Shaman, Lover, Warrior: An Urban Fantasy Thriller (Olivia Lawson Techno-Shaman Book 5) Read online

  CONTENTS

  Title

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Chapter Eighty

  Chapter Eighty-One

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  About the Author

  More Books at Amazon

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  SHAMAN

  LOVER

  WARRIOR

  OLIVIA LAWSON TECHNO-SHAMAN BOOK 5

  M. TERRY GREEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  LIVVY DESPISED LANDINGS. Her stomach flip-flopped.

  “Look,” SK said, leaning across her. “Here comes the Hollywood Sign.”

  The plane lurched downward, and she gripped both armrests.

  “Oh gods,” she muttered. The pilot’s voice is much too calm. It probably means something is wrong. Santa Ana winds and clear air turbulence. What does that even mean?

  “You’re going to miss it,” SK said, but she barely heard him. The jet engine throttled up to a high-pitched whine. The massive airliner shuddered. “Liv,” he said, “you can’t see it if your eyes are closed.”

  “That’s okay,” she managed to get out, her voice an octave higher than normal. “I’ll see it later. You know. From the ground.”

  She thought she heard him chuckle but she couldn’t be sure. How can he be so relaxed? His smaller hand covered the back of hers, and a spark popped between them. Though she kept her eyes to mere slits, she looked sideways and down at him. Of all things, he was smiling. Light from the oval window next to her danced in his amber eyes.

  Will I ever get used to that color?

  He’d said it had taken time to get used to her white hair, but it was hardly a fair comparison. It’d been white when they’d met, her vision quest months behind her. But the changes that had overcome him in Guatemala were only weeks behind them.

  Without warning, the plane spun–or so it seemed. Livvy pushed her head hard into the headrest. A wild, whirling swept through her, and she tried to counteract it by twisting in her seat. She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a breath.

  “Liv?” SK said. “Are you all right?”

  “No,” she whispered. “Everything…is spinning.”

  He gripped her hand. “Motion sickness,” he said. “We’ll be on the ground soon.”

  “It’s not that,” she said. “It’s…”

  But she couldn’t find the words. It was as though the world was revolving around her, turning in midair, spinning right. Her head involuntarily turned left, toward SK.

  “Maybe if you open your eyes,” he said. The plane jerked upward with a bump. “Liv, try to open your eyes.”

  She only managed to get one eye open to find SK’s face moving sideways, smearing. Though the effect was surreal, it wasn’t what made her breath catch. All around them was a dense forest of brightly glowing, yellow lines. They danced through the cabin of the plane, piercing it from top to bottom, sweeping from front to back.

  “Just hold on,” he said as he leaned close and entwined his arm with hers.

  She clutched his bicep just as the whirling stopped and the yellow forest disappeared.

  “What the…” she muttered.

  A loud bump and tilt of the plane made a child behind them shriek. Livvy gasped.

  “Almost there,” SK said, patting her hand.

  Livvy had been a nervous passenger for as long as she could remember. She’d never liked flying. But she’d also never experienced vertigo or seen a huge mesh of yellow lines. It felt as if they’d passed through something. But what? Outside her window, the tall buildings of Century City zoomed by. Everything seemed normal. They had to be getting close to the ground. She turned to SK to find worry furrowing his forehead.

  “I think it’s gone,” she said.

  “The motion sickness?”

  “No,” she said, though the thought of being sick nearly brought it on. “No,” she said emphatically as the San Diego Freeway slipped by underneath them. “It was more like vertigo, except for the technicolor light show.”

  “The what?” he asked, scowling.

  SK hadn’t seen it. More than likely, no one on the plane had, but Livvy wasn’t surprised. Though the realization was only just starting to dawn on her, she knew what she’d seen wasn’t from the real world. Though she didn’t know how she knew, she knew. It felt like something of the Multiverse–something big.

  So much for the happy homecoming.

  She and SK had been looking forward to this for weeks. So much had happened. So many people had…died. SK had hardly left her side and did his best to be upbeat. His intense stare now took on comprehension.

  Beneath them, the plane bucked, dipped, and thankfully–finally–landed. The tires screeched loudly in quick succession. The engines ramped up, howling. The nose dipp
ed and the small items that had been stowed under everyone’s seats slid forward.

  Livvy’s hands still gripped SK’s arm, and her eyes never left his. As the plane decelerated, dumping speed before it veered off the runway, he said what she was already thinking.

  “Let’s drop in on Mamacita.”

  • • • • •

  SK wasn’t sure he should have let the cab go. The shop didn’t look open. But that apparently wasn’t stopping Liv. Though she’d peered through the dirty glass of the front window for just a moment, by the time he put his wallet away, she was already opening the front door. The little bell at the top of the doorway tinkled its familiar chime. But as SK followed Liv through, the chiming was the only thing that was familiar. The store was nearly empty.

  “Mamacita?” Liv called out.

  After sitting on the plane, her hip had become stiff, forcing her to use her cane. But now she seemed to have forgotten it. Halfway to the back, she shot him a questioning look that was as upset and worried as he felt. The glass shelves they passed were dusty and mostly empty. There were a few incense holders, some weathered boxes of incense cones, and a handful of crystals in different colors. To the left had been an expanded clothes section. Shaman robes in every hue had hung on several racks. Now there was an unpainted sheet of dry wall that closed it off from the adjoining space. The vast book and DVD section that once occupied the entire right hand side of the store was reduced to a single folding table.

  “Mamacita?” SK said.

  “Mamacita!” Pete cawed, startling Liv.

  SK peered around Liv’s waist to the back of the store. The cockatiel’s cage was where it always was, on the counter next to the antique cash register. The bird’s voice was shrill in the silence, but at least it was familiar. If Pete was here…

  “Oh, now look at what the wind blew in,” said a voice that SK would have recognized anywhere.

  “Mamacita?” Liv asked.

  Of average height for a dwarf, SK was used to the low angle, but Mamacita’s counter was extra high. It would have fit better in a courtroom than a store. Though SK couldn’t see Mamacita, he knew Liv could. She put her cane on the counter but paused.

  “Now how are we supposed to hug if you just stand there all day?” Mamacita chided.

  SK had been about to step around Liv–see why she was waiting–when she and Mamacita embraced. SK saw Mamacita’s plump arms wrap around Liv’s back as Liv bent over to hug her. Mamacita’s round face appeared over Liv’s shoulder, her eyes closed, and a wide smile on her lips.

  “A month of Sundays,” Mamacita murmured. “That’s what it’s been. A month of Sundays.”

  “Mamacita,” Liv said quietly. “It’s good to see you.”

  For several moments they stayed like that while SK glanced around the shop–or what used to be the shop. The change was shocking. He tried to remember how long it’d been since he’d been here. Seven months, maybe eight? Whatever had happened, it’d been drastic.

  “It’s good to see you too, child,” Mamacita said and opened her eyes. Her gaze landed on SK and focused on his eyes. Hands in pockets, he couldn’t stop himself from grinning at her. “Oh,” she said, her eyes growing wide. “Oh, I see.”

  Liv kept an arm around Mamacita’s shoulders but they were both looking at him now.

  “I turn my back for three seconds and look at what you two get into,” Mamacita said, smiling and holding out an arm to him. In a moment, it was a three-way hug. Liv giggled a little and soon the three of them were laughing. Despite the circumstances, it felt good to be home. Eventually, though, the laughter died.

  “Mamacita,” SK said, “tell us what happened.”

  “Tell us!” Pete echoed.

  Mamacita took a seat on her stool as Liv backed up half a pace in the small area behind the counter. She held Mamacita’s hand.

  “Yes, tell us,” Liv said in a whisper.

  Mamacita’s gaze lingered for a moment on SK’s eyes, but then she seemed to settle down.

  “The Siberian Mafia,” she said. “Not long after you left.”

  “The what?” SK asked.

  “Mmm hmm,” Mamacita intoned, her expression grave as she nodded. “Gobbled up clients and shoppers.” Her eyes flicked to the empty store behind him. “Even businesses.”

  He exchanged a puzzled look with Liv, who shook her head.

  “I don’t understand,” Liv said. “Maybe you should start at the beginning.”

  “That’s it,” Mamacita said matter-of-factly. “You just heard it. First one Siberian shaman showed up and then a hundred. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Quick as a wink.”

  “Wink!” echoed Pete.

  “Siberian shamans?” muttered SK. He’d never even met one.

  Pete descended to the floor of his cage, in the corner closest to SK. With a flapping of his wings that sent a few downy feathers drifting through the air, he moved as close to the bars as he could get. His head bobbed from side to side as though he were trying to get a better look.

  “Okay,” Liv said. “A bunch of Siberian shamans.” SK reached behind her and took a peanut from the brass bowl next to the register. “But all your customers?” She looked around at the empty store. “What happened to them?”

  SK shelled the peanut.

  “The Lightning Shaman stopped coming here,” Mamacita said.

  SK had started to put the peanut in Pete’s cage, but he stopped. Though Mamacita’s words hadn’t had an ounce of reproach, SK watched Liv. She stared intently at Mamacita and seemed to be holding her breath. The awkward silence was broken by a banging from Pete’s cage.

  He was swinging his head back and forth and rapping his beak from side to side against the metal. No sooner had SK looked at him than he stopped and opened his mouth. In all the years that SK had been coming to the shop, he’d never seen Pete do such a thing. Even Mamacita was watching. SK held out the peanut over Pete’s open mouth. Pete gently took it from between his fingers.

  “I had regular customers,” Mamacita said, though none of them had taken their eyes off Pete. “Not loyal ones.”

  Pete seemed content to munch on the peanut using the tip of his beak.

  “I’m sorry, Mamacita,” Liv said. “I had no idea leaving would mean...this.”

  “Oh now, let’s not start making apologies just yet,” Mamacita said.

  Though she didn’t say it, SK thought he heard what was unsaid: there’d be plenty of time for apologies later.

  Pete pushed as close as he could get to SK. Though his head wouldn’t fit through the thin metal grill, he poked his beak through.

  “Really, you can’t beat their prices,” Mamacita continued. “Of course, it’s junk. Cheap, mass-produced, knockoffs mostly. But it seems most people don’t too much care.”

  SK carefully poked his finger through the cage, and Pete lifted his beak. Gently, SK stroked the front of Pete’s throat.

  “Plus it’s one stop shopping,” Mamacita said. There was a pause.

  SK found Mamacita watching him intently and wondered briefly if maybe he shouldn’t be touching Pete–except that Pete really seemed to be enjoying it.

  “Enough about business,” Mamacita said, “such as it is. Tell me,” she said, looking at Liv and squeezing her hand. “Where have you been?”

  As Liv summarized what had happened at the Hopi mesas and in Guatemala, it felt to SK as though years had gone by. Mamacita’s store certainly looked that way. Could the arrival of Siberian shamans really have caused her business to sink so fast?

  “A Maya city?” Mamacita said. “And here I thought it was only a legend. Now that would be something to see.”

  “Well,” Liv said lowly. “I’m afraid there isn’t much to see. Not any more.” Then she fell silent.

  Though SK had tried to get her to talk about what had happened, she’d been reluctant. The destruction of Tah-Itzá, the death of the other shamans, even Leon’s death on Second Mesa–it was all taking its toll. Their li
ghthearted moments were fewer and farther between.

  “And the Master of Animals,” said Mamacita lowly. She eyed Pete as he all but tried to squeeze through the bars to get to SK. “I see.”

  “What can we do to help?” Liv asked Mamacita.

  SK nodded. “You name it,” he said.

  “Name it,” Pete echoed.

  Though they’d come to find some answers of their own, what he and Liv had found here had clearly shocked them both. There’d be time for their questions later.

  Mamacita smiled warmly at both of them. “I appreciate that,” Mamacita said. “I surely do. But I’ll survive.” She nodded a little to herself and sighed. “I’ll be all right.” Then her smile faded. “But you might want to check on your friends.” She fixed Liv with a look and then SK. “Yes, you might want to do that right away.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  IT NEVER CEASED to amaze Brad how real everything seemed. He liked the Multiverse more with each visit. Except for the black lake, it was better than the real world–way better.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” Erlik said loudly, stirring the pot.

  It hardly mattered. Just the smell of it made Brad hungry. He picked up the two bowls from the butcher block table and brought them over.

  “Always,” he said, grinning.

  It wasn’t every day that a Siberian god cooked for you, though it seemed to happen often enough for Brad. He’d first met Erlik in the Siberian Multiverse, where he’d been healed. In a last ditch effort to find help, Brad’s parents had taken him to a traditional shaman in the Altai region.

  Erlik used a large, metal ladle and filled the bowls with the savory stew. Brad took a moment to inhale the wonderful, steaming aroma before taking the bowls back to the table.

  The fire under the giant, black kettle crackled softly and cast a subtle glow along the textile-covered floor. It flickered all the way to the circular edges of the expansive yurt, providing just enough light and warmth. Brad took his usual seat on the square, cloth-covered stool. Erlik sat opposite him on the round one and picked up the all-purpose cleaver.

  Like the god himself, it was huge. Once, when Erlik hadn’t been looking, Brad had picked it up. Until then, he hadn’t realized how heavy it was. He watched now as Erlik wielded it easily. With a resounding thwack, he hacked the dark loaf of coarse bread on the butcher block in half. The heavy table jumped with the impact, and the walls of the yurt shuddered. Brad smiled as crumbs from the crust flew in all directions. The burly god wasn’t subtle.