Southwest Days (Semiautomatic Sorceress Book 2), Kal Aaron [book recommendations based on other books .txt] 📗

even when her job left her too much time to sit around and think. Her solutions to problems were only a little less direct than Aisha’s.

No one liked being reminded of their flaws. That was probably the reason she and Aisha’d had such trouble getting along over the years.

She thought back to Jofi’s question. Telling him she didn’t want to use something that risked freeing him to wreak havoc wasn’t an option, but it also wasn’t the only concern. There was something else.

“A weapon that can’t be countered limits its own use,” Lyssa said. “The Shadows have only managed to drop two nukes and no more because then a bunch of countries got them. Mutually assured destruction. An armed society is a polite society.”

“This is not a similar situation,” Jofi said. “Killing you or disarming you will stop the use of the weapon. You’re not unstoppable. Your weapon can be countered. Therefore, your reluctance doesn’t make sense.”

Lyssa chuckled. “Now I’m a little insulted. I’m Hecate, the Semi-Automatic Sorceress. I’m not so easy to take down.”

“It wasn’t my intent to insult you. I’m only stating my perspective.”

“I’m just messing with you. And yeah, I get your point. They won’t work without the appropriate compatible essence, so it’s not like some goon could knock me out and take them.”

Lyssa stared in the direction of her bedroom. She’d been sitting around feeling sorry for herself and worrying about her brother, but she had other responsibilities. Jofi believed he was a gun spirit and not an emptiness spirit. It was time to get out of the house and do something other than brood about Samuel.

“Hey, after I finish the episode,” she said, “why don’t we hit a range? It’s been a while since I’ve fired you. I made some promises. It’s time I kept them.”

“I would enjoy that,” Jofi replied.

A handy feature of Jofi being bound to Lyssa’s pistols was that she could change their appearance even without using active sorcery or her regalia. She didn’t want to wander into the Southwest Survival Tactical Range and have people recognize Hecate’s weapons. There were enough minor intimidation flourishes on the pistols to make them unique.

For now, she was a woman alternating between her two normal-looking Sig Sauer P320s. Bringing only one would stress the seal.

She stood in her firing lane, aiming at the man-shaped target in the distance. It’d been a while since she’d been at a range. She’d forgotten that loud gunshots plus ear protection made it a surprisingly good place to chat with Jofi.

Lyssa put three rounds into the head of her target. Shooting stationary targets was too easy and a little boring. She might have to look into their more expensive and appointment-only moving target room during her next visit. She doubted she could get the HOA to approve a fancy backyard firing range, though she was tempted to ask them just to see the looks on their faces.

After another three shots, she asked, “Everything okay with you, Jofi?”

“Yes,” he said. “Why wouldn’t it be? Do I need to remind you I don’t suffer from mental stress in the same way as you?”

“That’s not the same thing as never getting stressed out.”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“I’m not an expert on all things spirit. For all I know, you could get in a spirit funk, and I wouldn’t notice.” Lyssa concentrated and put a tight cluster into the chest of the target. The rounds landed so closely together they formed a single large hole. She nodded, satisfied.

“I was very satisfied with my heavy use in your most recent job,” Jofi replied.

Lyssa frowned. Her next few shots didn’t land in nice clusters, but she would have blown out the lungs of a living target. Muscle memory made her guns deadly even when she was barely paying attention.

That was good. A person didn’t want to spend much time thinking during a firefight. Split-second decisions kept shooters alive.

“I desire more activity against active targets rather than pure practice, but I understand the limitations of active hunting,” Jofi continued.

“You do understand I can’t kill people except in self-defense without a contract, right?” Lyssa asked. “Even if we drop me into the worst crime-ridden hellhole and I clear it out, the Elders and the EAA might call me a rogue. The Shadow government would freak out over the implications.”

“Of course, Lyssa,” Jofi said. “It wasn’t my intent to suggest you hunt criminals or terrorists. I understand your limitations.”

Lyssa wasn’t convinced he did. He’d always been borderline bloodthirsty despite the calm, professional tone. That didn’t bother her, but this was the first time in a while he’d hinted at doing something outside the bounds of the Society’s rules. He was usually the one talking her down from trouble.

The recent shift worried her, but it wasn’t time to go blabbing to Lee yet. Losing a partner and risking her life over mere suspicions, especially now that she had a lead on her brother, was the last thing she needed. Lee could ensure she couldn’t go to Last Remnant for years, and Lyssa would need Jofi’s power to deal with any potential assassins.

She emptied her current magazine in exchange for more headshots. “We’ll get our chance soon enough. There’s no way Samuel can leave me sidelined with all the bitching I did.”

Lyssa strolled toward the main lobby exit when a man jogged from the front desk toward her. His holstered pistol might have bothered her anywhere else, but over half the people in the building wore holsters. The ones who didn’t carried firearms in cases or were renting something large and high-powered from the range.

She let the man catch up. She planned to come back to the range and didn’t want to make a scene.

“You were in lane four, right?” the man asked, gesturing at her holsters.

“Yeah. What about it? Did I leave something?” Lyssa looked down. Two guns. Two holsters. A spent magazine, maybe?

Lyssa frowned, wondering if she’d made a mistake. Changing the appearance of