• • • • •
Dominique followed Nicole into one of the enormous downtown high-rises. She’d let Livvy pick it. As they moved through the revolving glass door, her raven clucked quietly. No doubt her spirit helper wasn’t pleased to be heading inside, but Nwa perched patiently on her shoulder. In the glass partition behind them, Livvy’s white mountain lion stayed by her side, though it barely fit.
As they exited, Nwa took noisy flight. With a piercing caw, he beat his huge wings in rapid succession and sailed over the top of Nicole’s head. The lobby, though narrow, was maybe two stories tall inside. Banks of elevators lined an entire long wall. The expansive, gleaming counter was empty. The polished, white marble floor echoed. Dominique could hear the claws of the giant cat behind her.
“Though I navigate a downtown Underworld,” Livvy said, “I doubt the Siberian shamans do the same.”
Dominique smirked. “Just wait,” she said over her shoulder.
Nwa took up a perch on a large, downward-pointing light fixture high above the elevators. Nicole passed them, heading to the end–a dead end. Before she reached it, she produced the paintbrush. As often as Dominique had seen it, she still didn’t understand where it came from. Unlike the brushes Nicole used in the real world, it was big, like the kind you’d use to paint a house, except there was no paint. She began to work as soon as she was within reach of the brown marble wall.
Dominique, Livvy, and the white mountain lion came to a stop a few feet behind her. Though Livvy cocked her head, she didn’t say anything. She just watched in what appeared to be rapt fascination. Dominique grinned. For her part, Nicole never looked up until she was done. Under the wide brush–moving rapidly up and down and then right and left–a multicolored image appeared. Unlike the surreal, glowing paintings she did in the real world, here Nicole painted with a realism that was…well, real.
On the marble wall, a dilapidated, wooden door jam was taking shape and, through it, the plaza where they’d just been. The tall buildings rose out of view and the empty sidewalk ran left and right just in front of them. Nicole crouched as low as she could and painted all the way to the floor. In a few more moments, she was done and stood aside.
In the center of the image was the fountain: the water sparkling in the sun and moving. Livvy shot a look at Dominique and returned her stare to the painting. “Amazing,” she said.
“No,” Dominique said. “This is the amazing part.” She looked up to her spirit helper. “Nwa,” she called.
The raven tipped forward from its perch and dropped like a stone. Wings furled, he plummeted directly at them. Though Livvy might not have experience with ravens, she made no move. Nicole already knew what to expect. At the last instant, he shaped himself into a triangle, banked steeply above the floor, and rushed past them. In a blink, he was through the door and in the plaza. He spread his wings to stop at the fountain and perched on its stone lip. When he cawed, they heard it in stereo: from the door in front of them and the revolving glass door behind them.
Nicole walked through and stepped onto the sidewalk.
“Incredible,” Livvy whispered.
“After you,” Dominique said.
Without hesitation, Livvy and her mountain lion followed Nicole, and Dominique followed them. The three of them stood together on the sidewalk. And though Livvy looked behind her, Dominique knew what she would see: nothing. There would be no remnant of their passageway. It was simply the side of the building.
“That is amazing,” Livvy said to Nicole. “No. You’re amazing.” The white mountain lion curled around Livvy’s thighs and she stroked the top of its head absent-mindedly. “Are you sure you’re not a shaman?”
Nicole raised her hands and shrugged. “No spirit helper?”
Dominique watched her sister carefully. Although Nicole looked fine, time was wasting.
“The point,” Dominique said, “is that we have an exit. No matter what the Underworld looks like.”
“No matter where we are,” Nicole agreed.
“So you could paint another door right here?” Livvy asked.
“Not a problem,” Nicole replied.
But in that instant, Dominique knew there was a problem. Her sister had just begun to turn away, probably to start a new painting, when her eyes cast a sideways glance. It was as though she were listening to something. Without warning, she disappeared. She simply popped out of existence.
Livvy took a half step back and glanced around as the mountain lion wound a tight circle around her.
Dominique clenched her jaw. Dammit.
CHAPTER FORTY
IN THE REAL world, Livvy dabbed a paper towel at her nosebleed. She’d forgotten what it was like to be tracked in the Multiverse. Ursula had called the vodun statue an nkondi ‘of the air,’ altogether appropriate for a lightning shaman, but its lingering effects were in her head. Livvy rubbed her temples a little as the headache ebbed.
Dominique had moved the canvas cot out of the way and thrown the yoga mat on top of it. The three of them now stood watching Nicole paint. According to SK, she’d simply removed her goggles, dropped them to the floor, and picked up her palette and brush.
“We can do this,” Dominique said. She glanced at Nicole, who was oblivious.
“Does that happen every time?” SK demanded.
“No,” Dominique said quickly, shaking her head. “No, definitely not.”
But her denial was too vehement. SK must have heard it too. “I see,” he said, his face sour. “And were you planning on mentioning it? Or was it meant to be a surprise?”
“Look,” Dominique said. “She’s getting better. She can help.” She turned to Livvy. “You saw her. You saw what she can do.”
SK didn’t wait for Livvy to answer. “Nicole is unstable in the Multiverse,” he said. “Period. I’ve seen it a million times.”
“You what?” Dominique asked, looking dumbfounded.
“Among apprentices,” SK said.
Livvy turned away and surreptitiously rubbed her chest. What had begun as a feeling of tightness was now becoming a sharper and deeper pain–each time she looked at SK.
“It’s not uncommon,” he continued, “among shamans who just don’t have the Multiverse power. Neither of you have that problem.”
“She’s getting better,” Dominique said. “Sometimes she stays all the way through.”
“Even if she could stay for the duration,” SK countered. “We’re talking about two techno-shamans against, what, hundreds?”
“Well we have to do something!” Dominique yelled.
“And we will,” Livvy said, turning back to them.
Subconsciously, they had all surrounded Nicole.
“If we can control the entrance and exit,” Livvy said, “even if for a short time, even if only sometimes, we’ll disrupt them.
“It’s too risky,” SK said.
“There’s no way to avoid risk, SK,” Livvy said, the ache doubling in her chest at the sound of his name. “We’re…past that.”
Now he turned away from her. She exhaled with relief.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he said, stalking over to the nkondi. He picked it up. “How will you track the Siberian shamans?”
Inside the mirrored belly of this nkondi was a lock of Livvy’s hair. Something personal from the other shamans would be necessary, the more personal the better: hair, fingernails, something worn next to the skin.
“I’ll take care of that,” Livvy said, almost through clenched teeth. “I can get into the Institute and out.”
“I’ll work with Nicole,” Dominique said, and then she looked expectantly at SK.
He looked as though he’d been backed into a corner. His mouth was grimly set. Deep furrows lined his forehead. His amber eyes were downcast and shadowed as he stared at the nkondi in his hands. Eventually, he lowered it to the floor and set it down with a hollow thunk. Then he stood with hands on hips, his glare fixed on it. For a moment, Livvy thought he might ki
ck it. Instead, he took a deep breath.
“I’ll see what I can do about bettering the odds,” he said. “We’ll need all the help we can get.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
VALENTIN STOOD ASIDE so the shaman inside the elevator could exit. In her silk robes and cap, she’d probably just been working on the fourth floor. Now she was likely going to her apartment on the third floor. All shamans who worked at the Institute were required to live there as well. Though most thought it was a benefit of the job, Valentin knew better. There were fewer questions once the shamans were separated from their families.
The rotund woman began to exit, but when she saw who waited, she paused, remaining inside. “Director Vankeev,” she said. “May I beg a word?”
“No,” he said simply, stepping inside. Valentin had been on his way to see Bradley, their usual session. He was on his private time. Still, he held the door for her. “You may see me tomorrow during office time.”
She glanced into the hallway and wrung her hands in front of her. Where she found a robe to fit her, he didn’t know. Maybe that’s why it was so worn. Not even the yellow silk of it seemed to shine. The white hem was dirty and tattered. The silk knot fasteners were stretched tight across the front. She was positively round. Her Mongolian features were distended in her circular, flat face.
“But–”
“Tomorrow,” he said, impatiently.
She retreated to a back corner of the elevator.
He tilted his head. Have it your way, he thought. She could ride in the elevator indefinitely for all he cared. He released the door and pressed the button for the third floor.
“It’s about the intercessor,” she said, barely audible.
Valentin sighed in consternation, but as her words registered he frowned. “What intercessor?” he demanded.
The story spilled out. She’d just treated a Vietnamese woman who’d suffered from soul possession. Some other shaman–someone outside who was obviously still working–had brought an intercessor with her and a dwarf at that. The elevator stopped at the third floor and the doors opened. Valentin ignored them.
It had to be the Lightning Shaman’s intercessor. What was his name? SK?
The doors slid closed.
“And this shaman,” Valentin said. “Was it the Lightning Shaman?”
The woman shook her head, grinning. “No. Her name was Dominique Durand.”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
SK DUCKED UNDER the chain and marched up the stairs, aware that the hostess had seen him from behind the cash register. For a moment, she looked like she would chase him down. But apparently she thought better of it in front of the customers. He wouldn’t be waiting for Wan-li to admit him, and he wouldn’t be giving her the opportunity to escort him to the sidewalk. At least there wasn’t an army of guards any more. He strode past the life-sized statues that lined the short hallway in front of the round office doors. Their forbidding faces seemed to glare at one another, and SK noted that the black sand in the incense holders in front of them was clean. No incense had burned there for some time. He gave a quick double rap on the door and went through.
Wan-li stood in front of the circular window behind her desk.
“I will call you back,” she said as she reached up to the wireless earbud. It emitted a single beep as she removed it. She tossed it on the gleaming teak desk. “Your time among the Nahual has made you rude, Master of Animals.”
Ursula had already turned him away without a hearing. The big man at the door downstairs had refused to move, and the trip had been a waste of time. He wouldn’t squander more here.
“If I were making a social call, I’d worry,” he said. “But I’m here for business.”
He’d decided before he arrived that this would be his tack. He hadn’t even had to think about it. Wan-li was all about business. The fact that she had managed to survive at all, so close to Little Odessa, was testament to that. As expected, he’d piqued her interest and her thin eyebrows arched.
“I’m putting together a team of techno-shamans,” he said, stopping in front of her desk. “Liv and Dominique will be at the center.”
“Oh!” she said laughing. “For a moment I thought you were serious.” She took a seat at her desk. “Unless you have a cheaper source for rice, we are done.”
“There’s no reason your business can’t be what it was,” he said. “Maybe even better now that so much of your competition has gone away.”
“I see,” she said, making herself comfortable in the swivel chair. “It would be a network of…what? Three? Ursula would not even see you.”
SK smirked. As always, Wan-li had her sources. “She’ll see me,” he bluffed. “Bad timing.”
He noticed her gaze lingering on his eyes. She nodded a little, as though granting he might be telling the truth.
“Frankly,” she said. “I am surprised Dominique would work with you–again. After what happened in San Pedro?”
His smirk disappeared.
Wan-li chuckled. “What good is news if it is old?” she asked.
“It’s not just Dominique,” he said. “Liv is part of the network. You could do worse than ally with the Lightning Shaman, as you know.”
“You could do worse as well,” Wan-li said. “Assuming you can even work with anyone else.” She narrowed her eyes and peered at him. “Though I suspect you can’t.”
SK didn’t reply, just returned her stare.
“Yes,” she said. She shook her head. “An intercessor for one. What good are you to me? You made your choice, Water Baby. Even in the beginning, it was clear. I warned you then.”
“Is that what this is?” SK asked, hands clenching in his pockets. “You want an ‘I told you so’ moment?” She smiled smugly at him but didn’t reply. “Your time with Little Odessa has made your mind dull, former shaman,” he said.
Her hands flew to the armrests of her chair, and she looked as though she’d spring out of it. But she caught herself and folded her hands in her lap.
He headed for the door. “If you decide to think about business, let me know. If there’s any to be had when the Lightning Shaman and Dominique have had their say. I’ll leave you to your deep thoughts on the price of rice.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
LIVVY LEANED AGAINST the couch and swallowed past the nausea. The lobby of the Institute wobbled in front of her and tried to spin to the right.
Again?
She’d left the yellow grid outside–virtually ran through it. The vertigo had been strong, but brief. Yet now, here it was again. One of the readers in the sitting area glanced over the top of her book. Livvy opened her messenger bag and took out a bottle of water.
Something has changed.
She took a sip, not that it helped.
Why here? Why now?
It was hard enough. From the moment she’d thought of the Institute, she’d thought of Brad. It’d be so easy just to knock on his door. She let her hand drift to the pendant again. He’d be so happy to see her. I’d be happy to see him. She smiled at the thought–and caught herself.
Gods, no. She forced herself to let go of the necklace. That is not why I’m here.
She capped the water, jammed it into the bag, and pushed away from the couch. She ignored the twinge in her hip. She’d left the cane, not wanting to be encumbered by it. Get to the shamans. Get upstairs. One measured step after another, she headed to the receptionist. Though Livvy had never been on a ship, she imagined a rolling deck. Carefully she threaded her way from one point of contact to the next: chairs, walls, a display table, and finally the counter. The vertigo was less here–not gone, but much less. She found she could stand up straight.
Although the receptionist looked up expectantly, Livvy didn’t pause. She picked up her feet, trying not to shuffle.
“I’m here to see Brad Belcourt,” Livvy said. “I know the way.”
As she waited at the elevator, Livvy found her hand on the pendant. Get to the shamans. Dominique is wa
iting. The plan won’t work without the nkondi. The elevator arrived. There was no one inside. At the elevator panel, her finger hovered over the number three–the floor where Brad lived. The button loomed huge. She could hardly avoid it. But at the last moment she did. She hit the fourth floor button and leaned heavily against the wall. She gripped the necklace so hard the chain bit into her neck. But this time, she couldn’t let it go.
• • • • •
“What is she doing there?” Sidirov demanded.
He’d arrived mad. Upstairs, where he ought to be, two players had just bowed out of the high stakes game, one of them the judge.
“I don’t know, Boss,” the guard said. “That’s why I called.” He read a note on the desk in front of him. “The receptionist said she was going to see Brad Belcourt.”
Sidirov narrowed his eyes and watched the Lightning Shaman. “Oh really,” he said.
In case she hadn’t noticed, Brad didn’t live in the shaman stalls. He didn’t even work there. Sidirov considered for a moment and was suddenly reminded of Valentin’s report. He scanned the wall of flickering screens.
“Any sign of the dwarf?” he asked.
“No, Boss. Definitely not.”
Sidirov relaxed a little. “Hmph,” he said.
One of the monitors at the upper right caught his attention. The coroner was removing another body–a bulky one. Though he pursed his lips, he said nothing. Such deaths, Valentin had informed him, were the risks of healing work. He returned his attention to the Lightning Shaman. He scowled and leaned closer.
“What is she doing?” he muttered.
She had paused near an open stall and was looking inside.
When is Valentin going to do something about her?
“Should I escort her off the premises?” the guard asked as he stood.
The Lightning Shaman glanced up at the security camera as though she had heard him. The hair on the back of Sidirov’s neck stood on end. He put a hand on the guard’s shoulder and pushed him back into his seat.
Shaman, Lover, Warrior: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Book 5) Page 14
