CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
DOMINIQUE STOOD FRONT and center and faced the coming onslaught. The Siberian shamans in the distance were swarming onto the glacier. Her small crew was arrayed behind her. Without Nicole, there was only one way they could escape. They’d have to leave the Multiverse.
“Maybe she has the Stone by now,” one of the young ones said.
Dominique didn’t even turn.
“If she had it,” Wan-li said. “We would not be facing them.”
“Maybe it’s been enough time,” someone else said, her voice tinged with panic.
Dominique calmly faced them. “Go,” she said. “All of you.” The new shamans gaped at her, their drained faces now also stunned. “I’m serious,” she said. “Go.”
Ursula, Alvina, and Wan-li exchanged looks with one another.
“But–” said someone at the back.
“It’s my sister who stranded us here,” Dominique said, “and it’s me who owes Livvy.” Dominique took a moment to look each of them full in the face. “You’ve done enough, more than enough.”
Nervous looks were exchanged and some of them stared at the approaching horde behind her.
“What about you?” asked one near the front.
Dominique grinned. “I don’t know how to back down.”
Without so much as a goodbye, someone in the back simply winked out. Dominique couldn’t blame them. A few more followed.
“Good luck,” someone said.
“You should leave,” said another.
“It’s suicide,” said one of the last ones.
It might be, Dominique thought. It just might be. In moments, it was only the veterans–Livvy’s original crew.
Alvina shrugged and stepped forward, her coyote close on her heels. “Suicide? Who said anything about suicide?” she said. She gave Dominique a quick wink and squeeze of the shoulder. “Goodness me. What an awfully negative generation.”
Wan-li stood tall and crossed her arms over her chest. Her tiger sat directly in front of her. “Glory will go to the survivors,” she said with a wry smile. “Not to mention market share.”
Only Ursula hung back as she tightened the knot on her bandana. Her rooster pecked the ice around her feet. But when she stepped forward, her smile was so bright Dominique had to smile in return. “Where up is down and back is front, this battle makes perfect sense,” she said. She clapped Dominique on the arm. “Ursula feels right at home.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
THE ROTATING CLEAVER bit into the top of Livvy’s right shoulder. Had she not thought to duck as she moved left, it would have sunk into her chest. It sliced through flesh, sailed past her ear, and hit the post behind her with a ringing thwack. Livvy came to a faltering stop, off-balance from trying to evade the knife. She clutched the stinging wound and clenched her jaw. Though not deep, the cut hurt–a lot.
The man crouched across the yurt from her. His face held a new appraising look. Livvy wondered if he’d ever thrown the cleaver and missed. But there was no time to capitalize on the small win.
“Let’s dance,” he growled, as his mouth started to twitch.
His nose elongated into a snout, his eyes went small and black, and he grew. As he stood up straight, his body elongated and widened, covered with long black fur. His neck thickened. The long arms that dangled in front of his body ended in the dark, shiny claws Livvy knew all too well. The top of his massive head touched one of the rafters, and the yurt suddenly seemed crowded. His nostrils flared and his cheeks ballooned as he sniffed the air. But as he lurched forward onto all fours, his jaw unhinged, and a deafening roar shook the air.
A shot of terror flew down Livvy’s spine at the primal bellow. Staring at the gleaming white fangs, she wavered, not sure which way to go. Upon her hesitation, the bear sprang forward. Only a frenzied burst of speed kept her out of claw’s reach. But the predator had her scent. His enormous head whipped sideways, saliva flying, as the gaping maw tracked her and chomped down. Though Livvy had only moved out of instinct, she passed behind a supporting pole. The jaws clamped down on it instead of her midsection. Splinters exploded in every direction as Livvy backpedaled into something and fell over it. She landed hard on her back with a loud grunt. With one of the poles gone, the central rafters of the yurt tilted. Tamara slid to one end.
Infuriated, the bear snarled, spat, and clawed at his mouth. Livvy grabbed at what she’d fallen over–a table–and managed to drag herself to her feet just as the bear charged. There was no time to dodge. His dark eyes loomed large, and for a moment nothing else existed. She saw her own dual reflections in the black orbs: her white hair, the blood at her shoulder. Then the muzzle creased, the lips curled back, and the jaws yawned opened.
Though Livvy had no idea how the butcher-block table had gotten into her hands, she did the only thing she could–she hauled it up and shoved. Though the punishing impact threatened to break her arms, she held on. Hot breath assailed her as the corner of the heavy block wedged itself deep in the gaping maw. Though her feet skid backward, she pushed forward.
Hold on, she thought, as the bear continued to push her back. Hold on!
The wet fangs dug deep grooves in the table’s top and side, and still Livvy shoved. But without warning, she collided with the metal pot. It smashed painfully into her lower back, and she tipped. Steam from the bubbling, scalding liquid rose all around her. She had no leverage. She bent back as far as she could. She held onto the table as much to keep from falling as to keep the bear at bay. Her attacker sensed it and reared up with a ferocious growl. She was going to fall in.
“No!” Livvy breathed.
With a desperate twist, she squirmed sideways and let the table go. The wood plunged into the boiling cauldron and the bear plowed forward. The entire pot upended. Embers from the fire soared upward, and the burning logs scattered. Livvy dove into her headlong fall. Panting, she couldn’t help but cry out as she rolled on the claw marks. But in a split second, she was on her feet.
With its back to her, the bear viciously shook its head from side to side, but the table in its jaws was stuck. Livvy took a moment to catch her breath.
That was too close.
She had to get this fight outside. To call lightning down here would mean Tamara’s death. Thunder crashed just beyond the door to her left, and lightning flashed furiously. But to her shock, Livvy saw the Stone of Alatyr lying on the floor. The bear had knocked it from the stump.
The heavy block table crashed onto the toppled cauldron. The bear had become a man again, and he was turning to face her. Livvy didn’t wait. She surged for the yurt opening and toward the stone. As she passed it in a blur, she bent low and picked it up–and careened into the floor.
The vivid yellow lines of the magnetic field swirled around her. She bounced off the carpet as the glowing, green rock rolled away, but the damage was done. Vertigo swept over her. The Multiverse tilted and swayed like a roller coaster. Though she struggled to her feet, she couldn’t keep her balance. Flames were rising along one side of the tent. She couldn’t see the door. Instead, a hulking figure loomed in front of her, and a giant fist sailed in from the right.
The blow caught her in the ribs, and she jackknifed around it. The air left her lungs in a harsh grunt. The room spun and wobbled and she’d just been about to fall when he grabbed her hair and yanked her up. Though she reached up to his hand, she never got the chance to grab it. He pummeled the claw marks again and let her go. By the time she hit the ground, there was no air left. The side of her face ground into the wet rug. The unbelievable pain sapped every last bit of energy she had. Her arms quivered with the need to hold her side, but she couldn’t manage it. Nausea engulfed her. It was all she could do to draw in one labored breath and then another. A giant leather boot pushed her left shoulder back to the ground and stood on it. Livvy could barely keep her eyes open.
“And they say not to play with your food,” the man said.
Brightening firelight lit the
side of his face. With an almost lecherous smile, he showed her his bloody fist. Then he lifted it to his lips, his eyes locked with hers, and he licked his knuckles. A shudder of revulsion moved up Livvy’s spine, but she couldn’t look away. Her blood coated his mustache. As she watched, his mouth stretched quickly into a bear’s muzzle, then just as quickly turned back into a mouth. For a moment, his ears had turned furry and laid back along his skull. But as he finished savoring the last drop of her blood, he was fully human and nodded approvingly.
“Very tasty,” he growled. “You’ve made me hungry.”
He reached down a giant hand and picked her up by the neck as though she weighed nothing. The stretch was excruciating. Any second she would hear the vertebrae snap. Her breath was reduced to a nearly inaudible whistle.
“Yes,” he said, lifting her high and holding her at arm’s distance. “Not a lot of meat, but I wager you will be sweet.”
He swung her toward the toppled cauldron. Flames had raced up the sides of nearly half the yurt, and the wood posts were charring. But he didn’t seem to care.
Up above, Tamara was sobbing wildly. She tugged frantically at the bindings. Beyond her in the clouds, the lightning they desperately needed was beyond reach.
Was Tamara telling her to use it? To call it down despite what that meant?
The man’s heavy footsteps slopped through the rug, wet with what had been in the cauldron. Livvy knew without looking at the spilled contents what it had contained. But as the lightning blazed outside and Tamara continued to struggle, a thought flashed into Livvy’s mind. She rolled her eyes to the soaked floor.
They’d reached the other side of the burning yurt. Livvy heard the metal tang of the cleaver as he removed it from the post. Tamara’s sob turned into a piteous and halting whimper. Though Livvy couldn’t see it, she knew what must be coming. She also knew what had to be done. Heat built in her chest. With a rasping, croaking wheeze, she drew in a tiny bit of air. The sound made the man look up. Livvy stared hard and unblinking into his eyes.
“Lightning,” she whispered.
The tent lit up as though a thousand floodlights had been turned on outside. But no lightning came down inside. No electricity so much as sparked. Silence crashed down on them instead, inside the yurt and out. No one made a move. Though the man had glanced at the brilliant light from the door, a smile now grew on his face, and he looked triumphantly into her eyes.
Though he looked like he would say something, he never got the chance. Lightning raced along the wet floor in a rapidly closing circle. He never knew what hit him. As though he were made of glass, his entire body lit up. The electricity surged into Livvy at her throat. She vibrated because he did, but she let the energy flow. It poured down from the sky, fell all around the yurt, and flowed up the only path it could find: the man’s soggy feet. His skin glowed clear and–to Livvy’s disbelief–his skeleton shone through it. But as she watched, the skeleton morphed from human into bear and then back again. It flashed from one to the other as though he couldn’t decide. But when the lightning died, he was neither and he was both.
When he finally let Livvy go, she landed on her feet, stumbled back, and sat down hard. The half-man, half-beast, stiff and straight as a board, leaned back and fell smoking to the floor.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
MAMACITA ARRIVED AT the stairs just as the last shaman was leaving. Though Mamacita didn’t know what the sidelong sheepish look was about, she couldn’t imagine it’d be good. She pounded up the metal stairs. Inside, it was worse than she’d feared.
“No,” she whispered.
Only Ursula, Wan-li, Alvina, and Dominique remained–and Nicole.
“Nicole,” Mamacita said.
The young woman’s goggles lay on the floor next to her, still running, but Nicole took no notice of them.
“Oh no, baby,” Mamacita said quietly.
She stepped around the front of the room, careful not to tread on network lines, moving past Dominique, the network box, and the nkondi.
Nicole was painting. She dabbed paint frantically, palette to canvas, over and over, breathing hard. But as Mamacita looked at the painting, she gasped. It was a mess. White dots were sprinkled throughout the image of red. Nicole wasn’t even looking at it. She was staring at the palette as her hand flashed back and forth.
Mamacita shook her head.
That can’t be right.
“Here, honey,” she whispered. “You just take a minute.” She placed her hand on Nicole’s forearm as it darted forward. Nicole froze. “That’s it,” Mamacita crooned soothingly. “Just like that. You take a minute and just relax.”
Nicole stiffly bent her neck and peered down at Mamacita’s hand. Her lips parted. She cocked her head and then she raised her gaze.
“Well, hello there,” Mamacita said smiling.
Nicole moved her lips, but no sound came out.
“I know,” Mamacita said, rubbing Nicole’s arm. “I know, honey.”
Mamacita was aware of the labored breathing from the rest of the room. Something in the Multiverse had gone wrong, and Mamacita could guess what it was. Nicole’s goggles lay on the other side of her, out of reach if Mamacita were to remain in contact. And of all things going on right now, it was the one thing of which Mamacita was sure: she needed to stay in contact with Nicole. Tears had come to Nicole’s eyes. One fell, cresting her cheek and falling past the corner of her mouth. And then another.
“Oh no, honey,” Mamacita said. “There’s no need for that.” She stepped closer to Nicole and put her free hand on Nicole’s hand, the one that held the brush. “Mamacita’s here.” She moved it gently toward the canvas. “Here we go now.” As the tip of the brush touched the canvas, Nicole’s eyes and mouth snapped shut and she froze. Her breathing quieted and her face relaxed, as did that of Dominique’s. Mamacita didn’t move but she smiled to herself.
“Mmm hmm,” she said.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
LIVVY SUCKED AIR into her lungs at a furious rate and didn’t know whether to grab her side or her throat. But the muffled cough up above didn’t permit either. The tilted rafter where Tamara was tied was on fire. Most of the fabric of the yurt had burned away, and now Livvy could see the destruction she’d unleashed outside. Charred red ravens covered the snow. Blanca bounded in under the burning cloth. She was covered in blood and feathers. Though Livvy wanted to make sure she was all right, there was no time. Instead, she grabbed the scruff of Blanca’s neck and pulled herself to a standing position.
“Blanca,” she said, between breaths. “Tamara.”
After a brief glance up, the great cat blurred across the yurt, jumped atop the fallen cauldron, leapt up to the nearest post, and bounced off it up to a rafter. Backlit by the burning roof, she tightrope walked the angled beam up to the center. She paused briefly over the top of Tamara and gave the rafter there a single, long swipe of her paw. Tamara’s legs and arms splayed out wide and she fell. As Blanca leapt down, the burning beams of the entire structure groaned.
“Tamara!” Livvy yelled. “Grab that stone!”
Though Tamara was uncoordinated and moved stiffly, she managed to get up. As she staggered to the Stone, Livvy clutched her aching side but bent and grabbed one of the small rugs. The groaning of the structure turned to creaking, and burning chunks of fabric and wood rained down.
“Get out!” Livvy yelled.
She and Blanca surged to Tamara’s side. Though Tamara had the Stone and was on her way out, Livvy helped her along, nearly lifting her as she ran. Though the yurt crashed loudly to the ground behind them, Livvy didn’t pause. They had to get back to the lake.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
SK STARED DOWN at the mix of amniotic fluid and blood. A little blood was normal. But this wasn’t a little. Before SK could stop him, Colin had joined him at Min’s knees.
“Min,” SK said. Her eyes were shut, and she was holding her breath. “Min!” Her eyes popped open. “Don’t push! I know you want to, bu
t you can’t.” She shook her head and sucked in a huge lungful of air. “Pant!” SK urged her. “Control your breathing!”
“SK,” Colin said, his voice high and spiraling higher. “Why is there so much–”
“I don’t know,” SK said, cutting him off.
Colin had knelt in the blood. He was breathing through his mouth, his eyes wide, trying to wipe the blood from his hands.
“Min,” SK said, looking at her over her knees. Thunder crashed outside the window. “I’m going to check your dilation.” He lifted the hem of her nightgown.
Oh my god. The baby is crowning. He lowered the drenched fabric.
“Towels,” SK said, but Colin continued to stare at his hands. “Towels!” SK yelled, shoving him. Colin nearly toppled over. “As many as you can find! Hurry!” SK pointed. “In the bedroom. Now!” Colin finally seemed to hear him. “The bedroom,” SK repeated.
Colin lurched to his feet, leaned into the wall, and left a bloody handprint on it. He staggered to the bedroom.
“Min,” SK said. “You’re doing fine. You’re–”
Her knees flopped open. One of her legs straightened out.
“Min?” he said. “Min?”
Her hands no longer clung to her stomach. They lay limp at her sides. Her eyes were closed and her jaw was slack. Her chest wasn’t moving.
“No!” he said, scrambling to her side. He pressed wet fingers to her neck. “Gods, no!” SK whimpered. “Please, no!” Frantically he shifted his fingers, one way and then the other. He had to be on the jugular.
No pulse.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
IT WAS PROBABLY an illusion but Dominique could have sworn she felt the glacier begin to quake. The stampeding feet of the approaching shamans was getting louder by the second. Ursula, Alvina, and Wan-li stood side-by-side next to her. If they were supposed to have served as a distraction, they’d succeeded.
Shaman, Lover, Warrior: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Book 5) Page 26