The Two of Hearts

The ShootingA hot rain battered my window-screen as thunder rolled overhead. I reclined upon the sofa in my parlor, gazing out past the screen to the narrow street beyond. Jonathan Diamond sat in an armchair beside me, trouser-legs rolled up, his damp feet now resting upon a towel set on a chair. His boots and socks hung by the fireplace to dry. “The storm’s only supposed to last another hour.” His hands shook, just a little. And I didn’t like the way his feet looked, discolored and swollen. But he claimed that under the circumstances, they were quite well. “Is there anything I might have Mary get you?” Jon grinned over his shoulder at me with a small shrug. “I’m wonderfully well-fed, warm, and dry, sitting next to the most beautiful woman in the world. What more might I need?” My cheeks grew hot. “Since when have you become a flatterer?” He reached over to take my hand, and I loved the way his dark, dark skin looked against mine. “Never.” We usually went out to luncheon, Jon and I, but I’d felt unwell — not ill, mind you, but that bleeding malady which strikes women monthly, like clockwork. And even so, he’d dared brave scandal and defy quadrant-folk custom to call on me. A baby’s wail came from far beyond the kitchen. Squeezing Jon’s hand, I scooted up to press it to my cheek, eyes burning. “I don’t deserve such regard, Jon.” He smiled warmly. “Of course you do.” My butler Blitz Spadros came in through the door to the kitchen wearing house clothes, carrying a tea-tray. “Care for some more?” Our temporary housekeeper Mrs. Crawford must still have been at luncheon. It was the first of the month, and I’d given my lady’s maid Amelia the day off, just as her husband and children back at Spadros Manor had. “I’ll have some.” I swung myself around to sit up, slipping my feet into my house shoes, which sat upon the floor. My back hurt, and my innards ached, but the doctor had said tea was good for my health. And I was a bit thirsty. “No more for me,” Jon said. “I’ve used my allotment for today.” He grinned. “Have to leave room for my tonics.” Jon had a heart condition, which seemed to have worsened of late. The doctors had told him nothing more might be done, and even last week published a treatise upon his remarkable longevity. Yet despite his duties as Keeper of the Court, Jonathan took life in great ease and merriment those days, as if his ailment was merely an inconvenience. “Is your daughter well, sir?” Blitz let out a laugh. “Being a newly-born babe must be a difficult matter, judging by the heart-rending nature of her cries. Yet the doctor claims she’s perfectly well.” Ariana Spadros was only dealt in six weeks before, and seldom slept. I turned to Jon. “Your mother was an Apprentice and your grandfather an Inventor. Are you very good at fixing things?” Blitz said, “What is it you need fixed?” I unhooked the key to my dresser from my waistband and handed it to him. “There’s what looks like a small hatbox in my top dresser drawer. Would you bring it to me?” Blitz gave me a wry grin. “As you command.” Jon and I both burst out laughing. Blitz left through the door to the front hall. Jon said, “Did you see the special edition news? A copy arrived just before I left to come here.” I shook my head. Jon shifted to face me. “You won’t believe what Mayor Freezout said in his speech before the City Council today. He proposed that the Four Families should be sent to the Prison!” “Good gods,” I said. “Has he lost his mind?” “There were several editorials asking the same thing. And that fool bill of Pike’s is back —” “Wait,” I said. “Doyle Pike’s writing bills now?” At one time, Mr. Pike had been my lawyer, until he tried blackmailing me. “No, the young one. Thrace, I believe? The one with the District Attorney’s office. He wants to make refusing to speak with the police a felony offense, rather than a fined misdemeanor.” I scoffed. “No one should be forced to speak with anyone, least of all one of those scoundrels.” Jon leaned back. “At least the Council’s got some sense.” The City Council had kept Freezout from going to outsiders for help about the train crisis. The trains seemed to be in perfect order once again, which was reassuring. But there’d been rumors that Freezout still wanted outside laborers in to help with the continual power outages. I never understood why Mayor Freezout would want outsiders involved with the city’s repair. The only thing I might imagine was that bringing those people in would shame the Families somehow. But with the Feds looking for any excuse to take the city, his actions endangered us all. Blitz returned with my magnification spyglass case in his hand, peering at it. “What’s this?” I rose, taking it from him, then sat, taking out the spyglass. “It opens up, you see? Then when you look through it, small items are magnified.” But it wobbled loosely these days, rather than opening straight. I’d paid a great deal for it, and it seemed more prudent to have it repaired rather than try to find another. The sound of a carriage came clattering through the rain, which seemed odd. Our street was really too narrow to drive fast like that. In the midst of handing my spyglass back to Blitz, he looked past me, eyes wide. “Get down!” Jonathan lunged, knocking me to the floor. The spyglass hit the table, pieces of brass flying. The rat-ta-tat-tat of the Tommy gun sent bullets through my metal window-screen and into the room as glass shattered around us. The sound of the carriage continued on past through pouring rain and the angry shouts of men. Jon lay atop me, face flushed, his dark eyes wide. “Are you hurt?” “I don’t think so.” I felt, if anything, a bit squashed. “And you?” His face was quite close to mine. “I don’t think I am.” I felt a bit flustered. “That’s twice now you’ve saved me.” Blitz came round then, pulling Jon to his feet. Jon rubbed his side. “The table seems to have won this round.” The last time he’d tangled with my table, he’d been left with a huge gash in his side. I clambered to my feet, glass crunching beneath my house shoes, and opened his jacket. Jon smiled. “I told you I wasn’t hurt.” Eyes stinging, I threw my arms round him. “Oh, gods, Jon, if anything were to happen to you —” I felt his arm warm round me. He smelled good. I relaxed into his embrace, eyes closed, feeling safe. How long had it been since anyone held me? Blitz cleared his throat. “Mrs. Spadros —” I let go of Jon, really looked at him. He’d drawn back, unsteady, shaken. “I’m sorry, Jon. You look as if you need a chair. Blitz, help Master Diamond to the kitchen.” My temporary housekeeper Mrs. Claudete Crawford rushed into the room from the hall. The ancient brown woman’s eyes widened when she saw the damage. “Dealer preserve us.” Then she looked at me and curtsied low. “My Lady, are you well?” “So far.” The rain had subsided, but we needed to take care of matters before my sofa was ruined. “Go to Mary and let her know we’re all safe. Then the broom, if you please. Oh, and Blitz, after you send word to Master Jonathan’s men, find a hammer, nails, and some blankets. We have to cover these windows until it stops raining or Mr. Howell’s men arrive.” Mr. Eight Howell was the Family man for our street. I imagined he’d not be in a good humor at a carriage of scoundrels shooting up the place. *** By the time Mr. Howell and his men arrived, the rain had slowed, and Mrs. Crawford, Blitz, and I had done a fair job of cleaning. Mr. Howell wasn’t too much taller than me, a pale man with a big bushy beard. “We stopped the bastards before they might clear the street.” He scowled so fiercely that for an instant, I almost felt sorry for them. “We gotta take care of this before the police show up.” He gestured to his men. “Start with the walls.” At once, the men searched the walls in the hall and front rooms for bullets. Fortunately, they got the last one out just as the police arrived. When I opened the door, the rain had turned to gentle mist. “Thank you so much for visiting. How may I help?” The young Constable scanned the outer wall, the window-screens. “What’s gone on here?” “I really couldn’t say, sir. Some children with rocks, I imagine.” He began to laugh. Then he quickly recovered, pointing at the bullet holes piercing my thick door. “You want me to believe rocks did this?” Blitz came up behind me. “Sir, this is the Lady of Spadros —” The young man blanched, and he doffed his hat, bowing. “My apologies, mum —” His partner, a man barely out of boyhood, stood frozen in terror on the sidewalk beyond. “— so if she says it’s rocks, it’s rocks.” He handed the man a dollar bill. “Most likely done by boys with slingshots. Got it?” He gaped at the dollar. Then he glanced at the Family men around him. “Thank you, sir. You’re too generous, sir.” He bowed to me again. “Mum.” The pair made a hasty retreat. I turned to Blitz. “Did you have to give them a whole week’s pay?” It was what I got from Tony to live on for a whole month. Blitz shrugged. “I don’t like scrabbling around for pennies.” Chuckling, I returned inside, Blitz following. Men were in my bedroom and the parlor, clearing the last of the glass from the frames to put new panes in. Ever since I’d returned from the meeting with Cesare Diamond two months back, the Family men for my street had been particularly generous. I believe my cooperation in the matter improved the way Roy Spadros, our quadrant’s Patriarch, now viewed me. Of course, I’d not seen the man since then — he’d been somewhat occupied, if the papers spoke true. For the past two months, massive negotiations had been underway between the Spadros and Diamond Families. As a result, the South River between Spadros and Diamond was being dredged — which it sorely needed — to locate any remains that might still be there. People on both sides who’d lost friends and family in the first Diamond-Spadros War lined up for miles at various locations to be interviewed. The process looked likely to take years to fully sort through. It was good for jobs, though, which pleased many, especially in the slums. Jonathan sat at the kitchen table, still barefoot, sifting through the lenses and bits of brass now lying upon an old sheet of newspaper. “I think all the pieces are here.” He looked up at me. “But this is delicate work. A watchmaker might be able to repair it, but I doubt I can.” I went round to sit beside Jon, facing the door to the parlor. “I should have asked Mr. Howell who the men were.” Jon raised his eyebrows. “That shot at us?” He let out a laugh. “I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually.” His head turned towards Blitz, making a quick movement to the left. Blitz said, “I’ll see if your boots are dry yet.” As the kitchen door opened, daylight blazed into the room as a few men hoisted a window glass into place. I gazed fondly at the pieces of my spyglass. It looked as though some of the pins holding the pieces in place had broken. “You remember when we went to buy this?” Jon said, “There’s something I wish to speak with you about.” “Oh?” Jon slid the pieces of brass towards the center of the table and rested his arms upon it. “You’re not safe here.” He ran a hand over his face, the back of his neck. “This only proves it.” I shrugged. “We don’t know this was about me. It could have just as well been aimed at you.” Jon stared at the table. “I’ve thought about this, Jacqui. The only way you’ll be able to live in safety is to return to Spadros Manor.” Spadros Manor. It seemed my entire life’s effort had been to leave that place. And now to return?