“No, it’s not,” Livvy said quietly.
He turned away from her. “Oh, I think it is,” he said. “I imagine she’s laughing right now.”
There was silence. He took a deep breath and tried to fight back the fury.
“SK, I can explain.”
He turned back to her. She had stepped away from the door.
“Explain? To me? All of a sudden?”
She stopped. “I want to explain about the summoning,” she tried.
“I don’t care about the summoning!” he screamed, his hands balling into fists at his side, almost on his tiptoes.
As he said it, the force of that truth hit home. It wasn’t the summoning that hurt. It was not knowing–especially when everybody else did.
“Can you imagine how it felt to hear it from her?”
There was silence again.
“No,” Livvy whispered at last. “I can’t.”
Gods, what had he hoped to accomplish by coming here? Especially like this. He should have waited. He should have cooled off.
“That’s it,” he said, trying to stifle the anger as he turned back to her. “I’d better leave.”
She quickly backed up against the door. “But I haven’t explained,” she pleaded.
“Do you not get it?” he yelled. “I don’t care about the summoning. Summon your mother, your father, anybody, everybody!”
“Please, SK. Just let me–”
He took a step toward the door but she didn’t move.
“Liv,” he said, trying to calm down. “Please. Step aside.”
There was a rumble of thunder over their heads and a sudden deluge of rain hit the glass doors. Neither of them looked.
“You won’t even let me–”
“Liv,” he said. “Step away from the door.”
In his peripheral vision there was a faint blue glow.
“No,” she said.
The glow grew brighter and he realized without looking that electricity was starting to make its way out of one of the wall sockets.
Was she doing that? Without being in the Multiverse?
Thunder boomed overhead. He quickly glanced up and then back at Livvy. The shock and fear that had been in her face was now replaced with something else. Anger?
“Liv,” he said, trying to sound even. “Unless you’re going to physically prevent me from going through that door, I’m leaving. I mean it. That’s what you’ll have to do.”
He stood still and waited. She seemed confused now and glanced back at the door. The electricity in the sockets winked off and the rain outside slackened. The room seemed very quiet. Then, she stepped to the side and away from the door.
“SK,” she said, still backing away. “I would never–”
He didn’t wait for her to finish. He strode to the door, opened it, and slammed it shut behind him. As fast as his short legs would take him, he went to the elevator and hit the call button, glancing back at her door.
When the elevator arrived, he hopped in and hit “Lobby,” almost expecting her to appear outside the closing doors. When she didn’t and they closed, he exhaled with relief, only to stop the exhale halfway out.
He’d been afraid.
He looked up as though he could see into Livvy’s condo. “Gods, Liv,” he muttered. “What just happened?”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
IT WAS TWO in the morning and exhaustion was winning. Livvy got up and started pacing again. Every light in the condo was on and Nacho was keeping her company, waiting for her to go to bed.
“Sorry, Nacho. That’s the last thing I need to do,” she said.
Nacho continued to sit at the beginning of the hallway, watching her.
“No sleep tonight,” she told him.
Of course the natural question, if he could have asked it, would have been “Then when?”
She shook her head. She’d have to worry about that later. For now, all she knew was that she couldn’t let herself fall asleep. She couldn’t let herself wander in the Multiverse, if that’s what was really happening.
She might have called Min to come stay with her, but after SK’s visit she wanted to be alone.
She stopped pacing, as she always did when she thought of him. She put the palms of her hands over her burning eyes and held them there. She was so tired of crying.
“Maybe there’s coffee,” she muttered.
She trudged toward the kitchen but stopped next to the crystal pyramid on the coffee table.
‘Do you know how it felt to hear it from her?’ his voice rang in her head.
She winced and backed away from it, then continued to the kitchen.
Although she didn’t own a coffee brewer, she had a vague recollection of instant coffee in the back of a cupboard. She opened the topmost cabinet and looked past the tea.
Min told me to tell him and I promised I would.
There was the coffee. She set it on the counter but didn’t open it, though her hand still rested on it.
But I didn’t tell him. Dominique did. And now it can’t be undone.
Instead of using a spoon, Livvy poured about a quarter cup of instant coffee into a mug. Then she put the water kettle on the stove and set the flame on high. She watched the blue and orange flames lick at the bottom edges of the kettle.
I have to tell him the truth. If I do nothing else, I will do that.
She stared hard at the flames until their ghostlike images began to cloud her vision. The truth wouldn’t be easy nor would it change what had happened but maybe he would understand.
“Or maybe not,” she said.
There was a reason she’d never told a soul.
The kettle started to whistle.
Livvy poured a quarter cup of water into the dark brown crystals and then added another quarter cup of cold water from the faucet. She downed the entire thing in three gulps and coughed. She had never liked coffee.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
DOMINIQUE HIT THE bell on the counter again, louder this time. Where was that old woman? Was she running a business here or what? Finally, the door to the office opened.
“I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” said Mamacita as she opened the door.
“I’m comin’,” squawked Pete.
When she saw Dominique, she smiled and trundled over. “Dominique,” she said, sitting on the high stool behind the counter. “What can I do for you?”
“Actually,” Dominique said. “It’s what I can do for you.”
Mamacita put on her reading glasses, reached for a peanut and began cracking the shell. “That right,” she said. “Do tell.”
“You–” Dominique said.
“Do tell,” said Pete.
Dominique paused and glared at him. The shrill voice was irritating and she didn’t like being interrupted. “Shut that thing up,” she said flatly.
Without missing a beat, Mamacita put the shelled peanuts in the cage. “Hush now, Pete,” she said. “The young lady has something to say.”
She turned back to Dominique.
“You were saying.”
“You saw the news,” Dominique said, less question than statement.
Mamacita only selected another peanut and peered at her over the top of the glasses.
“The news about the lightning shaman,” said Dominique.
“Oh,” said Mamacita, as she looked down at the peanut she was working on. “I don’t know how you could miss it, that kind of news.”
Dominique nodded. “That was me,” she declared.
“You,” said Mamacita. She stopped shelling the peanut and set it down. “You?”
She finally had the old woman’s attention. Same way she’d have everybody’s attention soon.
“Me.”
“And what would you have had to do with that?”
“I met her in the Multiverse,” Dominique said. “I met her and I beat her.” She paused to let the words sink in. “I’m top shaman now.”
“Top shaman,” Mamacita nodded, say
ing the words as though she were impressed. “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”
Dominique glared at the woman. She didn’t have time for games. “There is and you’re looking at her.”
“Do declare,” Mamacita said. “Do declare.”
“Do declare,” echoed Pete, making the old woman smile.
“And,” Mamacita said as she reviewed the bowl of peanuts carefully. “What is it that you can do for me?”
“I’ll bring you business,” Dominique said. “International business. You could triple this place in months.”
“Well,” said Mamacita, selecting two peanuts. She set one in front of Dominique. “It would be silly to turn down an offer like that.”
“It’d be stupid,” said Dominique, pushing the peanut back. “Only one condition.”
“Always a catch,” said Mamacita quietly.
“Liver the Lightning Shaman isn’t welcome here. No more sales to her.”
A quick frown crossed the old woman’s brown face and then was gone. She smiled placidly. “You might say I have an open door policy,” said Mamacita, as she cracked the shell on her peanut. “No shaman is excluded.”
She paused and looked Dominique directly in the eye. “Not even you.”
Dominique looked right back at her. “You don’t know me,” she said.
“That may be so,” said Mamacita nodding. “But I know my Livvy.” Mamacita smiled at the thought.
This was the moment Dominique had been waiting for.
“You think you know her?” Dominique asked.
“Mmm hmm,” intoned Mamacita, as she took off her glasses.
“Did you know she’s performed a summoning?”
Mamacita’s eyes narrowed but never moved from Dominique’s face. “That’s a serious accusation to make,” she finally said.
“Accusation,” Dominique said, flatly. “I don’t make accusations. I saw it. Me, personally, in the Multiverse.”
“I see,” said Mamacita, non-committal.
“Do you?” said Dominique. “I seriously doubt that because none of you see her for what she really is.”
“And what would that be?” asked Mamacita, sitting back.
“Weak,” said Dominique. “She has summoned her own mother from the dead.”
Mamacita’s eyebrows went up.
“That’s right,” said Dominique, interested in the small revelation. “Her own mother.”
She watched Mamacita’s face intently. ‘Her Livvy,’ she’d said. Mamacita’s eyebrows quickly settled back down but with the smallest furrow of worry.
Did the fact that it was her mother matter more than the summoning?
“What?” said Dominique, leaning forward. “Surely you didn’t think she thought of you as her mother?”
Mamacita sighed and then bizarrely produced a genuine smile for Dominique. Startled, Dominique leaned back, pushing away from the counter.
“I’m going to say this, although I know there’s little chance you’ll understand,” Mamacita said. “She’s my Livvy because she’s dear to me.”
By all the gods, were these people blind?
“And she’s dear to me because of who she is, not what she is,” Mamacita said. She paused, thinking. “But if there was only one thing I could change about that girl,” Mamacita said, looking Dominique in the eye. “It’d be that she was more like you.”
Dominique’s mouth opened slightly in shock.
“Yes,” Mamacita said quietly. “Less compassion, less love. More self-interest, more defenses.”
The old woman shrugged and turned away, but not before Dominique saw that her eyes were glistening.
With a sweep of her long coat, Dominique turned on her heel and strode out. In moments she was on the sidewalk, standing in front of the store.
I know my delivery is effective but…tears?
That’s not what she had expected, not from the legendary Mamacita.
Must be getting old.
Even so, a small feeling of disquiet came over her. Dominique shook it off, tossed her hair and readjusted her jacket. She thrust her hands into the deep pockets of the duster and started down the sidewalk. Phase two was complete. On to phase three.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
HER HANDS TREMBLED in her coat pockets, but Livvy knew it wasn’t the caffeine.
Finally, the door opened. SK stood there, his hand on the knob. He didn’t say a word, just looked at her with an expression that almost seemed bored.
“May I come in?” Livvy asked.
He didn’t move. For a change, he wasn’t dressed for business. The jeans and gray sweatshirt didn’t seem like him. She could see she hadn’t woken him, but he hadn’t yet shaved. The dark circles under his eyes made him look as tired as she felt.
After the sun had risen, she had waited for what seemed like forever. Eventually, she’d just driven over without calling; afraid he wouldn’t answer the phone.
“Please,” she whispered.
She wasn’t dressed for work either–with her army surplus coat, jeans, and orange t-shirt.
Slowly, he opened the door and stood aside.
“Thanks,” she exhaled and went in.
She walked into the front room and glanced at the ocean view outside. The thick fog and impending rain made the surf barely visible. Was that a cigarette she smelled? When she turned, she realized SK had closed the door but was still standing next to it. She might not be staying long.
His sullen face held an empty expression that made her chest ache. He was no longer angry but he had retreated, closed himself off. She looked at the floor, unable to look at the grim rewards she’d earned.
Well then, just say it. Say the thing you came here to say. Just do it and have it be over with. He obviously doesn’t want you here.
But she had never said the thing that she had always needed to say.
Never.
In her coat pockets, her fingernails bit into the palms of her hands, and her fists thrust down so hard that the jacket tugged tightly at her neck. Her heart was hammering as though she was running for her life. Her lungs burned and she realized she was holding her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“I killed my mother,” she blurted out.
She sucked in a sudden breath and opened her eyes. The words rang in the air and for a moment she wasn’t quite sure she’d really said them.
“Excuse me?” SK said.
She quickly swung her gaze up to him but the room seemed to tilt.
“I–” she said. “I can’t breathe.” Somehow her lungs weren’t bringing in enough air although they were working furiously now, her chest heaving. She put a hand on the nearest chair to steady herself.
“Here,” she heard SK say and realized he was helping her to the overstuffed chair. “Sit down.”
She thudded down. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she exhaled.
“You’re hyperventilating,” he answered. “Slow your breathing. I’ll get a glass of water.”
“No, don’t go,” she managed to get out. “Please. Just let me say this.”
He had already turned to go but stopped, several feet away, and turned around. “All right,” he said slowly.
Livvy stared at the floor in front of the chair and gripped the arms. “It was an accident,” she said, still talking and breathing too fast. “My vision quest, the first time I called down lightning.” She swallowed. “She must have been standing too close.”
Livvy’s throat caught and she paused briefly.
“I was in the Multiverse, one of my first journeys. It had seemed so easy,” she said shaking her head at the memory–a memory she hadn’t permitted herself since that awful day. Yet there it was, as clear as though it had happened only minutes ago.
“Liv, you don’t have to do this,” she heard SK say but she didn’t dare look at him.
She plunged on. “I called down lightning, without a care or a thought, with no clue about what I was doing,” she said, grinding the words ou
t as her jaw tried to clench. “I didn’t understand what was happening.”
She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I don’t know how long I was there, it was only the Middleworld but–”
Oh gods, the image in her mind.
“Liv,” she heard SK say.
“But when I came back and took off the goggles,” she shut her eyes tight. “She was there, on the floor. I saw right away there was something wrong. Her legs were at a weird angle and I crawled over to where she was.” Livvy put her forehead on her knees. “Her eyes were wide open and her mouth looked like it was screaming, the lips pulled so tight. There was a giant blistered burn mark on the side of her head and a deep black hole in the middle of it.” She saw it with utter clarity. “Not even one drop of blood,” she whispered.
Without warning, a memory of the smell came back–burned human hair and charred bone. Livvy quickly jerked her head up and covered her mouth with both her hands as the nausea rose in her throat. She opened her eyes and saw SK.
His face was twisted in…what? Pain? Disgust?
“Liv, stop,” he said.
But she couldn’t stop, even if she’d wanted to.
“I had to summon her,” she yelled, staring into his eyes. “I had to, don’t you see? I wanted her to be whole. I needed to tell her I was sorry, that I didn’t know what I was doing.” She stopped suddenly and looked away. Her voice became a whisper. “I had to tell her it was an accident. Awful. Unspeakable. But an accident.”
Now the exhaustion was catching up to her and she felt her entire body trembling. Finally she looked at SK. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but I couldn’t. I was–” She paused. “I am so ashamed of what I’ve done. I couldn’t tell anybody, especially you.”
She put her forehead tiredly on her knees again.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Liv, stop,” SK said, quietly. “Just stop.”
He was right. She nodded against her knees. It was time to stop. There was nothing more to say. She needed to go.
She lifted her head with an effort. “I can do that,” she whispered and put her feet on the ground.
Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Books 1 -3 Page 49
