The Seer's Choice: A Novella of the Golden City (6 page)

Monday, 3 April 1903

Rafael watched while the two women unloaded their guns a final time. Mrs. Anjos handled hers gingerly, as if she held a snake. Miss Jardim, on the other hand, wore a grim face but didn’t back down. She’d shown decent aim so far. For beginners, they’d done well.

Mrs. Gaspar stood to one side throughout, an amused smile on her face. She hadn’t touched either of the guns—too much steel for her to handle—but watched the proceedings with keen interest. “Now the question is whether you’ll have that gun when you need it.”

“I’d prefer that neither of them ever need one,” Rafael pointed out.

One of the Lady’s black brows lifted. “But are we not here specifically because Miss Jardim didn’t have one when needed?”

Rafael seriously doubted Miss Jardim would have shot the man at her door Saturday night, even if she’d had a loaded gun in her hand. He wasn’t going to say that, though. “Indeed we are,” he said. “That is why I’m going to suggest that Miss Jardim take this gun back to her rooms.”

The young lady in question didn’t look entirely pleased by the idea. Even so, she laid the gun back into its wooden case and set it to one side. “I can do that.”

“If you practice enough,” he reassured her, “you
will
become comfortable with it.”

Miss Jardim’s lips twisted in a thoughtful pout, but she didn’t argue.

A short time later when they’d returned to the station, he offered to walk with Miss Jardim back to her boarding house. She nodded quickly and, with her box tucked tightly under one arm, followed him from the station.

They chatted as they walked along, primarily about books, which surprised him a bit. They shared several favorite writers. “I wouldn’t have thought you the bookish sort,” he admitted as they turned the corner onto Carmelitas Street.

“I have plenty of time to read now,” she said. “Before, when I was . . .”

“. . . embroiled in society?” he supplied when she couldn’t find the words.

“Yes. I didn’t have much time to read then. Or go to museums or do anything other than go to one social function after another.”

“Do you miss it?” he asked.

She walked on for a moment, her head bowed as if she was pondering that. The light breeze tugged at her skirt as she walked. “Not much. I don’t miss the hurrying about and the gossip and trying to be certain that I wore my clothes to best advantage. I don’t miss the feeling that I was useless.”

“It’s a different kind of life,” he observed.

“Yes.” She hopped over a broken paving stone. “I do miss a few of my friends, but if I tried to talk to them now, they would pretend they didn’t know me.”

“If they did so, they were never your friends.” He’d wondered if she missed having servants and fine clothes. Did she miss being wealthy? “Is that all you miss?”

“I miss my sisters and my mother.” She smiled a little sadly, and then wistfully added, “I miss dancing.”

She’d surprised him again. “Dancing?”

She laughed softly. “It was the one thing I did well. I’m not musical and can’t paint or sketch. My needlework is embarrassingly deficient. But I could always dance. If it were a respectable occupation, I would probably have tried to find work doing so.”

Dancing was
not
respectable, especially for someone well born. It was often one step away from prostitution. “So you had to settle for the police.”

“I did,” she said with a laugh in her voice. They had reached the door of her boarding house, and she paused outside. “Thank you, Captain. This does make me feel more secure.” She patted the side of the box that she still held under her arm.

“Well, given that you haven’t seen your attacker since the last incident, I’ll hope you don’t need it.”

“I hope not. Good night, then,” she said.

“Actually, I want to speak with your landlady before I leave. Would you mind introducing me to her?”

Miss Jardim seemed startled by his request, but quickly agreed. She led him into the front room of the boarding house, a shabby room with furnishings that looked like they’d been there for fifty years. He hoped this wasn’t an indicator of the condition of Miss Jardim’s rented room, but it probably was. The black-shawled landlady predated the furnishings, her white hair piled on her head and her gnarled hands covered with knitted mitts. She seemed pleasant though, and proved to be very concerned about Miss Jardim’s unexpected intruder.

“I wanted you to know, Mrs. Ventura,” he said, “that we take this threat quite seriously. There will be an officer in the square at night who’s been told of the problem, but I wondered if you would be willing to lock the front door earlier?”

“I plan on it, Captain,” the woman said, reaching over to pat Miss Jardim’s knee. “I’m glad you’re not like that other officer who came here, calling Miss Jardim a liar.”

“Some men don’t understand the threats women face. I have a bit more experience in that area.”

The old woman nodded sagely. After a few more minutes of discussion with her, Rafael took his leave, grateful that the woman genuinely seemed to care about her renters. The house might not be finely furnished, but that was secondary to safety in his mind. When he stepped onto the street, he quickly located the young officer who would watch the house overnight. “Do you understand who your quarry is?”

The young officer nodded. “Older man, white hair, average height, looks angry. A bit vague, sir, but if he moves toward the house he should be easy enough to spot.”

Rafael had to hope that would be true. If this man meant to threaten Miss Jardim again, Rafael wanted him stopped. “Good. Stay alert.”



Genoveva peered down at the street, watching the captain talk to a young policeman in the intersection. She couldn’t see the captain’s face, so she wasn’t sure what they were discussing, but it was probably something about her. She eased to one side of the window and lowered the filmy old curtain so he wouldn’t see her watching if he looked up.

She was amazed that the captain, who’d never spoken more than a handful of words to her before the problem with Medeiros, was taking such an interest in her safety. It was strangely gratifying. If it had been Captain Pinheiro asking her to dine with him instead of Medeiros, she probably would have agreed. Medeiros was childish and self-centered, a social climber. The captain was none of those things. Of course, he
was
several years older than Medeiros, but Genoveva suspected it wasn’t merely age that made the difference.

Now that she’d spent time in his company, she could see why he’d been made captain. He handled people well. He assessed others quickly. And he listened, which was a gift all its own. Most people didn’t know how to do that. But he’d sat through Mrs. Ventura’s banter and hadn’t rolled his eyes or tried to hurry the old woman. He’d been patient. She liked him even better for that.

Thursday, 30 April 1903

R
AFAEL WOKE EARLY
on Thursday morning, as he often did. After visiting the water closet, he returned to his bedroom, sat down with his back against the headboard, crossed his ankles, and closed his eyes. He took several deep breaths and said a quick prayer to Saint Ágabo, asking for guidance as the Jesuit brothers had taught him.

It had been his morning ritual for months now, a meditative period during which he accessed his seer’s gift. And while he could rarely foretell events weeks away, he was very accurate in the short term. He went through his normal queries, asking himself if each of his men would get through the day safely, the inspectors and their wives, his family, his friends.

His cousin Joaquim would be in danger today. He tried to chase down exactly how, but Rafael didn’t know enough of his situation to know what sort of danger Joaquim would land in. His other cousin, Duilio, would be going to Joaquim’s aid, but since Duilio was far away on the
Ilhas das Sereias
, it would take days to reach Barcelona, where Joaquim and his wife were now.

Rafael considered taking the train to Barcelona, but he worried that the man chasing Miss Jardim might catch her. He felt unsafe leaving the Golden City at the moment.

Who could go in his place? He had no contacts in Barcelona, but his aunt did. Perhaps if he went later this morning and asked her, she might have an answer.

That decided, he turned his meditations on Genoveva Jardim herself. Would she be safe? The answer that came back to him didn’t tell him of death, but it certainly indicated a threat. His eyes opened. Surely that meant her attacker would return. Didn’t it?

He closed his eyes again and sought an answer. Unfortunately, his gift didn’t give him one. That meant that either the situation was too unpredictable, or the person threatening her was. He didn’t like either possibility. He spent some time posing questions one way and then another, trying to figure out what that unpredictable factor was, but failed.

He rarely asked himself the next question. It seemed indulgent and self-serving, and nearly an improper use of his gift.

Will I marry Genoveva
?

For the first time in months, the answer didn’t come back as
yes
. It wasn’t
no
, either. It was
uncertain
.

Rafael opened his eyes and swung his feet over the side of his bed. Whatever was threatening her safety must also be threatening
his
future. And he couldn’t let that happen. Not now that he’d let himself begin to care about her. That would be damnably unfair.

He’d been meditating longer than usual, so he hurriedly dressed and headed for the station. Once on the street, though, he changed his mind. Instead of the station, he headed down toward the Clérigos Church with its tall tower where Miss Jardim attended Mass.

Since she’d first spotted her attacker a week before as she left Mass, Rafael stayed to the far side of the street and watched as the parishioners began to file out of the church. There were plenty of men who fit the description she’d given, but none seemed inclined to stay about and wait for her to emerge. She finally came out of the church and almost immediately spotted him standing there across the street.

Rafael gestured for her to go on her way. She nodded once, and began walking uphill toward Boavista and the police station. He trailed her at some distance, catching up while she paused at a café and ordered a coffee with milk. As she stood at the counter sipping her coffee, he came up behind her. “It’s only me, Miss Jardim.”

“Did you see anyone?” she asked after he ordered a coffee and a sweet roll.

Rafael shook his head. “He didn’t follow you out of Mass, at least.”

“Did you think he would come back today?”

She hadn’t seen the man since the incident, so her question made sense. She likely hoped it was all over with.

“I had a bad feeling about today,” he admitted. “Nothing more specific than that, I’m afraid. So I thought I should check on you.”

“You mean you had a bad feeling about
me
today.”

He wasn’t going to lie. “Yes, Miss Jardim.”

The waiter set his coffee on the counter. Rafael picked up the little cup and drank half of it at once. Miss Jardim’s brows rose, but she merely smiled as she took another sip of hers. “Yes, I’m rushing,” he admitted. “I’d prefer not to linger here.”

This was an indefensible spot, since there was a crowd of people pushed up close together at the counter, standing there to drink their coffee. When she set down her cup, he drank the last of his. He left enough money on the counter to pay for both their tabs, grabbed the sweet roll, and steered Miss Jardim out of the crowd and back onto the sidewalk.

Once they were on their way again, she said, “You didn’t have to pay for mine, Captain. I can pay you back.”

Rafael glanced behind them, but didn’t see anyone following them. “It saved time, Miss Jardim.” He tore the sweet roll in half, and offered one piece to her.

“I’ve become accustomed to skipping breakfast,” she said quickly.

He hadn’t missed the yearning manner in which she’d eyed his breakfast in the café. “Yes, I’ve noted that you’ve lost weight since you came to work for the police.” She flushed when he said that, but he didn’t back down. He continued to hold out the roll. “You must love your coffee if that’s what you choose to spend your money on.”