Chapter Two

The best thing about being an author, was that you could make up stories about anything and anyone. I was doing that right now, seeing if I could tell what lives the people around me lived. The place was filled with men, both young and old, some drinking, others smoking, a few at a gaming table, recklessly gambling their hard-earned money away. Oh, if Mother could see me now in a Diogenes Club of all places, I would definitely be in for a stern talking to. I glanced at a young man with black hair and a blond man dancing in a small corner of the room, and regarding each other in a way that closely resembled affection. That was something that would undoubtedly be frowned upon, but I admired the way they seemed to erase everyone else in the world to focus on each other, and for a brief moment, I wondered what that was like, being in the arms of someone who cared about you and loved you.

"May I start you off with something to drink?" a waitress asked sweetly, pulling me out of my fantasy world. She was wearing a tuxedo, the uniform of the club. She had her sleek brown hair pinned up in a very tight bun, and it was parted severely to one side. Her face was covered in makeup, red lipstick and a small amount of blush. "We have champagne, beer, wine, anything to cleanse your palette." She seemed a lot nicer than the woman at the Savoy, but I could sense her curiosity as to why a woman was in a men's club. "Though I suggest you go easy, you don't want to go on that on a full stomach." She pointed above her at a swing over a table.

She must have assumed that I was one of the performers. I could imagine myself on that swing right now and it made me feel a little bit lightheaded. Those girls must have trained in the circus because their tolerance for being suspended upside down. I was certain that if I were there now, I would spill the contents of my stomach all over this table and that was not a pretty image and I'm sorry if I put it in your mind as you were reading this. Pretend that never happened.

I shook my head insistently, "Oh, no, I'm not a performer," I began, starting to feel my face getting hot. "I'm here with Madam Simza."

"Ah, I see. You're another one of those fortune tellers aren't you?"

"I..." I wondered if she would ask me to read her fortune, and that would make a complete idiot out of me. I started forming the words in my head. "The truth is, I was supposed to have dinner with my aunt tonight, but it turns out she forgot to confirm the reservation so since this was the only place that was open..." Even in my head, it sounded pathetic, but I hated to lie. It just wasn't in my nature. "Simza is the one who got me in."

Well done, Charlotte, you really messed up this time.

I expected her to kick me out, to toss me onto the streets without another word.

"Say no more," she said gently with a wink. "I won't tell the boss. Shall I start you off with some champagne, then?"

"That would be lovely, thank you," I said with a relieved smile and she walked away to serve another table.

There were a few women here, which wasn't odd for me, I could tell that some of them may have been hired as entertainment, they were dressed in elaborate costumes and waving feathers around them. Their hats were also covered in feathers, I wondered how heavy they were.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by the sound of a man's laughter.

At first I thought it was Father, but it was someone else. He was playing cards with a group of well-dressed men who I assumed were friends of his or maybe colleagues from work, whoever they were, they all seemed to be having a good time. It took me a moment before I recognized the laughing man as Doctor John Watson, he often came to my house to treat my grandfather and make sure his medications were up to date. As a soldier himself, he could easily relate to the trauma that my grandfather was facing and it gave him someone to talk to who understood him. The terrible things he had witnessed on the battlefield, the compatriots and friends he had lost. He soon spotted me and waved briefly in my direction.

I returned the friendly gesture and then turned back to my table. Watson had invited us to the wedding tomorrow, which I was excited about attending, the only wedding I had ever been to in my life was my Aunt Daisy's, and that was five years ago.

The slow song was making me feel sleepy and I had to blink a few times so that I could stay focused. Maybe I should make an appointment with Simza after all, or else I would fall asleep right then and there and wouldn't that be a sight to see? I stood up and then went to where I figured she would be.

As I arrived on the landing, I looked over the balcony for a moment. Doctor Watson was balancing a card on his face and his friends were rather amused. I giggled to myself and then wandered the second floor until I finally saw the little area and Simza sorting through her cards. I cleared my throat to let her know I was there and she turned around smiling.

"There you are, I was starting to think you forgot about me," she teased, gesturing to the chair across from her. I took a little time to look around the tiny yet functional space which she must have been setting up before. There was a deck of tarot cards piled up in the corner of the table and the whole thing was covered in a silk tablecloth. There was the front half of a silver sea shell where people put their money. Her clothes had also changed as well, a long black dress, a bit like mine, only the sleeves went down past her shoulders. I also noticed that she had touched up her makeup a little bit.

"How could I forget you when we only just met?" I replied with a grin, unable to determine the strong smell that had filled the room, perhaps it was incense. Whatever it was, it gave the room a nice touch. "Honestly, though, the music was lulling me to sleep, I had to get away for a while."

"That's understandable, I don't particularly enjoy slow songs myself. They're hard to dance to." she laughed lightly, like she was recalling a fond memory, then sighed bringing herself back. "Wait here, I'll be back in a moment."

My eyes followed her quizzically as she pushed herself out of her chair and then walked over behind the curtain from whence I came, only to reappear again. Then she said in a mystical voice, "Welcome, I am Madam Simza."

I understood that she must have done this with all of her clients. I watched her with anticipation. I'd secretly always wanted to do this, have my fortune told, but my mother always thought the whole idea was just another way to rob people of their money, like people who came to the door and tried to sell you something that was broken or you didn't need. She always had a rather cynical view of the world, and she warned me never to fall for such folly, but that didn't stop me from finding it all fascinating.

She slid over to the chair across from mine. "Choose the cards or your palm, both can show you your past, present and future." As tempting as it was to go with the cards, I wanted to see how a palm reading was done. "Alright, then, give me your hand."

I did as she instructed and I placed my hand in hers and she observed it, tracing her finger along the lines of my palm, the skin where she touched my hand felt funny and I could feel goosebumps creeping up on my arms. My eyes shifted to hers, but she was completely focused. I had no clue how you could tell about a person just by looking at their hands, but she seemed to know what she was doing.

"You are in for the adventure of a lifetime," she said softly, her voice intriguing, "A thrilling journey of excitement and danger."

"Adventure?" I repeated. This part surprised me. The only adventures I had were the ones I would read about in my books. I always tried to be a sensible person, doing my best to stay out of trouble, and adventure didn't seem to fit that criteria. I know, It sounds like a boring and pathetic life to some people, never leaving the house or living a life of your own, but on the bright side, whenever you read a book, you never have to worry about putting yourself in harm's way, which was obviously far too frequent these days.

I didn't feel the sense of security that I once did when I was a young girl. I never allowed myself to go anywhere unless someone was to accompany me. That was part of the reason why I was upset that Aunt Lucy didn't come like she promised she would, I didn't like feeling vulnerable or at risk. How many people would pay for the daughter of a plain old upper-middle class family?

"And what's this?" She looked harder at one of the lines. "You will soon come face to face with the love of your life. Yes, he's dark-haired, eyes, like melted chocolate. And a smile, bright and as warm as the sunshine."

Love of my life?

Dark hair, eyes like chocolate?

Interesting. The only man I knew who fit that description was the man who worked at the bakery, his name was Daniel, but he was eight years older than me, though technically he would be almost nine years older at the end of the year and not to be picky, but I wanted to marry someone a little bit closer to my age, the maximum age limit for me was five years. Besides, I don't think my parents would allow me to marry him, anyhow. "Of course, I can't tell you when you'll meet them, or whom it will be, you'll find that out for yourself." Simza continued, then she sat back with a proud little smile, like she just conquered the world, and she probably could.

"How do you do that?" I asked, like when I was five years old and saw a magician performing in the streets. Simza shrugged like it was nothing at all.

"Years of practice," she said. "My grandmother taught me all I know."

"Well, she did a fine job." then I said, "Have you ever gotten a prediction wrong?" Some part of me wished that Mother was here with me so that she could get hers done, too and I could prove to her that it wasn't a scam.

"To tell you the truth, I have gotten two wrong, but that was when I first started out. My grandmother would say that I have improved since then."

"How do you know when you get them right?"

"People have written to me, or see me on the street, and they tell me how accurate my predictions were."

We spoke for a little while after that and she actually showed me how the whole tarot card thing worked. It really was impressive. I knew that every card had a different meaning, like love and death and wealth, but when I was shown the intricacies of the cards, it was like Christmas.

"Well, I can hear someone else coming. I'll leave you to it," I said, standing up and stretching.

"Feel free to come back whenever you feel like it," she called over her shoulder at me.

With that I pulled back the curtain and gave her a smile as I left.

When I came back downstairs, I noticed that the music had changed to a faster, cheerful, more upbeat tune. Performers danced around and swung from lamps or scarves tied to the ceiling while taking in the applause of the guests. I drummed my fingers on the wood to the beat and watched as one of the girls did a backwards handstand on a long table and I laughed to myself, picturing food being knocked over splattering on the floor. Fortunately, the food has been removed from the equation.

I clapped politely just as the waitress came back with my drink. It looked good, and I liked watching the bubbles fizzing on the top. I took the glass in my hand and turned it over a few times, inspecting the clear liquid. I raised it to my lips and stopped halfway.

Someone was staring at me. I could feel it.

I wasn't paranoid, not in the slightest, but I could just get the sense when someone was staring at me. My eyes darted left and right, trying to find whose attention I had managed to capture. But everyone seemed to be minding their own business.

I turned around, looking up at the second floor balcony where another man was standing and surveying the scene below him. At first I thought that his gaze was directed at someone else, because as Watson laughed again, his eyes flickered over to him, but then they reverted back to me. He was looking at me strangely, as if he was trying to read my thoughts.

I looked away and took a sip of my drink and then cut a glance to him, and his eyes were still on me.

It occurred to me why they call it eye contact.

Finally, I decided that the proper strategy was to stare back, and soon it was a staring contest.

Now, let me tell you. It would have been awkward and unsettling if the man who was looking at me appeared to be sketchy. I was accustomed to those sort of scoundrels, but this person seemed friendly enough and might I add, handsome. After a while, Watson laughed a third time and he looked away. When he looked back at me, I flicked my eyebrows up to say, I win, and the corner of his mouth turned up into an alluring smile. I stared after him for a moment and he slipped into a corner of the room.

I shook my head, trying to slap myself out of whatever trance I was in and sighed, coming back to reality. I continued to eat, stopping every once in a while to take a sip of my drink, but my eyes were still focused on that one particular spot, as if he was still there. But he was nowhere to be seen. I sighed. Maybe I had only just imagined him, maybe the champagne was getting to me and it was giving me a hallucination, but how could I dream up someone I'd never met yet.

Finally, I saw him, his back was toward me until he turned to his right slightly. Clearly, he was looking for someone.

Father always told me that curiosity was one of my fatal flaws and he was right, it often led me into sticky situations, none of them life threatening, but still, if I told you every one of those said situations, we'd be here forever.

But although this inner voice was telling me to stay exactly where I was, I didn't listen to it. I stood up, keeping my eyes locked onto him as he emerged and I stepped away from my table. After a short time, I could feel the heat in my cheeks and then, later, the small amount of alcohol in my veins as I climbed the stairs.

The moment I was a few feet away from him, the mysterious man flicked his eyebrows up again and his smile broadened into a grin and he slipped behind the curtain, making me laugh quietly.

Challenge accepted.

I stepped after him and nearly collided into Simza. She was outside and she saw how nervous I looked. "You know, Charlotte, you're welcome to stay here," she said softly. "Not that I don't find you capable of defending yourself, but I really don't like the idea of staying down there alone with a bunch of drunken men, especially at this time of night. Trust me, the last thing you want to be involved in is a brawl." She gestured to the room and we walked in.

She moved another chair out of the corner and moved it next to hers, then she took her place on the other side of the room. I heard the curtain move and my eyes flashed toward the mysterious man who strode over near the table.

Dark hair, eyes like melted chocolate, just as Simza described. But no, it couldn't be him, could it? Not a complete stranger.

I felt the urge to look away, but at the same time I couldn't force my gaze elsewhere. It was a feeling I couldn't describe. I suppose the only way I could have described it would be attraction, one side pulling another side, only to join them together.

"What was that about?" I asked him. "Why did you lead me here?"

He shook his head and put on an innocent expression. "Just a harmless game of cat and mouse. Cloak and dagger." His voice was so smooth and deep. It was a sound I was sure I could listen to for hours. It was intriguing and quite honestly made me nervous.

"I thought it was spider and fly," I said.

"I'm not a fly, I'm a cat," he replied with a proud grin.

"Not a mouse, but a dagger. I'm dangerous," I attempted a mysterious smile and sat up straighter to appear more confident.

"Oh, yes, I can see that," he nodded, about to say something else when a voice interrupted him.

"Please sit. Put your money on the table, and we will begin." He did so and Simza reappeared. This man must have been one of her clients.

"Welcome, I'm Madame Simza," she said in the same mystical voice she had used on me earlier. "Cards can illuminate your past, clarify your present, and show you the future." She lit a match and waved it in the air, creating a ring of smoke. "If you have a specific question hold it in your mind." She sat beside me and then looked to me. "Let me know when you're ready."

"Actually, I prefer to read ... your fortune." He took the cards in his hands and Simza and I exchanged a glance.

This should be fun.

After a brief shuffling of the cards, he placed one on the desk. "Temperance Inverted, Indicative of volatility. A woman, who recently taken a confident drink. From what does she seek solace? What does wish to not see?"

"A fool embarrassing himself?" I said and they both smiled.

"Oh, Yes the fool. Someone has been led astray, involved in something without their knowledge."

"Not bad," Simza nodded, "But, You have to make me believe you. I have to see it in your eyes."

"I can do better. The two of cups, a powerful bond. But between whom? A brother and a sister, perhaps? And I see a name ... Yes.. it's Rene."

Simza shifted uncomfortably and frowned. This wasn't funny anymore, this stranger seemed to know a lot about her, was he a fortune teller, too? Or was he some sort of creepy stalker, I think it's safe to say he was the latter.

"What do you want?" She asked, leaning forward a little, but he didn't seem to acknowledge her as he drew one more card, the devil. I couldn't help but hope that this was all some sort of joke. "Why are we playing this game?" She asked again, making her voice sound clearer, stronger. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper with a drawing and a note written on the back. "Where did you get this?"

"I stole it from a woman in an auction room. But I believe It was intended for you."

She took the paper and read it out quietly, mumbling the words and trying to make sense of it all. It was written in Romani, but luckily I had a knack for languages. The letter read:

"Sim, my love, Remember my face, as you will never see it again. That is the price I must pay, to change the course of history."

It was a cry for help. My suspicions were proven when the stranger spoke the last sentence in the letter, "I found my purpose in life. So that question I've been holding is what purpose is Rene fulfilling?"

"Time is up. I have other clients." She was starting to become anxious and impatient and was trying to be calm.

"I think you may not have detected the wisp of Astrakhan fur snagged on a nail from my left shoulder. You couldn't have failed to notice the overpowering aroma of herring pickled in vodka. In tandem with an unfortunate body odor there's a man concealed in the rafters above us." He lowered his voice so that only we could hear. "A Cosac, Renowned for their infeasible acrobatic abilities and are notorious for their hunting us assassins So it's safe to presume your next client is here to kill you. Anything else? No..?"

We looked at each other, eyes wide and I watched as he walked to a rope and pulled it. "Who are you?" I asked.

"The name's Holmes. Sherlock Holmes," he replied with a slight wink.

Author's Note:

AND SCENE! Holmes and Berkeley have finally met. I hope you're all enjoying the story so far. Please feel free to tell me what you think.