Aggie put a hand to her forehead; the room seemed to spin for a moment. The hair and clothes might have been those of Mrs. Chiostro, but the old woman’s face and eyes were those of Emma Earl. Here Emma was the kindly old woman and Aggie the naïve young girl. What kind of sick universe had Sylvia transported her to?
“Agnes, are you all right?” Sophie asked.
“I don’t feel good,” Aggie said in a tiny voice, her eyes squeezed shut. “I want to go home.” Not to her ugly bedroom in New Stockholm with its black curtains and rock music posters; she wanted to go back to her sunny old house in Rampart City and curl up in bed with Akako.
“Is something wrong?” this ancient version of Emma asked.
“My sister isn’t feeling well,” Sophie answered for her like a good big sister. “Can I take her down to the office?”
Emma put on her reading glasses; milky blue eyes squinted behind them. Aggie must have looked sick enough that she said, “Yes, I suppose you’d better, dear.”
Aggie waited until she and Sophie were in the hallway to say, “Thank you.”
“You’d better not be faking.”
“I don’t think I am.”
As they waited for the elevator, Sophie said, “What’d you do, drink too much with the other Goth princesses? Smoke some bad weed?”
“I don’t know.”
“You need to find a different crowd. You’re never going to get into a good school if you don’t clean up your act,” Sophie said as the elevator started down. Aggie didn’t say anything; she tried not to focus on the movement of the elevator and the pancakes from breakfast that had begun to work their way back up her throat. “I mean, what do you think, you can live with Mom forever?”
Aggie expected Mrs. Strathmore to give her a hard time when she returned to the office, but perhaps Sophie’s presence silenced her. Or it might have been that Aggie looked ready to throw up all over the front desk. “Agnes isn’t feeling well,” Sophie said. “I think she needs to go home and rest. Can I use the phone?”
“Of course you can,” Mrs. Strathmore said. While Sophie went over to the corner to use the phone, Mrs. Strathmore said, “Whatever you two were doing this morning must be contagious.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your little friend already went home. She didn’t look quite as green around the gills as you do.”
“Oh,” Aggie said, unable to think of anything else. At least that explained why she hadn’t been able to find Akako after she ran off.
“I tried Mom at work, but she’s out showing a house, so Sylvia’s going to pick you up,” Sophie said.
“Sylvia?”
“You’re lucky she doesn’t have a lecture until later or you’d be walking.” Sophie checked her watch. “She’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Aren’t you going to stay with me?”
“I’ve got to get back to class.” Sophie looked down at her and met her eyes. “You’ll be fine here with Mrs. Strathmore, won’t you?”
“I guess.”
“Good.” Sophie waved a finger at her. “I’ll check up on you when I get home.”
“OK.” Then her big sister was gone and once more Aggie found herself alone.
***
She sat on a chair—two chairs really—by the front door of the office; she kept her eyes closed and tried not to think about her nausea. She didn’t have any idea what had brought this on so suddenly, except maybe it was a delayed reaction to the spell Sylvia had used on her in the archives. Perhaps it was quantum motion sickness.
The thought of Sylvia made Aggie’s stomach churn even more. She didn’t have any idea what to expect. From what Sophie said, Sylvia was in some kind of school. College? Trade school? Aggie wondered if Sylvia attended classes or taught them. For all she knew, in this universe Sylvia might be her grandmother instead of her sister.
Aggie couldn’t help but blow out a sigh of relief when the Sylvia who walked through the door was nearly identical to the one she had left behind. The differences were that this Sylvia had two hands, wore her dark red hair at shoulder length, and wore a gray T-shirt that bore the logo of the New Stockholm Police Department. Her eyes were the same emerald green as she looked Aggie over and her voice had the same hard edge to it as she said, “Christ, you really are sick. We’d better get you home.”
“OK,” Aggie said again. She put up no argument when Sylvia took the overstuffed bag from Aggie’s shoulder to carry it for her.
A dark blue Caprice waited for them out front; Aggie saw the government plate as Sylvia opened the trunk to drop the bag inside—on top of a shotgun. Again Aggie blew out another sigh of relief to see this version of her sister was just as into firearms as the one she knew. Sylvia said, “You’d better not puke on the seat.”
“I won’t.” Aggie would have preferred to lay down on the backseat, but she found that space taken up by cardboard boxes. On the top of one of these, Aggie saw a pamphlet entitled, “What Every Woman Needs to Know.” Beneath this title a woman walked down a sidewalk while various nasty men ogled her in the background.
“What are you staring at?”
“Nothing,” Aggie said. She took one of the pamphlets from the box before she dropped onto the passenger’s seat up front.
This Sylvia drove as fast and reckless as the one Aggie knew, which while comforting in a way, prompted her breakfast to move a little farther up her throat. “How are things going for you and Sophie and Mom?” Sylvia asked.
“Fine, I guess.”
“I’ve been meaning to stop by, but things get busy.” Aggie said nothing; she decided that would be better than to ask what Sylvia meant. “Sophie thinks you’ve been drinking or smoking dope. Is that true?”
“No.”
“Good. You should know better than that.” Sylvia took one hand off the wheel to pull a cigarette out of her pocket. Before she lit it, she looked over at Aggie and then tossed it in the backseat with the pamphlets. “This thing you’re going through now with the hair and makeup and all that, it’s just a phase.”
“Probably.”
“I know it hasn’t been easy for you guys with Daddy dying and all, but drinking and dope aren’t any way to handle things. Trust me on that.”
“I will.” Aggie recognized the neighborhood from the bus ride earlier and tried to remember which of the little brick houses belonged to her family. Sylvia spun the car into the driveway of one that to Aggie didn’t look any different from the others.
The car idled in the driveway for a moment and Sylvia put a hand on Aggie’s shoulder. “Are you going to be all right? I’d stay, but I’ve got a class in an hour.”
“I’ll be OK,” Aggie said. “I’m just going to take a nap.”
“Good idea. Maybe make yourself a can of soup later. Stay away from the junk.”
“I will.” Sylvia popped the trunk so Aggie could fetch her bag. By the time Aggie had trudged to the front door, Sylvia had already pulled out of the driveway and was out of sight.
Aggie’s stomach began to heave. She barely found the bathroom in time, still on her feet when her breakfast finally emerged. She sank down to her knees after the first wave and waited for the rest of it to come up. In this position she heard Akako say, “Agnes? Are you all right?”
***
Aggie didn’t answer right away; she panted for a moment and then wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. She turned her head slightly to see Akako in the doorway. In a pink T-shirt and jeans Akako looked far younger than she had this morning, more like a nine-year-old. Maybe she had decided to take Mrs. Strathmore’s advice. “I’ll be fine,” Aggie said. “I think it was something I ate.”
She sat up against a cabinet; she didn’t want to test her feet just yet. “They said you went home sick. Did you feel it too?”
“Not like that. I just felt a little lightheaded.” When Aggie didn’t say anything, Akako looked down at her pink sneakers. “I’m sorry about how I acted this morning. It’s just that th
is has all been a shock. I guess I didn’t handle it very well.”
“It’s all right. I know how you feel.” To her surprise, Akako squatted down to give her a hug. The gesture didn’t feel right; Akako’s body didn’t feel the same as Aggie remembered from their nights together. Of course her body wasn’t the same as Aggie remembered; it was much smaller and thinner now, the chest that pressed against Aggie completely flat.
The hug felt like when Aggie’s children had scrambled into her lap when they were about Akako’s present age. She resisted the urge to pat Akako’s head or ask her to sit on her lap; that would only exacerbate the problem. Instead, she put a hand on Akako’s cheek, which felt softer than she remembered. “Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll find a way out of this.”
“I think I did,” Akako said.
“You did?”
Akako pulled back, even at her full height not much taller than Aggie as she sat on the floor. “I was in bed when I remembered something. This person I am now—Renee Kim—that’s not me. You know, the me of this place.”
“It’s not?”
“No. The me of this place is named Red Hartner. I looked him up in the phone book and he lives only a couple of miles away.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know. How is any of this possible?”
Aggie had to admit Akako had a point there; she didn’t understand how any of this worked. Aggie pulled herself up to her feet. Her legs wobbled for a moment before they steadied. “Do you think he can help us?”
“If he is the me of this place, then he should be able to find a way to contact someone from our universe and get help.”
“Right.” The nausea Aggie had felt earlier drained away with this renewed sense of purpose. “Let’s go find him.”
As at school, Aggie followed Akako, who seemed to know where she was going. If this Red Hartner could contact the rest of the Reds, one of them should be able to get word to Emma or Rebecca or maybe even Glenda. The coven would have to have some way to open another gateway to bring them back. If nothing else, someone could find Sylvia to get the spell back from her.
Aggie tried not to think what would happen at that point. To misuse magic, especially against another witch, was the greatest crime in the coven’s bylaws. Those found guilty would be stripped of their power at a minimum with the maximum penalty being death instituted in a variety of gruesome ways. If they found Sylvia guilty—
“There it is!” Akako said. She pointed excitedly to a white house up ahead.
Aggie noticed the flashing lights in front of the house first. She tried to grab Akako’s shoulder to pull the little girl back, but Akako had already broken into a run. “Akako, don’t!” Aggie shouted. She tried to catch up, but couldn’t.
She could only watch helplessly as Akako reached the crowd of firemen and police that had gathered in front of the house. A fireman tried to grab Akako, but she was too small and too quick; she darted past him to race towards the house. She made it as far as the front steps before she dropped to her knees. The wail Akako let out was enough to bring tears to Aggie’s eyes.
The inside of the house was completely black, with a large portion of the roof gone. Gray smoke still rose from the remains of the house, but the firemen now put their hoses back in their trucks, content the fire was under control. One of them tried to stop Aggie as she approached. “That’s my friend,” she said and pointed to Akako. “I’ll get her.”
“Just be careful,” the fireman said.
Aggie approached her friend slowly, dropping down next to her on the front walk. She put an arm around Akako’s shoulders, which shook as she sobbed. “Someone killed him,” Akako said. She rested her head on Aggie’s chest.
“We don’t know—” She stopped as paramedics rolled a gurney onto the remains of the porch. Aggie could make out a humanoid shape, but the sheet was pulled up so she couldn’t see a face. There was little doubt in her mind Akako was right. “It’ll be all right. We’ll find another way.”
Akako shook her head and looked up at Aggie with tear-filled eyes. “No we won’t.”
As the paramedics pushed the shrouded gurney down the front steps, Aggie knew Akako was right. Worse yet, she knew who had done this. There was only one person who knew they had come here: Sylvia.
Chapter 15
Sylvia dropped Emma onto the bed; the girl made a soft grunt as she landed on the mattress. Her eyes remained closed as they had throughout the trip, so far as Sylvia knew. Best of all, there had not been a second asthma attack as in the shop. Just in case, Sylvia had pressed the inhaler into Emma’s hand.
To get Emma out of the pickup had proven to be the most difficult part. Sylvia had carefully dragged the girl out of the truck’s bed and then slung Emma over her shoulder. Lucky for her in this form Emma weighed less and was several inches shorter, so that her limbs didn’t drag on the ground. The security guard who stopped her by the entrance proved to be no challenge at all.
“She was in my bar tonight. I thought I’d give her a ride back. Young girl like this, you never know who might take advantage of her otherwise,” Sylvia lied. The guard nodded and even held the door open for her.
Now Sylvia looked down at Emma and wondered if she should stay long enough to make sure the girl didn’t remember anything. Sylvia decided there was one last grim task that needed to be done in order to make sure. “I’m sorry about this,” she whispered as she took the dagger of Artemis from her pocket.
She held the blade over Emma’s chest. Her hand wavered. There’s no going back now, she told herself. She’d gone this far already; there was no sense to stop now out of squeamishness. She brought the knife down and slit open the front of Emma’s slip. After she pulled this aside, she cut off Emma’s bra and panties as well.
Sylvia opened the nearest set of drawers and rummaged around a stranger’s things until she found a nightgown. Emma still didn’t wake up as Sylvia raised her up from the bed to slip the nightgown over her head. The difficult part was to break Emma’s death-like grip on the inhaler without waking her. Sylvia wrestled the inhaler away a millimeter at a time until it was finally free. Thus she was able to get the nightgown down around the rest of Emma’s body. She pulled up the blanket to Emma’s chin.
“I’ll come back for you in a few days, I promise.”
She took the shredded undergarments with her as well as the inhaler. The latter item she considered leaving, but she couldn’t leave anything that might remind Emma of tonight. While one inhaler probably looked exactly like another, she didn’t want to risk it. She found the nearest dumpster and left the items under a pile of garbage.
For a long time she sat in the cab of the pickup, forehead pressed against the steering wheel as she cried. She had betrayed almost everyone she cared about: Aggie, Becky, and now Emma. The only one she hadn’t betrayed was Tim. He was all she had left now; she couldn’t imagine after this her sister or her friends would ever forgive her. From here on out it would be only Tim and her coworkers at the salon.
That is if the coven didn’t get wind of this. If they found out how she’d stolen that spell from the archives and turned it over to Ward after she’d used it on Aggie, they would strip her of her powers and then put her on trial. She knew full well the sort of punishments the coven could dole out, none of which were pleasant to think about. That she had misused her powers and Aggie’s potions to save the mortal she loved would get her deeper into trouble.
Someone would have to tell the coven first. If she never brought Aggie and that friend of hers back, then who would ever know? Emma and Becky. They didn’t know Glenda personally, but they could find out from that little worm Marlin.
Right on cue the ghost appeared in the passenger’s seat of the truck. “You really think you’re going to get away with this, you silly twit?” he said.
“I have gotten away with it.”
“Not yet.”
Sylvia turned to the ghost and tried to summon a confidence sh
e didn’t feel. “Aggie and her friend are gone, Emma is neutralized, and Becky is locked up. Who are you going to tell? A palm reader?”
“I’ll find a way. And when I do—”
“I still have the bone in my pocket. Get lost.”
“You won’t be able to hide what you’ve done forever. You think your conjurer friends won’t notice the Scarlet Knight has gone missing?”
“Maybe they’ll assume she’s dead.”
“Then someone would take her place.”
“Not necessarily. It took you thirty years last time.” Sylvia forced herself to smile. “There’s no Black Dragoon now anyway. She’s the end of the line.”
“No she’s not. She’s the first of the new line.”
“Oh, please. I never thought you were that naïve.”
“Maybe the girl is rubbing off on me.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Sylvia thought about it for a moment. Of course Emma would forgive her. She was the Scarlet Knight, with a heart so pure and noble it had destroyed that bitch Isis. Emma would hear Sylvia’s motives, they would both have a good cry about it, and then at the end of the day they would hug and that would be that. Becky would be far less forgiving, but Emma would help smooth that over too and Becky wasn’t clever enough to find Glenda on her own. As for Aggie, she knew about the coven’s rules; she would try to keep things quiet to protect her baby sister. She would convince that little friend of hers to go along with it. That left only Marlin. No one in the coven liked him or trusted him because of his connection to Merlin. If the others denied his story, then nothing he said would matter. “I think you’d better get out of here.”
“You haven’t won yet,” Marlin said as he faded away.
No, she hadn’t, but soon she would have Tim back and then she would wring that weasel Ward’s neck. After that, everything would go back to normal.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis Page 45