She jumped and spun around. “SK?”
He nodded, hands in pockets, looking as elegant as ever. “In the flesh,” he said. “Well, so to speak.”
“What are you doing…oh,” said Livvy, relieved. “Okay. I get it. It’s a dream.”
“You think so?” he said. “Really? You dream about the Middleworld?”
Livvy thought about that. “Well, actually no,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever dreamed about the Middleworld.”
Suddenly, she remembered the only time she’d ever heard about shamans dreaming in the Middleworld. Indra and Min had both dreamed of being buried there and found it hard to wake up. Indra had then died.
“I think I’d better get going,” said Livvy.
“But you just got here,” said SK, smiling.
She adored that relaxed and easy look of his. It was almost tempting to stay.
“I don’t know why I’d dream about the Middleworld, but I know why you’re here.”
“I’ll bet you do,” he replied, nodding his head. “That was quite the date.”
“Uh, yeah,” she said.
What would be the point of talking to SK about it in a dream? Shouldn’t she just wake up and talk to him in person?
“There’s my beautiful girl,” said Livvy’s mom.
Again, Livvy spun around. Oh no, Mom! SK can’t know this.
Livvy paused and took a deep breath. Okay, stop it. This is your dream. You’re doing this.
She let the breath go. “Hi Mom,” she said.
“Livvy,” she said. “I really do love the hair.”
“I was the one who convinced her not to color it,” said SK.
“Good call,” said Mom. She paused and waited, looking at Livvy. “Livvy, wouldn’t it be polite to introduce us?” she said finally.
Her mom and SK waited expectantly.
Livvy shrugged. “Okay,” she said. “Mom this is SK. SK this is my mother.”
They politely shook hands.
“I’ve heard so much about you, young man,” said Mom, smiling, with a pleasant conversational tone to her voice.
“Well, I’ve heard next to nothing about you,” he replied, also conversational.
“I guess that’s not too surprising,” replied her mom.
“Right, I think we’re done,” said Livvy, wondering how to leave. She looked up and down the path. She could leave, couldn’t she?
“Honestly, Olivia,” said her mom, a sudden anger in her voice. “I think that’s rude.”
As she turned back to her mom, she found herself being jerked forward. She stared at her mother’s angry face and realized her mother had grabbed her with both hands by the neck.
“What is it with the young people these days?” asked SK.
“SK,” Livvy managed to get out. “Help.”
Her mother’s grip grew tighter.
Livvy grabbed her arms but couldn’t move them. Her mother was strong, incredibly strong. Frantically, she tried to back away, turn, move in any direction but her mother’s grip was like a rock. Finally, she started pounding her fists on her mother’s arms. Her mother responded by squeezing harder.
She’s going to break my neck.
She clawed at her mother’s fingers but did more to scratch her own throat than dislodge the grip. She tried to scream but her vocal cords were being crushed. No air could flow.
“You know, you could just wake up,” said SK calmly.
Livvy flicked her eyes down to him but couldn’t utter a sound.
“Go ahead, Liv,” he said a bit sadly. “Wake up.”
He cocked his head and stared at her, as though he were waiting for her to disappear. When she didn’t, he screamed in her face, making her blink. “Wake up!”
• • • • •
Livvy heard someone screaming, a cross between a wail and a cry.
“Wake up!” someone else yelled.
Livvy’s eyes flew open and she caught herself in mid-scream. It had been her wailing.
Something was hovering in front of her and she tried to back up, scoot away, until her head hit the headboard.
“Livvy, it’s me,” said Min. “It’s okay.”
Was that Min’s face hovering in midair? Livvy’s chest heaved but she managed not to scream. With wide eyes, she finally brought Min into focus.
“Livvy,” said Min. “Gods, you were screaming.”
Livvy slowly sat up, still breathing hard. “Sorry,” she said.
Min sat lightly on the edge of the bed, still tense. She rested a hand on Livvy’s leg. “I heard you from outside the front door,” she said, looking intently into her face.
Livvy sucked in a huge breath and closed her eyes, trying to slow her heartbeat, calm down.
“You were having a nightmare,” said Min.
Livvy only nodded. That was putting it lightly.
It had not been one of the garden-variety nightmares to which she was prone. SK had told her that dreaming and shamanism often went together but the nightmares seemed above and beyond, especially this one. She had never dreamt of the Multiverse before, nor of her mother. Suddenly, she shivered and her teeth made a small clattering sound.
Min took one of her hands in both of hers. “You’re freezing,” she exclaimed as she tried to rub some heat into it.
She ran an experienced eye over Livvy’s face, slipping into shaman mode. She put the back of her hand to Livvy’s forehead. “And you’re covered in sweat,” Min said, looking at Livvy’s eyes for any clue.
“Just a bad dream,” Livvy said, right before another shiver began. Again, her teeth chattered.
“Maybe more than that,” said Min. “Okay, a hot shower for you. You need to get out of those damp PJs.”
Livvy nodded.
“You do that and I’ll get some tea on,” Min said.
Livvy got up and headed to the bathroom. “Just a bad dream,” she whispered.
• • • • •
Reassured by the sound of the shower, Min turned away from the bathroom door and toward the bed. She saw the green dress in a small pile on the floor on top of high-heeled shoes. She bent down to pick it up.
“Very nice,” she murmured. Then she glanced back at the bathroom door. She had never seen Livvy wear a dress. What was the occasion?
“Hmm.” She hung it in the large walk-in closet and put the shoes there as well.
“Nacho,” she called. Normally he greeted her at the front door.
When she had become Livvy’s assistant, she had given her a set of keys–the car, the apartment, the mail. They had slipped into a pattern quickly. Virtually every day, Min would let herself in, make tea, feed Nacho, and start checking the schedule she and SK shared. Then SK would arrive and they’d leave for their first appointment. Min took care of the business side of the work. SK took care of the client side. Livvy took care of the Multiverse.
The three of them had worked nearly non-stop for months now. Normally Livvy was ready to go when she arrived.
“Nacho,” Min called again.
A small meow came from under the bed.
Min went over, lifted the white ruffle at the bottom, and looked underneath. Two glowing orange eyes greeted her, and another meow.
“Nacho, what are you doing down there?” Then Min realized he’d hid himself from Livvy’s screaming. “Come on out,” she coaxed. “It’s okay now.”
He didn’t budge.
“Aunt Min brought you a new toy. Catnip. Your favorite.”
He just stared at her.
“It’s breakfast time,” she tried. “Aren’t you hungry?”
He meowed again but didn’t move.
“Well, we’ll see about that,” said Min, getting up.
Down the hallway and past the front door, Min went directly through the swinging, half-height, café doors into the kitchen. She passed the island with gas cooktops and proceeded to the cabinets of frosted glass. On her left were the built-in refrigerator and oven and, below the oven, was Nacho
’s rug.
She took his dry food from a bottom cupboard, making as much noise with the bag as possible. Then she poured some into his bowl and rattled it slightly. She waited a few seconds and then rattled it again. Sure enough, he came trotting in under the swinging doors. She scratched his back as he crunched away.
“That’s better,” she said.
Once she stowed the food, gave him fresh water, and put on a kettle for some tea, she slid into the upholstered breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen and opened her netbook.
“What?” she said out loud. “All appointments canceled?”
SK hadn’t left any notes as to why. A former client of Carmen’s plus two new clients had been scheduled today. They were all canceled. Min would need to start making phone calls right away. She scrolled to the next day. Same thing. Only one client was left for the rest of the week–one that could hardly be canceled. Min shook her head. All the rest though?
The teakettle whistled.
Min took the glass teapot from the cabinet, filled the built-in strainer with loose Genmai-cha, and then poured in the hot water. She heard the shower in the bedroom stop. Livvy would know what was going on.
As the tea took on its characteristic light green color, and the leaves and grains of roasted brown rice became soft and then plump in the strainer, Nacho made small figure eights around her calves. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears, and he flopped quickly on his back.
“You little glutton,” she murmured as she bent down and obliged with scratches on the stomach. “Are you not getting enough attention? What’s up with your mom, huh?”
“What do mean, what’s up?”
Startled, Min stood up. Livvy had come in as she toweled her hair but had stopped in the middle of the kitchen. Nacho ran toward the bedroom. Despite having just got up, Livvy looked tired but, more than that, she actually looked irritated. Min couldn’t remember ever seeing Livvy mad.
“SK’s canceled all appointments for today,” she said.
“Oh,” said Livvy, relaxing.
Maybe it hadn’t been anger. The expression had vanished so quickly Min couldn’t be sure. Now Livvy seemed puzzled. Then, as though she understood, she slowly nodded once and looked at the floor. Her hands moved mechanically with the towel.
“What’s going on?” asked Min.
Livvy looked up at her as though she’d forgotten she was there. For a second or two, she seemed as though she might be about to cry.
“Livvy, what’s happened?”
Livvy took a deep breath and sighed, but just as she was about to say something, the intercom buzzed.
“Must be SK,” said Min, going to the intercom.
She pressed the talk button. “Good morning, SK,” she chirped.
Although she expected an answer from the doorman, she knew SK would hear her. Maybe now, she’d get some answers.
“Ms. Ahn,” said the doorman. “I have someone here named Ursula to see Ms. Lawson.”
“Oh!” said Min, confused.
Though she had never met Ursula, she knew her by name. Shamans everywhere had heard the names of the women who had formed the first goggle network with Livvy.
She turned to look at Livvy, who seemed just as surprised.
“Let her in?” Min whispered, even though the intercom button was off.
“Of course, of course,” said Livvy, nodding.
“Okay, I’m buzzing you in,” said Min, as she pressed the intercom button.
What a strange day this was turning out to be.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“URSULA,” SAID LIVVY as she gave her a small hug. “It’s so good to see you.”
They hadn’t seen each other since the last time they’d been networked together.
Given her slightly regal nature, Ursula returned the hug with more conviction than Livvy had expected. It really did feel good to see Ursula.
“It is good for Ursula to see you too,” she said.
Her dark skin glowed with life; her bright pink head wrap matched her bright pink lipstick. A large cabochon of fire opal hung on a thick braided gold chain in the plunge of her neckline. She carried a large velvet satchel over her shoulder that looked like it had something heavy in it.
Min cleared her throat.
“Ursula,” said Livvy quickly. “This is Soo Min, my assistant.”
Livvy glanced at Min who was staring a bit wide-eyed at their exotic guest. “Soo Min, this is Ursula. I think you’ve heard of her.”
They inclined their heads toward one another.
“Of course,” said Min, smiling. “Who hasn’t?”
Ursula smiled pleasantly in return but didn’t say anything.
“Please, come in and sit down,” Livvy said in the lull.
“I was just about to pour some tea,” said Min.
Livvy led Ursula into the large living room. Instead of sitting down, Ursula went over to the sliding glass door and its view of the rooftop garden and the clouds covering Century City.
“Shamanism has been good for you,” she said.
Livvy couldn’t help but remember the first time she’d met Ursula in Watts. She had been the first shaman that Livvy and SK had sought out for help in the battle against Tiamat. Like the rest of the shamans, though, she had initially turned her down.
“It is only right,” said Ursula, nodding and turning toward her. “Ursula is pleased for you.”
Min set down two cups of tea on the coffee table.
“Thank you, Min,” said Livvy.
Min snuck a glance at Ursula and then headed back to the kitchen. They had both sensed she had something on her mind.
Ursula moved over to the chair opposite Livvy and sat down. As she did, she peered into the cup of green liquid and raised her eyebrows.
“Genmai-cha,” said Livvy. “A mix of green tea and roasted rice.”
“No doubt it is…refreshing,” said Ursula, not touching it.
Livvy smiled. In many ways, Ursula hadn’t changed which was nice.
Finally, she reached into her velvet satchel and removed a glass jar. She glanced at the label and then held it out to Livvy.
Livvy put down her tea and took it. “What’s this?” she asked. “Ursula’s Remedies and Herbs,” she read. “Holistic, organic, and guaranteed.”
She looked through the dark green glass and saw large tablets inside that chinked softly. She looked up at Ursula. “Are these for me?”
“Yes and no,” replied Ursula smoothly.
Livvy set the bottle in her lap and waited.
“Ursula would like,” she said, then hesitated. “Your endorsement.”
Livvy blinked at her. “I don’t understand.”
Ursula nodded as though she’d expected that. “Ursula would like the lightning shaman’s name on her products,” she said simply. “Endorsed by the lightning shaman.”
Livvy looked down at the bottle. She knew that many traditional shamans employed herbal remedies. In various cultures throughout the world, they were doctors in the physical sense as well as in the spiritual, plus counselor, therapist, and psychiatrist. Livvy had never used herbs for her clients–not that she objected to it. In fact, her few years of medical school had taught her that some plant-based remedies were just as effective as some pharmaceuticals. The only problem was herbal remedies could carry side effects and potentially do as much harm as good if not well understood.
“Not all shamans have benefited from Los Angeles becoming a new mecca for shamanism,” Ursula said. “For some, it has brought competition. Much competition for certain of us who practice the ways of vodun.”
Livvy peered at her quizzically.
“The Haitian refugees,” said Ursula.
“Oh,” said Livvy, frowning. “I had no idea.”
Ursula pointedly regarded the surroundings. “Ursula has no doubt.”
Wait a minute. Livvy sat up straighter. Is she saying it’s because of me?
She looked at the bottle in her
hands although she didn’t see it.
Is it because of me?
The last year had seemed like being in the center of a whirlwind. Livvy had never paused to consider what was happening beyond the bubble of activity around her. She looked up at Ursula who was sitting rigid, perched on the front of the chair, waiting. It had cost Ursula more than a bottle of pills to come here and ask for help. Once upon a time, the situation had been reversed.
Livvy looked back down at the pills again. She had no clue about herbs. Traditional shamans sometimes carried the knowledge of thousands of different plants and how they could be used. The natural environment could be a veritable storage locker of treatments but it was a part of shamanism in which Livvy had never participated.
It made her uncomfortable to put her name on something she didn’t understand but this was Ursula. She owed Ursula. She trusted her. More than that, though, she wanted to help.
“Ursula understands if you–”
“Yes,” Livvy said quickly. “I mean, sure, I can do that. I’d be glad to put my name on it.”
She watched as Ursula actually closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.
Gods. Things must be tough.
Livvy started to hand the jar back.
“No,” said Ursula, smiling. “Keep it. A gift.”
“Thank you,” said Livvy, trying to sound happy, though she had no idea what she might use them for.
Ursula smiled in return and glanced down at the tea. She picked up the cup, inhaled some of the aroma, and took a sip. She didn’t make a face although Livvy had the distinct impression she would have.
Ursula set the cup back down. “Refreshing,” she said.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
UNLIKE THE BARE studio across the alley that served as headquarters, Dominique’s personal studio was obviously occupied by an artist, although it wasn’t her. She silently closed the door behind her. The smells of linseed oil, turpentine, and paint were thick. Light poured in through the tall, frosted windows and washed over the canvases that were everywhere.
They hung on the walls, stood on easels, and were stacked on the floor, ten deep in places. They were every size, from tiny to gigantic, all of them painted to the very edges with vibrant and bold colors. Although none of them were the same, they all had a common subject: the symbols of the transition to the Multiverse.
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