There was silence in the room.
Alvina slowly shook her head and got up. She walked to the front window and parted the drapes to look outside. It had started to rain in giant infrequent drops plopping down on the roof. Alvina watched in fascination.
“Rain in the desert,” she said to herself. “Rare, especially this side of the mountains.” She gazed upward. “They say it’s El Niño.” Then she shook her head and was quiet again.
Livvy looked at SK and he shrugged. The silence seemed to stretch into minutes.
“My friends,” Alvina finally said, still looking outside. “It can’t always be as we wish.”
“Is it the summoning?” Livvy asked, afraid of the answer.
Alvina turned around and let the drapes close. “No, it has nothing to do with that,” she said. “Although,” she fixed Livvy with a serious look from which she could not turn away. “You shouldn’t have done it. Summoned into the Multiverse and not the real world? It can’t last. It won’t.”
It can’t last?
“It’s Dominique,” SK said, seething.
Alvina shook her head again. “No, not her either.”
There were a few moments of silence until Livvy couldn’t stand it anymore. “Well, then what?” she asked.
Alvina tilted her head slightly toward her and there were those sad eyes again. “It’s you,” she said, pointing at Livvy.
Livvy drew back, pressing into the couch as her hand went to the spot on her chest where Alvina was pointing. She thought for a second about trying to laugh it off but realized that Alvina’s face had turned deadly serious.
“I don’t understand,” SK finally said. “What do you mean it’s Livvy?”
Alvina came back to the chair and sat down. She looked SK directly in the eye. “Water Baby,” she said quietly. “It’s the lightning shaman.”
Her words caused SK to tighten his grip on Livvy’s hand.
“Okay,” said Livvy, afraid now. “What is this water baby? That’s the third time I’ve heard it.”
Alvina seemed surprised and then looked back at SK. “She doesn’t know about the water baby?”
He was quiet for a few moments and then gave a small shrug. “A little,” he said quietly.
Livvy saw something resigned in his face. Suddenly, she felt an odd displacement, as though she weren’t really part of this conversation, just an observer.
“What about the water baby?” Livvy asked.
Alvina continued to stare at SK but, when he remained silent, she turned to Livvy. “The water baby is what desert peoples in California call him,” she said. “In other parts of the world, he is known by different names: the Master of Animals, the Dwarf of Uxmal, and others. He is the shaman’s aid and ally, the go-between, the intercessor, the one who keeps the spiritual world and real world in balance. A shaman who has the aid of the water baby has more power–is capable of doing more and better healing–in the Multiverse.”
“The Dwarf of Uxmal,” Livvy repeated.
She remembered the first time the Nahual had seen SK. That’s what she had called him.
“Not all intercessors are dwarfs though,” said Livvy.
“Oh, no, no, no,” said Alvina shaking her head. “Only if we’re lucky, since dwarfs are the most powerful. In our part of the world, water baby takes his name from the small footprints that he has left in the dark desert rocks of the north. Many, though not all shaman cultures, prize the presence of the dwarf most highly.”
Livvy looked at SK and he smiled a little sheepishly at her. “So, you’re a rock star,” she said.
He shrugged.
Livvy turned her attention back to Alvina. “But what does that have to do with me?”
SK looked at Alvina, also interested in the answer. He’d obviously known about the water baby.
“Many times,” Alvina said, “when there is a water baby, he has a perfect match–the perfect shaman to whom he can lend his aid. The Master of Animals is naturally paired with the Master of Fish, a woman who lives under the water.” She looked at SK. “The perfect match for the water baby is…” Alvina turned her eyes to Livvy. “The lightning shaman.”
“Well but that’s good,” said Livvy, encouraged. No wonder it felt so right to be with him.
“But not in the way you think,” said Alvina. “Not in the way that you want.” She gazed down at their intertwined fingers on the couch. “Not in that way.”
“Why?” Livvy and SK both asked.
“It is a union in the spiritual sense,” Alvina said. “Not the physical.”
“What?” said SK, incredulous. “Why one and the not other? They’re not mutually exclusive.”
Alvina took a deep breath and opened her mouth to begin what seemed like a long explanation but she stopped and addressed Livvy. “Has your menstrual period stopped?”
Livvy blinked and stared at her. “W–What?” she managed to stammer.
How could Alvina have possibly known?
Livvy had been exhausted lately, working too hard, under too much stress. She hadn’t had her period for a few months but she had chalked it up to the constant pressure.
“Be honest with me,” said Alvina, waiting.
“It stopped a few months ago,” Livvy said mechanically.
SK turned to look at her, his eyebrows mounding furiously.
Alvina nodded. “Your child bearing days are over,” she said.
SK whipped his head back around to face Alvina. “That’s ridiculous,” he said. “Livvy’s only, I don’t know, in her early twenties. There could be any number of reasons–”
Alvina gently held up a hand and quieted him. To Livvy she said, “I’m sorry, my young friend, but I think you sense the truth of it.”
Livvy did. Somehow, despite telling herself all this time it was only temporary, she felt the rightness of what Alvina said and now she sensed the futility of arguing it.
“But–” SK said.
“Always there is a balance,” Alvina said. “Something lost for what is gained. As shamans, we are sometimes at the center of life and death, the knife edge that separates them.”
“SK, you know that as shamans age, we become more powerful. It is the young ones who struggle.”
SK could only nod in agreement.
“As we age, we become more and more capable of helping people to live, of sustaining life, but we lose the ability to create it.” She nodded to herself as though she were remembering a different time in her life. “Always the balance,” she concluded.
“But,” said SK. “You say as you get older. Livvy should have years to go.”
“No, my friend,” said Alvina. “She is the lightning shaman. Her power has blossomed in the Multiverse–grown and grown and grown.” She looked at Livvy. “Hasn’t it?”
It hadn’t been a secret but suddenly Livvy felt caught. Finally she nodded. “I move fast in the Multiverse,” she said and glanced at SK, who was staring at her. “Very fast.”
“Helped by you, Water Baby,” Alvina said. “And also because of who she is–a shaman the likes of which comes once in a generation.” Alvina nodded to the window. “I knew you were near when the clouds began to build.”
“Shouldn’t that only happen in the Multiverse?” he said.
Alvina shrugged. “And yet, here it is,” she said. “The wound she carried back into the real world, the weather she creates, and now the speed. Even when we first met–the color of her hair and the electricity during healings. This isn’t new.”
Suddenly, Livvy thought of the thunderclap when they’d kissed. SK must have been thinking the same thing.
“And…the kiss?” asked SK. His voice was tentative now, no longer the assured tone he’d had when they first arrived.
Livvy found herself dreading the answer, and the tight grip on her hand let her know SK was feeling the same.
“Completely wrong,” Alvina snapped, surprising them both. “Completely the wrong direction.”
Livvy stared at
her and SK shook his head, neither of them comprehending.
“SK,” Alvina said sternly. “Water baby aids the shaman, not the other way around. You give your support, your energy to them.” She motioned with her hand going from SK to Livvy. “It goes against all nature and the Multiverse if it should flow the other way.” Then she motioned from Livvy to SK. “Then you take the energy that she offers. She can’t help it. Especially if she…”
There was silence.
“If she what?” Livvy heard herself asking.
Alvina turned the sad eyes on her. “Especially if she loves you,” said Alvina. “When you open your heart like that in an unguarded moment, you lose control.”
Livvy stared at her without really seeing.
How long had they been here? Fifteen minutes?
“As you change in the Multiverse, you change here,” said Alvina quietly. “If you want to stop, then stop.”
“What do you mean stop?” SK said.
“To end the changes here, you must bring an end to the transformations in the Multiverse. You can’t stop the lightning but you can stop the speed. If you don’t, the changes will continue. The more you transform, the more powerful you become, the smaller the possibility of being together. If you stop now, there may still be a chance.” Alvina paused and looked down at their hands. “Of course, if you really want to be together, the only true guarantee is to stop being a shaman.”
SK inhaled sharply but didn’t say anything.
Livvy closed her eyes.
Maybe it’d been thirty minutes, not fifteen. Even so, how could so much have changed in so little time?
Drained of emotion there were no tears. She felt SK’s hand on hers.
Don’t let go, SK. Whatever you do, don’t let go.
He didn’t.
“I’m sorry,” she heard Alvina whisper.
CHAPTER FIFTY
“IN AN EXCLUSIVE interview, Channel 8 Morning News is the first to bring you an in-studio interview with shaman Dominique Durand.”
The morning news anchor was the station’s up and coming reporter, Mike Chambers. With only ten years in Los Angeles, he was a relative newcomer. He had been covering the lightning shaman almost exclusively for the station and had used that coverage to land the desk spot.
“Welcome, Dominique,” he said, turning to her.
In her softest, smoothest, and most appealing of tones, she tilted her head and smiled her best smile. “Thank you, Mike. It’s a pleasure to be here.”
“Dominique, let’s get right to what everybody’s been wanting to know: What has happened to the Lightning Shaman, Olivia Lawson?”
“Honestly, Mike,” said Dominique sadly. “It’s not really for me to say what’s going on with another shaman. I can tell you, though, that I’ve seen Olivia and spoken to her.”
“Well then, you’re the only person I know to have done that.”
Dominique knew he’d probably been calling every phone number he had, anyone even remotely connected to Liver, and they had all refused his calls.
“Can you tell us how she is?” he asked.
“I’m happy to say that she’s doing as well as can be expected,” Dominique replied.
“As can be expected,” he echoed. “So, not quite business as usual then?”
“I think that’s fair to say,” said Dominique coyly.
“It’s probably a forgone conclusion after Claire Stockard’s death,” he said and turned to the camera. “I’m sure most of our viewers are familiar with the circumstances surrounding the death of Claire Stockard, two days ago. For those who aren’t, this reporter was at the Stockard compound that day.”
Dominique watched a monitor that was built into the long and angled desk at which they sat. The video had been shot from the gate and focused on the silver sedan.
As it drew closer, the camera was jostled and Mike’s voice was almost lost in the clamor. “Mike Chambers here with Channel 8 News,” she heard him say. “Here comes Olivia’s sedan. We saw Olivia, Soo Min, and SK hurriedly enter the vehicle at the front door only minutes after the ambulance arrived. From this distance it was hard to tell but it looked like Olivia had blood on her shirt and jacket.”
Then the sedan rolled slowly by. Dominique recognized Liver’s little friend who’d blinded them all. In the back seat, the tinted windows made it difficult to see. Dominique had seen this footage before, as anybody who watched the news anywhere had.
“We can just make out Olivia and SK in the back seat as they’re going by. It looks like Olivia is actually lying down, though whether it’s because she needs to or she wants to be out of camera view, we can’t tell.”
Shouts and calls to Liver drowned out Mike’s voice and the footage ended. Dominique was careful not to smile.
Mike looked at the camera again.
“Channel 8 news has also learned that Ms. Stockard’s son Matthew has been in touch with his attorneys and that a civil suit in the matter of a wrongful death is being considered.”
He turned back to Dominique. “Is there any light you could shed on that aspect, Dominique?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head and flipping her hair a bit at the end. “I’m afraid not.”
“Is there anything you can tell us?”
“Mike, I think shamanism has come a long way in Los Angeles and I’d hate to see that trend reversed. I want to reassure your viewers that there are other shamans here who can help them.”
“Shamans such as yourself.”
“Actually, no,” she said, giving her pre-calculated laugh. “Honestly, Mike, I’m completely booked up.”
This was a lie, of course, but Dominique had seen with Liver that when something wasn’t available, people seemed to demand it all the more.
He raised his eyebrows and nodded once.
“Although I’d try to make an exception for any of Olivia’s clients,” she added, as though it were an afterthought.
“Oh really,” he said. “So, you don’t think Olivia will be working for her clients anymore?”
As though she’d let the cat out of the bag, Dominique frowned a little. “Oh no, no. I’m sure she will be. Eventually.”
“Eventually,” he echoed.
Dominique only smiled and nodded.
“Well,” said Mike, wrapping up the four-minute spot, “Thank you, Dominique, for coming to the studio in a shaman first.”
“Mike, it has truly been my pleasure.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
LIVVY HAD ALWAYS assumed she’d have children. She adored them. In what seemed like a different life, back in medical school, she had intended to specialize in pediatrics. Of course, she’d never had to make a decision about kids. She’d never met the right guy–until SK. They’d have to talk about the genetics of dwarfism but…
Nacho was rubbing his face on her ankle. She blinked and slowly came back to the moment. She was still standing in the middle of the living room, goggles in hand.
“Hey, Nacho,” she said quietly.
She crouched down and he put his front paws on her knees as though he were going to climb up, desperate for affection.
“I know,” Livvy said, scratching the top of his head and behind his ears. “I’ve been pretty scarce.”
He purred and she kept moving her fingers but her eyes unfocused again. She heard Alvina’s voice: ‘Your child bearing days are over.’
She and SK had hardly said a word on the drive back from Palm Springs. She had been too shell-shocked to put together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. She knew that he had glanced at her several times but he’d kept quiet also.
Their first kiss hadn’t been right, she thought suddenly. Besides not remembering much of it, she realized that she’d probably sat in the chair long after SK had left because she hadn’t been able to get up.
Or maybe he’s just a great kisser, she thought, smiling a little to herself. Because he is that. They had to be together. It just felt too right. Maybe Alvina was…
Nacho was meowing.
Livvy blinked at him, the half-smile quickly fading. “Look Nacho, I’ve got to go for a while but there’s fresh food in the bowl.” She leaned forward and kissed his soft forehead before standing up. “I’ve got to see Mom,” she said. “It’s time to have that talk.”
The words didn’t have the dread she was used to feeling when she thought of her mom and the summoning. Maybe because SK knew now. Maybe because she knew the summoning wouldn’t last. Maybe because she was past feeling anything.
Whatever it was, it was a relief. She went to the bedroom with the goggles and shut the door behind her.
• • • • •
“Mom,” said Livvy, “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.”
Without a goggle network, the downtown cityscape of the Underworld was restored. Livvy glanced around before hugging her mom. Although she didn’t see any of them, the crowd of ancestor spirits might be restored as well.
“That’s all right, honey,” said her mom, hugging her back. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
Livvy backed away from her so that she could see her face. “I wish it were that simple,” she said.
“I don’t understand,” said her mom.
There was no good way to say this.
“I can’t stay in the Multiverse but neither can you.”
“What?”
“You can’t stay in the Multiverse, Mom. It just doesn’t work that way.”
Even as she repeated what Alvina had said, she started to put the pieces together.
“Everything here seems to work against it,” she continued. “The ancestor spirits last time…”
Her mom nodded, tentatively at first, and then with more force. “You must be right,” she said.
A brief look of confusion quickly changed to one of resignation. It was as though she’d heard a death sentence and already resigned herself to it–a death sentence that Livvy had delivered.
Livvy hugged her. “Mom, I’m so sorry,” she said.
They swayed together for a few seconds; Livvy did her best not to cry.
“Wait,” said her mom. “It won’t last in the Multiverse.” She held Livvy at arm’s length. “What about the real world?”
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