Woman King (22 page)

“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 wear 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.”

We stopped by the store and picked up a
bottle of wine. As we walked toward his car, we passed a cheese
shop and William encouraged me to go inside and buy something for
dinner. I didn’t like the idea of eating alone, but my stomach was
grumbling. It had been hours since I’d had lunch, so I ordered a
ham sandwich with butter on a baguette and grabbed an apple from a
bowl near the cash register. William paid for my dinner and asked
the clerk if he could have a small bag to carry the food. Soon we
were back on the sidewalk, William carrying a petite brown paper
bag with handles that said CHEESE DEPOT in one hand, while holding
my hand with the other.

“I want to take you someplace special,” he
said, glancing at me as he spoke. “Time is running out to see it,
so we have to go tonight.”

“I’m all yours,” I said. “Let’s go.”

I glanced out the car window as we left Polk
Street and crisscrossed the city, leaving downtown behind us in the
rear view mirror. William drove the length of Valencia Street to
Caesar Chavez and then on to Bayshore Boulevard. We were moving
southeast toward the old Hunter’s Point Shipyards, where the Navy
had once maintained a thriving base during World War II.

“Where are we going?” I asked, finally unable
to control my curiosity.

“I’m taking you to a castle,” William said
nonchalantly.

“A castle,” I said, “Here in San
Francisco?”

“Yep, in fact, here we are.”

True to his word, we pulled up in front of a
large compound that was hidden behind a massive stone wall. The
wall was partially obscured in places by a number of very old oak
trees. William leaned in front of me to open the glove box. He
pulled out a set of keys and a small black flashlight. He kept the
keys and handed me the Maglite.

“This is for you,” he said. “I can see in the
dark, but you might need some help.”

I looked around, regarding the city’s skyline
in the distance. We were in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but
the pale light of a quarter moon to guide us. As we left the car, I
focused my flashlight on the path ahead of us. It led to a gate
shut tight with an enormous padlock. I shined the beam of the light
on the lock, while William flipped through a set of keys and
unlocked the gate.

“Welcome to Albion Castle,” he said, as we
walked through the gate. “You’re now entering an official historic
landmark. It was built in 1870 by a man named John Burnell, a
Londoner who came to San Francisco to start his own brewery.”

“Why here? This is the middle of
nowhere.”

“Good question. He wasn’t motivated by the
landscape, he was compelled by something lurking beneath,” William
said ominously, guiding us through the grounds toward the front
door. When I shined the light on him, I saw that his face was
animated in mock horror for good effect.

“Sounds spooky,” I said, giggling. “Maybe we
should go in so you can give me the tour.”

The set of keys jangled in William’s fingers
as we stood in front of a massive wooden door with its ornate metal
fixtures. He quickly opened the door and led me inside. I ran a
beam of light around the perimeter and caught a glimpse of an
enormous main hall with vaulted ceilings and wooden crossbeams. A
scattering of furniture had been left behind in the room, an old
couch with a sheet draped over it, a few rickety chairs and an
large oval mirror, still hanging on a wall.

“Don’t move,” William pleaded, disappearing
into the dark. I heard his footsteps, then a drawer opening and the
strike of a match against its igniter strip. He returned,
illuminated by the light of a large candle. He looked every inch
the vampire tonight, pale and shimmering in the light of the taper.
He had taken off his hat in the car and now his red hair gave off
an amber glow from the lit flame. For the moment, I felt utterly
human, and was struck by the difference in our situation. He could
walk through the dark without assistance. It made me uneasy, and
though I tried to brush it aside, my throat tightened with a
feeling of doubt. What was I doing here alone with a vampire?

William must have sensed my uneasiness
because he quickly handed me the candle and left to retrieve
several more. Soon we were sitting on the floor, a sea of candles
of various sizes illuminating the room. “Don’t be alarmed,” he
said, gently. “I know it’s weird that I can see in the dark, but
we’ll hardly ever be in these kinds of situations. I’m not so
different from you, really.”

With the room half-lit with candles and my
sandwich and the wine laid out on the floor, my survival instincts
retreated. It seemed silly to have been so alarmed and I tried to
put it behind me. “I’m fine,” said. “For a moment in the dark, it
was a little unsettling.” We sat for a few minutes and had a glass
of wine. I wasn’t feeling all that hungry, so I asked if we could
take a tour. William smiled, clearly happy to oblige.

“I read in a real estate blog today that the
castle has been sold,” he told me as we walked into the gardens. “I
know the caretaker for the property, so I asked if we could pay a
visit tonight before the new owner takes possession.”

We crossed the grounds, coming to a small
gate that opened on to a set of steps. The steps led to an
underground passage, which in turn, led into a series of caverns,
some of which were filled with water. “What’s with all the water?”
I asked, feeling slightly claustrophobic underground.

“It’s the reason Burnell came. The castle
sits on an underground spring. It has its own source of water,”
William said, clearly delighted to be sharing this with me.

I raised my flashlight and let the beam of
light skim the top of the pools of water. Burnell had carved deep
stone pools hundreds of feet beneath the castle to collect water
from the springs. Each pool was adorned with a lion’s head, its
mouth slightly open. It was a gothic spectacle and although
certainly a noteworthy feat of engineering, I couldn’t see how it
could ever be anything but unsettling down here, trapped beneath
the surface. The room was damp, the air thick and rank smelling. I
shuddered, overcome again with an unaccountable feeling of
discomfort, perhaps a reaction to the energy trapped beneath in
this long-forgotten place.

William gently took my hand and pulled me
away. “Come on,” he said, a tinge of disappointment in is voice.
“This place is bothering you. I can feel it.”

It didn’t take us long to retrace our steps
and return to the main room. We sat down once again at our
makeshift picnic, me with my sandwich and apple and he with a glass
of wine.

“Well, this did not turn out to be the best
first date ever,” William said, as we sipped our wine. “Sorry,
darlin, I generally try not to alarm my companions within the first
few minutes of our outing. I’ll try harder next time.”

I let out a long breath and laughed. “It’s
OK, I’m fine,” I said, touching his hand with mine. “Why did you
decide to bring me here?”

“This castle is almost as old as I am,” he
said. “I have visited here a few times over the decades, invited to
parties by various artists who have owned the property. Now though,
an anonymous buyer has purchased it out of probate court. Who knows
what the new owner will do.”

“Why did they stop selling beer,” I
asked.

“Prohibition. All of the breweries in San
Francisco shut down,” he said. “After that, it sort of languished.
It was also the site of a spring water company, but the main house
and grounds were neglected. As I said, a few artists have owned it
through the years, but mostly it’s been abandoned, a relic out of
sync with the times.”

“Maybe you should buy it,” I said. “Then you
could fix it up.”

“I wish I had known it was on the market. I
might have. Then I could have built you a castle.”

I took a sip of my wine. “I’m not sure I’m
regal enough to live in a castle,” I said. “I might be more of a
barn or bungalow kind of gal.”

“I don’t see it that way at all,” he said and
then stood up abruptly grabbing my hand. In his other hand he held
a candle as he led me to the mirror that had been left hanging on
the wall.

“Look at your reflection,” he said, gently
cupping my chin in his palm. “I have scanned thousands of faces in
my time, Olivia. You were meant to be a leader. It’s etched in
every line of your face.”

We were inches apart from each other as he
spoke. No one had ever said anything like that to me. I wasn’t sure
how to respond. As usual, my emotions around William were a mess. I
was worried about how vulnerable I’d felt earlier. I was agitated
by the energy of the building, and yet so desperate to feel his
touch. In the end, I decided to say nothing. Instead, I stood up on
my top toes and kissed him gently on the lips.

“Thank you,” I whispered, bringing my lips
back for a second kiss.

This time though, he was ready and kissed me
back passionately.