Shaman, Healer, Heretic (18 page)

She wondered how the other shamans managing to work. Maybe SK would know. She sighed.

“Forget it,” she said out loud, returning to the table.

That was your old life
, she told herself. For certain clients like Brad and his parents, she’d have to find someone to take her place. There’d be a transition period while they got used to a new shaman, and she got used to not being a shaman. Maybe in a few months she’d be done with it, doing less and less shaman work and more of something else–whatever that might be. Lost in thought, she found herself still holding the sponge and staring down at the table.

With their wires splayed out and separated, the two goggles’ innards overlapped each other. Livvy stared down at the mess. It almost looked like the two sets were hooked together.

She put the sponge in the holder and took out the soldering iron, testing it on the sponge with a hiss and small wisp of smoke. It was hot enough. When the goggles were open, the foil lining didn’t help to prevent damage. She clipped one end of an anti-static wrist strap to the grounding pad and slipped the elastic band over her hand. She organized the wires as best she could before she began. The wiring was fairly complex and it was possible to get confused and start unsoldering the wrong thing, especially with two pairs of goggles. It’d even be possible to start soldering the two together.

She was just about to touch the soldering iron to the contact on a small board she held with a pair of pliers when she stopped.

What would happen
, she wondered,
if I did connect the two pairs of goggles
?
Could two people see the same thing?

She set down the pliers and replaced the iron in its holder. She moved the magnifying glass out of the way for a clear view of the two goggles in their entirety.

“What if two shamans could see the same thing?” she whispered.

Would they be able to see each other?

She touched the one pair.

And if they could see each other
…
could they help each other
?

She brought her hand back, feeling guilty for even thinking it. It was heresy.

Still…what if they could? She remembered the kachina and sat staring at the two pairs of goggles. The kachina had helped her.

If I could hook two together, why not more?
What would happen if I could get twenty shamans together instead of two? Maybe something could be done about Tiamat.

Her mind started to visualize the wiring that would be necessary. The electronics were the easy part. Yes, the wiring was possible but she’d need a few more components than what she had here. Of course, she’d also need willing partners.

She thought of Min but put the thought aside. Min didn’t have the experience. It wouldn’t be fair to ask her to take a risk on something that had never been tried. She focused on the goggles again. Electronics and other shamans–there was only one place where she might be able to find both.
 

ALTHOUGH MAMACITA HAD said, “Mmm hmm,” Livvy distinctly heard, “You want to do what?”

“I know it could work,” said Livvy, unable to keep from sounding excited.

“What would ever possess you, child?” said Mamacita, moving her giant feather duster over statues of Mary and Buddha. “You know it’s the unwritten rule.”

“I know, I know,” said Livvy, following her. “Shamans don’t know each other.”

“That’s right,” she said, nodding.

“But shamans
do
know each other, and we all know it. You know it. SK knows it. Why don’t we just admit it and work together?”

Mamacita suddenly stopped between the overcrowded shelves and turned to her.

“Because there’s a danger, that’s why. Even the Multiverse has its rules. Shamans who violate those rules take a risk–a mighty big risk.”

Livvy had never seen Mamacita so serious but she couldn’t stop now.

“It’s all a risk, isn’t it? Every trip to the Multiverse. Now more than ever.”

Mamacita eyed Livvy over the top of her half-glasses and pursed her lips, studying her.

“Mmm hmm,” she intoned as she turned back to one of the shelves and continued dusting. In the silence that followed, small dust flurries drifted through the orange shafts of light over the brass candleholders.

“I’m not sure we’ll be working much anyway,” said Livvy, beginning to lose enthusiasm.

“Yes, I heard there’s trouble.”

“
Big
trouble,” said Livvy. She stuck her hands in her jacket pockets and followed Mamacita to the next aisle and looked down at the ground. “Really big trouble.”

She watched Mamacita move her duster around crystal pyramids of various sizes and colors. Mamacita didn’t say anything.

“Trouble so big,” said Livvy quietly, “one shaman by themselves can’t do anything about it, maybe can’t survive.”

Mamacita stopped. “What kind of talk is that?” she asked.

The cockatiel echoed, “What kind of talk is that?”

“I don’t know,” Livvy muttered.

It had seemed like such a good idea an hour ago. Maybe Mamacita was right.

“Well,” said Mamacita moving behind the counter and stowing the duster. “It’s not really for me to say, you know. I’m just the shopkeeper.”

“Just the shopkeeper,” echoed the cockatiel.

“Did you say you needed some parts?”

Livvy hesitated. If she were only going to repair the one set of goggles, she didn’t need anything and she could save the little bit of money that she had. If she were going to hook the goggles together, she’d need to get a few things. What would be the point though if she couldn’t find someone to help her?

“So, you don’t think there’s any point to seeing if I might not possibly be able to sort of…contact other shamans?” she asked.

Mamacita had the pulse of the shaman world, knew virtually all of them for at least a hundred miles around. She pursed her lips again.

“Well now, I didn’t say that, did I?”

“Really? You think there’s a chance?”

“Seriously, honey,” Mamacita said, “No, I don’t think there’s a chance, but it’s not really for me to say.”

She brought down a small plastic tray of electronic parts from the shelf behind her and put it between them.

“It’s just–if you do try, don’t get your hopes up. The traditions, even though they’re old, they still apply.”

Mamacita picked a few parts out of the tray and set them on the counter.

“Now, I can’t put you in contact with other shamans,” she said, looking over her glasses. “And I’m not just saying I won’t. I’m saying I can’t. I don’t have their phone numbers or addresses. They come here, you see?”

Livvy nodded.

“But the one who can do
that
,” she said, emphasizing the word by placing the last of the parts on the counter. “Well, you already know him.”

SK
, Livvy thought, but immediately shook her head. Of course she’d thought of him but she already knew what he would say. He’d never break with tradition, and he wouldn’t approve of her trying it. His disapproval wasn’t something she wanted to risk–and not just because of the work he provided. He was the only person she trusted, the only person she could really talk to. She knew that he worked with lots of shamans but, even so, she thought maybe she sensed something more from him. She thought of him as a friend–her only other friend besides Min.

“Now don’t be so quick to say no,” said Mamacita, putting the tray away behind her. “There’s more to SK than you might think. He sees what’s happening, same as you.”

She turned back to the counter and paused. Then she picked up a stray pen near the register and put it into a coffee mug that was already stuffed with pens.

“And, it just so happens, he thinks pretty highly of you,” Mamacita said, without looking at her.

Really?
Livvy thought.
Me?

“Now you didn’t hear that here,” Mamacita intoned.

Livvy could have hugged her. Maybe SK would see it her way. Maybe things would turn around. Smiling, she started to take out her wallet.

“That’s all right, sweetie. You pay next time,” said Mamacita, putting the parts in a small paper bag.

This time, Livvy couldn’t help herself. Without thinking, she came around the end of the counter and, before Mamacita had seen her coming, Livvy hugged her.

“Oh!” said Mamacita, as a little spark jumped between them.

“Thank you, Mamacita,” Livvy said, hugging her fiercely.

Mamacita shook her head but hugged her in return and then patted her back.

“Don’t thank me, child,” she said quietly. “Don’t thank me.”

STILL BUOYED FROM her visit with Mamacita and thinking about the next steps, Livvy didn’t see the front door to her apartment until she was nearly standing in front of it. Spray painted on the door was a giant, red, inverted pentagram.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

She looked up and down the hallway, but nobody was there. No evidence of any sort was on the floor or in the vicinity. She didn’t know how they’d done it, but the shaman-haters had obviously figured out where she lived and they’d somehow gotten into the building.

It looked like the paint was still wet. If she hurried, she might be able to get some of it off before the landlord saw it. Checking over her shoulder, she unlocked the door and fetched some cleaning stuff.

Outside again, she looked up and down the hallway and then started to frantically wipe and scrub. The paint hadn’t dried yet and she managed to get some of it off with just the paper towels. When the paper towels stopped being effective, she switched to the cleanser.

Although she’d never get all the paint off, it looked like she was at least going to be able to hide the fact that a pentagram had been painted on the door.

“What happened?” said a voice from close behind her.

Startled, she let out small shriek. When she looked around, she saw the paramedic.

“Sorry!” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

She took her hand away from her heart and realized that she’d been holding a cleaning pad there, with paint on it.

“Oh no,” she said, trying to wipe the paint off her shirt.

“Look what I’ve made you do,” he said, as he reached down for the paper towels.

He picked them up, ripped off a few sheets, and offered them to her.

“You’ve also got a little paint…”

He pointed to the corner of his own mouth. She took the paper towel he offered and quickly wiped at her face.

“Graffiti?” he asked.

“You could say that,” she said, as she continued to wipe, although what she really wanted to do was go inside and check her face in a mirror.

He looked around at the other doors and the walls in the hallway.

“Graffiti inside? That’s kind of unusual.” He looked back to her. “Anyway, I was in the neighborhood and I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Really?” she asked, stopping in mid-wipe.

He smiled. “Yeah, really.”

She didn’t know what to say. People didn’t usually worry about her.

“I remembered your address,” he offered, breaking the silence. “I waited at the front gate until somebody was leaving.”

“Right,” she said, finally looking away, embarrassed that she’d been staring.

“So,” he said slowly. “How are you doing?”

She focused on the crumpled and dirty paper towels she’d thrown on the ground. “I’m good,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“How’s your head?”

Her hand flew to the back of her head.

“Oh that! You know, I haven’t really noticed it, so I guess it must be okay.”

“Good,” he said. He put his hands in his pockets. “Well then…”

“Would you like to come inside?” she blurted.

“That’d be great,” he said, smiling again.

“Okay,” she said, as she bent over and started grabbing the used towels and cleaning things. “Let me just get this stuff.”

He picked up the cleanser.

“Thanks,” she said, as she opened the door. “Come on in.”
 

AS SOON AS they had stepped through the door and Livvy closed it, she realized it’d been awhile since she had cleaned. The kitchen was the worst area and she headed right for it. Half a dozen syrup bottles of various flavors were grouped near the dish rack. She pushed them into a corner.

“Sorry for the mess,” she said, as she grabbed dishes from the counter and put them in the sink.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, as he strolled over to the altar. “Wow, this is quite a collection.”

Before she had realized she was a shaman or had any interest in the shamanic world, she had collected sacred objects and set them up on display. Later she had learned that all shamans create altars, some more elaborate than others. By now, she had hundreds of little things and the altar had multiple levels.