Woman King Page 11

  Not long after, I was feeling right as rain and leaned back in my chair to enjoy the music. I pulled out my schedule and read the name of the first band: Three Blind Mice. A trio came on stage, a woman carrying a fiddle, a man with a stand-up bass and, a few seconds later, another man sauntered out with an acoustic guitar in his hands.

  He was pale, amazingly so, with a slight sprinkling of freckles across the middle of his face. He had fiery red hair that hung straight to his shoulders. Before he began to play, he pulled a hair band out of his pocket and tied the hair back in a ponytail. This made it easier to see a small hoop earring in his left ear and to see his eyes, which were a shade of green similar to the moss on the shady side of a log. He had a long, narrow nose that sat above a set of pale, pink lips. He was moderately tall and slim in a way that appealed to me, as I have never been one for bulky, muscular men.

  OK, I’ll admit that I was intrigued.

  But I couldn’t say why he caught my attention. In San Francisco, there is no shortage of tall, gaunt, waifish men to gawk at. I noticed also that he had a fabulous set of tattoos around his wrists and elbows—again, not a rare occurrence. With him, though, there was a certain je ne sais quoi. Maybe it was the way his grey shirt and faded jeans hung on his body. Maybe it was the pot. I was trying to put my finger on what it was that caught my attention when the trio began to play. The moment I heard the music, I knew he was the vampire from the tunnel.

  The recognition was immediate for us both. When I looked back at the stage, his green eyes were gazing directly into mine and he had a slight smile on his face, as if he also was satisfied to find me. I held his gaze. I sank back in my chair and locked on to him and watched as he moved his fingers up and down the neck of the guitar, fret-to-fret-to fret, hitting every note while never taking his eyes from mine.

  In general, romantic fairy tales don’t sway me, especially now that I know that fairies can actually be quite evil. But, honestly, I was quite dazzled by the gorgeous musician making eyes at me. Now and then I would look away to chat with someone, or look out at the swelling crowd gathering. He periodically switched instruments, using a banjo instead of a guitar, but the moment I turned my head back to him, he would meet my gaze.

  I was enjoying myself, but I realized that I needed to bring our staring contest to an end and leave before the vampire got the idea I was actually interested in getting to know him better. It’s been well established (by me) that I don’t have boyfriends. I sleep with men occasionally when I feel the urge, usually the kind of men who don’t want to be called again. This suits me fine. I’m not interested in romance. I don’t believe that people meet, fall in love and get married. There is no such thing as happily ever after. And now, with my newfound powers and a sidekick named Elsa, I am especially not interested in dating.

  Of course, this vampire never said he wanted to date me either. I had no evidence that he wanted anything to do with me. Last time we were alone, he’d abruptly stopped talking and disappeared. In fact, I didn’t even know if vampires liked humans, let alone dated them. But the biggest black mark against him? He was already dead, which meant he had a lot of free time on his hands. To me this was the fatal flaw. The last thing I needed was a guy with too much time on his hands hanging around.

  Having had this entire conversation quickly in my head, I reluctantly packed up as the band was ending its set and abruptly set off, walking into the massive stream of people surging toward the main stages. I was never so relieved to be swallowed by a crowd and I hoped it would help me disappear. I was allowing myself to be pushed along with the general direction of the mob when I felt a whisper of breath against my ear and a set of firm fingers on my shoulder.

  “I see you still can’t finish what you start,” he said, his Southern drawl sounding stronger today.

  I turned to face him and was prepared to deny all when I found myself looking into eyes far darker than they had seemed from the stage. I exhaled before I could stop myself. My God he was beautiful. And calm. He was still giving off the calmest waves of energy I had ever felt. I, however, did not feel calm. I was feeling anxious. How had he found me so quickly, and in such an enormous crowd?

  “Have we met?” I asked, using my haughtiest voice.

  My remarks caused him to throw his head back and laugh. “You spent my entire set ogling me, and now you’re going to pretend we don’t know each other? That is downright cruel.”

  “I was not ogling,” I said, unable to steel myself against his charm. “I was watching you play. I happen to like bluegrass music.”

  “Liar,” was his reply.

  We were at a standstill. As I stood watching him, trying to control my breathing, it occurred to me that he was standing in the mid-day sun.

  “Are you going to burst into flames if we stand here?” I asked genuinely not wanting to draw that kind of attention to myself. I mean, how would you explain that to the police?

  He smiled. “No, I will not burst into flames, but I would like to get my hat and my guitar and find some shade. Would you care to join me, ma’am?”

  It was the ma’am that got me. It was delivered in a velvety drawl that sent shivers down my spine. I was transported to my imagination’s version of the South, with a door being opened at some luncheonette so I could stroll in and order a tall glass of lemonade. And like that, all of my “I don’t date,” “I don’t get involved,” disappeared and I walked off with a strange vampire into the middle of a music festival.

  We walked back to the stage where his band had performed. He pulled several lanyards with plastic badges from inside his shirt and showed them to a guard, who let us both walk behind a makeshift fence. As we headed toward the back of the stage, I found myself ready to ask questions.

  “Do your band mates know?” I asked.

  “Know what?”

  “You know,” I said. “What you are?”

  “They know,” he said, picking up the same straw cowboy hat he’d been wearing in the tunnel. “They don’t much care as long as I show up for our performances.”

  “They must live in the Mission,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

  My Southern man of mystery smiled. “You mean because in the Mission no one would notice a vampire walking around?”

  “Exactly,” I said, glad he understood what I meant.

  “I’m William Ferrell, by the way,” he said, extending his hand.

  I took his cool hand into mine and for the second time I could not control a gasp. He was an old soul. I could tell now why he was so calm. He had lived lifetimes; the energy he gave off spoke of conservation and time. I was amazed at what I could feel coming from him. But more than that, I could feel his strong interest in me. He was burning with curiosity about what I was and was clearly letting me read him to see what would happen.

  “Why are you letting me do this?” I asked.

  “Tell me your name,” he said, holding on to my hand.

  “Olivia. Olivia Shepherd,” I said.

  “Well, Olivia,” he said, stretching out the syllables. “I am trying to figure out what you are.”

  Although we were in a crowded place with people who had been partying for hours, I was leery of saying anything. The Council had been explicit that I was not to discuss my skills or the existence of the Others with regular humans.

  “Shhhh,” I said, laughing. “You’ll scare the humans. Let’s get out of here.”

  William picked up his guitar and we began to walk. We left the festival compound and headed east along the sidewalk until we got to the entrance to Stow Lake. I don’t know why I took him there. I guess I thought it would be quiet and it has some nice shady groves where we could talk.

  By now it was late afternoon, and the clouds were moving in. The light around the lake was slightly dulled, and the sun had to push through the clouds to be seen. It was still beautiful to look at and I was pleased to see a flock of geese flying across the lake, honking as they came overhead. I led William to the inne
r ring of the lake, where a dirt path climbs to the top of what locals call Strawberry Hill. I didn’t have to worry that he would be out of breath from carrying a guitar as he walked wordlessly next to me. When we got to the top, I gestured to show him the panoramic view of the city. He smiled.

  We sat down on a large boulder and looked out at the Pacific Ocean and Marin headlands laid out before us.

  “Are we alone?” he asked, knowing the answer. “Can I ask again?”

  “I’m not sure what to tell you,” I said, feeling apprehensive. “I have only begun to understand myself. I am human, but I come from a long line of women with the ability to read people. I can read their emotions and auras. Sometimes I can read minds. Actually it’s closer really to reading their intentions, not their actual thoughts. I only recently learned that I can do all of this.”

  “Recently,” he said, sounding surprised. “Where I come from, this kind of talent was passed from mother to daughter. Why didn’t your mother tell you?”

  Gosh. Was I really going to divulge my family history to a strange vampire, whom I hardly knew, in the middle of the park?

  “It’s complicated,” I said. “My mom did try to tell me. She is an artist who can pick up on people’s emotions, but it overwhelms her. She has a major substance abuse problem. Her paintings are these mad, amazing landscapes that display the energy of the land in a way that really captivates people. She is an amazing hostess who loves to entertain. People adore her and we used to have parties at our home that would last until dawn. It’s too much for her, though. She can’t separate out what belongs to whom. The energy eats her alive. I was raised in Bolinas where she has a house and a studio. She’s very wealthy, but very fucked up. I never met my father.”

  “Anyway,” I continued. “I had no desire to be like her. It was scary to watch as a child. She could be so happy, but then…”

  “So what have you been doing all these years?” he graciously asked, helping to change the subject.

  “I’m a consultant for companies, and sometimes I run political campaigns,” I said. “Lately though, I’ve had some bad luck and some major changes in my life.”

  “Hmm,” William drawled. “Are you getting married, is it something like that?” he said laughing.

  I slapped him on the shoulder, shocked at how solid he felt to the touch.

  “Don’t tease. I am pouring my heart out to a complete stranger with a Southern accent. The least you can do is be sympathetic.”

  “Darlin, my accent is real,” he purred back. “I was born and raised in Tennessee.”

  “In what year?” I asked, hoping he would tell me.

  “All in good time,” he said. “Eventually, I’ll answer all of your questions.”

  “Are you really a vampire?” I asked, wanting to firm up the situation.

  He turned to look at me and asked, “Are you really a human who can size people up for what they truly are?”

  “I am,” I said, pleased with his explanation for my gifts.

  “I’m glad we got that all sorted out,” he said. “Now, what do you mean bad luck? In my experience, there is no such thing as bad luck. There is bad information, bad planning or bad execution. If you have one of those three, then you usually have bad luck.”

  He did have a point. I suppose when you’ve been alive for as long as he has, you have the luxury of seeing things more clearly and separating out your own emotions. I guess in a way I did have some or all three of those in my basket. I had failed to use my gifts and missed opportunities in my work.

  “I suppose you could say I had a triple whammy. Thanks to a demon unleashed on me by a competitor, I managed to get myself fired from a project. Then I tried to compete for another big campaign. I made a mess of the presentation and lost the work. At that point I got mad at myself and sort of let things go.”

  William nodded, indicating I should continue.

  “I got angry. Then I grew depressed. Around that time I began to have dreams with a great black panther in them.

  And she seemed to want to speak to me.”

  “Oooooh, now that is spooky,” William said. “Are you telling ghost stories up here on the mountain top? I feel like I am back home with my kinfolk.”

  I slapped him again on his very solid, tattooed arm. I was growing to like him and his sense of humor. And there was no denying that he was incredibly sexy. There were worse ways to spend my time.

  “Actually, I am telling a ghost story,” I said smiling. “I have a sort of ghost of my own. Her name is Elsa and ever since she arrived, she has acted as a kind of mentor and guide. I mentioned this awful night when I broke down. The next morning she was there, standing in my kitchen. Elsa was the panther. It scared the shit out of me. I won’t deny it. It’s not that I didn’t believe in spirits. I really never gave it much thought. Now, of course, I know that the world is really divided into parallel worlds, but it was a bit of a shock to see an ancient time-walker sitting in my home.”

  I could see this story had actually shocked William, because he was now looking at me with a new appreciation for my situation.

  “Where is she now?” William asked, sounding a little worried. “What happened to the demon?”

  “The demon,” I repeated, realizing I didn’t know. “I don’t know exactly what happened. When Elsa appeared, everything bad that was happening stopped. Then she gave me this peyote drink and I ran through the woods and saw colors.” I was babbling a mile a minute, the same way a child would quickly try to tell a story. “Why do you care? Are you worried she won’t like me talking to you?”

  William nodded emphatically. “She is here to help you accomplish something important, Olivia. Few humans in the world manage to catch the attention of a time-walker. You have what my dear departed mother would have called a powerful spirit.”

  I laughed. “I don’t think Elsa will care. She…” I was about to say she works with vampires, but I wasn’t so sure I should tell William about the Council.

  “Did you tell her you were going to go for a walk alone in the woods with a vampire?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t know myself,” I said, hoping this wasn’t the end of my evening.

  “It’s none of her business,” I added, suddenly worried I would never see William again.

  William shook his head to disagree. “This is powerful magic that should not be interrupted.”

  “I don’t want to interrupt,” I said, raising my voice, “I am happy to learn what Elsa wants to teach me, but I don’t like being told who I can be friends with.”

  William bent his head down and began to laugh softly. “My dear, sweet Olivia, you have a lot to learn about the world you’ve entered. Vampires don’t make friends,” he said. “They take lovers.”

  And then he leaned in and kissed me. Kissed me until my lips felt like they would blister from the heat. I had no idea how powerful sexual energy could feel until that moment when I opened myself up to it. It was easy to understand now what someone meant by being lost in a kiss. In fact, I was so lost in thought that it took me a few moments to realize I was actually no longer kissing him. At some point he’d disappeared—like he had that day in the tunnel. Once again, I was alone in the dusk light. This was the second time he had managed to disappear on me. I vowed there would not be a third as I grabbed my things and headed for home.

  ****

  CHAPTER 18

  My sleep had been restless, but this time I had the vampire to thank for my insomnia. His kiss had seared my soul, and I’d spent the evening tossing and turning, yearning for him in a way I had never wanted a man before.

  The timing of our meeting, I realized, firing up my espresso machine, was horrendous. I was running a multi-million dollar campaign and assuming a new role as a consultant. My window for romance was slim at best, assuming I could even find William Ferrell again.

  I must have been daydreaming because I did not hear Elsa come into the kitchen. “How was the concert?” she asked.

>   “Good, fun,” I said. “I met a vampire. His name is William.”

  “You met a vampire, as in he came up and introduced himself?”

  “Yes. Sort of…what I mean is I had been staring at him, err watching him perform. He’s in a band,” I managed to stutter out, sounding like a teenager.

  “And, what happened?” she asked, sounding like my mother, which got my defenses up.

  “I am over thirty years old,” I said, sounding more like a teenager. “I can take care of myself.”

  Elsa was shaking her head in a way that oddly reminded me of William. Once again I was going to be lectured on all the things I didn’t know. I held my hands out in front of me to indicate I wasn’t in the mood.

  “Listen, he already told me I didn’t know what I was getting into,” I said. “And he told me you would not approve at all.”

  “He was right,” she said. “Vampires are serious creatures, Olivia. They do not make friends with humans.”

  “So I’ve been told,” I said. “Listen. I will probably never see him again, so let’s drop it.”

  Elsa nodded, and I went back to making myself a cappuccino. Once that was out of the way, we discussed how to contact Nadia, the witch versed in old magic who would transfer the map of the portals onto my skin. It would not be hard to locate her, Elsa said; she could be found most days feeding the ducks and geese at Stow Lake. All we had to do is walk over and look for her.

  The sun was already high as we climbed to the top of the stairway at the foot of Stow Lake. The trees were lush and green and our surroundings seemed brighter against the brilliant October sky. There were turtles sunning themselves on logs, and ducks resting on the grass as Elsa scanned the perimeter of the lake, looking for Nadia.

  “There she is.”

  ‘She’ turned out to be an elderly woman, who despite the heat, was dressed in multiple layers of clothing: tights, floral dress and a large cardigan sweater. And for good measure she had a floral scarf tied around her head and knotted at her chin. Next to her was a worn red wagon stuffed full of bags of bread pieces and birdseed. Nadia, it seemed, was well stocked for her work.