The Seat of Magic (19 page)

Marina sighed dramatically and tugged her arm loose. “You see?” she whispered. “Now you've gotten me in trouble.”

Oriana resisted the urge to pinch her. “Tell Father what you told me.”

With a resigned glance at her father, Marina described her
encounter with the man who dragged her off the street. The scowl on their father's face grew. Duilio's eyes met Oriana's; he'd clearly understood what Marina had missed, that the robber had been trying to determine if she was a sereia. When Marina mentioned Mr. Tavares coming to her rescue, though, Duilio gazed at her, eyes wide. “Mr.
Joaquim
Tavares?”

“I didn't ask his given name,” Marina said. “I didn't think it would be proper.”

Their father crossed his arms over his chest. “And did you think it was proper not to tell your own father you'd been assaulted? Marina, for God's sake, you could have been killed!”

Marina's eyes began to glisten, and she sniffled.

Lady Pereira de Santos rose and set her hand on his arm. “Adriano,” she said very softly, “she was trying to spare you concern. She didn't know of any potential threat. I probably would have done the same.”

Oriana was surprised the woman had stepped in to defend Marina. “She's right, Father. Marina didn't know.”

Her father's eyes slid toward Duilio, as if seeking support from the only other male in the room. “Do you know this man?”

“If you're referring to Mr. Tavares,” Duilio said, “I can't be certain. But I know a Joaquim Tavares, and it does sound like something he would do.”

“He needs to hear this story,” Oriana said. “The parts he hasn't heard.”

Marina turned on her. “What do you mean?”

“The police need to know that you're a sereia,” Duilio answered. “That puts a different complexion on the assault.”

Marina's brows drew together. “What does that have to do with Mr. Tavares?”

“I am not going to let her walk into a police station and tell them that,” her father snapped.

Duilio raised a hand. “The officer I would take her to see is a
Sympathizer, sir. He's handling the two other murders. I promise he'll keep her name out of any records.”

“Can you guarantee his actions?”

Duilio nodded. “I trust him with my life. With my mother's life.”

Oriana held her breath.

“He is my . . . cousin, sir,” Duilio added. “One of the few who know my mother isn't human. He knows about Oriana as well.”

No, that middle statement hadn't slid past her father, nor Lady Pereira de Santos, whose delicate eyebrows rose. Marina's brow remained furrowed.

“Your mother isn't human?” her father asked Duilio.

“No,” Duilio said, and turned to Lady Pereira de Santos. “And now you know
my
family secret, as is fair.”

The lady inclined her head in his direction.

“You're a selkie?” her father asked, disbelief plain on his features.

“Half,” Duilio said calmly.

“I've seen Lady Ferreira. She certainly has nothing of their manner about her.”

“She was raised on land,” Duilio said, “and only went to the sea later. She was educated as a human would have been.”

Her father's brows lifted as if he'd figured out something clever, and he glanced in her direction. “It's not what you think,” Oriana snapped before he could say anything. “Mr. Ferreira hasn't ever tried to charm me.”

Her father touched one finger to his cheek under his eye—the sign of disbelief.

Oriana raised her own hands to gesture, but caught Duilio looking at her pointedly.

Hands behind your back,
he mouthed at her.

Oriana took a deep breath and put her hands behind her back. She could use them to strangle Duilio later.

Duilio shifted to face her father directly. “I told you that, sir, so you would know that my cousin can be trusted. He would never allow any harm to come to Miss Arenias. And it would be helpful for him to talk to her directly, as she might be the only person who can give him adequate descriptions.”

Marina, who'd remained silent throughout that exchange, tugged at Oriana's sleeve. “He means the police, right? Or did he mean Mr. Tavares?”

Oriana took her hand. “I believe they are the same.”

D
uilio kept his mouth shut while Oriana whispered comforting things to her younger sister. He sat on the cab's bench across from them, facing backward, which gave him a clear view of the area they were leaving. It wouldn't be a long journey, and fortunately, this cab didn't smell of vomit.

It was entirely possible that Joaquim had heard a young lady in distress and run to her aid. It would be like him. It was not, however, like him to make a casual statement about seeing that young lady again. Joaquim didn't believe in leading women on.

On the other hand, Duilio suspected Joaquim would find delicate Miss Arenias appealing. He didn't know exactly what made him think that, but his certainty grew as he watched her talking with Oriana.

The girl glanced up and caught him watching her. “Are you truly part selkie? I've never met one before, but you look quite human.”

“As do you, Miss Arenias,” he replied.

She blushed. Even in the partial light of the cab he could see that—a reaction he hadn't thought possible for a sereia. Their skin was generally too thick to allow it, something to do with the cold temperatures of seawater and circulation of blood. Oriana certainly never blushed. “In human form,” he told her, “a selkie is completely human in appearance. If you saw my half brother Erdano, you wouldn't know he was a selkie either.”

“Until you smelled him,” Oriana added. “He
reeks
of musk.”

Duilio stifled a laugh at Oriana's disgusted tone.

“I suspect some women find it attractive,” she added, “but I find it overbearing.”

“Ah,” Duilio said. “Is that why you never succumbed to his subtle attempts to court you, Miss Paredes?”

Oriana opened her mouth, but her sister spoke first. “If you're meant to be her mate,” Marina said, “no one would be able to turn her away from you, not even a selkie.”

Duilio suspected that if Oriana
could
blush, she would be doing so at that moment. She looked tense now, and uncomfortable. He plastered a smile on his face. “Miss Arenias, I believe you're correct.”

Marina was about to add something else when the cab started slowing. Duilio glanced out the window and saw they were near the police station. He opened the door when the cab stopped and, once down, helped the two sisters to the cobbles. Oriana had one arm tucked through Marina's when he turned back from paying the driver, so he held the door open for them to enter the station. Oriana continued to keep her eyes averted from his.

He led them down the hallway toward Joaquim's office and asked them to wait in the hallway outside. That got Oriana to look at him, but she only nodded in a jerky fashion and then her eyes slid away.

Duilio knocked on the door and was relieved when he heard Joaquim call for him to enter; he hadn't dragged the two women to the station in vain. After a quick nod in their direction, he opened the door and slipped into the office.

Joaquim glanced up at him when the door closed, and relief covered his strained features. “I'm glad you're here.”

“I'm not alone,” Duilio warned. “I've brought Miss Paredes and her sister to talk to you.”

Joaquim dragged a hand over his face. “This isn't a good time for social calls.”

“This isn't a social call, Joaquim. Oriana's sister might have been a target, only someone came to her rescue before she was dragged off. She was lucky.”

“You don't know how lucky. There was another body found this morning—a sereia girl this time.”

Duilio felt ill. He'd warned Monteiro too late. “Damn.”

Joaquim kicked at the leg of the desk. “There's no hiding this one, Duilio. Gonzalo hasn't said anything, but . . .”

No hiding it?
“Was she not skinned?”

“No,” Joaquim said. “She was dumped in the same fashion, though. It has to be related.”

“What did they do?” Duilio asked.

“Tore out most of her throat.” Joaquim grimaced. “That's where a sereia's magic is, isn't it? In their throat?”

If that were true, it clearly established a pattern, despite all the other differences. He should go see Dr. Esteves again. “I don't know, but I'll ask.”

Joaquim stood and gestured toward the door. “If the younger Miss Paredes was attacked, she might be our only lead.”

Duilio held up a hand to stop him. “She doesn't use Paredes. She uses Arenias.”

“Arenias? Is she . . .” Joaquim's eyes focused inward.

And that answered Duilio's question as to whether he'd been the same Mr. Tavares who came to her rescue. Duilio could almost see the wheels of Joaquim's mind turning, recalculating something in light of his new knowledge of the girl's identity.

“The girl who was being robbed?” Joaquim asked. “
That
Miss Arenias?”

“Yes, but she wasn't being robbed. He didn't take her handbag. He was trying to take off her gloves instead, to see if she'd ever had webbing, I suspect.”

And then that sunk in, as well. “The dead girl has scars between each finger,” Joaquim said. “She had her webbing cut away.”

“Oriana's father as well—Monteiro. He looks so human one would never guess.”

Joaquim squared his shoulders and straightened his necktie, his lips set in a thin line. “Why don't you ask them to come in?”

Duilio complied, drawing Oriana and her sister into the small office. On seeing Joaquim there, Marina looked eager for an instant . . . but that expression fled into resignation as she seemingly realized her rescuer and the policeman were one and the same, and now he knew her secret. She sank gracefully onto a wooden chair next to the door, with Oriana stepping around to sit next to her.

Duilio started introductions—a formality, but it eased the tension in the room. “Joaquim, I'd like you to meet Miss Marina Arenias, who works for Monteiro and Company.” He turned to the younger sister. “And this is my cousin, Joaquim Tavares, who is an inspector.”

Joaquim inclined his head. “Of course we've met, Miss Arenias.”

Marina nodded, her eyes fixed on the desk. Then she lifted her chin. “I should apologize for not telling you, Mr. Tavares, but I am not human.”

Duilio was impressed she'd gathered her courage to do so.

“I understand your choosing not to reveal that, Miss Arenias,” Joaquim said in his most polite voice. “There's danger in confiding that information without due consideration.”

“That information, however, casts a different light on the attack.” Duilio suspected they would be there for a while, so he leaned against the wall.

“It would probably be best, Miss Arenias,” Joaquim said, “if we started over from the beginning. I'd like you to tell me everything about that afternoon you can remember. Do you know why he might have suspected you were a sereia in the first place?”

“No,” Marina said, shaking her head.

“Very well,” Joaquim said. “Why were you walking down that street?”

“I'd been to see the doctor,” she began.

Duilio glanced at Oriana.
What is she thinking?
She had eyes only for her sister at the moment, or was studiously avoiding his gaze. He would have to pick her brain when he got her alone.

After Joaquim had exhausted most logical lines of questioning, Duilio frowned down at his shoes. They hadn't accomplished much. Marina described the man who grabbed her as dark haired, brown eyed, and with a stocky build, shorter than Duilio, perhaps thirty, nothing distinctive about his garments. While that could describe many men in the city, it did match the description the beggar had given of the coachman who'd grabbed Gita. The assailant hadn't spoken to Marina at all. And Joaquim, normally the most observant of men, hadn't been paying attention to the robber. He'd apparently been too concerned about Miss Arenias to pursue her assailant.

“Which doctor did you go to see, Miss Arenias?” Duilio asked when Joaquim stalled in his questioning.

Marina seemed surprised at a query from
him
. “Dr. Esteves.”

He'd suspected that. After all, her father had recommended the man for Oriana. He had gone to see the man earlier the very same day. “Does he see many of your people?”

“Well, he is very discreet,” Marina said, “and knows how to treat . . . certain things.”

Joaquim pinched his nose. “What exactly did you go to see him about, Miss Arenias?”

She rubbed her gloved hands together. “My hands were hurting. I asked him if he could recommend anything for that.”

Joaquim's brows drew together in concern. “Your hands hurt?”

“Where the webbing was,” she said dismissively. “I'm told it's like someone who's lost a leg, and sometimes their foot hurts.”

“The webbing is very sensitive,” Oriana inserted, “so if it's removed, there's always ghost pain. For the rest of one's life.”

Joaquim glanced at Oriana's mitt-covered hands, folded primly together in her lap. “Why do it, then?”

Marina's jaw hardened. “Because I live here and I don't want to die.”

Joaquim flushed, hard to do with his darker skin. “I apologize, Miss Arenias. I didn't mean to question your decision.”

Marina's fingers grasped her handbag. “I should go back to the office. Is that all, sir?”

Joaquim seemed to consider for a moment. When he didn't answer immediately, she glanced up, and Duilio could see that her dark eyes were glistening again.

“There is something you could do for me, Miss Arenias,” Joaquim said, “although it would be unpleasant. A girl was murdered, a sereia girl. Her hands don't have webbing, but her coloration gave that away. We don't have any way to identify her, though, to get her back to her family. If you could look at her . . .”

“We could send for Dr. Esteves,” Duilio inserted. “There's a good chance she was one of his patients.”

Oriana glanced up. “I'll look, although I'm not certain I would know her.”

“I'll do it,” Marina said firmly. “There's a better chance I would recognize her.”

“Thank you. We can take a cab there.” Joaquim rose from his desk and extended a hand. After one doubtful look, Marina set her gloved fingers in his and let him help her to her feet. He laid her hand on his arm and led her toward the doorway.

Duilio extended a hand toward Oriana, who accepted it distractedly. They followed Joaquim and Marina at a slower pace. “Whoever the dead girl is,” she whispered, “she's dead because Mr. Tavares saved Marina.”

“We can't be certain of that,” Duilio reminded her as they stepped outside the police station.

She cast him a bleak look and turned her eyes back on her sister as Marina walked at Joaquim's side down toward the intersection
where hired cabs usually picked up their fares. “What do you think they're discussing?”

“Us, of course,” Duilio said. “It's only logical since we're talking about them.” When she gave him a caustic glance, he said, “He's apologizing for what he said about her hands, and trying to distract her so she doesn't get too upset over the idea of viewing a corpse.”

“Oh.” They had reached the corner where a cab waited, the driver already talking to Joaquim. He opened the cab's side door and helped Miss Arenias into the seat, and then waited for them to catch up.

Oriana shivered in the chilly air. The fog had burned off, but it was still overcast. “I should have brought a shawl.”

“Would you like my coat?”

She shook her head. “We'll be warm enough in the cab.”

He handed Oriana up to sit with her sister and settled next to Joaquim, facing backward. “It's not far.”

Oriana wrapped her sister's hand in her own as the cab lurched into motion. “It'll be fine, Marina.”

Marina held on to the hand strap with her other hand, looking lost and afraid. But she lifted her chin after a moment and resolutely stared out the cab's windows. Fortunately, it wasn't too long before the cab set them down on Arnaldo Gama Street. Joaquim directed them toward the door of the morgue. Marina seemed pale, but her expression was determined.

“We'll need to go to the back of the building,” Joaquim explained—mostly for Marina's benefit, Duilio guessed. “It might be better if you hold this over your nose.”

He held out his handkerchief, which Marina took, dutifully holding it to her face. The building was, once again, mostly empty. They reached the back room and Officer Gonzalo rose from his desk with a startled expression on his face. His eyes moved from Oriana to Marina, and then settled on Joaquim as if demanding an explanation.

“These two ladies might be able to identify the dead girl,” Joaquim said.

Gonzalo's mouth fell open, but he quickly shook himself back to attention. He drew a set of keys out of his desk, then led them through the empty inner morgue to what appeared to be a closet. “I've put this body in the back room. The fewer people who see her, the better.”

Duilio agreed. As soon as word got out that the police were holding the body of a sereia, Joaquim's superiors would demand he close down his investigation to avoid violating the terms of the ban. Fortunately, Gonzalo had acted quickly.

The officer held the door open, and Joaquim escorted Marina inside. Duilio followed, one hand on the back of Oriana's waist. The lone table in the room bore a sheet-covered form that smelled of stale blood and death—a scent magnified by the smaller size of the room. Marina pressed the handkerchief tighter her nose, tears starting in her eyes. Joaquim gestured for her to stay by the door.

Duilio followed him to the table and watched as Joaquim lifted the sheet back from the girl's face. She'd been young, near Marina's age, with straight brown hair and a pretty face. Her eyes were closed. The line of her chin had kept the blood from reaching the sheet, but Duilio caught a brief glimpse of the girl's ruined throat. His stomach soured.