Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis

by P. T. Dilloway

  “I’m afraid she’s gone, Emma.”

  “Gone? What do you mean?”

  “She passed away, just a few minutes ago.”

  “But how? She was alive. She was safe.”

  Dr. Pavelski shook her head. “We did everything we could, but she was just too weak. I’m so sorry.”

  She had never seen a volcano up close, at least until that moment. The redness in Emma’s face built up slowly; it turned from a normal blush to a burning magenta. Her eyes were even more terrible; they seemed almost to glow as the realization set in.

  And then she exploded.

  Dr. Pavelski didn’t see Emma move. One moment she sat on the bed and the next Dr. Pavelski lay on the floor with Emma’s hands locked around her throat to choke the life out of her. “You killed her! You fucking bitch! You killed her!” To punctuate each sentence, Emma smacked Dr. Pavelski’s head against the tile floor. “You killed my daughter! She was alive! Alive! You killed her!”

  As much as Dr. Pavelski would have liked to say something to try to calm her patient, her windpipe was completely closed by Emma’s hands. She could only stare up at Emma, her eyes filled with hatred, her face a mask of madness. Dr. Pavelski thrashed around with one hand until she managed to snatch the call button from beside the bed and pressed down on it.

  A nurse ran into the room. “Jesus Christ!” the nurse shouted before she ran for reinforcements. Those came in the form of two burly orderlies, who could flip a four hundred pound man over, but weren’t trained to deal with Emma Earl.

  Emma let go of Dr. Pavelski’s throat as the orderlies took hold of her. She kicked one in the kneecap, which prompted him to scream with pain. With one orderly down, Emma freed one arm to smash the second orderly’s nose with the heel of her hand.

  During the brief skirmish Dr. Pavelski had turned onto her belly to crawl towards the door. Emma dragged her back and flipped her over to resume choking her. This time Dr. Pavelski knew she would die.

  Becky saved her life. “Emma, stop it!”

  “No! She killed Louise! She killed my daughter!”

  Becky was smart enough not to grab her friend. “You’ve never killed anyone in your life,” Becky said. “Are you going to start now?”

  “Yes.”

  “They’ll put you in jail. Is that what you want?”

  “I don’t care anymore!” But Emma’s grip loosened slightly around Dr. Pavelski’s throat. “What does anything matter if she’s dead?”

  Now Becky went over to her friend and put her arms around Emma’s shoulders. “You still have me and all your friends. We’ll help you through this, all right?”

  Emma released Dr. Pavelski’s neck to grab Becky’s shoulders; she clung to her as if her entire body had suddenly gone slack. Emma didn’t say anything as Becky guided her back onto the bed, where she curled up into a ball. She didn’t even flinch as the nurse returned to jam a needle in her arm. Finally her body went still.

  ***

  The moment Aggie saw Rebecca’s face she knew she had been right. In the archives, when she saw Louise squirming inside the pink sheet she hoped her prophecy would not come to pass, that she had read the signs wrong. Even after she vanished the child to the hospital without her mother getting the chance to hold her, Aggie held out hope. When she saw the tears in Rebecca’s eyes, she knew she had been right all along.

  Dr. Dreyfus wasn’t quite as perceptive as her. As Rebecca ran into his arms and sobbed, he asked, “What happened?”

  “She’s dead,” Rebecca mumbled.

  “Who?”

  “Louise.”

  “Oh God,” Dr. Dreyfus said.

  There was nearly a second death that night as Megan Putnam’s face began to turn blue. Her friend Amanda knelt by her side with an emergency inhaler to spray the medicine into young Megan’s mouth. “It’s all right,” Amanda said. “Try to relax. Dr. Earl isn’t going to want you to die too.” This latter sentence seemed to get through to Megan, who nodded. Gradually her face turned a healthier red and she began to sob on her friend’s shoulder as Rebecca was with Dr. Dreyfus.

  Aggie wanted to cry too, wanted to run into Akako’s arms and bawl like a child. Despite being over five hundred years old and a witch, she still couldn’t make herself numb when someone she loved passed away. In this case she might not have known little Louise Earl, but she loved her as an extension of her mother.

  As much as she wanted to cry, she didn’t. Though she might not look it, she was the oldest of their little makeshift family in the waiting room. She had to set the example for the others, to be strong for them—and for Emma.

  From down the hall she saw another medical team race into Emma’s room with a gurney. Aggie put a hand to her mouth when she saw an orderly being taken out on the gurney. Another orderly walked between two nurses, a towel pressed to his face. Both orderlies howled with pain. “Oh dear,” Aggie said to herself.

  When she got to the door for Emma’s room, she saw the nurse strap Emma’s limbs to the bed. A male doctor squatted beside Dr. Pavelski, who sat on the floor; her face looked as red as Megan Putnam’s. “What’s going on here?” Aggie asked. “Why are you tying her down?”

  “She’s a danger to herself and others,” the male doctor said.

  Aggie thought of the two orderlies she had seen being taken out of the room. She supposed there was no sense to argue that Emma wasn’t dangerous. “She was upset. That’s all. She’s not a madwoman.”

  “I don’t know about that,” the doctor said. “She almost killed Dr. Pavelski.”

  Aggie put a hand to her mouth again as she saw Emma tied down like an animal. Her face was still a mask of pain. “She’s not going to hurt anyone else.”

  “You’re right about that. She’s going to the psych ward for observation.”

  “No,” Dr. Pavelski said. “She’s my patient.”

  “Not anymore. We have to run some tests on you and then you’re going home to rest.” The doctor turned to Aggie and glared at her. “You’ll be lucky if your friend doesn’t end up in jail for this.”

  “Jail? Now see here, young man—”

  “You should go, miss. Visiting hours are over. For you and your friends.”

  Aggie clenched her fists. With just a few words she could turn this insolent man into a toad or a pile of dust. She could easily vanish Emma home or to the archives or someplace safe. But she didn’t. To attack this man wouldn’t help Emma, nor would it help to take her from the hospital. “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” she said.

  Everyone paired off and left. Dr. Dreyfus took Rebecca home; he still clutched her against his body. Amanda Murdoch took Megan home, the girl’s face still rosy from her near-fatal asthma attack. That left Aggie to go home with Akako, who throughout it all had sat silently. She had arrived only an hour ago from the archives and had left the carpet rolled up behind some bushes out front.

  “It’s so terrible,” Akako said as they climbed up into the sky on the carpet.

  “It’s never easy to watch a child die,” Aggie said. Her three sons had all died when they were fully-grown, but in her eyes they had still been children—her children. While she had always known she would outlive them, this thought didn’t comfort her as she had sat beside their beds and held their hands until their last breaths escaped.

  “No, it’s not,” Akako said.

  Aggie could feel Akako had some personal experience with this. She squeezed Akako’s hand and asked, “What happened?”

  She listened patiently as Akako told her about the baby she had lost, though it hadn’t been nearly as old as Louise. To finish, Akako said, “It still hurts, even after all this time.”

  “It’s all right, dear. You don’t have to face it alone anymore.”

  “What about Emma?”

  “We’ll do what we can for her. She’s strong.”

  Akako nodded. She rested her head on Aggie’s shoulder. The carpet flew lazy circles over the city, high enough that only someone in an aircraft or
in the observation deck of Robinson Tower could have seen them. Even then, they wouldn’t believe what they saw: two women on a flying carpet, who clung to each other as if their lives depended on it.

  Epilogue

  To enter the hospital psych ward was like entering a prison. A security guard ran a metal detector over Becky’s body to make sure she hadn’t concealed any deadly weapons. Another scrutinized her ID, both her driver’s license and her city hall badge. This security was made necessary after someone broke one of the patients out, who then killed two people before the Scarlet Knight tracked him down.

  Of course now the Scarlet Knight herself was in the psych ward. Not much longer, Becky told herself. Today was the day they would finally let Emma out. Two months after Louise died, her mother could finally come home.

  A bald man with a gray goatee and clad in a brown cardigan met her just inside the doors. She instantly didn’t like him when he introduced himself as, “Dr. Zeller, Emma’s treatment supervisor.”

  “You’re her shrink?”

  “I’ve been overseeing her recovery,” Dr. Zeller said.

  “Where is she?”

  “She’ll be along soon. First I’d like to discuss a few things in my office. If you don’t mind.”

  Becky did mind; she wanted to get Emma out of this place as quickly as possible. From where she stood she couldn’t see any of the patients, but imagined them in bathrobes and slippers like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest as they shuffled around and talked to themselves or stared at nothing. How could a smart, rational woman like Emma survive in such a place?

  But Becky decided it would be best to play along for now. “I don’t mind.”

  The shrink’s office looked the same as any other doctor’s office with degrees on the walls and medical books on the shelves. Becky was disappointed to see no couch in the room. She had to sit in an armchair instead while the doctor settled behind his desk. He looked down at a file on his desk, which no doubt was Emma’s. She wanted to snatch it away so she could see what this little jerk had written about her friend.

  “Your friend has suffered a very traumatic event,” Dr. Zeller said.

  “No kidding.”

  “I think you need to prepare yourself to accept that Emma is not going to be the same.”

  “Why? What did you do to her?” She had horrible visions of Zeller drilling a hole in Emma’s head or electrocuting her to turn her into a drooling vegetable.

  “It’s not what we’ve done to her so much as what she’s done to herself.”

  “Did she try to cut her wrists or something?”

  “Not at all. If you’ll let me finish, Ms. Beech, what I’m trying to say is that your friend has suffered a serious trauma and that while she may be perfectly sane and rational, she isn’t going to act exactly as you remember for some time—perhaps forever.” The doctor flipped through the file on his desk. “From what she’s displayed in here, your friend has difficulty in expressing her emotions. In consulting with Dr. Pavelski and others, I take it this isn’t a new phenomenon.”

  “No, Emma’s always been shy.”

  “And she’s already suffered one serious trauma: the death of her parents. From what I see, she never received any treatment for that.”

  “Her aunt tried to get her to go to a counselor but she thought it would take away from her studies.”

  “She’s always been a voracious reader, hasn’t she?” Dr. Zeller motioned to the shelf of medical books. “She read my entire library. We had to send out to the public library for more.”

  “The girl likes to read, so what?”

  “I’m concerned she uses reading to avoid social interaction. She refused to participate in group activities and the nurses report that during free periods she would usually sit in a corner, reading.”

  “I wouldn’t want to talk to a bunch of loonies either.”

  “Your support of Emma is admirable. I’m just concerned that it might lead you to overlook serious mental issues.”

  “Emma doesn’t have any serious mental issues. Her baby died. She went a little nuts. A lot of people would do the same thing.”

  “Would a lot of people put two men in the hospital and nearly choke a woman to death?”

  “Probably not.” She wanted to add that most people didn’t have Emma’s experience in putting men in the hospital, but knew better than to mention anything about that to this weasel.

  Dr. Zeller closed the file and then took off his glasses as he leaned back in his chair. “My recommendation was to keep Dr. Earl in here a little longer. I don’t think she’s ready to go back out into the world yet. She needs to learn better coping strategies, to confront her issues instead of trying to avoid them.”

  In that area, Becky didn’t disagree with the doctor. For eleven years Emma hadn’t coped with the death of her parents, until she was finally forced to confront it thanks to a kind of hypnosis from the Black Dragoon. Despite that, she still didn’t like to talk about them; she didn’t even keep a picture of them anywhere visible. “That’s always been her way,” Becky said. “It’s just how she is.”

  “Yes, well, I think she needs to find a healthier way to live.” Dr. Zeller sighed. “But the hospital doesn’t see any reason to keep her here. Budget constraints, mostly. I’m giving her a referral to my colleague Dr. Richman. He’ll be in charge of her outpatient treatment. If you notice anything abnormal, or maybe if you’re feeling any difficulties yourself, you can give him a call.”

  “I’ll do that,” Becky said. She took the card Zeller offered, though she had no intention to call a shrink, though God knew they would find her a great case study. She had never known her father, her mother was an abusive drunk, she had an eating disorder, her husband had been gunned down at their wedding, and her best friend was a superhero. They’d probably want to put her in a place like this before she finished.

  Someone knocked on the door. A nurse stuck her head in the door. “Dr. Earl is all packed and ready to go, Dr. Zeller.”

  “Good. Send her in, please.”

  Becky didn’t know what to expect when Emma appeared at the door. She again had a terrible vision of Emma shuffling along, drool coming out the corner of her mouth, and a lobotomy scar in the center of her forehead.

  What she saw was her best friend—almost. Emma’s hair had turned pure white. Her face remained as youthful as ever, but her copper hair had lost all color. The other notable difference was in her eyes. They were the same blue, but there was something cold about them now. The other difference didn’t become clear until Emma spoke, her voice still soft, but now it lacked any sort of warmth to it. “Hello Becky,” she said. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “You too, kid.” Becky stood up to give Emma a hug. As she did, she tucked a tress of white hair behind Emma’s ear to make sure it was real. Dr. Zeller was right that Emma was different, but would it be forever?

  ***

  Once they’d put the hospital in the rearview mirror, Becky said, “We could stop at a drugstore on the way home. I bet we could find a pretty good match for your hair.”

  “No thanks.”

  “I just thought maybe—”

  “I’m fine. Thank you,” Emma said. She didn’t snap or show any sort of anger when she said this. Her voice remained perfectly neutral, flat.

  “If that’s what you want.” Becky couldn’t help but glance over at her friend every few seconds to see that oddly white hair. For her part, Emma looked straight ahead without even a glance in her direction.

  Becky was relieved to see Emma hadn’t lost any of her cognitive functions when she said, “It’s not polite to stare.”

  “I’m sorry.” They drove in silence for a minute, until Becky asked, “Did that doctor say how long it’s going to be like that?”

  “He isn’t sure. Could be a while. Or it could change back next week.”

  “Great.” Becky sighed, not sure how to approach this. Emma had always been shy, as she’d said to Dr. Zeller, bu
t she had never seemed so aloof before. “Do you want to get anything to eat? That hospital food can’t have been very good.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  This didn’t come as a surprise as Emma had never eaten much; she didn’t use food as a coping mechanism like Becky. “We should probably at least stop at the grocery store. We’re all out of protein powder and Red Bull.”

  Emma showed no reaction to this joke; it was almost as if she were some kind of robot constructed to take the real Emma’s place. She did finally turn her head; her steely blue eyes seemed to bore into Becky as she said, “I want to go to the cemetery.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should go home and get some rest.”

  “I got plenty of rest in there. I want to see where you buried her.”

  They had not let Emma out to attend her own child’s funeral. It had been a private service, with just Becky, Aggie, Akako, Dan, Amanda, Megan, and Dr. Pavelski in attendance. The latter Becky hadn’t wanted to attend until Aggie persuaded her the doctor had done what she could and needed some closure as much as any of them. Of course the one who needed closure the most was the one they wouldn’t let attend.

  Becky didn’t want to take Emma there so soon, but she supposed maybe it would help her cope with Louise’s death. Maybe it would help her confront the problem. That would be progress. “Sure. It’s along the way.”

  Becky had considered burying Louise in the Parkdale cemetery where Emma’s parents were interred, but ultimately decided it would be best to keep the two great tragedies in Emma’s life separated from each other. To that end she’d buried little Louise in the Rampart Gardens Cemetery in the historical district. As the cemetery had been in existence since before Rampart’s founding space was at a premium, but they agreed to find room for Louise thanks to a generous donation by Dan.

  Dan’s money also got them a plot in a premium spot—on a hill, next to an old oak tree. The tombstone was red granite with the inscription: “Louise Gladys Earl, Beloved Daughter.” Becky had put only the year on the tombstone, not individual birth or death dates; she found that too depressing. Louise had been alive for less than twelve hours, almost all of that time spent in a hospital incubator; never once had her mother held her.