Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call

by P. T. Dilloway

  “That’s why I came looking for you. We have to find some way to stop her without killing her. Don’t you have some kind of potion that would work?”

  “Not that would work on the Black Dragoon, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Chiostro said. She shook her head. “This is far worse than I ever imagined.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “I wish there was more I could say.” Mrs. Chiostro looked around at the other witches, both of whom wore a similar downcast expression. The magic of the Black Dragoon was too powerful for them to break even with all three of them. “I think we ought to deliver the bad news in person. Where is the girl?”

  “I’ll take you there, but you might want to wear some old clothes.”

  Chapter 23

  Mrs. Chiostro descended into the sewers with only Marlin to guide her. She had never been in the city sewers before, though she remembered the flap during their inception. At the time the citizens of Rampart—the ‘City’ was added later—decried the use of public money for the project when they could just as easily dump their waste in the streets. Only after the project was completed did residents understand the benefits.

  That Emma had been forced down here Mrs. Chiostro blamed in part on herself. If she and Sylvia hadn’t gone off to that meeting in the archives, the poor girl wouldn’t have been on her own to battle this evil. She could very easily have died and the red armor ended up in the dark one’s hands.

  Mrs. Chiostro dropped the last two feet from the ladder, into a puddle of stagnant water. In theory Sylvia would have been better suited for this—she would have liked to wade through the muck—but Mrs. Chiostro saw this as her responsibility.

  Marlin waited for her at the bottom, fortunate he could float over the grime and was unable to smell the waste. “You certainly took your time,” he said.

  “At my age you have to be careful with these things.”

  “At your age. Right. She’s this way.”

  Mrs. Chiostro hiked up her skirt, not that it would matter; the dress was certainly ruined. Not even magic would be able to get the stink out of it. A pity, as it had lasted her the last twenty-five years. “I hope she’s not too far.”

  “It shouldn’t take too long, so long as you keep moving.”

  “You needn’t be so condescending. We aren’t all as fortunate as you.”

  “You should have brought your flying quilt.”

  “It wouldn’t operate in these tight corners.”

  Before the argument could go any further, Mrs. Chiostro sniffed a change in the air. The reek became far more powerful, enough to knock her over. She wished she had brought along some hardigan leaves, but those often caused hallucinations and at the moment she needed to be as clearheaded as possible.

  Along with the magnified stench, she heard a chorus of squeaks and shrieks. Even without using a luminescence spell to see in the dark, she knew these sounds came from the other residents of the sewers. “It’s him, isn’t it?” she said to Marlin.

  The ghost floated ahead for a moment and then returned. “It’s him.”

  “Is she with him?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “Then go fetch her. I believe I shall require her assistance.” The ghost hurried away, which left Mrs. Chiostro alone to face the Sewer Rat. Another reason not to bring Sylvia along was Mrs. Chiostro’s sister might have decided to use the Sewer Rat’s friends for target practice, if not the man—or man-like creature—himself.

  She planted herself in the center of the tunnel and dropped her skirts so her hands would be free. She cringed as the first of the Sewer Rat’s friends swarmed around her feet. She decided to surprise him with a fiery tongue spell to suspend a tongue of flame in the air between them. The Sewer Rat threw a hand over his eyes as he backed into the shadows. “Bitch!”

  “Young man, my name is Agnes Chiostro. I’m here to see my friend.”

  “No friend here.”

  “I believe you know a young woman by the name of Emma Earl.”

  “Leave her alone.” As the Sewer Rat said this, the rats around Mrs. Chiostro’s feet multiplied. Some of them began to gnaw at the hem of her skirt. This she knew was the proverbial shot across the bow. If she lingered much longer, the creatures would devour not only the rest of her dress, but the rest of her as well. She could easily cast a spell to turn them to dust or earthworms or something equally harmless, but she didn’t want to go that far yet.

  “I’m her friend. I want to help her.”

  “Not need you help.”

  “I see, you’re taking care of her. But perhaps you might let me see her?”

  “Not need you help.”

  “Please, young man, I’d prefer we remain civil about this.”

  “Leave. Now.” The rats began to work higher up on her skirts. She didn’t have to so much as move her hands; she swiped them away with a simple repulse spell she had learned when she was seventeen.

  “I don’t think you want to trifle with me, my boy. I’m not going to hurt Emma. I just want to see her.”

  The rats began to regroup. Mrs. Chiostro could sense the Sewer Rat move along the wall so he could get behind her. If he entered the fray then she would have to take more dramatic action. She closed her eyes and searched her mind for the proper words for a dust bunny spell.

  Before she could complete the spell, Marlin floated back into view. Behind him came Emma, along with a fairly large rat. “Stop!” Emma shouted. “Jim, stop!”

  ***

  Emma had just deciphered how to conjugate verbs in past perfect tense for ratspeak when Marlin floated back into view. “Hi again,” she said. “What brings you here this time?”

  “Those old hags have come back. Mrs. Chiostro came down here to find you.”

  “She did?” Emma leaped to her feet as she thought of what would happen when the old woman ran into Jim. “We have to find her.”

  “She’s on her way. Your boyfriend is giving her a bit of trouble though.”

  Emma didn’t wait for Marlin; she had already taken off in the direction she knew Mrs. Chiostro would come from. Pepe followed her on his short legs. By now Emma didn’t need the helmet or a flashlight to see in the tunnels; she knew them as well as if she’d waded through them her entire life.

  Marlin caught up to her and raced ahead to lead the way. As she closed in, Emma hoped she wasn’t too late. She knew Mrs. Chiostro wouldn’t deliberately hurt anyone, but she also knew Jim’s attitude towards strangers. He wouldn’t simply allow her access, not without a fight.

  Ahead she saw a tongue of flame suspended in the air, as good a sign of Mrs. Chiostro’s location as if she’d lit a flare. Though she couldn’t see him, Emma could smell Jim nearby, along with a good number of his friends. As she closed in, she could make out a humanoid shape in the darkness that was ready to leap out at Mrs. Chiostro from behind.

  “Stop!” Emma shouted. “Jim, stop!”

  Her cry had the desired effect as Jim backed away. “What you do here?” he hissed at her.

  Emma stopped beside Mrs. Chiostro and put a hand on the old witch’s shoulder. “It’s all right. She’s my friend. She’s not here to hurt me.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. She’s here to help. Aren’t you, Mrs. Chiostro?”

  “Of course, dear.”

  Emma leaned against the witch to whisper, “Put out the light.”

  The tongue of flame disappeared to leave the sewage tunnel in darkness. It took Emma’s eyes a moment to adjust, but she could already smell Jim coming towards them. He stuck out a hand towards Mrs. Chiostro. “Hello, friend,” he said.

  Mrs. Chiostro took his hand, giving it a weak shake. “Hello to you too, young man.”

  Jim led the way back to Emma’s camp. Along the way, Emma filled the old witch in on the situation. “I’ve been working on a plan. I think it’ll be easier now that you’re here.” Emma climbed up to her bed and rummaged through some discarded papers to find what she had scribbled on an old napki
n. Jim stood off to the side to watch Mrs. Chiostro carefully. Emma couldn’t blame him for being so cautious after so many years spent down here.

  At last she found the napkin that contained the notes for her plan. She patted the makeshift bed to invite Mrs. Chiostro to sit down next to her. “I think there’s a way I can save Becky,” Emma said.

  “How’s that, dear?”

  “We have to capture Isis and make her release Becky.”

  “That could be difficult.”

  “Yes, and that’s why I’ll need your help.” Emma took a deep breath before she continued. “I know the evil spirit has possessed her, but inside there is still a young woman, who she was before she went on that dig. If we can reach her, maybe she can reject this evil presence. Once Isis loses her power, then her hold on Becky will break too.”

  “I’m not sure about that, dear. There may be the soul of a good young woman in there, but by now it’s too far gone to reach.”

  “Well, maybe we can do an exorcism. Don’t you witches have a way to do that?”

  “Yes, but whether it will work on a spirit this powerful—”

  “We have to try it. Otherwise that girl is going to die. And so will Becky.” Emma’s lower lip trembled, but she managed to hold back her tears as she thought of having to kill Becky. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t imagine it.

  The old witch sighed and then nodded. “I suppose we could try. But how are we going to capture Isis?”

  “There’s a party at her house on Friday. If we can get inside, we’ll be able to surprise her.” Emma had already thought through this phase of the operation, wherein she’d use the golden cape to slip into Dan’s house and then wait for the opportune moment to abduct Isis undetected. To smuggle in two old women would make it more difficult, but not impossible. “We can take her somewhere quiet to do whatever you need to do.”

  “It could work. We’ll have to discuss it with Sylvia and Tabitha.”

  “Tabitha?”

  “She’s a friend.”

  “Oh.”

  Mrs. Chiostro touched Emma’s hair. “First we’ll get you tidied up and then do something about that shoulder of yours.”

  “Sure. But there’s something I need to do first.”

  ***

  Emma told the old witch to go on ahead with Marlin. She needed some privacy for this moment. Though first she needed to find Jim. He had disappeared during her conversation with Mrs. Chiostro; maybe he had already sensed what was about to happen.

  Emma looked down at Pepe. In ratspeak she asked him to find Jim. The rat made an affirmative squeak before he skittered off into the darkness. She milled around the camp while she waited for Pepe’s return and sorted through the notes she had made on ratspeak. That was another interesting paper she would never get the chance to write, but she could at least keep the notes for her own benefit. She piled these into the box that contained Mr. Graves’s remains. Later she would have to find somewhere to inter those remains; she couldn’t keep them in a wooden box forever.

  When Pepe came back, she wasn’t surprised by his response. She followed the rat through the maze of tunnels until she came to the papier mache statue Jim had made of her. He stood beside this; he didn’t bother to turn at her approach.

  “You leaving,” he said, not as a question but a statement of fact.

  “I’m afraid so. There are people who need my help.”

  “You not come back,” he said again as a statement of fact.

  She reached out to find the arm of his rat-pelt coat. To touch the matted fur would have turned her stomach a couple days ago, but now that she knew the man beneath the furs, her revulsion melted away. “I will come back. I promise.”

  “I love you.”

  This took Emma by surprise, though she knew she should have expected it, given that he had made idols of her. “Jim—”

  “You not love me.” He pulled his arm away from her touch. “I freak.”

  “You’re not a freak. You’re a good person. Maybe when you’re ready to see that, you can come up there to see me.”

  “No. Nothing for me there now.”

  “Jim, please. I wish I could love you, but there’s someone else. He’s in danger right now. I have to help him.”

  “Go. No need you.”

  She tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it away. “I’m going to come back and then we can discuss all of this.” She managed to get a hold of his shoulder and spin him around to look into his rat-like eyes. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I couldn’t have made it without you.” Before she knew it, she kissed him on the lips. The rats around him called out in something like a cheer. She couldn’t help but blush at this.

  When she finally pulled back, she stared down at her feet. “I’d better get going.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  She didn’t leave the sewers alone. Pepe followed a few steps behind her like a faithful dog. Emma had always wanted a dog, but her father had been allergic and after his death, she couldn’t bear the thought of a pet that would eventually die on her. “I hope my lease covers you,” she said to Pepe as she climbed up the ladder.

  Chapter 24

  Pepe went ahead of her to make sure the way was clear. With the crate of Mr. Graves’s remains under her arm, she couldn’t wrap the golden cape around her body, which meant she would have to travel to Mrs. Chiostro’s house visibly. Not that anyone would want to get close enough to identify her at the moment, given how bad she smelled. To anyone who did see her, she would probably look like one of the many vagrants who lurked in the shadows of Rampart City.

  By sticking to those shadows, she managed not to run into anyone on the way to Mrs. Chiostro’s house. Pepe’s snout peeked out from a bush to indicate the way was clear. Emma hurried along the sidewalk and then up the front steps of the witch’s house. She didn’t have to knock; Mrs. Chiostro waited for her at the door.

  “You made it,” the old witch said. She took the crate from Emma’s hands. “It’s such a shame about poor Mr. Graves. He was a good man.”

  “He was,” Emma said. She followed Mrs. Chiostro inside.

  In the parlor she saw a middle-aged woman whose short stature and haircut made her look like a pixie. “This is my sister Tabitha,” Mrs. Chiostro said.

  “I thought Sylvia was your sister.”

  “Not sister by blood, dear. One of my sisters in magic.”

  “Oh.” She blushed as she stood before this unfamiliar woman and wished she could have taken a shower and put on some fresh clothes first. “Hello.”

  “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get to work,” Sylvia said, never one for formalities. In this case, Emma agreed; they didn’t have any time to waste with Becky out there as the Dragoon and Isis growing stronger. “Agnes told us about your brilliant plan.”

  “That’s not the word I’d use,” Marlin snapped.

  “Quiet, you. I think it’s a fine idea,” Mrs. Chiostro said. “Better than any we’ve come up with, that’s for sure.”

  “I say we vaporize the bitch,” Sylvia said.

  Mrs. Chiostro shook her head. “You know we could never do that. No, Emma is right: there is still an innocent young woman in there. We have to give her a chance.”

  “We might not get another shot at her. We can’t waste it.”

  “If we kill her arbitrarily, we aren’t much better than her. What good is winning if we lose our souls in the process? Then she still wins.”

  The witches considered this for a moment. Tabitha nodded. “She has a point. We can’t stoop to her level.” Sylvia remained unconvinced.

  “You’re all soft in the head.” She sighed theatrically. “I guess I’ll have to go with you—to make sure you don’t get your fool selves killed.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Mrs. Chiostro said. “Now, let’s get to work.”

  “Actually,” Emma said, “there’s something else I need from you first.” T
hen she outlined the plan that would let her get into Isis’s house without the woman suspecting a thing.

  ***

  While the witches debated spells, potions, and runes, Emma went upstairs to the bathroom. She gratefully sank into a tub of warm water and let out a relieved sigh. Before long the water turned brown from dirt, so she had to drain the tub, clean it with her good hand, and then refill it. The second time she allowed herself to lie in the water so her tired muscles could relax. For the first time in days she felt normal, at least until she heard the squeak from beside the tub.

  She didn’t know how Pepe had managed to get into the bathroom, but at the moment the sewer rat looked at her with something like concern in his eyes. “I’m fine,” she said in ratspeak. “It’s a bath. To get clean.”

  These were clearly foreign concepts to an animal that had spent his entire life in the sewers. “You should try it some time.” She held up a finger. “But not until I’m done.”

  The rat slunk away to a corner and muttered something she couldn’t understand. Emma closed her eyes and thought back over the last few days. She had certainly made some odd friends—and perhaps lost the most important friend she’d ever had. All the terrible things Becky had said replayed in Emma’s mind. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter to keep tears at bay. As much as she wanted to believe those words had been the result of the Dragoon, she couldn’t. All these years a part of Becky had resented Emma. How could she have failed to notice? She promised if she managed to free Becky from the Dragoon, they would have a long talk to try and fix things.

  Someone knocked on the bathroom door. “Emma,” Mrs. Chiostro said, “we’re ready for you downstairs, dear.”

  Emma opened her eyes and gingerly pushed herself up from the tub, careful not to put any weight on her injured shoulder. As she toweled off, Pepe scurried across the floor to the tub. He climbed into the bathtub and emitted a high-pitched squeal before he leaped out. Emma couldn’t help but laugh at this display. “You’ll have to get used to that if you’re going to stay with me,” she said. “I can’t have a dirty rat in my apartment.”