“I don’t understand,” he finally said. “I love you.”
Her eyes widened and she thought for sure she would faint. “You love me?”
“Of course I do. You’re sweet and beautiful and the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
She put a hand to her mouth. “Oh no.”
“Oh no? Oh no that I love you? Emma—”
“Dan, I can’t love you. Even though I want to—”
He took her into his arms and kissed her. She resisted his kiss at first; her hands grabbed his upper arms to push him away. A moment later what little resolve she had melted away. Her body relaxed and her right hand let go of him. She kissed him back, though she kept her mouth closed to hold his tongue at bay.
With her right hand she reached into her purse. She took the syringe out and with one hand jammed it into his neck. With her left hand she kept hold of him while she pushed the plunger down with her right. He sagged backwards; she caught him before he could fall and eased him onto one of the beanbag chairs. “Emma?”
“I’m sorry. Just relax. It’ll be over soon.” She waited until his eyes had closed and his breathing slowed. Then she whispered into his ear, “Forget about me, Dan. Go far away from me. Go back to Egypt. Be happy there.”
He didn’t say anything; he just groaned slightly, which she hoped meant he understood. Whether he would follow her instructions or not she had no way to know, at least not yet. She kissed him one last time on the forehead. She was about to carry him down the stairs when there was a flash of white light.
Mrs. Chiostro stood by the doorway, her eyes so sad that Emma’s face turned red with shame. “I had hoped you wouldn’t go through with it,” she said.
“You knew?”
“Of course I did, dear. It was my potion.”
“Are you going to give him an antidote?”
She shook her head. “There is no antidote, I’m afraid.”
Emma nodded at this. “Will it work?”
“It should, unless I did something wrong.”
“Then he’ll forget about me?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. The next time he sees you, you’ll be a complete stranger to him. He might feel some déjà vu, but that’s all.”
Tears bubbled up in Emma’s eyes as she looked down at Dan. Then she turned back to Mrs. Chiostro. “Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Because I had to let you make your choice. You remember what I told you about when I married Alejandro?”
“They let you marry him because they knew that would be your punishment, to watch him grow old.”
“Yes. This will be your punishment for tampering with magic.” Mrs. Chiostro put an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “I’m very sorry, dear.”
“It’s my fault,” Emma whispered. “I couldn’t let him love me. Not now.”
“I know. Maybe later he can love you again.” Mrs. Chiostro brushed hair away from Emma’s face and then smiled. “You go and take care of that nasty Black Dragoon. I’ll take your young man home. Tomorrow when he wakes up, it will be like nothing happened.”
Emma envied him for that.
***
The ballroom looked as beautiful as Emma had always imagined. Though she had always imagined that when she came here, a handsome man would be on her arm. She had had a handsome man, but she had sent him away for his own protection. She tried not to cry again as she thought of what Mrs. Chiostro had told her.
Becky approached her, a tray of hors d'oeuvres in her hands. In her white blouse and black skirt she looked like the other waitresses circulating around the ballroom. “Hi, kid,” Becky said. “Want one of these canopy things?”
“No, that’s fine. I’m not hungry. Why are you—?”
“One of the caterers got sick. I volunteered to fill in. Thought it would make for a good cover.”
“That’s good thinking.”
“Thanks.” Becky leaned close to her and whispered, “He’s going to be coming in from the observation deck downstairs.”
“You’re sure?”
“Pretty sure.” She looked around to make sure no one was watching them and then reached into her apron. Becky pressed a card like Emma’s Plaine Museum ID into her hand. “This opens up the supply closet back down the hall, third door on your right.”
“Becky—”
“Don’t worry, I got it off the janitor when he was cleaning up after that sick girl.”
“Did you—?”
“Actually, that was my doing,” Sylvia said. She looked the same as at Dan’s presentation with her hair long and red again. “She’ll be fine tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
“Now, come on, let’s circulate.”
“Good luck,” Becky said.
Emma resisted the urge to give her friend a hug, which definitely would have looked out of place in this setting. “In case something happens—”
“Don’t say it,” Becky said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
With that Becky went back to posing as a waitress. Sylvia put a hand on Emma’s shoulder; she steered Emma into a knot of people. Emma said, “I thought you couldn’t—”
“I can’t hurt him. That doesn’t mean I can’t help you.” She leaned down to whisper into Emma’s ear, “I put a couple of surprises in the supply closet. They’re in a green bag.”
“Thanks. I—”
“It’s all right. What kind of aunt would I be if I didn’t help my niece in her time of need?”
Emma smiled at this, though she couldn’t help but think of her real aunt at the nursing home. She should probably ask the witches if they knew anything about Marie. At the moment she had other things to worry about. Like stopping the Black Dragoon.
As she and Sylvia made their way around the room, Emma saw Detective Donovan over by a potted plant. It was the first time Emma had ever seen the detective in a skirt. The dress she wore looked so stiff she had probably bought it on her way here. A Hispanic man in an ill-fitting tuxedo stood next to her; he fidgeted nervously, a bulge evident in his jacket from his gun.
Beneath one of the elaborate crystal chandeliers was Don Vendetta with some of her bodyguards and another well-dressed woman. Emma looked a moment too long; the don saw her and grinned. Emma pressed herself closer to Sylvia for protection.
The don might have come over if one of Lintner’s people hadn’t mounted the stage then. He tapped the microphone a couple of times to test it and then said, “Hello ladies and gentlemen. I hope you’re all enjoying the refreshments. Before Mr. Lintner comes up here to say a few words, I’d like to thank you all for showing up on such short notice—”
While the man went on, Emma and Sylvia started back towards the doorway. Emma looked back over her shoulder, but no one seemed to be watching her. She made it through the doors, into the hallway. Sylvia patted her shoulder and then turned back to the ballroom. “I’d better let you go. Good luck, sweetheart.”
The old witch gave Emma a hug and then started to go. “Just remember what I told you.”
“I will,” Emma said.
The card Becky had given her worked perfectly; the door opened without a problem. It was a tight squeeze, but Emma figured there would be enough room for her to put on the armor in here. She saw the olive green bag dangling from one shelf; no doubt this was the bag Sylvia had left for her. Inside, Emma found grenades like the one Sylvia had used in the Plastic Hippo to rescue her. A note said, “These should keep him from seeing you. I wish I could do more—Aunt Sylvia.”
This brought a smile to Emma’s face. She tucked the bag back onto a shelf and then said, “Mekka lekka weep ninibaum.” The red case appeared at her feet. She opened the lid and saw the armor inside, no worse for wear after being in police custody. As she began to put it on, she hoped she wasn’t too late.
She didn’t have to worry about that. With the cape wrapped around her body to remain invisible, she saw Lintner climb onto the stage. There was polite applause, most of it from Don Vendetta’s bodyguards. Lintne
r let this go on for a while, which worked out well for Emma; she had made it halfway across the room before Lintner began to speak.
“My friends,” he began. “We are here tonight because our city is in grave peril. Criminals plague not only our streets, but our parks, our schools, our workplaces, and sometimes even our homes.”
Emma reached the side of the stage. She used the boots to bounce a few inches into the air and hoped she didn’t have one of her usual landings. She managed to keep on her feet while Lintner continued to speak. “Our city is so awash in crime that a disturbed woman recently took it upon herself to battle the criminals in this city. This sick individual slaughtered hundreds of them. And for that she was killed by our city’s police force.”
Emma bristled at the description of her as disturbed and a “sick individual.” She turned to watch the window behind the stage, where the Dragoon would likely come in at.
“My friends,” Lintner continued. “This woman’s methods were wrong, but her heart was in the right place. We must stand up to these thugs who flood our city with drugs, guns, and chaos. We must fight back!”
It probably wasn’t noticeable to anyone else, but Emma could see Lintner’s eyes flick to the right. This must have been the Dragoon’s cue. Lintner cleared his throat and then said again, “We must fight back—”
This time the Dragoon smashed through the window. Screams rose up from among the crowd, while Emma noticed no reaction from Don Vendetta or her goons. This was a confirmation of everything Becky had said.
Lintner stood frozen on the stage, a good enough actor that Emma would have believed his look of fear if she didn’t know better. The Dragoon stomped across the stage; his eyes glowed red and he brandished his claws. “You fool,” the Dragoon growled. “You think you can fight back against me?”
Lintner didn’t get a chance to answer. The Dragoon stabbed him in the midsection. From where Emma stood, it looked perfectly real. She hoped Becky hadn’t been wrong about this part of the scheme. Lintner collapsed onto his back with a scream of pain. Those in the crowd who didn’t know this was a put-on began to scream and flee in a panic.
“This city belongs to me now!” the Dragoon roared.
“Not yet,” Emma said, dropping the cape. She punched the Dragoon squarely in the chest. The blow sent him back through the opening. She wanted to go after him, but she had something else to do first.
She picked Lintner up and tore open his shirt to reveal a blood pack like what Hollywood used to simulate wounds. Beneath this, Lintner’s skin was completely unblemished. She held the blood pack in one hand while she kept the other on Lintner. “What you’ve seen was all a lie. This man wanted to trick you into voting for him, to give that monster control of the city,” Emma said.
“I didn’t—” Lintner blubbered until Emma looked down at him. He pointed towards Don Vendetta. “She put me up to it!”
That was enough for Emma. She tossed Lintner to the man with Donovan. Emma looked around the room of astonished faces to see that Becky and Sylvia were still safe.
Then she threw herself through the window.
Chapter 30
Emma couldn’t resist screaming as she plummeted from Robinson Tower. She could have used the cape to drift down gently to the ground, but she had spent too much time upstairs already. She had to catch up to the Dragoon or else she’d lose him.
The sidewalk filled her vision as she plunged down. She could see astonished people point up at her. Even in Rampart City you didn’t see someone in red armor and a gold cape jump from the highest building in the city every day. She tried to judge her altitude from the proximity of the ground. After she performed the mental calculations to account for wind resistance, she estimated in five seconds she should try to right herself and use the cape.
It proved difficult to get herself into position at her speed and with the forces of gravity against her. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to fight through it. She found herself looking up at the tower, from where she’d jumped. She reached back and got the cape into position. As advertised, the cape billowed like a parachute; it snapped her back hard enough that she groaned from pain. It did slow her down, so she could touch down gently on the sidewalk.
She still hit the sidewalk hard enough to buckle her knees. Marlin would have chided her for falling down, even though he didn’t have a pair of legs and probably hadn’t in four thousand years. With another grunt, Emma pushed herself back up to her feet.
It was easy enough to see where the Black Dragoon had landed. He didn’t have a cape to use as a parachute, so he had plowed into the ground like one of Emma’s meteors. This had left a hole the size of a Volkswagen in Executive Plaza. Curious onlookers had gathered around this to stare into the hole.
“Get away from there!” Emma shouted. To help make her point, she took the Sword of Justice from its sheath. “Get out of here!”
Brandishing the sword seemed to get the point across. The bystanders took off in all directions. A few seconds later, the Black Dragoon crawled out of the hole.
Emma already had the Sword of Justice on its way. The gold blade spun end-over-end at the Dragoon’s head. Emma prepared herself to slow it up at the last second so she wouldn’t kill Ian inside the suit. This wasn’t necessary as the Dragoon swatted the sword away with one hand. Emma stopped it and called it back towards her as she dove to her left at the same time.
Three claws whizzed past her, one narrowly missing her cape. As she landed, she extended her hand to collect the Sword of Justice. After she tucked this into its sheath, Emma rolled to cover herself with the cape.
The Dragoon had gotten to his feet, his red eyes glowing as he searched for her. “Foolish girl,” he said. “You should have stayed dead. This time I will make sure.”
The spike on the Dragoon’s left foot extended until it was nearly six feet long. He snapped this off to hold like a spear. The spear he swept around to keep Emma from getting in close. She didn’t have any intention of trying, at least not yet.
She reached into the bag Sylvia had given to her and took out one of the grenades. She pulled the pin and then tossed the grenade at the Dragoon’s feet. A plume of red smoke shot into the air; the smoke soon billowed into a cloud. The Dragoon roared at this. He stabbed randomly with his spear in an attempt to kill her.
She still didn’t advance on him. Instead she took the Sword of Justice from its sheath again. She hurled it away from her and brought it out into a wide arc until it was off to the Dragoon’s left. The sword glowed in the presence of evil, apparently bright enough that the Dragoon could see it.
When he stabbed at the sword, she came around from the other direction. As she had on the opera house roof, she launched himself at him with both legs; this time she kicked him squarely in the back. The Dragoon toppled forward while Emma fell down next to him. She recovered first and grabbed the Sword of Justice with one hand to level it at the Dragoon.
“It’s over now,” she said.
He turned his head, his eyes glowing red as they had on the opera house roof. “You can’t defeat me. You’re nothing more than a pathetic child—”
“That won’t work this time,” she said. “Take off the armor, Ian. I’ll take you to the police.”
Right on cue the police appeared. A bullet pinged off Emma’s right shoulder. She saw Lieutenant Kramer with a dozen other cops. Had Donovan told him? Or had they heard of the commotion going on at Robinson Tower and hurried to the scene?
She didn’t get a chance to think about it any more as a shotgun blast knocked the Sword of Justice from her hand. The Dragoon seized this opportunity to kick her in the midsection. The Dragoon ran away into the night while Emma turned to face Kramer and the cops.
“What are you doing? He’s getting away!”
“You’re under arrest, freak,” Kramer said.
“For what?”
“Stealing police evidence for one thing.”
“I didn’t steal it. This is mine.”
>
“Tell it to your lawyer,” Kramer said.
A third voice entered the conversation. “Jesus Christ!” Donovan screamed. “What the hell are you doing, Kramer?”
“This isn’t your business, Sergeant.”
“The hell it’s not.” Donovan stomped towards her fellow cops. “You let the Robinson Park killer go, you moron.”
“You’d better shut your mouth or you’re going on report.”
“Yeah? Report this.” Donovan laid Kramer out with a solid right cross; the lieutenant crumpled to the ground. She glared at the rest of the cops. “Cielo’s got Lintner, Don Vendetta, and her goons up there. Go make sure he keeps them there. Now!”
“Thanks,” Emma mumbled.
“Yeah, well, this doesn’t mean I like you.”
“I understand.”
“Now go catch that bastard.”
“I will,” Emma said. Then she took off into the night.
***
Emma got a block before she saw Marlin approaching. “The bugger’s gone to the museum,” the ghost said.
There were fifty-five museums in the city of different sizes and specialties, but she knew which one Marlin meant. Despite that it was the Black Dragoon in control, it was still Ian inside the suit. What place did Ian know better than the Plaine Museum?
She hurried to the museum by using her boots to bounce to cover more distance. Her landings weren’t perfect, but she got into the habit of rolling as she came down so she could more quickly recover her balance. This allowed her to get to the museum a lot quicker than she would have by foot.
With the boots she could make it up the steps in one leap. She didn’t see the Dragoon behind any of the columns. The front doors were shattered, the metal frames on the floor, surrounded by shards of glass. It was obvious then the Dragoon was inside the museum. He probably thought he would have the advantage in there, since he had worked there so long.
Emma hadn’t worked there as long as Ian, but she had memorized the museum’s layout long before she began to work there. “Ian,” she called out. “Ian, let’s not do this. Come out and surrender the armor.”
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 25
