Shaman, Lover, Warrior: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Book 5)

by M. Terry Green

  Yong nodded, though his expression was far from sure. He took a gold-labeled, green glass bottle from the floor near his feet and cracked the screw top open. He hesitated at first but eventually filled the cup. “Here you go, Mom. Your favorite.”

  The table banged loudly. Min shrieked a little, and Yong jumped back. The candles in the corners wobbled, and the plates and bowls of food rattled. Rice wine splashed out of the cup.

  “Get back,” SK said to Yong, pointing to the hallway. Yong promptly retreated to just outside the wide entry.

  The table banged again, but this time it also levitated a few inches off the ground. The candlesticks toppled to the floor, and the memorial tablet fell forward. It flipped the rice wine over, spewing its contents over half the food.

  SK checked with Liv. “Seen enough?” he said.

  “Let’s do it,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  BRAD PRESSED HIMSELF as close to the counter as he could get. Why does he have to stand so close? This whole thing was giving him the creeps. They stood in Valentin’s kitchen, the older shaman looking over his shoulder.

  “And this?” Valentin asked, literally breathing down Brad’s neck.

  Brad wiped sweat from his upper lip using the back of his wrist, trying not to let the latex gloves touch his mouth. He stared hard at the shiny, green beetles. He knew very well what they were, but what should he say? He squinted at them. Was Valentin playing some awful game? Brad hesitated, trying to think, but Valentin was waiting.

  “Spanish flies,” Brad blurted out.

  Valentin cocked his head and slowly shook it. “Not quite,” he said. He paused to see if Brad would venture another guess, but Brad waited him out, his eyes never moving from the paper plate. “They are often called that,” Valentin said, “but they are green beetles.”

  Yeah, yeah, I know, Brad thought. I just want to be done with this.

  When Valentin had suggested it, Brad had nearly melted down. In fact at first, Brad had said no. But when Valentin had insisted, it looked even more suspicious to keep resisting. Brad opened the cabinet up above and reached in for the mortar and pestle.

  “No,” Valentin said. “Too fine.”

  Actually puzzled this time, Brad stopped. In Siberia, he’d taught himself. It never occurred to him there might be more than just following the recipe. Slowly over time, he’d stolen the ancient text and even the ingredients from the shaman who’d first treated him. The old crone had never suspected.

  Valentin pointed at the knife block. “We will make tea. If we grind, they will be too fine. They will slip right through the tea ball.”

  Tea? Brad had never seen this used in tea. He selected the biggest knife–and almost used it–but caught himself. He handed it to Valentin.

  “Oh, no,” Valentin said, pushing the blade away as expected. “It would do no good coming from me. It has to come from your hands.”

  Brad searched his mentor’s flinty eyes. Behind them, tiny, steel flywheels and crankshafts always seemed to be whirring. He looked no different now than he ever did. But Brad couldn’t help but wonder if on some level he suspected.

  Valentin took the lid off the faded and rusty metal tin and inhaled. “And of course we must add tea,” he said.

  “To make it taste good,” Brad said as he started chopping.

  The smell would also help to hide the sweet, earthy odor of the ambergris they’d already prepared.

  “Also to cut the strength,” Valentin said, watching Brad chop the beetles. “The oldest potions are much too potent.”

  Really, Brad thought, though he didn’t dare question Valentin–didn’t dare look at him. He felt the familiar press of Valentin’s hand between his shoulder blades. The muscles there were so rigid with tension that the pressure from Valentin’s fingers was painful. Brad tried to force himself to relax but only succeeded in feeling tired.

  “The most ancient elixirs can be quite dangerous,” Valentin continued. “Particularly this one. The organ itself may be a muscle, but in the world of emotions, especially the most powerful of all, we must tread very carefully.” He peered at the paper plate. “Enough,” he said. “Next, the yohimbe bark.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  IF ANYONE HAD ever told Livvy she’d be relieved to see the black lake of the Middleworld, she’d have told them they were nuts. But as she trotted up the dirt path from the forest and onto the sandy beach, that was exactly what she felt–relief. She paused a moment at its edge and gazed at the reflection of the midday sun. Unlike the mirrored Hopi Underworld or the virtual duplication of the Maya Multiverse, in L.A. there was a transition. Though she’d never realized it before, the Middleworld was a chance to adjust. Even so, she didn’t pause long. SK was sitting by in the real world. Yong and Min were waiting for results.

  In the Underworld, Yong’s mother was waiting too, though Livvy didn’t yet know for what.

  She waded into the cold water. This part she didn’t miss. In moments she was up to her thighs, her waist, then her chest. Then the bottom dropped out. The black water engulfed her, whirling, spinning, and sucking downward. But in no time, she was flying out. The movement was exhilarating. To her astonishment, she’d missed that too. She landed lightly on her feet as the inverted spout of water splashed back into the fountain.

  Up above, clouds already covered the sky and were streaming in the direction of the client, toward Koreatown. Even so, Livvy stopped for a moment to take a look around.

  Home.

  The high-rises of downtown Los Angeles circumscribed her view. Tall, gleaming structures of metal and mirrored glass towered above her. It all seemed so familiar, including the white mountain lion.

  The last time she’d been in her own Multiverse, Livvy only had the one spirit helper–lightning. In the ultra-urban landscape where she actually lived, her new spirit helper seemed strangely wild and even a little out of place. The moment was a bit surreal, but Livvy dropped to one knee and opened her arms. Blanca slowed from a gallop, to a lope, and then to a trot. Even so, she collided with a thud. It was the greeting Livvy had come to expect and now even looked forward to.

  “Blanca,” she said, nuzzling into the downy fur on top of the lion’s big head. Blanca poked her enormous muzzle into Livvy’s middle and purred.

  “That tickles,” Livvy said.

  Thunder rumbled lowly at the horizon, a rolling chain of quiet peals that seemed almost like a voice. Both she and Blanca looked to the south, the direction the clouds were streaming.

  “What do you think of your new home?” Livvy asked as she stood.

  In response, Blanca trotted off.

  “I see,” Livvy said laughing.

  In moments, the two of them were speeding through downtown. As fast as bullets, they easily kept pace with the sky. They zoomed past several ancestor spirits, almost too fast to really register them. The high-rises rapidly gave way to shorter buildings and smaller streets. They blew past strip malls, businesses, restaurants, and Asian markets until the clouds eventually slowed. Livvy recognized Yong’s neighborhood and then his house. There the clouds stopped, like a movie stuck in freeze frame. At Livvy’s side, Blanca halted inches from the front door.

  Unlike the real house, the front door in the Underworld was red. Not that Livvy would have doubted where both her spirit helpers had led her or that she hadn’t already known where Sun-Hi would be. But the red was like a signpost. It was the client’s spirit signaling it wanted to be found. Livvy found that encouraging.

  She opened the door, stepped into the foyer, and called out, “Sun-Hi?”

  Blanca’s ears swiveled, listening for any sound. Livvy surveyed the familiar front room.

  “Sun-Hi?” Livvy tried again, following Blanca into the hallway. “It’s Livvy. Yong sent me.”

  Though there was no reply, Livvy knew they were headed in the right direction. She could hear a distinct rattling, the sound of heavy metal links as they clinked and slid along one another.


  “Sun-Hi,” Livvy said, as she and Blanca entered the dining room.

  Sun-Hi turned a shocked face to Livvy. “You can see me?” she said.

  “Very clearly,” Livvy replied with a smile.

  Sun-Hi raised her manacled wrist, chains swaying chaotically below it, and pointed at the table. “Then get me my wine!” she yelled.

  • • • • •

  The last thing SK wanted to do was interrupt a trip to the Multiverse.

  “SK?” Min asked.

  She’d heard the same thing he had, even from across the room. Yong still stood in the hallway behind him, but even if he’d heard it, he wouldn’t have known what it meant.

  SK nodded in answer to Min, never taking his eyes off Liv’s goggles. They’d started ticking. It was a small sound and regular, but normally the goggles barely hummed. Even so, Liv’s breathing was regular and her pulse had yet to jump. Min had asked Yong to unplug everything. The sockets were clear and there was no sign of electricity–yet.

  SK sat crossed-legged on the carpet, close to Liv’s mat. With her hands resting on her stomach and the padded rim of the goggles completely covering her eyes, she seemed at ease. To a lay observer, she might even look asleep. But SK knew that wasn’t true. He leaned forward, listening.

  As he did, the ticking ramped up. It picked up speed and pitch, spiraling upward. There’d barely been time to be alarmed when, without warning, it stopped. SK scowled, watching Liv intently for any sign. Her midsection pulsed steadily up and down. Her jugular vein throbbed at the same rate. Her skin was free of perspiration. For all the worlds, she looked like she was journeying in the Multiverse. But as he waited for any other sign from the goggles, they remained mute.

  They’re dead. They have to be. The journey ought to be over. For any other techno-shaman that would be true. But SK had seen this once before. When they’d returned to the real world in Guatemala, her goggles had been dead. He’d seen firsthand that her journey hadn’t stopped–far from it.

  Min stood up.

  “Is there a problem?” Yong asked.

  “No,” SK said. So Yong couldn’t see, SK motioned Min to sit back down. “We’re good.”

  Though her expression was questioning, she immediately sat back down. Then her face brightened with a Min smile.

  “Just needed to stand for a sec,” she said to Yong. “The baby doesn’t like sitting.” She gave her stomach an exaggerated rub. “Now we’re all good.”

  SK nodded to her and returned his gaze to Liv. He hoped that was true.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  LIVVY SAW SUN-Hi and the house vanish in a static, white haze, but they instantly returned.

  “What was that?” Sun-Hi asked.

  “It’s not important,” Livvy replied, still smiling at her.

  Blanca apparently had the same question and turned a curious look up to Livvy. The giant lion’s movement drew Sun-Hi’s attention, and she jerked with a start.

  “Oh my,” she muttered, wide eyes staring at Blanca.

  Sun-Hi had been in her early sixties. Her hair was short, thick, and liberally streaked with gray. She wore a conservative black business suit and low heels. A year ago, she’d simply toppled out of her chair in front of the television, the victim of a stroke. She’d died instantly.

  “What is that doing in here?” Sun-Hi said, pointing at Blanca. The movement rattled the chains again and now Sun-Hi noticed them. “What are these for?” Sun-Hi asked, her expression pained and exasperated. “Why is my family doing this to me? Why do they ignore me?”

  Livvy took a breath. Sun-Hi didn’t know she was dead.

  “They’re not ignoring you,” Livvy said. “They can’t see you.”

  “Can’t see me?” she said, indignant. “But I’m standing right here!”

  “True,” Livvy said gently. “But where is here?”

  “In Yong’s house!”

  Livvy shook her head.

  “Yes, it is!” Sun-Hi protested, rattling the chains. “Yes, it is!”

  Livvy shook her head once more and waited.

  Sun-Hi looked around the room. “Yes, it is,” she said, but she wasn’t as insistent. Her eyebrows furrowed and her expression became puzzled. “Isn’t it?”

  “If it was,” Livvy replied, slowly and deliberately. “I wouldn’t be here.” Blanca rubbed up against her leg and Livvy petted her. “My spirit helper wouldn’t be here.”

  Sun-Hi looked down at the white mountain lion and cocked her head. “I don’t understand.”

  Livvy took Sun-Hi’s hand, ignoring the manacle and chains. “It was a stroke,” she said gently. “Very sudden.” Sun-Hi stared at Livvy’s hand. “You were watching TV.”

  Sun-Hi’s hand flew to her temple, the chains yanking and quaking.

  “I had a headache,” she said, frowning, her face confused.

  Livvy took her hand again and waited for Sun-Hi to focus on her. “It was a stroke,” Livvy said quietly. “A bad one. Do you understand what I’m saying? You’re not in Yong’s house.”

  Livvy watched as the truth dawned on Sun-Hi. Although the dazed look cleared, it was followed by one of panic.

  “But…but,” Sun-Hi stammered, gripping Livvy’s hands hard. “I was supposed to–” Sun-Hi looked back to the hallway. “We had to–” She shook her head. “No, I can’t go. Not yet. I–”

  “You’ve already gone,” Livvy said. “It’s already happened.”

  Sun-Hi let go of Livvy and examined her own hands. For a few moments, she looked all around her. In quick succession, she looked at Blanca, then Livvy, and then her own hands again.

  “I’m…dead,” she said in a hushed tone.

  “Yes,” Livvy confirmed, equally quiet. “I’m sorry.”

  For several long moments, Sun-Hi stood in silence. She breathed deeply in and out, seemed not to focus on any one thing. But then she cocked her head at Livvy. “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “Because of these,” Livvy said, picking up the chains.

  “I don’t understand,” Sun-Hi said, staring at them as though she were seeing them for the first time.

  “You haven’t let go,” Livvy said. She picked up one chain of links and held it up. “Love,” she said and then picked up another. “Responsibility,” she said and picked up another. “Fear.” Livvy lowered them back with the others. There were several. “These aren’t chains someone has put on you. They’re of your own making, Sun-Hi, but you have to let go.”

  “Let go?” she said, her face pained. “But I can’t. Don’t you understand? I can’t. There’s so much to do. There’s so much I have to tell them.”

  “I know,” Livvy said. A memory of smiling Leon in the Hopi Underworld returned, and then, without warning, an image of her own mother. “Believe me, I know,” Livvy said lowly. That last goodbye with her mother as she’d inevitably faded away; the pain was as fresh as the day it’d happened. Livvy shook her head. “But it’s not just for you,” she said. “It’s also for your son, for Yong.”

  Sun-Hi gasped. “For Yong?”

  Livvy nodded. “He needs to move on.”

  Sun-Hi grabbed her by both arms. “Not before I tell him something.”

  • • • • •

  In the real world, SK blinked and then had to squint. There was no doubt. Liv was glowing. It had begun the moment the goggles had gone off. Subtle at first, a hazy, white, static shimmer seemed to cover her for a few moments and then disappear. But as the glow kept returning, it lasted longer and grew brighter.

  Min sat frozen, transfixed.

  Without warning, the glow flared, SK glimpsed the carpet through Liv’s translucent body, and her goggles dropped to the floor.

  Gods, what was–

  She sat up, becoming solid again, though a bright film of static overlay her. Then she stood up.

  • • • • •

  In the Multiverse, Livvy saw a translucent version of SK. He stared up at her, his jaw dropped open, his eyes wide. Behind him was a see-
through Yong, peering in from the hallway, half hidden by the solid edge of the doorway. Min was nearly transparent as well and clutching the edges of her chair, though she looked as though she might bolt any second. Livvy bent and picked up the goggles.

  • • • • •

  In the real world, SK felt rooted to the carpet and could only stare. But as Liv handed him her goggles, he automatically reached out to take them.

  “Here, SK,” she said. “We don’t need these.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “SUN-HI,” LIVVY said. “Yong is here. What do you want to tell him?”

  Startled, Sun-Hi turned in every direction, and her chains rattled around her legs.

  “Where?” she pleaded. “I don’t understand.”

  “You can’t see him,” Livvy said, taking her hand. “But I can. And he sees me. In fact, he’s listening to me now.”

  “Oh, I wish I could see him,” Sun-Hi said, still searching.

  “I know,” Livvy said, “and one day you will, but not today.”

  Without any reference, Yong had no clue this was out of the ordinary, but he was clearly petrified. Though Blanca had taken a seat, Livvy was glad he couldn’t see her.

  “Yong,” Livvy said. “I’m here with your mother. You can’t see her and she can’t see you, but I see and hear you both.”

  He looked stricken and moved a little further back into the hallway.

  Okay, Livvy thought. The conversation won’t be starting with him. But she didn’t have to wait long.

  “Tell him I’m sorry I missed my granddaughter’s birthday,” Sun-Hi said.

  Ah, an important date. So often fatally ill people managed to survive long enough to see a last birthday or anniversary. Sun-Hi, though, had been taken very much by surprise.