The Seer's Choice: A Novella of the Golden City (2 page)

He drank down the last of his wine and left Medeiros there, sulking. The man would get over his imaginary loss quickly enough. Rafael had no doubt of that.



Thursday, 23 April 1903

Genoveva usually attended early Mass and then stopped for coffee at a café on the way to the police station on Boavista Avenue. This morning was no different save for one thing; she could swear that an older gentleman followed her from the church to the café.

Standing at the counter, she drank her coffee, one eye toward the street. It was a misty morning, and she worried he might be hidden in the fog. He passed by the café though. A chill tickled along her spine, not a product of the damp morning air, so she left her coins on the counter and hurried on toward the police station.

She lost sight of him in the mist, but as she opened the outer gate of the station’s courtyard, she saw him standing on the opposite side of the wide avenue, on the sidewalk in front of the military hospital. She dashed into the building’s courtyard to avoid his angry gaze.

She didn’t know that man. She’d never seen him before; she was sure of that. Then again, the look of hatred on his grizzled features was unmistakable. It seemed . . . personal.

She stood under the quince tree in the station’s white-walled courtyard and tried to figure out what she could have done to offend this unknown man. Could it be something she’d done at the hospital since beginning her training there? Or something she’d done during her life before, when she’d been one of the social elite of the Golden City—Miss
Carvalho
rather than Miss Jardim? Could he be some servant she’d unintentionally slighted? She couldn’t think of anything that would earn such hatred.

Genoveva closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose, trying to calm the agitated energies running through her body.
A healer is worth nothing if she isn’t under control.
That was one of the very first lessons she’d learned here.

“Miss Jardim?” Captain Pinheiro stood at the entryway to the courtyard, one hand on the wrought-iron gate. He must have just arrived. “Are you unwell?”

Genoveva shook her head. She hadn’t spoken with the captain since the week before when she’d asked him to speak to Medeiros. She didn’t know what the captain had said, but Medeiros had instantly dropped his familiarities and begun to treat her with polite distance. “I am fine, Captain. Please don’t concern yourself.”

He
did
look concerned. For a moment he eyed her, clearly considering pressing the issue.

He was a man of average appearance, of average height, and a bit on the stocky side. His dark hair and dark eyes were unremarkable, yet he managed to give off an air of attractiveness. Despite her youth, Genoveva had enough experience with men to recognize that much of his appeal came from sheer confidence. He neither needed nor sought her approval. She rather liked him for that. He was
honest
.

But she wasn’t going to ask the captain to solve her problems for her. Unlike Officer Medeiros, the strange man who’d followed her didn’t fall under the captain’s purview. And if she did mention it, the captain would probably walk out there and confront the older man, when it was likely no more than her imagination. So she held her tongue.

“Well, then,” the captain said, “have a good day, Miss Jardim.”

Given her shaky start this morning, it couldn’t get anything
but
better. “Captain, I wanted to thank you,” she said before he walked away. “Whatever you said to Officer Medeiros worked.”

“It was no more than my job, Miss Jardim. No thanks are needed.” He tucked his cap under his arm and headed off upstairs, leaving her alone with the quince tree and her rattled nerves.

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Rafael wasn’t entirely happy about leaving the Golden City that night. He needed to visit Lisboa, a favor for his cousin Joaquim. He merely needed to transport some luggage to Lisboa for Joaquim and his new wife, and book a hotel room for them. After a great deal of wrangling with his gift, he was sure they would arrive there on Saturday. He could take the night train to Lisboa tonight, then return on the night train on the morrow. He would be home by Saturday morning.

Or he could hire a courier to do it for him. It was a tempting solution, but they knew him at the hotel. It would be simpler to run the errand himself. Nothing particularly pressing awaited him at the station, and Inspector Anjos could handle any disputes that arose among the men.

He was worried about Miss Jardim.

She’d been upset this morning when he’d run across her in the courtyard. She hadn’t told him what was bothering her, but he was sure it wasn’t Medeiros. It had been a week and a half since he’d spoken with the younger officer, and Medeiros had treated Miss Jardim with apparent respect since that day. At least around the station. But Rafael’s gift didn’t seem to think that Medeiros was being a problem elsewhere, so he doubted that was the reason for the young woman’s distress.

Unfortunately, there were simply too many possibilities for him to track down what was bothering her. A seer could lose themselves in chasing possibilities when they had no direction, so he wasn’t going to fall into that trap. His gift seemed to think she would be fine while he was gone, so he bought the train tickets, hauled his own bag and three others aboard, and settled into his narrow bunk for the trip to Lisboa.



Saturday, 25 April 1903

Genoveva woke late at night to the sound of someone banging on the door of her rented room. It had to be one of the other girls in need of help. She jumped up from her bed and tugged on her dressing gown. They all knew she was a healer and came to her for their little complaints. She opened the door, and quickly stepped back.

It was
that
man.

She froze, terror stealing her breath

He pointed one long finger at her and began yelling, words that didn’t make sense. A string of nonsense.

A spark of self-preservation spurred her frozen body, and she slammed the door shut. She pressed her back against it. A cold sweat prickled on her skin, her breath coming short.

She spotted the chair next to her bed. Taking a chance, she ran and dragged it over to prop under the door handle. That might keep the man out if he tried to come in. She could still hear him in the hallway, his nonsense growing more strident. Then she heard the sound of a whistle on the street below, and dared to hope that the landlady was trying to summon the police.

And then, just as quickly as his strange diatribe had started, the man’s voice fell silent.

Genoveva watched the door latch, hoping and praying that it wouldn’t move.

Sunday, 2 April 1903

D
URING
M
ASS
, G
ENOVEVA
prayed for guidance. In the past six months, she’d worked hard to stand on her own. She didn’t have her family’s money to rely on, she didn’t have a dozen servants to take care of problem visitors for her, and the policeman who’d come to her boarding house the night before assumed she’d
invited
the unknown man up to her room. He decided she’d provoked a lover’s spat and left without even listening to her complaint.

She left Mass that morning without an answer in her head. She ate at the restaurant near her boarding house, the one time each week that she allowed herself to splurge. It was pleasant to be waited on, even if she had no one to share her meal. But halfway through the meal she spotted a movement out in the street that triggered a sudden fear that the man had returned. She didn’t see him, but the usually-excellent fish soup soured in her stomach.

She paid her bill and left the restaurant. She wouldn’t return to her boarding house. He would just follow her there, and she knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be stopped by the sign forbidding men to go upstairs. So she walked. And walked. Her feet started to hurt, but she still didn’t know where to go.

Her wandering had turned her toward the police station. She would be safe there . . . except that this was Sunday. She never worked on Sunday and didn’t know who would be there. She stopped on the corner of Boavista and Santa Isabel Street, watching the carriages go by with all their finely dressed occupants.