Livvy glanced down. Yes, she had. “I don’t need it,” she said, hoping Min would turn around. “It’ll be fine. If you’re ready to go, I’m ready to go.”
“Really,” said Min. She dropped the waffles in the trash and finally turned around. Her face was set like a stone. “Well, you might want to put on some shoes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
FLORE WAS LYING on her mat, eyes closed. Most of the other shamans sat cross-legged on theirs.
“You didn’t say there’d be a network,” said Mayet, as he set down his briefcase.
Dominique spoke in French. “Oh didn’t I?” she said, smoothly. “You know, I think I’m so used to working in the L.A. manner that I don’t think of it any more.”
She watched as Mayet digested that. She had gambled he wouldn’t know how far networking had spread–which wasn’t far–or what shamanism in L.A. was like–not like this–since he hadn’t had time to connect with many shamans.
She had expected him to ask about the network–or at least about the other shamans–but he didn’t. Instead, he sniffed absently and stood a little straighter.
Doesn’t want to appear unknowledgeable. Interesting.
“May I take your coat?” asked Pipsqueak.
Mayet continued to stare at the group. Then, as though he had just processed the question, he started to remove his coat. “Yes, thank you,” he replied.
Pipsqueak helped him out of it.
“Would you care for some coffee or tea?” asked Dominique.
“No, no, no,” said Mayet. “Do what you normally do. I’ll be fine.”
He approached the network boxes at the front of the squad. Long wires trailed from them, running off the rough wooden table on which they rested, and then down between the long columns of shamans. The wires had been covered with gray duct tape that matched the polished cement floor. The lines of tape were straight, parallel, and cut to precise lengths. When the tape reached a mat, it ended in a perfectly square cut and the wires continued, eventually connecting to each shaman’s goggles.
Mayet peered down at the blond-wigged, nail-studded nkondi, strapped to the top of the nearest network box. He cocked his head and frowned.
“A little something from home,” Dominique said, keeping her tone conversational. “It helps some of the girls to settle in, to have something familiar nearby.”
Mayet nodded and strolled to the other side of the coffee table, obviously intrigued by the setup. Dominique watched him carefully. He evidently wanted to be a part of this as much as she did. Everything was clicking into place. There was no way she could fail.
“And your client,” said Mayet, looking at Flore. “She is in need of this,” he gestured around, “this network.”
“Honestly,” said Dominique. “No.”
He looked at her, surprised.
“But it is easier and quicker for us, and in the end that is better for the client.”
He considered that. “And what is the nature of her ailment?”
“Hexed,” Dominique declared. “An ancestor spirit, maybe two.”
His eyebrows went up. “Two,” he said slowly. “I see.” He looked over the columns of shamans. “Two,” he muttered, nodding.
Dominique glanced at her watch. “I think it’s time we get started,” she said.
Almost as one, the shamans began to lie back on their mats.
Pipsqueak jogged over to her mat and lay down.
“Mayet,” said Dominique. “I’ll be here.” She gestured down to her own mat, in front of the coffee table. A small square cushion had been placed beside it.
“Oh,” he said stepping over to it. “How thoughtful.”
Dominique watched him sit down. He didn’t suspect a thing. This was going to be easy.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
COMPARED TO THE quiet car ride, the sudden media barrage was like a wall of sound and light, even through the tinted windows. Despite the downpour, the media had turned out in numbers. Video lights glared and camera flashes exploded on all sides as Min waited for the wrought iron gate to swing open. Livvy turned her face away from the cameras just as SK was doing the same thing. Their eyes met and she quickly looked down.
The ride to Bel Air had been quick but the strained silence had made it seem grindingly long. SK had begun with the usual good mornings but must have realized something was wrong. Min was serious and quiet and, so, not very Min-like. For her part, Livvy was finding it hard to push down a feeling of lingering dread, especially as they approached the house.
Let go of it, she thought. It’s not the client’s fault. Focus on her.
Min proceeded through the gate and up the curved drive to the main house. Matthew, Claire Stockard’s son, was already waiting at the immense front door.
Though legendary, Claire’s Hollywood star had faded decades ago, almost as Matthew’s had begun to rise. He had begun as an actor but had quickly moved behind the camera and now was one of the most sought-after directors in the industry. It was only through his movies that his mother worked at all.
Min parked and the three of them got out. Even from this distance, they could hear the cameras clicking at the gate. Photographers and cameramen were crowded together under umbrellas, jostling each other to get a clear shot.
As Livvy approached, Matthew reached out his hand. “Welcome back, Olivia.”
She reached out her hand and a spark jumped between them as she grasped his hand. He jumped slightly although he’d been expecting it. He smiled awkwardly.
“I never remember what it’s going to be like,” he said.
“SK,” he said, shaking hands with him.
He was purposely standing to the side of the car so the photographers had a clear view. Always an eye toward publicity.
“And a special welcome to Soo Min,” he said, shaking hands with her. “SK said you’d be assisting today.”
Min only nodded.
“Well,” said Matthew, glancing one more time in the direction of the gate. “Shall we go in?”
He ushered them into the grand foyer as a maid closed the door behind them. Their shoes clicked along the marble floors and echoed in the high ceiling. Matthew then led them up the incredibly wide and spiraling staircase. This was a Hollywood mansion from the heyday of Hollywood mansions. An enormous chandelier hung in the center, two stories tall. Small windows that spiraled upward with the staircase shone their light on it. Even the dull gray of the day didn’t prevent the faceted crystals from splashing small rainbows along the steps. Despite having seen it before, everyone except Matthew glanced at it as they circled around.
They had been here twice before, both times after Claire had come out of rehab. They all knew that what Claire really needed was a break from her lifestyle, continued counseling, and a personal physician who wasn’t so quick to prescribe something, but she had never been one to commit to something. As time had gone on, her addiction seemed to return with more and more vehemence while her ability to control herself between bouts seemed to grow weaker and weaker. Livvy had already had this conversation with her and Matthew, together and separately. Eventually, her habits would kill her. Today’s visit would be another band-aid on a situation that needed surgery. She would wake from the Multiverse rejuvenated and whole in spirit but it wouldn’t last.
“Mom is already lying down,” said Matthew at the top of the stairs. He stopped and lowered his voice. “Actually, she’s hardly been out of bed for a few days now.”
He sounded worried and it was the reason that canceling this appointment had been out of the question–aside from the media attention Matthew had created. Claire was in trouble.
They continued down the wide hallway, past the antique Louis XIV side tables, gilded mirrors and marble tiled floors.
“Has she had any specific complaints?” asked Livvy.
Matthew shook his head. “No,” he said quietly, slowing down. “Just that she’s tired.”
He stopped in front of the only closed door on this level and
reached for the knob. Livvy put a hand on his arm to stop him. A spark popped but she ignored it.
“Has she been eating?” she whispered.
“Less and less each day,” he whispered. “Mostly broth.”
Livvy nodded. She glanced back at Min and SK as they exchanged looks. Claire was withdrawing from the world. Their visit had come in time but it was worrying.
Livvy looked back to Matthew. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”
The bedroom was so dark it took a moment for their eyes to adjust. On previous visits, the French doors to the balcony at the far end of the room had been open and the sunshine had poured in. Even though it was cloudy today and the doors were closed, the curtains had been drawn.
“She says the light hurts her eyes,” Matthew whispered.
Although the room was dim, Livvy knew there must be roses–lots of them. Their scent was everywhere, even a little cloying.
“It’s my eyes that hurt,” came a brittle voice. “My ears are fine.”
“Mom, Olivia’s here,” said Matthew.
“I know,” she replied.
Livvy went directly over to the bed. Another maid was perched next to it in a chair. On the side table was an ornate silver serving tray with a plate covered by a silver dome. The utensils were wrapped in a napkin next to it, unused. Livvy smiled briefly at the maid.
The bed was an enormous four-poster of polished white wood with gold accents. The fabric canopy was made of cascades of pink silk that matched the comforter, small pillows, and ruffle at the bottom. The bed stood so high that Livvy barely had to bend over.
Claire was wearing a quilted lavender half-jacket, buttoned up to her neck. She was propped up on several pillows into a semi-reclining position. Livvy touched the comforter first, discharging a small spark, and then took Claire’s hand in hers.
“Hi there,” she said, smiling.
She reached her other hand up to Claire’s forehead and lightly brushed it with the back of her hand. Successive facelifts had assured the skin there was smooth. It was hot but Claire wasn’t sweating. Livvy gently moved a few strands of Claire’s platinum blond hair aside.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like hell,” said Claire.
Without any real force behind the words, they hung there like the plain statement of fact they were.
Livvy nodded and heard Min behind her unrolling the mats and getting the goggles ready.
“You’ve got a helper today,” said Claire, though she didn’t try to see who it was.
“Soo Min,” replied Livvy. “The best of the best.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Claire.
Then she coughed–a watery, painful cough. She’d been lying here too long, thought Livvy. That would have to stop.
“Have you eaten today?” she asked as Min plugged the goggles into the network box.
Claire made a face.
“We’ve talked about this before,” said Livvy as she gently rubbed Claire’s hand. “Mind, spirit, and body. They go together.”
Claire only closed her eyes in reply.
Livvy gently released her hand and turned to SK and Min. “Let’s get started,” she said.
Matthew gave his mother a last look and let himself out, closing the door behind him.
As Min lay down on her mat, Livvy hesitated. Her mother was waiting in the Multiverse and Min was bound to see her. There was simply no way to avoid it. Inwardly, Livvy cringed. Then she thought about the lightning. Aware that SK was watching, she quickly took a seat on her mat.
Just before she put on the goggles, she looked at him. “Back in a bit,” she said, trying to sound normal.
Apparently it hadn’t worked. Something had alerted him.
He looked directly into her eyes. “I’ll be here,” he said, a reassuring tone in his voice.
Min already had her goggles on and Livvy heard the snap of the power button and then the mild hum. “See you on the flip side,” Livvy whispered as she turned on her own goggles and settled back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
AS LIVVY HAD expected, the Underworld was completely changed. The urban landscape was gone. Nor did Min see the temple in her village. Instead of their normal navigational aids, they both saw the milky white and undulating surface of the true Underworld. It stretched to infinity, blending into the white of the cloudy sky at the horizon. Although it might first appear like it’d be easy to spot a client in the pervasive white, the small hillocks were more than large enough to hide people. Both Min and Livvy knew it was easy to get lost.
“The same,” said Min.
“Yeah,” replied Livvy.
The last time they’d done this together had been the last time Min had been networked. It had nearly killed her. A combination of the attack by Tiamat, Livvy’s wild lightning strike, and the extra effort that it took to be networked had sent Min into a coma from which she had almost not awakened.
Despite knowing this was what they’d find, it was sobering.
Livvy glanced around. Where’s Mom?
Maybe she wouldn’t show up. Could she be that lucky? Thankfully, no ancestor spirits were visible either. In fact, now that she thought about it, she’d never seen an ancestor spirit when the Underworld looked like this.
Min started up a hill to their right. Livvy took another quick look around and then headed up the one to the left.
Maybe her mom had become disoriented in the whiteness. Maybe she ought to be worried about her instead of hoping she wouldn’t show up.
A bird cry overhead caused them both to look skyward. Swooping down to a spot in front of Min, her spirit helper landed with a great whoosh. It was Kam, the snowy white owl Livvy had met once before. He had helped to distract Tiamat and saved Min’s life in their last joint visit.
Kam furled his wings with a light rustling noise. Min bent over him and gently stroked the glossy white feathers between his ears. Slowly, he blinked his great circular eyes.
“Kam,” Livvy said, nodding to him.
He bobbed his head once in her direction, then turned to Min who stood up.
All three turned their faces to the sky.
The clouds had begun to stream away from the fountain in a certain direction. They all knew this was the direction in which the client would be located. Her spirit helper seemed fine.
“Livvy, there you are,” came her mother’s voice from below.
Livvy felt a shudder down her spine.
Although she had hoped–had almost convinced herself–this moment would never come, it was here. She forced herself to turn and look down the slope.
“What’s happened to the Underworld?” her mom asked, as she climbed toward Livvy.
Min had left her hilltop and was approaching from the opposite direction. Livvy swallowed in a dry throat as the two arrived.
Min cocked her head slightly. “I don’t understand,” she said. “This isn’t Claire.”
For a moment, Livvy thought of telling Min that this was an ancestor spirit. In a way, it was almost true. But as Livvy watched Min’s face and saw the expectant look there, she felt a sudden and unexpected fatigue that pressed her shoulders into a slump. She was so tired of lying.
“No,” said Livvy. She paused. “No, Min. This is my mother.”
Again Min cocked her head. Kam landed off to her right and was watching.
“Your mother,” said Min, as though saying it would help her understand.
Then she looked at Livvy’s mom.
“I thought your mother was…” Her head snapped around to Livvy. “Livvy, what have you–”
“She’s summoned me,” said her mother. “From the dead.”
Min stared at the woman.
“See, you can say it,” her mother said. “Dead. I’ve been summoned from the dead.”
Her tone was light and conversational and put a weird spin on an already strange meeting. Now Livvy stared at her too.
“Sorry,” her mom said quickly. Th
en she cleared her throat and looked down. “I’m sorry, honey. Just a little nervous.”
“That’s okay, Mom.” Livvy gave her shoulder a little squeeze.
“So,” said Min. “This is why you didn’t want me here.”
There was a rumble of thunder overhead, which they all ignored.
“Yes,” said Livvy, looking at the ground too, not able to meet Min’s eyes.
“A summoning,” said Min as things clicked into place. “You might be one of the few shamans who could do it but, by all the gods in the Multiverse, Livvy, why?”
“Because I had to, Min,” Livvy blurted out as she looked up. “I can explain.”
Min briefly looked at Kam who had spread his great wings and given a few agitated flaps before folding them again.
“SK doesn’t know, does he?” asked Min.
“No, he doesn’t. He can’t. Please, Min, you can’t tell him.”
Min glanced from Livvy to her mom and then back again.
“Please, Min, I’m begging you,” Livvy pleaded. “Please don’t tell SK.”
Min’s face was grim at the thought and she paused for several long moments. “No, I won’t tell him,” said Min finally.
Livvy breathed a sigh of relief.
“You will,” Min concluded.
Livvy froze, mid-breath.
“I promise I won’t tell SK,” Min said. “Now, you promise me that you will.”
Livvy saw Min’s mouth drawn into a straight line, the forward tilt of her head, and the dark unblinking eyes as Min stared at her.
Livvy looked into her eyes even as she tried to imagine telling SK.
How could that possibly go well?
Min was right, though, and she knew it. In a way, it was a relief.
“I’ll tell him,” said Livvy. “I promise.”
Min nodded. There was none of the condemnation Livvy had feared, nor any recrimination. Only Min.
“Okay,” said Min. “I think we’d better find Claire.”
“Right,” Livvy said, nodding. “Right.”
They both checked the direction of the clouds.
Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Books 1 -3 Page 44
