Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call
Page 62
Emma stopped herself. She was jumping to conclusions. Becky wanted to enjoy her last night as a single woman. Tomorrow she would be married, with all the responsibilities that entailed. She wanted to savor her last hours of complete freedom. And she had drunk quite a bit of wine.
As the music came to a stop, Isis and Becky fell against each other and laughed joyously. Emma scowled at this. Why couldn’t she be happy for them? Why couldn’t she accept that Isis was a wonderful, friendly person? Because she took Dan away from me.
Even as these thoughts went through Emma’s head she knew they were wrong. Her jealousy was the real unforgivable sin. She was supposed to be pure of heart, a requirement to be the Scarlet Knight. At the moment she didn’t feel pure of heart; she felt like a monster. She felt like the Black Dragoon.
With this in mind, she made a point to cross the dance floor to join Isis and Becky. “That was great,” Emma said with a forced smile. “I’ve never been able to get Becky to dance.”
“She’s a natural,” Isis said.
“A natural disaster,” Becky said. She patted Isis on the shoulder. “She carried me.”
“Maybe she could show me some moves.”
“Yes, I’d like that very much. If Becky doesn’t mind?”
“No, I think I’ll go get a drink.”
The music started again. Isis took Emma’s hand and then launched her into a break. Only Emma’s well-honed reflexes kept her upright. As the dance continued, it became apparent to her that Isis wanted Emma to fall. Sweat poured into Emma’s eyes so she could hardly see anything around her as Isis launched them across the dance floor. Isis didn’t sweat at all; she never seemed to tire.
The music mercifully came to an end. Emma felt as winded as if she’d run ten miles while Isis was as calm as if she’d stood still the entire time. “You’re very good,” Isis said. “Once you learn some rhythm you’ll be much better.”
“Thanks. You’re good too.”
“I had exceptional teachers.”
Becky slapped them both on the back. “That was a-fucking-mazing! I could hardly see you two you were going so fast. You two need to go on some talent show.”
“I don’t think we’re that good,” Emma said. She was grateful when they drifted over to the bar so she could get an ice water—with extra ice. She downed this and then signaled the bartender for another one.
“Are you guys done jitterbugging?” Brandi whined.
“We should be getting home. Tomorrow’s a big day.”
“Oh, don’t be such sticks in the mud. There’s still plenty of time.”
“I think they’re right,” Emma said. “You don’t want bags under your eyes tomorrow, do you?”
“I’ll be wearing a veil. Live a little.”
“Where do you want to go?” Emma asked her friend.
“I have an idea,” Isis said.
***
Another argument erupted over who would drive them to their mystery destination. Isis had yet to get an American driver’s license. Becky was too drunk to drive. Emma had rarely handled anything larger than a motorcycle. Bambi volunteered to drive to settle the argument. Becky moved to the backseat, where she sat with her head on Emma’s shoulder. Her snores began to fill the car, enough to blot out the music on the radio.
“Maybe we should go home,” Emma said.
“No,” Becky somehow said through her snores.
As Bambi drove, Emma recognized the neighborhood from her nights out as the Scarlet Knight. It came as little surprise to her when the car pulled up in front of the Plastic Hippo. “Here we are,” Isis said.
“All right!” Brandi said. “Finally we can have some fun!”
“This is a strip club,” Emma said.
“It is?” Isis asked. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
Becky roused herself. “So what? We’ll have some drinks and dance. Don’t be so stuck-up.”
Emma opened the door and then dragged her best friend from the backseat. She recognized the thugs who stood around the front door and in the alley as Don Vendetta’s men. She had probably put some of them in jail at least once. They didn’t pay her any heed without her armor as she led Becky over beside the dumpster.
“What’s your problem, kid?”
“You know who owns this club. I can’t go in there!”
“Why? She’s not going to recognize you.” She reached out to stab Emma’s chest. “If you don’t like it then you can go home. Or you can do that other thing you do.”
Emma put a finger to her lips to shush her friend. “Quiet! If they overhear you—”
“Oh, like any of them will believe a skinny little thing like you could be her. I have trouble believing it sometimes.”
“Becky, you’re drunk. I’m taking you home.”
When Becky pushed her, Emma was too in shock to catch herself before she fell on her rear in the alley. She heard the don’s goons snicker at this. “If you want to be an old sourpuss then you go right ahead. My new friend and I are going in there and you can’t stop us.”
Emma could stop them, but she would have to reveal herself as the Scarlet Knight in front of the don’s henchmen. “Fine. I’ll go home. I’m taking the car and your sisters with me. You two can call for a cab when you’re ready to leave.”
“You do that, you old mother hen.”
Becky staggered over to where Isis waited in line. Emma gave her a final concerned glance, but Becky had already turned away.
***
They took a table near the back of the room. Isis ordered two Long Island iced teas; she sipped hers while Becky guzzled hers. “She can be such a goddamned prude,” Becky said.
“She worries about you because she’s your friend.”
“Her only friend. Except for your husband.” Becky laughed bitterly. “She is so jealous of you, do you realize that? She wanted to be the one who married Dan.”
“Did they date?”
“Oh sure, about five years ago. They went out a few times. The way she’s pined for him it’s like that book. You know the one about the guy who goes away to a war and doesn’t come back for a really long time?”
“The Odyssey?”
“Yeah, that one. She’s like the girl. Petunia or whatever her name was. Sitting around waiting for him to come back.” Becky finished her drink and then snatched Isis’s away. “The stupid thing is she’s the one who sent him away.”
“She did? Dan never said anything of this to me.”
“That’s because he doesn’t know. She thought she was so clever. Look how it bit her in the ass.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She got a potion from this witch so she could wipe his memory. Then she tells him he needs to take a long trip to somewhere. That’s why he went off to Egypt. Of course you weren’t supposed to bring him back here. I’m not sure what the fuck she thought was supposed to happen, maybe that he would pine for her the same way she did for him.”
“Why would she do such a thing?”
“Because she was all worried he’d find out her secret and it would put him in danger.”
“Secret? What secret?”
“I shouldn’t tell you. It’s a secret!”
Isis put a hand on Becky’s shoulder. She leaned forward so that her lips brushed against Becky’s ear. “Go on, you can tell me. I’m your friend too.”
“Well, all right, but you can’t tell anyone.” Becky leaned forward until her head rested on Isis’s shoulder. “Emma is the Scarlet Knight.”
“Who?”
“The superhero or masked vigilante or whatever you want to call her. Like one of those characters in the comic books. You get those in Egypt, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“She’s like that. She found this box of magic armor and put it on and POOF! Now she can leap tall buildings in a single bound and stop bullets and all that. But she can’t fly. So there.”
“I never would have thought such a thing about her.”
“That’s why she’s the hero.”
“Yeah, I suppose. It’s not fair. Growing up she was always the smart one, the cute one and now she gets to be a superhero on top of it. Meanwhile I’m just fat old Becky her best friend. Her babysitter. What a drag.”
“But you’re getting married. Isn’t that good?”
“Oh, yeah. Steve’s great. He’s a really super guy. If Emma ever wanted to stop being the Scarlet Knight he could probably do it. He’s pretty much the same way. Smart and sweet and a little naïve.” Becky leaned closer to stage whisper, “And a virgin too. They both are.” She broke into hysterical laughter at this.
“Why don’t I go get you another drink?”
“Great. I could use another one.” The moment Isis took Becky’s head off her shoulder, Becky collapsed onto the table and began to snore again.
Isis made her way to a table in the opposite corner, where a middle-aged woman sat alone and smoked a cigarette. Two goons reflexively came to stand behind her as Isis approached. “Who are you?” the woman said.
“My name is Isis.”
“I don’t do autographs.”
“I would like to see your master.”
“Who?”
“Ms. Vendetta. I want to see her. Now.”
The woman faced Isis for the first time. She blew a cloud of smoke into Isis’s face. “Get lost, bitch. Otherwise we’ll have to teach you some manners.”
“Tell the don I’m the one who freed her from jail.”
“You?”
“That’s right. Now, go deliver the message.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed, but she obeyed. Isis remained at the table and glanced back at where Becky dozed on her table. Everything had played out far better than Isis had hoped. She had sensed something about Emma Earl the first time they met at the museum. At the time she hadn’t been able to determine what it was she had felt, but now she understood. Emma Earl was the Scarlet Knight, the only one with the power to stop her.
“Not for much longer,” she whispered to herself.
The woman returned. “The don will see you now.” She led Isis around to a side door, which led to a private room. This looked more or less like a typical office, with desks and chairs and computers. Lydia Vendetta sat behind one desk, her fingers tented in front of her.
“So, you’re my benefactor?”
“Yes.”
“I assume you can prove this?”
Isis reached into her pocket. The goons in the room reached into theirs to pull out vicious-looking handguns. The don put up a hand to stop them. From her pocket Isis produced a tiny gold key. “The key to the police evidence locker.”
“That could be the key to your diary for all I know.”
“What kind of proof do you require?”
“Start by telling me how you got in there without anyone seeing you.”
“I’ll do better than tell you. I’ll show you.” And then Isis disappeared. At least in the minds of the don and her henchmen Isis disappeared. It was a simple trick to scramble the visual centers of their brains so they didn’t process the image of her in the room. For all practical purposes she vanished.
With a wave of her hand she reappeared—and took a step back to sag against the wall. She put a hand to her head. That trick in the police station had already taken a lot out of her. She would need to feed again soon, to build up her strength. It had been far too long since she had used her power.
“That’s a nice trick. You should be on the stage,” the don said.
“Perhaps. Now do you believe me?”
“I’m starting to. Tell me how you destroyed those computers.”
“A conventional fireball. Any novice can do it.” It wasn’t quite that simple, but it wasn’t difficult. At least it hadn’t been difficult when she was at full strength. In her weakened condition she had needed to focus a full twenty seconds to conjure the fire.
“I suppose I shouldn’t ask you to conjure fire in here.” The don laughed at her own joke. “So, maybe you’re the one who saved me from the cops. I’d have walked anyway. What is it you want? Money? Drugs? A man? A woman?”
“More than that. I need your organization’s particular skills.”
“What skills would those be?”
“I need you to eliminate someone for me.”
The don smiled and nodded. “That I think I can help you with.”
Chapter 8
For a change it was Emma who heard Becky come in sometime during the night. She heard the sound of the front door creak open, followed by heavy footsteps. A lighter squeak indicated Becky had gone into her bedroom and a thud announced she had landed on the bed. Emma rolled out of her bed and crept into Becky’s room. Her friend lay sprawled on the mattress, still in her clothes. Emma rolled Becky onto her side and then pulled the blankets up to her chin. She backed out of the room and closed the door with a tiny click.
She returned to her own bed but didn’t get much sleep. The night’s events continued to bother her, especially when Becky agreed to go to the Plastic Hippo. Five years ago a coworker had taken Becky to the club. Becky had run away and become the target of a gang. Only Emma’s sudden appearance as the Scarlet Knight had kept her friend from being killed. Why would Becky choose to go back there?
On the way back to the trailer park in Parkdale, Bambi had voiced what they all thought. “You think she’s getting cold feet?”
“No, of course not,” Emma said. “She’s blowing off some steam.”
“I always thought she had a thing for women,” Brandi said. “Typical closet case.”
“That’s not true,” Emma said. “Becky loves Steve.”
“She loves you. That’s why she’s marrying someone like you, only with a penis.”
As she lay in bed, Emma started to worry not for herself but for Steve. If Becky’s intentions were less than truthful, eventually he would be the one to pay the price. From everything Emma had seen, Steve loved her madly. He had even taken a lesser job at the Plaine Museum to keep Becky happy.
These thoughts continued to spin round and round in her head until she finally fell asleep. The alarm went off what seemed like minutes later, though it was eight in the morning. Emma rolled out of bed and hurried over to Becky’s room.
“Becky, it’s time to get up,” she said. Becky grunted but didn’t wake up. Emma went over to the bed and gently shook her friend’s shoulder. This only prompted Becky to roll onto her side with a groan. Emma shook her again, this time far less gently.
“What do you want?”
“It’s time to get up. It’s your wedding day.”
“Oh shit.” Becky rolled back over and then sat up. She put a hand to her head and groaned. “What happened last night?”
“You had a little too much to drink.”
“Yeah. Fetch me some aspirin, will you?”
“I think I have something better,” Emma said. She returned to her bedroom and plucked a small vial off the nightstand. She gave this to Becky, who stared at it. “It’s one of Mrs. Chiostro’s potions. I picked it up last night along with the dresses.”
Becky stared at the bottle for a moment. “Bombs away,” she said as she gulped down the vial’s contents. Emma took a step back and waited to see what happened. Becky shook her head and then smiled. “I think that did the trick. Did you notice anything weird?”
“No, you look exactly the same.”
“Good. Thank her for me, will you?”
“I will.” Emma motioned to the corner, where Becky’s wedding dress hung in the closet. “We’d better start getting you ready.”
“Sure. Can I take a shower first? I don’t want to smell like a bottle of gin.”
Emma laid out the dress while Becky took
a shower. After she took it out of the bag, Emma couldn’t resist the urge to hold the dress up to her body. It was too big, but that didn’t matter; she could still imagine what she’d look like in the lacy white gown. She would stand at the altar with Dan next to her and take his hand—
Becky cleared her throat. Emma’s cheeks burned with embarrassment; she set the dress on the bed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. You’ll find someone eventually.”
“I already did. And I let him go.”
“Look, kid—”
“I’d better get a shower too.” She stayed in the shower for a long time and let the warm water run down her back. She knew she shouldn’t think of Dan on Becky’s big day, but when she saw the dress, she couldn’t help but think of what might have been. If only she hadn’t sent him away. If only she hadn’t heard the Call and found the red armor, she and Dan could have a normal life. Instead he had a normal life with someone else.
She trudged back to her bedroom to get into her lavender bridesmaid dress. As she put it on, she told herself to be happy for Becky today; now wasn’t the time to mope over her own mistakes. It was Becky’s day, a day she had dreamed of since they were little kids in Parkdale. Emma didn’t want to ruin it by being selfish.
When she returned to Becky’s room, her friend stood at the mirror and held the dress up to her body. “This is really it,” she said. “I’m getting married.”
“Are you having any second thoughts?”
“No. I love Steve.”
“And he loves you.”
“He does, doesn’t he? I can’t imagine why.” She put a hand to her stomach. “I’m not exactly anyone’s dream girl.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“On the inside, right?”
“Yes. And on the outside.” Emma put a hand on Becky’s shoulder. “They say ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder.’ Well, Steve thinks you’re beautiful. Isn’t that all that counts?”