by Kal Aaron
An old man close to the exit slowly surveyed the restaurant. His gaze skipped right past Lyssa and landed on a Goth high-school boy wearing a t-shirt with a band logo so ornate and unintelligible it might as well have been in Lemurian. Dark makeup, all-black clothes, and guyliner fit the stereotype more than Lyssa, a pretty, dark-haired woman in a ponytail, jeans, a white leather jacket, and a t-shirt featuring Kawatsu-chan, a cutesy pink Japanese unicorn mascot character. Even her boots came off as fashion-conscious suburbanite rather than dangerous biker.
As Grant babbled on, she tuned out the television conversation to focus on her meal. Damien or Reed needed to come up with something for her soon. The quicker she found the source of the shards, the less chance there was of idiots like Grant Harris whipping up a panic.
She also needed the case to be over for her peace of mind. Accepting that she was letting the anniversary mess with her and having clear proof the job had nothing to do with her brother were two different things.
Grant’s words stung because she knew people like him had the advantage in the war for the public’s trust. The sad truth was, standing up and announcing who she was might empty the restaurant. Greater numbers of Illuminated or more open relationships between her kind and Shadows might make things different, but as it stood now, her kind were outnumbered and often not trusted. She couldn’t even claim there weren’t good reasons for mistrust.
Saying the Illuminated feared Shadow society might be going too far. Sorcery might not be infinite, but Lyssa had defeated an entire house full of armed criminals only a couple of days prior and was back to working out without ever hitting a hospital. Superior numbers ensured an unequal relationship.
A freckle-faced teenage employee barely old enough to work walked past her, trays in hand. He stopped to smile. “Enjoying your sandwich?”
She smiled at him, unsure of what this was about. “It’s nice, yes.”
“That bike is bitchin’.” He nodded at the yellow Ducati outside. “I don’t know a lot about motorcycles, but it looks cool and fast.”
Lyssa laughed, her tension leaving with the sound. “I love my bike. It’s cool, yes, and fast. Faster than you could imagine when I’m trying.”
“Just surprised to see someone with a bike like that in here.” He eyed her for a moment. “And you don’t seem the type.”
“Hey, sometimes a girl needs a chicken sandwich.” She smiled. “And all sorts of people ride bikes.”
“I’ll get one someday, but right now, I’ve got to get all the trays.” The boy laughed and lifted them. “The Man’s always calling.”
“You do what you need to.” Lyssa waved at him as he stepped away.
Though she liked a good chicken sandwich, hunger hadn’t been the main force that sent her to Emperor Chicken. The truth was, sometimes she needed to get away from Jofi. It wasn’t like the spirit could hear her thoughts, but she always felt his presence when she was close.
Sometimes she wanted to be alone. It was ironic that going to a fast-food joint filled with people would make her feel more that way than sitting in her house. There were too many secrets in her life, too many mysteries.
It was pointless to worry about what she couldn’t change. She’d been born into the Corti family and come into true power. That might not mean she had a destiny, but she had a responsibility.
She offered her tray to the boy and glanced at the TV again. The interview was coming to an end.
“I think every normal person out there should remember what we’re saying and not let our opponents mischaracterize our stances.” Grant adopted a stern look. “Whether the Society wants to call it magic or sorcery, it’s all the same. There is a group out there with powers beyond normal limits. Many of these people don’t even do us the courtesy of showing us their faces. If you have nothing to hide, Hecate, why do you wear a mask?”
“Screw that guy,” the busboy said, sweeping by Lyssa to grab her tray. “I bet Hecate is hot. That’s why she wears the mask. She doesn’t want guys always hitting on her.”
Lyssa laughed. “You think so? You don’t think she looks like an old lady?”
“No one who kicks that much ass looks like an old lady.” The boy left with his trays.
It was nice to know not every Shadow was against her, but she was concerned about adults like Grant Harris. The Society needed to clean up to keep his influence from growing.
Alvarez hadn’t conjured his shards out of thin air. There was a good chance that somewhere, a Sorcerer had gotten greedy. Whatever else it had to do with her, someone needed to go down.
Chapter Nine
Lyssa groaned when her cell phone awakened her the next morning. She rolled toward her nightstand and groped for the offending piece of technology, then opened her eyes enough to hit the accept call button. It wasn’t until she’d done so that she realized it was from an unknown number.
There was silence, then a click on the other end. She muttered, awaiting the stupid computer voice attempting to sell her an extended warranty on her bike or claim she owed the IRS millions of dollars. Who needed sorcery when there were so many ways to con people?
A single word came over the line, the voice distorted, not male or female, but with familiar diction. “Chartreuse.”
Lyssa’s stomach tightened. The universe was trying to screw her over by making everything come at her at the same time. Before she could even think to reply, the call ended. She had no choice now but to take a little trip.
“I’m going to grab a bite to eat,” she announced. “I’ll just be going around the corner. No reason to get you out.”
“If you’re sure,” Jofi replied. “I’m surprised to see you eat so early.”
“Sometimes you’re hungry.”
Sure? No. This was one thing she’d never be sure about.
Lyssa sped north on I-17, appreciating the light morning traffic. She didn’t bother with her regalia. That meant she couldn’t go any faster than normal and needed to avoid speeding, but the caller wouldn’t have contacted her if he wasn’t close. She’d been riding for about an hour, and she knew she was almost there.
More importantly, she hadn’t brought Jofi, instead packing a similar-looking 9mm. It couldn’t handle enchanted ammo, but it would do in a pinch if she needed to shoot someone in the head.
The problem was the spirit could hear and see near his physical form, even through walls. This was one meeting she couldn’t risk him overhearing. As far as she could tell, less than twenty yards was his normal range.
“Jofi?” she asked to be sure. She wasn’t surprised by the lack of response.
The stray thought of an ambush came into her head. Without her regalia, her sorcery was far more limited, but her combat training and experience remained.
“It’s the anniversary, huh?” Lyssa scoffed. “Try and take down two different Cortis on the same day?”
Why was she thinking like that? Her brother wasn’t dead. It wasn’t like her family was cursed. Her parents had died on different days.
This had nothing to do with her brother. The code word Chartreuse had confirmed that. She went weeks at a time, sometimes months, ignoring where she’d gotten Jofi and why, but that didn’t mean it had changed. The man who’d contacted her was interested in the spirit.
A jade necklace was snugged securely under her white leather jacket. She’d grabbed it from her safe before heading out. While she wore it, she intuitively knew the right way to go.
She was getting closer to the target. I-17 fed into a state road, and an exit was coming up soon.
Lyssa took the exit, not spotting anything notable other than a sign warning her of no services at the next stop. That warning wasn’t unusual in this part of Arizona. More than a few ghost towns dotted the highways between the major cities. The desert didn’t forgive the weak.
She kept driving, and the necklace directed her toward another side road. After slowing, she continued for a couple of minutes.
The side road gave wa
y to a dirt path no one would call a road. She didn’t worry. Her fancy racing bike might have problems if she tried all-terrain driving without sorcery too often, but it would survive for a couple of minutes. She all but coasted, following the path of a dry creek bed until she stopped.
Her chest tightened, and the enchantment on the necklace kept her focused on the center of the creek bed. There was nothing there, and nothing seemed wrong, other than the increased pressure in her chest marking sorcery.
She stopped the bike. A man appeared out of nowhere.
No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t that he’d appeared; more that he’d been there all along, and she’d just noticed him. She’d encountered that kind of spell before from this same man.
The Sorcerer stood in the road in full regalia, green and red robes with elegant dragon figures stitched up the sides. The man wore no mask, but an elaborate golden headdress topped his head.
She knew he didn’t need a mask, although she couldn’t be sure she knew his true appearance. She thought he was a shaven-headed Chinese man in his mid-forties. At least, he had the skin of a man in his mid-forties, but trusting one’s senses around a Sorcerer with a mind essence was dangerous.
He currently wore the Imperial Sage regalia. Embodying the concept more completely might have included having other people see something more appropriate for tenth-century China than twenty-first-century America.
Lyssa lowered her kickstand and slid off her bike. She nodded at him before pulling off her helmet and setting it on the seat.
“It’s been a while, Lee,” Lyssa said.
“Yes, it has been, Miss Corti.” He watched her with a faint look of disapproval. “Some things came up, but since I was in the area, I thought it would be best to check with you directly. You should have anticipated that your move from San Diego would result in an earlier visit.”
“I moved because Samuel told me to.” Lyssa shrugged. “But getting down to business, Jofi’s secure. You didn’t need to come all this way if he’s what this is about.”
“It, not he,” Lee replied. He folded his hands behind his back. “As a reminder, I represent all the relevant parties in this regard. What I say is the unified voice of many. You don’t always appear to understand that.”
Lyssa snorted. “I get it. I don’t see the problem. I’m doing my part to keep Jofi’s seal intact, just like I have been for the last six years. You do your little mysterious visiting stranger thing every few months, and it’s the same every time. Don’t you ever get tired of it? If you were anybody else, I’d think you were getting off on it, but you’re as annoyed with it as I am.”
She’d only participated in the ritual to seal Jofi because she’d been ordered to by Samuel. At the time, he and the others had insisted it was for the safety of the world.
“Yes, annoyance covers it well.” Lee narrowed his eyes. “I was tired of it a long time ago, Miss Corti. Your involvement was a fluke, and I remain undecided about whether that’s a good thing. However, your unusual traits were useful at that time.”
“But what about the others?” Lyssa grinned, injecting all her sarcasm and defiance into the expression. “If you all came at me seriously, I couldn’t stop you. To be honest, I used to worry about that. Worry that I’d screw up somehow by your standards, and the next thing I’d be doing was fighting off a half-dozen Sorcerers bent on killing me.”
“We have no wish to harm you. Don’t misinterpret my distrust of you as a steward as a desire to hurt you.”
“But you would hurt or kill me if necessary.”
“Yes, if necessary.”
They watched each other in silence as a light breeze blew grass and twigs down the arroyo. Farther up it, blackened ground marked the edge of recent summer fires.
“As a group,” Lee continued, “we remain committed to it being bound to your weapons and feel that is the best solution with the least risk at this time.” His nose twitched. “But I’ve become concerned, especially since your activities are now more high-profile than when it was bound. The group thinks it’s appropriate for me to increase the frequency of my visits until the situation stabilizes.”
“Stabilizes?” Lyssa scrubbed a hand over her face. “You’re going to be up my ass until, what, you discover a way to destroy Jofi?”
“If necessary.” Lee’s expression didn’t change. The man didn’t need a mask. His face was a mask.
“Give me a break. The sealing happened before M-Day. High profile? Haven’t you heard? We’re all out of the top hat now.” Lyssa shrugged. “And let’s face it. The Shadows might like the occasional healer to help them out, but there’s nothing easier to understand than how to use something or someone as a weapon. It’s no big surprise that Torches are getting decently well-known. That’s not going to lead to any problems. They barely understand what regalia is. They aren’t going to figure out anything about dangerous spirits bound to guns.”
Lee’s gaze flicked to the ground as a small bark scorpion scuttled past. He lifted his foot and crushed the insect under his heel. It took all of Lyssa’s self-control not to laugh at the obvious symbolism.
“I have my concerns.” Lee inclined his head at her. “Your powers would be reduced without it. You can’t deny that.”
“I’m not a Shadow running around with shards.” Lyssa shrugged. “Yes, I can pull off a lot more stunts with Jofi’s help, but that’s not the same thing as being reliant. I rarely get even close to drawing on his full power. Besides, what do you care about my ability to do my job?”
“You misunderstand my concerns. Or you’re purposely missing the point.”
Lee made a quick series of elaborate hand gestures. A shadowy figure appeared in front of him, roughly humanoid but wavering and shifting constantly.
“Your concern is sorcery-enhanced puppet theater?” Lyssa asked. “You should move to Bali with that. We need more Sorcerers working the entertainment circuit.”
“Your involvement with it was necessary because your essence is darkness and your regalia is the Night Goddess. It was a unique combination of factors at a time that meant rare effectiveness against the grand emptiness spirit. It wasn’t like we had time to hunt for a lot of help when binding it. The fool who brought it to this world had no idea what he was doing. If he hadn’t already paid for it with his life, we would have punished him ourselves.”
“Sounds like I’m a hero,” Lyssa joked.
“Don’t forget it’s not defeated, only sealed and limited. There’s still a risk of it breaking free of the binding, especially if you draw too much power too often.” Lee strolled toward her, his hands behind his back. “Power is seductive, isn’t it? It’s the thing every Sorcerer wants. In the end, age brings refinement, not true extra power, but you might have found a way around that and think to take advantage of it. This is, after all, a time of great change. Certain factions are selfish and think more in terms of years than centuries.”
Lyssa stepped forward and squared her shoulders. “Here’s the thing. I’m not interested in Society politics. I don’t care what a bunch of fossils sitting around pretending this is 4000 BC say or do. I’m not a member of some faction seeking power.”
“It sounds like you’d like to change things. A devotion to changing the status quo is a de facto faction, Miss Corti.”
“I’m too busy with my own life to worry about the Society.” Lyssa stepped back and wondered if she could get away with punching him. “Jofi’s fine. He helps my work, and my work helps the Society and feeds him what he needs. Win-win-win.”
Lee’s eyes bulged. “Stop using the word ‘he,’ girl,” he shouted. “That thing isn’t human. It’s an emptiness spirit and an extremely dangerous one at that. The only reason we haven’t destroyed it outright is that we can’t risk losing people in the process or have it break free and go on a rampage. The more you pretend it’s a friend who thinks and feels like a person, the greater risk you take. It’s nothing more than an embodied concept, and even if we’ve tricked thi
s one and stripped away what it once was, that doesn’t mean it’s gone. It’s waiting beneath the seals, ready to be released.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Lyssa scoffed. “Screw you, Imperial Sage. I’ve got the situation under control.”
“Because of your violent lifestyle?” His tone dripped condescension.
“Partially. I think I’ve got a nice balanced way to feed Jofi without risk. What’s your plan without me? Toss sacrifices into a pit every few months and hope the angry god doesn’t wake up? As it stands, he’s been fed enough by my Torch work to not awaken for a long time, and that’s with me going out of my way not to kill people half the time.”
From what Lee had told her, Jofi took sustenance from the death of intelligent beings, which was a twisted aspect of its nature as an emptiness spirit. It wasn’t that it was absorbing their lifeforce as much as the resonant metaphysical energy of the transition between life and death, a ripple from the soul leaving the body.
Lyssa had worried enough about the implications of Jofi’s feeding not to agree to the ritual until another Sorcerer’s truth spell had verified Jofi wasn’t feeding on anyone’s souls. There were things far worse than death.
“It’s not a god!” Lee yelled. “It’s nothing more than a spirit.”
“Whatever. I’m not the one freaking out.” Lyssa shook her head. “I think after all these years, you’d trust me a little. I’ve not once damaged the seals or risked Jofi waking up. Not for a second, even when my life was on the line.”
“You’ll die rather than risk releasing it?” Lee asked. “It won’t believe it’s a gun spirit forever. You might not be able to escape.”
“I’ll do what it takes to protect people.” Lyssa glared at him “I’d feed myself to Jofi if that’s what it would take. That’s what it means to be a Torch.”
“There are ways to enforce that oath.”
“Screw you.” Lyssa sneered. “There’s no way I’m letting one of you freaks control me with a spell, and besides, you’re the one who told me it would risk messing with the seal and Jofi’s connection to me.”