The machine gun had flown out of her hand to land somewhere out of her sight. Dr. Reed lay bloodied and broken on the ground, unable to do more than spit out a wad of blood and teeth. She thought of Joanna, soon to be an orphan, just like that other Emma had been. Through her pain, Dr. Reed smiled; there were worse fates than to become like Emma Earl.
She heard the footsteps approach as the world around her began to darken. I’m sorry, baby, she thought. She hoped Joanna could hear her thoughts now. I’m going up to Heaven with Daddy now. Her eyes closed even as she heard a man growl, “Say goodnight, Red.”
Then came the gunshot.
***
Tim rolled to his right to narrowly avoid another flying claw. Apparently Sylvia wouldn’t run out of the things anytime soon. Or more accurately, every time she ran out, she reloaded and they would start all over again.
At least since Emma had gone he hadn’t had furniture disappear or the floor turn to tar. She, along with the Reds, must be taking up enough of Isis’s attention that she didn’t have time to worry about him. Not that she needed to worry about him since it was pretty clear Sylvia would win this bout.
One tenant of mechanical engineering was never to use a device for what it wasn’t designed to do. Tim hadn’t designed his metal suit for close combat against the Black Dragoon; he had designed it to explore the city, find Emma, and bring her back. Otherwise he would have given more thought to the suit’s offensive capabilities. That was something he would certainly have to work out later—if there was a later.
As he dodged Sylvia’s claws, he tried to sneak glimpses of her to see if there were anything of the real Sylvia left in her, or if she was just Isis’s puppet at this point. She had taken off her helmet entirely; her dark red hair coiled around her head like snakes to make her look like Medusa. Her eyes didn’t turn him literally to stone, but the hatred in them metaphorically turned him to stone. Maybe she really was nothing more than a gorgon now, not the woman he had kissed back in New Stockholm.
He rolled onto his knees and fired a dart at her neck. She batted this aside as if it were a mosquito. “Sylvia, please, it’s me! Tim Cooper. I’m not your enemy.”
“I came here to arrest you,” she growled. “Now I’m going to enjoy disemboweling you.”
“You don’t want to do that. I know you don’t.”
“What would you know about me? You still think I’m your Sylvia Joubert.”
He dove behind another planter and panted. He doubted Sylvia was tired, not with that magic armor of hers. She could last all night, long after his batteries gave out and the hydraulics went dead. He thought again that maybe he had told Emma to go too quickly, but he reminded himself that in the scheme of things Sylvia—and him—weren’t important. Their conflict meant relatively little compared to what was going on upstairs, where Emma faced the true evil. If he could hold Sylvia at bay long enough, Emma might defeat Isis and the black armor would be destroyed. Or if Emma failed then he would be dead anyway.
Now that he didn’t have to worry about Isis abruptly changing the layout of the building, Tim gazed down a corridor to his right. If he could get Sylvia into the hallways and offices, he might be able to work up some kind of trap. An ambush was about the only hope he had to get close to her without getting run through with those claws of hers.
Before he could make a break for it, he needed to distract Sylvia. He reached out for the leg of a chair and hurled it over his head in her general direction; he counted how long it took for the chair to reach her. “Is that the best you can do?” she shouted. “Pathetic weakling.”
He peeked over the planter to verify she was still in the fountain. Despite that Emma wasn’t around and he couldn’t turn invisible, she had yet to take more than a step out of the fountain. Maybe that was the last command Isis had given her, to defend that fountain with her life. In that case, it wouldn’t do him much good to run off. He would have to take the chance.
“After you disembowel me, then what are you going to do?” he called out to her. “What about your sisters back home? Or your mother? You just going to abandon them?”
“Agnes and Mother are pathetic slobs. Sophie is a whiny bore. None of them can provide me with what Isis can.”
Tim reached out for another chair and readied himself to throw it and then make a break for the hallway. First, he wanted to throw her off her game if he could, though trash talk had never been a skill of his. “You couldn’t stop me back on the docks in New Stockholm; what makes you think you can stop me now? That tin can you’re wearing?”
“You’re the one wearing the tin can. And I’ll rip it open like such,” she growled. He hurled the chair at her and counted to five before he ran. He ran just a second before the chair reached her. The chair threw off her aim enough that the claws sailed high, well over his head.
The initial hallway was wide and tall enough to easily accommodate his suit. The bank of elevators had disappeared, probably to make it more difficult for Emma to reach Isis. Tim lit his boosters to rocket up into the air. He slid over to his right, towards a railing for the offices on the second floor. The warning light came on for the boosters, but he ignored this. Just as the boosters began to lose power, he made it to the railing and flipped himself over it.
There was no time to rest, as he heard Sylvia downstairs. “You think you can hide from me?” she shouted. “You’re a coward as well as a weakling!”
She might be right about that. To run away certainly wasn’t the brave thing to do, but it was the smart thing to do given his limitations. He broke down the door to an architectural firm and stomped past the reception desk, into the cubicles beyond this. There wasn’t anything he could use here, not that he really knew what he wanted.
Lucky for him the next office was the building’s security. There were no weapons in there that could hurt Sylvia, but he did find a directory for the building. He found what he needed on the tenth floor. The only question would be if he could get there and set up before Sylvia caught him.
There was only one way to find out.
***
The confirmation came when the other Scarlet Knight opened her helmet to reveal Louise’s face. Not that of the adorable two-year-old Emma had left behind in France, but of the young woman Louise would become. The only difference was that Louise’s eyes had turned black like those of Isis.
“Louise, what are you doing?” Emma asked.
“My name isn’t Louise,” she growled. “My name is Katya.”
Katya was the name Bykov had given her, the name she had known until Emma rescued her from Bykov’s clutches. “I’m sorry,” Emma said. “Katya, why are you wearing that armor?”
“To protect Mother from you.”
“Isis isn’t your mother. I’m your mother! Don’t you remember?”
“I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
“Louise—Katya—this isn’t you. You’re only two years old. You were taken to Russia by a man named Sergei Bykov.”
“And you killed him,” Louise said. “You killed my father.”
“He wasn’t your father. Jim Rizzard was your father. You met him. He was wearing a ratskin coat. You got your nose and your pretty hair from him.”
“My father was not the Sewer Rat.”
“His name was Jim Rizzard.”
Louise took the golden Sword of Justice from its sheath. The blade glowed bright yellow in the presence of so much evil. “I’m tired of your lies. You’re trying to trick me by making me think I’m your baby. It’s not going to work. I’m a grown-up and I know who my parents are.”
Louise lunged forward; Emma jumped back in time to avoid the blade. She leaped into the air and pulled the silver Sword of Justice from its sheath as she did so. She turned in midair to come down behind Louise. As she swung the silver blade, Louise managed to spin around and block the blow with her sword. The two Swords of Justice rang against each other; sparks flew, but neither one shattered.
Louise pushed her
blade hard against Emma’s; her daughter’s younger muscles won out to push Emma back. Emma stumbled back and narrowly missed another swipe from Louise’s sword. She brought her blade around to try to knock Louise’s away, but her daughter held on to her sword.
They parried and thrust for what seemed like hours as neither of them gained an advantage. Despite that Emma’s armor was newer, they seemed to be evenly matched. In part it was because Louise’s youth and more compact frame negated the advantage of Emma’s lighter armor. Another part, as much of Emma hated to admit it, was that she couldn’t bring herself to go all out against her own daughter. This of course was why Isis had chosen Louise, just as she’d previously tapped Becky to be the Black Dragoon, because she knew Emma couldn’t kill her best friend.
The question that rose up in Emma’s mind was how Louise could wear the scarlet armor. She knew from experience that there was only one Scarlet Knight and to wear the armor that person had to hear the Call. Louise certainly wouldn’t have heard the Call, not when she was just two years old. Was it because Emma had effectively renounced the armor when she had given herself to Isis? Or was it that in the future Louise would wear the armor?
These were the kind of questions only Merlin could answer. She hoped she wouldn’t get a chance to ask, not for a long time. She also hoped that when she got a chance to ask Merlin, Louise wouldn’t have already been waiting for her on the astral plane for a while.
Despite that the armor was magic, Emma started to breathe hard as she began to tire; the Sword of Justice became heavier and her swings less aggressive. Louise sensed her advantage and pressed her attack. While the situation was dire, Emma felt a tinge of motherly pride at how well Louise fought. She did have a weakness, one that owed to her youth, in that she fought too emotionally. If Emma could rattle her a bit, Louise would probably open her guard. But trash talk had never been her strong suit, not even after nine years of being a superhero.
From their brief conversation earlier, Emma knew her daughter’s sensitive spot. “Bykov didn’t really love you. Not as much as he loved his real child. When Jim and I kidnapped Ivan, his father was more than willing to trade him for you.”
“You’re lying! Papa loved me!”
“Sure, he loved you—like one of his hunting dogs. When he got tired of your whining, he gave you away.”
“Shut up!” That did it. Louise brought the golden Sword of Justice around for a wild, long swing meant to take Emma’s head off. Emma of course was not there. She ducked beneath the swing and came back up not with her sword, but with her fist to punch Louise in the midsection. Her daughter flew backwards to land on her back; the golden sword fell from her hand.
Emma leaped across the distance between them and planted her foot on Louise’s weapon. She pointed her Sword of Justice at Louise’s neck. “It’s over now, baby. Give up, please.”
“Never. I’ll never let you hurt Mother.”
“I’m your mother, Katya.” Emma flipped open the visor of her helmet so Louise could see her eyes. “I’m your mother and I love you.”
“No you’re not. You’re lying!”
“Katya, look in my eyes. Your real name is Louise Gladys Earl. You were born two years ago at St. Joseph’s Hospital here in Rampart City. Sergei Bykov stole you from me; he switched you with another baby so I would think you died. He took you to Russia and renamed you Katya. He wanted you to work for him, to run his empire after he died. But your real father and I went to Russia and we got you back. Jim and Bykov died. You and I went into the forest. You tried to run away but I found you. Do you remember?”
As she said all of this, Emma noticed Louise’s eyes turn from black to dark purple. Maybe Emma was getting through to her; maybe she wasn’t completely lost yet. “And I said that whatever happens, I want you to remember that I love you very much. And I always will. Don’t you remember, baby?”
Louise stared at her for a moment and then nodded slowly. “Mommy?” she said.
“That’s right, baby. I’m your mommy. Do you remember?”
“Yes.” Tears came to Louise’s purple eyes. “Can we go home?”
“Soon, baby. Very soon.”
Emma pulled the Sword of Justice away from Louise’s neck and then held out her hand. Louise took it and squeezed Emma’s hand. She squeezed until Emma winced with pain. When Louise smiled, it was with the evil grin of Isis. “Got you,” Louise hissed. Emma barely had time to gasp before Louise shoved her backwards, off of the gold Sword of Justice.
Emma staggered back, but got her blade up in time again as Louise called her sword back to her hand and swung at her mother. Emma wrapped the silver cape around her body to turn invisible. Louise held up in mid swing to bring her sword into a defensive position. “You can’t hide from me, Mommy,” she said. She hurled the Sword of Justice right at Emma.
Emma ducked under this; she should have realized the invisibility wouldn’t work against the eyes of someone pure of heart. Despite what Isis had done to Louise, that still seemed to apply to her. Emma lifted her sword again and the battle continued.
Chapter 37
When Joanna was a year old, she asked, “Where Dada?”
Dr. Reed smiled down on her innocent little baby to decide how to explain that her father was dead. “He’s gone up to Heaven, baby,” she said.
“What Heaven?” Joanna asked. She had fallen asleep when her grandparents tried to take her to Mass.
“It’s a very special, very faraway place where God lives. It’s a really beautiful place where it’s always sunny and warm and there’s never any winter.”
“Not even Christmas?”
“Well, of course it snows on Christmas. But not any other time, unless you really want it to.” Dr. Reed stopped, her cheeks warm. This wasn’t how she had hoped it would go. For one thing, she had hoped Joanna would be older before they had to have this talk. She should have known that a girl who had already potty trained herself before her first birthday would realize her father was never around. “Anyway, in Heaven you can do whatever you want all the time. Nothing bad can ever happen to you there.”
“Why Dada go there?”
Dr. Reed paused again to search for the right words. “Well, sometimes when people are really good, God brings them up there to live with him.”
“Dada good?”
“Yes, baby, Dada was very, very good. He was so good that God brought him up there to live with him up in the clouds.”
“I wanna go. I wanna see Dada.”
“Not now, baby. Not for a long, long time, until you’re an old lady like Mommy.” Dr. Reed touched the end of Joanna’s nose. “Now go to sleep, baby.”
Almost always an obedient girl, Joanna had gone to sleep. Over the next two years, Joanna continued to pepper her with questions about Heaven and her father. Dr. Reed deflected these questions as best she could. While Joanna was a very smart child, she was at heart still an innocent little girl, too young to handle death.
Now Dr. Reed knew her daughter would have to handle death. Joanna was alone now, with no one to protect her from that harsh truth anymore. She would have to accept that both of her parents were dead.
As for Dr. Reed, Heaven was about like how she had described it to Joanna back then. It was sunny and warm, the sky a brilliant blue and the hills a verdant green. She sat in a field of tulips, her favorite flower and the only ones to which she wasn’t allergic. The only thing out of place was the mountain that rose far above the hills. It wasn’t even a mountain range, just a single mountain that rose so high the clouds obscured its peak. Was that where God lived?
She had never really bought into the stories she told Joanna about Heaven and God; her scientific background made such notions seem absurd. Maybe there was some truth to it after all. Or maybe her mind had manufactured all of this; the same type of hypnosis Akako’s daughter had used to turn Dr. Reed into little Aiko.
Dr. Reed wondered what had become of Akako and her friends. Had they managed to elude the police?
Or had they been caught and taken to Isis? She supposed there was no way to find out; they certainly didn’t appear to have newspapers here.
She decided to get up and have a look around. If this really were Heaven, maybe she could find Red—her Red. As she walked through the field, she stopped long enough to pick some flowers, the way she had when she was a little girl when she visited her grandmother’s house. She had long wanted to take Joanna there, but before her grandmother died, she lost the house to foreclosure.
Armed with a bouquet of tulips she hoped to present to her husband, Dr. Reed stepped onto a dirt path. She had expected Heaven to have streets paved with gold as described in the Bible, but maybe those came later. Maybe she was merely in the suburbs of Heaven.
She went what must have been two miles before she saw a man in the roadway. He looked like a cartoon wizard with his robe, pointed hat, and long gray beard. He needed only the staff to complete the illusion.
“Back so soon?” the wizard asked. His voice sounded vaguely British.
“Excuse me?”
“I must say your hair is an improvement over that ghastly white, though I should think you need some more sleep for those bags under your eyes.”
Dr. Reed put a hand to her face and realized her eyes were a bit puffy. Still, that was none of this old man’s business. “Who are you?”
“Oh good, here we go again. I swear if we had such things I would tape record it for you.” With a tired sigh, he said, “Your name is Dr. Emma Earl—”
“It is not. That was my maiden name.”
“Oh, and who do you think you’re married to? Dreyfus? The Sewer Rat?”
“My husband’s name was Dr. Randall Reed. Have you seen him?”
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis Page 180
