by Sarah Noffke
The Passionate Delegate
Unstoppable Liv Beaufont™ Book 9
Sarah Noffke
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 © 2019 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 [email protected]. 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, July 2019
eBook ISBN: 978-1-64202-388-6
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
Sarah’s Author Notes
Michael’s Author Notes
Acknowledgments
Books By Sarah Noffke
YA Dystopian Fantasy
Books By Michael Anderle
Connect with The Authors
The Passionate Delegate Team
Thanks to the JIT Readers
Nicole Emens
Crystal Wren
Daniel Weigert
Larry Omans
Jeff Goode
Kelly O’Donnell
Jeff Eaton
Deb Mader
Peter Manis
Misty Roa
Micky Cocker
Angel LaVey
If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!
Editor
The Skyhunter Editing Team
For Trudy.
The first day we met, you called me a tiger.
Still my favorite college class ever. And the one that flamed my fire for writing.
— Sarah
To Family, Friends and
Those Who Love
to Read.
May We All Enjoy Grace
to Live the Life We Are
Called.
— Michael
Chapter One
The stench inside the old gas station was almost worse than the smell of rotting catfish and mildew out front. The sign for Jeb’s Trading Post had fallen into disrepair ages ago, by the looks of it. Thankfully Kayla Sinclair had other ways of locating the rusty filling station. The person she’d spoken to had said there would be a red swivel chair out front with profanities written on the material. The people in the South used strange landmarks, she’d found in her travels.
Kayla kicked the chair over with her combat boot before entering the gas station, irritated by the long day of travel and humid weather in the backwoods outside New Orleans.
“The bathrooms are out back, darling,” the pot-bellied man said from behind the counter, not looking up from his crossword puzzle.
“I know that already,” Kayla answered, having checked out the property entirely before entering. The disgusting outhouse in the back shouldn’t really be considered a proper place to relieve oneself, just like the one-legged rooster that was hopping around outside shouldn’t really be considered a prized fighting cock.
The man behind the counter glanced up, obviously not used to young women frequenting his establishment. She guessed he only got smelly old fisherman and lost tourists. His aged eyes widened at the sight of her. It probably wasn’t her modern hairstyle that gave him pause. Kayla wore her hair short and spikey on one side of her head and long on the other. The black mini skirt and tank top might have been what got his attention, but she doubted it.
“You’re…you one of those really white people,” the hick exclaimed.
Kayla released a deep breath and raised her hands, about to lay them on the sticky counter separating them. Then she thought better of it and kept her hands by her sides.
“Albino,” she supplied.
He chuckled and slid his pencil behind his ear. “Well, I’ll be. I’ve never seen one of you before. Heard about you folks, though. Are you looking for the sunscreen?” He glanced around, his brow furrowed. “I ain’t restocked that in some time. You might try the Walmart back twenty miles from here.”
Kayla shook her head, trying to keep her temper quelled. Talon Sinclair had told her what to do and ordered her not to draw much attention to herself. That was never easy. Everyone always remembered her, either because of how she looked or what she made them see.
“Are you Jeb Navarro?” she asked the man.
He smiled, sticking his hands into the pockets of his overalls. “That would be me, darling. What can I do you for?”
“I’m looking for Zeno Dutillet,” she said, enjoying the way the Cajun French name rolled off her tongue.
The man started as if he’d suddenly been pushed. “How’d you hear about him? Ain’t no one asked about him in some time.”
“I heard he was here,” she said plainly.
The door she’d come through swung open, the bell attached to it chiming like it was suddenly angry. Kayla kept her eyes on the old man even as the hot wind from outside rushed through the small store.
“He’s in the back,” the clerk said, indicating with his head. “But no one’s come around for him in…well, ever.”
“I need to wake him,” Kayla said, stepping to the side and leaning around to look in the back. There wasn’t much there. A small room for restocking. Maybe a closet or two.
Jeb shook his head furiously. “Oh, no. You can’t do that. Zeno Dutillet has been asleep for…well, all my life. My daddy’s life too. My kinsfolk have been charged with keeping him that way.”
Yes, the Navarro family. They’d been doing their job well for quite some time, but that was all about to change.
“Your job is done,” Kayla said, making for the back.
Jeb stepped in front of her, halting her progress. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t allow you to do that. I don’t know what happens when Zeno Dutillet is stirred, but I ain’t going to risk it.”
She batted her white eyelashes at him. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just blissful sleep. You’ll love it.”
He shook his head more forcefully this time. “Nah. I
’ve been told that if anyone ever came trying to wake Zeno Dutillet, I had to do everything in my power to stop them.”
The portly man was surprisingly fast for his size, reaching for something on the shelf on the side of the wall. In a flash, he was aiming a shotgun straight at Kayla’s face.
She sighed, realizing she might have to actually get her hands dirty for this one.
“I don’t want any trouble,” the man said. “Just walk back out the way you came in, and we can forget about this.”
Kayla held her hands up as if in surrender, but really it was only so she was ready to attack. “The thing is that I can’t forget about Zeno Dutillet or why I’ve come to wake him. I have my orders.”
“And I have mine,” the redneck said, narrowing his eyes at her.
“Then we will do this the hard way,” she said and flicked her hand ever so slightly. The man flew backward, knocking into a shelf full of bait. A loud crack was followed by him sliding to the floor and the shelves overhead breaking. Buckets of worms and other rancid-smelling bait spilled onto the man’s head before he could rise, and his gun fell to the floor.
Kayla was about to march into the back when the sounds of running footsteps made her pause.
“Stop right there!” someone yelled from behind her.
She flexed her fingers by her sides, ever so slightly glancing over her shoulder. Two men had entered the shop.
“Leave, or you die,” she threatened flatly.
The old man was trying to stand but kept slipping on the muck underfoot. Annoyed by the whole thing, Kayla lifted her hand, and the clerk rose with it. His legs kicked as he tried to find stable ground, but he rose ever farther. With a jerk of her hand, Kayla sent the man’s head into the ceiling, which was rotted in places from storms and the constant moisture.
Jeb screamed, his limbs flailing. His head remained stuck above the ceiling, and his bottom half hung down.
Kayla heard a click behind her; she knew that sound. One of the men behind her had chambered a bullet, which meant he’d be the first to die.
She swung around, bringing her arm out wide with her. The canned goods, fishing lures, and hooks lining one wall flew off and straight at the man holding the gun. They assaulted him one after the other, many of the sharper objects stabbing him. When a can of dog food hit him in the side of the head, he stumbled back, shielding his face, which had multiple hooks in it. The objects kept rising off the ground again and racing back for his face or chest or wherever they could make contact.
The man beside him, the youngest of the three watched in horror, unable to do anything to save him. Finally, the battered man gave up, throwing his rifle on the floor of the shop and running for the exit, many of the objects racing after him.
Kayla lowered her chin, regarding the last remaining man with her nearly white eyes. “Stay, and you die. Leave, and you live.”
With a frantic look in his eyes, he swung his head over his shoulder. Then he spun in that direction, making for the door.
She laughed, flicking her wrist to the right hard. The running man froze, his neck jerking awkwardly to the side. A loud crack emanated from the man as his spine cracked in two. His head lolled to the side strangely before he collapsed on the floor.
Kayla shook her head. She was never going to allow any of these men to live. Before she awoke Zeno Dutillet, she’d finish off the other two. The one hanging from the ceiling would be easy to kill. The one who had fled, well, the objects she sent after him wouldn’t stop assaulting him until he was dead. That was the beauty of the “Merciless Object” curse. It did all the work for Kayla and didn’t quit until its target was no longer moving.
Killing everyone in the Navarro family was key. They were the only ones who could currently put Zeno Dutillet back to sleep, according to the lore. Yes, another family would be chosen, Kayla was sure, but it would be too late by then. Zeno Dutillet only needed to be awake for a short time to do the damage Talon Sinclair wanted.
Kayla held her hand underneath Jeb Navarro’s still-flailing limbs. He was close to getting his fat head unstuck from the plaster.
With no remorse, she closed her fist, and Jeb screamed and reached for his chest. A moment later, he was completely still, the heart attack having been swift and deadly.
Kayla dropped her hand back to her side, sizing up the ransacked shop with a proud smile. She turned toward the back room, where Zeno Dutillet was sleeping.
It was time to wake the SandMan.
Chapter Two
“I really don’t get it,” John said, scratching his head and regarding the microwave oven with confusion. “We’ve checked the fuses, the interlock safety switches, and discharge capacitor. Nothing seems to be wrong with this thing.”
Yes, they’d spent the better part of the morning wracking their brains over a seemingly trivial thing—a repair for a thirty-dollar microwave. Yes, there were many other things that Liv should be doing. But right then, working on the microwave with John Carraway was keeping her sane. There were few activities Liv enjoyed more than repairing things with John.
“You know, we might want to consider that there’s no fixing this one,” she said, having looked the machine over a hundred times. She was still unable to determine what was wrong with it.
John shook his head. “Yeah, sometimes things just wear out, and there’s no fixing them.” He let out a long breath and sat down in the folding chair beside the workstation. “I sort of feel like this microwave lately.”
Liv’s gaze shot to the old man, who was breathing harder than he should. “Don’t talk like that.”
He chuckled. “Well, it’s true. Haven’t been feeling like myself lately. Maybe it’s the extra pollen in the air or—”
“That you’re visiting the taco truck too often,” she cut in.
His face flushed red with guilt. “Well, I went on Monday, and the carnitas didn’t give me indigestion.”
“So you went back every day this week?” Liv asked, her tone flaring.
“Well, the chicken did give me heartburn on Tuesday so I thought I’d try the carne asada on Wednesday. When that wasn’t a problem—”
“I’m not sure I need a full run-through on the week,” Liv interrupted. “Keep a food journal and try to eat some vegetables.”
John grimaced. “I thought you wanted me to live a long, happy life?”
“Yes, hence the reason for the insistence that you eat broccoli and brussels sprouts.”
“Well, then I might live a long life, but it won’t be happy,” John stated just as the phone rang on the workstation.
Liv couldn’t help but notice how John’s eyes brightened as he read the caller ID.
“Alicia De Luca, eh?” Liv asked, arching a curious eyebrow at him. She was surprised to see the magic tech scientist from Venice was calling John on his phone.
“We stay in contact,” he said, pressing the phone to his chest as it continued to ring. “You know, exchange tips on electronic repair.”
“Sure, sure,” Liv said, a hint of mischief in her tone.
He waved her off. “Oh, just because you’re all twitter-pated after that tall, handsome fellow doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”
“Then where are you going?” Liv asked as he disappeared into the back.
“Just don’t want to disturb you while you work,” he called as the door swung shut behind him.
“Yeah, right,” Liv said with a laugh. She liked Alicia, and she loved John. If two people she cared about could find a friendship together, well, it was a win-win for her.
“You’re avoiding your problems,” Plato said, materializing beside her as soon as John was out of earshot.
She ducked, peering at the back of the microwave. “No, my problem is right here. I just can’t figure it out.”
Plato lifted his paw, eyeing it before taking a long lick like it was a lollypop. “Don’t you think there are bigger issues out in the world that need your attention?”
“Like other micr
owaves that mysteriously don’t work?” Liv asked.
“Like an entire population of mortals who are waking up and seeing magic for the first time.”
She shook her head. “My job is recruiting the Mortal Seven. The council’s job is helping mortals assimilate once they study the Forgotten Archives.”
“Excuse me for being so bold, but I’m not sure how fixing Mr. Patrick’s microwave gets you any closer to finding the Mortal Seven.”
Liv scowled at the lynx before opening the door to the microwave and peering inside. “Firstly, this is one of my jobs, and I can’t just abandon it. And secondly, I don’t even know where to look to find the Mortal Seven; well, asides from John. And even when I do find one of the families, I’m not sure what to do next. Do I just randomly point at the one who looks the nicest and say, ‘Hey, you’ve been chosen as Councilor for the House of Fourteen. Congratulations! Drop everything you’re doing. Magic needs your help.’”
“You might want to buy them a cup of coffee first,” Plato suggested.
“I’ll keep that sage advice in mind,” Liv said with a grunt, peering once more into the open microwave.
