Though Colin was silent, he placed an arm protectively around Min’s shoulders. SK noted Colin’s tight grip and a new stony set to his face. A deep frown turned Colin’s mouth into a crease.
Yong tentatively approached the jesa table. Liv stood as he set the little ring, the lid of the box still open, in front of the toppled memorial tablet and righted it.
“It’s very pretty,” Liv said, as she used the handkerchief to wipe her eyes.
“It’s more than that,” Min said. “It’s a really big deal.”
“The gold ring means long life,” Yong said. “But not many people give it any more.”
“It’s very traditional,” Min said. “But it’s so expensive.”
“She must have been saving,” Yong said, glancing back at it.
“No wonder it was important to her,” SK said quietly.
“But,” Yong said, looking at each of them in turn, “she’s gone now, right?”
“Right,” Liv said. “She’s moved on.”
“And that’s what we’re going to do,” Colin said. He was already ushering Min to the front door.
She only had a moment to glance over her shoulder. “Thank–,” she started, and then she was gone.
“So,” Yong said, “about the walls.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
IN HIS OWN kitchen, Brad set the tin of tea bags on the counter.
“Tea,” he scoffed.
Sometimes he had to wonder about Valentin. If you’re going to do a thing, do it right. That’s what his father always said. Brad had been about to open the refrigerator but paused. It wasn’t often he thought of his parents. Sometimes though, he missed them. He shook it off. They hadn’t believed in him. The old crone in Siberia hadn’t thought he was a shaman and they’d believed her, not him.
“They’ll see,” he muttered.
He opened the refrigerator. All the way in the back was a small amber bottle topped by an eyedropper. It didn’t need to be refrigerated, but in here, it was safe from prying eyes. He grasped the cool glass and headed to the bedroom. He set it on top of the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. He rummaged in the back as he checked the time on the alarm clock. He had an hour. As his fingers found the small box, he glanced around the bedroom. There was still plenty of time to shove all the dirty clothes in the closet. He removed the white box and took off the lid.
The pearly, lavender luster of the charoite pendant gleamed against the white cotton batting. He picked it up by the delicate, flat gold chain and smiled.
It’ll look so good on her.
Though he laid the pendant back in the box, he made sure to place it face down. He spread the chain out on the dresser top next to it. Carefully, he unscrewed the eyedropper, squeezed the rubber bulb, and withdrew the glass tip. The last thing he wanted was to spill any or get some on himself.
That’d be funny.
The tiny bead of clear liquid bobbled as he lowered it to the back of the pendant. But as it came into contact with the stone, it spread. There was no oiliness and, in moments, not even any sign of it. There was just the slightest sweet, earthy aroma mixed with cedar wood and a hint of ginseng. Brad reinserted the dropper into the bottle, turned the cap once and paused. One drop was all that was needed, but if one was good… He drew more potion into the dropper and added another couple drops to the pendant.
Satisfied, he screwed the dropper down tight. Picking up the chain and careful not to let the back of the stone touch anything else, he set it in the box, face up.
“The oldest potions are the most powerful,” Brad said, mimicking Valentin.
The old man had no idea.
CHAPTER THIRTY
LIVVY HESITATED BEFORE knocking on the door–her old door.
If ever there was an evening when she could have just decompressed with SK, this was it. She’d nearly cancelled from the curb. Though the Multiverse journey for Min’s client hadn’t particularly been taxing, the emotional fallout had caught Livvy off guard. SK had driven quickly through the strange web of yellow lines and the vertigo she’d come to expect. As she’d collected herself, he’d urged her to call off seeing Brad.
“I still think it’s best if you reschedule,” SK had said.
She’d have liked nothing better. But they both knew the grid that only she could see and the disorientation that only she could feel were somehow connected to this spot. Plus, she’d promised Brad’s parents she’d find out what was going on.
From inside the apartment, the aroma of dinner cooking and the sounds of light jazz drifted out together. Livvy took a deep breath and knocked.
Brad’s smiling face greeted her almost immediately. Had he been waiting next to the door?
“Livvy!” he exclaimed and for a moment she was worried he might pick her up again. Instead it was a normal hug, but there was also a bright spark. Brad backed up a little and frowned. “Does that happen all the time?” he asked.
“All the time,” she said, actually glad about it for a change.
But it didn’t stop him from pulling her inside and giving her a quick peck on the cheek before he let her go. As he closed the door, she was struck again by how much he’d changed. The smell of his distinct cologne hung in the air. He held a dishtowel and was drying his hands.
“The pork chops are done,” he said, grinning. “I’ve just tossed the salad.” He seemed about to dash back to the kitchen when he paused. “You look great.”
Brad had obviously dressed up for the evening. The shaman outfit he’d been wearing yesterday had been replaced by a crisp white dress shirt, a navy blazer, and dark slacks. He’d also put something in his blond hair to slick it back a little. She could see a thick gold chain in the V of his shirt, which he’d left open a couple of buttons. She’d come straight from Yong’s and had purposely not dressed for a date. But as he beamed at her, his eyes glowing, she felt her face flush hot. There was no sign of Valentin Vankeev and the table was obviously set for two. She needed to put a stop to this right now.
“Brad,” she said, “I’m sorry to be abrupt, but I’d like to meet Valentin.”
Though Brad’s smile flickered for an instant, it was almost as though he hadn’t heard her.
“I’ve just made some tea,” he said, turning to the kitchen. “I think you’ll like it.” She scowled a little and cocked her head at his back. That hadn’t exactly been the reaction she’d expected. “It’s from the old country,” he said, tossing the dishtowel on the edge of the sink. “Siberian ginseng.”
As he passed the table, she noticed two red candles burning.
“Brad,” she said.
But before she could continue, he had thrust a warm mug into her hand. “I don’t drink alcohol,” he said a bit sheepishly.
“Well, I don’t either but–”
“You see!” he said. His blue eyes were bright and staring hard into hers. “Something else we have in common.” He toasted her with his cup and took a sip. “It’s something I brought from Siberia,” he said. “Please try it.” She sighed a little. He wasn’t going to make this easy. “Please,” he repeated. “It’s just tea.” He took another sip of his and arched his eyebrows at her.
Prolonging the evening would only be unkind, but Brad had obviously gone to a lot of work. He seemed to be hanging on the smallest sign from her. She could at least try the tea, say it was good, and then insist he call Vankeev.
She lifted the cup to her nose and inhaled. What a strange aroma. She could smell the ginseng, of course, but something else as well. There was a hint of something floral and something that reminded her of the woods. She took a sip, aware of Brad watching her intently.
“Would you like some honey?” he asked. “I wanted you to taste it without first.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s fine like this.”
The flavor was as complex as the fragrance. It was tasty–very tasty. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, it actually tingled on the back of her tongue. She stared down into the cup. Sh
e hadn’t smelled any mint, but was there just a hint of it? She took another sip.
“I’ve got plenty,” he said, heading back to the kitchen. “You should take some with you.”
“Siberian ginseng,” she muttered before taking another drink. Maybe she would take some with her. It was good. She inhaled the aroma deeply again. “What else is in this?”
He looked at her over his shoulder as he stirred something in a tall pot on the stove. His smile was absolutely infectious, and she found herself smiling back.
“A little of this,” he said. “A little of that. I’m glad you like it.”
‘Like it’ was an understatement. She sighed again but this time with contentment. It felt good to unwind a little. She tilted her head left and right and her neck popped in response. The candlelight was soothing too.
As Brad kept himself busy at the stove, Livvy drifted past the old couch, sipping her tea. The end table was the same too, but he’d added a set of Russian dolls. She smiled at their little round faces. Next to the table in the corner of the room, was a tall, matte black pedestal, and on top of it was the glass sculpture that Brad had called moldavite. It was incredible, like the ocean frozen in the act of churning. It was a deep olive green, knobbed and pitted, and almost seemingly alive. A spotlight from the ceiling illuminated it, and in the otherwise dim lighting, it was the center of attention. About a foot high and roughly cylindrical, it rested in an ancient metal case.
Without thinking, Livvy reached out a finger and lightly touched it.
For an instant, wild vertigo threatened to topple her over. She jerked back her hand with a gasp.
“Don’t touch that!” Brad yelled.
She backpedaled and thumped into his chest, jarring the tea from her hand.
“Oh my gods,” she exclaimed, trying to catch it, but missing it by a fraction. It hit the carpet but miraculously didn’t shatter. Luckily she’d drunk almost all of the tea. She bent to pick it up. “I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “I was–”
Brad took the mug from her. “It’s fine,” he said, calmly. “Don’t worry about it.”
Though she’d meant to run for a napkin or a paper towel to dry the few drops that had spilled, she stopped herself. Don’t worry, he said. Right. Don’t worry. His intensely blue eyes weren’t worried. Why should she worry? She watched him as he placed the cup on the end table. But beyond him was the glass sculpture.
“Brad,” she said. “The sculpture. I touched it and–”
“Here,” he said, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. “I was going to save this until later but maybe now would be better.”
He took out a small, white box and presented it to her. “I got this for you,” he said lowly.
“You what?” she said, staring down at it. This was something she hadn’t planned on.
“Just a little something from the old country,” he said. “It’s actually the only place you can get it.” He took off the lid. Inside, lay a necklace. Though purple, Livvy knew the stone wasn’t amethyst. It was shaped like a teardrop and its luster was smooth and pearly. “Charoite,” he said. “From the Chara River.” He picked it up by the chain and let the pendant dangle between them. “I thought it suited you,” he said, smiling.
It did, actually. She watched as his fingers delicately undid the clasp.
“May I?” he said, moving behind her.
Alarm bells went off in the back of her mind. None of this was going as planned. She’d come here to…to… She couldn’t quite remember. From behind her, he reached his arms over her head, holding out the glinting jewelry.
What could it hurt? It seemed to mean so much to him. Livvy swung her hair aside and held it out of the way.
He brought the pendant to her until it lay coolly in the dip between her collarbones. The chain tugged slightly at the side of her neck, and then he released it. As the pendant dropped a couple more inches and slid down to the full length of the chain, Livvy let her hair go. At the last second, Brad’s fingers grazed the back of her neck.
His touch was electric. Her heart leapt into her throat. As she spun away from him, she put a hand over her chest to still the sudden pounding. The room was too hot. He was too close. But the faded wood and earth scent of his cologne was wonderful, and his eyes were the most perfect shade of blue. She realized with a start that she’d stepped toward him, and he was leaning into her.
“Water,” she gasped.
He stopped. “Water?” he asked.
“I need a glass of water,” she said, trying to buy herself some time.
Gods, what is going on?
In her mind’s eye, SK’s face flashed in front of her. A deep pang of guilt lanced through her so suddenly and so fiercely that she nearly had to groan.
“Maybe you should sit down,” Brad said.
Livvy shook her head. “I have to go,” she breathed, backpedaling unsteadily to the door.
“But you haven’t eaten,” Brad protested, pursuing her.
But as her back hit the door, she held out her hand between them. “Please,” she said. She tried to swallow in a dry throat. “I’m going to go.”
Behind her, her hand found the knob and twisted it.
“At least take some tea,” he said, as she opened the door.
“No,” she said. “I…I can’t.”
Her chest was heaving now, and the knob was slick in her sweaty grasp. She backed into the hallway.
“Next time, then,” Brad was saying from the doorway as she lurched toward the stairwell.
“Next time,” she said over her shoulder, not daring to look back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
SK CHECKED THE time again. Where is Liv?
He glanced at the shopping bag he’d left next to the front door. It bulged with new bottles of syrup, every flavor he could find. He’d dropped her off over an hour ago–though he hadn’t been happy about it–and even had time to shop. She was going to call when she was ready and then he would pick her up.
How long did it take to say mum and dad wanted their little boy home?
SK stopped himself. He held the flap of his messenger bag in one hand and the extra batteries in the other. That’s not really fair. Brad had a crush on Liv, true, but it was hardly his fault. He lifted the canvas flap up but stopped himself again. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. As he stuffed the batteries in the bag, he blew out an exasperated breath.
He checked his phone again. Where is she?
He went to the kitchen to get a bottle of water for the bag. Then he’d need some extra aspirin and tissues. It was strange to think of working as an intercessor without Liv. It was doubly strange to think it’d be Dominique. But maybe it was the start of turning the tide. He grabbed a water bottle from the slide-out pantry.
His phone finally rang and it was her.
“Liv,” he said. “I was starting to get worried. I’m leaving now.”
“No,” she said. “I’m home.”
“Home?”
“I took a taxi.”
“What? Why didn’t you call?”
For a few moments there was silence on the other end of the line.
“I just wanted to…leave,” she said.
He set the bottle back in the pantry.
“Liv, are you okay? Did something happen?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Nothing happened. Nothing.” He heard her sigh. “I’m going to go to bed,” she said.
“Wait,” he said. “What happened? Did you see Brad’s mentor?”
“Oh no,” she said, sounding shocked. “I totally forgot.”
He nearly stared at the phone. “You forgot?” he managed to say.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said. She sounded flabbergasted. “Gods. It just totally slipped my mind.”
“But that was the whole point,” SK said, as his stomach curled into a tight ball. “Right?”
“Right,” she said. “Yes, of course.”
He waited for an explanation, but the
re was only silence on the other end. He checked his phone to see if they still had a connection.
“Look,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Of course she’d see him tomorrow. He hadn’t realized there was any doubt.
“Sure,” he said, suddenly tense. “After the healing.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. There was a pause. “Goodnight then.”
Goodnight so soon? She didn’t sound tired, but he couldn’t get a read on her mood. He needed to see her face. But–he took a deep breath and tried to unclench his jaw–that wouldn’t be happening tonight.
“Goodnight, Liv,” he said.
“Goodnight,” she said again and then hung up.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“BUT WE’RE NOT even out of them yet,” Min protested.
She held up a half bag of the after dinner mints for Colin to see. Though she’d never been fond of sweets, an intense craving for the little, pastel pillows of buttery, mint goodness had started in her second trimester.
Colin pulled on his hoodie. Ever since they’d gotten up, he’d been a man on a mission.
Actually, Min thought, ever since Yong’s house. Ever since I told him about the tunnel vision.
He’d insisted she stay in bed and brought her breakfast. Then he’d done all the laundry, moving so fast even Nacho had paused to watch. Now it was the grocery store–not that they really needed anything.
“You put everything on the list?” Colin asked, glancing around the bedroom from the door.
“Yes,” Min replied dutifully.
“You need anything before I go?”
“No.”
“Okay,” he said, taking his keys out of his pants pocket–and then he was gone.
No goodbye. No peck on the cheek. Min glanced at Nacho, who sat on the bed next to her feet. Then they both looked at the empty door. She heard Colin bounding down the stairs to the garage. It was only then she saw it.
Shaman, Lover, Warrior: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Book 5) Page 11
