“Thanks.”
Becky had mostly stayed out of the way after that while Mrs. Scherr pestered the doctors and nurses about her son’s condition. She rose from Steve’s bedside and clucked her tongue. “Where is that nurse? Are they just going to leave him unattended?”
“Now, dear—”
She ignored her husband and stomped out of the room again. He followed after her, presumably to keep her from assaulting anyone. Becky let out a sigh that turned into a gasp when she saw the police officer in the doorway.
Even before the woman spoke, Becky knew who she was. They had met almost eighteen months ago. Then Officer Lois Early had been unconscious inside the remains of a wall in Emma’s old house in Parkdale. Emma had thrown Officer Early into the wall while under the influence of some kind of hypnosis the Black Dragoon had used on her. Mrs. Chiostro had taken Officer Early to the hospital; the witch had left her by the front door of the emergency room to avoid unnecessary questions. Mrs. Chiostro’s sister Sylvia had meanwhile driven Early’s car back into the city so nothing would lead back to Emma. The officer hadn’t ever reported anything, so Becky hoped that meant she didn’t remember the incident.
“You must be Becky,” Officer Early said. Even from up close it was uncanny how much Early resembled Emma’s dead mother. She had the same curly auburn hair and blue eyes. There was a hard edge to Officer Early’s voice Emma’s mother had never possessed. “You’re Mr. Scherr’s girlfriend, right?”
“Yes. We didn’t call the police.”
“Dr. Stanton called. It’s standard procedure in a case like this.”
“Oh.”
“Is there some reason you don’t want the police involved?”
“No. It just seems like a waste of time.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Officer Early took out a notepad and then sat down in the seat Mrs. Scherr had vacated. “That cut looks pretty nasty. How’d it happen?”
Becky told the policewoman an abridged version of what had happened. She didn’t mention anything about Marie’s eye or what she had done to Becky with it. The police would never believe a story like that.
“So you didn’t get a good look at the man with her?”
“No. It was too dark.”
“And this Marie Marsh, you know her?”
“Not really well. She works at the nursing home where my friend’s aunt lived. Park Glen Rest Home in Parkdale. I met her a couple of times there, but we never really hung out or anything.”
“You have any idea where she might have gone?”
“No. Like I said, we weren’t real close.”
“That van, did you get a look at the plate?”
“No. Maybe Steve did, but they knocked me out before I could see much.”
“And you don’t have any idea what they wanted him for?”
“They wanted some blood,” Steve whispered.
“Steve!” Becky jumped out of her chair and then leaned down to hug Steve. She made sure not to hug him too tightly. “Oh, thank God.”
“Hi,” he said. He flashed her a shy grin. “What did I miss?”
“Not much. Your parents are here somewhere. Your mom’s probably got a nurse in a headlock by now.”
“She always was like that.”
“Oh, and Officer Early is here to get your statement.”
The police officer took Steve’s unbandaged hand to give it a brief shake. “Hello, Mr. Scherr. I was just asking your girlfriend here some questions. Are you up to answering a few?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll try not to take too much of your time. I’m sure you need some rest. Now, you said they wanted your blood?”
“Yes.”
“What for?”
“They didn’t say. They stopped the van somewhere and then they got into an argument about what to do with me. The old guy wanted to kill me—”
“What old guy?”
“I didn’t get much of a look at him. He had a mustache and he talked like a British actor. He was going to kill me but the girl said they only needed a quart of blood. They argued a little, but she won.”
“I’m glad she did,” Becky said. She supposed Emma was right that Marie wasn’t a murderer, at least not yet.
“Then what happened?” Officer Early asked.
“The old guy took out a knife and a jar. One of those big glass ones like you’d put jam or something in. He cut my hand and they let the blood drain into the jar. I blacked out before they finished. Next thing I knew, I woke up in the park. I called Becky and her friend came to get me.”
“What friend would that be?”
“My friend Emma. She had to go to work,” Becky said.
“Where’s she work?”
“The Plaine Museum. She’s head of the geology department.” Becky hoped Officer Early didn’t go to the museum to follow up on that or else she might remember something from eighteen months ago.
“What is going on in here?” Mrs. Scherr bellowed from the doorway.
“Officer Lois Early. I was asking your son a few questions.”
“Get out of here this instant! Steven needs his rest. He’s a very sick boy.”
“Mom—”’
“Quiet, honey. Mama is taking care of this.”
Steve rolled his eyes. Becky squeezed the unbandaged ends of Steve’s left fingers. With Steve’s mother here to hover over him, Becky didn’t have much else she could do here. There was something more productive she could do. “I’ll be back soon. Try not to let her drive you too crazy.”
“I love you,” Steve whispered.
“I love you too.” Becky leaned down to kiss his forehead. She brushed past Steve’s parents as they argued with Officer Early and then she slipped out of the room.
***
As was usually the case, Becky found Mrs. Chiostro’s door already open for her when she arrived at the little house where the old witch lived with her sister. This time Mrs. Chiostro waited in the foyer to greet her.
“Hello, dear,” Mrs. Chiostro said. She gave Becky a hug. “How’s your friend?”
“He’s fine. Thanks to you and Emma.”
“I’m very glad. Why don’t we go into the kitchen to talk?”
Mrs. Chiostro led her through the parlor, which she’d turned into her sewing room. There were bits of half-finished dresses lying around, as well as bolts of cloth, spindles of thread, and a sewing machine that probably dated from the ‘30s. Mrs. Chiostro opened the door to the kitchen for Becky and motioned for her to have a seat. There was already a pot of tea and a plate of cookies on the table for them.
“So I bet you already know what I want, don’t you?”
“I have an idea,” Mrs. Chiostro said as she poured a cup of tea for each of them. Becky didn’t like tea, not the way Mrs. Chiostro and Emma did, but she took a sip anyway out of politeness. “I’m afraid there’s not a lot I can do to help you.”
“Oh. Don’t you have a crystal ball or something you can use to find out where she is?”
“I’m sorry, dear. Fortune telling is against the coven’s rules.” Mrs. Chiostro reached across the table to pat Becky’s hand. “It’s not entirely accurate in any case.”
“But I have to find Marie.”
The old witch nodded to her. “This young woman, she’s the one who works at the nursing home?”
“Yes.”
“There’s something special about her, isn’t there?”
“You could say that. She has this weird eye that…I don’t really know how to describe it. It’s like she could use it to read my mind.”
“I see. I believe your friend has a bit of the gift then.”
“What gift?”
“Magic, dear. Not in the same way as Sylvia and I, but she does have some ability that manifests itself in that eye of hers.”
“So she’s a witch?”
“Oh no, dear, I don’t think so. There are many forms of magic, some more powerful than others. I haven’t heard of anyone like your friend, though.” Mrs
. Chiostro stood up from her chair. She put a hand on Becky’s shoulder. “Come, dear, let’s go downstairs. I think Sylvia will have just the thing for you.”
“I don’t really need a haircut right now.”
“Don’t worry, dear, she’ll have something much better.”
They went down to the basement, which Sylvia had turned into a combination bunker/salon. There were rifles, machine guns, and even rocket launchers along the walls. Sylvia sold these on the black market, though she insisted she only sold them to people who would use them for a good cause. There was also an old barber’s chair with combs, scissors, and other styling accoutrements.
The witch herself sat at a worktable, hunched over a sword as she used a stone to sharpen its edges. “Sylvia, dear, Rebecca is here to see you,” Mrs. Chiostro called out.
Sylvia looked up from the sword and put down the stone. “That hair is looking on the long side. You want me to shorten it up for you?”
“Maybe later,” Becky said. She always felt shy around Sylvia; it was hard to feel comfortable around a woman who owned so many guns.
“I don’t suppose you’re looking to buy a gun either,” Sylvia said. “So what does that leave?”
“She needs some help finding a friend of hers,” Mrs. Chiostro said. “A young woman named Marie. It seems this girl has a bit of magic in her.”
Sylvia pushed herself up from the table. “I think I got just the thing for you. A little something I used back when I used to hunt demons for the coven.”
“Demons?”
“Demons, bogeymen, vampires, all kinds of annoying buggers,” Sylvia said as she opened the door to a metal vault in the center of the room. The vault contained numerous metal drawers, inside which were potions and magic ingredients, or that’s what Emma said. On one wall also hung an assortment of old weapons—bows, swords, spears, and so forth—Sylvia claimed came from ancient heroes.
Sylvia traced a finger along one row of drawers until she stopped at one at the bottom of the vault. She pulled the drawer open and then reached inside to pull out a slim leather box. “This is it,” she said.
Sylvia handed the box to Becky. Inside, Becky saw an ordinary silver necklace with a yellowed fang on the end of it. “What’s this?”
“That’s a dragon’s tooth,” Sylvia said.
Becky held the necklace up. The tooth wasn’t more than two inches long. “A dragon’s tooth?”
“A baby dragon. At least that’s what Mama said. Not really any way to find out anymore.”
“How’s this going to help find Marie?”
“I’ll show you,” Sylvia said. She went back into the vault and returned a minute later with a bronze dagger. “This belonged to the guy from The Odyssey.”
“I thought that was a book.”
“A book based on a true story,” Sylvia said. She held the dagger out towards Becky. As she did, the tooth at the end of the necklace came to life; it levitated in the air. It might have shot towards the dagger if Becky hadn’t grabbed the end of the chain first. “The dragon’s tooth is sensitive to magic. We’ve managed to calibrate it so it doesn’t react to our magic, though.”
“And this will lead me to Marie?”
“In a way. It’s not like a bloodhound. It’s not going to pick up the scent and tell you where to go. But if you get near her, the necklace will react.”
“Oh.”
Mrs. Chiostro put a hand on Becky’s shoulder. “I know this isn’t what you hoped for, but it should help you to find your friend. And I’m sure Sylvia can help you. She was a very good tracker in her day.”
“What do you mean ‘was?’” Sylvia said. “I’m as good as I ever was.”
“I only meant you haven’t done much of that sort of thing recently.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” Sylvia grumbled. She returned the dagger of Odysseus back to its place in the vault. She came out with a longer knife tucked in her belt. “Come on, let’s go find this bitch.”
Chapter 8
Emma kept the red armor on even after she emerged from the sewers. If she came across Marie and her friend, she didn’t want to be caught unprepared. There weren’t that many pedestrians in the industrial section of town anyway.
She had decided to resume her search in the industrial section because it made the most sense. Marie and her friend would want somewhere secluded, where no one would chance upon them. One of the abandoned factories in the industrial section of the city would provide the perfect cover.
Emma had spent quite a bit of time in the industrial section as the Scarlet Knight. Don Vendetta’s henchmen often used this area for shady dealings. Her first mission as the Scarlet Knight had been to rescue Percival Graves from the Black Dragoon in an old sausage factory nearby.
She parked her motorcycle beside the rusty gate of one old factory. She hopped over the fence with the boots of the armor. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, but she couldn’t take any chances. She had promised Becky she would find Marie and she intended to keep that promise.
She wrapped the cape around her as she neared the empty loading dock. With one hand she wrenched the door open. Rusty metal shrieked; from the amount of effort it required, Emma doubted the door had been opened recently. She let the cape drop; that shriek would have alerted anyone to her presence.
Short of a few of the Sewer Rat’s friends and some spiders, she didn’t find anyone inside the factory. She walked down the road to the next one and repeated the procedure. When that turned up nothing, she continued down the block. The only human she met was a homeless man asleep on a bed of rags.
After a few hours she lost track of how many factories she had gone through. They all blurred together in her mind. She finally sat down inside one of the lonely factories to rest. Maybe she was wrong. Marie and the man with her might have already left town; they might be in Canada or on their way to Mexico by now. Just like with French and Estima, it was futile to try and find two among eight million. All she could do was hope to stumble across something.
Even as she thought this, she looked out the window to see a woman walking by the factory’s gates. Though she had a kerchief over her hair and sunglasses on, Emma still recognized Constance Reuben, the ex-wife of Roy French. Why was she here? The industrial section was a long way from Westfield. It certainly didn’t seem like the kind of place a suburban housewife would go to run an errand—unless that errand was to meet her ex-husband.
Emma needed little time to catch up to Mrs. Reuben. She leaped out the second-story window of the factory; the cape slowed her descent. Mrs. Reuben hadn’t seen her yet. That was about to change.
She again used the boots to leap over the factory gate and came down about fifty feet behind French’s ex-wife. Logic dictated she should follow the woman to see where she was going. Instead, Emma grabbed the woman by the shoulder and tossed her against the fence.
“Hello Mrs. French,” Emma hissed.
“I’m not Mrs. French, not anymore,” Mrs. Reuben said.
“That’s right, you live out in the suburbs now with your new husband. Does he know you’re here?”
“No, of course not.” Mrs. Reuben reached to her purse. “Look, whatever you want, just take it and leave me alone. Please?”
“I want answers. What are you doing here?”
“I’m going to a job interview.”
“Where?”
“Gluck & Lehman. They need a new secretary.” Mrs. Reuben’s voice didn’t betray anything, but her eyes did. The way they glanced down at the pavement indicated she had lied. She had probably rehearsed this story to tell her husband. He might even fall for it, but Emma didn’t.
“What are you really doing here?”
“I told you—”
Emma slapped her. She did it as lightly as she could, but Mrs. Reuben’s knees still buckled. “Tell me the truth! What are you doing here? Did he ask to meet you? Do you know where he’s hiding?”
“I don’t know anything.”
E
mma slapped her again, this time hard enough to put the woman on all fours. “Maybe you think you’re protecting him, but you can’t. Don Vendetta’s got everyone on her payroll looking for him. If I can find you, so can one of them and they’re going to do a lot more than slap you. Understand?”
Mrs. Reuben sat up. Tears dripped down her cheeks. “Why should I tell you? So you can kill him?”
“No,” Emma said. She thought of her conversation with Mr. Graves. “I won’t kill him. I’ll turn him over to the police.”
“Same difference.”
“There are a few good cops on the force. They’ll make sure he gets to trial. That’s a lot better offer than Don Vendetta will give you.”
“Then he’ll die in prison. What difference does it make?” Mrs. Reuben started to sob. “I know Roy’s not a good man. But I still love him! You can’t ask me to hurt him.”
“If you really do love him, then help me save his life.”
Mrs. Reuben didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. Finally she said, “If I tell you, do you promise he won’t be killed?”
“I give you my word.”
She nodded. “He called me this morning. He’s scared. He asked me to buy a couple of bus tickets so him and Victor can get out of the city.” She reached into her purse and pulled out two tickets to Philadelphia. “He wanted me to go with him, but I can’t. I can’t leave Tim for him.”
Emma squatted down to look Mrs. Reuben in the eye. “Where did he tell you to meet him?”
“Gluck & Lehman, like I told you,” she said and then forced a smile. “I used to work there as a secretary, before they moved down south.”
When Emma put a hand on Mrs. Reuben’s shoulder this time she did so far more gently. “Then that’s where we’re going.” She helped the woman up and then wrapped the cape around herself. “I’ll be right behind you.”
***
The first stop Becky and Sylvia made was to Steve’s house to get his car. That would be a lot less conspicuous than witchcraft and a lot cheaper than a cab. She left a message with one of Steve’s roommates to let him know she’d borrowed the car and would return it later.
Since then they had spent three hours in a fruitless search of the city. “Agnes is right,” Sylvia said. “I’m out of practice. Of course it was a lot easier in the old days. Back then you had mostly dirt roads. That left a better trail to follow.”
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 34