The Seer's Choice: A Novella of the Golden City

by Cheney, J. Kathleen

  All the same, he did like her. Far more than he’d ever thought possible. And he felt alarmingly possessive about her, an impulse he had no right to feel. He’d tried to maintain his distance when Medeiros started to bother her because the man was younger and might be quite wealthy one day. Medeiros seemed a better match for her. But she hadn’t reciprocated the man’s interest. That had been patently obvious to everyone but Medeiros.

  Rafael still had reservations. She was ten years his junior. At one point she’d pursued each of his Ferreira cousins, although her father had pushed her to pursue them since the Ferreira family was wealthy. That was another thing; they hadn’t talked about money at all. And he had no idea what sort of lover she would make.

  There was so much about her he still didn’t know. He could only blame himself for that because he’d been so adamant about keeping his distance. He should have sought her out earlier and courted her like a sensible man would have. Instead he’d remained silent, skeptical of his gift and secretly fuming when other men came near her. That, in retrospect, had been childish. Marriage with Genoveva Jardim seemed like a very promising idea now. The Church advised long engagements, but he couldn’t imagine waiting half a year to marry her. Not now that he’d revealed his intentions. He hoped she felt the same way.

  So he sat on the church steps where he could keep an eye on the door of her boarding house. If the threat to their eventual marriage was her unknown attacker, Rafael wasn’t going to let the man anywhere near her.

  

  Genoveva woke when she heard whistling in the street below. She pushed away her blankets and dashed to her window to peer down. A streetlamp lit the area around the door of the boarding house, and in its light she could see a white-haired man.

  She couldn’t see his face, but she was certain it was him, the man who’d come after her the previous week. His arms flailed, agitated, and the young policeman she’d seen earlier blocked his path to the boarding house’s door. A third man came running out of the darkness—Captain Pinheiro. He caught the white-haired man by the arm and paused, gazing into the man’s face. The white-haired man swung his free arm, and a glint in the light told Genoveva he held a knife. She gasped.

  The captain swayed back out of the reach of the white-haired man’s knife, as the other police officer drew his gun. Seeing that, the white-haired man paused . . . and disappeared.

  Genoveva pressed her forehead against the glass, surveying the scene below. She couldn’t see the man anywhere. The captain was gazing down at his open hand as if it hurt.

  Genoveva grabbed her dressing gown, threw open her door, and ran down the stairs. She’d nearly reached the dim foyer by the time she’d donned the robe. Mrs. Ventura huddled by the door to her apartment, blinking her eyes as if she’d just awoken. “Where are you going, girl?”

  “I think the captain’s hurt,” Genoveva said as she fumbled with the lock on the front door. Then she threw the door open and stepped out into the street.

  The captain spun about, still holding out his hand. “What are you doing outside?”

  Genoveva ran to his side. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

  His eyes flicked down toward his open palm. “It stings. That’s all.”

  She took his hand loosely in her own, reading his health. “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know,” the captain said. “He just . . . disappeared.”

  Genoveva felt her brows draw together. The stinging in his hand came from the bizarre fact that he’d lost the top layer of skin, almost like a scrape. “How?”

  “I don’t know,” the captain said, worry creeping into his tone. “Go upstairs and pack a bag. For two days, at least.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll take you to my aunt’s house,” he said. “I won’t worry about your safety if you’re there.”

  Genoveva swallowed. No, she wasn’t going to argue. If that man had a knife, then her presence here was a danger to everyone who lived in this house. “Just a moment.”

  She closed her eyes and gathered her power, easing the sting away and encouraging the skin to heal itself. Then she let go of his hand and stepped back. Her eyes met his. She had a strong desire to put her arms around him, just to reassure herself that he was fine. But not under the eyes of the young policeman. She recalled that she wore only her nightclothes, and flushed. “I’ll go upstairs and pack.”

  She went back inside and climbed the stairs to her room, a bit more slowly than normal since the healing had stolen some of her energy away. She dressed hurriedly, drew her portmanteau out of the bottom of the armoire, and began picking clothing to wear on a Friday and Saturday. After only a few minutes, she closed the bag and headed back down the stairs.

  Captain Pinheiro waited at the bottom landing for her by the sign that forbade men to go farther. He took her bag. “There’s a cab outside.”

  The younger officer was waiting on the sidewalk outside. “I’ll keep watch here, sir.”

  Genoveva climbed up into the cab. The captain set her bag at her feet and climbed up to sit next to her. Once they were underway, she turned to him. “He had a knife, didn’t he?”

  The captain nodded, the light of a street lamp flickering over his face.

  “He could have hurt you,” she protested.

  “He wasn’t threatening me directly. He only wanted to get past me.”

  To get to me. Genoveva wrapped her arms about her chest. “I never even thought to pick up the gun you lent me.”

  “You weren’t directly threatened, were you?” he asked. “What could you have done with it anyway?”

  Could she have shot at the man from her window? No, she wasn’t an accurate shot, and might have hit Captain Pinheiro or the young police officer who’d waited for her attacker. She shook her head, disgusted with herself. “You said he disappeared. What did you mean by that?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said. “One moment my hand was wrapped around his arm, the next he was simply gone.”

  “He’s a witch?” she asked.

  “No witch can do that.” He shook his head again. “I’ll talk it over with Gaspar first thing in the morning. He’s more likely to understand this. My main concern is to find a safe place for you.”

  With the shades of the cab drawn down, she couldn’t see where they were. “Where are you taking me?”

  “My aunt’s house,” he said. “I told you that.”

  She’d thought that a tale he was spinning for the sake of the young police officer who’d been standing there. “I didn’t realize you have an aunt.”

  “I do,” he said. “Well, very few people know that my father and her husband were brothers. My father was the bastard brother, of course, but they were both born in the same house.”

  “Oh.” She supposed Paolo Silva had to have been born somewhere. “You’re on good terms with them?”

  “My aunt only recently learned of my existence, but she’s very kind. If she had known about me when I was younger, I suspect she would have insisted that I come live with them.”

  “That’s very open-minded of her. She sounds lovely.”

  For a moment, he went silent, making Genoveva wonder if she’d offended him. “Aunt Giana is lovely,” he said, still sounding as if he were holding in laughter. “But of course, you know that.”

  What? The carriage drew to a stop. She tugged up the shade and saw they were in one of the alleyways behind the houses along the Street of Flowers. “Where are we?”

  “At the Ferreira house,” he said. “Behind it, actually. I didn’t want you to be seen walking up the front steps. The longer we keep your location a secret, the better.”

  The Ferreira house? Genoveva caught her lower lip between her teeth as he stepped down from the carriage. He grabbed her bag, set it on the ground, and gestured for her to step closer. When she went to climb down from the carriage, the captain put his hands on her waist and lifted her down to the cobbles next to her bag. She felt her cheeks
flaming. He had to have noticed that she’d dressed hurriedly and hadn’t put on her corset. That was almost as embarrassing as descending on Lady Ferreira in the middle of the night. She’d made such an idiot of herself over the lady’s two sons . . .

  The carriage pulled away, and the captain set a hand under her elbow to draw her toward the back door illuminated by a single light. “It will be fine,” he told her. “Don’t worry. Aunt Giana is away at the moment, but she told me you could stay here if you were in trouble.”

  Genoveva stopped. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re related to the Ferreiras?”

  His jaw clenched and he glanced down at his feet. Then his eyes lifted. “It’s childish, but I was looking forward to seeing you flustered when you found out.”

  She chewed her lower lip. At least he seemed to know it was childish.

  “Obviously, it was a foolish choice,” he said. “I am sorry.”

  He sounded like he meant that apology. And what right did she have to be angry with him, after all? It wasn’t as if she’d asked him and he’d lied. Even though she knew he had a father, she still thought of him as an orphan. “I’m sorry,” she offered. “I made a fool of myself over the Ferreira brothers and I didn’t want anyone to know.”

  The captain reached down and took one of her hands in his own. “We all make fools of ourselves from time to time. Don’t worry. Come on.”

  Her bag in his other hand, he drew her toward the door. He let go of her hand to ring the bell. “It should just be a moment.”

  In a surprisingly short time, the back door opened enough for a footman to peer out at them. “Captain Pinheiro?”

  “Yes, Luís. I’ve brought Miss Jardim here because I need to hide her somewhere safe.”

  The footman blinked a couple of times as if thinking that over, and then opened the door wide enough for them to come inside. “I’ll go fetch Cardenas.”

  Genoveva hated that the whole household was going to be woken because of her, but she held her tongue. It would be up to the butler to decide what was appropriate. The captain gestured for her to sit at the servant’s table in the kitchen where a single electric light burned brightly enough to illuminate the whole room. It was a sign of the changes wrought in the Golden City over the last six months. The electric company had rushed to provide its services to the wealthy households along the Street of Flowers.

  Genoveva sat on one of the benches at the well-worn table, very conscious of how the bright light must be highlighting her tired eyes, hastily pinned up hair, and straining waistband—without her corset, the skirt was tight around the waist. Captain Pinheiro sat down a couple of feet from her, his features showing his worry.

  “What do I do now?” she asked.

  He looked at her, a narrow line between his thick brows. “I’d rather you stay here tomorrow morning, at least until I can discuss what happened with Inspector Gaspar. I can’t force you to stay, but very few people know of my connection to the Ferreira family. I can’t imagine that he’d come here looking for you. They have a telephone here though, so if anything happens, they can call my office immediately.”

  “You want me to sit and wait?”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “I know that’s a great deal to ask of you, particularly since you’re the one being hunted. But it would be simpler for the rest of us.”

  Genoveva covered her face with her hands. What had she done to deserve this complication to her life? She’d almost felt like she had her world under control. After a moment, she gathered her nerve and lifted her head. “I can do that.”

  “I will place a call from the office to keep you apprised of what we’re doing.”

  She nodded. If it would make things easier on the captain, she would stay put.

  A large woman wearing a faded yellow dressing gown over her nightclothes came down the stair. “Mr. Rafael, what are you doing here at this hour?”

  Genoveva rose as Captain Pinheiro told the cook, Mrs. Cardoza, what she needed. “Mrs. Cardoza,” she said, “I’m sorry to be a bother to the household, but . . .”

  The woman waved her hands. “Our lady told us to keep a room ready for you, Miss Jardim. It’s no trouble.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Cardoza,” the captain said. “I don’t think this man will look for her here, so it might be best to leave her here for a few days.”

  The cook smiled at him. “We’ll look after her, Mr. Rafael. Come, miss, you look like you’ve had a difficult day. We’ll put you up in one of the guest rooms.”

  Genoveva picked up her bag and found herself being propelled upstairs. She caught a last glimpse of the captain talking to the footman who’d opened the door, and then she was swept along the hallway in Mrs. Cardoza’s determined grip.

  Chapter 4

  * * *

  Friday, 1 May 1903

  RAFAEL PINCHED his nose and rubbed at his tired eyes. He hadn’t fallen asleep until well past two in the morning, and he was going to feel that lack of sleep all day. But he’d placed a call to the Ferreira house that morning and talked with the butler, Cardenas, who assured him that Miss Jardim was perfectly safe. That helped.

  “What did he do to you?” Miguel Gaspar had taken a single look at his hand, but that was all Gaspar ever needed. He saw things. Not in the way that normal people did, but in a more complicated way. He could see the sum of a person’s gifts, of their actions.

  “What’s wrong with my hand?” Rafael asked. After Miss Jardim had touched it, the sharp stinging had ceased, but it still felt wrong.

  “It looks to me like he stole some of your hand from you.”

  Stole? “I had my hand on him, and he just disappeared. I assumed it’s some gift I’ve never heard of before.”

  Gaspar’s head tilted. “Do you mean he made himself unseen?”

  Gaspar’s wife could do that, simply make others not notice her. “It wasn’t that,” Rafael said. “I was holding him and suddenly he was gone. He didn’t pull away. He was just gone.”

  Gaspar leaned against the wall. “Are you saying he moved himself somewhere else by magic?”

  “I suppose that’s what he must have done.”

  “Fairies can move themselves through the faery realm, but from what I understand, it’s a complicated procedure and requires that doorways be in place to do so.”

  Rafael would point out that fairies didn’t exist, but Gaspar—and his wife—were very sure that they did. It was likely that Mrs. Gaspar’s father had been one of those mythical creatures. “I don’t think a doorway was used.”

  Gaspar scratched his chin. “Perrault wrote of boots that could transport the wearer seven leagues with a step, but I doubt we’re speaking of boots here, either. It could, however, be a magical device with a similar effect.”

  Rafael had thought of a magical device. The past fall, the Special Police had found dozens of unexplained devices when they’d raided a secret collection of magical oddities. Mrs. Gaspar recognized many of them as having belonged to her father before his disappearance, but the majority of them had unknown functions. The Jesuits had possession of most of those and were trying still to safely discern their uses. Despite his respect for that order’s brethren, Rafael suspected they’d taken on more than they could handle. “I didn’t see any device.”

  “It could have been as small as a talisman,” Gaspar said. “And he disappeared when the other police officer drew his gun?”

  “Yes.”

  “At the sight of an imminent threat, he triggers the device and he’s gone, taking a layer of your skin with him. You’d better not lay hands on him again, or he might take more of you than just skin.”

  “Why would he be after Miss Jardim? He was clearly trying to get past us to her.”

  “The more pertinent question was how he knew which room was hers that first time. You said her room looks down on the street. He could have seen her through the curtains at some point, I suppose, but a man who’s yelling gibberish doesn’t sound clever enough to reason out the inter
nal layout of the house.”

  “I wondered that. I am concerned he might have a way to find her. Magically, I mean.”

  “Early to leap to that conclusion,” Gaspar said.

  Rafael frowned. Gaspar preferred evidence to supposition. “He looked familiar, too. Likely someone I’ve seen on the streets before. I couldn’t place his face, though.”

  Gaspar tilted his head, considering. “That doesn’t narrow our field of suspects. Is he going to strike again?”

  Rafael had asked his gift that, in a hundred different ways. “Yes, although not immediately.”

  “That buys us time,” Gaspar said. “Did you send out an updated description?”

  He hadn’t had many details to add to Miss Jardim’s description. He would place the man’s age to just over fifty, which made his white hair seem premature. Nose that had been broken before, pointed chin, teeth yellowed from smoking cigarettes, and eyes that bulged a bit. It was a better description than they’d had before. So his officers would, among other things, be looking for this man. That was about all they could do.

  Even so, once he got his officers sorted out, each out working on their individual cases, Rafael had some time on his hands, so he went down to the Carvalho house to speak with the butler. The man would surely know if anyone had threatened Miss Jardim when she’d lived there.

  

  Genoveva had spent a leisurely morning at the Ferreira house. It seemed strange and wrong to do so, to sit about when she’d become accustomed to doing. She didn’t have a place in this world any longer. Despite the cook’s insistence that she sleep as late as she wished, she awoke with the dawn.

  The captain had left a message for her that she was probably safe for the day, but he preferred she not leave the house, not even for Mass. So she ate breakfast and read a newspaper, a strange luxury she’d forgotten. In the house’s library, she found an interesting selection of books and settled on the couch to read. Time seemed to crawl, though, rather than flying.

  When the butler went to answer the door sometime after lunch, Genoveva went to the library door and peered out, hoping that Captain Pinheiro had arrived with some news. Instead, a familiar woman stepped inside.