Though Livvy hoped so too, she doubted it. She remembered Min’s reaction to Livvy’s hand on her stomach. Now it was nausea and vomiting the moment they’d seen one another.
“I’m going to leave this with you,” Livvy said, handing the gift back to Colin.
“Okay,” he said, puzzled, looking down at it.
“And we’re going to go,” Livvy said.
“Oh no,” Colin said. “Really? Minty was really looking forward to seeing you guys.”
“Us too,” Livvy said, already heading to the door with SK following. “But not today.”
“She’ll be so disappointed,” Colin said, trailing behind them.
“I’ll call,” Livvy said, picking up speed. “Will you tell her that?”
“Of course,” Colin said, hurrying to open the door for them, his face looking a little worried.
Livvy nearly sprinted to the sidewalk. “Just…just tell her I’ll call.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
IF LIVVY’S MOTHER were here, Livvy could ask her. Did you have hyperemesis gravidarum in your third trimester? But even if she were, Livvy knew she was grasping at straws. The pattern was clear. Min’s symptoms didn’t come from her carrying the next lightning shaman. They came from being near the current one. Maybe if they–
“Liv?” SK said, and she felt his hand on her knee. “Did you hear me?”
Gods, she’d done it again.
“I’m sorry, SK,” she said, blinking. “What did you say?”
“I said we’re here.”
“Already?” The ride back from Min’s must not have taken long. The engine was idling and SK had pulled into the circular drive in front of her building. “That was quick,” Livvy said.
“It was twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes?”
She checked the clock on the dash. Twenty minutes.
“We’ll find a way to tell her,” SK said.
She took a deep breath and nodded. “I know,” she said. “I know.”
She said it despite feeling it was the furthest thing from the truth. From the moment they’d landed, nothing had been right. She thought about Mamacita, Ursula, and Wan-li. Even Alvina. Nothing was what she’d expected. Min was married to a great guy and yet their baby–
“Get some rest,” SK said. She blinked to find she’d been staring right past him. “And I’ll see you in the morning.”
Goodbye so soon? Behind him, the sun was setting, but the last thing she wanted to do was say goodbye. But what were the choices? Until last night when they were apart, she hadn’t realized how much time they’d spent together. For the last few months they’d been all but inseparable. Being back home was a dose of unwanted reality.
“Okay,” was all she could say.
“I’d kiss you goodnight,” he said, smiling a little, “but–”
She wouldn’t let him finish. Instead, she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She lingered for a moment. The stubble of his beard rested against her skin. She inhaled the light scent of his shaving soap. With an effort, she forced herself back only to feel his lips lightly graze her skin. She paused, but then her hand was on the seat belt and in a few seconds she was out of the car.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said, not daring to look at him, and shut the door.
She used the cane to step onto the curb and heard him pull away. As the sound of the car faded, she sighed and paused. For a moment, she had a crazy thought. Maybe she and SK would just run away. No plan. Just get as far away as they could. Away from the next lightning shaman, away from the Institute, and as far away from L.A. as possible. In what seemed like another lifetime, Alvina had told her she could give up shamanism. Was it too late?
Squealing tires on the driveway behind Livvy made her jump. She turned and backed away thinking a car might have gone out of control. But the vehicle she saw was very much in control. In fact, it was stopped.
Two men in matching black polo shirts and aviator sunglasses jumped out. Livvy backpedaled again, trying to get out of their way, not even using the cane. They were obviously in a hurry. But it only took a few steps to realize there was no getting out of their way. They were heading for her.
“What–” was all she got out as they each grabbed an arm, ignoring the bright sparks.
The cane dropped to the pavement and was quickly left behind as they hustled her backward to the building. Her shoulders slammed painfully into the granite.
“Welcome to L.A.,” said one in a thick Russian accent.
“Now go home,” said the other, sounding the same. “Shamans need not apply.”
“Got it?” said the first.
“Got it?” said the second, shaking her.
“What’s going on here?” said a voice from the lobby door.
The doorman! Thank goodness!
“Mind your own business,” the first one growled at him.
Though Livvy had managed to catch her breath and help had arrived, the sky had already clouded over. As though the temperature had dropped below the dew point, moisture materialized in the air above. The autumn sunset was gone and thick clouds already threatened a downpour. But it wasn’t rain that started. It was thunder.
Though the two men had already released their grip on her and turned to face the sky, it was too late.
“Get in your car,” she said.
They looked at each other, and the first one took off his sunglasses. Beyond them, streetlights flickered to life in the growing darkness.
“Do you hear me?” Livvy yelled. The doorman had already retreated. “If you want to live, get in your car!” A familiar heat blossomed in her chest as she shoved them both in the back. “Run!” she yelled. Thunder cracked and the air around them vibrated. “Run!”
She was barely aware of them as she tried to stop the fury spinning out of control in her core. She stumbled away from the building. There was traffic on the street, pedestrians across the way, a woman with a stroller in the crosswalk. The two men were almost to their car. Thunder pealed again, a long, booming, rolling peal. As surely as she could see it, Livvy knew lightning was coming. Fire was building in her chest. She recalled the wild strikes in Guatemala, the burning utility pole on the Hopi mesa.
“No,” she muttered. “No.”
The black Mustang accelerated away.
I’m safe, she thought. I don’t need it!
But the clouds continued to churn furiously and the air became charged and dry.
“No!” she screamed up at the sky.
An enormous flash lit the clouds. Her vision went painfully red. Thunder rattled the cement sidewalk. But lightning did not fall.
Instead, it arced crazily in the dark mass above her, and the heat in her chest released. The bright flashes reflected off a thousand windows. They stopped traffic in every direction and made pedestrians cower and run–but lightning didn’t fall. As fast as they’d appeared, the clouds thinned and popped out of existence. In moments, Livvy found herself squinting at a red and gold sunset.
Stunned, she could only stare until she realized passersby were gawking at her. She hurried to pick up her cane and immediately headed back to the building. She was soon inside the lobby. The doorman was gone, apparently thinking it was safer in the interior. She put a hand to the back of her head. There was a bump. She hadn’t even realized she’d hit the wall. As she winced, she remembered Wan-li’s stiff face and then Ursula being afraid. Livvy faced the street again.
Is this what’s been happening? Is this what everyone’s been going through? Anger began to rise, but mindful of the sky, Livvy kept it in check. Shamans need not apply? Now go home?
She gripped the cane tight in her fists.
“This is my home.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“FRESH PANTIES,” SIDIROV said to them. Feet propped on his desk, he folded his hands on top of his stomach. “You two need fresh panties. That’s what you’re telling me.” At the opposite end of his office, they stood sta
ring straight ahead. The muscles bulged in their shirts, farm boys from the old country. “Hmph,” he said. “Big guys, tough guys, and a little girl frightens you.”
One of them glanced out the picture window behind his desk. Sidirov tilted the swivel chair and looked over his shoulder. The sun had set but the glow of downtown, just a few miles away, meant it was never truly dark. Up above, a few of the brightest stars were visible.
Clouds? Thunder?
Except for the way they’d run with their tails between their legs, it’d be laughable. There’d been no sign of drugs or alcohol on either of them. But lightning? It couldn’t be real. Sidirov smirked and stole a sideways look at them. Let’s see.
“Boom!” he said, throwing out his hands.
They both went rigid, the looks on their faces a bit wild. He scowled at them. That wasn’t exactly what he’d expected.
“Boss, it was unreal,” said one.
“I’m telling you,” said the other. “It was her. She was making lightning.”
Sidirov thought of the burned out apartment from two years ago: the big, black circle where one of her friends had incinerated. He studied the logo on their polo shirts: the double-headed eagle with the red cross and lightning bolt. Sure, she was called the Lightning Shaman, but–he tilted the chair and checked the dark sky again–lightning?
Sidirov dragged his feet off the desk with an effort. They hit the carpet with a bang as he used the momentum to stand. The two men waited on the dance floor, feet apart, hands clasped in front of their belts. They’d dealt with plenty of shamans–plenty. They were good boys. They knew how to follow orders.
“Hmph,” he muttered.
Hands in pockets, he plodded around the end of his long desk. A shaman who wasn’t intimidated–that didn’t happen often. When it did, it usually didn’t end well for the shaman. But this one, she was well known. It wouldn’t do for her to just disappear. He considered the two boys again. If not them, then… Sidirov stopped his slow saunter.
“Use a wedge to knock out a wedge,” he muttered. Yes, that was it. “Get Valentin,” he ordered.
CHAPTER TWENTY
LIVVY WAS DIALING SK on the cell when the landline rang. Under the lamplight at the end of the couch, the small screen on the handset was lit a bright blue. Though she’d planned to ignore it, she couldn’t help but look at the caller ID. It was Min. Livvy jumped up and snatched the phone off the charging base.
“Min? Are you all right?”
“Hello to you, too,” Min said. Though Livvy could picture her smiling, her normally bubbly voice was a bit subdued, “Honestly though, I’ve been better.” There was a pause. “That’s kind of why I’m calling.”
“What can I do?” Livvy asked. “Just tell me. I mean anything.”
Min laughed a little. “Don’t ever change,” she said quietly.
Livvy couldn’t help but smile, and some of the tension drained from her shoulders.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not why you called,” Livvy said, as she sank down on the couch. “But it’s good to hear your voice, Minnie Mouse.” In fact, until Livvy had said it, she hadn’t realized how much that was true. She closed her eyes. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me, too,” Min said. “Nacho, too. It’s just that he has a funny way of showing it.”
Livvy smiled and nodded. “I think I hurt his feelings.”
“He’s really sensitive that way, you know,” Min said with a bit more energy. Livvy could picture the earnest look on her face and that made Livvy smile all the more. “But you’re right,” Min said, “That’s not why I called either. I need a favor.”
Livvy’s eyes popped open. “Name it,” she said.
“Well,” Min said. “It’s the little matter of a poltergeist.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
VALENTIN PACED IN his living quarters.
Use a wedge to knock out a wedge.
He would like nothing better. The Lightning Shaman was a dangerous complication. That was obvious now. But if Sidirov was looking for a Multiverse solution–Valentin fingered his two pendants–that could prove even more risky.
He faced his expansive collection again. Though some would consider his apartment small, it was spacious by the old Russian standards. Aside from the shelves in front of him, everything he owned would have fit in a trunk. The ancient books and rare herbs from the old country had taken a long lifetime to collect. His drum sat on the floor underneath the shelves. Almost three feet across but only a few inches deep, the reindeer hide was stretched tight across the wooden hoop and decorated with bright tassels at the four points of the compass. He stared at it for a few moments and crossed his arms tightly over his chest.
Use a wedge to knock out a wedge.
The rhythmic sounds of drumming drifted through his consciousness, and he let his mind and gaze wander. The out-of-print texts held more esoteric remedies, cures, songs, prayers, and incantations than most libraries. He’d read and studied them all. He perused the dried plants as he walked by them: acacia, calamus, poppy, chaga, golden root, datura, nightshade, iboga, morning glory, peyote, mushrooms, sage, sweet grass, tobacco, cedar, devil’s thorn, yohimbe bark. The containers continued on, but Valentin paused and stroked his long beard, careful not to work it into a point.
On a whim, he reached for the glass jar of tobacco.
“Nicotiana,” he murmured.
He removed the lid and inhaled. The aroma–something like raisins and freshly chopped wood–cleared the mind. He pinched a little, placed it on his tongue, and put the jar back on the shelf. As he returned to the books, his tongue rolled the leaves along the roof of his mouth. He closed his eyes and reached out to the shelf of books. Lightly, he ran his fingers over the brittle cloth spines. So much of shamanism was inspiration. Though Sidirov treated it like a business, there was some artistry in it, a bit of true creativity. He chewed the leaves, savoring their bitter bite, and let his awareness expand. Without opening his eyes, he selected one of the volumes, slid it out, and opened it.
It was an illustration of the green beetle, Meloidae. He cocked his head at it.
Find a wedge. What to do about the Lightning Shaman. What to do about Bradley.
Valentin shelved the book and stepped sideways, back to the herbs. His eyes rolled up into his head as his fingers skimmed the glass and metal containers. He stopped and pulled down a small tin. Without opening his eyes, he took off the lid and inhaled.
Ginseng. Find a wedge. The green beetle. The Lightning Shaman. Bradley.
Ginseng?
Valentin opened his eyes as a smile grew on his face. His old friend was fond of sayings from the mother country, but the Chinese had a saying too: Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“MIN,” SK SAID, “are you sure you should be here?”
Although SK noticed that Liv stayed about as far away as she could get, the other side of the dining room might not be far enough. Though Min had insisted on making the introductions, she was looking pale.
“I’m good,” she said, taking a seat but holding on to him for support. “I’ll just watch.”
SK studied her for a moment. Colin was waiting in the car out in the driveway, not ten seconds away. If need be, Min could be gone in under a minute. But SK had to agree; it’d been good to have her here. He’d only been to one Korean jesa and Liv hadn’t been to any.
Yong, an only child, was holding it in his house. Ostensibly, he was Min’s client. In reality though, it was his mother who needed treatment–or rather his mother’s spirit. Sun-Hi had been dead nearly a year.
The children had been ushered out by Yong’s wife. Only he remained.
“Today will mark the first anniversary,” he said. He was big enough to be a football player and looked uncomfortable in his black suit and matching tie.
The jesa table, actually the dining room table covered with a white tablecloth, was against the wall at the far end of the room. It was cr
owded with red lacquer bowls and plates that were piled high with food of every kind. Although there was beef, fish, vegetables, and fruits, Sun-Hi had apparently been fond of rice cakes. There were a few plates of those. At the center was her wood memorial tablet, her name hand-painted down its center. At the back corners were white candles in red candlesticks, though these remained unlit. Yong had explained that last time they’d nearly started a fire.
“Are you sure, Min?” Liv asked.
“I’m fine, you guys,” she said, waving them off. “Don’t worry about me. I’m ready when you are.”
SK took a look at the room. Liv’s mat was already laid out to the left of the table, the small sage pillow at the head, new silver goggles sitting by. All the dining chairs were lined up against the opposite wall.
“Yong,” SK said. “You’ve never had a problem with the chairs?”
Yong stood at the table, holding a lacquer cup. He glanced at the chairs and Min.
“Never had a problem with those,” he said. “Just the…uh…” He indicated the table. “You know.”
“Right,” SK said.
He checked Min and Liv. They both looked a bit tired. He and Liv had been on the phone long into the night. He’d been bothered by the visit from the goon squad. But almost equally disturbing was the lightning she’d called in the real world. It was one thing for bolts to fall on a nearly deserted mesa top or in the middle of the rainforest. But the overpopulated and crowded metropolis of L.A. was another thing entirely.
Even so, that wasn’t the problem at hand.
“All right, Yong,” SK said cautiously. “Go ahead.”
Yong gingerly set the cup down in front of the memorial tablet and yanked his hand back. The room was quiet and still. Liv stood next to her mat, watching Yong intently. Min was poised on the front of her chair. SK stood at the center of the room.
“So far so good,” SK said. “Now the rice wine.”
Shaman, Lover, Warrior: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Book 5) Page 8