Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Books 1 -3

by Green, M. Terry

  “Orion,” Franklin said. “Is that a star?”

  “Not exactly. More like a group of stars. Orion is a constellation, usually drawn in the shape of a hunter with a bow.”

  Celestino traced a small arc against the sky. “It’s hard to see without the entire constellation visible but the bow has already appeared, right there.”

  He glanced at his computer screen. The telescope was still tracking below the horizon so the screen was blank.

  “And why is the constellation of Orion so important that we have to stand out here?”

  Celestino frowned. Somehow he hadn’t envisioned the Pahaana as a whiner. He tapped off some ash.

  “It’s not the constellation, per se. It’s the star that forms the hunter’s foot, Rigel, the blue supergiant and the sixth brightest star in the night sky.”

  “A blue star?” asked Franklin. Then he thought for a second. “The blue star. Oh, I see.”

  I doubt it.

  “Hmm,” said Franklin, looking down at the screen. “And you’re just waiting so you can see it?”

  “Right,” said Celestino. He took a seat in front of the laptop and hoped that was the end of the chatter. Franklin stared at the screen and then the horizon, scowling a bit. He leaned down lower to see the screen, although it was still blank.

  “Why? You already know it’s going to be there.”

  Celestino sighed. “Because Rigel varies in brightness from approximately a magnitude of .03 to 0.3–ten times as bright. The average period of the fluctuations is approximately twenty-five days–”

  Franklin stood up and backed away.

  “What are you, an astronomer or something?”

  “B.S. in Earth and Space Exploration.”

  Franklin stared at him as Celestino took a drag and slowly blew out.

  “We didn’t all begin as shamans,” Celestino said. “I left the rez for a while.”

  And not just in search of the Pahaana, he thought. It was hard to believe now but, once upon a time, he’d actually been young. He’d won scholarships to ASU and was going to do big things in astronomy. But it hadn’t taken long to realize that a ‘dirty Indian’ wasn’t going to fit in. It wasn’t until he’d talked with his lab partner too long, a nice girl his same age, that he’d feared for his safety. They’d dragged him from his bed that same night–out of the dorm, and into the street to show a ‘dumb Indian’ the way back to the reservation.

  “So, twenty-five days,” Franklin said. “What does that have to do with … anything?”

  Celestino looked back to the horizon. His uncle and he had made these twenty-five day sightings for years. The only relative who’d ever had any interest in him, his uncle had passed the tablets on just minutes before his death. He wished he could be here now.

  “The timing must be exactly right,” Celestino said. “For the first time since I’ve been making these observations, it looks like the peak of Rigel’s magnitude fluctuation will coincide with the winter solstice.”

  Franklin frowned and looked at the horizon but shook his head.

  “The blue star,” Celestino said. “It will be brightest and most visible exactly at the height of Soyal.”

  “As foretold in the prophecy,” Franklin said. “The Blue Star has to appear.”

  Celestino only nodded.

  Franklin shifted his feet again and checked his watch.

  “You don’t have to stay,” Celestino said.

  “I’m not planning to,” Franklin said. “Just wondering where Victor is.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  TRESPASSING ON NAVAJO tribal land and a national park at the same time. No doubt a new low for shamanism, thought Livvy. Dale had picked them up from the hotel and headed west on Route 264. They’d have to drive nearly two hours to get to Canyon de Chelly.

  “So, you think we’ll need a gun?” she asked.

  She looked at Dale over SK, who sat between them on the bench seat. Dale glanced at her and then into the rear view mirror.

  “Oh that,” he said. “It’s my uncle’s truck. He’s a hunter.”

  Mounted on a rack inside the back window was a rifle.

  “I wouldn’t even know how to use it.”

  SK turned and glanced at the gun. “That’s a Winchester lever-action,” he said. “Probably a 30-30, if he’s a deer hunter.”

  Livvy stared at SK.

  “He is a deer hunter,” Dale said. “Even though it’s tribal land he has to get–”

  Suddenly, a banging sound reverberated through the cabin and the truck lurched forward. Livvy’s head hit the rear window and Dale grabbed the steering wheel.

  “What was that?” he yelled.

  “Someone hit us from behind,” SK said, looking back.

  Dale checked the mirror just as another blow came, lurching them ahead again.

  “What the–”

  “Big SUV,” SK yelled. “Step on it!”

  “I am stepped on it!”

  Livvy turned around and realized the SUV had its headlights off. “I can’t see a license plate,” she yelled over the screeching engine.

  It sounded like it was going to fly apart.

  “They’re coming around,” SK yelled at Dale. “On your side.”

  The SUV slammed into the side of the truck with a loud crunch as the tires on both of the vehicles squealed. Livvy could smell rubber burning. The right side of the truck slammed into a guard rail and sparks sailed by as metal scraped against metal in a high pitched scream.

  “We can’t outrun them,” she heard SK yell, as the guard rail disappeared.

  The truck slipped to the right and down. SK put his arm in front of her and Livvy saw Dale frantically cranking the steering wheel in the opposite direction.

  With a thud, the truck landed–first the right wheels, then the left–and Livvy heard gravel pinging crazily on the underside. The beams of their headlights were visible in the dark billows of dust. Suddenly, there was an enormous crunch on her side and the truck stopped. As SK collided with her, she realized the passenger window in her peripheral vision was approaching with alarming speed.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  LIVVY COULDN’T QUITE get her feet on the ground. Someone was helping her but she couldn’t see anything in the dark. Her head was throbbing. Then she remembered the truck.

  “Wait,” she managed to get out. “SK.”

  Whoever was helping her hadn’t heard.

  “In the truck,” she said, a little louder. “Dale and–”

  “Right there,” said the man, as she ran straight into the side of a car and doubled over on its hood.

  She felt a hand on her back pushing her down as her face met the warm metal with a thud. She tasted blood. Both hands were tugged behind her and she felt her wrists being pinched together with something. What was going on? Where was the truck? Where was SK? The pain was rapidly clearing her brain.

  “Ow!” she said, as someone yanked her back into a standing position.

  A bright light shone directly in her face and she shut her eyes against it and turned away.

  “Where’s the tablet?”

  She heard footsteps run up as gravel crunched.

  “It’s not in the truck or this bag.”

  She felt something hit her feet and heard a muffled thump in front of her.

  They’re looking for the tablet. Was SK all right? And Dale?

  “Where is it?” said the man as he grabbed her hair and forced her face into the light.

  “I don’t know,” she said, squinting, trying to see a face.

  He gripped her hair harder and shook her head as she sucked in a breath at the pain.

  “Where is the tablet?” he growled.

  “I don’t know!”

  “I thought she was supposed to have it,” said the one who’d reported on the bag. His voice was high and upset.

  “Obviously she doesn’t,” said the first man.

  Wait, she recognized his voice.

  “You’re gonn
a tell me,” he snarled. “Make it easy or hard. I don’t care which.”

  That wasn’t Celestino’s voice but it had to be him who wanted the tablet.

  “I don’t know where it is,” she said, trying to stay calm. “That’s why we’re out here. We’re looking for it.”

  But that would mean Celestino didn’t have it either.

  How could that be?

  “Okay,” said the voice again. “I was wrong.” He let go of her hair with a shove but the light didn’t turn off. “Actually, I lied–I do care whether we make this easy or hard. We’ll make it hard.”

  “But she said she doesn’t know,” said the high-pitched voice.

  “Don’t be stupid,” said the first voice. “Get more rope.”

  Someone pulled her toward the front of the car.

  The headlights of the SUV were on and she finally got a glimpse of the man’s face–thin with thin lips, and heavily pockmarked. It was the shaman with the vulture, the sorcerer who had tried to take Emma’s heart. As he shoved her back against the front grill, she realized her head still throbbed and her right shoulder and ribs were aching.

  “Use more rope than that,” growled the sorcerer. “We don’t want her to move.”

  “But why the grill?” came the high-pitched voice, sounding even more scared than her.

  “Because you don’t want to be touching her for this.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  LEON HAD WAITED until dark. It was stealing, after all. Well, not stealing, like stealing. It was actually stealing to prevent stealing. Well, whatever it was, it was the right thing to do. Even so, it might be best if nobody saw him. They might not understand.

  “As long as I understand,” he muttered.

  Leon crept through the junk pile at the back of Ruby’s house. He bumped his knee into something sharp.

  “Ouch!” he said, before he could stifle it.

  Maybe it was too dark but he didn’t risk using the flashlight–not yet. Even though nobody lived in Walpi, you could see everything from Sichomovi. He rubbed his knee as he looked left and right and took a deep breath. Bending even lower, he started toward the house again.

  It had been years since the Blue Star Kachina had appeared at a Bean Dance. Except for the prophecy, he wasn’t even sure what the kachina was supposed to do. Even the prophecy was a bit vague–something about taking off the mask in front of uninitiated kids.

  “Pfft,” Leon said.

  Who would do that? It wasn’t like some Vegas show. ‘Impersonators’ is what anthros liked to call kachina dancers. But when a dancer put on the mask he didn’t impersonate anybody. He was the kachina.

  Leon carefully climbed the few back steps. The flagstone was loose. The house wasn’t being maintained. No surprise there. Ruby and Nolan hadn’t lived here for many years. He tried the knob. It was locked.

  “Rats,” he muttered.

  The door had a window made up of six rectangular panes. He was wearing thick gloves in the cold. After checking in every direction, he lightly punched the pane closest to the knob. It cracked with a lot less sound than he was expecting and then the chunks clinked on the floor inside. He reached inside and unlocked the knob.

  Leon didn’t know if Nolan had ever danced as a kachina. It was Nolan’s uncle who had, a long time ago. Nolan was in his seventies now. When Ruby had died, their kids had made him move off the mesa.

  Leon opened the door, ducked inside, and stepped on the broken glass. He heard it crunch under his boot.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, as he closed the door.

  Of course, he didn’t really know if Nolan had the mask but it made sense. Leon’s uncle had been a member of the same clan as Nolan and sometimes there was talk, even when it came to the ceremonies–mostly when people were worried that the knowledge of them and their meanings were being lost.

  He turned and passed by the wood stove and a metal tub that acted as a sink. It wouldn’t be in the kitchen. He took a couple of slow steps, passing a single closed door, and entered what looked like the living room. It was the end of the house.

  Well, that made it easy. The mask wouldn’t be in the living room either. That kind of sacred power wasn’t just left out where anybody could see it. If it weren’t for the fact that he was a clown, Leon might not even attempt this. During kachina dances, clowns were the only ones allowed to touch them. They guided them and protected them and, if necessary, made small repairs to their clothes or masks during a dance.

  Leon backed up a few steps and opened the door. He took a quick look around at the various shapes in the darkness: a bed, a dresser, a nightstand and a chair. Then he looked at the closet. One of the sliding doors was open but it was like a black hole inside. This was the best place for it to be–out of sight but somewhere it could still breathe and be fed. He’d have to risk some light.

  He took out his car keys, twisted the knurled end of the little metal flashlight, and pointed it into the darkness. Empty hangers hung on the rod and there was a pillow up on the shelf, but down below there was hardly anything, just an old scarf in the corner. Leon bent down and brought the flashlight closer to the floor.

  That doesn’t look like a scarf.

  He squatted down and picked it up. It had a string running through some loops along one edge. It was a curtain.

  Uh oh.

  He brought the flashlight as close to the floor as he could get it. A fine but bright yellow dust coated the floor–corn pollen. It had been fed to the mask which must have been stored behind the curtain.

  Someone had got here before him.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  SK JERKED HIS head upright and that was the wrong thing to do. A shooting pain ran down the side of his neck like a hot ice pick. He put a hand on it.

  He had apparently been lying on the bench seat of the truck. There was blood on it.

  “Liv?” he yelled, staring at the blood.

  Dale groaned. He was slumped over the steering wheel.

  “Dale,” he said, quickly feeling for a pulse on his neck.

  It was strong and Dale groaned again. He was breathing fine. SK whirled back to the open passenger door with another shooting pain down his neck.

  “Liv!” he called.

  Where is she? Had she been thrown clear?

  He had been about to get down and search when he heard her scream–a blood freezing wail that was more animal than human. In one motion, he slammed both hands down on the rifle, ripped it from the mounts, and jumped through the passenger door.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  THE SCREAM WAS completely involuntary. As it died away, Livvy sank to her knees. The grill of the SUV was tall, though. With her wrists tied to it, she couldn’t fall to the ground. Instead, she leaned out at an awkward angle. She coughed spasmodically between heaving gasps, sucking in the ends of her own hair until someone pushed her back upright.

  “I like to think of this as a little lightning of my own,” the sorcerer said, breathing into her face. “You visit me, I visit you.”

  When he’d brought out the taser, Livvy had thought it was some sort of boxy gun, maybe a gun with a silencer. The neon yellow trim should have been a clue.

  “Where is the tablet?” he yelled.

  “Please,” she said, between gasps. “Please, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  Up above, the stars and moon had disappeared behind black clouds. Thunder was rumbling and, though Livvy couldn’t see anything in the glare of the headlights, she knew there was lightning. She could feel it–a static buildup in the air and a growing heat deep in her chest. From the moment she’d heard the whine of the taser charging, she knew they were all in trouble–her and anyone near her.

  The sorcerer leaned in close. “Kill my spirit helper, will you?” he snarled. “My spirit helper? You have reaped this. This and more.”

  Livvy tried to shake her head. She hadn’t meant for the vulture to die. She tried to say so but could only cough.

  “You’re going
to kill her with that thing,” the other man yelled, his voice incredibly high now. “You’ve got to stop!”

  “Idiot!” screamed the sorcerer. “That’s the point. It doesn’t kill people.” He turned back to Livvy and held up the taser. “It only hurts them.”

  The two metal probes of the device glinted briefly but quickly disappeared. As Livvy squirmed desperately to move away, she felt the sharp jabs in her stomach and then convulsed.

  She couldn’t scream.

  The pain was like instant fire; but every muscle in her body strained against every other. She was paralyzed, her mouth frozen open in a soundless shriek as the pain built even higher. Nothing moved.

  “Stop!” screamed the other man.

  Lightning flashed.

  The taser stopped and she pitched forward, held again by the ropes on the grill. She panted now, without the energy for gasps or screams. The pain in her wrists seemed to disappear and only one feeling remained–the growing heat in her chest and the prickly static on her skin. Lightning was coming and it would be completely out of control. None of them would survive.

  Thunder shattered the air above them and as it slowly died away, Livvy heard a metal clack.

  “Drop it,” she heard SK say into the stillness.

  No, not SK!

  “Get away,” she whispered, not able to raise her head.

  She saw the taser land on the ground in her narrowing field of vision. It was as if a circle was closing.

  “Move away from her,” SK ordered.

  Her head felt like it weighed five tons. With a tremendous effort, she slowly raised it. There he was, pointing a rifle. Blood was running from his nose.

  “SK,” she tried to yell but it only came out as a dry whine. “Get away!”

  “Look at her eyes!” yelled the other shaman.

  “What’s going on?” screamed the sorcerer.

  “Run!” yelled the other, as he did just that.

  She couldn’t hold her head up any longer. As it fell, another peal of thunder ruptured the sky above them, drowning out any more voices. Heat was building in the center of her chest.