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recovered and was starving. As she handed her menu back to the waitress and reached for her tea, she saw SK smiling at her.
    “What?”
    “You did good back there,” he said. “I know it was a difficult one.”
    “Well, it was a weird one, that’s for sure,” she said, looking down, not knowing what to do with the compliment.
    “Weird?” he asked.
    “I didn’t see anybody in the Middleworld.”
    “What do you mean you didn’t see anybody ?”
    “Not one single spirit helper or ancestor. It was empty.”
    SK wasn’t a shaman, but he had worked with so many it was as if he’d actually been to the Multiverse.
    “There isn’t always somebody by the lake,” he said.
    “That’s true,” she said, considering for a moment. “But I’ve never seen it completely empty. There wasn’t so much as a fly.” She looked down at her tea. “I don’t know. It gave me the weirdest feeling.”
    “So, what about this kachina?” he asking before sipping his coffee.
    She pulled up the sleeve of her jacket and held out her arm but the small welt was gone.
    “What am I looking at?” said SK.
    Livvy took off her jacket and pulled up the short sleeve of her t-shirt. No welt there either. She touched the spot but it had disappeared.
    “There was a spark between us, where he tried to touch me. It left marks, but they’re gone now.”
    SK set his coffee down, frowning, and Livvy realized he was watching her.
    “Look,” she said, putting her jacket back on. “Even when I was drinking–”
    “You ever have any dealings with kachinas?” he asked, focusing on her. “You know, on the other side?”
    “Never,” she said, surprised. “I’ve never even seen one there. I thought they were rare.”
    “I think they are and you’re not really their type of shaman.”
    Despite the spread of shamanism to most parts of the urban landscape, the old gods tended to stay with familiar customs, people, and places. The most likely shaman to encounter a kachina would still be someone from the Pueblo world.
    There was also a debate about the type of shamanic experience that different entrance methods allowed. Since techno-shamanism was the newest form, it raised suspicion among traditional shamans. In fact, it tended to raise more than just suspicion. Some traditional shamans were openly hostile. Luckily, shamans never saw one another in the Multiverse.
    “You’re sure it was real?” SK asked.
    Livvy thought hard about it. She knew as well as SK that spirits and ancestors from the Multiverse did not have a physical presence in the real world, pretty much by definition. They were spirits.
    “I don’t think it ever really touched me,” she said, touching her upper arm through the jacket. “Just that spark thing.” She paused and tried to remember. “I don’t know. It seemed so real at the time.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
    SK picked up his coffee again but didn’t say anything.
    “SK,” she said quietly, “you know I’m on the wagon, right?”
    It wasn’t only that SK brokered most of the shaman work in the area or that most of her income came through him. Somehow, his opinion of her mattered–a lot.
    He nodded. “I know it,” he said.
    Livvy breathed a small sigh of relief and took a sip of her tea.
    “By the way,” SK said, “lightning came out of the wall sockets.”
    She sputtered and spewed some tea.
    “Oh my god, was anybody–” she managed, between coughs.
    “No, no, no,” he said. “Not even close. There was just a little bit. Just wanted you to know.”
    The waitress arrived with two plates of pancakes and set them down, but Livvy hardly saw them. Even though the coughing fit had stopped, her heart raced. She knew her face must be flushed.
    “Nobody saw anything. Just me,” he said, when the waitress left.
    Livvy shook her head and looked down at her lap.
    “By all the gods in the Multiverse, why lightning?” she muttered. “Why me?”
    Livvy had marveled at the variety of spirit