“Thank you. I am glad to be myself again.” She bent down to pat the rat on the head like a faithful dog. “Becky’s fine too. And so is Dan. Thanks to you.”
If it were possible, she imagined the rat would blush. Instead, he nuzzled her boot. “I need to talk to Jim,” she said. “I know he doesn’t want to talk to me, but I need to explain things to him.”
Pepe considered this for a moment. The rat faced the moral dilemma of whether to betray his best friend’s wishes or alienate his other friend. Nine months ago Emma would not have thought such a thing possible. The rat came to his decision; he turned to his brothers and sisters to tell them to allow Emma safe passage. In ratspeak he referred to her as a queen, with Jim as the king. She wondered if Pepe had devised this title or if it came from Jim, who perhaps believed them to be a couple. That would certainly explain his anguish over her disappearance.
She considered this as she followed Pepe to the Sewer Rat’s lair in an old pipe that had been shut down by the water department. He had fashioned furniture for himself out of old boxes, crates, newspapers, and anything else he could find. At the moment, he sat on a stool made of old milk crates while he worked on another of his sculptures. From what Emma could tell, it wasn’t of her.
“What’s that you’re working on?” she asked.
The Sewer Rat turned around; his beady eyes glared at her from behind his tangled hair. “You! No welcome.”
Emma put her hands up in supplication. “I know and I understand. I’m very sorry for what happened. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Some very strange things happened that were out of my control. It was all an accident.”
She started to explain how she’d switched bodies with Becky, but Jim held up a hand. “You left. You not say goodbye.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Things happened so quickly. I didn’t have a chance. I wanted to, I really did.”
“You come back different.”
“I did. But it wasn’t really me. It was my friend Becky. There was an accident and we switched bodies—”
It was hard to read the Sewer Rat’s expressions with his wild hair and dirt-stained face. Still, Emma could tell he didn’t believe her. She couldn’t blame him for his skepticism; she had gone through it and she found it hard to believe. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. I was my friend Becky and she was me. That’s why she didn’t know how to speak to Pepe or the others.”
Pepe came forward to intercede on her behalf. He told Jim that this was the real Emma, not the impostor. The Sewer Rat snapped back that he would decide this for himself. “Why you carry that?” he asked. He pointed to the aerosol can in her pocket. “Why you have weapon?”
“I didn’t know how you were going to greet me.”
“Real you not need that.”
Emma nodded. She took the can from her pocket and then tossed it to Jim. He caught it as if it were a live grenade and then set it on his makeshift desk. Now that he had moved back, Emma could see that the figure he had been at work on was much wider than the sculpture of her. He had used discarded loops of videotape to fashion dark hair for it as well. “That’s Becky,” she said. “That’s my friend.”
“Yes.”
“You’re making a sculpture of her?” Emma couldn’t help but feel a sting of jealousy, even though she knew it was silly to feel that way.
“Pepe said her friend of us,” he said, using Pepe’s unpronounceable rat name. “He said her like you used to be.”
“That’s because she was me.”
The Sewer Rat stood up from his desk. Emma braced herself as he came towards her. Jim wasn’t very big, but he had the wiry strength of one of his friends. Still, with a few well-timed moves she could take him down. The problem then would be to escape without being devoured by Pepe and the tens of thousands of other rats who called the sewers home.
Jim stood inches away from her; his pungent odor dampened the rest of the smells in the sewer. She closed her eyes as he leaned in to smell her as Pepe had earlier. His nose wasn’t quite as sharp, but it was still keener than the average human’s. She felt the pointed tip of his nose touch her neck and then bury itself in her hair. She began to wonder if he wanted to determine her identity or if he had something else in mind.
His nose finally pulled away from her. She opened her eyes to find him looking into those eyes. “You her,” he said at last. “You real Emma.”
“Yes, I am.” She put a hand on the fur coat that covered Jim’s arm and tried not to think about what it was made from. “I’m sorry for what happened. I’ve really appreciated our friendship these last few months. It’s meant so much to me during these difficult times.” Her eyes began to tear up and not from the smell. “Can you forgive me?”
He stared at her for a long time. Finally, he said, “I forgive.” Unconcerned about the smell or filth that would get on her clothes, she hugged him. His nose buried itself in her hair again. She supposed this time he definitely wasn’t trying to determine her identity. “I hate to ask, but I need a favor.” She told him about her meeting at the reservoir.
“It fine. You go. But be careful.”
“I will.” Before she left, she motioned to the sculpture. “What are you going to do with that now?”
“I keep. Make new one for you.”
“Thank you,” she said. To her surprise she found herself genuinely happy about this. Never in her childhood dreams had she ever imagined she would become the object of affection for the Sewer Rat. She had always thought she would end up with someone like Dan. “I have to get going. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Yes. Tonight. I go with you.”
“Sure. It’s a date.” She winked at him before she walked away and hoped she hadn’t led him on too much. After all, there was no way they could ever have a relationship, not unless she moved to the sewers or he renounced his hatred of humanity to return to the surface. Neither of these outcomes seemed very likely. With a sigh, she started back up the ladder to the real world.
***
When Emma returned to Ms. Chiostro’s house, the witch still had not woken up. Akako remained by her side; she held Ms. Chiostro’s hand and occasionally wiped the witch’s forehead with a washcloth. Sylvia had returned with her truck, but she steadfastly refused to go back upstairs; she preferred instead to sit in the basement.
Emma didn’t want to go down there, not after what had happened there a little more than twelve hours earlier. Still, with Ms. Chiostro out of commission she didn’t have much of a choice. She sucked in a deep breath before she descended the stairs.
The basement looked as if nothing had happened. Sylvia’s weapons still hung on the walls and in her vault. Her barber chair remained to one side, her styling tools on a tray beside it. The cauldron, the blood, the skull, and the wolf pelt had all vanished. “Don’t look so surprised,” Sylvia snapped. “I’m a witch too.”
“I know you are.”
“I wasn’t as good at all that domestic stuff. Not like Agnes and Sophie. I was the offensive magic expert. Fat lot of good that did against that Greesha bitch.”
“But you’re a good witch too. You’ve helped me a lot. Not to mention the people of Grakistan and a lot of others.”
“Anyone can cut hair and sell guns.”
Sylvia dropped onto her barber’s chair with a tired sigh. Emma wasn’t sure exactly what she could say to make the witch feel better, not with her sister upstairs in a coma and possibly dying. “You do more than that. You fixed my visor so the Black Dragoon’s eyes couldn’t hurt me. You fought those demons in Robinson Park with me. And you fought against Isis.”
“Big deal.” She held up her metal hand. “This never would have happened to Agnes.”
“She almost died too. Not even she could beat Isis.”
“You’re the only one who could.”
“I didn’t really beat her. She beat herself.” Emma took a stool out of Sylvia’s vault so she could sit next to the witch. “What’s really bothering you?”
&
nbsp; “You mean other than my sister is in a coma?”
“Why aren’t you up there with her? I’m sure she’ll want to see you when she wakes up.”
“She’ll want to see that thing when she wakes up.”
“You mean Akako?”
“Who else would I mean? That little snot took her into the vault and then let her bond with that fucking monster and she’s madly in love with him—or her, or whatever the hell it is.”
Now Emma could see the problem; Sylvia was jealous of her younger rival. If Ms. Chiostro woke up and began to spend more time with Akako, then Sylvia would be alone, with no one to love her. It was similar to why Jim had been so angry with her for what had happened. “Well, maybe you can turn this into an advantage. Maybe it’s time to shake up your life a little bit. You could make yourself young too. You could find some new friends.”
“You mean I should go prancing around like some floozy?”
“Not if you don’t want to. There are plenty of young people who aren’t floozies—like me. We could go out some time, if you want.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t need a pity date.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“I know you are.” Sylvia smiled at her. “You’re always trying to help. That’s why you’re the Scarlet Knight.”
“I guess it is.”
Sylvia heaved herself out of the chair. “In this case you’re probably right. I’ve felt old for so long. I just got thinking that’s how it’d always be.” She shook her head. “Maybe it’s time to try being young again.” Sylvia muttered a few words and an instant later an entirely different woman stood before Emma. Emma had seen this woman before when they had fought demons in Robinson Park in an alternate timeline. She had the same long, wavy dark red hair, but now her skin wasn’t dotted with pimples, so that she looked the same age as Emma. If anything, they could pass as sisters. “What do you think?”
“You’re beautiful.”
“You’re not just saying that to be nice, are you?”
Before Emma could answer, Becky stuck her head into the basement. “Are you two—hey, who’s that?”
“It’s Sylvia.”
“That’s a hell of a makeover,” Becky said.
The only thing that hadn’t changed was the metal claw on Sylvia’s left arm. Isis’s magic had permanently snuffed out that hand.
“I’m glad I’ve got you both here,” Emma said. “There’s something I need from both of you, but you aren’t going to like it—especially you, Becky.”
Becky came down the stairs cautiously; she looked, as Emma had, for any sign of the evil cauldron or the rest of the items from the ritual. She even more cautiously approached Emma and the new, younger Sylvia. But she did notice the same thing Emma did. “You two look like sisters. I think Emma would be the big sister.”
“Gee, thanks,” Emma said.
“That’s what all those late hours do to you.”
Emma shook her head and then got to the point. As expected, Becky didn’t like it. Eventually, though, she realized, as Emma did, that it was the only way. “All right, let’s do it.” Becky wagged a finger at Emma. “But this is the last time, you got that?”
“I know.”
Sylvia rubbed her good hand against her claw. “Let’s make some magic,” she said with a grin that struck Emma as a little too happy.
A few minutes later it was all over.
Chapter 31
They parted ways at Ms. Chiostro’s house, with Becky in Sylvia’s truck to go to the reservoir. The formerly old witch would go along as backup; she took along a cache of weapons that would make Rambo blush. The sight of pretty young Sylvia armed with a .50-caliber machine gun looked more comical than deadly to Emma; she imagined the recoil would throw the witch a good twenty feet. Still, if things went wrong with the Russians, that much firepower might be necessary.
Emma was relieved in a way when she said the magic words and the case of red armor appeared in her bedroom. The angelic faces showed up this time and the case yawned open without any difficulty. She reached inside to pull out the armor and began to put it on for the first time in what seemed like forever.
She wondered if Becky could still put on the scarlet armor or if their body switch had somehow overridden the Call she had heard while in Emma’s body. That was something she thought best not to find out; she didn’t want to deal with any more of the armor’s eccentricities at the moment. With a deep breath she finally seated the helmet on her head to at last become the Scarlet Knight again.
She didn’t use the rooftops; instead she opened the nearest manhole cover to drop into the sewers. She wasn’t alone for long before Pepe showed up. The striped rat indicated Jim would be at the spot they had determined previously. She let him climb up the armor to rest on her shoulder as she continued along the sewer pipes.
Someone else joined her in the pipe as well. “So it’s you again?” Marlin asked.
“Yes. You missed all the excitement.”
“I didn’t miss it, believe me. Old Greesha is a nasty piece of work. Did I tell you about the time her sister killed me in the afterlife? Two of a kind they are.”
“I guess so,” Emma said. She shivered at the thought if both of those nasty witches got together sometime. “Have you seen any sign of Koschei?”
“No. The bugger’s lying low, that’s for sure.”
“Great. Just keep your eyes peeled in case he does show up.”
“What exactly is it you’re trying to do?” Marlin asked. She told him. “And I thought the other one’s plans were asinine.”
“Becky did all right considering she didn’t have time for training or anything.”
“Yes, well, she certainly put the fear of God into our friend the don.”
Emma stopped to look up at the ghost. “What did she do?” He told her about Becky’s raid on the Plastic Hippo, where she had shot almost two-dozen of the don’s henchmen. Emma shook her head. “Now that place will be impossible to get into without an army.”
Marlin went on to tell her about the trap Koschei had set for Becky in the alley; he’d killed a woman to use her for bait. “Other than that she did a bang-up job.”
“Well, what did you expect? This wasn’t supposed to be her job.”
“You’re finally understanding that, are you?”
Emma realized he meant her ill-fated trip to Russia, when she had tried to disavow her duties as the Scarlet Knight. “I guess so. I’m the one who has to do it and take the responsibility for what happens.”
“Yes, God forbid we lose you again too soon. Who knows what sort of person we’ll end up with,” Marlin said.
Emma knew this was as close to a compliment as she would get. “Thanks. You should get up there and see if you can find Koschei. If not, take a look around the reservoir and see if Bykov’s trying to double-cross us.”
“At your service, madam,” Marlin grumbled before he disappeared.
As Pepe had indicated, Jim met them at a junction with about a hundred of his oldest, toughest friends. These would be more insurance in case things with the Russians went wrong. To show their “queen” deference, the rats moved aside as she came along the pipe. “You late,” Jim said.
“Sorry. I ran into a friend.”
“We hurry.”
“Lead the way.” Emma had learned most of the sewer pipes that ran through Rampart City, but to reach the reservoir they would have to leave the actual sewers to use the aqueduct pipes that drained water from the reservoir to the rest of the city. Those pipes would be filled with water if the reservoir was in use, but they were lucky that at the moment the city hadn’t tapped into that supply of water. Should someone decide to throw the switch to drain water into the pipes, Emma, Jim, and all of his friends would drown.
There wasn’t much discussion along the way. Jim did reach into his pocket to take out a miniature version of one of his sculptures. The toilet paper roll chest and Popsicle stick limbs were colored re
d; Emma detected the scent of nail polish. The doll’s ball of newspaper head had a shock of orange hair that dangled from it about the same color as Emma’s. She thought better than to ask from where he had gotten it. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “Is it for me?”
“Yes. You keep. Remember your friends.”
“I will.” Beneath the helmet her cheeks turned red as she realized a slight problem. “Can you hold on to it until we’re done? I don’t have any pockets on this.”
Jim did better than that; he handed the doll to one of his soldiers. “He take to you nest. Leave there.”
“That’ll work too.” Beneath the helmet she smiled. The moment was short-lived as she opened the hatch to lead them into the water pipes. She stood in the pipe for a moment, to listen for the roar of water to indicate someone had decided to drain the reservoir. There was nothing except the sounds of the rats behind her.
“OK, let’s go,” she said.
***
Along the way to the reservoir, Becky sneaked peeks at Sylvia and then at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to Emma’s plan; her plan to capture Koschei in the Aquatix plant had been better than this. A lot less complicated at any rate. She supposed needlessly complicated plans like this were why Emma was the genius.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sylvia said. Her voice sounded a lot less harsh now. “Everything’s going to work out fine. You do your part and then run for cover. If you get into trouble, I’ll come in there after you.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Becky said.
Sylvia took her good hand off the wheel to toss a tress of dark red hair over her shoulder. “You think because I’m good-looking I can’t be tough too?”
“No, of course not.”
“I was killing demons and vampires in this body when your great-great-great-great-great-grandma wasn’t even a twinkle in anyone’s eye.”
This sounded ludicrous to Becky, but then her entire life for the last week had been ludicrous. “Sorry. It’s just I’d prefer not to have to dodge bullets if you know what I mean.”
“Those Russians won’t have the nerve to try crossing us again. You gave them a good taste of what will happen the last time, right?”
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis Page 28
