Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call

by P. T. Dilloway

  “Who’s going to stop us?” the Watchmaker asked. “The police? They haven’t made much of an impact so far. And you, young lady, are in no shape to kill a housefly let alone a city full of demons.”

  “Marie, don’t let them do this.”

  “I don’t have a choice,” Marie said. “I won’t let you hurt Veronica.”

  “I know you love Veronica, but this isn’t right.”

  The demons dragged her up a set of stairs. “Take her upstairs. Marie can find Mrs. Dreyfus something more appropriate to wear.”

  The demons didn’t bother to lift Emma up enough so her feet would clear the steps. Her feet thumped against each step; she groaned with pain each time, much to their amusement. “Are we hurting you, Granny?” one sneered.

  They finally reached the top of the stairs and then carried Emma down a hallway. One of them opened a door while the other hurled Emma to the floor as if she were a sack of grain. She landed hard enough that she heard something snap and then felt a sharp pain in her left hip.

  She couldn’t keep track of how long she lay on the floor in a haze of agony. Finally a warmer, non-clawed hand helped Emma onto a bed. Marie’s face came close enough for Emma to make it out. “I’m sorry about this, Emma. I promise when the Watchmaker’s finished, I’ll make you younger. Not twenty-one again, but maybe sixty-five or so. Young enough that you can still get around on your own.”

  “Marie, this is madness.”

  “Here, I’ll fix that hip for you.” A few moments later, the pain in Emma’s hip faded. “Better?”

  “Marie—”

  “I’m sorry, Emma. I wish there was another way.” Marie patted Emma’s shoulder. “You stay right here. I’m going to find you something to wear.”

  Emma heard Marie open a closet door. Emma tried to push herself off the bed, but her muscles were too weak and her bones too brittle. After a minute she felt as exhausted as if she’d climbed ten flights of stairs.

  Something warm and heavy draped over Emma’s shoulders. She raised one arm to see a white cardigan sweater. “I found some slacks for you too,” Marie said. “They might be a little big.”

  The slacks were harder to get on. Emma had to lie back on the bed like a baby as Marie pulled up the pants to her midsection. “There, now you look very pretty.” Marie pressed something into Emma’s hand. She realized with a start that it was a black umbrella, still folded up. “I couldn’t find a cane or walker, so I thought this might work to give you some support.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you,” Emma grumbled. With the umbrella in one hand and Marie on her other side, Emma got to her feet. She was able to toddle forward a step at a time.

  By the time she reached the bedroom door, Emma needed to rest. Marie patted Emma’s hair and in a too-chipper voice said, “That’s fine, Mrs. Dreyfus. You’re doing great.”

  “Marie, stop treating me like I’m an old lady at the nursing home.”

  “But you are an old lady, silly,” Marie said.

  A few moments later, Emma got a good look at herself in a handheld mirror. She looked old enough to be her own grandmother, or possibly even great-grandmother. She held up a liver-spotted hand to touch her wrinkled cheek. As she thought of what her parents or Dan would say, she began to cry.

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Dreyfus. You’re still very pretty.”

  “Why are you patronizing me like this, Marie?”

  Even with her feeble eyes, Emma could see Marie blush. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help you adjust.”

  “I don’t want to adjust! I want to go home to my husband and—” she had to pause to cough until phlegm sprayed from her mouth, “my parents and my sister!”

  “I know, but you can’t. Not right now. In time—”

  “In time they’ll be dead! He’ll kill them. Him and those demons of his. Don’t you understand that?”

  “I think you’d better lie down and get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  “I don’t want to lie down and sleep!” Emma tried to swat at Marie with the umbrella, but instead she collapsed onto the floor. Her hip broke again; another wave of pain ran through her. She sobbed on the floor until she finally blacked out.

  ***

  Marie wrestled Emma onto the bed and then allowed herself to cry. She hated to see Emma so frail. When Marie looked at Emma with her special eye, she still saw the angels inside of her. She was a good person, too good to deserve tortured like this.

  Still, Marie knew she couldn’t let Emma interfere with the Watchmaker. She still didn’t know what the Watchmaker intended to do, but without the Watchmaker and his demons, Marie would be unable to keep Veronica here. Then Veronica would die again.

  After she settled Emma into bed and fixed the old woman’s hip again, Marie went into Veronica’s room. The little girl was asleep. She looked so peaceful now, her body healthy and robust again. Marie couldn’t resist the urge to kiss Veronica on the forehead.

  “Well, you’ve certainly realized your potential,” the Watchmaker said from behind her.

  “I did what I had to so I could save her.”

  “Yes, of course. I think there’s something you need to see, my dear. Follow me.”

  Marie didn’t want to leave Veronica or Emma, but she knew she didn’t have much choice in the matter. She followed him down the hallway and then down to the first floor. They passed some of the Watchmaker’s demons and a few of his human minions along the way. He motioned her into a study with walls lined by books. On the desk lay a single book, the one the Watchmaker had taken from the past.

  “Come, my dear, sit behind the desk. Tell me what’s in the book.”

  Marie sat in the leather armchair behind the desk. She looked down at the book. “The pages are blank.”

  “Try to read it with your other eye.”

  Marie brushed the hair away from her special eye again. She stared down at the pages. Symbols came to life, all of them written in dark red ink that glittered like the pentagram in the Watchmaker’s vault. She recognized some of the symbols from the floor of the Watchmaker’s vault. “What is this?”

  “It’s sort of a tutorial. Or perhaps a history book. It describes how we can reopen the door to our world.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Many years ago, the gateway between our world—the dark pit as your priests would say—and your world was sealed. For millennia we’ve sought a way to reopen it. But without the book of lore it was impossible.”

  “That’s the book you took from the past?”

  “Yes, but as I’ve learned, even with the book it would be quite impossible. There’s one ingredient we’ve been lacking until now.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You, my dear. You truly are a rare and magnificent talent. It makes me proud to see how you’ve grown.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You are the key to reopening the gateway, Marie. That eye of yours. It’s the only thing that can open the gateway.”

  “What happens then?”

  “Then the rest of my friends will return here.”

  “So you can kill everyone?”

  “Not everyone. Only those who oppose us.”

  “Like Emma?”

  “No, Mrs. Dreyfus is much better off as she is. Once we’ve eliminated all resistance, we can dump her in a nursing home where she belongs.”

  “What about Veronica?”

  “We have no desire to kill children. Unless it becomes necessary.”

  Marie stared down at the floor. A chill ran through her. She truly had made a pact with the devil. “What if I can’t do it?”

  “Of course you can do it. You’re only beginning to understand your power. In time, you’ll become the greatest demon of all, even greater than myself.”

  “I’m not a demon!”

  The Watchmaker came over to kneel before Marie. He looked into her eyes—or rather, her eye. “You never knew your father, did you?�
�

  “No.”

  “That’s because he died shortly after you were conceived. I should know—I killed him.”

  “What?”

  The Watchmaker shrugged. “He had no further use to me. So I had him run off the Tenth Street Bridge.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Even without the book, I knew we needed someone of exceptional power. But we demons can’t reproduce, not like humans.”

  “Are you saying…are you my father?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I possessed the man who donated his sperm for the cause.” The Watchmaker tapped Marie’s left temple. “That’s where that came from.”

  “I don’t believe you!” Tears came to both of Marie’s eyes.

  “The proof is right here, in the book,” the Watchmaker said. “As you saw, only a demon’s eyes can read the pages. An eye like yours.”

  “No, that’s not true. You’re lying!”

  She tried to run, but the Watchmaker seized her with both hands. “Marie, it is true. You should be overjoyed. All these years you’ve wondered who you are, what you are. Those accursed nuns filled you with all those lies, but now you can see the truth. You’re one of us. Not just one of us, but the greatest of us. When we open the gateway, all of this will be yours. You’ll be a queen, Marie. And Veronica will be your little princess. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted all this time?”

  “I just wanted to save her.”

  “You have. And when you unlock your full potential, she’ll never suffer again.”

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because you have to understand, Marie. You still think you’re one of them, but you’re not. To them, you’re just a freak. They locked you up in a mental institution. Why? Because you saw the truth. You saw what animals they are and they imprisoned you for it. Then they put you in that halfway house and forced you into a menial job to clean bedpans and hand out pills. All they’ve ever done is try to keep you down. But now that you know the truth, now you can embrace your destiny. We can rule over these animals, together. Don’t you understand?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s a lot to take in. Why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest? Think about it. In time you’ll realize the truth.”

  The Watchmaker helped Marie up. She toddled away as if she were as old as Emma at the moment. She made it up to the second floor and then locked herself in the bathroom, so Veronica wouldn’t have to see or hear her cry.

  ***

  When she awoke, Emma hoped to find herself in bed with Dan, or at least his hospital room. As soon as she felt the aches in her feeble limbs, she knew she was still in the Watchmaker’s house. “Good morning, Mrs. Dreyfus,” Marie said, though she didn’t sound so chipper now.

  Something cold and heavy pressed against Emma’s eyes. She realized it was a pair of glasses. She opened her eyes to find she could see at least ten feet in front of her before everything became blurry now. “I know they aren’t the right prescription, but they should be a little better,” Marie explained. “They also found one of these for you.”

  Marie gestured to a walker beside the bed. “Now you’ll be able to get around on your own without that silly umbrella.”

  “Splendid,” Emma grumbled.

  Marie helped Emma off the bed. Emma reached out to grab the walker. She sagged against it, but managed to stay upright. She wasn’t much faster than with the umbrella, but at least she didn’t need to lean against Marie as she hobbled across the bedroom.

  The Watchmaker’s minions had found a floral print housedress Marie helped Emma into, followed by the white cardigan. Between the clothes, the glasses, and the walker, Emma looked like a normal old woman. Even her own mother probably wouldn’t recognize her now.

  “Now what?” Emma asked. “Time for a nap?”

  “No, silly. I want you to meet Veronica. I think you’ll like her. And I think she’ll like you. It’s been so lonely for her. All she’s had is me and that doctor. She could use some more company. As far as she knows, you’re my grandmother, all right?”

  “You’re going to lie to a child?”

  “It’s for her own good,” Marie said.

  “Marie—”

  “Stop trying to make me seem like a monster! I’m not! I’m not.”

  Emma prepared herself for Marie to unleash that eye of hers again to make Emma even older, perhaps a pile of dust. Marie’s hand rested on her temple, as if to brush back her hair, but then she lowered it. “I’m sorry,” Marie said. “It’s been a very difficult time.”

  “No kidding.”

  It was a slow walk down the hall to another bedroom. While Emma rested, Marie tapped on the door. “Veronica? Are you awake?”

  “Marie?” a tiny voice said.

  “It’s me, sweetheart. I brought someone to meet you.”

  “Oh boy!”

  The door opened a few seconds later. A plump little girl with dark curly hair stood in the doorway. Her eyes brightened as she looked around, but immediately her mood turned somber as she saw Emma. “Who’s this?”

  “This is my grandma, Mrs. Dreyfus,” Marie said. “She’s come to visit and to help me look after you.”

  “Oh. Hello,” Veronica said. She actually curtsied in her pink nightgown to Emma.

  Marie tousled the girl’s hair. “You don’t need to be so formal, silly.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. Now come on, help me get Mrs. Dreyfus to a seat. Then I’ll leave you two alone while I fetch some breakfast.”

  Veronica took one of Emma’s hands to pull her into the room. Emma had to struggle not to topple over. She wanted to sob at the thought a little girl could outmuscle her right now. “Careful, sweetheart. Mrs. Dreyfus is very old. She can’t move so well anymore.”

  “I’m sorry,” Veronica said. “How old are you?”

  “That’s not a very polite question, young lady,” Marie snapped.

  “It’s all right,” Emma said. She forced herself to smile. “I’m very, very old, dear. Almost as old as dirt.”

  The little girl giggled at this. She looked down at Emma’s hands. “What are all those blue lines?”

  “Those are veins. For my blood.”

  “Why doesn’t my hand look like that?”

  “It will when you’re an old woman like me.”

  Emma finally made it over to an armchair, where she gratefully plopped down. Little Veronica snatched a doll from off her bed. “This is Lucy. Isn’t she pretty?”

  “Very pretty. Like you.”

  “Mama said my grandmother made her for me when I was a baby.”

  “Oh, I see. That was very nice of her.”

  Marie cleared her throat. “Since you two are getting along so well, I’ll go down and get breakfast.”

  Once Marie had gone, Veronica threw herself on the bed. She played with her doll’s black hair and stared at Emma. “Did you make Marie a doll when she was a baby?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “I never saw my grandmother. Mama said she went to Heaven when I was a baby.”

  “I’m sorry.” Emma cleared her throat. “Where is Mama?”

  “At home. Marie says I can see her when I get better.”

  “Better? From what?”

  “I had a fever. I felt a little better and Marie took me to see the angels, but then I got sick again and she took me here and this ugly doctor gave me some medicine. It just made me more ill. Then Marie fixed me.”

  “She did? How?”

  “With her pretty eye.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “But I feel very strange.” Veronica flapped a sleeve of her nightgown, which was too long for her arms. “Before she fixed me, my nightgown fit, but now it’s too big.”

  “Really? How old are you, Veronica?”

  “Seven, but I don’t feel seven anymore.”

  Emma nodded. If she had had to guess, she would have pegged Veronica at closer to five than
seven. That explained how Marie had fixed the little girl; she had made Veronica younger, much the same way she’d made Emma older.

  To Emma’s surprise, Veronica began to cry. Emma wished she could get up to comfort the little girl, but she was far too feeble at this point. “What’s the matter, dear?”

  “What am I going to tell Mama and Papa when I go back? They’ll think I’m a baby again.”

  “I’m sure they won’t think that.”

  The little girl seized the initiative and climbed up onto Emma’s lap. She rested her head against Emma’s chest. “I miss them so much. It’s not fair. Marie said I can go back when I’m better. I’m all better now.”

  “I’m sure Marie will take you home soon, dear.”

  “It’s been so long already. What if they forgot about me?”

  “Oh, I doubt they could forget about such a pretty little girl.”

  Veronica smiled at her. “You’re much nicer than that old man. I don’t like him.”

  “I don’t like him either.”

  “Marie doesn’t like him either. She’s scared of him.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you like to get away from him? To go back home to Mama and Papa?”

  “You can do that?”

  “I think so, but I’ll need your help.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “I need you to help me out of this chair.”

  “All right.”

  Veronica might only be a toddler, but she was strong enough to help Emma out of the chair. Emma leaned against the walker. She had to take a few deep breaths after so much effort. Then she mumbled, “Mekka lekka weep ninibaum.”

  The case of red armor appeared at her feet. Veronica let out a gasp at the sight of it. “It’s all right, dear. It won’t hurt you. Open it.” Emma hoped the case would let Veronica open it. Otherwise Emma would have to awkwardly try to do it herself.

  Perhaps the armor understood enough of the situation that it yawned open at Veronica’s touch. “What is this?” Veronica asked.

  “It’s a set of magic armor,” Emma said. “It will help us escape. Be a good girl and grab the yellow cape for me. Don’t try to put the rest on. It’s much too big for you.”