The Seer's Choice: A Novella of the Golden City (3 page)

Several of the men in her unit played football on Sunday afternoons.

She couldn’t remember who’d mentioned that to her, but she recalled someone saying they were playing this week on a field near the Agramonte cemetery. So she turned onto Boavista and started walking. At least now she knew where she was going

When she reached the field, she spotted a friendly face. Perhaps three dozen spectators were crowded there on the wooden stands—mostly male—but to one side sat Mrs. Gaspar, the wife of one of the inspectors attached to their unit. The woman had ivory skin and pale blue eyes. With her black hair, it made for a very striking face. And while she was much older than Genoveva, she’d always been very kind. Skirt lifted with one hand, Genoveva climbed cautiously up the stands and sat with her.

Mrs. Gaspar had a straw hat pinned to her inky hair, and her lacy white dress hinted at impatience for summer. “I don’t believe you’ve come to one of the matches before, have you, dear?” she asked.

“I’ve never seen a football match,” Genoveva admitted. She gazed out on the field where a dozen or so men dressed in white shorts and white—or blue—shirts, chased a ball toward one end of the field. Inspector Gaspar, easy to spot because he was the only man on that field with African ancestors, wore a white shirt. That told her the police team wore white. Then she spotted Captain Pinheiro among them and realized she’d just received the answer to that morning’s prayer.

Captain Pinheiro would listen to her, no matter how much this sounded like overactive imagination on her part. She had actually gone to his office Friday morning after being followed from Mass again, only to learn that he’d left the city for personal reasons. She was glad he’d returned.

She kept an eye on him as he ran across the field, the ball passing between him and Gaspar through some arcane use of their feet. She’d thought of the captain as stocky, but with his legs mostly bared by those shorts she could see that instead of stocky, he was . . . muscular. He had an athletic grace that surprised her, too; he was light on his feet. He would probably make an excellent dance partner.

That thought made her shake her head. It was silly to be sizing the man up as a potential dance partner when she would likely never spend an evening dancing again.

“So what do you think?” Mrs. Gaspar asked, startling her out of her reflections.

Genoveva felt her cheeks go warm and hoped the older woman hadn’t noted her staring at the captain. “I hardly know anything about the game.”

Mrs. Gaspar smiled wryly. “Well, it’s simple enough. As you can see, there’s a goal on each end of the field.”



Rafael came off the field hunting a drink of water and knelt to pull up one of his socks that had slumped down to his ankle. The Special Police had come off with a tie this time, the young Army players tougher than they’d expected.

Miguel Gaspar jogged up next to him, breathing hard. “What is Miss Jardim doing here?”

Rafael rose, only noting then the young woman standing among the spectators who’d climbed down from the stands. He hadn’t recognized her out of uniform. Today she wore a fine white shirtwaist and a pale green skirt with a dark cummerbund. A straw hat perched atop her brown hair. She looked as out of place among the crowd as did Gaspar’s wife. Rafael would have thought football beneath her fine tastes.

“She’s looking for you,” Gaspar added before heading toward his wife.

Rafael glanced at Miss Jardim again. She clearly was looking for him.
How very interesting
. When she saw he’d spotted her, she waved briefly and came his way, pushing past a handful of rowdy soldiers to reach him. One of them grabbed at her skirts, earning him a glare. Miss Jardim stuck her nose in the air and yanked away from him.

She finally reached his side, her fine skin flushed from either frustration or embarrassment. “Captain Pinheiro, I wondered if you had a few minutes to spare.”

Could this have something to do with why she’d been so upset Thursday? Rafael cast about, seeking a place to sit that would be public yet away from the annoying military boys. “Of course, Miss Jardim. There’s that seat over there.”

He led her to a bench at one side of the field, very aware of his state of dress. He wore his usual football gear, a shirt and shorts in white, now splattered with dirt and damp with sweat. It wasn’t suitable attire for an audience with a gently-bred young woman, but since she’d sought him out, he wasn’t going to apologize for showing bare knees. He did roll down his shirtsleeves, though, and buttoned the cuffs. He waited until she sat and then settled a couple of feet from her. “Is this about Officer Medeiros?”

“No.” She shifted on the wooden bench, looking uncomfortable. “But I have come to ask for your help again.”

She didn’t like asking for help. He could tell by the stiff way she sat. “What can I do for you?”

“There’s a man who’s been following me,” she said softly.

That was
not
what he’d expected. “Who?”

“I don’t know. He’s an older man. Perhaps fifty or so? But I have no idea who he is or if we’ve ever met. I don’t think we have.”

Rafael didn’t like the sound of that. “Was he following you last Thursday when I talked to you at the station? In the courtyard?”

“Yes,” she said with an apologetic shrug. “That was the first time I remember seeing him, but I’ve spotted him several times since. He watches me like he hates me. That alone wouldn’t be a problem, but last night around midnight someone knocked on my door and when I opened it, he was standing there. I slammed it on him, and . . . he left, I think.”

Rafael’s hands had tightened into fists. “You live in a boarding house, don’t you?”

“Yes. There’s a sign that says men aren’t allowed upstairs, but he must have ignored it.”

A man who wanted to hurt her would
not
be stopped by a sign. “Did he say anything to you?”

Her hands wrapped together in her lap. “He yelled at me, but it was nonsense. I didn’t understand a word of it.”

“Did your landlady call the police? File a complaint?”

“Yes,” she said. “Unfortunately, the officer didn’t believe me. He thought I asked the man to . . . come up to my room.”

Rafael felt his jaw clench, annoyed. Some officers were idiots when it came to women’s problems. “I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Jardim. Did you tell the officer you work with the Special Police?”

“He didn’t speak with me for very long,” she said hesitantly.

In other words, the officer had brushed off the whole incident as a domestic spat. He likely hadn’t listened to a word she’d said. “Did the man try to talk to any of the other women at your boarding house?”

“I was the only one he bothered.”

“Is your name on your door?”

She shook her head.

“I wonder how he found your room, then.” Rafael pursed his lips, thinking out possibilities.

“I wondered if . . .” She licked her lips. “If I had a gun, he might be less likely to bother me, only I don’t know how to use one. I thought perhaps you could recommend someone to teach me.”

That
was not what he’d expected, either. A healer wouldn’t use a firearm in her duties, so she’d never been issued one. None of the women had.

“I would be happy to instruct you myself,” he said without hesitation. “In fact, it might be wise for all three of you to learn to use a gun. I should say you and Mrs. Anjos. Mrs. Gaspar can’t handle one.” Mrs. Gaspar had an aversion to certain metals. “I’ll talk to Inspector Anjos about it tomorrow, first off. However, I should point out to you that your best weapons are right there, in your lap.”

Her straight brows drew together as she gazed at her hands. “You mean . . . boxing?”

She hadn’t had long to become accustomed to the idea that she was a healer, so he shouldn’t be surprised at that response, should he? “I mean, Miss Jardim, that you’re a healer. If a man touches you in a way that you don’t wish, you can drain his energies enough to make him lose consciousness.”

“I can’t do that,” she whispered urgently. “It’s a sin.”

The concern that defending herself might be a
sin
was one that would never have occurred to Rafael, but he suspected Miss Jardim was more religious than he was himself. She attended Mass almost every day, possibly a reaction to being raised by Lord Carvalho—a Freemason who rarely darkened the threshold of a church. “If you’re only taking enough energy to make them fall into a faint, then it’s neither a sin nor a crime. You do have the right to defend yourself, Miss Jardim.”

She shook her head. “I might kill him. I can’t risk that.”

He understood. She was only now learning to harness her powerful gift and was frightened of herself. “Why don’t we discuss this with Mrs. Anjos? She knows far more about this than I do.”

Miss Jardim glanced about discreetly, and Rafael realized she was afraid the unknown man was hiding somewhere nearby, watching her. “In fact,” he offered, “if you don’t mind walking, I can go back to my rooms, change into something more presentable, and we could go talk to her straightaway.”



Genoveva hadn’t meant to drag Captain Pinheiro into her problem. She’d only meant to ask for a recommendation. But if Pinheiro
was
willing to help her, she wasn’t going to turn down his help. “I’d appreciate that, Captain.”

He rose and waited for her to join him. He didn’t offer her a hand up, she noted. When she stood next to him, he gestured in the direction of Agramonte Street. “It’s not far. And I must apologize, Miss Jardim. I’ve been running for a good hour now, so I’m far from my best.”

She walked along next to him. She hadn’t missed the fact that he was perspiring still. His forehead glistened, and his white shirt was damp in spots. His shorts gave her a view of muscular calves and thighs that she found surprisingly fascinating. She’d had to fix her eyes on her hands to stop them from wandering that direction while they’d been talking.

“The first question,” he said, “is whether you think you
could
shoot someone.”

Walking along the cobbles at his side, she nodded slowly. “I think I could.”

“Could you kill them?”

She chewed on her lower lip. She’d given it some thought last night, standing with her back against that door, terrified that the man would push his way into her room. She needed some way to keep him at bay, but killing him was beyond her. “I don’t think so.”