Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call

by P. T. Dilloway

  “I suppose it would be, what with tomorrow.”

  Emma nodded and felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. It was still hard to think tomorrow she would marry Dan. “Daddy?”

  “What is it, sweetheart?”

  “Do you think I should marry Dan?”

  “Of course I do. He’s a good kid. A little rough around the edges sometimes, but he’s young. You both are.”

  “Too young to get married?”

  “Not at all. Your mother and I weren’t that much older when we got married.”

  “And you were absolutely sure you wanted to marry Mom?”

  “Well everyone has doubts. It’s only natural.”

  “You had doubts about Mom?”

  “I had doubts about me.” He waved at himself with one hand. “I’m not exactly Mr. Universe. I wasn’t rich like Dan either. And your grandparents didn’t roll out the welcome mat.”

  “Why not?”

  “Mostly the religious thing. Your grandparents were pretty old-school Catholics. They didn’t want your mom marrying some poor Jewish orphan.”

  “That’s terrible,” Emma said. Since her parents had died when she was so young, Emma had never heard this story before. She wondered if it were true in her world. “But at least Mom did marry you.”

  “That’s right. And I’m glad she did or we wouldn’t have you.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  “No problem, kiddo.”

  They stopped at St. James Episcopal in the Heights, not far from where Dan lived. Mom and Becky were already there with the minister. Becky was the first to see them come in. “There you two are. We thought maybe you were skipping town.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this,” Emma said.

  Becky took her arm and led her down a hallway. “Come on, you can change in the bathroom.”

  The dress they’d brought for her was dark red with gold trim. Emma had worn it to the opera with Dan in her timeline. Mrs. Chiostro had said the dress had once belonged to Clarissa Robinson, the former style icon of the city. Just like back then, the dress fit her perfectly. She stepped out of the stall and did a little turn for Becky.

  “That looks amazing,” Becky said. “Try not to get any gravy on it.”

  “I won’t.”

  Becky was dressed in a powder blue dress that revealed far more than Emma’s. She had a white cardigan sweater on as well. “I can’t wait to get this off,” Becky said. She flapped a sleeve of the sweater. “Mom insisted I wear it when we’re in church.”

  “I’m sure she means well.”

  “She’s worried I’ll distract the preacher.”

  “It is a little revealing.”

  “Sure, take her side.”

  “I was joking.”

  “Right.”

  Dan had joined Emma’s parents when they returned to the church. “What about the best man?” Reverend Mitchell asked.

  “He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Dan said.

  The front doors of the church opened but it wasn’t the best man. It was Aunt Gladys. She looked almost the same as Emma remembered from when she was a little girl, her aunt’s hair still red and her blue eyes clear. Aunt Gladys must have come to the church directly from the airport, as she still wore a T-shirt and shorts. “Now what’s all this about my niece getting married?” she asked loudly.

  “Aunt Gladys, you came!” Emma shouted. She crushed her aunt in a hug, as she remembered the last time she’d seen Aunt Gladys was to bury her. This Aunt Gladys was alive and very healthy.

  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She stroked Emma’s curly hair. “Look at you, so grown up now. Seems like just yesterday you were a wee thing.”

  She turned her attention to Dan. “This must be the handsome young man you’re marrying. I see you weren’t exaggerating in your letters. He is a dreamboat.”

  Emma’s face turned warm. She wondered what else she had written Aunt Gladys about Dan. He stuck out his hand for her to shake, but Aunt Gladys insisted on a hug. “No need to be so formal. Tomorrow you’ll be one of the family.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Gladys,” Dan said.

  “I think we’d better get things underway,” Mom said. “Daniel can fill the best man in later.”

  There wasn’t much to the rehearsal. Reverend Mitchell instructed them on where they would enter the church and in what order. He guided them to where they would stand, with Becky on one side and Aunt Gladys—who filled in for the best man—on the other of Dan and Emma. The reverend went over what they would say and then how they would leave.

  “That’s it?” Dan asked.

  “That’s it,” Reverend Mitchell said.

  “Piece of cake, right babe,” Dan said.

  “Yeah, piece of cake,” Emma echoed.

  She and Becky rode with Dan to a casual dining restaurant nearby for the rehearsal dinner. The hostess led them past tables of people Emma’s age in T-shirts and jeans who ate chicken wings and drank beer and other tables of slightly older people still in their button-down shirts, their ties discarded as they tried to unwind. The wedding party got a block of tables in the back of the restaurant, where they could celebrate in relative privacy. They sat in somewhat the same order they would be for the reception, with Dan, Emma, and Becky at one table and everyone else at the other tables.

  “You want to make a toast, babe?” Dan asked after they’d received glasses of white wine.

  Emma stood up and tried to think of what to say. “I guess I’d just like to thank everyone for coming here. It’s wonderful we can all be together like this, especially for such a happy occasion.”

  “Here here,” Aunt Gladys said. She downed her glass of wine in one swallow. Dan and Becky did the same. Emma only sipped at her wine, still unaccustomed to alcohol yet.

  She tried not to talk much; she preferred to observe the others while they ate, drank, and joked. She especially watched her parents, how close they sat to each other. At one point Daddy whispered something in Mom’s ear that made her blush. Emma also blushed as she imagined what her parents might get up to later.

  As she nibbled on a breadstick, she heard Becky say, “Mrs. Chiostro! You made it!”

  Mrs. Chiostro looked exactly as she did in Emma’s world. Emma wondered if she were also a witch here too. The old woman hugged Becky and then moved on to Emma. “Congratulations, dear,” she said. “I’m sure you and Daniel will be very happy.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Chiostro leaned in closer to whisper, “We need to talk, dear.”

  “Excuse me,” she said to Dan. “I need to use the little girl’s room.”

  She made her way to the bathroom; Mrs. Chiostro waited a discreet couple of minutes to join her. The old woman locked the bathroom door and then turned to Emma. “I see you’re enjoying yourself,” she said without preamble.

  “Did Marlin send you here?”

  “Not at all. I found an invitation in my parlor and thought I should pay my favorite customer a visit.”

  “But you are still you, right?”

  “Of course, dear. Whatever your friend altered, it wasn’t that far back.”

  “My friend? What do you mean?”

  “That young woman who attacked Rebecca’s boyfriend. The one with the unique ability.”

  “Marie? You’re saying Marie is responsible for this?”

  “I’m afraid so. We’re still not sure how she did it. Sylvia is out looking for her. Then perhaps we can get this all sorted out. It would be easier if you helped us.”

  Emma sagged against a counter. “You said she altered something?”

  “That’s our best guess. Your friend somehow altered the past. What we’re experiencing now is a different timeline, similar to our own but different in some ways.”

  Emma nodded as she thought of her parents and Aunt Gladys out there. “You want to find Marie and get her to change things back?”

  “Yes. If Sylvia does find her, it might be easier if you were there. She’s your friend;
she might listen to you.”

  “But if she changes things back, Mom and Dad will be dead. So will Aunt Gladys.”

  “I’m sorry, dear. I know that’s a terrible thing to ask of you, but we can’t let her fool around with the natural order of things. There’s no telling what damage she’s caused.”

  Emma considered this for a moment and then shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

  “I thought you might say that. What you should remember is those are not really your parents. That’s not really your aunt. That young man isn’t really Daniel. Not the ones you remember. Just as you aren’t really Emma Earl. Not this Emma Earl.”

  Emma thought of what she’d found out at the museum this morning. She wasn’t the same, that much was true. But what did it matter? Her parents and Aunt Gladys were alive and she would marry Dan tomorrow. If they weren’t exactly as she remembered, that was fine. “It’s close enough,” she said.

  “Very well, dear. We’ll have to handle this on our own.”

  “Do you have to? Whatever Marie changed, it doesn’t seem to be that drastic.”

  “There’s no way to know that,” Mrs. Chiostro said. She shook her head. “In any event, the coven’s instructions on this are very clear. We cannot allow anyone—especially a mortal—to disrupt the natural order of things.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “As I said, we’ll find Marie and then make her tell us what she did. After that, we’ll have to see.”

  “I understand.”

  Mrs. Chiostro put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about this, dear. I know how much you’ve missed your parents, but you have to let them go.”

  She shook Mrs. Chiostro’s hand away. “I can’t. I love them.”

  The old witch nodded to her. “If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

  “I won’t change my mind,” Emma said and then stomped out of the bathroom to rejoin her parents, Aunt Gladys, and Dan.

  ***

  As mystified as Veronica was by the television, she preferred to watch real life far more. She and Marie spent hours at the window; Veronica would point to something and Marie would identify it for her. “Those are all automobiles?” she asked Marie and pointed at a line of traffic on the street below.

  “That’s right. They come in all different shapes and sizes and colors, much more so than horses.”

  “What do you feed them?”

  “They’re not alive, not like horses. They’re machines, like the steamboat you rode on in St. Louis.”

  “So they run on steam?”

  “Actually they run on petroleum fuel or gasoline. It’s sort of like the kerosene in your lamps.”

  Veronica pointed then at a sidewalk. “Why are people dressed so strangely? Mama says girls shouldn’t wear trousers.”

  “A lot of things are different in the future. Girls and boys dress very similarly now.”

  “Can I have a pair of trousers?”

  “Of course you can.”

  “And one of those queer blouses?”

  “A T-shirt and yes you can.”

  “When?”

  “In a little while. We want to make sure you’re healthy before you go outside.”

  “But I feel healthy.”

  “I know. Maybe tomorrow, all right?”

  Veronica sighed at that. “All right.”

  “In the meantime, how about we try some 21st Century food?”

  “More crackers?”

  “No. It’s called pizza.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s Italian. It’s sort of like a pie, only it’s filled with tomato sauce, cheese, and pepperoni.”

  “It sounds odd.”

  “But it tastes very good. It’s my favorite food in the whole world. And best of all, you don’t even need to leave home to get it. They bring it to you.”

  “They do?”

  “That’s right. We just have to call them on the telephone and they’ll bring it to us. Come on, I’ll show you.” Marie took Veronica over to the telephone. She held the receiver to the little girl’s ear.

  “What’s that humming sound?”

  “That’s a dial-tone. It tells you the phone is working. Now, we dial the numbers with this wheel here and wait for them to answer.” Marie held the receiver down and this time kept it between them so they could both hear. When someone answered, Marie said, “Hi, I’d like to order one medium pepperoni pizza and a two-liter of Coke.”

  “What’s a two-liter of Coke?”

  “It’s something you drink.”

  “That for carry-out or delivery?”

  “That’s for delivery.” Marie gave the man her address.

  “Be fifteen dollars. About forty-five minutes for delivery.”

  “That’s fine. Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” Veronica echoed.

  Marie hung the phone up. “Now we wait for them to bring it here.”

  “Where was that man at?”

  “I think about five blocks from here.”

  “And he really could hear us through that machine?”

  “That’s right. There are wires from the phone that connect us and him and everyone else in the city.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. And now there are some machines that can talk to each other without wires. Those are called cellular phones.”

  “Can I talk to Mama and Papa on the telephone?”

  “I’m afraid not. You can only talk to other people here in the future.”

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll talk to them soon.” Marie smiled at Veronica and then said, “Come on, let’s go back to the window. We might even be able to see the man with our pizza.”

  “All right.”

  About forty minutes later there was a knock at the door. “Is that him?” Veronica asked. She bounced up and down a little.

  “It should be.” Marie went over to the door. Just to be sure, she peeked through the peephole. It wasn’t a man but a girl with curly dark red hair. She had to be about Marie’s age or perhaps younger; pimples still dotted her face.

  “Someone here order a pizza?” the girl asked.

  “We did! We did!” Veronica shouted.

  “Stand back, sweetheart. Let me open the door,” Marie said. She opened the door for the delivery girl.

  “That’ll be fifteen dollars,” the girl said.

  Marie gave the girl a twenty. “Keep the change.”

  “Thanks. Here’s your pie.” She thrust the box into Marie’s hands. Then she reached into the bag for the Coke.

  Except it wasn’t a two-liter of Coke she removed; it was a very old revolver. The delivery girl’s face changed into that of an old woman. “Not smart to hide out in a place registered to you. All I needed to do was look in a phone book.”

  “Marie, what’s going on?”

  “Go sit down on the bed, sweetheart. I’ll handle this.”

  “Why don’t both of you go sit on the bed?” the old woman said. She waited until Marie and Veronica had stepped back before she came inside and closed the door.

  “What do you want?” Marie asked. “Are you a police officer?”

  “Not quite.”

  “If you want money, I don’t have much, but you can take what you want.”

  “I look like a burglar to you?”

  Marie shook her head. This cleared the hair away from her special eye. She turned it on the old woman. “Your name is Sylvia Joubert. You’re a witch. You and your sister, Agnes.”

  “Marie, I’m scared.”

  “Get behind me, Veronica.”

  “So it looks like Agnes was right about you. You do have a gift. You going to tell my fortune now?”

  “No, I can’t see the future.”

  “Too bad. I was hoping you’d tell me some lucky numbers.”

  Marie looked deeper into the witch. “You’re a very sad woman. When you were a little girl you had a friend named Henri. You two were
best friends. You wanted to marry him, but you couldn’t. The other witches wouldn’t let you.”

  “Shut up!” the witch said, but the menace was gone from her voice.

  “You were going to give up everything so you could marry him. But when you went to tell him, he was gone. He went off to fight in a war.”

  The witch’s hand began to tremble. The gun fell from her hand; Marie caught it before it could hit the floor. Tears flowed from the old witch’s green eyes. The rest of her face reverted back to that of the sixteen-year-old she’d been when Henri had died. She whispered, “Oh, Henri. I’m so sorry.”

  “You looked all over for him. Finally you found him in a farmer’s barn. He had been shot. You couldn’t save him.”

  The witch dissolved into a heap on the floor and sobbed. Veronica stared at her for a moment and then looked up at Marie. “What’s wrong with her, Marie?”

  “She’s really sad right now. Come on, we need to get out of here.”

  “But—”

  Marie picked Veronica up and ran.

  ***

  After days without sleep and almost without food, the Watchmaker had nearly interpreted the book. As he had long suspected, the book contained secrets lost millennia ago thanks to the meddlers of the church and the coven. The last pages were the most useful. With them he could reopen the gateway. Or rather with them and Marie Marsh.

  He had hoped the girl’s usefulness would be at an end once he had the book. Once he read it, he realized this was not the case. Only someone with her power could reopen the gateway. Long ago it might have been possible for most anyone to do it, but they had become so scattered and diluted over the last three thousand years that they would now have to rely on a human girl who was little more than a child.

  The Watchmaker groaned as he stood up. He went to the window and strained to get it open. The sooner he could discard this feeble old man’s body, the better. He took in a few breaths of stagnant air and then whistled three shrill tones.

  Ravens were not common in Rampart City, which made it easy to spot the messenger as it swooped down. The bird let out a shriek as it came down to land on the windowsill. It flapped its wings for a moment before it went still. Its beady eyes stared up at the Watchmaker.

  “The time is almost at hand,” the Watchmaker said. “First we need to find the one named Marie Marsh. Spread the message. Marsh is to be taken alive to the safe house. She’ll have a child named Veronica with her. If Marsh won’t come, then take the child from her. That will ensure her cooperation.”