Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call

by P. T. Dilloway

  “You did?”

  “I had a feeling you would show up tonight.”

  “Oh.” She followed Mrs. Chiostro through the house, to the basement steps.

  The old witch put a hand on Emma’s shoulder and then said, “I’ll put some tea on for us. I have a feeling you’ll be thirsty later.” With a wink, Mrs. Chiostro left Emma to go down the stairs by herself.

  “Sylvia?” she called out. “It’s Emma.”

  “Come on down,” Sylvia said. “Agnes said you were coming.”

  Emma reached the bottom of the steps to find Sylvia with a spear. She had the metal spearhead pointed towards Emma while she looked down the wooden shaft. “You ever heard of the Spear of Destiny?” Sylvia asked.

  “Isn’t that the spear that a Roman soldier used to stab Christ in the side?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Is that—?”

  “This? No. Some little twerp wanted me to think it was. He’s going to have a surprise tomorrow when that gold I gave him turns back into lead.” When Sylvia lowered the spear, Emma breathed a sigh of relief. “So what brings you down here? Haircut not working out for you?”

  “No, it’s not that. I need to talk to you about something else.”

  “If it’s about that club, forget about it. I did a lot of boneheaded things too in my time. I was happy to pull my niece’s bacon out of the fire.”

  Emma blushed at this and looked down at her feet. “Thanks, but there’s something else. I was hoping you could help me with fighting the Dragoon.”

  Sylvia’s face fell at this. She set the spear aside to put an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “I wish I could, sweetheart, but I can’t. My magic wouldn’t be any good against him.”

  “It wouldn’t?”

  “No. Agnes could probably explain it better, but there’s a kind of hierarchy of magic. Merlin was always the top dog, so that armor of yours is at the top. Then comes the Dragoon. And then us in the coven. You understand?”

  “Yes,” Emma said. She supposed it was too much to ask to have some backup. She would have to do this alone. “Maybe you can help me in another way. Is there a way to keep him from using that hypnosis on me again?”

  “I think I have just the thing.” She pulled Emma towards the big metal vault in the room. Emma had assumed this contained more weapons—maybe even some nuclear material—but the weapons inside were all of the much older variety like the supposed Spear of Destiny. Sylvia waved a hand at these. “That’s my collection of magic weapons. That short sword there was the one Theseus used to kill the Minotaur. The bow over there belonged to Robin Hood—”

  “But those are stories.”

  “So are witches, right?”

  “Good point.”

  Sylvia turned Emma to face the opposite wall, which had rows of tiny drawers. “This is where Agnes stores the magic ingredients for her potions. She keeps a few potions on hand too in case of an emergency—like when some girl is rampaging through the city.”

  Emma’s face turned red at this. It was still hard to believe less than three days ago she had been on the verge of losing her mind. At least the policewoman she had taken hostage had been released from the hospital without any major injuries. “I’m sorry about that,” she said.

  “Let’s try to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  Sylvia began to open the drawers, inside which Emma saw a variety of crystals, dried leaves, and roots. The labels on these all had strange names like “dwarvenroot” or “elfstone.” Other drawers contained the tiny vials like the one Becky had given to her. Emma held up a gray vial with the label, “Restoration.”

  “There it is! Good old dragonsbane.”

  “Dragonsbane?”

  Sylvia held up a white crystal spotted with gold. “Fossilized dragon eggshell. Harder than hell to find this stuff anymore.”

  “Dragon eggshell?”

  “Sure. From what my mother used to say, they were all over the place back in the old days. Way up in the mountains mostly. Might still be a few of them hiding somewhere.”

  Emma waited to see if this was a joke, but apparently Sylvia was serious. As a scientist, she found it hard to believe so much could exist right under everyone’s noses. “Is everything real?” she asked. “Like Santa and the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny?”

  “No, those are kid’s stories. Bogeymen are real. Vampires, werewolves, and of course demons. Most of your ancient gods and goddesses too. Bigfoot and Nessie might be real. I’ve tried hunting them down, but I haven’t caught them yet.” The witch smiled at her. “Maybe we could go out looking for them sometime. Just think of the publicity your museum would get if you had an actual Sasquatch.”

  Emma did and shivered; she didn’t want her beloved Plaine Museum to become a circus sideshow. “What does the dragonsbane do?”

  “It filters out psychic energy. I’m not sure how well it will work against the Dragoon, but if I put it in your helmet’s visor, it might keep him from messing with your head.”

  “That would be great,” Emma said. “How long should that take?”

  “A few hours. Dragonsbane is a pain to shape. You have to do it just right or else it’ll crack.”

  Sylvia took the crystal to a worktable and then began to collect tools. Emma called for the armor and then took the helmet out of the crate. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

  “Not right now.”

  Emma nodded and decided to go upstairs. As Mrs. Chiostro had predicted, she was a bit thirsty. The old witch already had the tea ready, along with some oatmeal raisin cookies. She offered Emma a chair. “You two seem to be getting along well,” Mrs. Chiostro said without a trace of bitterness.

  “Yes. She’s very nice.”

  “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, dear, but I’m so glad we met in that funeral home. It’s been so long since either of us has had much company.”

  Emma took a sip of her tea to hide her surprise at this. “What about your coven?” she finally asked.

  Mrs. Chiostro took a sip of her own tea and winced a little. “Things between us and the coven are a bit strained. They have been ever since I married Alejandro. You see, by the coven’s rules, a witch isn’t supposed to marry a mortal.”

  “Why not?”

  “For one thing, we’re not supposed to reveal our magic to anyone. That’s hard to do when you’re living with someone else.” Mrs. Chiostro took another sip of tea and sighed. “Witches also live a long, long time. I married Alejandro almost two hundred years ago.”

  Emma thought about Dan and how much she loved him. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course dear.”

  “How did you know you were in love with Mr. Chiostro?”

  Mrs. Chiostro looked up at the ceiling and smiled wistfully. “Oh my. I was in a cathedral, back in Marseilles where we used to live. He was there to pray for good weather for his ship. I saw him and I just knew it in my heart.”

  Emma thought back to when Dan had first come into her office, the first time he had smiled at her. “I think I know what you mean.”

  “This man you went to the opera with, you want to get serious with him?”

  “Yes.” Emma looked down at the table. “But I’m not sure I should. What happens if I tell him I love him and then the Dragoon kills me?”

  “That won’t happen, dear.”

  “What if it does, though? I’d break his heart. Even if I live, I’d have to keep lying to him about everything. I’m not sure I could do it.”

  Mrs. Chiostro reached across the table to pat Emma’s hand. “Now, dear, you shouldn’t worry so. I was married to Alejandro for fifty years and he never found out I was a witch.”

  “Did you ever feel guilty about lying to him?”

  “All the time, but I knew it was for his own good.”

  “You didn’t think about not being a witch?”

  “I did. I thought the coven would force me to give up my powers. I would have done so
happily if it meant I could be with Alejandro.”

  “But they didn’t.”

  “No. They knew I was going to be punished enough to watch him grow old and die. My children too. My poor grandbabies—” Mrs. Chiostro stopped, as tears came to her eyes. Emma pressed a napkin into the old witch’s hand.

  “I’m sorry,” Emma said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Mrs. Chiostro dabbed at her eyes. “No, dear, it’s all right. It’s been so long, but I still miss them.” She wagged a finger at Emma. “But I don’t regret a thing. You remember what I told you in the funeral home, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I miss them, but I remember the times we shared. I wouldn’t trade those for anything.” The old witch stopped crying and smiled at Emma. “I’m sure that’s how you’ll feel with your young beau.”

  Emma blushed; she had never thought of Dan as a “beau” before. “I guess so,” she said.

  “Take it from me, dear, a love like that doesn’t come along very often. I’m five hundred and twelve years old and Alejandro is the only one I’ve ever loved liked that. So when it happens, you have to seize it with both hands. Understand?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  She went downstairs to check on Sylvia. The witch was still hard at work on cutting the dragonsbane to fit the helmet. Emma went back into the vault so she wouldn’t disturb Sylvia. Out of scientific curiosity, she opened the drawers to study the various ingredients Mrs. Chiostro used for her potions. She would love to study these ingredients scientifically to try and determine what made magic work. She doubted Sylvia or her sister would allow that to happen.

  Inside a drawer she saw the vials of potions Mrs. Chiostro had brewed. They all had names like expensive perfumes: “Restoration,” “Lucid Dreaming,” or “Inner Child.” From what she remembered of the “Lucid Dreaming” one though, it certainly didn’t smell like perfume.

  Then she came to one called “Memory Loss.” She held this up and stared at the label for a full minute. She wished there were some kind of directions included with these, but obviously Mrs. Chiostro didn’t need directions after five hundred years. Nor did she intend for a “mortal” like Emma to play around with her potions.

  ‘“Memory Loss,”’ she mumbled to herself. She thought back to her conversation with Mrs. Chiostro. The witch had said she didn’t regret marrying her husband and watching him and their children grow old and die. Did she really mean it? Or had it been so long ago that the pain had become more bearable?

  Once she made sure Sylvia wasn’t looking, Emma slipped the potion into her pocket.

  ***

  Donovan had been in another boring task force meeting when the desk officer told her she had a phone call. She hoped nothing else had happened to Lois Early; they had released Lois from the Parkdale hospital, but she still wasn’t fully recovered. The call wasn’t from the hospital. A woman’s raspy voice hissed, “Hello, Detective. This is the Scarlet Knight.”

  “You,” Donovan said. She thought of the crazy vigilante in the red armor people in the locker room had mentioned. “What the hell do you want?”

  “I want to meet with you. Somewhere private. Midnight. The band shelter in Robinson Park. Come alone. I wouldn’t want to have to hurt any of your fellow officers.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  The woman’s voice sounded a little rattled, some of the raspiness gone from it as she said, “No. I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I will if I have to.”

  “What about you? Are you coming alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be there.” The line went dead and Donovan sighed. Going to Robinson Park at night, alone, to meet an armed vigilante who had incapacitated at least four armed thugs without a scratch probably wasn’t the best idea. Still, Donovan’s gut told her whatever this woman wanted, it was something important for her to call the police station. And there was a slim hope Donovan might get a chance to find out who this woman was and put her in the loony bin where she belonged.

  ***

  Donovan sat on the stage of the band shelter, smoking a cigarette as she waited for this Scarlet Knight to show up. The cigarette fell from her lips and she reached for her gun when the vigilante appeared on the stage.

  “You come alone?” the Scarlet Knight asked.

  “Of course,” Donovan said. She got to her feet and realized this Scarlet Knight was at least four inches taller than her, not to mention a lot heavier with that armor. “Not much point bringing in the SWAT team against someone whose armor can deflect bullets, is there?”

  “Good point.”

  Donovan reached into her jacket for another cigarette. “So did you come here to discuss your surrender?”

  “After a fashion.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m going to loan you this armor. I need you to do something for me.”

  “How about you turn yourself in and I’ll put in a good word with the DA for you?”

  “I can’t do that. Something is going to happen at the Lintner rally tomorrow. I have to be there to stop it.”

  “Why, you working for him now? Moonlighting as a bodyguard?”

  “No. He’s working for the Black Dragoon, the one who cut up those people in the park.” The Scarlet Knight described a scheme between this Black Dragoon, Lintner, and Don Vendetta to make Lintner the mayor and in turn for the Dragoon and Vendetta to gain absolute control over the city.

  Donovan listened and then blew out a cloud of smoke. “Okay, let’s say I believe you. Why don’t I station a bunch of cops in the building and we take them down?”

  “Your bullets won’t work on the Dragoon. His armor is like mine that way. I’m the only one who can stop him.”

  “So what do you need me for?”

  “I’m going to expose Lintner as a fraud. When I do, I want you there to arrest him.”

  “Why me? I’m a homicide detective. Arresting a councilman for fraud isn’t my jurisdiction.”

  “I don’t want to risk going to anyone else. I can trust you. You’re one of the good guys.”

  “Gee, coming from you that really makes me feel better.”

  “In twenty minutes, go to the playground in the southwest corner. You’ll find a trash bag there with my armor inside. I need you to take it and make sure the papers know that this dangerous vigilante is out of business.”

  “And then what? You’re going to break into police headquarters and get it back?”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll handle it.”

  Donovan tossed her cigarette onto the stage. “And why should I do all of this for you?”

  “It’s not for me. It’s for the city. For all those innocent people out there.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe I’m not that idealistic.”

  The Scarlet Knight sighed at this. Her voice sounded almost like that of a normal woman as she said, “I can do this without your help, but I’d rather you did help me.”

  Donovan thought about it for a moment. She wasn’t idealistic, not like this vigilante, but she was a practical woman. If she could bring Lintner down and he was working with Vendetta, she might get him to roll on the don. “Fine, I’ll help you. Just this one time—” Donovan found she was alone on the stage again.

  She shook her head and then lit another cigarette. She looked at her watch to count the minutes. She could always go and try to get a peek at who was beneath the armor, but she doubted the woman would be that stupid. If she sensed she was being followed, she’d take off and Donovan would lose her chance to bring down Lintner.

  The basketball court had been cleaned up since the massacre in the park. There wasn’t anyone around. For that matter the entire park had been empty. Even the gang bangers and homeless weren’t dumb enough to come back here yet. All she saw was a trash bag on the free throw line of the court. Inside were the red armor, gold cape, and the rest of it. There was a typewritten note that said, “Only those who are worthy
may wear the armor. All others will forfeit their lives. Please take good care of this for me. SK.”

  Despite the message, Donovan was still tempted to try the armor on. If she had that kind of strength and speed, she could clean up this town. She reached down to touch the helmet and promptly pulled her finger back. She put the finger into her mouth to try and soothe the burnt digit. The bitch wasn’t kidding. With a sigh, Donovan sealed the bag and started to drag it back to her car.

  Chapter 28

  Donovan wished for a cigarette to keep from laughing. Watching Kramer up at the podium taking credit for “apprehending” the vigilante known as the Scarlet Knight was better than any sitcom on TV. She put a hand to her mouth in time to stifle another laugh as Kramer said, “With this vigilante off the streets, the people of Rampart City can rest comfortably tonight.”

  Donovan slipped out of the room and hurried outside to light a cigarette. She shook her head sadly at that travesty of a press conference. The media seemed to be lapping it up, despite the fact most everything Kramer had said was complete bullshit.

  The Scarlet Knight had not been “apprehended.” She had surrendered her armor and the woman beneath it was still out there. She was hardly off the streets and Donovan knew she wasn’t going to be out of business for very long. Tonight the armor strapped to a CPR dummy to show off for the media would mysteriously disappear from the evidence locker and the Scarlet Knight would appear at Robinson Tower.

  Just how the vigilante would pull this off Donovan didn’t know. That wasn’t her business. She had brought the armor to the precinct and dumped it onto Kramer’s desk. She figured he would do exactly as he had done and brag to the whole world he’d taken down the dangerous criminal. She was more than happy to let him hog the credit; she didn’t want to have to appear on camera later to explain why the Scarlet Knight had suddenly reappeared.

  She threw her cigarette to the ground. Let Kramer entertain the press with his fantasy tales; she had work to do. In particular she had to prepare to arrest a councilman tonight.