The furniture still had the plastic wrap on it from the move. Becky didn’t bother to take any of this off; she trudged upstairs to the master bedroom. She lay down on the bed where she and Steve would have finally consummated their marriage, where they would have conceived their family. All she could do now was bury her face into the pillow and scream.
Eventually she fell asleep. During the night she thought she heard footsteps. She sat up and saw Isis beside the bed. The younger woman smiled down at her and said, “It’s all right, Becky. I’m here to help you.”
“If you want to do anything, I’m not into that.”
“No, I don’t mean that, Becky.” Isis bent down and put a hand to Becky’s cheek. “Just relax. Sleep.”
“Sleep,” Becky mumbled. She tried to stay awake, but couldn’t. Her eyes closed and her mind drifted into the darkness—
“That’s good,” Isis whispered. “Now, get up. You have work to do.”
Becky rolled out of bed and got to her feet. Isis took her arm to guide her to the foot of the bed. A black case lay there; its surface looked like neither metal nor crystal exactly. “Open it, Becky. Take what’s inside.”
The surface of the case became studded with silver demonic faces as Becky touched this. Inside she found a set of black armor much too narrow to fit her. She hesitated a moment, until Isis put a hand on her shoulder and said, “It’ll fit. Don’t worry.”
The armor didn’t expand to fit her. Instead, her body shrank to fit inside of it; the fat she couldn’t rid herself of in decades melted away in seconds. Without a word, Becky began to don the rest of the armor. The helmet came last. Once she put this over her head, she felt her consciousness become smaller, pushed aside by new thoughts and a boundless reservoir of rage.
The Black Dragoon turned to Isis. “Master, you have returned.”
“That’s right, my faithful servant. It’s time for you to undertake your true purpose again. Start with the one who wronged your host. You’ll find him above a club on 56th Street.”
The Dragoon nodded and then jumped out the window. As he ran through the historical district, he kept to the shadows to remain unseen. This became easier as he crossed into the more commercial areas of the city with their mazes of alleys. He knew instinctively where the club was and whom the master wanted him to kill.
With his claws he climbed up the side of the building; he ignored the sounds of the wretched drunks below. The temptation to slaughter them was strong, but the master had given him a task and he would complete it. He paused at a window for a moment to listen. The sound of a television came from the back of the storeroom. As he started towards the blue glow of the television, his claws grew from an inch to a foot each.
So focused on the television, he didn’t notice a shape move among the shadows to his left until he heard the bang of a gun. The Dragoon grunted in surprise, but the bullet pinged harmlessly off the black armor to deflect into the ceiling. Whoever had fired the weapon would pay dearly for that mistake.
As he spun around, his vision turned red. The dark storeroom became as bright as in daylight. In that light he saw not the assassin who had killed the host’s husband but a middle-aged woman. The woman held a vicious-looking pistol. She fired another shot from it, but this too bounced off the black armor. “What the fuck are you?” the woman shouted.
“I am here for Roberto Moreno. Where is he?”
“What do you want with my brother?”
“Your brother?”
“That’s right. I don’t know who you think you are, but when the don finds out—”
The Dragoon lunged forward. He sunk the claw on his left index finger into the woman’s shoulder. The woman screamed in pain. “Tell me where he is. Now.”
The woman turned towards the back of the storeroom. “Roberto, run! Get out of here!”
With his claw still in the woman’s shoulder, the Dragoon spun around. He saw a man burst out of the back of the storeroom and headed for a window and fire escape. He held out his right hand and launched all five claws. Four of these missed cleanly, but the one from his thumb clipped Roberto Moreno’s leg. He collapsed in a heap on the ground.
The Dragoon released the woman; bigger game was at hand. Roberto Moreno pulled the claw from his leg, which left a bloody hole in his calf. Then he began to crawl towards the window like the snake he was. The Dragoon wanted to watch him squirm for a while, but the master would have far more important work to do.
He stomped forward and seized Moreno by the back of his shirt to hurl him into a sitting position. “What do you want?” he said. “Whatever it is, I can get it for you: money, drugs, guns, whatever you want.”
“There’s only one thing I want. I want you to think of the man you shot at St. Michael’s. Picture his face clearly in your mind. Do you see it?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Then the Dragoon kicked him in the face. The spike of his boot struck right between Moreno’s eyes. Moreno’s body flailed around like a caught fish for a few moments and then it went still. The Dragoon pulled back his foot to stare down at the corpse. The master would be pleased.
On cue, the master’s voice said, “Take his heart. Bring it to me.”
The Dragoon extended a claw. He used this like a scalpel to slice open Roberto Moreno’s chest. His heart had already stopped beating, but the Dragoon cut it from his chest anyway. “Now, take the woman’s heart as well.”
The Black Dragoon turned around and stomped over to where Moreno’s sister still writhed in pain on the floor. The woman looked up with fear in her eyes. “What are you going to do to me?” she asked.
“You will share the same fate as your brother,” the Dragoon said. Then he plunged the claw into the woman’s chest.
Chapter 12
Marlin had started to appreciate being a ghost. Wandering the astral plane had left him with tired legs, a dry throat, and an empty stomach. Then there was the need to expunge that awful rabbit from his system. He had forgotten how awful that could be. It was worse still without modern conveniences like indoor plumbing and toilet paper.
He stopped at the top of a hill to rest. Why did the astral plane have hills? As an alternate dimension it shouldn’t have any topography at all. He already knew what his master would say, that Marlin had created the hills in his mind and projected them onto the astral plane. Everything from the hills to the trees to that Belt fellow was a figment of his imagination.
No, not his imagination. His master’s imagination. He was the one who really projected his memory onto the astral plane. Marlin was along for the ride. And that meant he had to play by the rules his master made.
With a weary sigh he got to his feet to continue. Time was an even slipperier subject in the astral plane. What might seem like years here might only be seconds back in the real world. Or what might seem like seconds here might be years there. By the time he emerged from this place—if he ever did—she might have already taken over the world. That was unless Emma could stop her. As much as Marlin had come to respect the latest Scarlet Knight, he doubted even she could last long against Isis at full strength. The only hope lay in Marlin’s mission; his master was the only one who could put a stop to it.
At the top of the hill, Marlin groaned. In the distance he saw not only more hills but also a mountain, its top obscured by clouds. This mountain had no place in even an imaginary projection of ancient Britain. Marlin knew his master would be at the top of that mountain, to hide from both the imaginary world and real one.
There was nothing he could do except climb the damned mountain. That would be more difficult because he didn’t have any sort of climbing gear, not to mention a robe and sandals wouldn’t do much against the cold he would surely face up there. Why couldn’t the master have done like most retired people and gone to a nice, warm beach?
Marlin started down the hill, into a lush green valley. The only inhabitants of this valley were a flock of sheep. One of these bleated at Marlin as he closed in. �
�I have no intention of eating any of you,” Marlin said. After that rabbit he didn’t plan to eat anything ever again.
Despite this, the sheep didn’t seem convinced; they backed away from him as he started across the meadow. He supposed the animals probably hadn’t seen another creature in centuries. Or at least he assumed he was the only one who’d come here to see the master.
At the edge of the meadow, he saw he wasn’t the only one in this part of the land. In the grass he found a shepherd’s crook; not a smooth, curved staff like in the storybooks but a rough-hewn stick, more like a club. This crook was stained with blood, probably from the last trespasser to come through here. Marlin looked around to find the crook’s owner. Something heavy crashed against the back of his head. Marlin pitched forward into the grass.
***
He opened his eyes and assumed he must still be dreaming. A woman’s face looked down at him, her blond hair in dirty tangles and cheeks smudged with grime. She wore only a sheep’s pelt, leaves and branches caught in the rough wool. “Beaux?” he said.
“About time you woke up.” She poked him in the stomach. “You’ve certainly been eating well since I last saw you.”
“Not exactly.”
“I had a feeling you’d turn up here eventually.”
“Yes, well, it wasn’t my first choice.” Marlin sat up on the grass. Of course Beaux wouldn’t have a bed, or even a straw pallet like Belt. She lived like one of her flock. “How did you get here?”
“I asked Greetha to perform the ritual when I died.”
“I see. How long ago was that?”
“About ten years after you left.”
“I didn’t leave. I died.”
“That’s a convenient excuse.”
“They chopped my bloody head off, woman! What did you want me to do?”
“That master of yours could have brought you back.”
“He could, if he wanted to. You know his feelings about that.”
“I suppose I wasn’t important enough for him to bring you back. I was only your mate after all.” There was no ring to mark their engagement, only a tuft of gray hair on a string around Beaux’s neck. This hair belonged to Marlin; because hair could be used in witchcraft it was considered a symbol of commitment to give something of such power to a mate. “Tell me, did you even ask him to bring you back?”
Marlin gulped; when it came to Beaux he wasn’t any better than Emma Earl at fibbing. “There wasn’t any point in asking him. I knew what he would say. And he said he had big plans for me.”
“Such grand plans as his slave.”
“I am not a slave. You’re looking at the Keeper of the Lore for the Order of the Scarlet Knight. I’m the one who trains them, nurtures them.”
“Nurture? You? You couldn’t be bothered to watch the flock for one night. I came back the next morning and you’d let them all run off. Where was your magic then?”
“You don’t use magic to find a bunch of stupid animals.”
“You don’t because you never could do any kind of magic. That’s why the best you could do is be his assistant.”
“Back to that again? I’d say it’s a damned sight more important than keeping a bunch of sheep from getting eaten by wolves.”
“You’d rather I sit at home in the hut all day, sewing your robes and nursing your disgusting sons?”
“I wouldn’t want any sons from you.” It amazed Marlin how after thousands of years they could so quickly launch back into the same old arguments. “I should never have courted you. I knew you were nothing but trouble.”
“Courted? You hit me over the head with a stick and took me to that filthy lair of yours.”
“You didn’t think it was such a filthy lair when you were taking off that pelt of yours—” Marlin discovered a pleasure he had missed in thousands of years as Beaux kissed him on the lips. She didn’t stop there; she yanked the hat off his head and then yanked his robe off too. Her garment was more difficult to remove, Marlin’s fingers unaccustomed to working the knots that kept the pelt tied around Beaux. She snorted at his feeble efforts before she untied the knots herself.
“Same old Marlin,” she said in a seductive whisper. As Beaux pushed him to the ground, he decided there were some advantages to this place.
***
“Same old Marlin,” Beaux said again, this time not as a compliment. This came two minutes later, after Marlin learned the true potency of his imagination in this place.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been almost four thousand years.”
“And you’re already in top form.” Beaux rolled over on the grass to fetch her pelt. “I don’t know why I thought anything might have changed. Mum said I should have married Kildar the healer—”
“That fraud? He couldn’t heal a splinter let alone anything serious.”
“Maybe, but at least he had his own hut—”
“It was my hut. Mother lived with me.”
“Right. He had his own herd of cattle too.”
It was Marlin’s turn to snort derisively. “He got those from Antch’s dowry. You remember what happened to her?”
“She died of a snake bite.”
“Which your boyfriend couldn’t cure.”
“He was asleep when it happened. There wasn’t time.”
“Oh, sure. He probably let the snake in. If you’d married him you’d have died on your wedding night.”
“That’d be better than waiting for you.”
“Why did you then? Why didn’t you marry Kildar after I died?”
Beaux looked away from Marlin as she said, “I don’t know. I guess I thought you would come back and take me away from all this.”
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t possible. I wish it were.”
She rolled over, her eyes bright with tears. “Why did you come back now?”
“I’m looking for him. There’s a terrible evil being unleashed upon the world and he has to stop it.”
“I should have known you wouldn’t have come back for me.”
“Why would I? I didn’t even know you were here.”
“So you assumed I wouldn’t wait for you?”
“I assumed you’d find someone else and go on with your life.” Marlin looked down at the grass. “The way we always argued, I thought you didn’t really care that much.”
“I wish I didn’t.”
They said nothing for a few moments until Marlin said, “I should probably go. I have to go up that mountain. That’s where he’ll be.”
“Can I go with you?”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t want to leave you again. Maybe he can send me back with you. We can be together forever.”
“As what: ghosts? Don’t be ridiculous.” Marlin took Beaux’s hand and then squeezed it. “That’s no kind of life for you, love. You’ll be a lot happier here, trust me. You’ve got your sheep and your club.”
“I should have known. You don’t want me to go with you. I’m just your whore.”
“You’re not a whore.” He cleared his throat; he’d never been good at romantic speeches. “It’s lonely being a ghost. Only a few people can see you, no one can touch you—”
“But we’ll have each other.”
“To do what? Talk?”
“That’s about all we did before.”
“I’m being serious. I don’t want that for you.”
“Then stay here. Let him go back alone.”
“I can’t do that. She needs me.”
“She? She who?”
“The Scarlet Knight. She’s just a young girl, a lot like you.”
“Don’t try flattering me, you worm.” To emphasize this, Beaux picked up her crook and leveled the chipped, bloodstained wood at him. “That’s why you don’t want me around, so you can ogle this girl.”
“No! It’s not like that. She’s more like a daughter, or maybe a niece. A cousin at least.”
“Like your cousin Maxne?”
“You would bring
that up. We were ten summers old when that happened.”
“She was thirteen.”
“She was twenty stones too. She practically broke my arm.”
“What about this girl? Is she twenty stones?”
“Of course not.”
“That’s what I thought. You follow her around like a ram in heat I bet.”
“Damn it, woman, I am not in love with her!” To prove this, Marlin made love to Beaux a second time; he lasted twice as long. When he finished, he smiled at her triumphantly. “Are you convinced yet?”
“Then why don’t you want me to go with you?”
“I told you, it’s a lonely life. It’s not something for a girl like you.”
“What kind of girl would that be?”
He gestured to the sheep who milled about in the pasture. “To a shepherdess. You’d go mad in the city. There aren’t any pastures—or sheep either. What would you do?”
“I see, you’re saying I’m not smart enough to be a Keeper of the Lore like you.”
“You can’t even read!”
“I could learn.”
“I tried to teach you once. You hit me with that stick and then smashed the tablet to bits.”
“I could do something else.”
“Be reasonable, love. You’d hate it there and in time you’d hate me too.”
Beaux said nothing for a moment and then sighed. “Maybe you’re right.” She touched his robe that lay in the grass. “You can’t climb a mountain like that.”
“I don’t suppose you know where there’s a goat I could ride up?”
“No, but I know someone who can help.” Beaux got to her feet and then began to tie the laces to keep her pelt in place. “Get dressed.”
“What about your sheep?”
“They’ll be fine. There hasn’t been a wolf here in ages.” She tapped him on the rear with the crook to spur him on.
“Just like old times,” he muttered.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 66
