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