Hunting Midnight

Hunting Midnight by Richard Zimler Page B

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Authors: Richard Zimler
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brow. “And you are still beautiful. They can never take that from you. Never!”
    “I am coming home with you today,” Daniel declared. “And I shall sleep at the foot of your bed.”
    “We shall leave for America as soon as we can!” I exclaimed.
    “Hush, both of you!” Mama ordered. “If your mother is not of a mind to believe you, Violeta, then how, in God’s name, does she think you were hurt on these two occasions?”
    “She says I am always falling because I’m so clumsy – that my evil disposition has left me unbalanced. And that my uncle would marry me were I not so awkward.”
    “You would marry a villain who has … who has done these things to you?” Daniel snarled. He took a step toward her and shook his fist. “Listen to me, you will marry no one!”
    “There is a great deal you do not understand,” said Violeta imploringly.
    “Dearest child …” said Mama, caressing her cheek.
    Violeta stilled her hand. “I must go. I’ve already stayed too long.” She stood up.
    “You cannot go!” I shouted. “I shall not let you go back to your home. Mama, tell her she can stay here with us. Tell her! Tell her now.”
    My mother did her best to calm me, saying that she would discuss these matters with Papa that very night, but it was all too much for me. I shouted like a banshee and cursed her as she led my friends away. Then I stumbled to the window and threw my shutters open, mortified by my powerlessness. I called after Violeta and Daniel, but that only made her race off, leaving the lad far behind.
    *
    Later that day my father told me what he had done to Violeta’s uncle Tomás. Two evenings previous, after I had been carried home by the good hunter, he commissioned two petty criminals to destroy each and every clock in Tomás’s shop. The next night,Papa hunted him down to the Willow Tavern, a foul establishment behind the San Francisco Church. He discovered the villain seated at a table fashioned from a barrel, trying to drink away his ruin with a half-empty bottle of gin and gabbling with two cronies guffawing like mules.
    Father marched up to the group and introduced himself as a Mr. Burns. “Sir, I have learned of your misfortune and I should like to interest you in a proposition,” he said.
    He explained to the men that he had acquired a watchmaking shop in Lisbon and was hoping to find a man of proper training to take charge. He suggested that a stroll outside might allow Gonçalves and himself to carry on their conversation in a more private manner. As there was no point in letting a bottle of gin go half empty, he purchased it for them.
    Violeta’s uncle limped along the streets, owing to the hunk of flesh that Fanny had happily ripped from his thigh. Papa strolled arm in arm with him, encouraging him to keep his lips moistened with drink. With the gin thus emptied, he steered the man off into a darkened alley, where he brought the glass bottle down squarely onto his head.
    Gonçalves collapsed to the cobbles but did not lose consciousness . He moaned piteously, “Everything is gone, all gone,” and began to weep.
    Papa now informed the man of his true identity, explaining that he had had his shop smashed to pieces for hurting me and Violeta. “And I will have you reduced to kindling as well, unless you leave for Lisbon now and never return. That is your only choice!”
    Gonçalves was nursing his bleeding head in his hands and struggling to stand back up.
    Papa squatted next to the limp wretch and held the glass spikes of the broken bottle to his face. “I shall put you on the next coach to Lisbon and even pay your way. But should you ever return to Porto, I shall take a bottle just like this one and twist it round your nose until you have neither nostrils nor mouth nor eyes.”
    At precisely twenty-one minutes past seven by my father’s watch, Tomás Gonçalves was gone forever from our city.
    *
    Without Gonçalves and the income provided by his shop, Violeta’s family was

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