Woman King Page 8

  I planned to work through these issues through rigorous exercise and reflection. I left the house on my bicycle and made my way through Golden Gate Park, up into the Presidio and across the Golden Gate Bridge. I continued riding, past the Marin Headlands and on to Mill Valley, stopping in the town’s village square for a break before heading back again toward San Francisco. It was a classic San Francisco day, sunny but with a cold, biting wind. I slogged through the tourists in Sausalito and rode my bike up Alexander Avenue, turning right to climb the hill toward the lookout points.

  Now, after several hours on my bike, my leg muscles rebelled against the abrupt change in grade as I climbed. I was pressing against fierce, chilling head winds, using the confusion I felt as my energy source. Although my body ached, it felt good to push so hard. The wind wicked the sweat off my torso, and I began to feel the delicious tightness of my skin as it reacted to the frigid air.

  My efforts were rewarded when I reached the top of the road and gazed out at the stunning view of the city’s skyline, the beautiful twin spires of the bridge across the Golden Gate, and the San Francisco Bay. To one side I could see Baker Beach and to the other the skyline of downtown San Francisco. It was beautiful, and despite being exhausted, my heart felt lighter looking out at the city I called home.

  I got off my bike and decided to walk through the old World War II tunnels and examine the view from behind one of the gun turrets. I locked my bike into a rack and began walking toward the opening of the tunnel. As I approached, I heard music coming from inside. As soon as I entered, I saw what looked to be a man in the distance, sitting against one of the walls. I could not see his face, as the bright sunlight shining through the other side of the tunnel made it impossible to see more than an outline of his body.

  It was the music, though, that caught my attention. The notes were rolling off the guitar with great sadness and melancholy. Despite the beauty of the music, I hesitated to walk closer. A bit of pressure was building in my head. I took a sip of water from my bottle, thinking that I was dehydrated, before it dawned on me. The pressure was coming from him. I was being pecked at again, which meant that the man I was staring at was actually a guitar-playing vampire. I was in no mood for examination after such a long ride and immediately shut him out.

  Out of the shadows I saw him raise his head and laugh, and then he looked away and continued to play his guitar. It was an easy decision to leave, but as I turned to head back toward my bike, the mystery musician spoke.

  “Don’t worry,” he said in a voice that carried a trace of a Southern drawl. “I won’t try again. I didn’t realize who I was dealing with.”

  I decided not to answer. I don’t normally speak with strangers under any circumstances.

  “Don’t you want to finish what you started?” he asked, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “It’s worth it to get to the other side.”

  I wasn’t sure what he was saying. The previous evening’s discussions had further opened my eyes to the world around me. There were two dimensions to everything. Was he saying I was afraid, or did he mean something else? I wasn’t afraid, although I had never been alone with a vampire in a dark tunnel before. Now that I was really focusing, I could detect a very bright green aura surrounding him. He was very calm and I didn’t feel threatened in any way. His stance made me curious: who was this mysterious, guitar-playing vampire with the velvet-green aura down at the end of the tunnel? I walked toward him to find out.

  Walking briskly, I closed the gap between us, but he made no effort to move or rise to meet me. In fact, as I approached, all I could make out was a cowboy hat, bright red hair and a pair of faded jeans beneath an old acoustic guitar. Whoever he was, it was clear he was not prepared to speak with me again.

  I had been raised to never chase boys or men—a policy I amended on the spot to include the undead—so I gave him a feeble wave and he tipped his hat back in acknowledgment. Then I walked through the tunnel and into the clearing. The air was growing colder and I could feel the fog beginning to push its way in. The chill in the air convinced me that it was time to get myself back across the bridge and into a hot bath.

  Elsa would want to discuss Gabriel’s offer to come and work for the Council when I got home. The fee he had offered me was enormous, certainly more than I made on my own in a year. Although I didn’t need the funds, it was intriguing to be offered a king’s ransom for doing a job I loved doing. When I finished gazing at the churning sea below, I walked back through the clearing and approached the tunnel, hoping to catch a glimpse of the guitar player again.

  When I stepped into the shadows, I discovered I was alone.

  By the time I returned home ninety minutes later, I’d decided to accept Gabriel’s offer. Whether it was the encounter with the vampire in the tunnel, or Gabriel’s remarks, I now knew I had to make some changes. Despite my resolution, I decided to call my mother to gauge her reaction. After all that I had experienced, the visions I’d seen of my grandmother, I felt I needed to talk to her.

  We’d parted ways so badly weeks before, and now I was anxious to clear the air.

  Within seconds of dialing she picked up her receiver. “Olivia,” she said warmly. “You have found your gifts. I can feel the energy pouring out of you.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Even over the phone, Mom?”

  “Your energy is very powerful,” She said. “How did this happen?”

  “I met someone, a woman who’s been helping me. Her name is Elsa and she has been a sort of, umm a mentor. She said Grandmother sent her.”

  There was a pause on the line.

  “That is exactly the kind of thing she would think to do. Interesting that she appeared now…well, then…are you OK? It’s a lot to understand at your age.”

  “That’s funny. A man I met said something very similar.”

  Again there was a pause, but then she said, “A man, you mean someone your age?”

  “No,” I said. “Elsa introduced me to a man, who runs an organization that protects people like us, and others from harm. His name is Gabriel Laurent.”

  For the third time, my normally verbose mother was silent. “I see,” she said finally. “He’s French. What did he want?”

  “He offered me a job, to work for an organization called the Council. I would run political campaigns here, and maybe in states across the country.”

  “I don’t know, Olivia, this is all very sudden,” she said. “Maybe you should take some time off and think about things. Perhaps you would like to take a trip to France? I have an exhibition coming up in Paris, we could travel there together and relax and see the city.”

  “Mom, I would love that, but I need to work and stay busy,” I said. “I feel like I have already been on vacation, the way I have abandoned my company these last few weeks.”

  My mother sighed into the phone. “It’s not as if you need to work, Olivia. Your family has ensured that you have plenty of money. What can it hurt to take things slowly? You don’t know anything about this Laurent fellow. Perhaps he does not have your best interests at heart.”

  I was now able to clearly map the outlines of my mother’s state of mind. She was worried, but whether it was for me, or in general, I could not tell. “Don’t worry, Mom,” I said, wanting to reassure her. “I like Gabriel. He seems very nice. Perhaps it’s because of our years in France, but I felt very comfortable around him.”

  She hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “Very well, honey,” she said warmly. “I’ll have my assistant send you my travel plans. Perhaps you will come to Paris for a few days and take a break with me.”

  I was about to say goodbye and thanks when she spoke again. “Honey, remember there is a lot still to come. I hope you will be ready for all that there is to know.”

  “Please don’t worry,” I repeated. “Elsa is helping me. I feel better than I have in a long time.”

  After we hung up, I turned to Elsa who had been listening in the hallway. “Well, what do I do next?”
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br />   “We should visit Gabriel at the Council offices,” Elsa said. “We can go tomorrow evening. I’ll text Gabriel.”

  “Can’t we go tonight?” I asked, anxious to get started now that I had made the decision.

  Elsa shook her head. “He’s not there. Tomorrow we’ll go. The Council convenes after dusk,” she said. “It must be dark when we approach their offices. If it’s foggy, we can use a portal. If it’s not, then we use the main entrance.”

  “What does fog have to do with it?”

  “Come into the living room and sit down, Olivia. If you’re going to work for the Council, then I might as well begin your education.” Elsa walked toward the couch. “Once you cross the threshold of their doors, there will be no turning back. You will be privy to some of the world’s greatest secrets.”

  “You make it sound dangerous. What happens if I change my mind?”

  “That’s exactly my point; you can’t change your mind. Once you’ve been exposed to the Council, you are bound by its rules. It is a serious commitment. I know, I have been working for them for many years.”

  “How did you get started?”

  Elsa began to rearrange the pillows on the couch, avoiding my gaze. “I told you the story of how I almost gave my soul to the devil,” she said. “But I never told you what happened when I was released.”

  I nodded. “What happened?”

  “After the devil told me I was free to leave, I ran to the stable to get my horse. As I was adjusting my saddle—I planned to ride through the night to get off the mountain—the angel who bargained for me came into the stable. I asked him to tell me how he had won the argument with the devil, but he would not reveal their conversation.”

  “That’s it? He never told you?” I asked.

  “He did not, but he did tell me that there would be a price for my foolishness.”

  “A price?”

  Elsa nodded. “Yes. He told me that to repay my rescue from the devil, I would have to pledge myself to helping others for an undetermined period of time. I have been a time-walker, moving through the centuries, helping humans and Others, since then.”

  “How long do you have to do this?”

  Elsa sighed. “For as long as it takes. It’s been hundreds of years and I have yet to see the angel again. When he reappears I will know my payment has been made.”

  “Well that doesn’t seem fair,” I said. “You’ve been at this for a long time.”

  “Yes, but to ask God to save your soul from the devil when you almost willingly gave it away…well, who knows what had to be promised to free me.”

  I watched Elsa closely. She was beautiful to look at. Sleek and powerful like the cat that appeared in my dreams. Her punishment not only had made her immortal, but it also had frozen her in time. She was not aging. Perhaps when she finished her penance, she would be allowed to grow old.

  “Is that how you came to work for the Council?”

  Elsa nodded. “I discovered them during my travels. I had no idea how to repair the damage I’d done. It made sense to work for them. They gave me a way to have a purpose and fulfill my obligation.”

  “Are there others like you inside?”

  “If you mean people who travel through time, yes there are. But are there others doing penance? Not that I know of. Yet I can’t imagine I am the only person on earth who almost gave their soul away to the devil in the pursuit of power and knowledge.”

  Elsa’s tale reminded me of Stoner Halbert. We all, it seems, have to make our own beds. How did a rising star in politics come to call for the devil? I tried to imagine that much burning hatred or shame; a feeling of despair powerful enough to bypass God and ask for help from the dark side. I couldn’t imagine ever wanting that kind of revenge or power.

  “Is that what Stoner Halbert has done? Given his soul to the devil? What will happen to him?”

  Elsa shrugged. “It’s hard to know when these things catch up with you. It can take years for evil to be rebuffed, or it can be immediate. The circumstances are never the same.”

  “What happens if I decide that I don’t want to do this?” I asked, the proposition of my “new life” suddenly weighing more heavily on me

  Elsa rose from the couch and began to pace. “I don’t know what would happen. No human has ever been allowed to work for the organization. Once you join the Council, it’s hard to turn your back. I can’t make the choice for you, but I strongly encourage you to take Gabriel’s offer. This is your destiny.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Elsa hesitated and I experienced a brief sensation of nervousness again.

  “Come on, Elsa, tell me what you know.”

  Then it was gone; she was good at hiding her feelings from empaths like me.

  “I’m sure because I have been doing this for a long time, Olivia. Your gifts deserve to be used for greater purposes than building condominiums.”

  Elsa’s words stung a bit. I’d never set out to change the world, but she made my career seem insignificant. We get up, we go to work, we do a good job and we come home. Why does life have to be more complicated than that? And yet, it is. I now had the ability to read people and sense their emotions. I was either going to Las Vegas to make my fortune, or I needed a place to use my skills where I wouldn’t frighten people.

  “Text Gabriel,” I said finally. “I will join the Council.”

  ****

  CHAPTER 14

  The next evening as we left my house for the park, we stepped into a dense wall of wet fog. The humid mist on my face jogged my memory.

  “I forgot to ask you last night about the fog,” I said, as we pulled our collars up around our necks.

  San Francisco’s fog is legendary. Summer in San Francisco means never seeing the sun, at least in my neighborhood. Sometimes the fog rolls in gently, bringing a quiet, sultry climate to the city. Other nights, the fog rides the heels of a wicked wind that bends trees and howls through the narrow alleys between the row houses.

  “The fog is a tool of the Council’s,” Elsa said as we walked. “San Francisco is enchanted; a coven of witches created a spell to summon the fog in order to protect our kind from prying eyes. When the fog is present, its easier for the Council to operate and for magical creatures to move about the city.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” she said. “It’s the perfect device for maintaining a curtain between our worlds. It can be summoned at any time, especially if the Council has called a general meeting at its headquarters.”

  What Elsa said made sense. Things that look odd in the shadows are probably easily explained away to humans. The fog obscures light. It muffles sound. I remembered my peyote-induced trek through Golden Gate Park, and how foggy that evening had been. Perfect for hiding a half-dressed woman running toward the sea.

  “Huh, it’s a brand new world,” I said, only half-aware of how true my words were.

  Before I knew it we were standing at the foot of the Music Concourse, gazing up at the tower of the de Young Museum. By day, it’s the fifth-most visited museum in the country. By night, it is the headquarters of the Council. We looked across the plaza at the building sheathed in copper, gleaming in the evening light. According to Elsa, the fog was not quite thick enough to use the portal so we walked to the side of the museum, passing Pan’s Island and lily pond, where I’d spent the night. We continued to walk, bypassing the normal side entrance reserved for museum members. Instead we made our way along a sidewalk partially obscured by ferns. Almost immediately we were facing what looked to be a solid wall of copper. Elsa placed her hand on the door. The area beneath her palm began to glow.

  “Fingerprint recognition,” Elsa explained matter-of-factly, as the outline of a door appeared, then clicked open slightly to let us pass. Once inside, Elsa turned left toward a bank of elevators. “We’re going to the top of the tower,” she said, as she pressed the button on the wall.

  I scanned the surroundings as we entered; the museum’s
lobby looked exactly the same as it did in the daylight. The elevator, which was taking us up twelve floors to the observation tower, also looked the same. I wondered whether the museum’s iconic top-floor viewing deck would also be unchanged. I was, I realized, slightly disappointed. I’m not sure what I expected. Maybe I’d watched too many Star Trek episodes, but in my mind I had conjured up a different world. I’d imagined a series of rooms with glowing flat panel screens featuring rotating, three-dimensional orbs that depicted far-away destinations and tactical information.

  When we arrived at the top of the tower, however, my imagination was rewarded by the sight of a room full of several flat screens mounted to the walls. A dozen men and women were seated at desks, hunched over laptops and iPads, their mobile phones within arm’s reach. At first glance, it could be an office anywhere in the world. Except it wasn’t.

  I looked up to see Gabriel walking across the room toward us.

  “Bonsoir, Elsa, Olivia,” he said as he grasped my hand to shake it.

  “It looks so normal,” I said, gesturing at the scene before me.

  Gabriel nodded. “Modern technology almost makes witchcraft unnecessary at times. We can track people and issues far easier than our predecessors.”

  “How is this possible? Do you pack up at the end of every evening?” I asked.

  Gabriel smiled. “There is not much to put away, and what is on the walls is enchanted. Humans cannot see the panels as they stroll through the deck during the day. The rest is portable. Thanks to wireless technology, our offices transport easily and, for the most part, are paperless.”

  “Is the museum aware of your presence?” I asked, imagining rumors floating through the city about the de Young’s haunted galleries. “What happens when people here work late?”