Southwest Truths (Semiautomatic Sorceress Book 3) Kal Aaron (classic literature list .txt) 📖

it unfold. She took the time to do what Sorceresses were supposed to do—not watch bad TV and stuff their faces, but meditate and ponder their powers and place in the world.

She’d had no more strange dreams and couldn’t bring herself to mention the experience to anyone else. The only hint she had that it was more than a delusion or a dream was Tristan’s earlier report of sensing something odd, but that could have been the seal weakening. He hadn’t mentioned anything since the first incident.

She’d come to the island to find out the truth about her brother and lure out enemies, but it’d become a vacation from her normal lifestyle. Now, as masked servants brought her down a darkened hallway in the Heart, she found herself trying to not think about rituals and strange regalia dreams and instead thinking about Chris.

Someone had killed her brother. She accepted that now and was convinced it was the people trying to take Jofi. It might be one of her patented Corti jumping-to-conclusions-in-desperation moves, but she was running out of options.

The ritual would disrupt their plans. She’d pay with a hit to her power, but she’d become overly dependent on Jofi anyway. It was time to revisit her true power and make sure her brother and her spirit partner’s sacrifices were not in vain.

It was hard to think of Jofi as dangerous, even though she knew he was. He’d been at her side for six years, making her stronger and helping save people’s lives.

The servants led Lyssa into a hexagonal chamber. Nektarios stood in the center with three other Sorcerers. Masked servants lined the wall, standing so still it was hard to tell they were alive. Intricate sigils covered the floor, drawn using powdered gold, silver, and platinum, with precious jewels interspersed at key points. The designs all twisted, turned, or pointed at a small circle in the center of the room.

Nektarios nodded from the center of the room. “Did you bring them?”

Lyssa sighed and pulled the pistols out of their holsters. “Yes.” She ejected the two magazines inside, one explosive and one penetrator. They clattered to the floor.

“I told you to bring the guns without the ammo,” Nektarios said.

“That would have raised questions,” Lyssa said. She didn’t bother to mention the other magazines she had in her pockets. No one had bothered to check her, but she also realized she wouldn’t last more than a few seconds should she try to load and shoot someone, especially so deep in the Heart. The only thing she hadn’t brought was showstoppers because she didn’t want to risk Jofi’s seal in the sensitive situation.

“What’s going on?” Jofi asked. “I didn’t oppose your decision to bring additional ammo. You seem prepared, though I’m confused.”

Lyssa turned the guns around and handed them to the Elder. “I’m sorry, Jofi. There are some things you don’t understand.”

“Please clarify what’s going on. Are we in danger?”

“Sort of.”

“Such power.” Nektarios knelt and set the guns in the exact center of the room. He nodded at the other Sorcerers. They spread out, aligning themselves north, south, east, and west before raising their hands and chanting.

Lyssa backed away from the edge of the ritual sigils as they began to glow, casting an eerie light over the chamber. “I’m very, very sorry, Jofi. You’ve been a good partner, the best a Sorceress could ask for, but you need to understand. This isn’t about me. It’s been about you from the beginning. That’s the connection between Lee, Samuel, me, and the others.”

The Sorcerers increased the volume of their chant. Brighter light poured out of the sigils.

“You’re saying multiple Sorcerers have been assassinated to gain a gun spirit?” Jofi asked. “I am useful, but that seems like an unbalanced trade-off.”

“Someone wants to capture you and use you for something terrible,” Lyssa explained. “The only choice we have is to seal you somewhere they can’t.”

“Is there something else you’re not telling me?”

Pain shot through her body, knocking her to hands and knees. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I didn’t do a good job of watching out for trouble. Or maybe I used too many showstoppers.”

“Why are you in such pain?” Jofi asked. “I…I…I… W-w-what’s happening? What are they d-d-d-doing?”

There was no fear in the voice. Beyond his stutters, his voice was distorted. They were breaking his seal and disrupting the careful sorcery that kept him convinced he was a calm gun spirit.

She had no idea what he’d say next. No one, not even the greatest spirit Sorcerers, could claim a true understanding of the fundamental nature of the entities. As much as she wanted him to stay the same until the end, the ritual would let his other nature bleed through, and the calm personality she thought of as Jofi would disappear.

The chanting from the ritualists reached a crescendo. The four overlapping voices were almost shouts.

Lyssa collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain. She tried to cry out, but only a strangled yelp emerged.

The pain of betrayal was manifest. She deserved the suffering for what she was about to do to Jofi. It was like a man waking up one day with amnesia and finding out he was going to be executed because he had been a war criminal in a past life he couldn’t remember.

Muscles spasmed up and down Lyssa’s back. The sigils’ light grew blinding, forcing her to close her eyes.

“I WILL FIND THEM AND KILL THEM ALL!” Lyssa shouted. “THEY’LL PAY FOR WHAT THEY’VE DONE!”

A rumble shook the room. Loud yells and muffled screams emerged from the ritualists. Another tremor shook the room, along with a sound unmistakable to a veteran Torch—the boom of an explosion.

“No, not when we’re so close.” Nektarios continued his chanting before slipping in, “Stop them.”

Lyssa groaned and forced her eyes open. All but two of the masked servants drew blades, shards judging by what she felt, and charged out of the chamber. The Sorcerers resumed chanting and pouring their power into the sigils. The last servant to