Southwest Nights (Semiautomatic Sorceress Book 1) Kal Aaron (best book club books for discussion txt) 📖

Southwest Nights

Semiautomatic Sorceress™ Book 1

Kal Aaron Michael Anderle

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

Copyright © 2021 LMBPN Publishing

Cover Art by Jake @ J Caleb Design

http://jcalebdesign.com / jcalebdesign@gmail.com

Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

A Michael Anderle Production

LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact support@lmbpn.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

LMBPN Publishing

PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

Las Vegas, NV 89109

First US edition, March 2021

eBook ISBN: 978-1-64971-618-7

Print ISBN: 978-1-64971-619-4

This Universe (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are Copyright (c) 2018-2021 by Michael Anderle and LMBPN Publishing.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Author Notes - Kal Arron

Author Notes - Michael Anderle

Connect with The Authors

About Kat Aaron

Books By Kat Aaron

Books By Michael Anderle

The Southwest Nights Team

Thanks to our Beta Team:

Allen Collins, John Ashmore, Jim Caplan, Mary Morris, Larry Omans, Kelly O’Donnell, Rachel Beckford

JIT Readers

Dave Hicks

Diane L. Smith

Jeff Goode

Deb Mader

Wendy L Bonell

Dorothy Lloyd

Zacc Pelter

Angel LaVey

Jackey Hankard-Brodie

James Caplan

Peter Manis

Paul Westman

Editor

Skyhunter Editing Team

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my wonderful wife, who has always believed in me. It’s also dedicated to my bird Momo who helped me get up early to write by squawking many days before my alarm.

— Kal

To Family, Friends and

Those Who Love

to Read.

May We All Enjoy Grace

to Live the Life We Are

Called.

— Michael

Chapter One

A little vibrating mirror ruined Lyssa’s day. Trouble was coming, and it was barely past noon.

She sighed and set down her pint of strawberry ice cream before pulling out the small pink compact that was her leash as a Sorceress. Some people were so rude when a woman was having a snack.

“I’d thought he’d let me settle in,” she muttered and stood. “He’s been working me like a dog these last six months, even before the move.”

Her living room remained mostly bare, with a modest TV hanging on the wall, a couch, and an IKEA end table. Her feeble decoration was limited to a sad-looking ficus. She’d just moved to this apartment in Scottsdale, Arizona, a suburb of Phoenix.

Outside, rocks and cacti formed her front yard. At least she didn’t need to water the plants.

Lyssa wasn’t like her foster mother, Tricia, who also was a Sorceress. Tricia focused on plant-based sorcery.

“Elder Samuel?” replied a low but calm and reassuring male voice, interrupting her thoughts. “That’s whom you’re referring to?”

The sound came from no direction, though she could hear it clearly. No one but she would be able to hear it, but covering her ears wouldn’t block it. The source of the voice, the spirit Jofi, was sealed in a physical vessel locked in a safe concealed by sorcery, but she could still make his voice out with ease.

“Yes, Samuel.” Lyssa frowned. “He told me he was going to let me settle in. He promised me after that whole hostage rescue thing on Labor Day. I think he’s pissed at me.”

Samuel was an Elder Sorcerer and served as an annoying combination of Lyssa’s boss and the regional governor. He wasn’t the kind of man who stopped by to discuss the latest viral video. Any contact from him meant work.

“You don’t feel two weeks was enough for settling in?” Jofi asked. “And did you expect to have Labor Day off? I’ve often observed you don’t follow conventional human patterns.”

Lyssa rolled her eyes. “It’s the principle of the thing. He’s the one who promised.”

“You seem settled every time you clean me. I don’t understand why you’re so frustrated with Elder Samuel. Or why you think he’s upset with you.”

“He’s probably still mad about that herbs and spices joke.” Lyssa snickered. “He doesn’t want me to relax. It’s a petty punishment for a hilarious joke.”

“Perhaps teasing him about his resemblance to a fictional character isn’t worth it if it will result in punishment, but I don’t always understand your sense of humor. Please take no offense.”

“I don’t need lessons in what’s funny from you, Jofi.” Lyssa snorted. “You’re a spirit bound to two guns, not a spirit of comedy. Of course, you don’t understand. Trust me, he’s an old man with white hair who walks around in an all-white suit. Jokes about secret herbs and spices are spot-on. It’s like he’s begging for it.”

“His appearance is a product of his regalia,” Jofi replied. “I imagine all Elders would strive toward their maximum ability when conducting official duties.”

Lyssa didn’t want to admit Jofi had a point. A Sorcerer could use their abilities without their special enchanted costumes, their regalia, but only at the cost of significant power. Disguises also cost power.

“Sure, sure.” Lyssa waved a hand dismissively. The finer points of mocking her boss with fried chicken mascot jokes were wasted on Jofi. She always let his deceptively human voice trick her into forgetting his true nature. “Let’s get the pain over with.”

Lyssa flipped open the compact, ran her finger across the mirror, and murmured the activation incantation in Lemurian. The surface grew cloudy and glowing yellow words appeared, written in the familiar dense, swirling script. Even at thirty years old, her dreams remained haunted by the many childhood hours she’d been forced to spend learning the ancient language.

She was never sure if Samuel used the enchanted compact mirror as an additional security measure or if it reflected his hidebound traditionalism. When she suggested