Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 17

  “Kill him already!” Marlin shouted.

  “She can’t kill me, ghost. She’s too afraid of getting blood on her hands—”

  As the Dragoon spoke, Emma’s vision filled with red. Not the bright red of the Dragoon’s eyes, but a much darker red. She put a hand to her face and felt something sticky there. She held up her glove to see blood dripping from it. More blood began to appear on her glove. She held up the other hand to see it too covered in blood.

  “Blood,” she whispered. “Blood…everywhere.”

  The Sword of Justice clattered to the rooftop while Emma staggered away from the Dragoon. He got to his feet and fired a barrage of claws, but she still had enough wherewithal to dodge these. She rolled off the roof and plummeted five stories to the sidewalk below. The armor protected her from the fall, but when she got to her feet, she saw a figure lying in the street, covered in blood.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Marlin shouted at her.

  “Blood,” Emma whispered again. “So much blood.”

  “There isn’t any blood, you twit! He’s done something to your mind. It’s an illusion. You’ve got to fight against it.”

  She ignored this as she stumbled towards the figure in the road. Once she reached it, she sank to her knees and screamed. She felt a sharp pain in her head, as if someone were driving nails into her skull. The figure in the road disappeared, but the blood remained. She’s not here, Emma thought. I have to find her.

  “Damn it, Emma, get up and let’s go home!” Marlin shouted.

  “Home,” she whispered. She nodded slightly and then loped off into the night.

  ***

  Becky had finished the entire box of chocolates by eleven o’clock. She didn’t have any idea how long an opera lasted. There was the possibility they would go out afterwards to get some coffee—or tea in Emma’s case. Becky doubted they would go back to his place or anywhere else to make out. Emma wasn’t that kind of girl. She didn’t put out on the first date. Becky didn’t think Dr. Dreyfus was the type to try and force himself on Emma, but maybe she was wrong.

  She became even more worried once the phone rang at midnight. The moment she heard Dr. Dreyfus’s voice, she knew something had gone wrong. “Is she there?” he asked.

  “Emma? No. I thought she was with you,” Becky said.

  “She was, but then she left to get an ambulance—”

  “An ambulance?”

  “There was some kind of riot here. Then this old man was having a heart attack. We got him into the bathroom and she said she’d get an ambulance. They showed up but she didn’t.”

  “Shit,” Becky said.

  “You haven’t heard from her?”

  “No. Where are you?”

  “I’m at the hospital. If you do see her, tell her the old man pulled through.”

  “That’s great,” Becky said absently.

  “I’m going back to the opera house,” he said. “Maybe she’s still there.”

  “Fine. I’ll stay here in case she shows up. You’d better call the second you find anything out,” she said. She loaded as much menace as possible into her voice.

  “I’m really sorry about all of this.”

  “You’d better be. It’s your fault.”

  “Becky—”

  “You’d better get off the line. She might try to call.”

  Becky hung up the phone and then let out a scream of rage. She should have known better than to let Emma go off alone like that. She should have found someone to make it a double date. Then she could have kept an eye on her best friend, to keep her out of trouble.

  She heard a metallic thud from Emma’s bedroom. She ran down the hallway, to the bedroom. Maybe she had used the fire escape, though it wasn’t like Emma not to call. She should have known her date and her best friend were worried about her.

  Becky tapped on the door. “Emma? Are you in there?” She pressed her ear to the door. From inside she could hear the sound of someone whimpering. “Emma? Are you all right?” When Emma still didn’t answer, Becky said, “I’m going to come in now.”

  She threw open the door to find the room dark. She stepped over to Emma’s bed, but didn’t see or feel her friend on it. She could clearly hear her friend moaning.

  Squinting in the darkness, she saw Emma hunched in the corner, clad in only her underwear. Becky shook her head and said, “It’s all right, Emma. Whatever happened, you can tell me about it.”

  Becky stood up and started to go around the bed. At the foot of it, she stumbled over something, barely catching herself in time. She reached down to find a piece of metal with a leather strap on the back of it. She felt around and found more pieces of metal with straps and buckles connected to them. When she assembled these in her mind, they made up a leg.

  As she continued to grope around, she found a breastplate with an unmistakable feminine shape. She found a helmet with a plume attached to it, which confirmed her suspicions. Even in the dim light from the hallway, Becky knew what this was. It was the suit of armor that woman in the alley had worn, the one who had saved her life. Is this why she was so upset?

  “Emma, it’s all right. You didn’t have to keep it secret from me. I’m not mad.”

  With the helmet in hand, she crept around the other side of the bed to kneel down in front of Emma. Emma turned around, but there was something terribly wrong with her eyes. They no longer had an iris or a pupil; they had become entirely gold-colored. These lit up as she stared at Becky.

  “Emma, what happened—?”

  That was as far as she got before Emma took hold of her arms and threw her backwards. Becky flew across the room and crashed through the wall. She lay amongst a pile of drywall and stared up at her friend, whose eyes continued to glow. “Emma—”

  “Home,” Emma muttered and then stomped towards the window. Becky reached out to try and grab her, but couldn’t. As her world went dark, Becky heard her friend land on the fire escape.

  Chapter 21

  Becky got on her tiptoes to open the door to the classroom. Inside she saw a semicircle of chairs in front of a chalkboard. On the other side of the room were rugs and more toys than Becky had ever seen before. She wanted to go over and play with these, but other kids were already over there.

  These other kids looked vastly different from her. Their clothes looked brand new and fit properly. Their backpacks looked new as well, not all dirty and torn like hers. None of them were fat, at least not fat like her. She looked down at her feet, already feeling like an outcast.

  She hoped she could go unseen, but a boy saw her and said, “Look at the big pig!” He began to oink at her, some of the others following suit. Mama called her Piggy all the time, but this was different. These were strangers being mean to her.

  She slunk off to sit in one of the chairs, the one closest to the window. She had never seen a yard so big and green or a tree so tall and leafy except in picture books. A robin fluttered past the window to perch itself on the tree. She stared at its red breast until she heard a woman say, “Now you be a good girl and play nice with the other children.”

  The woman knelt down in front of a little girl with red pigtails. These pigtails were perfectly balanced, a pink ribbon that exactly matched the girl’s dress tying back each one. That dress looked brand new like the clothes the other kids wore.

  “I wiw, Mommy,” the girl said.

  “I know you will, baby. I’ll be right here when you’re done. If you’re good we can go get ice cream.”

  “Oh boy!” the girl said. She leaned forward to kiss her mother on the cheek. “I wuv you, Mommy.”

  “I love you too, baby.” She gave the girl a hug and then a kiss on the forehead.

  This scene nearly brought tears to Becky’s eyes. Her mother had never said anything like that to her. Her mother never hugged her or kissed her. Instantly she felt a tide of jealousy rise up in her. She turned back to the window, but the robin had gone.

  “What are you doing here, baby?” th
e boy who had teased Becky earlier said. His use of the word “baby” sounded far different from the girl’s mother.

  “I’m not a baby,” the girl said. “Babies ow zewo to two. I’m fo.”

  “You talk like a baby.”

  “Do not.”

  “Do so,” the boy said. He pushed his voice up an octave as he said, “You tawk wike a widow baby.”

  Becky probably would have slugged the boy by now, but this girl didn’t. She didn’t even cry. She walked away to sit down next to Becky. To Becky’s surprise, the girl took a book out of her bag—a real book, with chapters—and began to read. She continued to do this until the teacher came in.

  Their teacher was an old woman named Mrs. Borland, who had such a soft voice it was difficult to hear her sometimes. Once the other kids took their seats, she had everyone introduce themselves. The mean boy introduced himself as Scotty Harper; at least now Becky would know what name to use when she had to tell on him.

  The girl next to Becky said, “My name is Emma Earw. Mommy said I have to come here to wearn to pway with other kids.”

  “That’s very nice, Emma,” Mrs. Borland said.

  Then it was Becky’s turn. “My name is Becky Beech,” she said and then sat down, so they wouldn’t have any more reasons to make fun of her.

  For their first lesson, Mrs. Borland drew a letter ‘A’ on the board. She made long and short sounds of it and then asked who knew of any words that began like that. Emma raised her hand, almost popping out of her seat until Mrs. Borland acknowledged her. She began a list of words that went on for three minutes until the teacher finally stopped her. “That’s very good, Emma. Anyone else?”

  Emma’s freckled cheeks turned red at this. She looked down at the floor; her lower lip trembled as if she were about to cry. She didn’t raise her hand to answer the next question.

  Halfway through class, Mrs. Borland came around with a tray of milk and chocolate chip cookies. Becky gulped the cookies down in two bites; she hadn’t eaten cookies since her third birthday. She turned back to the window, so she couldn’t see the other kids eat their snack.

  When she felt someone nudge her in the midsection she thought it was Scotty Harper trying to pick on her. “Leave me alone,” she snapped.

  “Sowwy,” Emma said. “I thought you might want my cookies. Mommy says I can’t eat chocowate. I’m awergic to it.”

  Becky turned to see Emma looking down at her feet, her lip trembling again. If Becky didn’t take the cookies the girl would probably start to cry. Besides, Becky was still hungry. “Thanks,” she said. She took the cookies from Emma. The little girl reached into her backpack for a paper bag, inside which she had a couple of oatmeal raisin cookies.

  “You want to spwit them?” she asked.

  “You’re not hungry?”

  “Not weawy.” Still hungry, Becky ate one-and-a-half of these, while Emma only nibbled on half of one.

  After the snack, they each took a rug for a nap. When Emma tried to set hers down, Scotty Harper snatched it from her hands. “Babies can’t sleep here. You’ll probably wet your diaper.”

  “I don’t have a diaper.” She tried to take the rug back, but Scotty pulled it out of her reach.

  Mrs. Borland had stepped out of the room to show another girl to the bathroom or else she might have intervened. There was nothing Emma could do then except to futilely reach for the rug and shout, “Give it back!”

  Becky could see it wouldn’t be long before Emma started to cry. This little girl who had been so generous to her didn’t deserve that. Becky stepped past Emma, to snatch the rug from Scotty’s hands. When he tried to get it back, she shoved him away. “We don’t want to sleep near any stinky boys anyway,” she said. She took Emma’s arm and led her away from the others.

  “Thank you,” Emma said.

  “It’s all right. He’s a meany anyway.”

  With that they lay side-by-side on the floor. Becky smiled at her new friend.

  ***

  When she opened her eyes, Becky felt a moment of disorientation before she recognized Emma’s bedroom. She hoped she would find out this had all been a terrible dream. That idea went out the window when she saw she was still inside the wall of Emma’s bedroom. With a groan she sat up. Her head ached and if she moved it more than a millimeter the entire room would spin. As she reached up to check the back of her head for blood, she realized she had somehow kept hold of the helmet.

  Becky didn’t know how to make sense of the rest of what she’d seen. Why had Emma’s eyes been glowing like that? And how the hell could she throw Becky into a wall? None of it made any sense.

  A flash of white light blinded her. She was still blinking away the popping flashbulbs as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She tried to shake it away, but the hand held firm. “It’s all right, Rebecca. We’re not going to hurt you,” Mrs. Chiostro whispered.

  Becky couldn’t hold back a nervous laugh. “No one calls me Rebecca,” she said. “Not even my mom ever did.”

  Her vision finally cleared enough that she could see the old seamstress beside her on the floor. Mrs. Chiostro smiled at Becky and said, “I think it’s a beautiful name. Now, up we go.”

  Despite that Mrs. Chiostro was a couple inches shorter and much lighter, she didn’t seem to have any trouble at all in hoisting Becky up to her feet. Becky’s head spun again for a moment, so she had to reach out for Emma’s bed to keep from falling down. Mrs. Chiostro helped her to sit down on the bed to rest.

  “What are you doing here?” Becky asked. “Emma doesn’t need a dress.”

  “I know, dear. Your friend is in serious trouble. We need your help.”

  Becky was about to ask who Mrs. Chiostro meant by “we,” but then she saw another old woman in the doorway. This old woman wore a green army jacket and camouflage pants. Becky couldn’t help but notice the gun holstered on the woman’s hip. “You didn’t get a chance to meet my sister Sylvia earlier,” Mrs. Chiostro said.

  “Hi,” Becky said. She eyed the gun; were they here to rob her?

  “I looked around the building but there’s no sign of her,” Sylvia said. “She’s moving pretty damned fast for a mortal.”

  “What happened to her?”

  Mrs. Chiostro sat down on the bed beside Becky and put an arm around her shoulder. “This isn’t going to make much sense, at least not in the traditional sense. What you have to understand is there is a whole other world out there, one kept hidden from normal people like you. It’s the world of magic.”

  “Magic? Like David Copperfield?”

  “No, dear. Real magic.” Becky nearly fainted as she watched Mrs. Chiostro go from an elderly woman to a beautiful young girl in seconds. This much younger woman tossed long blond hair over her shoulder so Becky could see she still had the same kindly blue eyes. “Some of us, like Sylvia and I, were born into this world.”

  “What are you?”

  “We’re witches. We have been for a long time now. Five hundred twelve years for me to be exact.”

  “Are you actually sisters?”

  “Yes,” Sylvia said. Becky turned to see that she too had made herself into a young woman, only with wavy dark red hair that reminded Becky of Emma’s mother. “You don’t see the resemblance?”

  “There are more of us around the world. Not biological sisters, but sisters in magic,” Mrs. Chiostro said. “We make sure magic stays in balance and doesn’t do harm to people like you.”

  Becky looked from Mrs. Chiostro back to Sylvia. Maybe there was a way for them to fake those transformations; if so they should definitely be in Las Vegas. Then there was the matter of how they had suddenly appeared in the apartment. “Okay, let’s say you are witches and there really is magic. What does that have to do with Emma?”

  “Your friend found a magic suit of armor created by Merlin the wizard millennia ago. She became what’s known as the Scarlet Knight.”

  “So you’re saying Emma found this armor and now she’s a superhero?”

/>   “That’s one way to think of it, yes.”

  “Then what happened to her?”

  “That’s much harder to explain. We’re not even sure exactly what happened. What we do know is she was fighting a particularly nasty monster called the Black Dragoon and he used some kind of hypnosis on her. She started to have terrible visions and that’s when it happened.”

  “What?”

  “We think the armor sensed she was cracking up and so it bonded with her to try and stabilize her mind.”

  Becky looked down at the armor scattered around the floor and then at the wall. “Doesn’t seem like it worked.”

  “I’m afraid not.” Mrs. Chiostro patted Becky’s arm. “But it could have been much worse. It could have simply destroyed her, turned her into a pile of ash.”

  “It would do that?”

  “To protect the integrity of its magic, yes, I’m afraid so. In a way she’s very lucky, because now you have a chance to save her.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. In her present state, she won’t listen to Sylvia or I. But you’re her best friend.”

  Becky motioned to the wall. “In case you haven’t noticed, she hasn’t been too friendly to me either.”

  “No matter what the Dragoon and the armor have done to her, she’s still the same girl in her heart. Reach that and you can save her.”

  “Save her? How am I supposed to do that?”

  Mrs. Chiostro took out another vial, this one bright red with a label that read, “Lucid Dreaming.” “You must give her two teaspoons of this.”

  “And you have to do it by sunrise,” Sylvia said. “Otherwise we have to destroy her.”

  “Destroy her?”

  “I’m afraid so, dear. We can’t have her running around with the power of the armor and an unstable mind. She’s dangerous.”

  Becky wanted to dispute this, but she only had to look at the wall again to know they were right. She eyed the vial warily. “You’re sure it will work?”

  “It will work fine,” Mrs. Chiostro said. She smiled, though this didn’t comfort Becky much. “I’ve been doing this for almost five hundred years, dear. I know what I’m doing.”