Woman King Page 10

  Gabriel went on to say that he was too much of a Frenchman to ever move away. “I might rent some space for a satellite office,” he said, “but to leave Marseille completely would be tragique.”

  Our plates arrived and we sat in silence for a few minutes, until Gabriel spoke again. “Levi, you’ve declared your interest to run for Seat Fifteen? Are you certain? If so, you need to assemble a campaign team immediately.”

  Levi’s concern about my role was coming through loud and clear.

  “Maybe I can step in here,” I said, feeling confident for the first time in weeks that I knew what I was talking about. “Levi, you know me as twenty-something press secretary. I didn’t help run your first campaign. But like you, I have been busy since we closed down your office in the Rayburn Building ten years ago. I have been building a very successful business here in San Francisco, including running campaigns.”

  I had managed to catch Levi’s attention, and I could feel his growing interest.

  “I represent a number of both national and international corporations, as well as individuals, in their dealings with both the media and government officials,” I continued. “I have run a number of campaigns to protect their interests. I have an extensive background in business and development in the Bay Area. I understand the dynamics of election politics. In short, I believe I have the leadership, skills and required relationships to run this congressional campaign for you.”

  “She is considered one of the best,” Gabriel said, pouring more wine into Levi’s glass. “And then, there is the fact that you two have already worked with each other.”

  “You know my work ethic,” I said. “I was the first one in the office and often the last one to leave. This will be no different.”

  Levi was curious, but not sold. “How do you think I win this race?” he asked.

  I smiled. “Well, it’s not magic,” I said, cringing inwardly. “Your money is not enough. Look at Meg Whitman, she spent millions on her campaign for governor, but at the end of the day couldn’t connect with voters. Voters support people they like, people who understand their issues. You are the perfect candidate. You came from another state to chase your entrepreneurial dreams, and after years of hard work found success. You’ve raised a family, nurtured a marriage and now after your success, want to return to a life of public service. You have a background in both business and education; you are exactly what California needs at this tumultuous time in the state’s history.”

  Once again Gabriel vibrated with happiness. He was very pleased with my speech, and, luckily, so was Levi Barnes.

  He agreed to hire me right then and there, offering his apartment in San Francisco as a temporary campaign headquarters. We were nowhere near ready to open a campaign office in Silicon Valley, so using his apartment and my office as a base of operations was perfect. I offered to work for free for the first few weeks so that Levi could decide if I was a good fit for the job. I didn’t need the funds since Gabriel was paying me, but Levi just laughed and said money was not an issue.

  Within a matter of days, he’d paid my first month’s salary and deposited $1 million in a campaign account “to get us started.”

  ****

  CHAPTER 16

  Aidan was sitting at his desk, deep in thought, when I arrived one evening a week later to brief him on my progress.

  “Knock, knock,” I said as I walked into his office.

  “The intrepid consultant returns,” he said, swiveling his chair away from his computer to face me as I took a seat across from his desk. “How are things going?”

  “So far, so good. I’m writing a campaign plan and interviewing pollsters,” I said. “Most evenings after sundown, I’m here, training with Elsa.”

  “And the campaign?”

  “The campaign seems almost too good to be true,” I said. “How often does an open congressional seat appear with few competitors vying for it? It’s a district representing a huge portion of the state’s population and wealth. Admittedly, not nearly as sexy as San Francisco, it’s still home to billions in venture capital and agriculture. So far, press coverage has been sparse. But I think we have days, maybe hours to get this campaign up and running before we’re in the spotlight.”

  “And then what?” he asked.

  “I’m certain an opponent will appear, and begin to evaluate their chances. Why not? There’s nothing to lose, since it’s an open seat.” I said. “The big question is whether another Democrat will challenge Levi. I’m going to speak with the head of the Party and see if I can preempt a challenger.”

  “Do you need someone to come with you to help persuade him?” Aidan asked. “Gabriel is good at that kind of thing, you know.”

  “I don’t think we need to bewitch Paul Levant, not yet at least,” I said. “He’s been president of the California Democratic Party for more than 20 years. I know him—he’s salty, irascible, but he does have one soft spot: he loves women’s rowing. I’ve already checked the race schedule. There is a regatta coming up in a few weeks at Lake Merced. I’m going to approach him then.”

  “Do you think you’ll be able to read him clearly?”

  “Yes. Everyday it gets a little easier,” I replied. “Besides, Levant isn’t one to hide his emotions. I won’t have to work hard to know what’s in his heart.”

  “That’s fortunate,” Aidan said. “We have had great difficulty in some of our other races trying to get ahead of the opposition. Too much magic is too obvious, so we take baby steps.”

  “Why can’t you just put a spell on an entire town?” I asked, only slightly in jest. “Who would know?”

  “We would,” he replied. “I’m afraid it’s against the rules.”

  There were, it turned out, a myriad of rules to follow when it came to the Council. Secrecy was reinforced at every opportunity. We were to monitor and possibly intervene on behalf of humans, but without drawing attention to the organization or ourselves. I was never to discuss my skills with anyone, even my family, which in my case seemed like an unnecessary rule since my mother already knew what I could do. We also were forbidden to attract the attention of the police or other authorities. That rule caught my attention.

  “That reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” I said, changing the subject. “I was reading the rule about not attracting the interest of the police and it got me wondering if there are really Others who break the law.”

  My question brought an immediate rush of Aidan’s anxiety to my solar plexus.

  “There are Others involved in every facet of life: Navy Seals, astronauts and yes, even criminals,” he said, a reluctance in his voice.

  “Criminals,” I repeated, as if it were the first time I’d heard the word.

  “You’d be surprised,” he said.

  I was surprised and I wanted to pry further, but a glance at my watch told me I was now late to my appointment with Elsa, so I nodded and left the room.

  Elsa was engaged, face-to-face, with a man in a heated argument. There was a New York Times article up on the screen of a computer in front of them, but I could not make out the headline. Watching their body language, it was clear there was little love lost between them.

  “Hello,” I said, interrupting them. “I don’t mean to intrude, but it’s time for our appointment, Elsa.”

  “You must be Olivia,” The man said, offering me the sort of bitter smile reserved for competitors and enemies. It took only seconds for me to realize he was a vampire—one who, for some reason, did not like me at all.

  “We are, it seems, to have a human in our midst.”

  “Olivia, this is Nikola,” Elsa interjected before I could respond. “He’s a member of the eastern European delegation and next in line as deputy to the director.”

  He was also up to something; his energy was as dark as a lump of coal. Darkness suited him. Tall, lean, and looming, Nikola was the perfect embodiment of the menacing undead.

  “Hello, Nikola,” I said, intentionally ign
oring his remark about humans. I returned his gaze, making sure to look him in the eye before I turned my attention to the computer screen to take a closer look at the headline, which announced that a former Serbian army general had been convicted of war crimes at the International Court of Justice at the Hague.

  “Were you two talking about this?” I asked, pointing to the screen.

  “I’m sure it does not concern you,” Nikola said.

  “I’m a member of this organization,” I replied.

  “We can discuss it later,” Elsa said, cutting me off again. “We need to get started on our work. Nikola, if you’ll excuse us…”

  Before I could ask any questions, I found myself hurled into a private conference room.

  “You know,” I said. “The first time we came into this building, I didn’t notice so many private rooms. Can you make rooms happen to suit your needs?”

  In response, Elsa pointed to a piece of paper on a large conference table. It was some kind of map of the city. But not the type normally drawn by the U.S. Geological Survey. Instead of the usual lots and blocks, the map contained numerous vibrant color images including a picture of the windmill at the far west end of Golden Gate Park and a drawing of the archway on Grant Street that marks the entrance to Chinatown. On another part of the map there was a lone dragon floating above a doorway and a statue of Willie Mays in front of AT&T Park. I also recognized the fountain in the music concourse outside the museum depicted among the map’s other images.

  “It’s a map,” I said, knowing I was stating the obvious. “What are these images?”

  Elsa ran her fingers along the drawings. “These are the locations of the portals hidden across the city. Although you can carry a copy of the map with you, it would be easier if you memorize the locations.”

  Memorizing was never one of my strong suits. “That doesn’t sound easier,” I said. “I’d rather have a copy.”

  “You can’t walk around with a paper copy of the map in your hands,” Elsa said. “If you choose to have a copy it will have to be imprinted onto your skin with a spell, but…”

  “But what?” I asked.

  “Well, I don’t recommend it,” Elsa said. “For one thing, it introduces your body to a powerful form of old magic that is painful, and two, it can be difficult to be on the run and try to conjure the map up onto your skin.”

  I was trying to decide which part of her remarks to deal with first: the part about it being painful, the fact that that you could use witchcraft to do something like that, or the part about being on the run. “Could you elaborate more on the part about ‘being on the run?’” Day by day, the Council was beginning to feel more complicated.

  “I’m not trying to frighten you, Olivia, but our situation is different,” she said. “Like you, we have a mix of good and bad people, but in the human world you walk away when someone bothers you. In our world, now your world, you won’t always be able to do that. You will need the portals. They also can be a great shortcut if you are ever running late.”

  I could tell that Elsa was being honest. She wasn’t trying to frighten me, but she was worried about my safety. What she was hiding, I couldn’t really say. I wasn’t sure if her worries were real, or the result of living centuries on high alert. Our conversation brought me down to earth again. My responsibilities for the campaign were lengthy and serious. I felt the weight, but I welcomed it. I was happy to be involved and pressed to do my best. I knew how to do that.

  The Council was something altogether different. I had a tracking device in my arm near the pulse point at my wrist, and as surely as I could feel my heart beat through my skin, so too could these people find me. I had agreed to run a campaign for Levi Barnes, but I really worked for the Council, an organization that sounded lofty in its ideals but had its own fractured political environment. Layer-by-layer, I was starting to realize the complexity of the commitment I’d made.

  Elsa in her own way was making sure I understood. It was clear that she did not mean to harm me. She did not even mean to warn me. It was well past the time for that. I was already tagged and ready for duty. Elsa, it seemed, was trying to accomplish what my mother had hoped to do. She was preparing me for my life, my new life. She wasn’t my mother, and maybe that made it easier. It wasn’t her fault that the things I needed to know were intimidating.

  “I’m not all that good at memorization,” I said again, looking her straight in the eye. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather have the map imprinted on me.”

  She nodded, her green eyes signaling comprehension. “We will need to find the old witch who lives nearby. Nadia will bind the map to you.”

  After we finished our discussion about the map, we practiced blocking, another skill Elsa insisted I needed to have. Blocking is the act of keeping people out of your head so they can’t read your thoughts or harm you. I thought I had mastered that skill in the first few days after my peyote trip when we had ridden trains around the city. But she was not backing down.

  “Didn’t I already do this on the train,” I repeated. “What else is there to know?”

  Her reply was swift. Elsa pushed against me with her mind with so much force that I almost fell off my chair. As I feebly tried to block her, my nose began to gush blood.

  “See what I mean,” she said, handing me a tissue. “Blocking is like one of the baseball games you love so much. Energy shifts. One distraction, one error and you can be behind in the count, as you like to say.”

  My task for the remainder of the evening was to focus and maintain my blocking. No matter how hard Elsa pushed, I was to resist. I had to focus and not divert my attention, for even a moment. That was somewhat easy if I was standing still watching her. But then she insisted we go outside and run. Trying to block while moving was a whole other story. I had to look down to see where I was going and try to keep her locked out of my skull. As I tore though the forest behind the museum, jumping over logs and trying to avoid obstacles in the dark, I could feel her pressing on me.

  At first I was too distracted to keep her out and she wasn’t even trying very hard. Then my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and I began to use my senses more efficiently. I calmed my mind as Elsa had instructed and began to imagine a huge force of energy surrounding me. It both protected me and propelled me. I could see the glow in my mind’s eye—a sensation Elsa had told me to expect. I was generating a field of energy around my body and my mind. For a short while I was able to run with ease and felt no pressure in my head. Then, for one moment, I got distracted and my mind wandered and just like that…Wham! It felt like Elsa had taken a bat to the back of my head. I went down in the mossy loam of the path and curled up into a ball.

  “Why did you stop concentrating?” Elsa asked as she ran up and bent over me.

  “Why did you wallop me in the back of my head?” I gurgled from the forest floor.

  “I didn’t mean to use so much force,” she said, trying to help me up. “You were doing so well, you were aglow. I was testing you and then—poof! you stopped blocking…” Elsa stopped mid sentence when I abruptly put my hand to my nose, where I could feel the warm trickle of blood starting up again.

  “Let’s go inside” she said. “I will help you clean up.”

  ****

  CHAPTER 17

  After a couple of weeks avoiding nosebleeds and working what amounted to a double shift, I was ready for a break from my duties. Luckily, my need for a diversion coincided with the arrival of a bluegrass music festival. Planned and paid for through the generosity of a local philanthropist, the annual event is a three-day tribute to the twangs and twinges of guitar, fiddle and banjo. The music is performed in several large meadows and groves in Golden Gate Park where bands play continuously from late morning until dusk. Because it’s free, tens of thousands of people stream into town to enjoy the music. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the last days of San Francisco’s Indian summer than outside at a concert.

  On the first da
y of the festival, I printed out a map of the five stages and the program of performers. I perused the lineup of bands and plotted a strategy for moving as little as possible while enjoying maximum sun and music. After some quick deliberation, I decided to make camp in an area where local bands would be performing. Most of the big names I wanted to watch like Iron and Wine wouldn’t perform until early evening. I knew some people would stake out a place now for those shows, but I didn’t have the heart to sit through music I didn’t like for several hours.

  I had invited Elsa to join me, but she declined, saying she had some work to review with Aidan. Alone, I grabbed my camp chair and a thermos of rum and coke and headed for Golden Gate Park. With little trouble, I found a good spot to sit in an open grassy field, directly in front of one of the smaller performance stages. I opened my chair, put some sunscreen on my face and prepared to enjoy the day.

  Technically, you are not allowed to bring alcohol into the park. I say technically because, although the law is very real, it’s rarely enforced. In fact, it seemed to me that I’d rarely been in the park at a festival where alcohol and other assorted goodies were not being passed around.

  Although I was beginning to think of the park as a gigantic hideout for magical beings, and as the headquarters of the Council, the park was also a human refuge. In a city as dense as San Francisco, with more apartments buildings than single-family homes, the park is a backyard to thousands. It’s a place to run, walk, think and get high. Today was clearly one of those days when getting high took precedence over other activities.

  As I unscrewed the cap on my thermos and poured a bit of my cocktail into the small plastic cup, I was tapped on the shoulder and handed a joint. When I’m working I usually don’t smoke pot. I am paranoid that there will be some kind of campaign emergency and I will be too out of it to solve the problem. It was also true that Elsa would have been less than thrilled at my attempt to dull my mind, which she was working so feverishly to sharpen. But I am human. It was too beautiful a moment not to take a little hit.