Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis

by P. T. Dilloway

  “Reasonably sure.”

  “Reasonably?”

  “I couldn’t bloody well ask her, could I?”

  “Good point.”

  Emma continued to trail behind the cab; she stayed with it even as others like it joined the traffic. As Marlin had said, the cab turned into Robinson Park. Emma waited by the curb for a minute before she pulled her bike up the path in pursuit. To her surprise, the taxi stopped and Sylvia got out. Emma waited by the decorative bridge; she watched through her binoculars as Sylvia staggered over to a bench. The bum asleep there woke up with a start.

  Emma steeled herself to rush in to help her friend, but the bum took one look at Sylvia and then scampered away. A spell, perhaps? There was no way for Emma to be sure, at least not without asking. She felt tempted, but decided it would be better to wait and see if anyone came to meet with Sylvia.

  No one did. The witch merely sat on the bench all night and stared into space. Emma spent her night camped underneath the bridge to watch through the binoculars. She waited for someone to show up or for the hoboes and criminals to make a move, but none ever did.

  “What’s the old bat doing over there?” Marlin asked.

  Emma turned up the magnification on the binoculars. She saw Sylvia’s shoulders quiver slightly. “I think she’s crying,” Emma said.

  “Wonderful place for her to come for a good cry.”

  Emma couldn’t help but agree with the ghost, despite his cynicism. There were a number of places Sylvia could go if she wanted to be alone, her shop and the apartment she shared with Tim Cooper for starters. Not to mention as a witch she could vanish herself almost anywhere in the world. It would be easy enough for her to transport herself to Antarctica or Siberia if she really wanted to be alone. Both of those were safer than a bench in Robinson Park at night.

  After hours of watching Sylvia sit and cry, Emma checked her watch. It was nearly four in the morning. She looked up at Marlin. “Do you think you can watch her? I should go home and try to get a little sleep.”

  “Sure, leave me with the real work.”

  “All you have to do is float here and see if anyone shows up for her.”

  “More than you’re doing.”

  “Please?”

  “Fine,” he said. Under his breath he added, “Wimp.”

  “I heard that.” Emma stood up and winced from the stiffness in her joints. The armor was surprisingly light and comfortable, but not to squat in the same place for three hours. “Let me know when she leaves.”

  “Have a good night’s sleep,” the ghost said with a sneer.

  ***

  The instant Emma’s head touched the pillow, she found herself in a child’s sandbox. Though she didn’t recognize the sandbox or the two-storied house nearby, she did recognize the little girl on the edge of the sandbox in a green nightgown. The girl looked exactly as Emma had when she was little. Except the little girl’s voice sounded a lot more mature than Emma’s at that age as she said, “I’m not you. My name’s Joanna. But everyone calls me Red because of my hair.”

  “Red? So you’re another one of those, like Akako?”

  “Not exactly, but close.”

  “And where are we?”

  “My sandbox,” Joanna said. She rolled her eyes as if this were the dumbest question in the world. “I brought you here because Akako has vanished. She and Aggie both.”

  “Vanished? How?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. All of us are looking for them, but we can’t find her. She’s completely disappeared.”

  “Oh no,” Emma said. “What can I do to help?”

  “Ask around. Maybe someone in Aggie’s coven knows where they could have gone.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Thank you.” The little girl smiled slightly. “I have to go back inside before Mommy finds out and gives me a spanking.”

  “Wait—” it was too late; Emma began to drop through the sand, until there was nothing but darkness.

  Her eyes snapped open and searched the bedroom for a moment before she saw Marlin over the bed. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “The old bat just left the park. You told me to let you know.” The ghost sneered at her. “Have a nice little nap?”

  Emma looked over at the clock. She had slept for less than two hours, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now. “Can you go over to Aggie’s house? See if she’s still there with Jim.”

  She had just got down to the bottom of the stairs when Marlin returned. “She’s gone,” he said. “She left you a note saying she went to the archives. Probably to see her girlfriend.”

  Emma thought back to the conversation in her dream with little Joanna. “No, that’s not it. She went there because Akako’s in trouble.” Emma knew Ireland was too far from the armor for Marlin to go there and it would take her too long to fly there. That left one other option. “Find Sylvia again and tell her to meet me at Aggie’s house as soon as she can.”

  “Fine. Any other messages you need to send while I’m at it?”

  “Just go.”

  The ghost began to grumble under his breath again, but Emma didn’t pay it any mind. She had other things on her mind at the moment. Emma wondered if perhaps Sylvia already knew her sister had gone missing.

  ***

  In the parlor, Emma found the note Marlin had mentioned. It was in Aggie’s handwriting, though she must have been in a hurry as it wasn’t written in her usual calligraphy. The note only said she’d gone to the archives to see Akako. That could have meant just an ordinary trip, but given Emma’s dream and that Jim was still upstairs, Emma doubted this possibility. Aggie wouldn’t have left Jim alone for a make-out session with Akako; she was too old to be that irresponsible.

  She tucked the note into the pocket of her shorts and went upstairs to check on Jim. He was still fast asleep with Pepe curled up with him. The rat’s snout turned at her approach. She signaled for Pepe to follow her into the bathroom, where they could talk without her waking Jim.

  “Did you see Agnes leave?” she asked in ratspeak. Pepe stared at her uncertainly until she provided a description of what Aggie smelled like, and then the sewer rat said she had gone downstairs some time ago and not come back. Emma knew better than to ask how long ago; even an intelligent rat like Pepe couldn’t tell time.

  She went back to the bedroom to check on Jim. His wounds seemed completely healed now. He would be able to return to the sewers. She put a hand to her mouth as she thought about this. There was still a chance that whoever had tried to kill him might be down there. If he went back—

  She didn’t hear the front door open, but from the way Pepe’s head perked up, she knew the rat had sensed someone else in the house. She reached out to pat him on the head like a dog. “It’s all right,” she said. “It’s just Aggie’s sister. I asked her to come here.”

  Sylvia waited in the parlor, her eyes red from the crying she had done in the park. Marlin hovered over the witch’s shoulder with a smug grin. “Here she is. Just like you asked.”

  “Shut up,” Sylvia snarled. “What was he saying about Agnes?”

  “She’s disappeared.” Emma took the note from her pocket and handed it to Sylvia.

  The witch snorted and then tossed the note aside. “She just went to get a little action, that’s all. She’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “I don’t think so.” Emma briefly described her dream of Joanna.

  “What are you saying?”

  Emma rubbed her temple and wished she could have gotten some more sleep or at least a can of Red Bull. “From what she’s said, Akako exists in all these other parallel universes and that each version of her can sense the other. For the others not to be able to sense her, then she must have somehow gone off the grid.”

  “You mean she’s dead?”

  “I don’t know, but probably not. If she were dead they probably could have sensed it.”

  “So what are you saying? That she vanished into
thin air?”

  Emma studied Sylvia’s face as she said this. The witch’s cheek didn’t twitch this time, but her eyes did flick briefly to the side. “It’s a possibility.”

  Sylvia ran a hand through hair that had become tangled and greasy from the night spent in Robinson Park. She finally let out a tired sigh. “I told Agnes not to mess around with that creature. I knew it would only lead to trouble.” Her eyes didn’t flick away this time, but the hollowness in Sylvia’s voice indicated she had merely feigned irritation. “So what do we do?”

  “I think we should go to the archives to look for clues. I’ll get the armor and you can vanish us—”

  “No.”

  “What? We know Agnes went there. That’s where we should start our search.”

  “I’ll search there. No mortals are allowed in the archives.” Again Sylvia hadn’t lied, but her voice had the same hollow quality.

  “Isn’t there an exception for the Scarlet Knight?”

  “No,” Sylvia said too quickly. She must have realized this as she tried to cover it with a smile. “The others in the coven aren’t big fans of yours.” She looked up at Marlin and added, “Especially not your boss.”

  “They’re just jealous,” Marlin said.

  “It’s all right,” Emma said. “I’ll stay here with Jim and you can go. Maybe I’ll take a nap and see if I can talk to Joanna again.”

  “Good idea. I’ll let you know what I find.” Sylvia took a few steps back. Emma knew enough to cover her eyes before the witch disappeared in a flash of light. Then Emma sank onto a chair and looked up at the ceiling.

  Marlin hovered into sight. “So, naptime again?”

  “No. I just wanted her to think that.”

  “You’re more underhanded than I thought. Well done.”

  “Too much time hanging around you.” With a tired sigh, she pushed herself upright; she knew if she stayed seated much longer she really would fall asleep again. “I’m going to see what I can find out about this TriTech place. I need you to stay and look after Jim—”

  “I go with you,” Jim said from the top of the stairs. He was dressed in an old set of army fatigues taken from Sylvia’s closet, the pant legs and sleeves too long for his smaller frame.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Emma said. “You’re hurt—”

  “I fine now. She make me better. I help you find her.”

  Emma wanted to protest, but couldn’t. Aggie had saved Jim’s leg—possibly his life—and to return the favor he wanted to help Emma track Sylvia down. How could she deny him that? “All right,” she said. “But I think we’ll need to make a stop first.”

  ***

  Emma couldn’t help but feel self-conscious with Jim pressed against her back, his arms wrapped around her midsection. Since she drove as Dr. Emma Earl, she obeyed the traffic laws, though she wanted to break these when they came to a stoplight. A man in a cab next to her bike glanced over at her as he talked into his cell phone. Then he did a double take and stifled a laugh with the back of his hand.

  “He laugh at me,” Jim growled.

  “No he isn’t,” she lied. “He’s probably laughing at a joke someone told him over the phone.”

  Jim’s fingernails bit into the skin of her abdomen as sharply as Pepe’s claws. “He think I freak.”

  “No, of course not,” she lied again. What the man in the cab probably found so funny was that Jim was dressed in Sylvia’s oversized fatigues and wore Aggie’s pink-framed sunglasses. Though she hated to admit it, she probably would have thought it funny if she didn’t know Jim so well. “Just ignore him.”

  He turned his head to look over her shoulder, but this wasn’t any better as a pair of small children in the back of a minivan gaped at them and began to giggle openly. Jim’s grip tightened until Emma finally cried out in pain. “Sorry,” he said. “This mistake.”

  “No it’s not. You just need some time to adjust.” Ahead, Emma saw Marston’s department store, the oldest in the city. She deftly wove through three lanes of traffic to pull off into the parking garage next door. She drove down to the lowest level, where it was dark enough to make Jim comfortable.

  His grip finally eased to let her off the motorcycle. “Why we stop here?” he asked. Before she could answer, he snarled, “You think I freak too.”

  “Jim, you should know me better than that by now.” She put a hand on his shoulder, and used her other hand to take off his sunglasses. “I’m your friend. You know that.”

  “You friend,” he echoed.

  “This isn’t going to be easy, but if you really want to help me and Aggie, then we need to make you more presentable.”

  “What wrong with how I look?”

  “Nothing, really, but for where we need to go, we just need to make a few changes.” She smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back. “I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

  He considered this for a moment and then nodded. “I trust you.”

  “Good. Now, we just have to go into the store and get a few things.” She started towards the elevator with him a step behind. The moment the elevator’s metal door closed, Jim hissed like one of his rats.

  “We trapped,” he said. “You trick me!”

  She put her hand on his arm. “No, we’re not trapped. Not really. It’s just an elevator. Do you remember them?” Emma had not learned much about Jim Rizzard’s past, but she did know he had lived aboveground for over eight years, until something happened to drive him into the sewers.

  “Elevator,” he said slowly. “I remember. They go up and down.”

  “That’s right. It’s just taking us up a few floors so we can go to the store.”

  The elevator jerked to a stop; its doors parted to reveal the skywalk that connected the garage and department store. “See?” she said. “No trap.”

  Jim stepped off the elevator as if he’d drank a few beers on the way up. She waited for him to catch up; he stayed close to her side as they walked through the skywalk. Halfway through, she paused to point down to the street below them. “We’re up in the air now. Look, there’s the manhole cover for 42nd Street.”

  “Yes,” he said dreamily. He no doubt thought of his dark, comfortable home in the sewers—a home that had nearly been destroyed by the bomber. “Let’s go.”

  The skywalk led to the third floor of the department store, which unfortunately was the perfume department. The Sewer Rat’s hatred of odors besides those of rotten garbage had become part of the urban legend. Emma knew first-hand this wasn’t an exaggeration.

  A girl about her age came around the counter with a bottle of perfume, prepared to squirt it on them. Before the salesgirl could push down on the nozzle, Emma shoved her hand away. “We’re fine, thank you,” she said.

  “But—”

  “We don’t want any!” she shouted. Then, surprised by the venom in her voice, she added, “Not today anyway. Thank you.”

  She hooked an arm through Jim’s elbow to usher him away from the salesgirl before she tried a second time. The perfume department gave way to women’s lingerie; she pulled him along even faster; her face turned so warm she felt sweat form on her forehead. “Those look pretty on you,” he said. He snatched a pair of lacy pink panties.

  “I suppose.” She took the panties away from him and dropped them on the top of a rack as they passed through the jewelry section.

  To avoid the elevator, she stepped onto the escalator and nearly fell on her face when he didn’t come with her. She climbed up the moving stairs to rejoin him at the top. He stared down at the black metal steps; his lower lip trembled. “What those?”

  “It’s an escalator. They’re just like stairs, only they move. They aren’t dangerous.”

  “Where stairs go?”

  She could have given him a full technical readout of the escalators from their invention to the present, but there wasn’t time for that and he wouldn’t be interested anyway. “The old stairs go underneath and new ones come out the top.
”

  “What if you go under?”

  “You won’t.” She reached out to take his hand and squeezed it. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, all right?”

  “All right.” They stepped onto the escalator together; Emma kept hold of Jim’s hand. He gripped her hand tighter the farther down they went, until she was sure she’d hear bones snap. As they neared the bottom, she did her best to squeeze his hand again. “OK, here we go,” she said. “Just step off the same time I do.”

  She waited until the steps began to flatten and then stepped onto the silver platform. Jim followed suit; he stumbled for a terrible moment, but Emma kept hold of his hand and pulled him forward. She patted the back of his head gently. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “No.”

  They finally reached the section for men’s clothing. The salesman who approached them let his smile slip for a moment at the sight of Jim, but quickly regained his composure. “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “My…friend needs a new suit,” Emma said.

  “Certainly. What kind of suit are you looking for?”

  “He just needs something for a business meeting. We just got into town and the stupid airline lost our luggage.” She hoped her laugh didn’t sound too forced; she had never been much of a liar.

  “I’ve had that happen myself.” If the salesman was lying he was an expert; she couldn’t pick up any tells on his face. The problem came when the salesman tried to put a hand on Jim’s shoulder; Jim hissed a territorial challenge. The salesman jumped back a step.

  Emma put her hand on Jim’s shoulder and felt him relax slightly. “It’s all right,” she said into his ear. “He’s going to help you find some new clothes.”

  “No want his help. You help.”

  Emma felt her face turn warm at the thought of trying to take Jim’s measurements, especially his inseam. “I can’t.” In a lower voice, she said, “I said you can trust me. No one’s going to hurt you here.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yes.” She gave his hand a squeeze again. “He’s just going to fit you for some new clothes. That’s all.”

  “Can’t you come?”

  “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ve got to find some clothes for me, too. But I promise I won’t be far away.”