Dominique saw Nicole sitting on the couch, a small canvas on her lap. Except for her much shorter hair, it was like looking in a mirror. They were twins. Dominique came over and sat down on the arm of the couch.
“Let me guess,” she said.
Nicole didn’t say anything; didn’t even pay attention. They were twins in outward appearance only. Nicole had never spoken a word in her life, nor was she a shaman.
Dominique looked down at the canvas. A bright orange spiral floated against the deep black of the background. Nicole’s hand moved quickly with the brush, between the palette in one hand and the canvas in her lap, back and forth. It was a wonder she didn’t splash paint everywhere, but she didn’t. There was never any paint on her fingers or clothes, nor any on the floor or furniture. It was yet another thing Dominique didn’t understand about her sister or the artwork.
From far away the paintings looked as though they’d been created with brush strokes. Up close it was clear that she was painting small dots–many, many thousands of small dots. Back and forth her brush went, from the palette to the canvas, over and over.
“You should see the real thing,” Dominique whispered, momentarily mesmerized as she looked over Nicole’s shoulder. “You’d be amazed at the goggles.”
Nicole froze.
Dammit, thought Dominique, and she froze as well. That had been careless.
After several long moments, Nicole started to paint again, more slowly now, hunching over the image as though she didn’t want anyone to see.
Dominique exhaled. Sometimes just the mention of the goggles was enough to send her over the edge, other times she didn’t notice.
That had been a close one.
“Have you eaten today?” Dominique got up from the couch. “Let’s see.”
In the kitchen, the beans and rice dish that was Nicole’s favorite was only half-eaten.
“You need to do better than this, Nicole,” Dominique called to her across the room. “Make sure you finish this.”
Dominique glanced at the counter and saw tubes of paint, plump and full, and she suddenly visualized a different kitchen, in a different country. She’d come home to find Nicole eating paint.
“Home” was putting it too kindly. They’d been on their own for a year, still in their early teens. Like the other residents of the tin city, they had a stifling little room with a dirt floor and a corrugated roof. As usual, Dominique had been out all day.
It hadn’t taken her long to realize there was nothing to be stolen from the neighbors. It hadn’t taken much longer to realize where food and money could be had. The only people who were well-fed and well-clothed were the foreign military. At that point, though, she had still been scrounging in their trash, lurking at the periphery. It took every waking hour to find what they needed. Even so, she didn’t eat until she was with Nicole. Otherwise, it was too easy to devour it all.
When she’d arrived home, it was dark. She lit the small candle that was their only source of light and found Nicole with the tube to her mouth, squeezing it, and swallowing. She grabbed her by the hair, hauled her out to one of the open sewers and forced her to vomit.
Dominique blinked at the kitchen counter, suddenly furious. She grabbed the paint tubes. “Never in the kitchen!” she screamed.
She stomped around the end of the counter, over to a long table under the windows, and slammed them down. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
Again, Nicole hunkered low over her canvas but kept painting.
Dominique stood there clenching her fists. After a minute, she took a deep breath and opened her hands. She ran them through her hair and adjusted her coat.
Her eye fell on the stack of new white canvases near the broom closet. It was dwindling. The art supplies were expensive, but Dominique never failed to acquire them. It was her sister’s only form of expression. In fact, other than sleep, it was the only thing she did. The consequences of not painting were severe. Nicole would either scream and thrash, hitting herself in the head, or sit in a near catatonic stupor. Dominique made sure the supplies never ran out.
Although the paintings would probably sell well, Dominique never tried to do that anymore. It hadn’t gone well the first time she tried to remove one from their tiny hovel in Miami. Nicole had immediately begun to shriek.
Instead, Dominique took any shamanism job she could get, good or bad, and she’d learned to deal drugs. The money in drugs was excellent. For a while, she hadn’t even practiced shamanism. Now in Los Angeles, with the advent of the lightning shaman, shamanism could pay well too, if you were at the top.
Dominique went back over to Nicole and stood watching her paint for a few minutes.
“Soon,” she said quietly. “Soon, we won’t have any worries. Liver the Lightning Shaman will be a thing of the past. You’ll see. Soon, everyone will see.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“OH YES,” SAID Mamacita. “I know that one.”
SK had known that if anybody knew who the dark-haired shaman in black was, it would be Mamacita. He’d come to the shop first thing, knowing it’d be open. What he didn’t expect was people shopping already. He and Mamacita had gone in the back to her private office. She’d told the shoppers to ring the bell on the counter when they were ready.
She and SK sat in a small room that had a pale green cast to it from the inverted prism in the high ceiling. It caught the exterior light on the roof with its top surface and transmitted it inside, through something that resembled a pyramid. It helped to lend her office the feeling of an arboretum, though it was hardly necessary since small and large plants were everywhere. The smell of moist earth and plant life permeated the air.
Two ancient leather chairs and matching ottomans were the main pieces of furniture. Small tables and shelves held plants that weren’t on the floor. For an office, it lacked any of the usual items, like a desk or filing cabinet. SK sometimes wondered if someone else handled the money side of things. As he had noted on previous visits, it was also devoid of any shaman paraphernalia whatsoever.
He had taken his usual seat on one of the ottomans, elbows on his knees, his fingers intertwined.
“Dominique,” said Mamacita, peering at him over her glasses. She leaned back in one of the chairs, her hands folded over her bulging middle.
“Dominique,” he repeated, thinking. “Never heard the name.”
“Mmm hmm. I’m not surprised,” said Mamacita, nodding. “There are a whole raft of new faces lately, some not too friendly, if you get my drift.”
“I do,” he said, nodding.
“Can you tell me why you’re looking for this one?”
SK trusted Mamacita without reservation. He related Livvy’s story, hitting the high points.
“Well I’ll be damned,” said Mamacita, pulling off her glasses. “They’re obviously networking goggles but how are they managing to find her? That’s a nice trick.”
“It is a nice trick and I have no clue how it’s being done.”
“Well, I’m sure you know that if I knew where Dominique and her friends could be found, I’d surely tell you.”
“I appreciate that, Mamacita. At least it’s a start.”
The faint tinkling bell at the door let them know a new customer had arrived or one had left. No one had yet rung the bell at the desk.
“Speaking of our girl,” said Mamacita, slowly. “What’s she up to?”
SK sat up straight. He thought of last night’s date even though he knew Mamacita couldn’t possibly know about that.
“What’s she up to?” he echoed, not sure what she was getting at.
“Something doesn’t seem quite right with her,” said Mamacita, folding her hands over her tummy again and tapping her thumbs together. “I can’t put my finger on it but something bothers me. Gives me a little nudge, you know?”
“Anything specific you can point to?” he asked, worried.
“Mmm, nothing specific, no,” she said, shaking her head. Then she though
t of something. “Well, here’s her purchase tab, for example.”
From memory, Mamacita rattled off a complete list of everything Livvy had bought–dates, items, and prices–for the last three months.
SK stared at her, astonished. “You memorized it?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” she said and chortled a bit. “No, I don’t memorize anything. I just remember it.” She tapped the side of her head and winked.
“You just remember it,” he said. “All of it. No big deal.”
She nodded. “No big deal,” she repeated.
SK shook his head and smiled. “You never cease to amaze, Mamacita.”
“True,” she said with a little grin.
“Would you mind repeating it?”
She did. A few items caught his attention
“A soul catcher?” he asked.
He knew that some traditional shamans would sometimes use this hollow bone tool to suck the evil spirit from a patient in the real world. In the Multiverse, it might be used to find a client’s wandering spirit and bring it back. Livvy had no need of either, nor had he ever seen her with one.
“What could she possibly want with a soul catcher?”
“Well, I’m asking myself the same thing,” said Mamacita. “And all the books. That’s not all of them, mind you, only the last three months. She must have a library by now.”
“Yes, she must,” SK muttered.
He hadn’t seen any books at her place. Why would she hide books?
“And, well…”
As Mamacita paused, SK realized he was hanging on her words. “Well what?” he asked, his voice tense.
“I don’t rightly know,” said Mamacita. “She seems different somehow.”
SK took in a deep breath. Yes, she seemed different all right but, then again, she would to him. He cleared his throat. “Different how?” he asked.
Mamacita shook her head and frowned. “I can’t hardly say. It’s a feeling that’s crept up on me, bit by bit. She doesn’t talk to me like she used to. She doesn’t smile as much either.”
Mamacita pushed her hands into her lap.“Oh, listen to me,” she said. “I sound like a real mother. Maybe our girl’s just growing up. A lot of things have changed.”
SK nodded. “A lot of things have changed,” he agreed.
The bell at the counter dinged but Mamacita didn’t move. Instead, she leaned forward, put her hand on his, and fixed him with a glare. “You find that dark one,” she said. “And when you do, I want to know.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“YOU ENDORSED HERBS?” asked Min. She held the bottle up, a puzzled look on her face.
Ursula had chatted a little for the sake of politeness but hadn’t stayed long. Just as well. Though it was good to see Ursula, what Livvy really wanted to do was get back to the Multiverse and see her mom.
Livvy took the two cups of tea into the kitchen. Min followed her with the bottle.
“Do you even know what’s in them?”
Even though she must have slept all night, Livvy was feeling tired. The nightmare, the chills, whatever it was, she was tired.
Min unscrewed the top of the bottle.
“Min, just leave it,” said Livvy, over her shoulder.
“I just want to take a peek,” she said.
Livvy dumped the leftover tea in the sink, set the cups down, and opened the dishwasher.
“Gods, you’d have to be a horse to swallow one of these,” said Min. “Or are you supposed to crush them?”
Livvy turned around and Min showed one to her. “Did they come with instructions?”
“Min,” said Livvy, the tiredness creeping into her voice. “I don’t know.” Livvy rubbed her stinging eyes.
“Don’t you think we’d better find out before she puts ‘lightning shaman’ all over everything?”
Livvy turned and picked up one of the teacups. “Min, it’ll be fine. I’m sure they’re fine.”
“You’re kidding,” said Min.
“No, I’m–”
The teacup slipped out of Livvy’s hand, fell into the sink and shattered, sending small shards flying. “Dammit.”
“Here,” said Min. She put the bottle down and stepped forward. “Let me.”
“Min,” said Livvy, louder than she’d intended. “Just…just leave it alone.”
Min stared at her for a few moments, looking like she was going to say something, but didn’t.
“Look, I’m just tired,” said Livvy, trying to take the edge off her tone. “I think I’m just going to lie down for a while. Okay?”
Again, Min hesitated then picked up the bottle. “Sure, Livvy,” she said, putting the cap back on. “You’re tired.”
Livvy left the broken cup in the sink and headed toward the swinging doors. “I don’t think there’s any point in you staying,” she said and left the kitchen. Min followed her.
Livvy went down the hallway and headed for the master bedroom. At the door, she turned to see Min looking after her, hovering, not sure what to do.
“Could you lock the door on your way out?” Livvy asked.
“Sure,” said Min quietly. “I’ll lock the door on the way out.”
“Thanks,” said Livvy.
She quickly stepped into the bedroom and shut the door behind her, leaning back against it. It hadn’t been a lie. She did feel tired and a little sore and achy now that the effect from the shower had faded. She heard the front door open and close as she looked over at the goggles on her nightstand.
• • • • •
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
Livvy’s mom said something that she didn’t quite catch.
“What?” Livvy said.
“I’m fading,” her mom yelled, though to Livvy it wasn’t all that loud.
Livvy knew something was wrong the minute she’d seen her worried face. Now that she was standing next to her, she could see what she was talking about. There was a sort of fuzziness, a dimming at the edges that was hard to see, but something was definitely happening.
“Maybe the summoning isn’t meant to last forever,” her mom yelled.
Livvy hadn’t known what to expect but this wasn’t it.
She’d never given a thought to how long a summoning would last. As far as she knew, very few shamans had ever tried such a thing. In fact, she had never read the definitive case study that clearly stated a shaman had succeeded.
Now it seemed like a summoning, even if it did work, wasn’t going to be permanent. Maybe it made sense. The summoning was already way beyond what was normal. Perhaps the impermanence of it was built into the mechanics of the Multiverse.
Well, that wasn’t acceptable.
Livvy put her hands on her hips as they stood looking at one another.
“I could try the summoning again,” suggested Livvy. The long protracted lightning strike had been difficult but she could do it again.
“What?” her mom yelled. “I can’t hear you.”
“I could try the summoning again,” Livvy yelled.
Gods, why couldn’t anything be easy? She’d done this to be with her mother. Now, she’d just be trying to make sure the summoning wasn’t reversed.
Her mom shook her head and looked into her eyes. “Let me go,” she slowly mouthed.
“No, Mom!” Livvy yelled. “I’ll figure something out.”
She’d found answers in the books and articles before. Maybe she’d missed something. She’d pore over every little detail again.
“Just try to hold on, Mom,” Livvy yelled. “Please!”
Livvy watched as her mom’s shoulders lifted ever so slightly, and she seemed to sigh. Then she nodded her head and smiled a little.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Livvy yelled. “Just hold on!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SK HAD CALLED three times before Livvy picked up.
Was she trying to avoid his calls? He wouldn’t be surprised after the way he’d acted last night. In fact, he had not intended to call her
today in order to let things settle down after the disaster dinner, but a former client of Carmen’s was in desperate straights. After Min had finished the cancellation calls, she had phoned to let SK know the circumstances.
A year ago, Livvy had insisted she could make time for both Sunny and Carmen’s patients. Despite having her own clientele, plus all the new people, SK knew better than to try and stop her. He knew she felt responsible for their clients because she still blamed herself for the deaths of the shamans who had cared for them.
“Hi, SK,” he heard her say. She sounded a little groggy, like he’d woken her.
“Hi, Liv,” he said simply.
There was silence.
He decided to continue. “I’m calling about one of Carmen’s people,” he said. “He’s taken a turn for the worse.”
“Okay,” she said, waiting.
“Look,” he said. “I haven’t tracked down Dominique yet–”
“Is that her name? Dominique?”
“Yes, that’s her name but I don’t know where she is.”
“It’ll be fine,” Livvy said. “I can handle this Dominique.”
“Yes, I know you can because you’ll have Min to help you.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Liv?”
“I don’t need Min’s help on this, SK.”
“I think you do,” he said. “It’d be a network of the two of you.”
Again, there was silence. This time he waited her out.
“SK, it’s not necessary. It’s really not.”
“Liv, you’re the one who asked me to find out about this other shaman and I think you’re right. I think she’s a problem and I’m not going to let you go to the Multiverse if there’s a risk. Not even for one of Carmen’s people.”
“Min’s not ready,” she tried.
In fact, Min was ready. He knew so. More than that, he knew Livvy knew. Why was she fighting him on this?
Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Books 1 -3 Page 38