Woman King Read online

  “Too distracted?” Gabriel repeated.

  “Oh, yes,” I said. “She can never look at the scenery as a driver, she has to look as an artist, which is not very safe for anyone. By the way,” I asked, changing the discussion abruptly. “Where are we going for dinner?”

  “You must know that to a Frenchman this is a question of paramount importance and must be considered carefully,” he said, a faux graveness in his voice.

  “Oui, monsieur,” I said, my hand over heart. “Mais j’ai très faim!”

  I could tell our banter delighted him, a thought I said very clearly to myself.

  “I am delighted,” he said, “It’s a pleasure to meet someone who enjoys the French language and culture.”

  Our exchange reminded me that for some reason both he and William seemed to read my thoughts very clearly. I made a note to ask him about it later.

  “I was thinking we would have dinner at an old favorite of mine called Bix,” Gabriel said. “Do you know it?”

  Anyone involved in San Francisco politics knows Bix, a former speakeasy located on the lower lip of North Beach. It is a quintessential San Francisco watering hole that attracts the high-flying set. Once, while dining there, I had been asked to move from my table to make room for the actor Sean Penn.

  I nodded back, replying in mock seriousness, “C’est très cher!”

  “Olivia,” Gabriel said, his dramatic voice returning, “How can you put a price on a good meal?”

  After a few minutes, we arrived at the restaurant and I allowed him to lead the way as we walked inside. I assumed two things as we entered the ornate dining room: first, that Gabriel knew the owners, and second, that he must have called ahead, because he managed to walk in at 8:30 and secure a table immediately. As we were being shown to our seats, I had the terrible thought that the headwaiter might mistake me for Gabriel’s mistress. Once again, Gabriel turned around quickly, having heard my thoughts; he wagged a finger at me as he scolded, “You worry too much. Relax.”

  It should have been spooky to be read so easily, but with Gabriel, for some reason, I did not mind. I knew he was shielding some emotion from me, but I also knew instinctively that he did not intend to harm me, or harbor any romantic intentions.

  Once seated, we quickly ordered. “Two Champagnes,” Gabriel said. “And I will have the oysters.” I wrinkled my nose at the thought, and asked for the steak tartar. Our server tilted his head slightly in approval of my choice and then took our order for salads for the next course.

  After taking a sip of my drink, I decided to ask Gabriel about something that had been bothering me. “You know,” I said. “The one topic we didn’t discuss tonight is the connection between Stoner Halbert and Lacy Smith. Does his demon work for her now?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t think so, at least not in the way you suggest. She is a fiercely religious woman, so I don’t think she would be comfortable with it out in the open. But Stoner and his demon, they would be quite attracted to her and the kind of extreme energy her conviction gives off.”

  “It doesn’t make sense to me that Halbert—a lifelong Democrat—would work for a conservative candidate,” I said.

  Before either of us could speak again, our waiter appeared with a platter of oysters for Gabriel, picked fresh 50 miles up the coast in Tomales Bay. He left and returned a few minutes later, pushing a wooden cart toward us with a small metal bowl fixed into its center. In the bowl was the beginning of my steak tartar.

  Around the edges of the mixing bowl were other small containers with various ingredients: minced shallots, capers, salt, pepper, and mustard. I watched intently; I enjoyed the attention to detail that the dish required and the briny smell of the capers. As the server pointed to each ingredient, I nodded slightly. Once all of the ingredients had been placed in the bowl, he took an egg from inside a small drawer and cracked it over the mixture. Then he gently tossed it all together, forming a small mound, which he served to me on a plate, along with several small warm toasts.

  When I looked up from my dish, I found Gabriel watching me. “I know,” I said. “Sometimes I feel as if I am secretly part French.”

  For a moment, Gabriel’s eyes reflected a shadow of melancholy, but then very quickly it was gone. “Eat up,” he said. “You want to enjoy it while it is fresh.”

  We ate in silence for a few moments until I steered us back to our conversation.

  “Please finish telling me why Halbert is working for Lacy.”

  Gabriel took a sip from his second glass of champagne. “That was his old life, Olivia,” he said. “He made a deal with the devil. Now, he has no alliances, no allegiance to anything. His goal is to win and to be powerful.”

  I was beginning to see the logic, but I wasn’t quite sold. “I understand the part about Stoner,” I said. “But why would the dark forces want to elect a God-fearing Christian woman to office? Her whole purpose in life is to root out the devil.”

  Gabriel let out a burst of laughter, “Yes, yes, bien sûr! And how delicious to be the devil and be sitting right under her nose; even he has a sense of humor, you see. How satisfying to work to elect a candidate that appeals to the worst in human beings, eliciting their fear, their paranoia and insecurity. To help a candidate who excuses the shortcomings of their supporters by blaming their misery on some other religion or culture.”

  “Are you saying that the devil likes to elect conservative Christians to office?” I asked.

  Gabriel shook his head. “No, not at all. You look at it too literally,” he said as the waiter removed our dishes and placed our salads on the table. “The devil has no political agenda in a Republican or Democratic way. He cares nothing for elections. What he enjoys is watching humans reap what they sow.”

  “But you don’t want that to happen,” I said.

  “We don’t want that to happen,” he corrected, pointing his salad fork across the table. “You are a part of this now.”

  “I’ve never placed that level of monumental importance on my campaigns,” I said earnestly. “I can’t function under that kind of pressure, the kind where the world ends if my candidate loses. Now the stakes feel so much higher. No one knows about Stoner Halbert but me. No one knows that he is only running the campaign to cause trouble.”

  Gabriel smiled back with a glint in his eye. “It only takes one person to change the course of something,” he said, pausing to ask for a dessert menu. “Besides, no one knows about you either. Ç’est la même chose. ”

  “Do you really think I will make a difference in this race?”

  “Yes, I do,” Gabriel said. “Campaigns are unpredictable things. Your intuition and ability to read people will be invaluable.”

  I nodded, feeling more confident. It was getting late, but I had one more question I needed to ask. I waited until our sorbet arrived and then I pounced.

  “What are you?” I asked, taking a spoonful of chocolate sorbet.

  “You already know, but you didn’t ask me if I am a witch,” he said.

  “How do you do that?” I asked, “read my thoughts so quickly?”

  Gabriel took a spoonful of lemon sorbet and paused for a moment. “I am a witch,” he said. “One of many from a family that can trace its roots back to the dawn of France. More recently, the Laurent family hails from Aix-en-Provence, where we settled in the sixteenth century.”

  “Do you mind if I ask how old are you?” I asked, watching Gabriel’s bemused expression. “Pardon, what I mean is, are you actually aging, or are you like Elsa?”

  Gabriel smiled at me, a slight sadness in his voice. “Regrettably, I am aging,” he said. “Even I do not possess the ability to stop time.”

  “Can you walk through time like Elsa?”

  He nodded, but turned to the waiter to ask for two glasses of calvados before he said. “I can, but it’s not my main skill. My skill is telepathy.”

  Now it all made sense. “So can you read all my thoughts,” I asked, an image of William poppi
ng into my head. I wondered if he had the skill too.

  Gabriel let out a snort. “Olivia, when you push them to the front like that, then, yes, I can hear everything. Curiously, there are times when I feel like you are trying to send me your thoughts directly. Is it possible you are also telepathic?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “I believe my mother would have told me if she thought the trait ran in the family.”

  “Hmm, it’s something for you to think about,” Gabriel said, signaling for the check.

  We sat in amicable silence for a moment or two as he looked over the bill and placed his credit card on the table. “By the way, about this man you’re seeing…what does he do…Ç’est ton ami? Qu’est-ce qu’il fait?” Gabriel asked. “You know you are driving Elsa crazy.”

  “I’m not sure yet,” I said, as we walked out of the door to our waiting car. “It’s a work in progress. What about you? Do you have anything to say about William?”

  Gabriel raised his hands to his chest in surrender. “Rien, mademoiselle!” Not a thing.

  From the restaurant the driver drove straight to my house. As I turned to walk to my doorway, Gabriel called out to me.

  “Olivia, remember what I asked. Please do not go into the park alone.”

  “Yes, I promise,” I said, and thanked him once again for dinner.

  ****

  CHAPTER 22

  When I awoke the next morning, my first thought was that I would be seeing William that evening. We had been texting each other every day, but tonight would be our first opportunity to be alone since I tracked him down at the nightclub. The days had passed quickly, the campaign occupying an ever-greater portion of my attention. Now that Lacy was entering the race, I knew the pace of the campaign would accelerate, as we were forced to respond to any criticisms she might level against Levi in the press.

  In anticipation of the deluge, my day was booked solid with meetings with our opposition research team to comb through her records and our own. Clients are often shocked that I ask them to pay for the privilege to dig up their own dirty laundry, but it is always better to know what your opponent will find before they find it.

  I pondered these details for a few more moments as I got dressed and walked downstairs. When I reached the foot of the stairs, I caught a glimpse of Elsa in the living room in the middle of her usual morning ritual of yoga and stretching.

  “Good morning,” I said softly, as I padded into the kitchen for espresso. I made her a cup of tea before walking back to the living room. “Do you want to come into the office today to listen in on these briefings?” I asked. “There may be something that turns up that interests you about Halbert and his demon.” Elsa was bent in a sun salutation and did not respond immediately. I set her mug of tea on the coffee table and waited patiently. There was no rushing a time-walker. Finally she came out of her pose and looked at me, grabbing the tea I’d made for her.

  “I would like to get a good look at the demon if he comes around again,” she said.

  I nodded. “You’re welcome to come with me wherever I go,” I said, pausing. I was about to say, “Except when I’m with William,” but I decided we were having too cordial a conversation to muddy the waters. “I mean, you can come with me whenever it interests you.”

  “You were going to mention him,” she said, not bothering to use his name.

  I smirked.

  “Look, I wouldn’t ask to come on a date with you either,” I said, trying to make light of the situation.

  Elsa made a quick sound of exasperation. “As if that is ever going to happen,” she said. “Besides, I often think I prefer the company of women to men,” she said.

  “Are you saying that you’re a lesbian?” I asked, not really caring one way or another about her answer.

  Elsa shook her head. “No, I bed men, but I am saying that after I’m finished, I prefer the company of women.”

  I laughed. “Elsa, that is a very common sentiment among women, regardless of the century.”

  We both finished getting ready and left the house together for the day. Elsa stayed with me for the majority of the briefings, but then left after receiving a call from Aidan. The two of them were spending an ever-increasing amount of time with each other. I began to wonder whether he was interested in Elsa for more than her experience with weapons. Given her lack of ability to read the bigger picture, I was certain she would never have a date in this century without some serious intervention on my part. I resolved to ask her more about it when I saw her next.

  As I had predicted, the day flew by and I was able to make it back to my house to shower and change before the doorbell rang. I stood upstairs listening to the chimes. There was a vampire ringing my doorbell, something I could not have imagined a few short months ago. I quickly ran downstairs to open the door, delighted by the sight waiting for me. William was wearing faded Levi’s, a navy t-shirt and a brown cord jacket with a lamb’s wool lining. He wore a brown wool ski hat sat on top of his head, pulling his red hair close to his face. I didn’t imagine for a moment he was cold. I assumed he did it to fit in, since the night air was growing increasingly chilled as we approached winter.

  “Come in,” I said as I opened the door wider. When he was inside, I shut the door and turned to kiss him. He pulled me into an embrace and kissed me deeply on the lips.

  “Now that is much better than a text message,” he said, keeping me close to his body.

  “Mmmm, I agree,” I said, enjoying his touch. We stayed in our embrace for a moment and then I pulled back and asked him if he would like a drink.

  “No, thanks,” he said. “I thought would we take a detour someplace first before we start our official date, if that’s OK.”

  “Sure,” I said. “What did you have in mind?”

  “A friend of mine is having a jewelry show at a gallery on Polk Street,” he said. “I thought we might go and take a look.”

  “OK,” I said. “Then are we going to the lake?”

  William had a playful smile on his face. “Actually, I’d like to take a rain check on the lake. I have someplace else in mind I’d like to take you, if you’re up for a surprise.”

  I didn’t really care about the destination as long as I was with him. “I’m game for a surprise,” I said, and opened the door to leave.

  Hooks and Catches made its name as a gallery by featuring one of a kind handmade jewelry. Open since the 1970’s, it caters to women who do not want to run into their friends at social gatherings wearing the same necklaces and rings. Tonight they were debuting an exhibition entitled “Carbon Spot,” a term used to describe a black mark often found on copper coins. It was a play on words, since the exhibit featured several artists working with copper and gold, but there were no black smudges to be found.

  We stopped at a table for a glass of wine, then began our tour of the gallery.

  The first artist we encountered was William’s friend. She made necklaces featuring colored beads, cut glass, turquoise and copper charms. They were striking pieces, very primitive and provocative. One necklace in particular caught my attention. It was a mix of elements: a series of copper feathers, several strands of gray, smoky glass beads, and a small turquoise teardrop charm hanging from a ribbon of copper and brown leather woven together. I signaled to the owner of the gallery and asked if I could try on the necklace. He walked over to the case and pulled a small black velvet tray from a shelf underneath the counter. He carefully laid the piece on the tray, then placed a small handheld mirror in front of me. I glanced at the price tag. At $300, it was one of the more expensive objets d’art I had looked at in a while, but I had no reason to worry about money.

  I tried on the necklace and stared at myself in the mirror. It was an unusual piece, and dressed in my current outfit, lent me a sort of a rebel image. I was trying to imagine wearing it with a suit and realized I probably would never have to worry about presenting myself that way again. I worked for the Council now. I wasn’t going to have to we
ar that conformist uniform. I must have drifted off in my thoughts because when I turned to ask William what he thought of the necklace, he was gone. I scanned the room and found him at the cash register handing the cashier his credit card.

  He walked back toward me a satisfied smile on his face. “That necklace was made for you, darlin,” he said.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said, feeling a little awkward at receiving such an expensive gift on a first date. “I can afford to buy it for myself.”

  “I know that,” William said, fingering the necklace. “But my friend made the necklace and it suits you. It seems right that I would buy it for you. Besides, I am of the opinion that women should never buy their own jewelry. That is the purview of husbands, boyfriends and lovers.”

  Before I could ask which category he fell into, William moved me along to the next set of glass cases, which were located in the main room of the gallery. There were three cases in the middle of the floor, all housing copper and gold bands that were embedded with sapphires, rubies and diamonds. As we circled the glass cases, I realized they looked suspiciously like wedding rings and I tried not to glance at any one ring too intently. Still, I couldn’t help myself when I came upon a set of three thin bands made of copper. The middle of the trio featured several sapphires. It was a beautiful piece, very romantic and old-fashioned, a bit like a sepia-tinged photograph. I concentrated on relaxing my facial features and clearing my mind. I didn’t want William to think I was getting ahead of myself.

  Thankfully, as we approached the end of the cases, he said he was ready to leave. “OK, so now it’s on to my surprise,” I said, fingering the necklace hanging from my neck as we walked out of the gallery.

  William did not reply immediately. He seemed to be looking for something. “There is a liquor store near here,” he said. “It’s called the Jug Shop, do you know it?”

  “I do,” I said. “It’s one block up.”