The Rebellious Sister

by Sarah Noffke

  The Rebellious Sister

  Unstoppable Liv Beaufont™ Book 1

  Sarah Noffke

  Michael Anderle

  The Rebellious Sister (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 © 2019 NM Sarah Noffke & Michael Anderle

  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

  February 2019

  The Rebellious Sister Team

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  John Ashmore

  Misty Roa

  Daniel Weigert

  Keith Verret

  Angel LaVey

  Peter Manis

  Crystal Wren

  Kelly O’Donnell

  Jeff Eaton

  Micky Cocker

  Terry Easom

  Larry Omans

  If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!

  Editor

  The Skyhunter Editing Team

  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

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  The Uncooperative Warrior

  Sarah’s Author Notes

  Michael’s Author Notes

  Acknowledgments

  Defects

  Connect with The Authors

  Books By Michael Anderle

  For Kathy.

  Thank you for giving me my first fantasy book.

  Since then, the world has been a better place.

  Chapter One

  In every person’s life, there is that rare and distinct moment when they doubt their loyalties. Ian Beaufont was living in that moment, an internal battle waging itself on his insides. He was much closer to finding out the truth, yet the closer he got, the more he felt like an avalanche was about to befall him.

  At the threshold to the cottage he shared with his sister, Ian checked over his shoulder. The Pacific Ocean crashed against the shore on the other side of the house. The night had swallowed the cottage, making it blend into the dark sky and hillside. Maybe if he wasn’t so tired, he’d venture down the stairs and stroll along the beach later that night. The gentle beating of the ocean on the sand always put him at ease, which was why he and Reese had chosen this place away from headquarters. No one knew they had it, and it would stay that way for as long as they needed to uncover the truth.

  Ian held up his hand in front of the seemingly ordinary deadbolt on the cottage door. Touching nothing, he twirled his hand a half inch to the right, two inches to the left and then reversed in a full circle as if he were unlocking a safe, muttering an incantation as he did. A moment later the door creaked opened, granting him admission to his home.

  Before Ian was even over the threshold, he began pulling off his scarf and long traveling jacket. The winds were mild that night in Southern California, but they’d been punishing an hour ago in London.

  “Reese, I’m home,” Ian called, squinting in the dark for a place to lay his jacket. It felt like ages since he’d been home, but maybe that was because he’d missed it so much. This was the only place where he knew what was going on.

  Ian directed his hand to the chandelier that hung over the great table in the middle of the room, but strangely, nothing happened. It wasn’t like he had to worry that a bulb was burned out. Those things never mattered for magicians.

  “Reese?” Ian called again to the quiet house. “What’s going on with the lights?”

  He peered at the chandelier, catching the ambient light that traveled through the bank of windows that faced the ocean, then spotted the open bottle of red wine on the table. He lifted it, surprised by how light it was. He didn’t have to read the label to know it was a bottle of Opus One, Reese’s favorite.

  Ian sighed. “You got started without me? I thought we said no drinking until after we debriefed?”

  No answer came from the back bedrooms like he’d expected.

  She’d probably drunk herself to sleep, and he couldn’t blame her. It was hard for Reese to stay behind while he was off on missions, but that was her role as councilor.

  Ian brought the half-empty bottle to his nose and sniffed, welcoming the aroma of dark fruit and spice. Those familiar scents hit him at once, but there was something else—a subtle note of oleander. One wouldn’t even have noticed it if one wasn’t acquainted with the poison.

  Ian dropped the bottle, his heart suddenly racing. He didn’t even look back as it toppled to the table and rolled onto the floor, spilling its contents over the polished tile.

  He burst into the back bedroom, wishing a damn light worked somewhere. Every attempt he made to ignite one was futile. When he pushed the door open to Reese’s bedroom, he froze. His heart tightened in his chest, his resolve nearly breaking. His sister looked like a statue that had fallen over, collapsed elegantly on the hearth in front of her fireplace. The coals were still red but slowly dying.

  Ian rushed to her, pressing his hands to her neck, but he was unsurprised to find no pulse. She’d drunk half the bottle. There was no recovering from that much poison. There was no magic he could do to save his sister. She was gone forever.

  Behind him, the door creaked. Ian stiffened. He wasn’t alone. He’d felt it all night, but only now realized the sinister implications. Ian had defeated leagues of enemies. He had single-handedly brought down a sea monster the size of a battlecruiser. He was the strongest warrior the House of Seven had raised in centuries. However, if someone had gotten this far then he knew his options were limited.

  Gently lowering Reese’s head back down, Ian rose to face the open door.

  It was hard to make out the figure in the doorway but the familiar shape of the man’s eyes and rattling of his breath gave him away.

  “This was you? How did you find us?” he asked, his doubts falling away to allow the picture he’d been trying to construct for quite some time to form.

  “Ian, you can’t hide anything f
rom me. I know you’ve gotten too close. You’ve forgotten your place,” the man said, his voice a raspy whisper that seemed to travel great distances to reach his ears.

  Ian’s fingers twitched by his side, but without making more than the slightest movement, he knew something was wrong with his magic. Somehow it had been disabled. Only one organization was powerful enough to disrupt a magician’s magic like this. Ian had no time to deal with the disappointment. He’d been right to follow the leads, but it had also been dangerous, as he and Reese had known. For her, it had been deadly.

  Ian sprang forward, picking up the side table next to the hearth and throwing it in the direction of the other magician. The table crashed against the doorframe where the man had been; he had disappeared and reappeared a few feet away. From that distance, Ian could see his face more clearly: the ancient wrinkles and the eyes he’d always mistaken as kind.

  “You can’t get away with this,” Ian said, scanning the room for options. Without magic, he was…normal, and his options were few. He hadn’t believed this day would come. Ironically it had, and against the one man he never thought would be his adversary.

  “We already have, poor Ian,” the man said. “You should have left things alone.”

  Ian felt behind him for the fireplace poker, but when he had it in his hand, the would-be weapon flew from his fingers, landing on the far side of the room.

  The man shook his head. “You know I think of you as a son.”

  Ian grimaced, pain in his heart making it hard to breathe. He pointed at his dead sister. “And was she like your daughter?”

  The magician’s face remained indifferent. “I didn’t like killing her, nor will I like doing the same to you. But I promise, just like with your sister, I’ll make it as painless as I can.”

  The magician raised his withered hand and instantly Ian felt the constriction in his throat. His feet rose off the ground and he kicked, trying to fight but sadly knowing it was useless. All his life, he’d felt the magic flowing in his blood, and, in the moments before his death, he felt its absence. What had ended his sister and would soon be his own demise was magic so powerful and encompassing that there was no way to fight it. He closed his eyes as his breath ran out, his vision turning black as he was lowered gently to the ground.

  The old magician was careful to lay Ian beside his sister, making them look like they’d just fallen asleep on an awkward place on the floor. He had thought so fondly of the two. Had expected great things of them. But their loyalties, in the end, had been misplaced. They had put everything in danger, and so there had been no choice but to end them.

  From the pocket of his blue silk robes, the magician pulled a single red flake the size and color of a rose petal. He let it fall from his fingertips and it caught a draft and drifted down, landing gently on the floor beside the bodies.

  “What’s done is done,” the magician said, and strode for the unlocked door. When he was safely across the front step and back into the salty air, he spoke a single incantation and the small cottage erupted into violent flames that would burn everything inside.

  Chapter Two

  “Open up already!” Liv Beaufont yelled, banging on the door. She pulled back her foot, ready to kick the crummy old thing when John’s voice called from the other side.

  “If you break it, you buy it,” he warned, referring to the door.

  She stomped, furious that he always seemed to know what she was going to do before she did it.

  “Well, then open the door and take your meds, old man” she said, reaching into her pocket and retrieving the pill bottle John had left at the repair shop.

  “They hurt my stomach,” he replied.

  “But they keep that tiny, cold heart of yours beating,” Liv stated.

  “I’ll see you at work in the morning,” John said stubbornly. “I’m going to bed right now.”

  Liv’s fist slammed against the wall beside the door, her frustration at the cantankerous old man making her head simmer.

  “If you keep this up, people are going to start thinking you care about the senile old man,” Plato said, strolling out of Liv’s open door down the hallway. The mostly white cat had four black spots across his body, making him resemble a cow, which was why the neighborhood kids mooed at him when he strolled by. Plato handled their teasing by ignoring them and later peeing on their scooters and bikes parked in front of the building.

  “I don’t care about John,” Liv argued. “It’s just that our apartments share air ducts, and if he dies in his, it will take forever to get the stink out of my place.”

  Plato gave her a look that said, “I’m not buying that.”

  Liv tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, thinking.

  “You’re not tall enough to reach the fire escape,” Plato said, as if he knew where her brain was going.

  “Yeah, yeah, I get that my height is once again a disadvantage.” She often joked that she was still growing, but the truth was that at age twenty-two, there was zero chance she was going to get any taller.

  Liv looked down at her ripped jeans and grease-covered t-shirt, searching for options.

  The last time John hadn’t taken his medicine, he was in the hospital for a week. Liv could run his repair shop on her own, but not very well. The customers preferred to talk to him and didn’t buy that she could repair things as well as he could. However, he’d taught her everything she knew, and her eyes were a whole hell of a lot better than his.

  It was because of John that Liv had a job, although it didn’t provide quite enough to survive off of. He knew that, which was why he discounted her rent for the studio apartment next door. A place like that in West Hollywood should go for a lot more, but John pretended that he was giving her a competitive rate.

  “Can I suggest that you try that one thing,” Plato said, a hint in his voice.

  Liv cut her eyes at the feline. “You know that I’m not strong enough. I keep trying.”

  “You fixed the microwave yesterday using magic,” Plato stated.

  Liv turned around suddenly to ensure they weren’t being overheard by one of the kids playing downstairs or anyone else in the hallway. The old building creaked and moaned constantly, which usually covered Plato’s voice, or so he told her.

  “That was a fluke,” she hissed. “I don’t know how that happened.”

  “It’s like a muscle, Liv. The more you use it, the stronger it will get.”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not how it works. You know I’m limited. They have me blocked.”

  “And yet, you were able to use your magic yesterday,” Plato said, a knowing tone in his voice.

  He would know. Plato was the smartest creature Liv had ever met. She’d been blessed with his presence since that first day, when she found herself on the streets with nowhere to go and no money to her name. It was like the cat had been sent to her as a guide as she started her life all over. Five years later and he was still her best friend, really one of her only friends.

  Taking a deep breath, Liv held her hand up, trying to remember the incantation for unlocking. The words, like all her memories of magic, were trapped somewhere in her mind. She flicked her wrist and muttered words she’d heard her mother say long ago. The lock jiggled.

  Elated, Liv tried the door handle, but to her dismay, found it still locked.

  “Damn it,” she complained, stomping in the direction of her room. A moment later she reappeared holding the small sheath of tools John had given her. She pulled one of the hooked picks from the set and went to work on the door lock.

  Behind her, Plato sighed. “You gave up awfully fast.”

  Liv blew her hair out of her face since both her hands were busy working on the lock. “I’m using my time efficiently. Tinkering is what I’m good at, not using that hocus pocus stuff,” she said quietly.

  Plato’s ear twitched, catching a noise approaching. “The giant is coming,” he announced.

  Liv straightened as Rory thundered u
p the stairs. She pressed her tools behind her back and pretended to be casually studying the peeling ceiling.

  The giant, who was almost seven feet tall, halted at the suspicious sight of Liv standing in front of John’s door and Plato nonchalantly licking himself like a normal cat would.

  “Hello,” Liv said, trying to keep her voice light. “What brings you to our neck of the woods? Here to see John?”’

  Rory eyed her and shook his head. “No, I’m here to see… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

  It was Liv’s turn to eye the giant suspiciously. He didn’t live in the building, but he was always calling on the residents toward the end of the month. Most wouldn’t notice, but Liv was excellent at correlating details. Today was September 30th, and the last time she’d seen Rory here was the end of August. He’d been in John’s shop throughout the month, but that was because he was constantly dropping off electronics he’d “found” that John could resell. Liv wasn’t sure what John traded for the electronics. Hopefully nothing much.

  “Well, good luck with whatever you’re doing here,” Liv said dismissively.