Shaman, Healer, Heretic (Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman) Read online

  DEDICATION

  For Cheese.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many, many thanks are owed to a few wonderful people.

  Jesse Steele at the The Editorial Department annotated the entire manuscript in one of its final stages. Her corrections, suggestions and advice were invaluable in moving the story to the next level and saving me from a gaggle of grammar gaffs–though I’m sure I’ve managed to trip myself up after the fact. In the first version of this book, artist Jennifer Albright brought Livvy to life in a way that I could never have envisioned. It was simply a delight to watch her apply both talent and imagination to a character that had once only existed in my head. And, speaking of delight… On this long path, my husband and the partner of my labors has in turn been beta reader, critique partner, editor, designer, engineer, and support team. In some magical math that I have yet to comprehend, he makes my burdens less than half because he shares them but my happiness is more than doubled.

  SHAMAN

  HEALER

  HERETIC

  Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Book One

  CHAPTER ONE

  LIVVY FORCED HERSELF to exhale slowly but didn’t dare open her eyes. If she did, whoever was in the bedroom might see and know she was awake. The fact that the room was silent now didn’t matter. Someone was there. Of that she was certain.

  But who was it and what were they doing?

  She felt an aching in her lungs that was steadily rising to a burn.

  Breathe, she thought.

  She tried to inhale without moving her sides despite the feeling she couldn’t get enough air. Panic had started to win.

  The pillowcase under the back of her neck was wet with sweat, as was the single sheet under her folded arm. Her mind raced as she tried to think of what had woken her. It hadn’t been sirens from the street or noise from one of the neighbors. She knew those sounds, all too well in fact. It wouldn’t be a burglar. She didn’t have anything to steal–nobody in the building did. The only thing they could possibly want…was her.

  A sudden chill threatened to shudder down the entire length of her body. Too terrified to move, she realized she would soon have no choice. Except for the rapid swishing of blood pounding in her ears, the silence in the room continued.

  Okay, enough. You have to look.

  At first her eyelid wouldn’t cooperate, like it had somehow gotten stuck. She slowly raised an eyebrow to help but when it finally popped open, it was too much. Quickly, she narrowed the gap to a tiny crack. Despite the lashes and dim light of early morning, she could definitely see something next to the bed–something large.

  A scream quickly began to build in her throat but, without warning, she heard a loud snap and felt a stinging pain on her upper arm.

  “Ow!” she screamed.

  In one rush of movement, she sat up, flung herself across the small mattress and hit the wall with her back.

  From the far edge of the bed on the floor, Livvy had to look up, way up, to see the intruder in his entirety. He seemed to be looking right at her but the mask made it impossible to tell. She sucked in a breath and blinked as recognition sank in. Even for a techno-shaman, a kachina in the bedroom wasn’t exactly part of the drill. In fact, it was impossible.

  Its enormous feather-fringed mask began to tilt toward her. Heart hammering, she couldn’t help but stare at the top-feathers as they twitched a slow path across the ceiling–until she realized the kachina was reaching for her. She flattened against the wall, pushed to her feet and slid up, unsteady on the mattress. The kachina jumped back, the pellets in his rattle bursting to life before rolling back into silence as he froze. At the bottom of his turquoise-painted mask, a wide upside-down triangle made it look like he was grinning but the body language was tense.

  What was a kachina doing in the real world? How could it manifest here? She had never heard of such a thing and it shouldn’t even be possible. That was it, she thought. It was not possible, therefore this was not a Hopi god. This was an impostor. It had to be.

  On rare occasion, one of her clients might show up unannounced. It was to be expected in her line of work and she didn’t necessarily mind, unless they were possessed. But nobody had a key, not even SK. He had told her to get a baseball bat and now she wished she had. Her eyes darted around the tiny bedroom to the plastic and cardboard boxes she used as furniture. There was nothing that even resembled a weapon. The pellets in the rattle started to roll and she snapped her eyes back to the kachina. He didn’t look like he had moved.

  How had he gotten in? More importantly, she thought, how do I get out? The kachina was between her and the door and, even though she was standing, he towered over her.

  “Look,” she said, unable to keep her voice from trembling. “I don’t know what this is about–”

  He started to reach for her again.

  “No don’t!” she screamed.

  Again he stopped, his black rectangle eyes staring for several long moments.

  Then, he carefully tucked the rattle into the top of his kilt and raised the flute in his other hand up to the painted triangle. Livvy stood there, in her t-shirt and pajama bottoms, still on the mattress, transfixed for a moment by the strange pantomime. While the kachina continued the parody, she again gauged the distance to the door. As she did, a small sound started to creep into her consciousness. It was so soft that she couldn’t be sure if she was imagining it or not. The most delicate notes started to float out of the end of the flute, breathy, with a reedy edge to them. Confused, she stared at the painted triangle of the kachina’s mask and watched his fingers work over the holes of the flute. He really did seem to be playing the instrument. There was no melody but the music seemed mournful somehow and peaceful.

  The details of his outfit began to sink in as well–the cotton pom-poms that hung from the kilt, the small deer-hoof tinklers suspended from the garters on his calves. He looked infinitely better than any kachina doll or dancer she had ever seen.

  As if comforted by his own playing, the kachina seemed to loosen up. He bent forward at the waist slightly and started to accompany himself on percussion with a gentle stamping of his feet and tinkling of the deer-hooves. Despite herself, Livvy felt tension release from her shoulders.

  Wait, thought Livvy with a start. Where’s Nacho? Her eyes quickly scanned the floor. The little orange cat was nowhere to be seen. She’d brought him in last night, as usual. Normally, he’d be curled up on her feet in the morning but this morning was anything but normal. She hoped he’d found himself a safe place.

  On the cardboard box behind the kachina, her cell phone vibrated and then blared its ridiculously shrill ring. When he stopped playing and looked back, Livvy saw her chance. Move, she thought. Now or never. She pushed herself away from the wall, then took a step forward and to the right to get by him, but he must have heard her. The kachina whipped the flute through the air so fast it whistled by itself, ending up in a horizontal position that barred her path. Despite the fact that he seemed to have her trapped, the jarring phone and her attempt to escape had apparently caused a crisis. Even as she recoiled from the flute, she realized that he had started to fade. From the moccasins up, as though an invisible water level was rising to swallow him, he was disappearing. Unable to step toward her, he flailed his arms out, grasping.

  As one hand grazed her arm, a small blue spark appeared between them, with a popping sound. She flinched from the pain, realizing now what had woken her. In only moments, the rising invisibility covered his torso, enveloped his arms, and shot up his mask until only the feathers were left. Then, he was gone. Except for her pounding heart and ra
sping breath, the room was silent.

  Oh no, no, no. This cannot be. As she inched toward the spot where he’d been standing, she reached out a quaking hand to test the air. Nothing…except for a faint flinty smell of ozone. As frightening as an intruder had been, the prospect of a real kachina was worse. She looked down at the spot where he had danced. He hadn’t left a trace. She looked through the bedroom door to the front door, which still had the chain pulled across and the dead bolt locked. Her mind raced. What had just happened? She drew in a shaky breath as her phone rang again, making her jump.

  She fumbled with it but finally managed to pick it up and unplug the charger. It was SK.

  “SK, you won’t believe this!”

  “Believe what?”

  “There was a kachina here,” Livvy said, the words tumbling out. “It was a real kachina and it was here, in my bedroom. It played the flute. It was–”

  “Kachina?” he interrupted.

  “Yeah,” she said. “It was–”

  “Liv, wake up,” he said. There was an unusual urgency in his voice, something tense. She heard children crying in the background. “I know it’s early but I’m calling about a job. Are you available?”

  “But...”

  She looked at the spot where the kachina had been. She hadn’t been dreaming, had she? She looked down at the new welt on her arm. No, it had not been a dream. Even so, a real kachina?

  A small mewl came from the bathroom and Nacho peeked out. He touched his pink nose to the edge of the door and swiveled his ears in near circles. As soon as he saw Livvy, he ran over, meowing the entire way. Livvy exhaled with relief.

  “Liv, are you listening?” said SK.

  She sank down on the mattress and Nacho immediately jumped into her lap. She stroked his back, again and again, probably harder than was necessary.

  “Livvy?”

  “Yeah,” she said, finally, as she closed her eyes and hugged Nacho. “Yeah, I’m listening.”

  “I’ve got a client over here who’d be up your line but they need you right away or they’ll have to look elsewhere.”

  “Okay,” she said, opening her eyes, trying to concentrate.

  Someone needed her help. Was it one of the children she’d heard crying? SK sounded...worried. Livvy gave Nacho a final scratch behind the ears and gently kissed the top of his head. He jumped lightly to the floor and started licking a paw.

  “Livvy, are you there?”

  “Yeah, SK, I’m here. Where are you?”

  She flipped back the blankets on the bed and started to look for her goggles.

  “Hoover Street at 5th. The apartment building on the southwest corner. Maybe you remember it. You worked here about six months ago.”

  “Okay,” she said, as she moved over to the plastic boxes that served as her dresser. She lifted a towel and saw the goggles.

  “Right,” said SK. “Apartment number 346. When can you be here?”

  She could hear kids crying in the background again as she stuffed the goggles into her shoulder bag.

  “About forty-five minutes,” she said. “I’ll walk. It’ll be faster than the bus.”

  “Good, I’ll be outside. And Liv–”

  She had been about to hang up.

  “Don’t forget to bring fresh batteries.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  OF AVERAGE HEIGHT for a dwarf, SK was about four feet tall. Despite his size, Livvy easily spotted him in front of the building, smoking a cigarette. She had run the last four blocks and came to a quick stop in front of him.

  “You made good time,” he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke, his back against the wrought iron fence that surrounded the building. A brief smile flickered across his serious face.

  His short, dark hair had just the right amount of styling gel, creating a bit of tufted texture at the top. Clean shaven as usual, he was wearing a tailored suit, custom Italian shoes, and a crisp shirt, open a button at the neck. Today’s outfit was royal blue, with matching pocket handkerchief.

  “Put out that cancer stick,” she managed to get out, still breathing hard.

  He scowled and took his time but ground out the stub against one of the metal pickets in the fence.

  As she caught her breath, she looked up at the building. She recognized the place, now that she was here, even though it seemed like just another run-down building in a dumpy neighborhood. The supermarket that she had passed used cement pylons at the entrance to keep the carts from being stolen. All of the shops in this part of Los Angeles had metal grates that could be lowered during off hours, not that it helped with graffiti. The gang markings were so dense they were nearly solid.

  “Are you ready?” asked SK.

  “I saw a kachina this morning,” she blurted out.

  “So you said. A private job?”

  “No, it was here,” she insisted. “In the real world.”

  He snorted and pushed away from the fence.

  “Was its name Jack Daniels or Jim Beam?”

  He started making his way toward the gate. Like many dwarfs, his arms and legs were short compared to his stocky torso, causing him to sway slightly.

  “Dang it, SK, you know I’m straight.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m serious.”

  He looked up at her and stopped, his eyebrows knitting together and his eyes searching her face.

  “All right,” he said, apparently satisfied with what he had seen. “I know you’re straight. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  She lowered her voice.

  “It was a kachina spirit and it was in my bedroom this morning.”

  He glanced left, then right, and lowered his voice as well.

  “I’m sure you know that’s impossible.”

  “I wish,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m telling you, SK, a kachina was in my apartment this morning, casting a shadow and playing a flute.”

  He looked directly into her eyes.

  “You’re sure,” he said, more statement than question.

  “It tried to grab me,” she confirmed.

  “It what?”

  The sudden change in the tone of his voice worried her.

  “It tried to grab me?”

  “Well, what happened?” he asked, the low volume gone.

  “It disappeared, right into thin air, while I watched. When you called the first time, the sound of the phone scared him and he just disappeared, from the ground up.”

  SK’s eyebrows went up but his mouth was set in a hard line. One of the double doors to the building opened behind him and Livvy could see a young Hispanic girl coming down the steps. She stopped when she saw SK. He turned around when he realized Livvy was looking at someone.

  “Dolores wanted to know what happened to you,” said the girl.

  “We’ll be right there,” he said.

  The girl wasn’t looking at him any longer. She was staring at Livvy.

  “All right,” he said under his breath, turning to Livvy. “We’ll finish this later.”

  He turned back to the young girl.

  “We’re coming,” he said and pulled the gate open.

  Without a word, Livvy held the gate for him as he passed under her arm. The young girl bounded up the steps and through the double doors. There was no sign of her when they crossed the empty lobby to a doorway that led to a stairwell. SK nearly had to jump to get from one step to the next and in no time he was panting.

  Livvy couldn’t stop thinking about the kachina as they made their way up the dark steps. Had that really been what she’d seen? What would it want with her? Why wouldn’t it appear in a kiva in Arizona or New Mexico? Besides, spirits couldn’t manifest in the real world. It was impossible. None of it made sense.

  SK paused on the second floor landing, breathing hard and leaning against the wall. Livvy watched him, putting thoughts of the kachina aside for the moment.

  “It’s not just cancer, you know. I’ve told you. It’s shortness of breath too.”

  “And I’ve told you
to start dressing like a techno-shaman,” he said, wheezing slightly. “Dress like a professional for a change and maybe people will treat you like one.”

  “Like I have money for gypsy robes,” she said, but involuntarily looked down to check herself for the first time that day.

  She noticed that her jeans had a small tear at the right knee and the high-top sneakers were scuffed. Her orange t-shirt was clean but she probably shouldn’t have worn the army surplus coat she had grabbed on her way out.

  “The hair helps,” he said, starting upward again. “But you need to do something for your street cred.”

  “What about my track record? Doesn’t that do something for my street cred?” she asked, waiting for him to get up to the next step.

  Although her career was young, she had never failed a client. Not once.

  “Look kid, your cred is fine with me,” he said, turning around, panting. “That’s why you get the call. I know you’ve got the talent, plenty of it.” He paused to catch his breath. “I’m saying you’ll get more private clients if you turn up looking the part.”

  No doubt the hair was a plus but it hadn’t been intentional–far from it. It had begun changing after her vision quest, the first encounter with her spirit helper, and at this point, it was completely and shockingly white. It fell to just below her shoulders, full and lustrous, but white. As far as she’d ever heard or seen, a hair color change wasn’t a standard part of shamanism. SK had persuaded her not to color it and most people who mentioned it assumed it was a fashion choice. Although tall and willowy, she was no longer a blond.

  Livvy heard steps above them and looked up. An overweight, balding, middle-aged priest was coming down the stairs, his white collar glowing in the faint light, swaying back and forth as he lumbered down. She stood to the side as the man nodded at them, his eyes lingering on her.

  “Father,” said SK, nodding back as the man passed them and continued on.