The Seer's Choice: A Novella of the Golden City (7 page)

She finally took the roll from him and tucked it in her pocket rather than eating as she walked along the street. Eating while walking probably wasn’t done in polite society. “I am very fond of coffee,” she said mildly.

They’d reached the station, so he opened up the courtyard gate and let her precede him inside. They made their way up the stairs toward the main office. “If you do see that man at any time today,” Rafael told her, “please come to find me immediately. Failing that, find one of the inspectors. They know about the threat, and will see that you’re safe.”

She nodded quickly and left him at the door to his office, on her way to find Mrs. Anjos.

Rafael watched her go, frowning. His gift wasn’t any happier now than before.

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When the doctors sent for them, Genoveva was startled. They rarely asked the healers for their help. The doctors and surgeons preferred Science. If it wasn’t written in a book, they didn’t trust it.

But she and Mrs. Anjos followed the worried doctor down a white-plastered hallway to a tiny room at the end of one hall. And she knew immediately why. A woman lay on the bed—not a soldier. The hospital must have taken her in because she was clearly in a dire condition. The sheets laid over her were stained bright red with her blood. A pile of linens—no, towels—already lay in a basin in the corner, showing that the doctors had been trying to staunch the bleeding. The room stank of fear.

A woman sat in a chair at the patient’s side, her eyes reddened with crying. Her plain black skirt and white shirtwaist made Genoveva think of a factory worker, and the faded knitted shawl around her shoulders spoke of poverty. She glanced up when they entered the room, hope flaring in her dark eyes. She rose and came to them. “Please, you must help my sister.”

Mrs. Anjos cast a questioning glance at the doctor.

“She came in a couple of hours ago,” he said. “We have not been able to stop the bleeding, and I recalled that healers could.”

Mrs. Anjos cast her eyes over the piles of stained fabric, then went to the woman’s bed and gently drew back the bloodied sheet that covered her. It had only hidden more blood, staining the woman’s underskirt and the linens on the bed. “That is too much blood,” she said softly. “You should have sent for us sooner.”

At that pronouncement, the sister covered her face with her shawl and sobbed.

The doctor shook his head. “We tried everything we could.”

Mrs. Anjos turned to the sister and tugged the shawl away from the woman’s face. “What happened to her?”

The woman’s eyes slid toward the doctor guiltily. “She was with child,” she whispered.

Mrs. Anjos turned to the doctor, her young face implacable. “Will you leave us for a few minutes, Doctor?”

The doctor’s eyes flicked between the two women and he nodded and left, tacitly admitting that this was women’s business. Genoveva shut the door behind him.

Mrs. Anjos turned back to the sister. “What did she take?”

The woman wrung her hands together. “Poejo,” she whispered, and then more loudly insisted, “Her husband has abandoned her and she had two children already. She cannot afford to lose her place at the factory.”

Genoveva knew the name of that herb, one sold by apothecaries to promote bleeding. But it was difficult to know how a woman would be affected by it, and thus it was dangerous. It had clearly been so for the young woman lying on the bed.

“When did she start bleeding?” Mrs. Anjos pressed.

“At work this morning,” the sister said. “She said she felt faint, and then dropped to the floor. This hospital was close, so I begged them to see her.”

It was surprising that the hospital hadn’t sent them away, but the blood must have convinced the doctors of the severity of the situation.

Mrs. Anjos turned toward the insensible young woman and laid one hand gently on her belly. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

“What is her name,” Genoveva asked the sister.

“Elpidia,” the woman said.

Mrs. Anjos turned back to her, lifting her hand as she did so. “There is little hope,” she said softly. “We can stop her bleeding, but we cannot replace the blood she has lost. And her heart and lungs will fail, I believe.”

The sister paled and covered her face again. Mrs. Anjos turned to Genoveva. “Miss Jardim, I need you to help me.”

Genoveva touched the sister’s hand, where she had her rosary wrapped around her palm. “She needs your prayers now.”

The woman returned to her chair and began to recite her prayers, working along the rosary as she did so. Genoveva went to Mrs. Anjos’ side. “What should I do?”

“I want you to feel her centers of power, to see if you sense what I do.”

So Genoveva did so, her hand lightly on the woman’s abdomen. There was so little blood left in the body. The heart barely beat, having little to move. The woman’s life force ebbed. “The bleeding is stopped.”

“Yes, I managed to stop it,” Mrs. Anjos confirmed. “But . . .” She shook her head.

That night six months ago, Inspector Anjos had nearly bled to death, but his now-wife saved him by using the life force that Genoveva’s father had stolen from several guards and Special Police officers. “Could we not give her our strength?” Genoveva asked in a whisper.

“It would take more than either of us could spare,” the Russian woman answered, clearly knowing where her thoughts had gone. “It would take
lives
, and I will not do that.”

“Could the doctors not. . . ?” Genoveva stopped herself. There was no point. Blood transfusions were rare and risky, and they would need a donor of the correct blood group, if she recalled her studies correctly. The doctors surely had considered that, and dismissed the possibility. There was no time.

Genoveva kept her hand over the patient’s abdomen, feeling the woman’s life slipping away.

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Rafael embraced his aunt and kissed both her cheeks. “Aunt Giana, I’m afraid I’ve come with ill news,” he began. “My gift says that Joaquim is in peril in Barcelona, but I cannot go there right now. I have . . . another problem that needs attention. I wondered if you had any contacts there able to go to his aid.”

Lady Ferreira’s head tilted gracefully, and she gazed at him with narrowed eyes. She was a lovely woman who appeared younger than her fifty years, a benefit of her selkie blood. “What manner of trouble?”

“I don’t know, Aunt. I only know that it’s dire enough that he needs help. Duilio is heading there, but Joaquim will need help before he arrives. And I cannot go myself. Not with things as they are.”

Lady Ferreira gestured for him to sit on the pale leather sofa before the hearth and she settled in an ivory brocaded chair. “I do have some business associates there, but they’re mostly involved in the ship-building industry.” She tapped one finger against her cheek. “No. I will go myself.”

“To Barcelona?” Rafael asked. His aunt was headstrong, but he hadn’t thought she would go herself.

“Of course. A train to Galicia, then Madrid, then to Barcelona. I could be there by tomorrow night. I need to place a telephone call, but I can get Felis packing immediately.”

He forgot how quickly she acted when she took a mind to do something. “I would go with you, but . . .”

She’d half risen as if to go begin packing, but sat again. “Yes, you said you had another problem, Rafael. Is there any way I could help?”

His aunt was unfailingly generous. “Well . . . I believe Miss Jardim is in danger, and I don’t want to leave the city until I’m certain it’s passed. A man pursued her to her boarding house last Saturday night. I wondered if she might . . . hide here should it be necessary.”

A mischievous smile touched Lady Ferreira’s lips. “Ah, it’s like
that
.”

He tried for an innocent expression. “What do you mean?”

“Rafael,” she said with an amused shake of her head. “I raised three seers in this house. I know what it means when one takes such an interest in a young woman.”

There was no point in denying it to her. She was a clever woman, and would see right through him. Also, his aunt was a close friend of Genoveva Jardim’s mother, Lady Carvalho. “So, do you think her mother would object to me? I am, after all, merely a police officer.”

Lady Ferreira smiled. “She will adore you.”

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