“I suppose you’re right. I wish I knew what to do about him. He’s not going to surrender and if I can’t kill him—”
“You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure something out.”
There was a knock on the door then. Becky stood up to answer it. Emma thought at first it was the witches, although they could have vanished themselves into the apartment if they wanted. She thought of the police officer she had injured; Emma hoped it wasn’t Detective Donovan here to arrest her.
Then she heard his voice and knew it was someone even worse than Donovan. “Did Emma ever come home?” Dr. Dreyfus asked Becky.
“No, I’m afraid not,” Becky said. “She had to go to the hospital.”
“The hospital? Is she hurt?”
“Not her. Her aunt fell in the shower. They think she might have broken her hip.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. What room is her aunt in?”
“She’s not having any visitors right now. Just family.”
“I see. Maybe I could send some flowers—” he stopped. He probably remembered Emma was allergic to flowers, “or a card or something.”
“They might be moving her out of the intensive care soon.” Becky cleared her throat. “Why don’t you send a card here and I’ll make sure Emma gets it? Or you could give it to her at work.”
“Sure. That makes sense.” Though Emma couldn’t see Dr. Dreyfus, she could hear the disappointment in his voice. “If you talk to her, could you let her know I came by?”
“I will.”
The door shut with a soft click, but to Emma it sounded like the slamming of a coffin lid. Their date had gone so badly and then she had disappeared and now she had her friend making up phony excuses for her. Dr. Dreyfus must think she didn’t want to see him.
She closed her eyes and focused on rolling her weakened body off the bed. She hit the floor with a thud that brought Becky running. Emma tried to stand, but her legs were still too weak to get her upright. She gave up and concentrated instead on crawling forward by using her elbows like ski poles to propel herself.
“What are you doing?” Becky shouted. She bent down to try and grab Emma, but Emma swatted at her hands. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I have to stop him. I can’t let him go.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Dan. He’s not going to come back.”
“Emma—”
“He’s going to think I dumped him.”
“He’s not going to think that. Even if he does, you can explain it to him. He’ll understand.”
Becky tried again to pick Emma up off the floor. This time Emma brought her leg around to kick her best friend in the shin. It wasn’t a strong kick, enough so she could squirt free and propel herself into the hallway. She fixed her eyes on the front door; she willed herself to get there. Dan would probably already be gone, but maybe he hadn’t left the building yet. Maybe he hoped she would come after him—
Something heavy pinned her to the floor. When she felt warm breath on her ear, she realized Becky lay on top of her. “Get off me!” Emma shouted. She tried to move forward, but it was impossible. She was pinned like one of the butterflies she had studied in high school. “Becky, please, you have to let me go after him. I have to stop him.”
“You’ll see him again.”
“I will, but he won’t want to see me anymore.” Emma tried in vain again to free herself. “Becky, please, I can’t let him go away. I love him!”
As soon as she said these words, Emma’s body went numb. Not because of the armor bonding with her or because Becky lay on her but because of the implication of what she had blurted out. “I love him,” she whispered.
Becky finally rolled off of her and then took Emma into her arms. “Are you sure about that, kid?”
Emma thought of the moment she had first seen Dan at the museum, how she had melted when he smiled at her. A part of her had known back then, but the rest of her had now figured it out. “Yes. I’m sure.”
Becky hugged her. “That’s great, kid. I’m happy for you.”
“Then you have to take me down to see him. I can’t let him go.”
“Emma, please, be reasonable. You can’t go to see him like this.”
Emma thought of her strange gold eyes and her nearly-crippled body. How would she explain all of that to him? Then how would she explain once she recovered? “I guess you’re right,” she said. “But I can’t let him go.”
“You’ll see him at the museum. You can make it up to him then.” Becky stroked Emma’s hair and said, “I’m sure he feels the same way about you. He’ll understand.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.” Becky hefted both of them up. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed. You need your rest.”
“All right.” As they started back to the bedroom, Emma said, “I’m sorry I kicked you.”
“It’s fine. I understand.” Becky smiled at her. “My little girl is in love.”
After she had settled onto the bed and Becky left her to fix another bowl of soup, Emma whispered, “I love you, Dan Dreyfus.” Then she closed her eyes and fell asleep with a smile on her face.
***
By six o’clock Emma had endured two more painful changes. There was some blue around her pupils, though still a fat ring of gold in each eye. But with the armor’s power dissipating and a hearty lunch delivered from a nearby Chinese restaurant, Emma could stand up on her own. She managed to make it to the bathroom by holding on to the wall for support and then went promptly back to bed.
The problem was she had nothing to do. Becky wouldn’t let her read anything; she thought that too strenuous for Emma’s mind at the moment. Emma listened to the tapes of her mother playing at the opera house, but once those ran out she was again left with little to do but stare at the walls and think about Dan.
She tried to imagine the conversation she would have with him whenever she went back to the museum. No matter how she tried it, whenever she got up to the part where she said she loved him, things went south. In some versions she chickened out and asked to remain friends. In others he said hurtful things that left her in tears. None of her imagined conversations wound up with them kissing passionately like An Affair to Remember.
Becky sat down on the edge of the bed again to look into Emma’s eyes. “No changes yet?”
“Not since the last time. I hope it isn’t done yet.”
“It’s going to take time. That’s what the witches say.”
“I guess they would be the experts.”
Becky smiled and patted Emma’s knee. “I could bring the television in here. That wouldn’t be too stressful for you.”
“It’s fine.”
“How about a newspaper? But just the sports and comics, nothing too strenuous.”
“That would be good. Thank you.”
“And I’ll bring you a sandwich too. You have to keep your strength up.”
“Thanks.”
Becky came back about five minutes later and set down two sections of the Times in front of Emma. “If you need anything else, you let me know.” Becky patted Emma’s shoulder before she retreated from the room, though Emma knew she wouldn’t go far.
After she breezed through the comics, Emma turned to the crossword puzzle in the back. The Rampart City Times crossword was easy enough that she could solve it in five minutes, which was actually slower than usual. As she filled in the last box, she noticed something odd about today’s puzzle. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered.
Scattered around the puzzle were the words, “Girl,” “Red,” “Armor,” “Plastic,” “Hippo,” “Midnight,” “Don,” and “Vendetta.” When put together they were an invitation for the girl in red armor to meet Don Vendetta at the Plastic Hippo at midnight. Obviously the girl in red armor would have to be the Scarlet Knight, whom Don Vendetta had seen only briefly on the roof of the opera house. Why would Don Vendetta, the most notorious criminal in the city, want
to meet with her?
The obvious thought was that it was a trap. The Scarlet Knight would probably be greeted by a number of the don’s bodyguards. Or it could be a trap set by the Black Dragoon to try and draw her back out into the open and finish her off. The smart thing to do would be not to go, to ignore the message.
Yet there was another possibility for the message. The old expression was, “my enemy’s enemy is my friend.” If the Black Dragoon was after Don Vendetta to take over her rackets, then the mobster might feel the only one who could help was the Scarlet Knight. Since she hadn’t been around for the whole fight, Don Vendetta hadn’t seen what had happened to Emma, probably didn’t know the Scarlet Knight couldn’t fight a troop of Girl Scouts, let alone the Black Dragoon right now.
She made sure Becky wasn’t coming down the hallway and then rolled out of bed. She used the wall for support and stumbled over to the closet. The armor was still in there, hidden beneath Emma’s quilt. At the moment the armor was mostly gray with blotches of red that looked like bloodstains. The plume of the helmet, gloves, and cape were more of a pastel yellow as well. But it wasn’t like she was going to hug Don Vendetta. She could wear the helmet and cape to conceal her identity and hear what Don Vendetta had to say. If it were a trap, the cape would hopefully work enough for her to escape.
When she heard Becky coming down the hallway, Emma put the quilt back over the armor and then collapsed onto her bed. She snatched up the newspaper and pretended to read about last night’s Rampart City Knights baseball game. “How are you doing?” Becky asked.
“I’m fine.”
“You need anything else?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Okay,” Becky said. She took the glass and plate from the nightstand. “You holler if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Emma hated to keep things from her best friend, but she already knew what Becky would say. Becky would tell her she was too weak to go out. She should stay home and continue to recover. Whatever Don Vendetta wanted could wait until another time. All good and valid points, but Emma needed to go. She needed to know what the don did about the Black Dragoon. This might be her only chance to find out.
She tossed the newspaper aside and then lay down on the bed. If she was going out tonight, she needed to save her strength, what little she had.
***
She went through another change about three hours later. Though much of the armor’s power had dissipated, the pain was still as severe as ever. Emma felt Becky hold her down on the bed to keep her from falling onto the floor. After a minute the gold haze before her eyes dimmed and she saw Becky looking into her eyes.
“How is it?” Emma asked.
“You’re almost there.”
“Thanks.” She rolled onto her side to face the wall and pulled the covers over her head. Becky took the hint and turned off the light so Emma could sleep.
She napped until eleven, at which point she began to make her escape. This last change had given her a bit more strength, so when she stood up her legs didn’t feel so rubbery. She still held on to the wall for balance over to the closet. Then she took the quilt out of the closet. She folded it up and laid it across the mattress to simulate a body. With the covers pulled up all the way, Becky shouldn’t be able to tell the difference right away. Emma hoped it would be long enough for her to get down the fire escape and out of the apartment.
She needed a full five minutes to get into her running clothes; she had to stop to catch her breath with each article of clothing as if she were ninety instead of nineteen. When she finished, she stuffed the helmet and cape into her old backpack. She didn’t want anyone to see these until she got to the Plastic Hippo.
With the backpack over her shoulder, she paused to listen for Becky. Her friend was in the living room with the evening news on, probably waiting to see if there was anything about what had happened in Parkdale. Emma paused for a moment; she knew how angry Becky would be if she found out. Her friend had been so kind to her already; she didn’t deserve this. But there was more at stake here than Becky’s feelings. The Black Dragoon was still on the loose and she had to stop him.
She stepped out on the fire escape and then made her way down to the ground. As with her clothes, she needed to rest at each landing, her breath and strength coming back slowly. Each time she looked back up towards her window, but she didn’t hear Becky screaming for her—yet. She leaned against the wall of the building and then set out to find the Plastic Hippo.
The cab she managed to flag down was driven by an old man who gave her a skeptical look when she said her destination. “Why a sick little girl want to go there?”
“I’m not sick!” she said. She folded her arms across her chest and said, “My mom works there. I need to find her. It’s important.”
“Don’t get pissy, young lady,” the old man said. “Unless you want to walk.”
She didn’t have the strength to argue and instead put her head against the window to take a nap. She opened her eyes to find the cabbie shaking her. She blinked a few times and then looked around. “Are we there?”
“We’re there. I think I should take you to the hospital instead.”
“No, I’ll be fine. Thanks.” Despite that, she accepted a hand to get out of the cab. She stared up at the neon hippopotamus, her resolve weakening.
“You want me to wait here?” the cabbie asked.
“No,” she said, “this could take a while.”
She tried to pay him, but he refused. “Keep it, kid. You look out for yourself, hear?”
“Thanks.” She flashed him a smile and then staggered into the alley. Once the cab had pulled away, she knelt down beside a Dumpster and then opened her backpack. She wrapped the cape around her body and then put the helmet on her head. There was no current of electricity to make her feel like anything other than a little girl playing dress-up. With a sigh she started towards the side door.
The door was unlocked, which she didn’t know whether to take as a bad sign or not. There weren’t any guards posted along the narrow hallway either that led from the side door to a curtain of silver streamers. She paused at these. There was still time for her to turn back and forget about this. Maybe Becky wouldn’t have noticed her absence yet.
No, she wasn’t going to quit now. She pushed the streamers aside and stepped through them—onto a stage. Emma hadn’t been inside a strip club before, but she knew what the poles on the stage were for. Clearly she had come in at the wrong spot.
She tried to turn around, but was blinded by a bright yellow light. She thought for a moment she might be going through another change at the worst possible moment, but no pain accompanied this. She realized by the warmth of the light it was a spotlight shining in her face. She spun around and collapsed onto her knees. Still in this awkward position, she heard Don Vendetta say, “Nice of you to show up.”
Emma’s vision cleared enough that she could see the don sitting at the bar with a tropical beverage in hand. Other than a few bodyguards scattered around, the club was empty. Emma crawled over to the end of the catwalk, where the don called for her to stop. “That’s far enough,” the don said.
Emma tried to deepen her voice, though it sounded as if she were choking on a bone. “Why did you want to meet me?”
“I think we can do business.”
“I don’t do business with criminals.”
“That’s a pretty short-sighted attitude. Then again that’s why you’re the hero, isn’t it?” The don put down her drink and smiled. “That black bozo said he’d gotten rid of you, but I knew he was lying. He’s not as tough as he wants me to think he is.”
“Then why do you need me? Can’t you deal with him yourself?”
“You are a feisty one, I’ll give you that. I could use a girl like you.”
“I don’t work for garbage like you.”
The don tsked and shook her head. “I think if we put our heads together we can come up with a way to st
op him.”
“What if I don’t want your help?”
“I think you need my help. You see, I know what he’s planning. I’m the one who made the plan for him.” The don took another sip of her drink and then continued. “He thought he could bully the whole world into worshipping him. Such a man that way. What he needed was a woman’s subtlety and cunning.”
“What did you tell him to do?”
“Before I tell you, I want us to come to an understanding. I’ll help you dispose of this nut and you promise not to interfere with my business.”
“I can’t make a promise like that.”
“Really? I’m sure two reasonable adults like us can come up with some kind of arrangement, can’t we?”
Before Emma could answer, she was blinded again. Not by a spotlight, but by a flash of gold light. No, not now, she thought. She let out a scream and then thrashed around on her stomach.
She stayed in that position until a pair of beefy hands turned her over. She tried to bat his hands away, but the change and her trip to the club had left her too exhausted to put up much of a fight. His hands gripped the sides of the helmet to pry it off—
The doors to the club burst open. She figured it was probably the Black Dragoon; he must have seen the code in the newspaper as well. To her relief it was someone much better than the Black Dragoon.
Sylvia stood in the doorway with a machine gun cradled in her hands. She fired a burst over the head of the bodyguard trying to take off Emma’s helmet. He dropped down next to her on the stage. Don Vendetta dove behind the bar, where she peeked over the top with her pistol at the ready. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m this girl’s aunt,” Sylvia snarled. “It’s past her bedtime.”
“It’s going to be your bedtime if you don’t get out of here.”
Sylvia only shrugged at this. “I gave you a chance to do it the easy way. Now we do it the fun way.” With that she pulled a grenade from out of her pocket. Emma braced for an explosion, but only a plume of red smoke burst from the grenade.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 21