“I’ll show you out,” Colin said.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
THE SECOND HE recognized Livvy’s ring tone, Brad grabbed the remote and muted the TV. He’d fallen asleep with the game on. As he reached for his cell on the coffee table, his back twinged. His whole body felt a little stiff. He must not have moved at all. He stared at Livvy’s name on the small screen, his thumb hovering over the answer button. He didn’t want to look desperate. But before it could ring a third time, he answered.
“Livvy,” he gushed.
“Brad,” she said. “Hi. I hope I’m not calling too late.”
“No!” he said. His normally deeper voice suddenly piping. He cleared his throat. “I mean, no. Definitely not.”
“Okay,” she said. “Good.”
Her voice sounded odd.
“Hey,” he said. “Are you in trouble?” Images of picking her up from jail flashed into his mind, as did the kiss in the car. “I can come get you.”
He turned off the TV.
“No,” she said. “I’m not in trouble.” There was a pause. “But thanks. And thanks again for picking me up last night.”
He grinned. She really sounded grateful and also kind of relaxed. It was like a regular conversation–like boyfriend and girlfriend.
“I’d do anything for you,” he said. “You know that, right?” He could picture her smiling and it was gorgeous.
“Well, that’s kind of why I’m calling.”
“What?” he said. “Just name it. I’m serious.”
She laughed a little, a beautiful, musical sound.
“I’ve never seen you work,” Livvy said. “I’d really like to see that. Maybe even meet your mentor.”
Brad jumped up off the couch, all the aches and pains disappearing.
“That’d be great!” he said. “I’ll get him. We can be ready by the time you get here. When are you leaving?”
“Brad,” she said softly. “It’s nearly midnight.”
He checked the clock on the stove. “Oh,” he said, deflating a little. “Right.”
“How about tomorrow morning?”
He perked up again. “Sure,” he said. “That’d be great.”
• • • • •
Wan-li stood before the antique cabinet. It was showing its age. The brass knobs on the upper doors were heavily patinaed. The deep red lacquer had worn off the corners and sharp edges. The small lattice screens that protected the upper cupboard from curious eyes had bowed inward. Each one was decorated with a swirling, circular dragon, clutching the pearl of wisdom in its claw. The ancient piece of furniture had been in her family for centuries.
But Wan-li had no children to whom she would pass it on. Yes, there were the children of her sisters, and they would care for it as well as she had.
But when I am gone, no one will light incense for me.
She opened the small fretwork doors. On thin tablets of wood, hung in the very back of the interior, were calligraphed the names of her parents and grandparents. From the larger cabinet below, she withdrew the incense and matches. She planted them in the bowl of black sand, arranging the long, delicate sticks of jasmine in no particular order. Then she lit them. Hands in front of her chest, palms pressed together, she meditated a moment on the names.
It was good to commune with them. Though she ought to beseech them for blessings and beg them to accept her offerings, it was the events of the day that occupied her thoughts–images of Ursula and the remnants of the fire. Though she and her business had taken damage, Wan-li had escaped lightly.
But tomorrow, that will change.
The odds of the looming battle were hardly odds. Odds would imply a contest. Her eyes focused on the name plaques in the back. Tomorrow, the very real possibility existed that she might not just commune with her ancestors. She might join them.
As Wan-li bowed her head and closed her eyes, she gently smiled.
So be it.
• • • • •
Ursula finished taping the fresh bandage and dropped the white roll into the first aid kit. She’d just been about to turn off the light when she caught her reflection in the mirror. She peered at it hard.
When did Ursula get so old?
Not that she didn’t look good. She turned sideways to see her slim form. But good wasn’t the same as young. She leaned closer to the mirror. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes were fanning out. The big creases around her mouth had smaller ones. She pushed back before she could see any more, and her arm throbbed at the too quick movement. It was time to put it back in the sling.
As she gave herself one last look, she noticed the bright pink head wrap and then the white bandage. They clashed; she noted with a smirk. She should have used a pink bandage to match. But rather than imagine pink, her mind drifted to another time and a place that was very far away. She remembered a bandana and bandage that had matched, but only of necessity. They’d been camouflage. She stared at the mirror, seeing them.
Though the thought had caught her by surprise, she felt a familiar flutter in her stomach.
The butterflies before battle.
Ursula grimaced. She had never cared for the waiting, and now she knew there would be no sleep.
But there was one thing she could do in preparation. She reached up to the pink head wrap.
• • • • •
Dominique poured the pills directly from the multi-day pillbox into Nicole’s waiting mouth. She stood in front of the easel with brush and palette in hand, her painting paused in mid-stroke.
“Tomorrow is important,” Dominique said, opening the water bottle and lifting it to Nicole’s open mouth. “You should go to sleep.” Nicole gulped the water loudly and resumed painting before she’d finished swallowing. Dominique replaced the cap.
Dominique checked the network boxes one more time. It wasn’t clear how many shamans were going to show up, but the crowd on the sidewalk hadn’t been huge. The mats were all laid out, and she’d even taped down the wires.
They better bring their own water.
Both pairs of goggles had fresh batteries, and she’d tested them as well. There was nothing more that could be done. All they could do now was be rested and ready–take advantage of time to sleep when they had it. She took Nicole’s goggles to her table. Nicole was painting the mountains again–mountains she recognized now from the Underworld of the Siberian shamans.
“Sleep,” Dominique tried again. “Get it while you can.”
Nicole made no indication that she’d heard.
Though her sister might paint for hours more, Dominique knew she didn’t have that luxury. She needed to be rested for tomorrow. If anyone was going to survive, it would be her. Otherwise, who would take care of Nicole?
• • • • •
“Here?” Sidirov demanded in a hushed voice. “Here?”
“Here,” Valentin replied, his smile icy.
They huddled in the hallway outside the poker room. Why Valentin could possibly be smiling, Sidirov couldn’t fathom. It was bad enough he was short-handed. The stupid boy who’d been attacked by dogs would be in the hospital for weeks. The last thing they needed was the Lightning Shaman here.
“Let me handle it,” Valentin said.
“You?” All Valentin had done was sit on his hands when it came to her.
“Now it is a matter for the Multiverse,” Valentin said. “My domain.” He turned to go and stopped. “Consider it a warning, old friend. The sun’s shadow is shifting.”
But as Sidirov watched Valentin’s retreating back, it was a different saying from the old country that played through his mind. “He who gets burned by milk, blows on water,” Sidirov mumbled.
He couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Even if the Multiverse was… Sidirov gave the empty hallway a long, sideways glance, and his eyes narrowed. The Multiverse wasn’t Valentin’s domain alone. Maybe there was something he could do.
• • • • •
SK would never have thought that a broken ca
r window could be a good thing. But as he tied the long stepladder to the side view mirror on the passenger door, that’s exactly what it had turned out to be. He gave the knot a tug–good and solid.
He took the cigar from his lips and realized it’d gone out. The ash had fallen off. When he looked down his t-shirt he realized where it’d gone. He swiped at the long, gray smudge a couple of times before giving up. He pulled out his lighter and lit what was left. As the end flared to life, he looked past it at the passenger seat. A single, long, white hair hung from the black headrest. He paused.
Liv.
He reached for it, but the ladder was in his way. He pushed his arm between the metal rungs, almost up to the shoulder. The tips of his fingers reached it, and he gingerly teased it free. Like a thread of silver, it glittered against the dark backdrop of his grimy fingers.
Stopping Mamacita had been the right thing to do. He flinched as Liv’s scream echoed in his ears. He tried to shake it off again. He should concentrate on tomorrow. He glanced at the ladder. She needed him for this one last thing.
“Tomorrow,” he muttered.
Upstairs, the condo was all packed up. Alvina had a place for him in Palm Springs. She’d been disappointed that the Lightning Shaman wouldn’t be coming, but she was holding out hope for the future. Something he found harder and harder to do.
He twirled the single, bright strand between his fingers, and then he let it fall.
• • • • •
Livvy stood at the window and listened to the wind chimes from the terrace. The soft notes drifted in from the dark. In his perch, Nacho heard them too. He stared in their direction despite having had the tour.
Though Livvy had made the bed in the second room, neither she nor Mamacita had been able to settle down. Mamacita had seemed determined to show Nacho every plant in the roof garden. Not that he could actually touch them. She’d tucked him securely under her arm. They’d made quite the pair. When she’d decided to turn in, Livvy suspected it wasn’t from being tired. She didn’t imagine ancestor spirits got tired.
“It’s been a day,” was all Mamacita had said, and then she’d gone to her room and closed the door.
Though Mamacita hadn’t seemed weary, she’d seemed a little bit–Livvy tried to find the word–lost. She’d wandered the entire condo, if slowly, until there was nowhere else to go.
But for the first time since she’d come back to L.A., Livvy wasn’t lost. As she and the other shamans had stood together on the sidewalk, she’d felt a sense of belonging and, more than that, purpose. She gazed out at the bright sea of lights beyond the confines of the roof garden. She had come home and, for better or worse, this was her place, and now was her time.
From his perch, Nacho reached a paw out to her. Though he only paid attention to her because SK wasn’t here, she’d didn’t mind. She gladly gathered the little tabby up in her arms. “Hey, Nacho,” she whispered into the soft fur on top of his head. “I know you miss SK.”
But as she said SK’s name, her chest constricted, and her own words came back to her. He’s my life. She closed her eyes and saw him in Mamacita’s office. Livvy winced as his words came back as well. Don’t you deserve better? Don’t I? She took in a quick, deep breath. Is that what this is? Better?
She hugged Nacho close. The prospect of life without SK was no life at all. Cavernous and empty, she simply couldn’t imagine it. She wouldn’t. She shook her head and opened her eyes.
But imagining the future was getting ahead of herself. There was still tomorrow to get through.
“Tomorrow,” she muttered.
There was Brad to think about–and his mentor. The Stone of Alatyr would unite the Siberian shamans. Backed into a corner, the Institute would be very dangerous. Dominique would be ready, as would everyone else. But the plan would rest with Livvy.
Nacho meowed and thunder sounded in the distance.
It was only then that Livvy felt it: She’d been backed into a corner too.
CHAPTER SIXTY
DOMINIQUE HAD BEEN up before dawn, checking the equipment. As usual, Nicole had begun painting at first light. Dominique had been on her third pass through the network when there’d been a light knock at the door. Though she shouldn’t have been surprised, she was.
“What’s bad for shamans here,” Alvina said, by way of introduction, “is bad for shamans everywhere.”
Though they’d never met in person, Alvina gave her a little wink and quick hug before gravitating to Nicole to watch her paint. Ursula and Wan-li arrived within minutes of Alvina. Though Dominique kept herself busy, she couldn’t help but watch the three of them–the original crew. She had once been on the receiving end of their Multiverse attacks. If not another shaman showed up, Dominique knew those three were worth a hundred.
But another twenty shamans did show up. They milled among the mats, checked the batteries in their goggles. They were nervous. Good, Dominique thought. Embrace the energy. It sharpens the senses.
It was almost time to get started, but another knock came from the door. But this arrival wasn’t just a surprise. She was unwelcome.
“Mamacita,” Dominique said.
The last time Mamacita had visited, she’d brought a bad network box. Her sabotage had spelled the end of Dominique’s squad.
“I thought I’d sit by,” Mamacita said, unapologetic, “seeing as how you have no intercessor.”
Mamacita’s unsmiling eyes gazed up at her, unwavering. Though Dominique would have liked nothing better than to turn the woman away, her tactical value dictated otherwise. The shamans waiting in the loft had rallied to Mamacita’s side last night. It could give them the extra ounce of confidence that might help in the end. Dominique stood aside and Mamacita trundled past.
As Dominique shut and locked the door, several of the younger shamans gathered around Mamacita. There were quiet hugs. Someone’s nervous laughter echoed from the cement surroundings. It was nearly time. The energy in the room was electric.
Alvina had been watching Nicole paint, Wan-li had been doing stretching exercises, and Ursula had inspected the nkondi. But as though they shared a silent alarm, the three of them moved toward the mats. When the other shamans realized, they followed suit. Quiet footsteps mixed with the sound of goggles being plugged in.
Dominique turned on Nicole’s goggles. Her sister gave no sign that she’d heard.
Good, thought Dominique. Everything as usual. That’s all she wanted today.
Dominique checked her watch. It was time.
• • • • •
With a final heave, SK pulled the ladder from the window. He’d barely left enough room between the passenger door and the wall. As far as he could tell, security cameras didn’t cover this side of the Institute, only front and back. But it didn’t hurt to be careful. He looked up through the zigzagging fire escapes. That first one was a long way up.
• • • • •
“Livvy, this is Valentin,” Brad said, grinning. “Valentin, this is Livvy.”
She swallowed hard. Though the nausea had faded, it wasn’t the vertigo that made Livvy’s stomach plummet. She tore her eyes away from the pedestal as one thought blazed through her mind: He knows.
Valentin’s thin smile had a satisfied look to it. “Pleased,” he said coolly.
Instead of the green moldavite, the pedestal held only the ancient, metal case. Though it rested on its side, it was nearly a cube and easily large enough to house the Stone. The reinforced and rounded corners, though dented, looked like brass. The case itself was something shinier. Maybe silver? It was tarnished and heavily scratched. The thick hinges looked like iron, and the matching clasps were closed. The message couldn’t have been more plain.
He knows I’ve come for the Stone.
Livvy forced a smile. “The pleasure is mine,” she said softly.
But the vertigo outside and in the lobby, she thought. The magnetic field is as strong as ever. The Stone can’t be in that metal case.
�
��I can’t believe you guys are finally meeting,” Brad gushed.
He put an arm around her waist as a spark popped. Livvy wrapped her arm behind Brad’s back and noted Valentin’s flinty glare.
“I’ve really looked forward to this,” Livvy agreed, careful to keep the smile on her face.
The entire plan hinged on the Stone and removing it from Little Odessa. All the players were in motion. There was no going back. As the silence stretched, Livvy locked gazes with Valentin. His smile had frozen.
“I suppose you’re anxious to see me in action,” Brad said, pulling her close.
She lightly grasped the pendant and took a deep breath. “The sooner, the better,” she said.
• • • • •
Mamacita watched Nicole paint furiously. Her brush seemed a blur between palette and canvas, dithering in mid-air. But as Mamacita quietly approached her, Nicole abruptly stopped.
Mamacita paused.
As though Nicole had heard her name called, she cocked her head down at the goggles. Like a robot, she set the palette down on an empty corner of the table, picked up the goggles, and put them on. Mamacita simply watched for several moments, but Nicole stood still as a statue.
On tiptoe, Mamacita moved closer.
Nicole’s breathing was easy and steady though her back was straight as a rod.
Mamacita took a look at the canvas and frowned. “What in the worlds…” she whispered.
Instead of a glowing mountain landscape, almost the entire canvas was red. It was a deep, dark red, so thick that it dripped. But in the center was…
Shaman, Lover, Warrior: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Book 5) Page 21
