Shaman, Healer, Heretic (34 page)

“What in the hell?” he said.

It wasn’t even eight a.m. As he grabbed his tie, the doorbell rang again.

“All right,” he said, irritated.

Who was ringing doorbells at eight in the morning? Was he expecting any deliveries? Was there a broken sprinkler somewhere? As he came down the stairs, the bell rang again. By the time he got to the door, he was mad.

“All right, all–” he was saying as he jerked the door open.

“Jack, why was the door locked?” said Indra, or almost said.

Her mouth didn’t work quite right. There was still dried spittle and vomit trailing across the mottled skin of her face, from the corner of her mouth to her ear. She was wearing the same nightgown that he’d last seen her in when the ambulance attendees had zipped up the body bag and taken her away.

He was about to scream when she started to come in. He slammed the door shut and started fumbling with the locks. The doorknob started to turn so he grabbed it to keep it from moving, but it slowly rotated despite his desperate grip. He used both hands, but there was no way he was going to be able to keep it from turning. The door started to inch inward. He threw himself against it, slamming it back shut. He wrenched the deadbolt so hard he thought he might snap it off. The doorbell rang.

He jumped back from the door, panting, and waited but there were no more sounds.

Had it really been Indra? How could that be? Should he open the door and check? No. He shook his head. No. He’d barely been able to get the door closed. Oh, the smell! Some of it had come into the room.

There was a dark figure moving behind the vertical blinds at the patio’s sliding glass door. She was trying again. He stared at the shadow but didn’t dare go over. He never opened the sliding glass door to the patio. He knew it would be locked. He watched as the silhouette reached down to the handle and tried to slide the door. It moved about an eighth of an inch, only the distance of play in the lock.

Now he wished he’d put a wood dowel in the sliding channel, like Indra had always asked him to do.

She tugged the door again and tilted her head down at the handle. Then, as though she could see through the plastic blinds, her silhouette seemed to look right at him.
Can she see me?
His mind raced. Were there any other doors or windows that she could try? No, only the door and slider on the tiny patio. The rest of the place was vertical.
Wait
, he thought,
maybe the garage door
. No, the door wouldn’t move unless the catch on the electric opener was released.

He realized her shadow was gone. He looked back at the door and waited. He ran over to the dining room window that looked down on the alley behind the condo. No one seemed to be approaching the garage door. In fact, someone from the down the street drove by on their way to work and never hesitated. Maybe she had gone away.

But what the hell was she doing here at all?

He raced up the stairs to the bedroom and grabbed his phone. He needed help.
 

“WHERE ARE YOU?” Livvy whispered, looking down at the etching of Marduk. “We could really use a hand.”

She picked up the book where it lay open on the floor, closed it, and put it on top of the clothes and sundries she’d stuffed in a paper bag. Running from one hiding spot to another, she had sneaked back to her apartment like a thief. She’d succeeded in making it in unseen by the landlord or her neighbors, but now she needed to get back out. Then, a trip to see Mamacita.

As she lifted the bag, she couldn’t help but look at the black spot on the floor where Sunny had died. She hadn’t remembered the white chalk outline. It showed her head, torso, and feet, but no arms.

Livvy puzzled over it until she imagined that Sunny might have had her hands resting on her stomach. If that were the case, they would have burned. She put a hand to her mouth and looked away.

As she exited the building, her shoulder bag bulged at her side, and she struggled with the overstuffed paper bag. At the bottom of the steps, she finally looked up. On the other side of the iron gate, three young men were waiting. She stopped when she realized they were staring at her.

“Where you think you’re going?” said the one in front. His crooked smile revealed a gold-capped tooth.

It was one of the guys from the alley–waiting, in broad daylight. Livvy clutched her bag of belongings tighter.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, smirking.

He jerked the gate, making the metal clatter all along the sidewalk. Even though the gate held, her heart pounded. She shifted the bag over to one arm and reached in her jacket pocket for her phone.

The guy grunted a short laugh.

“You think anybody is gonna come help you, shaman?”

She turned the phone on. The police would come. She dialed 911, but then the door behind her opened and someone from the building passed her. She vaguely recognized him as someone who lived on a different floor.

“No, don’t open that!” she said.

The man stopped and looked back at her.

“Don’t open that,” she said and looked at the three men beyond the gate.

He looked back at the three guys outside.

“She’s a shaman, bro. We got no beef with you.”

The man turned back to Livvy with a look of fear and anger mixed on his face.

“You’re the one,” he said and looked up to the third floor and then back to her.

Without losing eye contact, the man reached out his hand, slowly closed it on the knob, and opened the gate, smiling at Livvy.

“No, don’t!” Livvy pleaded.

“Right on,” said one of the other guys.

Livvy started to back up the steps.

“Got you now,” said the first one.

She dropped the paper bag as she tried to get back in the building, but he grabbed her from behind and jerked her backwards, down the steps. Her phone went skittering across the cement path. As she whirled around, she saw the neighbor glancing back as he hurried down the sidewalk.

Someone was crossing the street, even heading in her direction. She was about to yell for help, but all three of the punks were on her in seconds, trying to force her to the ground. A switchblade in somebody’s hand snapped open.

“Let her go,” said a voice from somewhere behind them.

“Beat it,” said one of the guys.

“I said, let her go,” said the voice again. It sounded like a woman.

“Oh hell no, you ain’t gonna use that,” said one of the guys, but the hands slowly released their grip on her.

“Come on, old lady, you ain’t gonna use that.”

As space cleared around her, Livvy saw the Nahual. She was wearing the same outfit Livvy had seen before. Then, she saw the Nahual’s enormous handgun.

“Use what? Use this?” said the Nahual. “My little old Colt Python, .357 Magnum, loaded with Dum-dums?”

Everyone stared at the gun, and the smile on the front guy’s face disappeared.

She cocked the hammer.

“The smoothest action in the history of handguns,” she said, hefting it in her two hands. “With the hammer cocked, the trigger pull-weight is a little less now, but I know exactly where the break is when I squeeze.”

Livvy watched as her index finger tightened.

“Take it easy,” said one of the guys in back.

“She’s a shaman,” said the guy in front, pointing at Livvy. “She’s only getting what she deserves.”

Apparently her attackers didn’t recognize a Nahual in the traditional outfit of her region.
Thank the gods for that
. Although with that gun, it probably wouldn’t have mattered.

“I will tell that to the police when they ask me why I had to kill all of you,” the Nahual said as she moved the gun across them. The guy on the right flinched.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said. “The old woman is crazy.”

The guy in the middle made a move toward her, and she leveled the gun at his chest.

“
You
have never seen what an expanding bullet can do,” she said, almost sounding excited. “I know that because you moved.” She smiled. “Fool. It will be a lesson for your friends.” She took aim.

The guy on the left pushed the one in the middle toward the gate. The other guy was already through it.

“I’ll get you,” he hissed at Livvy. Then he looked at the Nahual as his friends dragged him down the sidewalk. “I’ll get you both.”

The Nahual followed them with her gun but didn’t say a word as they headed down the sidewalk and crossed the street to the other side.

“Are you all right?” she finally asked as she slowly released the hammer.

“Yeah,” Livvy said, getting up. “I’m getting used to this.”

The woman lowered the gun. “Get your things, we must go.”

Livvy had already started putting everything back in the paper bag but straightened up slowly.

“What do you mean ‘go? Go where?”

“We are leaving here, now.” With that, the woman opened the gate and looked up and down the street. “My car is over here,” she said, ushering Livvy through. “This way, quickly.”

They crossed the street and got in an SUV, a big one. Both of them had to climb up. The Nahual locked the doors, started the engine, and took off, paying no attention to the seat belt.

“Thanks,” said Livvy, looking at the enormous gun resting in one of the coffee cup holders.

The woman hooked a quick left and headed toward the freeway onramp.

“Where are we going?” asked Livvy.

“To see Jack,” said the woman, checking her rear view mirror and then the side mirrors.

“Jack?” said Livvy, alarmed. She wondered if she could jump out of the car without getting hurt.

“Well, not Jack exactly,” said the woman as she gunned the engine and merged onto the freeway. “He has a visitor who is asking for you.”
 

“WHO IS IT?” she heard Jack say from the other side of the front door.

“Me,” said the Nahual. “I brought Livvy.”

Livvy heard something scraping on the tile inside the door, then the locks clicked, and then the door opened.

“Thank the gods,” said Jack, his voice pitched high. “I was just about to leave.”

As soon as they were inside, he slammed the door shut, drug the dining room chair back over and shoved it under the doorknob.

Livvy saw his hands shaking and realized that he hadn’t even acknowledged her. Below them, there was a thump. His face contorted.

“I’ll wait here,” he said, shrilly.

“Is she still in the garage?”

There was another thump.

“Yes, yes, she’s still in the garage. Just…make her go away.”

“Make who go away?” Livvy finally asked.

“Indra!” he yelled.

There was a thump from downstairs. Livvy realized it was the door that led to the garage on the lowest level of the condo.

The Nahual started in that direction, but Jack grabbed her arm.

“Not that way,” he yelled. “She’ll come inside.”

“Well, how–”

“Go around the outside,” he said, pointing at the front door. “Go to the end of the units and take the stairs down. You’ll see the garage. It’s open.”

“Open?” said the Nahual, surprised and also irritated.

“How could I close it?” said Jack, his voice cracking. “I’d have to open the door to the garage! All the beepers are in the cars!”

“All right, all right,” said the Nahual.

“Livvy, you know the way,” said Jack quickly.

He poised himself near the chair, ready to take it away so they could leave.

“Just open the door,” said the Nahual.

Livvy had never seen Jack move so fast. In moments, they were outside on the walkway.

“It’s that way,” said Livvy, pointing down the sidewalk. Then she crossed her arms and didn’t take another step. The Nahual looked back at her and stopped.

“I want to know what’s going on,” said Livvy.

“Indra is back,” said the Nahual.

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

Livvy waited.

Anger flashed across the Nahual’s face and then was gone. Although far from hysterical, she was in a hurry.

“She appeared this morning, knocking on the front door.”

“So, she’s not dead?”

“Oh, no,” said the Nahual. “You will see. She is very dead. That spark, once it is gone, it is gone.”

“What’s she doing here?”

“She came to find you,” said the Nahual, pointing her finger.

“Me?”

“Yes, she wants to see you.”

“Why come here?” Livvy gestured to the building. “I don’t live here anymore. She was living here with Jack, not me.”

“This is the last place she saw you,” said the Nahual. “I doubt that she knows where you live.”

Livvy imagined how her neighbors would have taken a visit from the dead. The thought made her shudder.