Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Books 1 -3

by Green, M. Terry

  Dominique remembered the quizzical look on her face.

  She snorted.

  Pip looked at her, puzzled.

  “Never mind,” said Dominique, waving her off. No time for this.

  She stood, took off her leather duster, and tossed it into a nearby chair.

  “Phase one complete,” she said.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IN THE REAL world, Livvy sat bolt upright and yanked off the goggles.

  “Whoa,” said SK. “Not so fast.”

  She quickly turned them over in her hands, examining the front of the lenses and the small jack that would accept a network connection. No, they were not networked. She had known that, of course, but what other explanation could there be for what she had seen?

  “Is there a problem?” asked SK.

  She jerked her gaze over to his worried face. “No,” she said quickly.

  He sat quietly and waited, an open water bottle in his outstretched hand. She took the bottle and started to drink.

  “Another long one,” he said.

  She finished drinking the entire bottle. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Another one.”

  She knew SK must suspect something, but there was no way she could explain what she was doing. She didn’t want to keep secrets from him. In fact, she hated it, but no one could know. Especially SK.

  Did that shaman in the Underworld have something to do with her secret? How in the Multiverse had they been able to see each other?

  And she knew who I was.

  She was aware SK was watching her, and she didn’t dare meet his eyes yet. Instead, she looked up at Fletcher in his bed. He seemed to be taking a nap.

  “He’s going to be fine,” she said.

  “There was never a doubt,” said SK, standing up. He kicked out his short legs, a little stiff from sitting.

  Because SK was a dwarf, Livvy only saw him from this angle at moments like this. She turned and looked up into his face. His ensemble today was a deep forest green. Lately, he had also added a solid-colored tie to his tailored suits. Livvy had decided it was probably due to all the media attention, but the formal look worked well for him.

  He tilted his head toward the wall with the scorch marks, motioning with his eyebrows. She looked over. A dark brown discoloration surrounded two rectangular holes near the bottom of the wall. Livvy saw the electrical outlets lying on the floor where they’d landed. Brown burn marks emanated from the holes and reached toward one another. Livvy’s eyes widened.

  “Me?” she asked.

  He nodded as he tightened up his necktie.

  Scorch marks? That was a new one.

  These days, SK had the clients sign a waiver in case of damage. Generally, it amounted to burned out light bulbs or melted electrical sockets.

  “I don’t understand,” said Livvy, as she slowly got up. “I was totally in control on this one.”

  SK immediately came over to help her with a steadying hand. Her recovery time had improved quite a bit over the past year. Most of the time a bottle of water and a few minutes did it. As she stood upright, though, a flash of pain in her temples made her suck in a breath and duck her head.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Headache,” she hissed. She massaged both sides of her forehead.

  “Let me get some aspirin,” said SK.

  Livvy nodded a little and leaned against the bed. She carried them for the client’s family, along with tissues, in her shoulder bag. SK found the aspirin and shook out a couple of tablets. Then he opened a new bottle of water.

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  She quickly downed them and finished the second bottle. SK glanced at the door.

  “They can come in,” said Livvy, standing up straight.

  “They can wait a little longer,” he said, frowning a little and searching her face.

  “Really SK, I’m fine, just a little headache. I’m sure they’re anxious.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m feeling better already,” she replied and it was true. Maybe it had been the second bottle of water but she was definitely feeling much less pain.

  “All right then,” he said and went over to the door.

  He opened it and stood aside.

  First through was Fletcher’s young wife, Simone. Her worried look didn’t detract from her supermodel good looks. Tastefully accessorized and coiffed, wearing makeup that didn’t look like makeup, it didn’t hurt that she actually was a supermodel. She went immediately to Fletcher’s side. As Livvy rolled up her mat, the adult children came through as well, two men in their mid-to-late fifties. One wore a polo shirt and looked as though he’d just stepped off a yacht while the other wore an understated business suit. Their expressions, which reminded Livvy so much of Fletcher, said they weren’t quite sure what to expect.

  “How is he?” asked Simone, taking one of his hands.

  “He’s going to be fine,” said Livvy as she handed the mat to SK. “It was definitely a case of bad energy from the new liver.”

  “Really,” said the son who had come in first, without an ounce of mockery.

  In fact, Livvy couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard someone disparage shamanism. Fletcher’s private nurse came in and started to take his vitals. When Livvy spoke, they all turned to listen.

  “There’ll be nothing noticeable in his appearance or behavior for a while. I wouldn’t look for anything to change for at least a day as the liver gets used to its new environment.”

  The nurse nodded and returned to measuring his pulse.

  “Thank you, Miss Lawson,” said the second son. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate this.” He looked at SK. “We’ve already transferred the money to your account.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mosely,” said SK, inclining his head.

  Livvy sniffed a little. First a headache, now a sniffle? She wasn’t prone to either. Maybe she was coming down with a cold. She bent down to retrieve her bag and saw a red drop appear next to it on the white Berber carpet. She quickly put a finger to her nose. It was bleeding. Before anybody came around to her side of the bed, she took out a couple of tissues, wiped the carpet, and wiped her nose. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a bloody nose. Maybe when she was a kid? Although Fletcher’s family hadn’t seen what happened, SK had. She stowed the tissues in her bag.

  “I think we’ll be going then,” he said smoothly.

  “Oh, of course,” said Simone, coming around the bed. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

  SK held the door for Livvy as Simone approached her with her hand extended. Livvy lightly grasped it as a bright blue spark jumped between them. Rather than appearing surprised, Simone seemed pleased.

  “Thank you, Miss Lawson,” she said.

  “I’m glad I could help,” Livvy replied.

  “Best of luck to you,” said SK as he ushered Livvy out. “And regards to Fletcher.”

  In the cavernous and high-ceilinged living room, a few dozen of Fletcher’s closest friends quietly milled and waited. The sunken floor and two-story windows gave it the feeling of a cathedral. Dressed formally, the various couples and small groups gave the impression that a wake had yet to begin, except that no one held a drink. A hush came over the various conversations as Livvy and SK entered. Min immediately stood and came over.

  Soo Min and Livvy had been friends since their early days as shamans, although they had kept it secret back then. They had broken centuries of prohibitions that dictated shamans be kept apart out of fear for their awesome powers. But after Livvy had networked goggles together and managed to work with other shamans in the Multiverse to defeat an ancient god of Sumer, many of the old traditions had fallen away. Not only were they friends, Min was now her personal assistant. She dressed in her usual long, black velvet shaman robes and black boots, an ornate jade choker at her neck–a complete contrast to Livvy.

  Livvy wore a double-breasted, full-length coat of linen that shimmered with real silver th
read. Underneath, white leggings blended into a formfitting knit top with a V neckline that paralleled the V of the buttoned jacket. Below, where the linen coat flared open, she wore knee-high white boots. The only splash of color came from her amethyst pendant.

  “Several people have asked for a blessing,” Min said quietly.

  “I’m not sure Livvy’s really up to it today,” SK whispered quickly.

  “Oh?” said Min, looking concerned and examining Livvy’s face.

  “Just a little headache,” Livvy whispered.

  “And a bloody nose,” insisted SK but careful to keep his voice low.

  Min scowled a bit as Livvy glanced at the crowd. Although all the faces in the room were turned toward them, everyone kept a respectful distance.

  “I’m fine,” Livvy said. “It’ll just take a minute. They’ve been waiting.”

  SK frowned and looked at the crowd. “Let’s make it quick then,” he said to Min.

  Min nodded and turned toward the crowd. It had taken her months to get over her shyness, but she finally seemed at ease dealing with people. Once she had relaxed, they seemed to respond to her naturally. Although her high-pitched voice would never have a commanding ring to it, it had acquired an air of authority.

  “All right, everybody, if I could have you line up, the Lightning Shaman will greet you as she leaves.” She smiled and motioned toward the front door. “We’ll start the line here.”

  The crowd promptly organized themselves, moving around the areas of large furniture and past the grand piano. Min went to the end of the line, furthest from the door, followed by Livvy and SK, and then glanced back at Livvy.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” said Min, smiling as though for a photograph.

  SK managed a small smile as well. Sandwiched between them as they made their way down the line, Livvy looked at the first person she would greet. The young woman seemed overcome with emotion, her eyes glistening and her smile radiant. Livvy couldn’t help but smile in return.

  “Olivia,” breathed the woman, like a prayer, and bowed her head.

  Livvy reached out her hand and a small spark jumped out to the woman’s hair.

  Each one in turn either bowed their head or extended their hand. Some said her name, some said ‘lightning shaman.’ To each one, Livvy imparted a spark. Occasionally, someone would touch SK as he passed. Early on, people had requested lockets of Livvy’s blindingly white hair. Although she had been born a blond, her hair had become white immediately after her vision quest, the first encounter with her spirit helper. Although she had unwittingly obliged the first few requests, she quickly realized it was something she couldn’t keep doing.

  Near the front door, one woman extended her hand and looked longingly into Livvy’s eyes. “Please, Lightning Shaman,” she said. “I have a daughter who needs your help.”

  Min took a step backward and smoothly interceded.

  “I’ve taken all her information,” Min said, nodding to the woman and smiling gently. “I assure you, we’ll be in touch.”

  “Of course, of course,” said the woman bowing.

  Livvy reached out and touched the woman’s hair with a spark. Finally, they were at the front door but the worst was yet to come.

  “Ready?” asked Min over her shoulder.

  “Never,” said Livvy.

  SK smirked.

  “Right,” said Min.

  She opened the double doors of the grand entry to the sound of whirring cameras and a barrage of flashing lights.

  “Livvy!” Came the calls from the assembled photographers. “Livvy, just a quick look!”

  The attention of the media was a recent development that Livvy didn’t particularly welcome. It spoke well for shamanism, SK had said. It helped shamans everywhere. For that reason she did her best to be responsive to them, although what she really wanted to do was run.

  “The car is this way,” Min said into Livvy’s ear, pointing past the crowd.

  The sound of cameras whirring and clicking jumped a notch. Livvy nodded.

  “How did it go today?” yelled someone. “How is Fletcher Mosely?”

  “He’s going to be fine,” yelled SK as he kept Livvy moving forward behind Min.

  “Just a touch,” said one man, who didn’t have a camera as he reached out his hand to Livvy, jostling for position with the photographers.

  Livvy quickly reached out to him as they passed and a spark popped between their hands. Again, the cameras mass-clicked and the flashes fired furiously. Finally, they were at the curb. Min held the back door open.

  The Porsche Panamera was silver, but the windows were tinted an impenetrable black. Livvy quickly ducked in, sliding easily on the leather, followed by SK. Min immediately shut the door and moved around to the driver’s side. The sudden quiet was interrupted when her door opened and she got in.

  “Where to next?” someone asked.

  “The Multiverse,” said Min, with a mischievous grin, then she shut the door and started the engine.

  Livvy slumped down in the back seat and exhaled. “It’s worse than the black lake,” she murmured.

  SK laughed a little.

  The black lake was the passageway between the Middleworld and the Underworld. Although he’d never seen it, Livvy knew he had heard plenty of shamans complain about it. Cold and inky black, shamans had to submerge beneath it in the Middleworld to emerge from the fountain in the Underworld.

  As Min carefully pulled away from the curb, the crowd finally faded behind them. With the spots of the camera flashes still floating in her eyes, Livvy recalled the healing. She secretly touched the small cache of objects in her inner jacket pocket and pretended to look out the window.

  Who had that other shaman been? She had addressed her as the lightning shaman. She knew Livvy, though that was no surprise given all the media attention. But how had she appeared with her in the Multiverse without their goggles being networked?

  “Are you okay?” asked SK.

  Startled, Livvy looked over to him. “Yeah, I’m good,” she said, a bit too quickly.

  She saw Min glancing at her in the rear view mirror.

  “I’m fine. Why?”

  “You were just kind of quiet,” he said.

  “Just that headache,” she lied. “It’s almost gone.”

  “All right,” he said, watching her for a few more seconds. He took out his phone. “Before I forget.” He punched a couple of buttons and then held it to his mouth. “Fire extinguisher,” he said, enunciating.

  “Did you say ‘fire extinguisher’?” asked Min.

  Livvy thought of the scorch marks on the walls of Fletcher’s bedroom.

  “Yes,” said SK, putting the phone away. “A new addition to our work kit.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DOMINIQUE THUMPED ON the door three times, waited a few seconds, then thumped again. She repeated the pattern until she heard the deadbolt and then the knob being unlocked. The door opened just enough for the chain to be taut.

  A heavyset, middle-aged black woman with short-cropped hair, a round face, and big hoop earrings to match appeared in the gap, her face angry and then surprised.

  “Are you crazy, woman? Comin’ here like this?” said Tamara in a Haitian accent.

  “Open the door, Tambourine,” Dominique ordered. She snapped her fingers twice. “Make it quick.”

  The woman closed the door then opened it all the way. She stood to the side and Dominique entered.

  The dingy little flat was barely furnished, but various piles of trash helped to fill up the space. Dominique recognized the Papa Legba statue, with its straw hat and cane. Originally from West Africa, he was a vodun spirit who had crossed the Atlantic and been incorporated into the traditional religion of Haiti. A simple offering of cooked rice on a piece of tinfoil lay at his feet.

  Like Tamara, Dominique had fled Haiti for a better life and brought her shamanism with her. Unlike Tamara, Dominique was of mostly French descent, though the light caramel coloring
of her skin hinted at something more than French. Also unlike Tamara, and most importantly, Dominique had been in Los Angeles for years and had worked hard to eliminate her accent and blend in. Tamara was a recent arrival, fleeing the devastation of the earthquake and still an outsider.

  “Afraid to be seen with me?” Dominique asked.

  Tamara shut the door and locked it. “You know the rules,” she said, glumly. “And my name is Tamara not Tambourine. I do not like Tambourine.”

  Which is exactly why I do it.

  Of all the shamans that she used, Tambourine was her least favorite–a vivid and unwelcome reminder of the past.

  “Well,” said Dominique, fishing inside the pocket of her leather duster. “What you like hardly concerns me. And the rules?” She took out a small plastic packet of pills and white powder and tossed it at the woman. “The rules are changing.”

  Tamara made a futile grab as it flitted erratically through the air. It landed on the ground between them. Tamara quickly bent down to retrieve it, but Dominique stepped forward, planted her heel on the ground, and hovered the front of her boot over it. “Not so fast,” she said.

  Tamara slowly straightened up.

  Dominique recognized the tense pinch of the mouth and the darting eyes as Tamara tried to look at her but couldn’t help staring at the drugs. She needed her fix. Like many shamans who had learned their profession before the advent of goggles, Tamara had entered the Multiverse with the use of drugs.

  Dominique had also used drugs in the beginning, since techno-shaman goggles in Haiti were almost unknown, but some shamans slipped into drug use even when they didn’t need them for the Multiverse. Tamara was one of these.

  “I’m putting together a network,” Dominique said. “You’ll be in it.”

  “What ‘network’?” said Tamara glowering, her attention finally on Dominique.

  “I mean a network of techno-shamans,” replied Dominique, impatient. “With goggles hooked together.”

  Tamara shook her head quickly. “Nobody does that. Not since–”

  “I know,” said Dominique.