Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis

by P. T. Dilloway

  As the song faded, Emma collapsed against Jim, suddenly exhausted. Their lips touched and she found herself kissing him. This felt right to her. This felt natural, as if she’d done it before, even though they’d met just that morning. She had never believed in love at first sight, but maybe it felt like this.

  She moved her lips along his cheek and then down to his neck. Some kind of instinct took hold of her as she kissed around his neck; she searched for something. When she found the right spot, she pressed her mouth to it and her teeth brushed against his flesh—

  She pulled back, acutely aware she hadn’t just wanted to kiss him—she’d wanted to bite him. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have to go. I’m sorry.” Like Cinderella she bolted from the party; she pushed aside anyone who got in her way. She didn’t stop to apologize. If she didn’t get out of here, something terrible would happen.

  She burst through the front doors of the train station and ran into the night.

  ***

  One thing that seemed right to Emma was the large number of dark, garbage-strewn alleys in the city. When she became winded from running after she put miles between herself and the train station, she ducked into the nearest of these alleys. On a battered crate, she buried her head in her hands to cry.

  Jim would hate her now. He would think she’d ditched him because of their kiss. He would think she hadn’t liked it or he’d done something wrong. Neither of these were true. She had loved kissing him; she wished she could have done it forever. And he hadn’t done anything wrong—she had.

  It wasn’t just that she wanted to bite his neck, which in itself wasn’t that bad. There was nothing wrong with a little lover’s bite, something to remember her by. That wasn’t the thought that had run through her mind though; she had wanted to tear open his neck like a wild animal, to devour him. This thought had scared her enough that she had to get away from not only him, but also everyone else. Something dangerous lurked within her; she could feel it now even if she couldn’t understand what it was.

  She didn’t know how she could possibly explain this to Jim. What she’d felt didn’t make sense to her; she doubted she could get it to make any more sense to him. She would have to try to explain it, because she was bound to see him at the museum tomorrow morning, unless he was so embarrassed by her behavior that he didn’t show up.

  Or maybe she could not show up. She would certainly lose her job then, but maybe that would be for the best. She could live in the alleys like the other bums in the city and subsist on what she could scavenge, beg, or steal. At least then she wouldn’t have to see the look of disappointment on Becky’s and Jim’s faces.

  She looked up when she heard a violent cough that indicated she was not alone in the alley. There was no way that cough could have come from a rat or some other animal. It could only be from another person. “Hello?” she called out softly. “Is someone there?”

  She heard only a wheeze followed by another cough. Emma stood up and crept along the side of the alley. Whoever it was here with her didn’t sound in good shape. The coughing persisted and the wheezing became louder. “Are you all right? Do you need help?”

  There wasn’t much light in the alley, but thanks to the light pollution in the city she could make out someone curled up in the corner. She recognized the tangled white-blond hair and ratty mustard sweater of the homeless girl she’d met this morning. The girl’s thin body shook from the coughing and then rattled from the wheeze.

  Emma knelt down beside the girl and put a hand on her shoulder. The girl spun around, a wild look in her eyes, like that of an animal. “It’s all right,” Emma whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Emma helped the girl to sit up; the girl nodded her thanks. She coughed again and her face darkened. Though Emma wasn’t a doctor, something told her the girl was in the throes of an asthma attack. “Relax,” Emma said. “Try to focus on your breathing. Nice, easy breaths.”

  The girl closed her eyes and took regular breaths that gradually became less ragged. The girl’s face lightened until it was nearly as pale as it had been this morning. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Need inhaler.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Can’t afford it.”

  “Oh, I see. That’s why you wanted money earlier, wasn’t it?” Emma opened her purse when the girl nodded. “I don’t have much on me. Is there a hospital where you can go? Or maybe a free clinic?”

  “Shut down.”

  “Don’t you have any family who can help?”

  “All dead.”

  Emma put an arm around the girl’s shoulders while she tried to think of what they could do. There had to be something she could do to help this poor girl; she couldn’t just leave her out here on the street for her asthma to worsen until she finally suffocated. “What’s your name?”

  “Megan.”

  “My name’s Emma. I’m sorry about this morning. My friend was just trying to protect me.” Given Becky’s reaction that morning, Emma could only imagine what her friend would say if she brought Megan home. Still, what else could she do? If there were no hospitals or clinics where she could go, she didn’t see much of a choice. “Have you tried going to a church?”

  Megan shook her head again. “They won’t help.” She began to cry; her face again darkened as if she were about to have a relapse.

  “Don’t cry. We’re going to find a way to help you. Come on, let’s get you up.” Emma helped Megan to her feet; as she did, the girl hugged her and leaned her head on Emma’s shoulder.

  “God bless you,” Megan mumbled into Emma’s shoulder.

  As she did, Emma brushed Megan’s hair away from her neck. Her pale white neck, so slender and graceful, like a swan’s. She ran a finger along that gorgeous neck; she leaned her head closer towards it. Her fingernail seemed to elongate, to become like a claw to nick the pale flesh of Megan’s neck. A thin trickle of blood emerged from this wound. Emma bent closer and licked at the wound with her tongue.

  “Emma? What are you—?”

  “Quiet,” Emma hissed. Megan tried to pull away, but Emma held on to her tightly; her hands clamped down on Megan’s. “It’ll all be over soon.”

  She pressed her teeth against the tender flesh of Megan’s neck; she still tasted Megan’s blood in her mouth. It tasted so sweet, so full of life. Her teeth pressed closer against Megan’s neck. The girl whimpered in anticipation of pain.

  “Please don’t kill me,” Megan sobbed. “I don’t want to die!”

  Emma pulled her head away from Megan’s neck. Through sheer force of will she forced herself to let Megan go. The girl didn’t need any prompting to sprint out of the alley.

  Emma sagged to the ground and reached into her purse for her compact. She held up the mirror to her mouth and opened it wide. She began to sob as she saw the fangs.

  Chapter 10

  When they transferred her from the homicide division three years ago, they said all the right things about wanting to utilize her talents elsewhere. This “talent” was apparently to give boring lectures to women’s organizations on self-defense. She suspected the reason they chose her had more to do with her “talents” than any real talent. As one of only three female detectives on the force, there weren’t that many alternatives.

  The other two detectives of course had better things to do. They were still deemed useful. They hadn’t gotten their partners killed. Not like her. That was the real reason for her reassignment only six months after she’d become the youngest homicide detective ever.

  Now she could only stand in front of a group of old women at the Third Baptist Church, a poster mounted on an easel beside her. “Awareness of your surroundings is the most important deterrent against crime,” she said in the same dry monotone she always used; she had memorized the script years ago. “Criminals prey on those who aren’t paying attention. So when walking down the street, make
sure you aren’t talking on your phone or looking through your purse for something. Keep your head up and look about you. Questions?”

  There weren’t any; she wondered if any of the old women had even heard her or remembered anything she might have said. “I’ll leave some brochures here for you and your families. Stay safe.” She flashed the briefest of smiles and then began to pack up her things.

  Her hope to slink out unnoticed was dashed when the minister came up to her and held out his hand. “Thank you so much, Detective Joubert. That was very informative.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “Would you like any help carrying that?”

  “I can handle it. Thanks anyway, Reverend.” She wanted desperately to escape from the church basement, but the reverend insisted on yakking about the importance of her work and how some of the little old ladies had been mugged and how even though it was all part of “God’s Plan,” it still wasn’t right for these men to prey on poor old women. She agreed with every point, but it didn’t get him to shut up faster.

  Of course she should have known there was a catch at the end of it. “What church do you belong to, Detective?”

  “Country Lutheran,” she said, though she hadn’t gone there since she was nine years old. Then Sophie had been born and her parents were too tired to get up at seven in the morning to go to church. By the time Agnes had been born, they’d stopped even the empty promises about going back. That was fine with her, as she had always hated to sit in church in her stiff dress, while she tried not to squirm as the minister rambled on and on.

  “I see. If you’re ever looking for a change, our congregation has many fine things to offer young women like yourself.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.” She was saved from boredom by her cell phone ringing. The number belonged to the station, probably to make sure she got over to Ohlund Elementary in time for Career Day. To stand in front of a class of third graders and lie about how great it was to be a cop would be even more tedious than this. “Joubert, here.”

  “Listen, Joubert, I got an assignment for you,” Captain Kramer said. He mispronounced her named as “Jew-bert” so consistently that she figured he did it deliberately, despite that she wasn’t Jewish in the slightest way; she didn’t even eat bagels.

  “I’m on my way to Ohlund right now.”

  “Forget about that. Something else has come up. I got a case for you.”

  “Great,” she said with a sigh. Over the last three years the cases he had given her were always the ones no other detective wanted to put up with: missing dogs, stolen humidifiers, and bogus UFO sightings. “Someone lose their wedding ring down a sink?”

  “It’s a missing kid. Eleven years old. Name’s Renee Margaret Kim. Father golfs with the commissioner so it’s a big fucking deal.”

  “Then why aren’t you giving it to Missing Persons?”

  “It just came in and I need someone on it ASAP, as in yesterday.”

  She put down the box of unused brochures and reached into her jacket for her notebook and pen. “Fine, give me the details.” She jotted down notes on the pertinent details of the case. When she finished, she asked, “Should I call Ohlund and say I’m not coming?”

  “Don’t worry, we’ve got Woof on it.”

  “Great. I’ll let you know when I find something.” She turned off the phone and shook her head. While it was nice she wouldn’t have to go to the school, she couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than to be replaced by a sock puppet.

  “Is something wrong?” the minister asked her.

  “No, just another beautiful day the Lord hath made,” she grumbled.

  ***

  It became clear the moment she showed her credentials to Mr. Sang-Ki Kim the reason why Kramer had called her. “Joubert? You know Agnes Joubert?”

  “She’s my sister.”

  “She friend of Renee. Renee say she sleep there last night. I call and fat friend say she no there,” Mr. Kim said. “I call school and they say she not in class yesterday afternoon.”

  “What school is that?”

  “Gustafson High. Where you sister go.” He rolled his eyes at her as if she were an idiot. He probably didn’t realize that since she was ten years older than Agnes, she really had no idea about her sister’s friends. Though she did vaguely remember some little Asian kid who’d hung around the house once or twice.

  “I thought you said she’s eleven.”

  “Yes. She very smart. Someone probably kidnap her because she so smart.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Do you know of any favorite hangouts Renee might have? Places where she might go if she wants to be alone?”

  “She go to library a lot. I tell her no take bus but she do anyway.”

  “So how would you characterize your relationship with Renee? Have you had any problems recently? Arguments?”

  “We always argue. She very stubborn. Like donkey. I try get her into good schools, become lawyer. She only want read books and watch TV with fat friend.”

  This case seemed pretty cut-and-dry. The girl had probably argued with her father and run off. Most likely she was at home or somewhere close by. “Can you give me a description of what she was wearing? A recent photo would help too.”

  “I not see her go. Ask Consuela.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “She maid. She probably see Renee go.”

  “Is she at your home right now?”

  “She should be. Probably on couch watching TV. She lazy.”

  “I’ll give her a call then,” she said. She started to see why Renee Kim might have run off. Mr. Kim gave her a photo off his desk of a little Asian girl with a crooked smile and cotton candy pink pigtails. “She’s very cute.”

  “Hair not pink now. Blue-green now.”

  “Blue-green?”

  “Like this,” Mr. Kim said. He held up a turquoise-colored portfolio.

  “Oh, I see.” She snapped the notebook shut and then tucked the photo inside. “I’ll start to check around and see what I can find. Try not to worry too much, Mr. Kim. She’ll probably come home when she gets hungry or tired or scared.”

  “You not know Renee. She very smart. She not baby.”

  “Right. Thank you for your time, sir. I’ll be in touch.” She left her card with his secretary and then went back to her car; she dreamed of strangling Kramer for this.

  ***

  The last time she’d met Aggie in the office of Gustafson High, it had been to take her sister home after she got sick. Back then Aggie had been rotund, worn Goth makeup, and dyed her hair purple. This time she almost didn’t recognize her sister in the corner, clad in an ordinary T-shirt and jeans, her hair a neutral brown, and stomach less prominent.

  “Hi,” Aggie said shyly. “Is Renee in trouble?”

  “Not yet. Let’s go somewhere to talk.” The principal’s secretary had reserved a conference room for them, where she could talk to her sister in private. As she sat down, she wished for a cigarette, but there was no smoking in the school. She jammed a piece of gum in her mouth and then offered one to Aggie, who took it warily, as if it would explode. “So what did Renee say to you?”

  “She said she was going to stay with her cousin.”

  “Who’s her cousin?”

  “He’s in the army. He’s kind of tall and black. He has a beard.”

  “You didn’t get his name?”

  “She said his name was Tim.” Tears came to her eyes. “Do you think he took her?”

  “I don’t know. Did she tell you anything about this guy?”

  “Not really. She’s never mentioned any cousins before.” Aggie wiped futilely at her eyes. “He’s probably some creep she met on the Internet. I told her to be careful about that, but she never was. She liked to play with them. She has this whole separate ID she uses to set up meetings.”

  “Does she meet with these guys?”

  “No. She just wants to mess with them.” Aggie sniffled and then wiped at her eyes a
gain. “I told her to be careful!”

  She came around the table to pat her sister’s back. Because of the age difference, she and Aggie had never been close. Even without the age difference they didn’t have much in common. Agnes had always been so sensitive and shy; it figured the only kid who would befriend her would be an eleven-year-old no one else probably wanted to be friends with. “It’s all right, Agnes. We’re going to find her.”

  “It’s my fault,” Aggie bawled.

  “It’s no one’s fault. These things happen.” At least that’s what they’d told her after Charlotte died, that sometimes bad things happened and there was no way to prevent them. She hadn’t believed it, nor did Aggie in this case.

  “I should have told her father. But I thought then she wouldn’t be my friend anymore.”

  “Agnes, calm down. I’m going to find Renee, all right? But I need your help.”

  Aggie looked up and stared at her through her tear-filled eyes. “You do?”

  “Yes. I need you to tell me the sort of places you guys like to hang out.”

  Aggie listed the park near Mom’s house, an Olga’s nearby, and the main branch of the library as Renee’s primary haunts besides their houses. Aggie sniffled again and then added, “There’s this other place too. Some factory her father owns. She wanted me to go, but it sounded dirty and gross. Does that help?”

  “It might.” She patted her sister’s back again, to make her feel better, something she wasn’t accustomed to doing. “Thanks a lot. Now you get back to class and I’ll call you later if I find anything.”

  “All right,” Aggie mumbled. She climbed off the chair to waddle back into the office.

  Aggie probably ought to go home sick, but then again school might help her keep her mind off the guilt—for a little while. She knew all too well how that never really went away.