Pipsqueak had been expanding the network box since they had come back from the Multiverse. It was starting to look like a rat’s nest.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Pipsqueak, her head low. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”
Dominique turned away and paced to the tall windows on the other side of the studio. It was essentially one big room with a small bathroom at the far end and a kitchenette in one corner. Pip was working at a junky, wooden table Dominique had found on the curb. A couple of white plastic chairs were the only other furniture in the place. Three yoga mats were neatly rolled and stacked in a corner. A box of water bottles was against the wall next to them. A metal storage cabinet was next to those. The place was bare but it was neat–everything squared away.
Dominique had rented this loft in a small industrial park near LAX, not only because it was cheap, but because she could keep an eye on her own place. The floor plans were identical, but in hers she had security windows. She looked across the alley at it and saw a dark shape moving on the other side of the frosted glass.
She glanced at the oversized black watch on her wrist. Time to check.
She turned away and paced back to Pipsqueak, stopping in front of the table. Pipsqueak kept her head down, working furiously.
They didn’t have to fear Liver’s lightning if Liver never got the chance to use it. It was all going to come down to numbers. Big numbers.
In order to work on the network box, Pip had set the nkondi on the floor next to the table. Dominique stopped and stared down at it. It was a bit of the old country–and truly hideous.
Carved of wood, the nkondi was a small statue about a foot high. Although it had arms and legs, these were unimportant. The head and torso were overly large in comparison. The face seemed stuck in a moment of horror, with its gaping circular mouth and protruding lips. The nose was barely there but the eyes were important. Small almond-shaped mirrors seemed to stare into infinity.
Dominique squatted down and gazed into them, seeing her boots reflected there.
The blond wig from some child’s doll had been Pipsqueak’s idea. It was too small by far but it didn’t matter. It gave it the right look. A single large nail held the hair in place on top of the oval head. Around its shoulders was draped a scrap of material that was safety-pinned at the front. Despite the tattered edges, the silvery sheen of the linen glimmered.
The statue held what appeared to be a drum over its stomach. It wasn’t a drum, though, as Dominique well knew. It was the reason this bit of vodun worked. Sealed inside the rough protruding cylinder was a single lock of gleaming white hair.
Dominique scanned the ground in the vicinity and saw what she was looking for. She picked up the hammer and flipped open the cardboard box of nails. She pounded another nail through the wig; the hammer blows echoed from every direction in the spartan room. Then she added another and another. She set the nkondi on its back and pounded in some more. She didn’t stop until it was nearly covered, studded in gray nails–some of them bent, some at strange angles–all over the torso and the face.
Satisfied, she stood and realized Pipsqueak had taken off the magnifying lenses and was staring at her.
“I thought you said it didn’t do any good to add more nails?” Pipsqueak asked.
Dominique tossed the hammer to the floor with a clatter. “It doesn’t.” She shrugged. “I just like it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
AS THEY WAITED for the restaurant host to return to his small podium near the door, Livvy took off her overcoat while SK closed up the umbrella.
“Liv,” he said. “You look fabulous.”
She hoped so since she had gone all out for this date. It had been years since she’d worn a dress and she had gone frantically shopping for it only that day. It had taken hours and, in the end, she’d bought three. At home, she had changed from one to another, looking in the mirror, turning from side to side, seeing them with the shoes. She’d decided against something with a low heel in favor of elegant high heels. SK was going to be shorter than her no matter what.
At first she’d thought to wear a simple black dress. It was timeless and safe but her pure white hair was too much of a contrast. She’d probably never be able to wear black again. Eventually, she had settled on the shimmering, green wraparound dress.
The saleswoman had called it sea foam green and said it was an almost perfect match for her eyes. Sleeveless with a V neckline, the loosely bunched material at her shoulders led down to a clinging fit at her waist and then flared out to create a light draping effect that fell from her hips to just above the knee. To Livvy, it had seemed almost Grecian and perhaps a little too plain. Plain would be fine, the saleswoman had said. Nobody would be looking at the dress anyway.
A little makeup and peridot earrings had finished off the look. She’d decided to leave the amethyst pendant at home.
“Your table is ready,” said the host. He held out his hands for the coat and umbrella. “I’ll take these for you,” he said.
SK handed him the umbrella without taking his eyes off Livvy. The host took it from him and nearly did the same thing.
“Follow me,” he said.
All eyes turned their way–first as they proceeded through the softly lit bar, then into the dining room, and finally toward the single row of candlelit tables near the expansive window. Conversations died while the sound of scooting chairs resounded off the tiled floor. Livvy knew they must make for an interesting pair–the willowy white-haired woman and the dapper dwarf.
SK had not had to dress much differently than he always did, but this evening he wore the royal blue outfit, her favorite.
“Here is your table,” said the host as he started to pull a chair out for Livvy.
SK deftly stepped around her and cut him off. “Thanks,” he said to the host, placing his hand on the back of the chair. “I’ve got it.”
Without a word, the host took a step back with a little bow. Livvy couldn’t help but smile as SK held the chair.
She took in the view as she sat. From here, they could see the entire pier and much of the coastline’s twinkling cityscape. Even through the rain spattered window and light drizzle, the lights of the storefronts and the amusement rides were bright. The ocean was nearly black, the moon covered by the clouds, but it seemed perfect.
When she looked back to SK, he was already seated and quickly lowered his eyes. He had been staring at her.
He cleared his throat. “So, this other shaman,” he said. “What did she look like?”
Livvy described her, with as many details as she could remember.
She paused as the waiter came for their drink orders. Knowing that Livvy no longer drank, SK asked for two sparkling waters.
“Well, from a description like that,” said SK, “you’d think it’d be hard to miss her.” He shook his head. “I don’t know a shaman who looks like that. Nor have I ever heard of one.”
“How can that be?” said Livvy. She had always assumed that SK knew most everybody involved with shamanism.
He shook his head again. “L.A.’s a big territory and there are other intercessors. Let’s just say that I know all the important healers. There’s a whole other sub-culture of shamans out there–shamans who fly under the radar, as it were. Shamans who don’t particularly want to be known for what they’re doing.”
“And what are they doing?”
Despite being the lightning shaman, Livvy had never had a proper mentor–another shaman who would have taught her about the Multiverse, guided her vision quest, and passed on something of the history of the practice. Instead, Livvy had learned on her own. She had received her first pair of goggles as a gift from a patient in medical school, and her vision quest had happened immediately. The more that Livvy learned about shamanism, the more she realized how little she knew.
“Typically, those shamans practice the dark arts, create hexes, work to make people sick, so they can heal them.”
The sparkling water arrived and, as
the waiter poured their glasses, she looked at SK and their eyes met briefly.
“Shall I come back for your order?” asked the waiter.
“That’d be good,” SK said.
He considered the water for a few moments.
“I don’t know the woman you describe, so I’m kind of jumping to conclusions but I think it’s a real possibility that she’s one of these dark shamans.”
Dark shaman had the right sound to it. She hadn’t exactly been Miss Sunshine.
“This gets back to the old rules,” he said. “The prohibition against shamans working together partially came about to avoid the type of situation where one shaman might secretly create an illness only so their partner could cure it. In that she’s working alone, that doesn’t seem likely.”
He took a sip of water.
“Well,” said Livvy, staring at the stem of her glass. “She wasn’t exactly alone.”
SK sputtered a bit and then coughed. He put his napkin to his mouth and, before he could ask, Livvy answered his question.
“She had two friends and I think she was looking specifically for me.”
The waiter chose that moment to check on them.
“Not now,” SK said to him as he neared.
The man quickly changed his course and passed their table.
SK swung his gaze back to Livvy. “Three shamans?”
Livvy nodded. “The one with the leather jacket was the one ‘in charge.’ I didn’t recognize the other two shamans either.”
She gave their descriptions and also related what they had done–the whirlwind and the earthquakes–but that there had been no spirit helpers.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute,” said SK, pushing his glass away. “They attacked you?”
“I guess so,” said Livvy. “I don’t know any other way of saying it.”
“Liv,” he said, suddenly stern. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you mention this?”
This was the tricky part. She had lied about there being only one event because he couldn’t know about her mother.
“I wasn’t sure they were shamans,” she said. “I wasn’t sure what had happened at all. It might have been a mix-up of some sort.”
“A mix-up?” said SK as he frowned.
The waiter appeared from nowhere and deftly poured a little sparkling water into each of their glasses. “Do you have any questions about the menu?”
Livvy quickly opened hers and focused on the larger type at the top of the second page. “Two of the house specials?” she said and looked at SK, but his menu was closed and he was holding it out to the waiter, clearly waiting for him to leave.
“Excellent,” said the waiter, taking it. “We are, of course, known for our lobster.” He took Livvy’s menu as well and smartly turned on his heel.
“Three shamans together,” said SK as soon as the waiter was out of earshot. “They attack you with wind and earthquakes and you think it’s a mix-up?”
“Well, it’s not like I’ve ever been attacked before,” she said quickly, trying to defuse his growing anger. “I’ve never even seen another shaman there without being networked. I still don’t understand how that can be.”
He seemed about to say something else but paused and sat back for a second. “No, I don’t either,” he replied. “Three together…”
“Only two attacked,” said Livvy. “The other one, the one with long dark hair, she hung back and was giving the orders.”
“Even so, three together,” he said. “They must be networked.”
“I didn’t think anybody was doing that,” said Livvy. “Not after…you know.”
The first time she had networked goggles she had nearly died, and Min had gone into a coma. The risks could be high.
“I didn’t think anybody was doing it either,” he said. “But the fact that I don’t recognize any of these three says a lot about what may be going on that I don’t know.”
He seemed to be calming down and analyzing the situation. “Three dark shamans, then–working together,” he said as if to himself, staring at his glass. “How and why?”
As much as the appearance of the three shamans worried her, it wasn’t the real reason Livvy had asked SK to dinner, and it certainly wasn’t the reason she had shopped all day for a killer dress. It was time to be honest about her feelings.
Since becoming a shaman, she hadn’t managed to date anyone for any significant length of time. With the strange hours, let alone the strange work and sometimes the strange clients, it was almost impossible to develop, let alone keep, a relationship. The last time she’d had a boyfriend was probably the last time she’d shopped for a dress.
Still deep in thought, SK gazed in the direction of the pier though Livvy could see the gears turning behind his intense eyes.
She lifted her water glass, still watching him, and then slowly but deliberately set it back down.
“SK,” she said.
He turned to her as she leaned forward slightly.
“I–”
“Here we are,” said the waiter, as an enormous plate passed in front of her. She quickly sat back. “The house lobster.”
Another waiter behind him set an identical dish in front of SK.
“Is there anything else that I can get for you?”
Both she and SK shook their heads, partly in answer to his question but also in bewilderment at the heaping piles of food.
“Bon appétit,” said the waiter.
SK put his hand on the fork but instead of picking it up, he looked at her. “No Multiverse,” he said.
“What?” said Livvy, surprised.
“No Multiverse until I can get some answers.”
“But we’ve got–”
“I’ll have Min cancel everything tomorrow,” he said.
“But, SK, I can handle this–”
“Liv,” he said, reaching across the table to put his hand over hers. “I’m dead serious on this. We’re not doing anything in the Multiverse until we find out who those shamans are and how they’re doing what they’re doing, including how they’re finding you.”
She stared down at his hand. His touch was warm and soft.
“I know it’s hard,” he said. “But I’m not going to let you take a risk. Please, just go with me on this.”
She gazed into his eyes, deeply set and dark. He was concerned and now a little on edge. She reluctantly nodded.
Her gaze wandered between his soft brown eyes and then down to his lips. His sideburns and beard were starting to get a few gray hairs, a look that she thought lent him a dashing air. The flickering candlelight danced in his eyes, almost hypnotic.
“Okay,” he said, nodding once. He squeezed her hand for emphasis before letting go. Then he picked up his fork and looked at his plate.
“SK, I–”
He looked up, his fork poised in midair, and waited for her.
“I love you,” she blurted out.
He froze and then slowly put the fork down without looking up. Livvy watched intently as several emotions seemed to flash across his face, the first one clearly shock.
Uh oh. Shock? Could it be that much of a surprise? I shouldn’t have said it like that.
All day she’d searched for a better way. All day she’d played this moment out, over and over, and had never come up with anything that seemed right. So, she’d decided to just come out and say it.
And he was shocked, although he was doing his best to cover it.
A smile began to curl the corners of his mouth. Livvy realized her heart was pounding but then his smile vanished.
“Liv,” he started. “I…” He paused but still didn’t look at her. “I don’t know what to say.”
The thing she hoped he would say–the thing she’d heard him say when she’d envisioned this moment–was that he loved her too.
But that’s not what he had said. And it didn’t seem like he was going to.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE ONLY SOUND in the car w
as the rain and windshield wipers. SK sat silently in the passenger seat.
I have so screwed this up.
She gripped the steering wheel and wished she could bash her head into it.
Idiot!
He had barely touched his dinner after her ‘confession.’ Just wanting the awful evening to be over, Livvy had quickly asked for their meals to be wrapped up. The waiter had been speedy about it, likely sensing this was a date that had gone wrong.
So wrong. What an idiot.
You know, he might even have a girlfriend. It’s not like you ever asked. Then again, we’re together so much, where would he find the time?
Or maybe he just didn’t feel that way about her. Why would he?
Gods, what was I thinking?
He was the ultimate power broker of the shaman world. SK knew hundreds of shamans. All of them craved his attention. One word from him could make or break a career.
But it wasn’t the power that had drawn her to him; it was the way he never used it. He treated everyone the same. She had never seen him lose patience with a client, and he had never complained about the long hours. In fact, there were no complaints of any sort, even in the difficult circumstances in which they sometimes found themselves. The thing that fascinated her, though, was no matter how many onlookers or cameras were present, he never pretended to be anything other than himself. He seemed at ease, comfortable in his own skin. It was as though some deep place at his center grounded him. It was a place Livvy needed to know more about.
Thankfully, they were at his condo in only minutes. She pulled the sedan to the curb and waited, the engine idling, the windshield wipers still slapping from side to side. He didn’t open the door but he didn’t say anything either. He just sat and stared out the passenger window.
Finally, she couldn’t take it any more.
“I’m sorry, SK,” she whispered, barely audible. She looked down at the console between them. “I somehow thought you might feel the same way. I–”
Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Books 1 -3 Page 35