There was a brief silence.
“Why do such a thing?”
“I didn’t invite questions,” Dominique snapped. “I’m not asking for your opinion either. You’ll report to this address on Friday and you’ll keep it to yourself.”
She handed Tamara a small slip of paper.
Tamara’s forehead furrowed deeply. Then she shook her head but with less conviction. “I do not–”
Dominique began to lower the boot.
“No!” said Tamara, gesturing for Dominique to stop. “Wait.” She licked her dry lips and stared at the packet. Then she glanced at the slip of paper.
This is taking too long.
Dominique slammed the toe of her boot down and crushed the pills.
“No!” wailed Tamara, lurching forward. Nearly doubled over, her hands stopped just short of the boot.
Dominique ground the packet slowly and turned toward the door.
“Friday,” she said over her shoulder. “There’ll be plenty of that,” she motioned to the packet that Tamara had retrieved and was opening.
Dominique unlocked the door and stepped out. It closed immediately and the locks clicked into place behind her.
Doesn’t want to be seen with me? Fine.
That would change soon enough.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE WEATHER WASN’T right.
Livvy gazed up at the dark sky. When was the last time they’d had a truly sunny day?
The tinted windows in the back of the sedan acted more like mirrors than glass, especially on a day like today. Even though she lived on the Westside now, to be centrally located for clients all around L.A., her location change didn’t really explain the lack of sun. El Niño, the cyclical weather pattern brought about by changing temperatures in the Pacific Ocean, was being blamed for it. Even for an El Niño year, this amount of rain and cloudy weather was unusual.
As they sat in traffic, Livvy tried to recall the last bright day. Although the clouds sometimes made for spectacular sunsets, the middle of the day was often gray. She had never been a morning person. Maybe a fabulous sunrise was something people on the east coast enjoyed.
Her eyes unfocused and SK’s reflection came into view. He was wearing his hair the same as he always did, with a bit of tufted texture on top, but he’d added a small, thin beard at the line of his jaw. Livvy thought it suited him. It highlighted his mouth a little more. She watched his reflection. He was typing something on his phone, as usual. He had never been so busy. In fact, none of them had ever been so busy. Lately, the three of them were almost always together.
In reaction to something he was reading, he smiled a little to himself. Livvy smiled too. She watched the curve of his lips slowly fade and wondered what it’d be like to kiss them.
She suddenly sat up and looked straight ahead at the back of Min’s head. That was the second time she’d wondered that in as many weeks. Her face flushed hot, and she stared down into her lap.
“Is something the matter?” he asked.
Oh no, he’s noticed.
Min was looking at her in the rear view mirror. “Your face is red,” she said.
Thanks.
“Do you want more air conditioning?” Min asked.
“No, I’m fine,” Livvy replied.
All of a sudden, the ride home in rush hour was taking forever.
There was silence again, but SK put his phone away.
Livvy felt her heart racing and realized her hands were sweaty too.
Good grief. It’s like high school.
Her feelings for SK had steadily grown over the last few months. From the time they’d met, he had been her mentor, the first one who had believed in her ability. She had looked to him not only for work but also approval. If not for him, she and the other shamans who had networked with her would never have defeated Tiamat–the Sumerian monster of the Underworld. She owed SK everything.
From time to time, she thought maybe he felt something for her as well, but he had never said anything.
It was only natural, she had told herself. People who worked together, who spent a lot of time together, to the exclusion of others…well, sometimes they ended up together. She had questioned whether that’s all it was.
Somehow in the last few months, though, he had seemed more accessible and less remote. Maybe it was her newfound notoriety. Or maybe it was how well they worked together.
Or maybe, I’m just getting to know him better–except for his name.
‘SK’ was the only thing she’d ever heard him or anybody else say. Even when she’d asked him point-blank his only reply had been to smile and say, ‘It’s SK.’
Livvy looked out the window, careful not to look at his reflection, and sighed. She had wanted to say something about her feelings for weeks, but the moment never seemed right.
Face it. You’re nervous.
Actually, chicken was more like it.
Her private doings in the Multiverse didn’t help. Afraid that she might accidentally let something slip, she had become more quiet than usual.
Well, maybe that would be changing.
CHAPTER SIX
THE LITTLE BELL at the top of the door tinkled its melodic greeting as Livvy came through, folding her umbrella. The familiar smell of a hundred types of incense and candles mixed together and surrounded her. She paused, inhaled deeply, and then slowly exhaled, as though she were leaving the worries of the world behind her. Tonight the smell of sandalwood seemed the strongest. She smiled as the bell tinkled again and the door closed behind her. She stowed the umbrella in the receptacle next to the door and was careful to wipe her feet on the colorful mat.
Wouldn’t want to slip on the terra cotta tile.
It had taken her, SK, and Min a solid hour to sort through all the business at the end of the day but she was finally here. Something about Mamacita’s place felt like home, even with the recent expansions. Livvy passed the aisles of shelves with their strange combination of New Age paraphernalia, electronics, and religious icons, into the new area with racks of velvet robes. At the far end of the store stood the massive book, CD and DVD collection. Mamacita had expanded the store twice in the last year to accommodate all the new business–business caused by Livvy.
As word of her, her friends, and what they had accomplished, spread through the shaman and non-shaman world, Mamacita’s place had become the navel of the universe for every shaman and wanna-be in the western hemisphere–and then some.
“Livvy, honey,” said Mamacita.
Livvy turned to see her emerging from one of the aisles of clothing, a robe in one hand and a duster in the other, a big smile on her face, her plump arms flung open. She wore a dark blue, one-piece dress that had a square neckline bordered with bright embroidery. Over that she wore a matching blue cardigan sweater, buttoned at the top. At the billowing bottom of the dress, the complicated stitching was repeated. When the weather had started to turn chilly, she had taken to wearing thick gray socks inside sheepskin slippers. A small blue spark jumped between them as they hugged. Livvy closed her eyes and held her tightly for a few moments.
“Mamacita,” she whispered.
“Well I just never know when to expect you anymore,” said Mamacita.
Livvy gently let her go and grinned down at her.
Her round face seemed a little more round of late but time never seemed to touch her. Her dark hair was pulled back under a large, flat barrette. Her shop had been legendary among shamans even before Livvy, rumored to have been in the same location for sixty years. Now with the lightning shaman a regular customer, it was famous.
“And I just always expect you to be here,” replied Livvy. “Don’t you ever go home?”
Mamacita chuckled. “And miss a visit from the Lightning Shaman?” she said, moving toward the back of the shop. “You know, a couple young ones waited for hours earlier today, hoping to catch a glimpse.”
“Really,” said Livvy following Mamacita.
“Really,” repl
ied Mamacita, shelving the duster behind the counter.
“Really,” squawked Pete, Mamacita’s pet cockatiel.
Livvy glanced around but the shop was empty. She breathed a sigh of relief. People trying to meet her, like the media attention, was an unexpected and unwelcome consequence of defeating Tiamat. At first, Livvy had been surprised, then flattered–then followed, hounded and even stalked. She adored seeing Mamacita, but it had become more and more difficult.
Livvy took a peanut from the bowl and unshelled it. She tossed the nuts into Pete’s cage, and he responded with, “Thank you,” before descending on them.
Mamacita settled down on her stool behind the massive counter. “What brings you here this time of night?”
“Oh, maybe another book and just to say hi.”
“You’re turning into my best customer lately,” said Mamacita, cracking open a peanut.
There had been a time, not long ago, when Livvy had been far from Mamacita’s best customer. She had been Mamacita’s favorite charity case. Now, it was Livvy’s turn to give and it was nice.
The bell at the front door tinkled.
“Maybe I’ll just…” Livvy whispered, tilting her head toward the books.
“Sure, honey,” nodded Mamacita, with a wink. “You just take your time.”
Livvy quickly and gratefully ducked into the book section. That was lucky. She was sure Mamacita was going to ask what kind of book she wanted, and Livvy was tired of lying to her. Actually, she was sick of it. The sooner things were back to normal, the better.
Mamacita’s melodic voice drifted in from the background along with the gentle rattling of a rain stick, probably being tested by a customer. Livvy ran her fingers over the spines of the books on the shelf in front of her and then crouched down low to examine the books on the bottom shelf.
I have to be missing something, some important piece of the puzzle, some last little detail. But what?
It wasn’t easy to find information on this topic. In fact, it was next to impossible. She’d already bought all of the books that had seemed like good candidates–mostly dry academic treatises from cultural studies that touched on different indigenous peoples throughout the world. The books that were left would only have a mention, if that. The title of one caught her eye. She glanced behind her to make sure no one was looking. Mamacita was still busy with her customer.
Livvy immediately flipped to the index and ran her finger down it. There were a couple of references here. She heard the bell at the door chime and no more conversation. The customer must have left.
As she stood, she randomly picked out a couple more books. As usual, she tried to mask her true purchase with other items. A small statue of Ganesha, the Hindu elephant god, caught her eye on a nearby display table, and she picked that up too before taking the entire lot to the counter. Mamacita was already there. She picked up the half-circle reading glasses that hung from a beaded chain around her neck. Perching them on her nose, she looked down at the books, turning them around to see their titles.
“You’re turning into quite the student,” she intoned.
Livvy felt her face starting to flush. She absently picked up a peanut and cracked it open. Pete came down in his cage in anticipation.
“And Ganesha,” Mamacita said, tapping his little elephant head. “Always popular.”
Livvy popped the peanut in her mouth as Mamacita looked up and lowered her glasses.
“Shall I put it on your tab?”
“That’d be great,” Livvy said around the peanut.
She resisted the urge to spit it out. She didn’t like peanuts. It’s not that she was allergic but the taste was just revolting. She quickly plucked another from the bowl, shelled it, and tossed it to Pete, who was still waiting.
“Thank you!” he squawked.
Mamacita took a plastic bag from under the counter and put the books inside. She wrapped Ganesha in some tissue paper and placed him inside too.
“Well,” said Mamacita, holding out the handles of the bag. “I don’t suppose you’ll stay for tea.”
“I can’t,” said Livvy, finally swallowing the peanut.
“I’m sure you’re busy as ten shamans put together,” nodded Mamacita with a smile. “I’m happy for you, honey.”
Livvy knew her face must be glowing by now and could barely look at Mamacita. Then something occurred to her. “Mamacita, can I ask you a question?”
“Oh you sound so serious. Goodness. You can ask me anything, child.”
Livvy hesitated but then decided to plunge ahead. “Do you know SK’s real name?”
Mamacita chuckled, a quiet bubbly sound that put Livvy at ease. “It’s SK.”
Livvy arched her eyebrows. “Seriously. That’s it? Just SK?”
“Mmm hmm,” Mamacita said, nodding.
Same answer that SK had given her.
“Okay,” Livvy said, a bit deflated.
Who would name their kid SK? What kind of name is that?
She shrugged and smiled and then came around the counter. She remembered to touch Mamacita on the sleeve first to discharge the spark, then hugged her.
“Thanks, Mamacita.”
“Don’t be a stranger,” Mamacita replied. “You hear?” she said, emphasizing the last with a squeeze. “And stay out of trouble.”
“Promise,” said Livvy, with an imperceptible sigh.
It was a promise she wouldn’t be able to keep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“THAT’S THE LAST one, Ursula,” said Tony, drawing the door closed behind him.
“The last one?” Ursula thought.
She checked the clock. It was barely nine.
“Humph!” she said, sitting down. Business had never been so bad.
“Damn earthquake,” she muttered.
Watts had been seeing a small but steady trickle of Haitian refugees after the earthquake. Once the poorest country in the western hemisphere, Haiti was now also the embodiment of destruction, disease, and death. Anyone who could get out was getting out. A number of refugees ended up in Los Angeles, some of them in Watts, and a few of them were shamans.
It was competition.
Ever since Ursula, Livvy and the rest of the networked shamans had defeated Tiamat, Los Angeles had become a shaman mecca. It hadn’t hurt Livvy’s business. Ursula knew that SK, Livvy, and Min were incredibly busy. She couldn’t help but know, thanks to the television. Alvina, the woman in Palm Springs, was far enough away that the influx didn’t affect her. Wan-li wasn’t even in L.A. most of the time but was touring through China, famous there for her part in Tiamat’s defeat. The Nahual from Central America had vanished as quickly as she had appeared. Of all the shamans who had finally agreed to help Livvy in the Underworld, Ursula was the only one who hadn’t reaped a benefit. In fact, it had been the opposite.
‘Past years are always better.’
The old proverb was true.
Many of her former clients had been lured away by the ridiculously cheap prices the refugee shamans charged. To the patients, it must seem like the bargain of the century. To the shamans, it must seem like a gold mine. It was a classic win-win.
“Lose-lose for Ursula,” she said, her smooth deep voice filling the room.
She stood and paced in the dim light. Thick draperies prevented streetlamps in the alley from intruding. A large crackling fire provided the only light in the room but it was more than enough. On the far wall, psychedelic portraits of vodun spirits seemed animated in their gilt frames as the flickering glow washed over them. Ursula turned slowly in front of them and stepped back toward the fire. The myriad beads sewn into her deep burgundy velvet robes glinted with reflected sparkles. She reached a hand up and began to unwind the bright pink head wrap but stopped.
‘What happens to the turkey can happen to the rooster too.’
“If they can do it, Ursula can,” she said.
She tucked the hair wrap back into place and glided to the small glass table crowded with bottles.
These were her own herb mixtures, passed down through generations of shamans before her. They had been a significant part of her business until the Haitians had arrived.
She picked up one of the large bottles, its contents gently clinking against the glass.
With a little help from the right person, they might be a staple again.
She set it back down on the table amongst the others.
It could not hurt to ask.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LIVVY DROPPED THE book on the hardwood floor.
That had to be it.
She looked at the collection of artifacts on the glass top of the coffee table and picked up each one in turn before carefully placing it into the soft leather pouch.
The amethyst heart stood in for her own.
The seven points of the amber heptagram represented the seven chakras, the energy centers of the spiritual body. Even the amber itself held the remnants of ancient life.
The ankh was the symbol of Osiris, the green-faced Egyptian god of the dead and also rebirth.
The soul catcher amulet was a bone tube with bear heads carved at both ends, mouths open, intricately detailed with the totem symbols of the Pacific Northwest and inlaid with mother of pearl.
The three-sided Tibetan kila dagger looked more like an ornate nail than a knife. Impaled in the ground, it brought stability to the ritual area and harmonized the energy of it.
The clear crystal pyramid lacked any impurities or internal fissures. Since it had to work as the channeling device, it had to be perfectly transparent.
Her mother’s engagement ring–of course.
And finally, the human skull made of garnet. Nothing was more emblematic of death. Garnet wouldn’t have been her first choice, but ruby was simply out of the question.
She sat at the front edge of the sky blue leather couch, hunching over the suede pouch in one hand and the small skull in the other.
Maybe it was the garnet. She turned the grim little face toward her as she bit her lower lip. She shook her head and tightened a fist around it. No, it was the shape and the color that were important in this case, not the material.
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