There were still some mannerisms and attitudes Ms. Chiostro couldn’t erase. She patted Emma’s arm and said, “Why don’t you make yourself more comfortable, dear? You’re not going to work tonight, are you?”
“I should. There’s a lot to do.”
“Nonsense! After the day you’ve had, you need a rest.”
“I suppose.”
“You just follow me. I’ve already made up a room for you.”
“Thanks.” Emma followed the witch upstairs to a guest bedroom. From the lack of dust, Emma assumed Ms. Chiostro had cleaned it recently. Emma took a step back in shock at the boxes piled up in the corner. “Those are mine?”
“Of course, dear. We couldn’t have you running around naked.”
“But that’s not right. Mrs. Lang—”
“Oh, please, what is that old biddy going to do with your clothes and books?” This carefree use of magic was another part of the change from Ms. Chiostro’s near-death experience. In the past she had frequently lectured Emma not to rely too much on magic. As if she’d read Emma’s mind, the witch wagged a finger at her. “There’s nothing wrong with using magic to right an injustice.”
“She’s only doing her job.”
“It’s terrible what’s happened to you after all you’ve done for them. How many lives have you saved? And now they’ve made you a pariah.”
“It’ll blow over in time.” Emma had told herself this for the last nine months and still things hadn’t blown over. She had started to wonder if perhaps it was time for her to leave Rampart City and start over. But she couldn’t leave things as they were with Don Vendetta and her criminal syndicate still entrenched and Becky still angry with her.
“Until they do, you can stay with us. And if you play your cards right, Sylvia might have a job for you.”
“Thank you so much for this.” Emma couldn’t stop herself from breaking into sobs. “I didn’t know what else to do. Becky—” She couldn’t finish this thought; the words stuck in her throat. Ms. Chiostro took Emma’s head to lean against her shoulder and patted her head like Emma was a small child.
“I know, dear. You have to give Rebecca time. It takes a long time to recover from losing someone you love. You know that.”
Emma thought of her parents, who had been taken from her eighteen years earlier in as violent a manner as Steve Scherr had been taken from Becky. She hoped it, like everything else, would only be a matter of time, but that didn’t make this any easier. “I know.”
“Now, you change and then get some sleep. In the morning everything will look better.” Ms. Chiostro gave Emma one last pat on the arm before she left her alone to change.
***
It took a few moments the next morning for the events of the previous day to come back to her. She at first didn’t recognize the bedroom with its floral wallpaper and antique oak fixtures. Then she remembered that she had been evicted from her apartment and that Ms. Chiostro had taken her in when Becky flatly refused her.
It didn’t come as a surprise when Ms. Chiostro opened the door to bring in a tray loaded with a cup of tea and plate of pastries. “Good morning, dear,” Ms. Chiostro said. “Are you feeling any better?”
“A little.” She closed her eyes a moment before Ms. Chiostro opened the curtains to let in sunlight. With a start Emma looked over at the clock to realize it was already noon. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so long without it being the result of a concussion. “I overslept,” she said before she remembered she didn’t have anywhere to go.
“Take it easy, dear. You deserve a little nap after what’s happened.”
Emma took a sip of tea and then bit into a pastry. After three months of tap water and ramen noodles, both tasted like ambrosia. “Thank you. I promise I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can.”
“Don’t be silly. There’s plenty of room in this drafty old house.” While Emma ate her breakfast—or brunch really—Ms. Chiostro rummaged through the boxes magically taken from Emma’s apartment. She held up a lavender blouse to her body. “I don’t suppose you’d let me borrow this?”
“It’s no problem. You can borrow whatever you want.”
Ms. Chiostro’s voice turned shy as she said, “I thought maybe the two of us could go out tonight. There’s a new club I’ve been dying to visit over in the Trenches. I’d pay for everything, of course.”
“I couldn’t let you do that.”
“Please, it’s nothing. It’d be good to have a wingman for a change. Sylvia never wants to go anywhere besides the shooting range.”
“I might have other things to do.”
“We won’t be there all night—or at least I hope not.” The way Ms. Chiostro winked prompted Emma to shiver. She wondered if any of the men who came home with the witch had any idea who they were involved with.
“I suppose, at least for a little while.”
“Great.” Ms. Chiostro reached into another of the boxes to take out a black skirt. “I think I’ll go make some alterations to these for tonight. When you’re done with breakfast, go down to the basement to see Sylvia.”
“Right.” After Emma finished her cup of tea and pastries, the tray disappeared with a puff of smoke for dramatic effect. She went down the stairs to the basement, which Sylvia had converted into a combination hair salon and bunker.
Like her sister, Sylvia had suffered a near-death experience thanks to Isis. In her case she had lost a hand to the goddess’s toxins. In its place she wore a metal claw, which at the moment held a comb that she ran through an older woman’s hair. Sylvia didn’t look up as she said, “I thought you might sleep all day. If you’re looking for something to do, you can start by sweeping up the hair. Make sure you get all of it and then put it in the incinerator.”
“Oh, sure.” Emma found a broom against a stack of grenade crates. While Emma swept the hair into a pile, Sylvia and her customer discussed the latest in portable missile systems. Emma had nothing to contribute on this topic, as she didn’t use any weapons besides the Sword of Justice.
Once she cut the old woman’s hair, Sylvia and her customer got down to their real business. “I can give you three hundred units at ten thousand apiece. That’s practically giving them away,” Sylvia said.
“Three million dollars? I can’t afford that.”
“Then you can always fight with rocks and sticks. Those are pretty cheap.”
The old woman considered this for a moment. “Very well. I’ll have the money for you tonight. You had better have the product.”
“I’ve never broken my word yet.” Sylvia spun the barber’s chair around and held up a mirror with her claw. “I think that length is good for you. Just don’t go getting your head blown off.”
“I’ll try. Thank you.”
Once the old woman had gone back up the steps, Sylvia turned to Emma. “She’s with a group in one of those countries that used to be part of the Soviet Union. They’ve been taking some heat from mercenaries fronted by some big shot over there. Something about mineral rights. Sounds like a worthy cause to me.”
Sylvia’s rule when she sold weapons was that she never sold to those who used the weapons for an unjust cause. Anyone who tried to use her weapons in such a manner would find they wouldn’t work. “You missed a spot over there.” The old witch gestured with her claw at a bit of gray hair on the floor. Since a witch could use hair to work powerful spells, Sylvia was always careful to destroy any left behind in the basement.
Emma swept the hair and then dumped it into the incinerator where it could cause no future problems. With a sigh she leaned against the broom. “Agnes said I had a job for you. This isn’t it. Or at least not all of it. You already know about the deal going down tonight. I thought you might help with security. I’ll give you a thousand bucks. All you’ll probably have to do is stand around.”
“I don’t think I could use the armor for profit like that.”
“You don’t have to wear the armor, unless things go to shit
on us.”
Emma considered the offer. A thousand dollars for almost nothing was too good to pass up. “What time is this? I promised your sister I’d go out with her tonight.”
“Nine o’clock, down at the docks. It shouldn’t take long. Then you and Agnes can go whore yourselves around. Or at least she will. You’ve got better sense than that.”
“Thanks. I think,” Emma said.
“In the meantime you can give me a hand loading up the truck.” Sylvia chuckled to herself at this pun. Emma had a bad feeling it was going to be a long night.
***
The docks in Rampart City were a center of commercial trading—and a center for crime. Often the two intermingled with guns that came and went in exchange for cash. Emma had often visited the docks in the Scarlet Knight’s armor to break up major drug or weapons deals. Nine months ago she had even helped apprehend Don Vendetta at a nearby warehouse.
She tried not to think about this and the illegality of what she and Sylvia were about to do. She knew Sylvia only sold her weapons for noble causes, but it was still against the law. This was in part why Emma did not have the scarlet armor on as she stood next to a pile of used pallets. The other reason was that the armor might scare the potential buyers away before the exchange could be made.
Sylvia had offered Emma the use of any weapons in the bunker, which included her cache of magic weapons. She opted for a short sword that Sylvia claimed had once belonged to Perseus in ancient times. The sword didn’t have the same feel as the Sword of Justice, nor could it cut through everything, but it would be better than to drag around the club of Herakles.
“It’s not them double-crossing us that you have to worry about,” Sylvia said. “The bigger problem is if any of the don’s thugs find out about what’s going down. They’ll want their piece of the action.”
Emma searched the sky for any helicopters or airplanes that might work as the don’s spotters but didn’t see anything. She swept the goggles around the green-tinged docks, but still didn’t see anything.
From the harbor came a foghorn. It blew four times—two long and two short bursts. This was the signal that Sylvia’s buyers were on their way. Emma checked her watch to see they were right on time. With any luck the exchange would go quickly and then she could meet Ms. Chiostro over at the club.
“Having fun moonlighting?” a voice hissed in her ear. Emma didn’t turn around; she knew her goggles wouldn’t be able to see the ghost next to her.
“Don’t start with me,” she whispered back.
“Maybe after this you can apply as an enforcer with Don Vendetta.”
“Leave me alone. We’re almost finished here.”
“I hope she’s at least paying you well.”
“I am,” Sylvia said. “Now get lost before I cast you out.” To back up this threat, Sylvia used her good hand to pull out a knotted string from a pocket. Though it looked like an ordinary piece of string, with the right words it could become a powerful talisman.
“I’m just reminding her of her responsibilities.”
“She knows her responsibilities. Leave the poor girl alone.”
Marlin grumbled something under his breath; the words became softer until Emma couldn’t hear anything. “Is he gone?”
“For now. He’ll probably come back to shove his nose where it isn’t welcome.”
That was one of the ghost’s exceptional gifts along with nagging Emma should she ever shirk her duties even a little. In this case he had a point that to protect Sylvia’s weapons wasn’t much different than to work for Don Vendetta.
“Don’t let him bother you. We’re doing a good thing. And you’re making some money so you won’t have to live on the street.”
“I suppose so,” Emma said with a sigh.
The foghorn blew its signal again and now Emma could see a light approach. Within a few minutes, a small boat appeared out of the gloom. From the nets and other accoutrements, Emma surmised it was a fishing boat pressed into service to carry the weapons. No doubt a larger ship waited out at sea. The fishing boat would at least be far less conspicuous than a freighter.
She tightened her grip on the sword when she saw a machine gun mounted on the bow manned by two people. Clearly the buyers didn’t want to take any chances that Don Vendetta or anyone else would interfere with their business. What if they decided to use that machine gun to kill her and Sylvia and simply take the weapons? The sword suddenly felt far less useful.
“Don’t worry, these are good people. They aren’t going to screw us.”
“I hope not.” She looked around the area again in case anyone tried to sneak up on them. From what she could tell, no one else was around. Too bad Marlin had gone off to sulk or he might have been able to help look for intruders.
The fishing boat came closer; the woman Emma had seen at the salon earlier joined the men at the bow. She hopped onto the docks before the boat’s engine came to a stop. After she tossed a rope to the men at the bow, the woman approached Sylvia. Her eyes settled on Emma. “Did you bring anyone else?”
“No. Emma is my assistant. She’s just here to help make sure it goes smoothly. Did you bring anyone other than those two boys?”
“No.”
“Good. Now, since we both have better things to do than stand around out here, let’s get this over with. You have the money?”
“It’s on the boat. One of my sons will bring it. You have the weapons?”
Sylvia jerked her thumb to the U-Haul truck behind her. “They’re in there. You want to inspect them?” The woman nodded. “Emma, why don’t you escort her?”
“Sure.” Emma let the woman go first and kept the sword at the ready. She couldn’t see any bulges that might be a weapon, but that didn’t mean the woman didn’t have something hidden on her person. She probably should have patted the woman down, but it was too late now.
Emma unlocked the back of the U-Haul and raised the tailgate to reveal crates of weapons stacked up. The woman climbed up into the back of the truck to open one crate at random. Emma watched her closely for any sudden movements. The weapons were unloaded and the ammunition in separate crates, but that didn’t mean the woman couldn’t use one of the rifles or rocket launchers as a club.
As the woman opened another crate, Emma heard a familiar squeak. She turned to see Pepe skitter towards her. “Not now,” Emma hissed at the rat. “I’m busy.” She spun back around to find the woman pointed an assault rifle at her.
Emma’s heart pounded in her chest loud enough to blot out any other sounds. Had the woman managed to load the weapon in the moment Pepe had distracted Emma? Emma closed her eyes as the woman pulled the trigger. The weapon clicked harmlessly. “Yes, this will be satisfactory,” the woman said. She put the weapon back. Emma breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’ll drive them up the dock for you,” Emma said. She tried to keep the agitation out of her voice.
“Yes, thank you.” The woman hopped down from the truck and then began to saunter back towards her boat.
Emma glared down at the sewer rat. “You could have gotten me killed.”
The rat squeaked an apology and then told her why he had come to find her. From some of his brothers, Pepe had heard about trouble at the Rampart City Zoo. He couldn’t be more specific except to say that someone was harassing the animals inside.
She looked back towards Sylvia and the boat and then down at Pepe. The rat gave her the equivalent of puppy dog eyes. “All right, I’ll get over there to check it out. Let me just drive these over first.”
Emma slammed the tailgate shut and then climbed into the driver’s seat. The U-Haul’s engine coughed to life. It didn’t take long for it to chug up to the dock, where Sylvia and her buyer waited. Emma left the sword on the seat as she hopped down. “Can you finish this without me?” she asked. “Pepe says there’s something going on at the zoo.”
“We should be fine here. You want a ride?”
“If you could that would be great.”
“Here we are,” Sylvia said.
Emma opened her eyes to see they were in the cafeteria of the zoo, which at the moment was dark and empty. “I can take it from here,” she said.
“Sure. I’ll see you back at the house later.”
Sylvia disappeared with another flash of light. Emma regretted her last words when her vision cleared and she found herself surrounded by lions.
Chapter 3
Four lions—three female and one male—encircled her. She thought they might be stuffed until one of the females nudged her with its warm muzzle to knock Emma to the floor. The lions pressed closer to decide if she was food or not.
There was no way for her to summon the red armor and put it on, not before the lions could tear her apart. And yet there was no way she could fight four big cats without the armor. Maybe they would decide to pass her by and look for something else to eat.
That something else ran across Emma’s chest. Pepe leaped from Emma’s chest onto the floor, directly in front of the male lion. The lion took a swipe at the rat, but Pepe had already shot between his legs to skitter away. The lion roared with rage and turned away from Emma, as did the other three females.
This gave Emma the opportunity she needed to hop over the counter, into the kitchen. She threw open the freezer and shut the heavy door behind her. That should be enough to keep out the lions or any other predators long enough for her to change. “Mekka lekka weep ninnebaum,” she said. With a flash the red case of armor appeared next to a carton of shredded lettuce. Emma changed as quickly as possible into the armor; she wondered how long Pepe could keep the lions at bay.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis Page 2