Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call

by P. T. Dilloway

  As I’m shuffling around the water, I feel someone tap me on the shoulder. I figure it’s one of the other prospectors until I hear Glenda hiss, “We need to talk.”

  Turning, I see Glenda has made herself young again, at least for the moment; it would probably be bizarre for the mortals to see an elderly woman wading around here. We wade out of the water, Glenda taking my hand to keep from falling down. I show her to the shack I’ve been sharing with a half-dozen prospectors, all of them men. They learned after I kicked one in the crotch hard enough to cough up blood to keep their hands off of me.

  As soon as we’re alone, Glenda turns old again. She probably feels more comfortable that way after all of these years. I have a hard enough time being middle aged. “What’s wrong? More vampires you need killed?”

  “No, nothing like that. This is very sad news.” She sits down next to me on the bed, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’m afraid Agnes’s husband has died.”

  “Alejandro? Dead?” I shouldn’t be surprised since he would have to be about eighty years old by now; most men die long before that.

  “I’m sorry, dear. I know you both cared about him very much.”

  “Yes.” I stare at my feet, unable to cry just yet. “When did it happen?”

  “Last night. He died in his sleep. He didn’t suffer.”

  I should want him to suffer after what happened between us, but I don’t. I still love him, even now. “That’s good,” I say.

  “As you can imagine, Agnes is quite upset. I think you should go to her.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  Glenda lifts my chin to look me in the eye, glaring at me. “Don’t be selfish, Sylvia. Your sister is in a lot of pain. She wants you there.”

  “She told you that?”

  “She didn’t have to. I know her—and you.” She continues to look me in the eye even when I try to look away. “Whatever happened between you is over now. Go to her and make things right.”

  “It’s been so long.”

  “That’s not going to matter. She loves you. And you love her.”

  “I know.”

  “So go to her.”

  I nod slightly and then get to my feet. There’s a small mirror hung on one wall for the men to shave with. I stare into the glass and concentrate. Silver creeps into my hair, starting at the roots and then working its way all the way down to the ends. The lines in my face deepen, new ones cropping up. The skin around my neck becomes loose, though not quite looking like a turkey’s wattle yet. I look down at a liver-spotted hand, blue veins visible against my skin.

  Turning to Glenda, I ask in a scratchier voice, “How do I look?”

  “Very handsome.”

  I smile slightly, knowing that “handsome” means I look old. I don’t feel old, at least not yet. “Are you coming with me?”

  “Not yet. You should do this alone.”

  I nod to her and then I vanish back home—to my sister.

  Chapter 34

  The house is the same as when I left, at least on the outside. It seems that time never changes the grounds of the estate or the vineyard. Time only seems to change the people who live here.

  I can’t help feeling self-conscious as I shuffle up the front drive. I’ve never been this old before. I never realized how annoying it would be: my back aches, my feet throb, and my lungs burn just from the effort of walking from the gate to the house. I have to clutch my hands together to keep them from shaking.

  As I’m about halfway, I hear a man call my name. The sound of his voice is enough like Alejandro’s that I flinch. Alejandro is supposed to be dead! Glenda wouldn’t try such a horrible ruse to make me come back, would she?

  Except that it’s not Alejandro approaching me. It’s a man who looks far more like Aggie with golden hair and a slight, almost girlish frame. I recognize him as Luc, who I had last seen at five years old. “Aunt Sylvia!” he calls again and breaks into a run.

  Despite that he’s about forty years old now, Luc shows no embarrassment in hugging me. Seeing him up close, it’s obvious that I was right when I first saw him; he did indeed turn out to be a very handsome man. I free one of my trembling hands to pat him lightly on the back. “Hello,” I say. “How did you know it was me?”

  He smiles up at me. “No other woman I know would be dressed like that.”

  My face turns warm as I realize I’m still wearing men’s pants and a flannel shirt, both of these stained with mud. “I’m sorry. I came straight here when I heard the news.”

  “Heard the news? Papa only died last night.”

  I feel even more embarrassed at this, realizing my blunder in coming here straightaway. “Yes, well, I was in the area.”

  Luc takes this at face value, probably having inherited his mother’s trusting nature. “The rest of the family will be delighted to see you.”

  “I hope so.” Like a gentleman, Luc takes me by the arm to help me up the rest of the drive. Ordinarily I would insist that I could do this, but at the moment I feel my age.

  I’ve never seen Aggie’s grandchildren before. They’re both in the parlor, sitting demurely on the sofa. Like Luc, they have Aggie’s blond hair, blue eyes, and delicate bone structure. They look so much alike—they even have their hair in identical curls—that they could be twins, though in reality they’re cousins. The older of the two, Zoe, glares at me. “Who’s this? One of Grandmamma’s friends?”

  “This is your Aunt Sylvia,” Luc says. “She’s been gone away in America.”

  “Why’s she dressed like a peasant?” Zoe asks, still glaring. If I were younger, I would teach the girl some manners, or if I could use magic in front of these mortals.

  “Behave yourself, Zoe,” Luc says. “Go and fetch your father and uncle.”

  Like Aggie’s grandchildren, her two other sons could also be twins. The only difference is that Mathieu is balder and Marcus is heavier. They both still look too much like Alejandro for my taste. Unlike Luc, they don’t hug me; Mathieu shakes my hand while Marcus only nods to me. Once all of the introductions are made, I ask the most important question, “How is Agnes?”

  “Mother is feeling out of sorts, as you’d expect,” Mathieu says.

  “She still won’t see any visitors,” Marcus adds.

  Luc nods sagely at this. “She’s been up in her room ever since they took Papa away. We’ve all tried to convince her to leave. Even the priest came by to reason with her, but she refuses to budge.” He squeezes my arm. “Perhaps you can get through to her.”

  “I can try.”

  Before I go to the master bedroom, I find that my bedroom is still the same as the last time I left it. The doll Alejandro gave to me for that first Christmas is on the shelf, dust on its hair and dress from over the years. Everything in here is as dusty as my house in Edinburgh. Did Aggie stop having anyone dust the place out of respect for me? Maybe she wanted to preserve everything the way it was, thinking I would never come back.

  In the closet are a couple of old dresses, including the ones I wore as a child. Despite that it’s been almost three hundred years, the dark green dress with gold trim Aggie made for me to wear to the archives is still hanging up. It’s a tight squeeze now that I’m sixty instead of sixteen and looking in the mirror, the effect of it is macabre. I take this off in favor of a rough brown dress that is bulkier and thus more flattering to my elderly body.

  With the silver hairpins Mama gave me so long ago, I pin my hair out of my face. I still look terrible, but not as if I’ve been toiling in a stream all day. I wonder if Aggie will still recognize me looking this way; she’s never seen me so old before.

  Instead of knocking on the door and trying to plead with Aggie, I simply vanish myself into the room. It’s dark enough with the curtains drawn that for a moment I can’t see Aggie at all. Once my eyes adjust a bit, I can make her out lying on the bed, her back turned to me. From the way her body trembles, I’m sure that she’s still crying. “Agnes?”

  She doesn’t tur
n to face me, but she does mumble, “Glenda told you, didn’t she?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “I know. Thank you.”

  There’s no point in asking if she’s all right, because the answer to that is obvious. I’m more concerned that Aggie might do something to herself, that she might try to kill herself so she can join her husband in the afterlife. I slowly make my way around the bed to see that she has nothing in her hands, no knives or pistols or potions. Though with her knowledge of magic, she doesn’t necessarily need a weapon.

  What’s most disconcerting are her eyes, which are glassy, not just from crying. How long has she been lying here? Luc said since they took the body, which could be as long as twelve hours ago.

  I bend down so Aggie can see my face. “Everyone’s downstairs. Your whole family. Don’t you want to let them in?”

  “No. I want to be alone.”

  “They’re worried about you. So am I. This isn’t like you.”

  “I’m glad that you came, but you can leave now. I’m not going to hurt myself.”

  “That’s good. Could I at least get you some water or maybe some bread? You have to keep your strength up.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t talk like that, Agnes. I know you loved Alejandro. He was a good man.” I reach out to touch Aggie’s hair, which has gone completely white. As far as her family knows, she’s seventy years old, ancient by mortal standards. “He wouldn’t want you to be like this. He would want you to be strong and take care of his family.”

  “They don’t need me anymore. They’re all grown up.”

  “You can’t just lie here forever.”

  Before I know what’s happening, Aggie has used a Static Charge spell to hurl me back into the wall. I lie there in a daze, hoping I didn’t break any of my brittle old bones. For her part, Aggie stays on the bed, her eyes looking more intense as she stares at me. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I just want you all to leave me alone.”

  “You know running away isn’t going to do anything. I’ve been doing that for over three hundred years now, ever since Henri died. You need to go down there and face this with your family.” I manage to get on my knees and crawl back to Aggie’s bedside. She doesn’t react when I put a hand on her. “They all love you—except maybe that little snot Zoe.”

  Aggie finally cracks a smile. “She is a bit of a pill, isn’t she? Probably because her grandmother spoiled her rotten.”

  When Aggie sits up, I climb onto the bed next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. It seems odd that after all this time we’re sitting in her bedroom, a couple of old ladies now. Despite everything that has changed, we always seem to end up back here.

  “It doesn’t seem fair,” Aggie says. “First Brigitte died and then Mathieu’s wife—she was such a lovely young woman. Now Alejandro’s gone too. It won’t be long until they’re all gone, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I shouldn’t have married him. Mama always said I shouldn’t get myself involved with mortals. I suppose this must be why.”

  “I think you’ve been pretty fortunate. You were married for fifty years. You had three children and grandchildren. Henri and I never even got the chance to get married.” I don’t tell her about my daughter, who at this point is almost thirty-five years old; by now I could be a grandmother as well. “You’ve had a good life here, haven’t you?”

  She thinks about this and then smiles at me. “Yes. I just wish it didn’t have to end.”

  “But at least you’re not alone. No matter what happens to your children and your grandchildren, you’ll still have me. You’ll still have Glenda and the others too.” I give Aggie a hug; she clings to me for a few minutes, crying into my shoulder. I simply stroke her hair and let her cry.

  Once she’s exhausted herself, Aggie gets up. She throws open the curtains to let light into the room. Silhouetted in that light, I can see that despite the wrinkles, the white hair, and the added weight, she’s still the young girl I remember—she’s still my sister.

  Before we go downstairs, she takes my arm. “Sylvia, could you do me a favor?”

  “What is it?”

  “Could you braid my hair? Like you used to do?”

  “Of course.” She sits down and I get to work. It’s a bit tricky at first after so long and with these unsteady hands, but as always, I soon get the hang of it—we’ve had centuries to practice this.

  ***

  Despite my feelings about the Church, I go to Alejandro’s funeral at the local cathedral. He’s going to be buried in the church’s cemetery, where his granddaughter Brigitte is already buried. I ride in the carriage with Aggie, wearing a new black dress made for me by her granddaughter Lise, who sits beside me in the carriage. Aggie sits across from us with Zoe pressed against her, almost protectively. Zoe continues to glare at me even as Aggie strokes the girl’s hair.

  Aggie’s sons arrive ahead of us in a separate carriage. Luc helps me down and then waits to help his mother as well. I’m not sure it’s an act when Aggie leans against Luc for support. She’s wearing a black veil so I can’t see her eyes, though I suspect she’s been crying ever since we set out from the estate.

  Lise hasn’t said anything in my presence since I arrived, but now she takes my arm. “Aunt Sylvia, could I talk to you for a moment?”

  “Of course, sweetheart.” I let her guide me to the side of the cathedral, away from the cemetery. Lise leans against the wall, tears sparkling in her eyes. “What’s wrong? Is this about your grandmother?”

  “In a way. I’ve done something very bad. I don’t want Grandmamma to find out. It might kill her to hear such news.”

  “Your grandmother is a very strong woman. I’m sure she can handle it.”

  The girl begins to sob and falls against me. I pat her back, wondering what could be so terrible, though I should already know. “I’m with child,” she whispers in my ear.

  From the way Lise is crying, I assume this isn’t a planned pregnancy or a wanted one. I think of my own daughter, who could be just about anywhere by now, or might even be dead. I’m the last person in the world then who should be giving advice to this girl. “Does the father know?”

  “I haven’t told him yet.”

  “Who is it?”

  “A boy in my village. If Papa finds out, he’s going to thrash me. And Grandmamma—she’s suffered so much as it is. I don’t want to hurt her again.”

  “I understand.” I put a hand to Lise’s stomach. From the feel of it, she can’t be more than four months along; she’ll probably start to show in a couple more months. “Do you love this boy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then tell him about the child. If he wants to marry you, then you can both go to your father.” I smile at Lise, but she doesn’t smile back. “Don’t worry about your grandmother. She’ll be able to handle the news when the time comes.”

  “What if he doesn’t want to get married?”

  “Then you can raise the child on your own. Your grandmother and I will help you if your father won’t.” My smile fades and I look into her eyes, turning deadly serious now. “Whatever you do, don’t do anything to hurt the baby—or yourself. You make sure you never let that child go. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Aunt Sylvia.”

  Lise takes my arm, leading me into the church. I’m glad for her support once I see Alejandro’s casket. He’s much older than I remember, his hair as white as Aggie’s, though not much of it remains, and his face heavily lined. The mortician has arranged him in an unnatural pose, with his hands folded on his chest. Closing my eyes, I think back to when we were both much younger, making love in the forest.

  I have to turn away from the casket, before I lose control of myself. Lise seats me next to Aggie, whose face is still unreadable because of the veil. Sitting next to her, I can hear her sniffle every now and then. I want to say something comforting again, but my throat is too choked by my own sobs, so I can only reach over to take he
r hand.

  We sit there, hand-in-hand, while the priest goes through the ceremony. Aggie’s entire family is there in the front row: me, Lise, Zoe, Mathieu, Marcus, and Luc. Alejandro’s cousins, nephews, and nieces are in the pew behind us, having made the trip from Italy. There’s only one person missing: Alejandro’s daughter. Wherever she is, does she know that her father is dead? No, not so long as her adoptive parents never told her about her true origin. Someday—I hope not too soon—perhaps Alejandro will finally get the chance to meet her.

  When it’s over, Alejandro’s sons and some of his nephews take the casket outside, to the grave where he’ll lie for the rest of time. I keep hold of Aggie’s hand, the two of us leaning against each other, mutually keeping ourselves upright as we shuffle outside. There are more prayers in Latin, a language I’ve never bothered to learn and don’t feel like using a spell to learn now.

  Though there probably are caretakers to fill in the grave, Aggie’s sons insist on doing it themselves. She has to turn away, resting her head on my shoulder as the casket is buried. “He’s gone,” she whispers to me. “He’s really gone now.”

  “I know,” I say to her. “But we’ll always remember him. Just like Mama and Sophie.” I mentally add Henri, Connor, David, Rachel, Andre, Frau Braun, and many others to this list. I wish I could add my daughter, but I never saw her.

  After the grave is filled, we file slowly back to our carriages, to return home—a home that will be much emptier now for Aggie.

  Chapter 35

  The golden age of the American frontier is nearing its end. Thousands of people are being let into Oklahoma to snap up land for homesteading. Between these homesteaders and the railroads, there’s not much wild left to the wild frontier.