Shaman, Healer, Heretic (10 page)

“What’s this?” she said, setting her tea down.

She fetched a pair of reading glasses from the large pocket of the long velvet coat she was wearing and put them on.

“Oh my,” she said, gasping. Then she turned in her chair to look in the direction of the couch, comparing the photo to the spot where the kachina had stood. “Oh my,” she said again, not able to stop looking at the photo.

Livvy waited, knowing how shocking the photo was. Finally, Min looked up at her. “You’ve got more to worry about than me,” she said, with a small amount of relief. Someone in the world was experiencing weirder things than she was.

“Thanks,” said Livvy, taking the phone back.

Min sipped her tea and absently pushed the cookie remains aside.

“I haven’t seen a kachina anywhere,” she said. “Especially not…in the real world.” She put down her mug. “I haven’t seen anything like that.”

The silence settled in again as Livvy remembered the kachina beckoning to her in the clearing of the Middleworld.

“I’m having strange dreams,” Min blurted out. “It’s hard to wake up.”

Livvy looked at her. Min was holding herself rigid, but her eyes moved back and forth scanning Livvy’s, looking again for confirmation. Here was the real reason for the visit. It was the dreams that had scared her, not the disturbance in the Multiverse.

“Do you feel like you’ve been…buried?” asked Livvy.

Min exhaled with relief.

“You too!” she said, almost glad.

“Not quite,” said Livvy, shaking her head.

She decided to come out with it. “I just had to rescue another shaman who had gotten trapped in the Middleworld. She’d been buried. During a dream.”

Min thumped her mug back down on the table, sloshing some tea out but not noticing.

“She couldn’t wake up?”

“Nope. I don’t think she would have either.”

“How did you know about her?”

“Her boyfriend called me–her fiancé,” Livvy corrected herself. “He called when he couldn’t wake her up.”

Min was suddenly silent, her shoulders hunched. Her knuckles stood out from her boney fingers as she clutched the mug.

“You had trouble waking up?” Livvy asked quietly.

Min only nodded.

“Today?”

“Last couple of days,” Min admitted. “I dreamt of being covered with dirt. I don’t know why. I’ve never dreamt of such a thing before.”

She looked up at Livvy, her face drained of what little color had been there.

“Livvy, I’m afraid.”

Livvy reached her hand across the table and rested it on Min’s, who grasped it in both of hers like a lifeline.

“What are we going to do?” Min whispered.

Livvy thought about it. “Well, we could call each other in the morning,” she suggested. “If one of us doesn’t answer, then we’ll know there’s a problem.”

Min bobbed her head. It wasn’t a great solution, but at least another shaman stood a chance of helping.

A loud thumping at the door nearly made Min topple her tea. Livvy grabbed the mug just in time, and then they stared at each other as though they’d been caught.
 

MR. SIDIROV, THE landlord, stood in the doorway. As soon as Livvy saw him, she knew what day it was.

“Rent is overdue,” said Sidirov in his thick Russian accent. “Again.”

He wore a filthy white tank top that matched his dirty jeans. A large wad of keys hung from one of the front belt loops under his protruding belly.

“I’ll bring it by this afternoon,” Livvy said, starting to close the door, embarrassed that Min had to see this.

He put a hand on the door, looked into the room, and saw Min at the table.

“Rent goes up for a roommate.”

“She’s not a roommate,” said Livvy.

“Better not be.”

“I’ll bring it by this afternoon,” Livvy said as she tried the door again.

“You owe two months now,” he said as the door closed.

“This afternoon,” Livvy said as the gap narrowed.

“Better be,” he said as it closed.

WHEN THE ALARM went off, Jack was alone in bed. He swished his hand absently over Indra’s side and wondered why she’d gotten up so early. He rolled over and looked at the bathroom door, which was closed. As he waited, the minutes ticked by and he drowsed, until he woke up again and saw from the clock that fifteen minutes had gone by.

He looked at the bathroom door, which was still closed. There was no sound coming from it.

“Indra?” he asked. “Are you okay in there?”

There was no answer. He got out of bed and went over to the door.

“Indra? Are you in there?”

Again, not a sound. He glanced back into the bedroom. Maybe she’d gone downstairs already, he thought, but her robe was on the bed. He knocked on the door.

“Indra, are you in there?”

He tried the knob, which was unlocked.

“I’m coming in,” he called as he pushed the door open.

After only a short distance, it thumped against something. He pushed harder and the door opened more but not all the way. He peered through the gap and saw Indra’s legs stretched out, blocking the entrance.

“Oh my god,” he said, shoving the door, putting his shoulder into it.

“Indra! Are you okay?”

He squeezed through the opening he’d made and saw her lying there. Her head was next to the toilet with vomit everywhere. She was lying in it on her side. He tried turning her over, but there was no room on the bathroom floor. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth hung open.

“Indra!” he shouted. “Indra, wake up!”
 

AS THE DOOR brushed by it, a small bell at the top of the entrance quivered on its spring and tinkled. Livvy stepped through into the familiar scent of myrrh resin and the flickering light of candles.

After several seconds, her eyes adjusted from the midday glare. The familiar overstocked shelves came into focus. Mamacita’s shop was a crazy cross between a magic shop, a new age bookstore, and an electronics outlet. Livvy headed down the short center aisle to the counter in the back where Mamacita was perched on her stool like usual. She fed a peanut to the large cockatiel in the cage next to her.

“Well, hi baby,” she said in the smooth Southern drawl that always put Livvy at ease. Mamacita gave her a big smile as she looked over her half-glasses. “Haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays.”

Although she had no trace of a Spanish accent, she was Hispanic: the straight dark hair pulled into a large, flat barrette in the back, slightly darker-than-olive skin. It was impossible to tell her age. She might be fifty or she might be ninety. She was plump, which helped with the wrinkles, and her hair coloring–if there was any–was perfect. It might also be possible that she was using a little something in the spirit world to help her along, keep that younger look. Some people swore her shop had been there over sixty years. If a customer needed something of a shaman nature, no matter what, Mamacita had it or could get it–for a price, of course.

Livvy came up to the counter. It had always looked to her more like a judge’s bench than something for a store. Knowing Mamacita, it could have been. The rumors swirled around her like the flakes in a snow globe. Some even said she had been a shaman once–a long time ago. Livvy leaned her elbows on the high counter and looked up at Mamacita.

“It’s good to see you, Mamacita,” she said, smiling. “How you doing?”

“Oh, I’m all right,” she said, taking off her glasses and letting them dangle on the beaded chain. “But you’re not, child. Look at you. When was the last time you slept right?”

“A little while,” said Livvy, wondering if her drawl might be Texan.

“Mmm hmm,” hummed Mamacita, knowingly. “I guess that’s going around.”

Livvy perked up at that. The shop had been on her way and, after Min’s visit, she no longer felt alone in having strange dealings in the Multiverse.

“What do you hear?” Livvy asked.

“Oh, you never visit Mamacita just to say hi, do you,” she said, taking a peanut from a small bowl on the counter.

She scooted the bowl closer to Livvy, and they each worked on prying open a shell.

“Strange doings in the Multiverse is what I hear,” said Mamacita as she popped a peanut in her mouth. “Very strange.”

“Yeah,” said Livvy, looking at her peanut. “Like shamans who can’t wake up from dreams.” She looked up at Mamacita, who was waiting like she had all the time in the world. “Like they’ve been buried under the ground in the Middleworld.”

“Oh, well, I can’t say as I’d quite heard that one yet,” said Mamacita as she reached for another peanut and dropped the old shell on the floor.

“I’ve heard it a couple times,” said Livvy, absently splitting the peanut into halves.

“That right?” said Mamacita as though she wasn’t particularly interested. “You rollin’ with other shamans now?”

Livvy laughed. “Who’s teaching you to talk like that?”

Mamacita chuckled, her laugh quiet, almost shy. Despite the complete lack of a physical resemblance, Mamacita’s laugh reminded Livvy of her mother. Sometimes Livvy wondered what a relationship with her mother would have been like. Usually she found herself thinking along those lines after a visit to Mamacita–visits that often coincided with stressful times in her life.

“I might see more of the outside world than you think,” said Mamacita.

“Uh huh,” said Livvy, smiling briefly. “Anyway, I do happen to know of two shamans, both techno-shamans, who have had the same experience.”

“My, my,” said Mamacita. “Well then, you are getting around. I’d be careful with that.”

“It wasn’t my choice,” said Livvy quickly. “For sure, it wasn’t my choice,” she said, remembering Jack.

“All right, then,” said Mamacita in soothing tones.

Livvy stared down at her peanut, using her thumbnail to split the half in half.

“Well,” said Mamacita, watching her, “I’ve been seeing some jumpy shamans lately. Never seen anything like it.” She put her glasses on to see Livvy’s peanut, then took them off again. “Never. And I’ve been in this business, well, a long time.”

“Long time,” the cockatiel echoed.

“How’s Pete doing?” said Livvy, flipping her peanuts into the cage.

“Coming along nicely,” nodded Mamacita, looking over at the bird.

Pete was short for ‘repeat’. This cockatiel must have been her third or forth. When they died, she simply bought another one, same breed and color, and gave it the same name. They eventually learned all the same words.

Livvy dusted her hands off as she straightened up.

“I don’t suppose there’s been talk of any kachinas,” began Livvy slowly. “Especially ones that might appear in the real world?”

Mamacita stopped what she was doing.

“No, most definitely not,” she said, all seriousness now. “Is there something you want to tell Mamacita?”

“Tell Mamacita,” said the bird.

Why had Mamacita reacted like that? It wasn’t quite what Livvy had been expecting.

“Nah,” Livvy said. “Just wondering.”

“Mmm hmm,” Mamacita hummed, back to her old self again as she cracked another peanut.

Livvy watched Pete for a few moments and looked back at Mamacita. She wanted to tell her all about the kachina, and Min, and Indra. But even the mention of the kachina had unsettled her and the talk of other shamans had elicited a warning. The last thing she wanted was to upset Mamacita.

“Thanks for the peanut,” Livvy finally said. “And the chit chat.”

“Sure thing, child” said Mamacita as she smiled and shook a peanut at her. “Don’t you be such a stranger.”

“Promise,” said Livvy, smiling, relieved at the familiar patter as she retreated toward the door.

“Livvy, honey?”

Livvy stopped, her hand on the doorknob, and turned around.

“You be extra careful. There’s something wrong right now…” Mamacita said, her voice trailing off. “Anyway, you just be careful.”
 

“IT WON’T GO on sale for thirty days?” asked Livvy.

“Not exactly,” said the ancient man behind the counter as he cleaned the ring. “It’ll be in the front case and people can look at it.” He put it back down on the dusty black velvet board between them. “They can put a hold on it, but I won’t sell it for thirty days.”

Livvy sighed and stared at her mother’s engagement ring as the man filled out her receipt. Even with all the jobs she’d had recently, she wasn’t going to be able to come up with two months rent. It turned her stomach to be selling one of the last heirlooms but the thought of being homeless frightened her. She had slowly, but inevitably, been sinking toward it for some time.

“Yes,” the man was saying, “people are hunting for bargains right now.”

Once upon a time, Livvy had imagined she’d have the diamonds reset or used in a wedding band of her own. The way her life was going, though, a wedding seemed like a remote possibility. When she had been in med school, there had been no shortage of handsome young things who wanted her on their arm–a good-looking and bright young woman on her way to becoming a doctor. Her studies hadn’t allowed for much free time, but she had always been in demand. Now, not so much.