Then Livvy noticed the wall behind the counter. Though she remembered the neon paintings of the vodun saints, these weren’t those. They were bright though, even psychedelic. It was to be expected given the subject matter: the symbols of the entrance to the Multiverse. Most of the unframed canvases were full of the spirals, checkerboards, crisscrossing lines, and zigzags that shamans the world over experienced. But some of the images were unfamiliar to Livvy: mountainous landscapes, glowing and brilliant, surrounding a deeply blue lake. In the sky, a strangely faceted sun refracted light like a prism. All of the paintings had price tags and all seemed to be signed by the same person: Nicole.
Why does that name seem familiar?
Ursula loudly capped the tall glass jar of dried flowers, nearly threw it back into the case, and fetched another.
“Ursula,” Livvy said. “I don’t know what I’ve done to upset you, but if you’ll just talk to me, I’m sure we can work this out.” She glanced down at the rows of bottles again. “Why aren’t you using the Lightning Shaman endorsement? I could–”
“That is enough,” Ursula exclaimed, hitting a loud buzzer under the counter.
“What?” Livvy said, backing up. “Ursula, please–”
Ursula ripped off her gloves. “You tell them Ursula has nothing to do with that anymore. Nothing.”
The door behind the curtain opened, and the giant man from downstairs barreled through, the curtain flying. Livvy jumped back, nearly dropping her cane, her heart pounding. In seconds, he crossed the room and took her by the arm. As though she were a rag doll, he easily dragged her to the door.
“You tell them!” Ursula yelled as Livvy was nearly launched through the curtain. “Tell them there was nothing here!”
CHAPTER SIX
BRAD PITCHED FORWARD onto his knees, water spewing from his mouth and nose onto the gravel beach. Only a hard tug at his shoulder kept him upright as he started to hack like a barking seal.
“You’re all right,” Valentin said, his Russian accent barely noticeable. “Just try to breathe normally.”
Normally? Brad covered his mouth to stop the cough. Normal wasn’t a word he would have thought applied to the Multiverse. He sputtered and hacked some more. Valentin pounded his back.
Why is this still so hard?
Or maybe Valentin just made it look easy. Maybe that was it. From the Altai Mountains to the Siberian Sea, he was one of the most powerful shamans in all of Russia. That was why Brad had picked him.
“Good boy,” Valentin said. “Breathe in and out. In and out.”
Brad nodded, still wracked with coughs. Gods, how he hated the journey from the Middleworld to the Underworld. It never got any easier. He willed himself to stop coughing, holding his breath. These aren’t real lungs. Though his chest and throat still burned, he wiped his mouth and pushed to his feet, shrugging off Valentin’s help.
“I’m fine,” Brad gasped, but coughed again.
He hurriedly smoothed down the front of his leather pullover shirt, already dry. He combed his fingers back through his short hair. Then he stood up straight to his full height. No sooner had high school ended than he’d shot up like a weed, and his body had also filled out. Training in the gym, training in the Multiverse, training on the frozen tundra of the steppes–it had been non-stop.
Valentin gave him an encouraging smile, his wispy mustache lifting at the corners of his mouth. The middle-aged shaman was slim, his face long and angular, made more so by his lengthy beard. The whiskers were sparse but still black, like his thinning, shoulder-length hair. He dyed both himself, as was painfully obvious to everyone but him.
Brad cleared his throat. “Let’s get to work,” he said.
Behind Valentin, the spout of the inverted whirlpool had already collapsed back into the deeply blue lake. More like an ocean, the far shore was out of view over the horizon. An expansive glacier abutted the water to the right, its leading edge a sheer cliff about one hundred yards wide. The craggy, pointed peaks of gray mountains rose up majestically all around them. Pristine snow lay in every direction. The branches of the misshapen and twisted alpine trees in the nearby forest were laden with tall slices of snow. Icicles hung like crystal ornaments from the lowest ones.
Behind them, above the gravel beach, were the other shamans. Like Valentin, they wore the distinctive silk robes of the Altai region, though Valentin didn’t wear the cap.
Brad inhaled deeply. It was the landscape of his healing, where his parents had brought him in a last ditch effort to stem his self-destructive behavior. Little had they known he had the makings of a shaman himself. He started the short walk up the gravel beach even as the sound of galloping paws came from just beyond the dense tree line. Despite the fresh powder, the approach of the black bear was distinct and growing louder.
“Umka,” Brad said.
The great beast lumbered into view, shaking sheets of ice crystals down in his wake. His gait had always seemed comedic to Brad, sort of back heavy. As usual, Umka snorted a little. His paws were more like giant, furry pancakes, flopping up and down. Behind him, Valentin’s gray wolf loped easily, his movement effortless, especially by comparison. But as the heavy-footed bear approached, Brad put out his hand as he always did. You didn’t get to choose your spirit helper. The bear dipped his head and placed it under his hand.
“Okay, Umka,” Brad said. “Find this lost soul.”
“You don’t need to tell him,” Valentin reminded him.
I wasn’t, Brad thought, though he didn’t say it. He didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but sometimes Valentin could be a nag.
Umka looked at the two of them, but wheeled his hulking body around with an awkward half-jump and headed along the shore away from the other shamans. They never went through the dark forest, which was good. It was as though Umka followed a scent, his muzzle near the ground, constantly snuffling.
Brad loped after the black bear and heard Valentin jogging behind him. Though the man probably couldn’t have run a block in the real world, he could easily outpace Brad in the Multiverse. It felt good to run. It cleared Brad’s mind. For a moment, he imagined himself running without stopping, right past Umka, past the client, and up into the solitary mountains. Only when Umka turned his head did Brad realize he’d nearly overtaken him.
“Let him lead,” Valentin said.
Brad held up a bit. In the beginning, he’d confused the spirit helper. Umka hadn’t been able to concentrate. It’d taken several trips together before they’d even been able to find a client. Up ahead, the forest was getting farther from the shore and coming to an end. Just beyond, Brad could see something. No, it was someone.
There’s the client! Finally, an easy one.
They ran into the narrow clearing and Brad realized it wasn’t a meadow. Instead, the ground sloped down to a frozen river. Cool! This might even be fun. He’d just been about to take a running jump and slide onto the ice when Umka stopped at the edge. The bear had put on the brakes so quickly Brad had to sit down hard in the snow just to keep from running into him.
Gods, what was that about?
Brad scrambled to his feet before Valentin could offer to help. He turned a ferocious glare on Umka. They were supposed to be working as a team.
“He saved you,” Valentin said as his gray wolf slowed to a trot, then patrolled the riverfront.
Brad glowered at him and then the surrounding scene. “From what?” he asked.
On the other side of the frozen river, the young Asian woman simply stood there. For a lost soul, she didn’t seem particularly upset or even lost. Everything seemed fine.
Valentin pointedly gazed at the river. “How does it look to you?”
Look to me? “It’s frozen.”
“Like a shaman, Bradley,” Valentin said with a sigh. “Look at it like a shaman.”
Brad frowned but stole a sideways look at it. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “It’s white.”
Valentin passed him and lightly leapt up to one of
the high, ice-covered boulders that bordered the frozen water. He had no problem keeping his balance.
“Look closer,” Valentin said as he peered down.
Eager to emulate him, Brad hopped along a trail of meandering boulders until they petered out to small cobbles. He was surrounded by the milky, white ice, but all it looked like to him was plain old ice. Wait. Is something moving? He squatted down. Yes, something was moving. The ice, though white, was not quite opaque. Water was flowing underneath. Though he hadn’t been able to see it from shore, the river wasn’t frozen solid.
“You could get there,” Valentin said, nodding toward the client. “But you’d never get her back.”
“So then, cold,” Brad said, standing.
It was always cold. It was his shamanic power. Umka sat on the riverbank. The big old thing never seemed to do more than find the client.
“Yes,” Valentin replied. “Cold.”
“Fine,” Brad said, squatting down again. Enough talk. He stretched his fingertips out to the surface of the ice and touched it. “Cold,” he said.
Though there was the usual delay of several seconds, the ice cracked with a loud, rupturing sound, and Brad pulled his hand back. Fine crazing sped over the surface in all directions. Fracturing and splintering sounds spread with it, but as he watched, the ice became opaque, even whiter, and then took on a slight tinge of blue.
On an impulse, he jumped.
“Bradley!” Valentin screamed.
But Brad landed lightly on the solid surface and slid. Smiling triumphantly, he let himself execute a slow, half turn. The look on Valentin’s face was priceless: fear and consternation but also an irrepressible smirk of pride. Umka paced back and forth on the bank, huffing. Brad skated the rest of the way, pushing with his powerful thighs. He crossed the river in no time and used his momentum to dash up the shallow bank.
Though the young woman’s mouth opened in shock as he ran up to her, he didn’t pause. Instead, he gave a whoop that made her jump, ducked in front of her, and easily picked her up on his shoulder. Like an ancient warrior of the steppes returning with his prize, he ran back down to the river.
“Bradley, no!” Valentin yelled, but it was too late.
No sooner had his boots hit the ice than it cracked.
His legs plunged into the frigid water, and the girl went sprawling on her back. She slid away from him as Brad clutched frantically at the ice around him. He threw his arms out in front of him, scratching and clawing for any hold, but no sooner did his hand land than more ice broke away. Cold like knife blades stabbed into his legs, then his hips, and finally his torso.
“Umka!” Valentin screamed.
Umka? There’s no way the ice is thick enough!
But the giant bear sprang forward and splashed into the water. The ice broke as though it were tissue. Head above the surface, his pancake paws were paddling where Brad couldn’t see them. His thick neck was like the prow of a ship, heading straight for him. And he couldn’t get there fast enough. The hole around Brad widened as he flailed. The leather weighed down his rapidly numbing limbs. His chin dipped into the water. Umka disappeared.
“Umka,” he sputtered. “Umka!”
Where–
The beast’s black muzzle thrust in front of Brad’s face and, with the last bit of strength he had, he threw his arms around the bear’s neck. Umka kept right on paddling, never slowing, breaking the ice all around them as Brad swung himself to the bear’s side. Only Umka’s big, dark eyes looked at him as he changed direction and headed back toward Valentin and his wolf.
His mentor had flattened himself spread eagle on the ice and, with the wolf’s help, was dragging the girl backwards with him. Umka was careful not to approach them.
Brad’s feet finally touched something; then his knees collided with rocks. With awkward steps, arms still around Umka’s neck, they both rose from the water. Brad could hardly move in the drenched leather. He was just able to lift his feet enough so as not to trip. But the giant black bear carried him easily, and soon he collapsed onto his back in the snow. His harsh puffs of breath billowed white in the air above him.
Umka shook the water from his pelt, and Brad turned his face away from the heavy spray. By the time he looked back, Valentin was almost off the river. Brad sat up, scrambled to his feet, and raced over. Though still winded and feeling the effects of the cold, he had to try and help. Valentin was just picking his way through the cobbles and boulders, supporting the girl under the shoulders and dragging her backward as the wolf looked on. Brad took one of her arms. Together, they lifted her at the shoulders and knees. In another few seconds they were at the sloping bank. Brad found the activity was warming his muscles and helping him recover. He took all the client’s weight and lifted her into his arms as Valentin let go.
“I’ve got you,” Brad panted, marching up the embankment. At the top, he set her down in the snow. Her wide eyes stared up at him, but she never said a word. “You’re okay,” he gasped. “Everything’s okay.”
“Good,” Valentin said, coming up behind him. “Very good!”
Though he was still breathing hard, Brad got to his feet. “Really?” he said. “Do you really think so?”
Valentin grinned at him and gave him a fierce hug. “Definitely,” he replied, his fist in Brad’s back, pulling him tight.
Though they always ended with a hug–it was apparently the Russian way–it usually made Brad uneasy, but not today. Valentin looked so pleased. As usual, though, Valentin nearly had to hold Brad up as they continued to hug. Always at the end came the utter, sickening exhaustion–the ache that started between his shoulders, seeped into his core, and sank into his feet. Like the grueling trips through the black lake, Brad would be glad when it didn’t happen anymore. But despite feeling drained, he couldn’t help but smile. The healing had gone well. Even Umka seemed content as he nosed into Brad’s side. But as good as it felt, the success wasn’t really why Brad was happy. There was only one reason he’d become a shaman and only one person whom he needed to please.
If only Livvy were here to see this.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TO LIVVY’S RELIEF, the restaurant was crowded. There didn’t seem to be an empty table. Though Livvy had intended to go to her condo, she’d found herself telling the taxi driver Chinatown. She couldn’t stop rehashing the brief meeting with Ursula. Even now Livvy wasn’t entirely sure what had happened.
The young hostess, smiling and holding a menu, approached Livvy. “Just one?” she asked.
“Actually,” Livvy said. “I’m here to see Wan-li.”
A strange look came over the woman’s face, and Livvy saw her eyes lingering on Livvy’s white hair. Although the hostess glanced at the stairs next to the large aquarium, and Livvy had been ready to follow her, she didn’t move.
“Wait here,” she said abruptly and left before Livvy could reply.
Clutching the menu to her chest, she headed back to the cash register at the edge of the large front room. A patron at one of the tables beckoned to her and then pointed at the soy sauce. She nodded to him and ran her gaze over the other tables. Then she dropped the menu at the register and headed back into the kitchen. The swinging door had barely stopped moving when the hostess came right back out. She brought a full bottle of soy sauce to the man who’d beckoned to her and a plate of fried rice to a different table. Then she left again, without so much as a glance at Livvy.
A few of the diners looked her way. Leaning on the cane, Livvy shifted uncomfortably as she watched the swinging door.
Is Wan-li even here?
Livvy checked the staircase. It was just a few feet away, to the right of the large aquarium. Though it was cordoned off by a small chain, there was no attendant. Unlike the last time she’d been here, no one was escorting clients upstairs. Livvy surreptitiously glanced toward the register and kitchen. There was also no one to stop her from going up. She took a step in that direction, but came to an abrupt stop. Someone was coming down
: someone in flat slippers and an embroidered, green silk gown; someone whose graceful movement she’d recognize anywhere.
“Wan-li,” Livvy said smiling.
To Livvy’s intense relief, Wan-li smiled back. “Olivia,” she said.
With an economy of movement that Livvy had come to expect, Wan-li undid the chain and left it open. Though Livvy had expected to follow her up the stairs, Wan-li instead embraced her briefly–so briefly that Livvy’d barely managed to get her arms up as the resulting spark faded and the hug was over.
“It’s good to see you,” Livvy said anyway.
“And you,” Wan-li said, not moving.
For a moment they stared at one another, but when Livvy understood they wouldn’t be going up the stairs, she realized she was standing too close and backed up.
“What type of tea can I get for you?” Wan-li asked, a bit too loudly.
“Tea?” Livvy asked. “Well–”
“You can take it with you,” Wan-li said, “or I can have it delivered.”
The same dread Livvy had sensed at Ursula’s stirred again.
“Tea,” she said. “I’m not really interested in tea.” She decided to get to the point–rapidly. “I’ve come to talk about shamanism.”
You could have heard a chopstick drop. Though Livvy didn’t turn to see the patrons at their tables, all conversation had stopped. Wan-li laughed lightly, tossing her head, smiling broadly in a way that Livvy had never seen Wan-li do. The tasseled ornament she wore in her hair bun bobbled.
“Oh, Olivia, how you joke,” she said, taking her by the elbow. “I know that you know I do not do that anymore.” Wan-li turned her toward the door. “Only tea.” Wan-li threw her a private glare and Livvy felt Wan-li’s fingers pinch her elbow. “Only tea.”
Shaman, Lover, Warrior: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Book 5) Page 3
