The assist he’d provided had been too much–way too much. But he’d barely touched her and only for a fraction of a second. Liv wouldn’t have even noticed. Though Dominique was a shaman of power and cunning, a match for virtually any shaman SK had met, she was no Liv. He gazed at his hand.
“Dominique?” called the daughter again. “Are you done?”
Her mother sat up in bed. “Abrir a porta,” she said in Portuguese.
Dominique tossed the useless goggles to the floor. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I’d say we’re done.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
TAMARA TUGGED FURIOUSLY on the back of Oksana’s silk robe and yanked the big woman to her feet. The matching orange cap had long gone.
“What happened?” Oksana gasped, clutching Tamara’s arm. Oksana’s wide mouth gaped open in a broad, flat face. Her wild eyes darted between Tamara and the devastation.
Though the forest to their left was intact, the misshapen trees to the right had been flattened. In the distance, Tamara could see a blasted crater. But the impact didn’t concern her. She quickly wheeled in every direction.
“Where is that man?” Tamara asked. “The one with the butcher knife.”
“That is no man,” Oksana said, still grabbing Tamara’s arm and turning with her. “That is Erlik, the god of sickness.” She swallowed hard. “And of death.”
A loud, low twang sang out from the edge of the trees, as though someone had plucked a giant string. But it was quickly followed by a frantic and bone-chilling squeal.
“Kochon!” Tamara yelled.
He’d been hoisted by his hind leg high into the branches of a gnarled tree, some twenty yards away. Oksana’s weasel dangled next to him, hanging by its neck, unmoving.
“No!” Oksana screamed.
Kochon struggled so violently he shook the limb from which they hung, making the weasel dance chaotically. Both Oksana and Tamara had already taken steps toward them, when Tamara pulled Oksana back. Underneath the pair of suspended spirit helpers, Erlik stood tall. Oksana began to whimper, but Tamara felt the quick boil of rage.
“Earthquake,” she said, between clenched teeth.
The ground tilted and bucked in response. Oksana went down hard, but Tamara didn’t stop. The ground in front of them undulated like a tidal wave, surging toward Erlik.
“Your power!” Tamara yelled to Oksana. “Use it!”
Oksana managed to get to her knees and extended a palm. “Flame,” she said, barely audible over the rumbling earth.
A conical, blue blaze like an afterburner erupted from her hand. Tamara had to avert her eyes from the searing stream of heat. It flew outward, aimed directly at Erlik, reaching him before the quake. But with a casual flick of his wrist, he raised the enormous butcher knife and easily blocked the tight beam. Though the trees around him lurched sideways as the earthquake slammed into their roots, the Siberian god was unmoved. Tamara couldn’t help staring as he rode the crests of swelling earth, his legs like huge pistons, absorbing each tremor. Then to her horror, he tilted the giant blade at a forty-five degree angle. Oksana’s flame was redirected to the branch above.
“Stop!” Tamara screamed, but it was too late.
The searing beam cut through the rope that held the weasel. Then it burned a blistered path across Kochon’s back, before slicing through his rope as well. Tamara and Kochon shrieked together. As Oksana collapsed, the beam evaporated. The ground went still as Tamara covered her mouth. The only sound was Kochon’s pitiable grunts as he thrashed and rubbed his back in the snow.
The Siberian god uncoiled the rope he carried. Tamara grabbed Oksana’s shoulders, never taking her eyes from Erlik. He smiled at her as he approached, twirling a lasso next to him.
“Get up,” Tamara urged Oksana, “get up!”
But Oksana wouldn’t raise her head.
Erlik had cut off escape into the dark trees. In the other direction lay the flat and battered landscape. Tamara summoned every ounce of strength in her, multiplied by primal fear.
“Earthquake!” she screamed, as she knelt and touched the snow.
The tremor was enormous, splitting the white surface, sending it mounding and buckling in every direction. The entire forest swayed as one. Oksana’s prone form was tossed to and fro. The horrendous rumble was deafening. In her peripheral vision, Tamara saw the vast flock of ravens take to the sky like a swirling, red cyclone. But Erlik’s march was unstoppable. He seemed to grow in front of her eyes, stepping over the heaving mounds of snow, unconcerned by the rippling of the earth.
As the lasso sailed toward her, Tamara understood what Oksana must have known all along. There had never been any hope of escape. It had been foolish to even try.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
SK’S EARLY TEXT message had come as a surprise. Livvy hadn’t expected them to be back from the South Bay for another hour. As she ascended the landing to Dominique’s loft, the door opened. Though Livvy had thought it’d be Dominique, instead it was SK–and she hadn’t been prepared.
“Good morning,” he said, holding the door open for her.
After their stilted phone conversation, she wouldn’t have blamed him for being stiff, but he wasn’t. Instead, he stepped toward her as though they might hug. But as her chest twinged in shame, her hand only brushed his with a spark, and she gave him a glancing kiss on the cheek.
“Good morning,” she whispered. Before he could see the guilty look on her face, she rushed by.
But nothing happened, she told herself for maybe the fiftieth time. But for the fiftieth time, it didn’t help.
The door closed behind her and the smell of solvents filled her nose. Nicole was painting and, as far as Livvy could tell, she was even standing in the exact same spot, wearing the exact same clothes. Dominique, though, was at the high counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the large room. She sat on one of the stools with a set of goggles disassembled in front of her.
As Livvy approached, Dominique shoved the parts away. “Fried,” she said. “Utterly useless.” She glared at SK. “Thanks for nothing.”
Livvy stopped and frowned. Dominique pushed back from the counter as SK came up next to Livvy.
“What happened?” Livvy asked, though it was becoming apparent. “How did the healing go?”
“Not well,” SK said.
Dominique snorted. “That’s an understatement. I’m lucky I made it back after Mr. Water Baby here blew up my goggles.”
He stood with hands in pockets, his jaw muscles working. “I’ll pay for those,” he said.
“You bet you will,” Dominique retorted.
“You lent your power,” Livvy said to him.
SK’s pale eyes met hers and he nodded. There was the tiniest furrow between his eyebrows, and his mouth was nearly a straight line. He was troubled. Without thinking, she reached out to him. Before she could stop herself, they were holding hands. The twinge in her chest turned into an ache, but she managed to keep from wincing. Brad’s face flashed into her mind until it was all she could see. When she blinked, she realized SK was staring at her.
More to the point, he had cocked his head and was looking at the pendant. “Is that new?” he asked.
She paled, her hand flying to it, pressing it hard into her chest. “It’s from Brad,” she blurted out. “He brought it from Russia.”
“It’s nice,” he said.
“I couldn’t say no!” she nearly yelled.
Livvy became acutely aware of Dominique watching them.
“Who is Brad?” Dominique asked, sounding very interested.
Livvy stared at the floor and felt her ears burning.
“A former client,” SK said, when she didn’t answer, “and a supposed shaman.”
Livvy dropped his hand. “He is a shaman,” she said hotly.
As Livvy pushed past Dominique into the living room, Dominique’s eyebrows shot up. But Livvy didn’t care. She needed some distance. It was too warm, and she was finding it hard to
get a breath. But to her chagrin, the light from the frosted windows dimmed. The entire loft fell into shadow as clouds blotted out the sun.
Gods, stop that, Livvy told herself.
She turned away from the muted light and forced herself to take a deep breath. SK had only spoken the truth. Neither of them had seen Brad work.
But Brad wouldn’t lie to me.
Livvy shook her head and tried to focus. Almost directly in front of her, Nicole was furiously painting. Dots of color were coalescing, and Livvy concentrated on them. Though Nicole’s brush darted all over the place, the movement wasn’t random. Instead, complex forms were taking shape over the entire canvas. Tension drained from Livvy’s shoulders, and the sunlight gradually returned.
With a start, Livvy realized Nicole was working on a new painting, though the subject matter remained the same. It was the surreal view of high, snow-capped mountains with a shining orb hanging in the air. The false sun was mirrored in the deeply blue lake below. Its multiple rainbow colors were tinged with blue, like the murals at the Institute, like something else Livvy had seen and couldn’t quite remember. It was…
“Time for a new plan of attack,” Dominique said.
• • • • •
If SK didn’t know better, he’d say Liv was in pain. He’d seen that same look on her face when her hip bothered her. For all he knew it was bothering her now. But he didn’t really think so. The worst part though, was she wouldn’t look at him.
Gods, what is wrong? What is this defensiveness around Brad? What did happen last night?
There was a heavy feeling in his chest.
“A new what?” Liv asked.
“Plan of attack,” Dominique said, enunciating every word.
If it’d been anyone other than Dominique, SK would have said they were joking–or insane. SK knew she was neither. Her belief in herself, however, bordered on chilling.
“I, for one, am sick of skulking in the shadows,” she said. “Take on the Siberian shamans, I say.”
“Have you seen their numbers?” SK asked.
“Are you saying you’ve been inside the Institute?” Dominique asked. She paused, turning between Liv and himself. “You’ve seen the operation? How many are there?”
“Too many,” SK said, shaking his head.
“A lot,” Liv said at the same time.
Dominique scowled at them both. “Listen to you,” she said. “The most powerful shaman in a generation is on our side, and you don’t want to fight?”
“I’m not interested in harming other shamans,” Liv said.
“Really,” Dominique said. “That’s not how I remember it.”
“Only after you attacked her,” SK interjected.
“So you want to wait?” Dominique asked. “Is that your plan? It’s not enough that little Odessa is dictating what all of Los Angeles can do? What every shaman within a hundred miles can do? You want to wait until you’re personally attacked?” Dominique spun from them and glared at Nicole’s painting. “I don’t believe this.” She looked at Nicole. “They want to wait,” she said, jerking a thumb in Liv’s direction. She spun and glared at SK. “I don’t have that luxury.” She glanced at her goggles. “Especially not after this morning.”
Liv stared at the floor and bit her lower lip. SK put his hands in his pockets. Dominique crossed her arms over her chest. Nicole kept painting.
“They have at least three full floors of shamans,” SK said.
From the little information that had come from Brad, the directory in the lobby, and the number of robed shamans they’d seen, it was a conservative estimate.
“Finally,” Dominique exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “Some numbers!”
“Vastly superior numbers,” SK said.
They glowered at each other.
“Maybe it’s not about attacking,” Liv said.
For several seconds more SK locked gazes with Dominique, but Liv had gone back to the kitchen counter. She picked up the goggles.
“It’s about making money,” Liv said, examining them.
“Damn right it is,” Dominique declared.
“And if you can’t make money?” Liv asked.
“Then what’s the point?” Dominique answered.
“Healing people,” Livvy said, as though it were obvious. “That’s the point.” She set the goggles down. “Ultimately, it’s about healing people. It always has been. But the Institute has forgotten that.”
Her attention seemed to have been caught by something on the floor. She drifted over to the canvases leaning against the wall.
“What are you thinking, Liv?” SK asked.
She bent and picked up something. It was the nkondi that Dominique had used. Like the one Ursula had made for Liv, it was a small wood statue, a couple feet high. Arms and legs were barely suggested and the entire thing was studded with nails, but it was the decorations that were important. This one imitated Liv: a small silver jacket and a tiny blonde wig. SK knew that inside the mirrored belly was a cavity that held something personal of hers.
Dominique cleared her throat uncomfortably, bringing Liv’s attention back to them.
“When shamans are distracted,” Liv explained, “they can’t heal people. If people aren’t healed–”
“They won’t pay,” Dominique said, eagerly.
“And,” SK said, catching their drift, “that’s what the Institute is all about.”
Liv nodded. “Everything is designed for the money: that building, that sign, the whole neighborhood. Their security people don’t work for free.”
“Stop the money…” SK said.
“Stop the Institute,” Dominique nearly yelled.
“But they don’t need to be harmed,” Liv cautioned, “only distracted.” She looked Dominique squarely in the eye. “It’s not about superior numbers. It’s about being smart.”
Dominique looked electrified. “Guerrilla tactics,” she hissed, her eyes bright. “It’s hit and run; appear and disappear.” She paced quickly to Nicole. “Like the old days.” She whirled back to Liv. “Hit them where it hurts the most.”
“We can find them,” Liv said, holding out the nkondi, “but can we evade them?”
Dominique shook her head, but a wolfish grin appeared. “No,” she said. “Not with that. There’s another way to do that.”
Liv and SK both waited.
Dominique nodded at her sister. “Nicole,” she said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
IN THE MIDDLEWORLD, Dominique was careful to stifle a grin. Nicole’s appearance had taken the Lightning Shaman completely by surprise. She’d jumped off the path to the lake, but now approached cautiously.
Nicole stepped forward and offered Livvy her hand. “We’ve never been introduced,” she said. “I’m Nicole.”
Livvy’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Livvy Lawson,” she said. “It’s…nice to meet you.”
Livvy glanced between the two of them, and Dominique beamed.
“I owe you my life,” Nicole said, taking Livvy’s hand in both of hers. “I won’t ever forget that.” She pulled Livvy into a gentle hug. “How’s your hip?”
“Fine…fine,” Livvy stammered.
Dominique couldn’t help but laugh. “It took me a while to get used to it,” she said.
Nicole let Livvy go and embraced Dominique, kissing her first on one cheek and then the other. “Sister,” she said, her voice calm, even reassuring. “You look well.”
Dominique hugged her back. “And you,” she said.
In the real world, Dominique had simply left a second pair of goggles running. The tactic had occurred to her not long after Nicole’s first, accidental visit to the Multiverse. Whether it was curiosity, the bright colors, or some silent call, Dominique didn’t know. But it never failed. Nicole always put on the goggles.
The change in her sister was so drastic it was disturbing. But from that first trip, Nicole had been completely in control of herself. She smiled and seemed concerned, eve
n caring–everything she wasn’t in the real world.
And the Lightning Shaman hadn’t even seen the amazing part. Nicole, though not a shaman, had a distinct Multiverse talent.
• • • • •
In the real world, SK quietly approached Nicole. Though he knew she would likely not hear him, he couldn’t quite be sure. He’d never seen a shaman do something like this. After Liv had donned goggles and entered the Multiverse, Dominique had followed, using the nkondi to track her. But before Dominique had gone, she’d left a third pair of goggles on Nicole’s paint table, already running.
No sooner had Dominique left than Nicole set her palette and brush down. Like an automaton, she’d simply exchanged one set of tools for the other. She’d donned the goggles but still stood in front of her easel. Hands at her sides and at ease, she appeared to stare at the unfinished painting. But she was gone. As surely as she was lying down, she was in the Multiverse.
SK walked quietly past Dominique. Though Nicole had seemed to take no notice, Dominique had put a low, olive drab cot near the easel. She lay on it now wearing a different set of goggles, dented and used, but at least working.
SK glanced at the burned pair on the kitchen counter. That had been unexpected. But now he had to wonder. Is that going to be the case with every shaman other than Liv?
As he came to Liv’s side, he crouched. Dominique had unrolled a yoga mat for her under the tall windows. She lay comfortably, light spilling down on her, though the dark goggles shielded her eyes. When Dominique had handed them to her, he’d gotten the distinct impression she’d been about to hand them back. The Multiverse work for Min had been extraordinary. But Liv had taken the goggles anyway and put them on. She’d turned to him, as usual, but then averted her gaze, never making eye contact.
He frowned at the memory and also the new pendant she wore.
What happened last night?
Shaman, Lover, Warrior: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Book 5) Page 13