Unstoppable Liv Beaufont Boxed Set

by Sarah Noffke

  “You’re creating a façade, so as to not draw attention,” Liv realized.

  “Yes, because you’re drawing enough attention,” he said with a laugh.

  “Should I stop?” she questioned. Getting closer to the truth was the only thing Liv had wanted for a long time, but she’d given up, and then she’d forgotten.

  “No, keep doing what you’re doing,” Clark told her. “I wasn’t able to tell you this publicly, but what you did with this case was brilliant. Mom and Dad would have been extremely proud of your bravery.”

  Liv didn’t know what to say to that, and the tension in her throat was so tight it was hard to breathe through it.

  “Liv, going forward, I want us to work together,” Clark said, holding out a hand. “But that means you’re going to have to be upfront with me. Trust me, and also listen to me when I give you advice. Do we have a deal?”

  Liv eyed his armored hand. He was offering a true partnership. That was how the Warriors and Councilors were supposed to operate, but they hadn’t been acting in that way since the beginning. She thought of the House of Seven and how it had been set up to create balance. Warriors and Councilors, working together to protect magic. Her parents had loved and honored those roles. They had risked everything for them because that was what they believed in.

  And although Liv had doubted the honor of the House of Seven for so long, deep in her core, she felt that its original mission was still true. The partnerships the Founders had set up were a beautiful thing, meant to preserve one of the most powerful forces in the world: magic.

  Liv took Clark’s hand and shook it, looking him directly in the eyes. She felt invisible energy bind their hands, as if creating a pact. “Yes. To working together, brother, so that we can find the truth and also protect magic.”

  Clark smiled back at his sister. “Actually, do you remember what Dad used to say about truth and magic?”

  Liv thought for a moment and was about to tell him that she didn’t recall, but then a voice she hadn’t heard in ages and had sorely missed echoed in her head. She spoke the words as they sounded in her mind. “The truth that binds all things is the ultimate way to protect magic, but first it must be discovered.”

  Sarah’s Author Notes

  January 29, 2019

  Returning to my fantasy roots after a stint in science fiction and chick lit, has been majorly awesome. I still had to put some scifi elements in this series though, because that’s my thing. The magic tech was a lot of fun and hopefully will complicate things (in a good way) as the books progress.

  When Michael and I were crafting this universe, I remember sitting on the floor of my office and writing notes as he spouted off ideas. Those notes are pretty much unreadable. I’ve decided that I’m going to start recording our conversations, since then I can actually go back and review everything he said. Seriously, Michael, do you take speed talking classes?

  Michael was pretty adamant, early on, that there be a giant on Liv’s team. He kept calling him George, which totally made my notes hilarious when reviewing: “George throws her into a bar fight.” “George is secretly nice.” “George wants a tall girlfriend.” The reason this is especially funny is “George” is the fake name I call my ex-husband in books and on social media to protect his identity. George is secretly nice. Very secretly.

  At one point, we were trying to figure out a companion for Liv. Dogs are great, but that’s been done a lot. Then there are trolls and fairies and whatnot. I threw out there that Liv’s sidekick was a cat. To which Michael asked, “Why a cat?”

  I looked up at my office chair at that moment to find my own cat sitting in my spot. That’s why I’d taken a seat on the floor. Damn animal runs the show at my house. That’s when Plato was created.

  The next morning, I randomly opened these chaotic notes to a page. It read, “Dogs are hookers.”

  Seriously, I need to record our conversations. Piecing together the notes and trying to figure out all the awesome ideas we wanted included in this first book took some time. I’m pretty sure I had to turn the notebook upside down, at one point, to read the words that went around the paper. Still, I think it all worked out. Michael got his giant and I got the cat and many of the best moments in the book came out of that first conversation.

  Michael randomly throws out ideas when we’re talking. They always get me thinking and bring a freshness to the book. One such idea was when Liv got drunk. Michael was talking about Liv being a rebel and said, “And so this guy says, ‘Are you drunk?’ and Liv answers, ‘Are you ugly?’ Then later she can be like, ‘Well, you’re still ugly.’”

  And that’s how the magic happens. I believe that I’ve become a better writer working with Michael. He helps me to innovate my own writing. And has taught me that sometimes the best chapters are where the characters just chill and explore and bond. Oh, and the banter.

  I loved crafting this series as a team and look forward to many more.

  Without further ado, I’ll turn the mic over to MA. I’m sure he can’t wait to tell you about why he didn’t go down the slide in Bali. Everyone else was doing it…

  Michael’s Author Notes

  January 31, 2019

  THANK YOU for not only reading this story but these Author Notes as well.

  (I think I’ve been good with always opening with “thank you.” If not, I need to edit the other Author Notes!)

  RANDOM (sometimes) THOUGHTS?

  DOGS ARE HOOKERS

  I wonder if Sarah is going to look at all the items she mentioned in her Author Notes and say, “Really? Dogs are hookers is the piece you took out of that?’

  First, she does mention the whole “I’m going to record our conversations” part in our talks. However, that comment has been made multiple times, and it hasn’t yet occurred, so I’m lumping it in there with “the check’s in the mail,” “words are on the page,” and “the sequel will be done soon.” That isn’t a comment about Sarah, she writes FAST.

  Ok, back to dogs.

  If you follow Sarah on social media, she mentions this …”cat” (for lack of a better term, since that is the physical form the conniving jester sent to punish humankind is walking around in at the moment.)

  Don’t believe me? Why is a grown-ass adult woman who wouldn’t let a man move her from her desk allowing a one-foot-tall meowing monstrosity do it? Hmmm? See…

  It’s true.

  Now, back to dogs.

  Wait, back to the cat. I didn’t finish that thought.

  Anyway, she mentions her cat and ALL the issues she has with it, and I believe has tried to sell or give away said cat multiple times. She has a dysfunctional relationship with her cat. Then again, most (but not all) cat owners have a master-slave relationship with their cat.

  I guess we know who is prepared for the alien overlord future.

  Anyway, I’m giving Sarah grief about her cat challenge, laughing at her as she TRIES to defend her position (can’t, it’s objectively a problem) and she mentions that cats give their love to precious few. The chosen. The chosen few of the cats that receive their benevolent love.

  “So, dogs are hookers, then?” I asked.

  And BAM! We have an Author’s Note.

  AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS

  One of the interesting (at least to me) aspects of my life is the ability to work from anywhere and at any time. In the future, I hope to re-read my own Author Notes and remember my life as a diary entry.

  This will be short—I’m in my dark(er) office. Power was shot to hell when the “neighbors” up a couple of floors had a contractor flood their unit, the unit beneath them, and one over (ours) right before the Christmas holidays.

  We were leaving for six weeks.

  Ok, so fans installed, holes drilled in walls, and vents cut out to dry the walls. I’m told I will have electricity in my office when everything dries.

  We were gone for six weeks, practically. Fans were finished, we arrive back (to a messy office because of moving
stuff around for the fans) and electricity…

  Is still not working.

  People come back over, go to the jack in the floor. “Yup, water is probably in the floor. It hasn’t evaporated because of the PVC pipe, and that’s why it won’t work.”

  It would have been nice for someone to have thought about that BEFORE we left on vacation. So, right now I’m sitting in the dark office, typing on the laptop with light streaming in from the nearby bathroom.

  With another fan blowing air into a 4” hole to dry out the long pipe.

  Just for giggles, they hooked up the lights in the other bedroom to the same circuit. So, there is no electricity in that room either.

  I recognize that we are blessed to have electricity at all, and no electricity in two locations isn’t the biggest problem.

  But, have you counted how many things you plug in to charge up in your life?

  It’s a lot.

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  Ad Aeternitatem,

  Michael Anderle

  The Uncooperative Warrior

  Chapter One

  The sound of monks chanting in the distance reminded Adler where he was. It shouldn’t have been hard to remember, given the stone walls and ever-present musty smell in the hall, but he still felt disoriented each time he visited this location. Those were the wards, he reminded himself. The protections that had been placed on the monastery centuries before to guard that which it held.

  Beside him the old monk hurried, the keys in his fingers clattering as he staggered forward, a lantern in his other hand. In the distance, a dripping sound made a pleasant drumming that accompanied the chanting.

  “I don’t remember the last time I saw you,” the monk named Niall said, squinting into the dark.

  “You wouldn’t,” Adler replied, careful to keep the bundle under his robes safe and unseen. The old monk’s memory had been wiped so many times that he was close to dementia. Still, in the recesses of the old man’s mind, he remembered Adler well enough to let him into the monastery each time. Niall alone knew the path they took through the catacombs under the ancient monastery. When he was close to passing, his knowledge would be passed onto another monk, as it had for centuries.

  Adler had never liked entrusting something so important to a mortal, yet that was the safest way. The information wasn’t even safe in his mind, he believed. Some things were so important that the measures it took to protect them were worth these risks. He rested his hand on the canister under his robe. Stored magic was one of those things. In the wrong hands, it could be earth-shattering. What Adler feared most was that the magic he held now would open doors that had been shut long ago. It was better for everyone this way.

  Bats dove from the arched ceiling as the two men strode through the next tunnel. A larger dark form streaked after the bats, startling Niall.

  “What was that?” he asked, halting and holding up the lantern.

  Adler urged him forward. “It was nothing. Only a shadow.”

  The old monk didn’t look convinced as he inched forward, having to nearly be pushed to continue.

  “I’m not sure what it is you do down here,” Niall stated. “There’s nothing here but endless hallways and entrances to the great spire.”

  “It is none of your concern.” Adler grew restless with worry the longer they stayed down there. The monastery was protected from portal magic, which meant he was trapped if something happened. Not being able to use magic here was part of the protections, although the irony wasn’t lost on the old magician.

  Niall halted abruptly, a shiver running over his ancient form. He pointed with the lantern. “The location you seek is just ahead.”

  Alder nodded, striding past the slight man.

  “S-s-sir,” Niall stuttered, his jaw suddenly chattering as if the chill in the air had frozen him to the core.

  Adler spun around, impatience on his face. “Yes?”

  “What is it that you keep down there?” The monk scratched his head, thinking hard. “For the life of me, I can’t seem to remember, although I know the way. Why is that?”

  Adler let out a long breath. He should dismiss the old monk; there wasn’t time for chatter. However, Adler knew how the spell worked. It was sealed by the words he’d speak next. “You are the guide, and only to lead one of the Seven to this spot. It protects that which is most sacred, and it cannot be found by anyone but you.”

  Niall’s eyes glazed over for a moment as if he’d suddenly fallen into a trance. Then he shook his head. “Yes, I remember now.” He waved his hand, the long, rusty keys clattering with the movement. “Please take your time. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

  Adler spun around, not entirely sure where he was going. The hallway split up ahead. He halted at the intersection, where a round blue and green stone on the floor caught his attention. Turning back to where the monk stood, Adler squinted into the dark. Due to the lantern light, he could tell that Niall was resting against a nearby wall with his eyes closed.

  Turning his attention back to the stone, Adler read the language that few knew that was inscribed under his feet. The words rolled off his tongue like the rush of water over rocks, soft and melodic.

  Look toward the heavens. Climb high to reach the treasure.

  Adler brought his gaze up, realizing at once that the great spire soared overhead, creating an abyss of black. On the walls closest to him, he spied small indentations on the stones—the path one would take if they dared climb to the top. Round and round, all the way to the locked vault at the highest peak of the monastery.

  How many times had Adler looked up at this spire, feeling as though he was seeing it for the first time? He didn’t know. The wards of protection prevented him from remembering, and yet he knew what was held in the vault, even if he could never remember how to get there.

  He withdrew the canister from inside his robe, the light blue substance inside glowing faintly in the mostly dark corridor. Magic never faded, but when not used, it did dull a bit—just like people and creatures.

  For Adler, that didn’t explain why Olivia Beaufont’s magic was so strong after being unlocked. There was much about the girl that perplexed him. He still believed that she was the right choice for Warrior, although he hadn’t foreseen her nearly ruining everything. Instead of taking out the Zonks, she’d intervened, botching a plan that had been in the works for a long time.

  Adler regarded the canister in his hands with great appreciation and sighed. He tried to remember that things had worked out for the best. If not for Olivia’s actions, Valentino’s double-crossing might not have been exposed until it was too late. Entrusting a rebellious magician to such a mission had been foolish. It was just that there were so few Adler could trust with such a task. Most would ask questions. Most wouldn’t understand. They might think that Adler was collecting and storing the magic for himself. They wouldn’t understand that he was cleaning up lost bits of magic. Keeping it safe. Going forward, he’d have to be more careful who he trusted for such things. He might just need to do it himself.

  Alder raised his hand, and a small dragon the size of a falcon flew down from the shadows to perch on his glove.

  Adler regarded Indikos with affection, catching the spark in his green eyes. He pulled a length of thin rope from his pocket and used it to tie the canister of magic to the dragon’s back. He realized at once that he must have done this many times since the act came so naturally, like riding a bike or playing the piano.

  Indikos stayed still as the canister was tied into place
. After Adler ensured it was tight enough, he lifted his arm into the air and the dragon soared upward, flapping his orange wings until he was swallowed by the darkness. When he returned, the canister of magic would be gone, kept out of the hands of those who must never hold it ever again.

  Chapter Two

  Liv Beaufont crossed her arms over her chest, looking down at the chaos below her. On the jungle floor, a dozen or more goblins fought over piles of jewelry, electronics, clothes, handbags and other things they’d stolen from the tourists in Bali, Indonesia.

  Tracking the little monsters hadn’t been hard since they had yelped and snorted as they’d scurried through the jungle. Liv slapped her arm as a mosquito landed, about to bite her.

  The damn bugs had been the problem, she thought bitterly. Oh, and the monkeys who kept following her, making it harder for her to stay unseen.

  The goblins weren’t paying attention to her now, too busy biting and kicking and thrashing each other to get the best prizes.

  Liv slid the hood onto her head, keeping her eyes low. She could have stopped the thieves a time or two as she watched them steal and disappear through different resorts.

  However, these two-foot-tall green creatures weren’t the ones she needed to stop. It was their master who was the problem.

  From the largest hut in the camp, a goblin, bigger and uglier than the rest, exited. Trock wore entirely too few clothes and would have benefited from a large mask to cover his pock-marked face. From his long ears, rows of silver rings hung, and on his back was a short sword, its tip still covered in fresh blood. As he progressed closer to the mayhem, the other goblins began to shout more wildly.