhere along the line knew Alvarez had shards, and I think they decided to have me clean it up on the cheap.” Lyssa leaned against her bike again, wanting to give her aching leg a rest. Getting shot could be inconvenient.
“I don’t know about that.” Damien shook his head. “You and the Society will still get bonuses because of what happened.”
“It still ends up cheaper than contracting a Torch to deal with a sorcery-based threat, let alone going through all the trouble to get the Society to send an Eclipse to deal with a rogue Sorcerer.”
Damien furrowed his brow. “These guys weren’t Sorcerers. They were normies using shards.”
A lot of non-Sorcerers were offended at being called Shadows, but she thought normie was a more insulting nickname.
Lyssa’s nose itched, and she wrinkled it under her mask. “I don’t know. That part I’m not sold on, but there’s no way I buy that no one knew about the shards.”
“I’m not saying I disagree. I’m trying to figure out where we go from here.”
“The simplest explanation is often the best. I think Samuel would have mentioned it if he knew. That guy might like his government connections, but he’s still an Elder in the Society.” Lyssa sucked in a deep breath. “Maybe I’m thinking too low-level on this. I wouldn’t put it past the government to have heard and decide not to mention it. This wouldn’t be the first time the EAA played a little fast and loose with their info.”
Damien frowned and leaned close to her, almost touching. “Come on, Lyssa, you know me. Don’t be like that.”
“Don’t use my real name ever when I’m in full-up Night Goddess mode,” she snarled. She stared at him until he backed off, looking contrite. “And I need explanations and soon. The next time I walk into a situation that’s supposed to be a bunch of normies, and I’m getting shot at with elemental crossbows and robes charged by death, I’m going to be a lot angrier. I’m not going to end up like…”
Like my brother, she thought.
“Like what?” Damien looked confused.
Lyssa frowned. “Forget about it. Just listen to what I said.”
“Fair enough, and I understand why you’re pissed.” Damien sighed. “I’ll do my best. There might have been a miscommunication somewhere, but I’m sure we can figure this out. I’ll get you an update within a week.”
Lyssa hopped onto her bike and started it. “You do that. I’ve got to go buy more ice cream. That’s another thing this night ruined.”
Damien blinked. “Huh? Ice cream?”
“What, am I speaking Lemurian? My ice cream melted.”
Lyssa pulled away, leaving the government agent staring after her, his expression confused. Driving around town with a wounded leg seemed like a bad idea, even with her regalia and painkiller herbs. It was time for some good, old-fashioned delivery.
Chapter Seven
“Ninety-eight,” Lyssa counted. “Ninety-nine. One hundred. One hundred and one.”
Sweat poured off her brow as she continued doing push-ups. Her muscles screamed at her to stop, but at least she didn’t feel any pain in her leg.
The wound was healed. A couple of days mostly spent in her regalia and Tricia’s herbs had taken care of it.
Maintaining physical readiness was critical, given her aggressive and acrobatic combat style. Efficient delivery of pain and harm with minimal active spell use was what made her such a good Torch.
Not only that, but it was also as good a time as any to work off the nervous energy and all the calories from the pints of ice cream she’d downed while marathoning TV and recovering from her injuries.
Lyssa tried her best to ignore the shadow cast by tomorrow’s anniversary of her brother’s disappearance. While she always remembered it, she never observed it because part of her felt it’d be like admitting her brother was dead. It was easier to throw herself into TV and exercise.
During her time at home, she’d binged the entire first season of Sensual Sorceress, a reality show in which thirteen men thought they were being set up for a chance to convince a Sorceress to marry them.
The show’s Sorceress was a Shadow actress. The featured sorcery was nothing but a lot of impressive timing and well-applied special effects.
For anyone with a taste for or knowledge of sorcery, everything about the show was a train wreck, from its take on regalia and sorcery to the ridiculous conceit that the alleged Sorceress on the show specialized in seduction magic.
This last led to a lot of painful melodramatic sequences of men cla
iming they were unsure if they loved her or were under her spell. Tight dresses, big boobs, and copious amounts of booze could be enchantments for the right sort of man.
Lyssa might have found the sorcery depiction ridiculous, but she proudly defended her self-declared trashy taste. She found the show strangely compelling.
In its way, it was a sociology experiment, exploring what Shadow men believed about Sorceresses. Contrived, yes, and edited for maximum entertainment, but the discerning woman could discover a nugget or two while watching a fake Sorceress who insisted she hadn’t used a so-called make-out spell on a man who was trying to suck her face off.
Chuckling about the thought of a bunch of men competing for her love, Lyssa lost count of her reps and lowered her body to the ground. After rolling onto her back, she took deep breaths of precious oxygen and stared at her white ceiling. She needed something up there—a ceiling fan, maybe.
Her thoughts drifted back to Sensual Sorceress. The show made sense on one level. Sex and love were at the basis of human existence for both the Illuminated and Shadows. Sorcerers and Sorceresses would have gone extinct a long time ago if they never tried to find someone outside their tiny circle.
Despite recent increases, there were barely two thousand adult Illuminated in the world, a far cry from their numbers in ancient Lemuria when there were far fewer Shadows. They might not have good records of everyone with Lemurian blood since the Cataclysm had sunk the continent ten thousand years ago, but she wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t a little of Lemuria in every country.
Sex, love, dating? Even a Torch needed a life.
The Sorcerer dating pool was shallow, but the Shadow pool ran into the billions. The problem was finding a Shadow she could trust. How long would it be before there was no more separation between the two strains of humanity?
Lyssa stood and shook out her arms. Worrying about relationships could wait for the future. She was still getting established in Phoenix after years in San Diego, and there was at least one non-personal loose end fraying in her mind.