Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis

by P. T. Dilloway

“Not really.”

  Dr. Pavelski looked her in the eye. “Not really or no?”

  Emma looked down at the white floor tiles and her face turned warm. She had always been a private person; she hadn’t told Aunt Gladys about her first period until three weeks after the fact when her aunt found bloodstained sheets hidden in a closet. Now she was supposed to tell her OB/GYN every tiny detail about her body’s functions. “Sometimes—very rarely—I’ve felt all three of those. Not at the same time, of course.”

  “Well that’s a relief.” Dr. Pavelski laughed, but Emma didn’t join in. “Look, Emma, I know this is difficult for you. If you want, I know some support groups for unwed mothers. It might be just the thing for you, so you don’t feel so alone.”

  Emma felt her face turn warmer at the phrase, “unwed mother.” She imagined herself in a church basement with a bunch of sixteen-year-old girls. She had felt like a sixteen-year-old when she went into the drugstore to buy the pregnancy test, unable to meet anyone’s gaze as she bought it and then stuck it into her coat pocket. She’d taken the test in the Sanctuary and made certain Marlin didn’t eavesdrop on her. That test she’d burned in a trashcan so Jim or any of his friends couldn’t find it. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice hollow.

  “You don’t sound fine to me. A lot of women struggle with depression during and after the pregnancy. Have you had any suicidal thoughts?”

  “No!” Emma looked up at the doctor, a hand on her lips. “I’d never do that.”

  “I’m just making sure. Pregnancy isn’t only about the physical health; we’ve got to consider the entire package.”

  “I understand.”

  “Hey, I think you’re going to be just fine. You and your little girl.”

  “Thanks, Laura.”

  “Now, I want to see you back here in two weeks. In the meantime you keep taking your vitamins and all that good stuff to make sure this kid comes out as strong and pretty as her mom.” Dr. Pavelski moved her hand down to Emma’s stomach. “You hear me in there?”

  “Thanks again,” Emma said and then slid off the table. Dr. Pavelski flashed her a smile and a wave before she disappeared from the room to see her next patient, which left Emma alone in the room.

  She took off the paper examination gown and then frowned. She could clearly see the bulge in her midsection now. She was “showing” to use the popular parlance. Up to this point she’d used loose T-shirts and blouses along with jackets and sweaters to mask the pregnancy from her supervisors, students, and Jim.

  The latter worried her the most. She would have to tell him at some point he was the baby’s father. There was no way to deny that, as she had never made love to anyone else—at least not in her own body. Jim Rizzard, known as the Sewer Rat to most of Rampart City, was the only possible candidate. He had a right to know, didn’t he?

  She put on her clothes and then put a hand to her stomach as Dr. Pavelski had, and as Becky had numerous times already. She tried to feel the baby, but at the moment she felt nothing.

  ***

  The last ones to arrive—except for the guest of honor herself—were two students at Rampart State whom Emma had befriended. In the way the dark-haired, serious Amanda Murdoch loomed protectively beside the shy, nervous Megan Putnam reminded Becky Beech so much of herself and Emma. In another five or ten years, maybe Amanda would throw a baby shower for Megan.

  “Glad you could make it,” Becky said. “Everyone else is in the living room. Help yourself to some punch—or something stronger if you want.”

  “Great, I could use a drink,” Amanda said. She tried to pull Megan towards the living room, but the smaller girl didn’t want to go quite yet.

  Like Emma, Megan looked down at her feet as she nearly whispered, “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Becky said.

  Megan’s chalky skin turned rosier as she said, “It’s just that Dr. Earl seems like such a private person. I mean, she hasn’t actually said anything to anyone, has she?”

  As much as she hated to admit it, Becky supposed the girl had a point. Emma had not officially told anyone other than Becky. From experience, Becky knew Emma didn’t like to be a center of attention, though she’d found herself as one often enough in any case. Becky shook her head. Fuck modesty; Emma deserved this party, deserved a room of people happy for her.

  “I think she’ll be fine once she gets over the initial shock,” Becky said.

  “Well, OK then.” Megan finally allowed her roommate to pull her away. Amanda whispered something into Megan’s ears that made the girl blush even more.

  Becky followed the girls into the living room and surveyed the scene to make sure everything was just right. Besides Megan and Amanda, Becky had invited Aggie Chiostro, her girlfriend Akako, Becky’s younger sisters Bambi and Brandi, and Emma’s colleagues from Rampart State, at least those who could make it. In all there were only thirteen people, but she supposed that would have to be enough. She checked the punch, the snacks, napkins, plates, and cups to make sure they wouldn’t run out. She wanted everything to be perfect.

  While many baby showers had a theme, with special party favors and games and such, Becky hadn’t planned anything like that. She knew Emma wouldn’t like that. She had never done theme parties, not even for her birthdays as a kid. Back then Emma had been content to go to the Plaine Museum with her parents and Becky, with maybe a stop for some ice cream on the way home. That attitude hadn’t changed over the years.

  Aggie took Becky’s arm and said, “This is a very nice thing you’re doing for Emma, dear. I think she could use some levity. She’s looked so forlorn lately.”

  “It hasn’t been easy for her,” Becky said. That was an understatement. Besides the fact the baby’s father lived in the sewer and spent most of his time with rats, Emma also had her two jobs—one teaching and one beating the shit out of criminals. To juggle all of that would be enough to make anyone forlorn. Becky would have gone crazy after the first trimester.

  Before Becky could say anything else, her sister Brandi took her arm and pulled her aside. “I don’t remember you doing this for any of us,” Brandi, the eternal party pooper, said. “You probably wouldn’t do shit for me.”

  “If you get pregnant I’ll knock you upside the damned head,” Becky said.

  “Yeah? What makes precious Emma getting knocked up so special?”

  “She has a real job for starters. She’s not still living in a trailer and working ten hours a week at some greasy spoon.” Becky knew it had been a mistake to let Brandi come along, but Bambi had needed a ride and so the obnoxious little snot had come along to ruin things like she always did.

  “We both know you’re only doing this because you know you’ll never have any kids. You’ve always lived vicariously through her.”

  “Listen, you little punk—”

  Bambi, the sunnier of the two, bounced into the room. “She’s coming!”

  Becky twisted Brandi’s arm hard enough to make her sister wince. “You’d better behave yourself or I’ll break your fucking head open.” Then she put on her sunniest smile and took her place in the center of the living room.

  It wasn’t late enough yet for the living room to be entirely dark even with the blinds closed. Still, Becky hoped the others would be hidden well enough. She heard the front door open and then shut with a soft click. Becky called out, “Emma, could you come in here for a minute? There’s something I need to ask you.”

  “Oh, sure,” Emma said. The moment her friend shuffled into the room, Becky signaled Bambi, Aggie, and Akako to raise the blinds and let sunlight flood in.

  “Surprise!” Becky crowed as the others all came out of hiding.

  Emma stood in the doorway, both hands pressed to her red face so Becky couldn’t tell if her friend was happy or horrified. Becky put an arm around Emma’s shoulders, to give her a little shake. She gestured with her other hand to the stack of gifts in one corner and the cake beside the snacks and punch. �
��It’s all for you.”

  When Emma’s hands lowered, Becky could see Megan Putnam had been right. Emma looked on the verge of tears—and not tears of joy. “This is very nice,” she said just above a whisper.

  Still, Becky wouldn’t let things unravel without a fight. She steered Emma over to the couch. “You didn’t really think I wasn’t going to throw you a shower, did you?”

  “No, I guess not. Thank you.”

  “Bring those gifts over here, would you?” Becky said. She took the first one off the pile. Even without reading the label, she recognized Aggie’s neat, curly letters.

  Emma’s hands moved stiffly, as if by remote control to remove the paper carefully; she didn’t tear it the way Becky always did. Inside the paper was a white box that could only contain clothes, which made sense since Aggie worked as a seamstress. Emma took out a long pink gown.

  “That’s the christening gown used for Clarissa Robinson,” Aggie said. Becky shivered at this; Aggie’s clothes always seemed to come from someone no longer alive.

  “That’ll be embarrassing if it’s a boy,” Becky said, to inject some humor.

  “No, she’s right. It’s a girl.”

  “Really? You’re sure?” Becky asked. Emma nodded. “That’s wonderful! I’ll finally have someone to give makeup tips to, since those two over there never listen to me.”

  Brandi looked ready to say something, but Becky silenced her with a glare. Meanwhile, Emma had set aside Aggie’s box with a polite thank you before she moved on to the next one. There were stuffed toys, rattles, and a wooden high chair from Megan and Amanda that seemed far too expensive for a pair of college students. “It was my mother’s,” Megan said. The redness of her face almost matching Emma’s.

  “My contribution was to carry it down the steps for her,” Amanda said. Perhaps she, like Becky, wanted to inject some humor into the situation.

  Again Emma didn’t respond. She ran a hand along the varnished wood and nodded to herself. “It’s very beautiful. Thank you both.”

  Becky took Emma’s arm and put on her warmest smile. “My gift is upstairs. Come on, we’re taking a little field trip.”

  She led the way up the steps to the second floor. Along the way she watched Emma’s face, which was a mask of neutrality at the moment. With a deep breath, Becky opened the door to the guest bedroom. “Here it is.”

  It hadn’t been easy to convert the guest bedroom into a nursery without Emma’s knowledge. During Emma’s late classes this week, Becky had called Dan over and they had hauled the bed up into the attic as well as the nightstand and dresser. Then they’d brought up the changing table and crib; they assembled these a little at a time and hid them in the closet before Emma came home.

  This morning Becky had moved the changing table to the side of the room, where the old dresser had been and placed the crib in the center. She’d hung a mobile of dancing bears—which she thought were suitably unisex—over the crib. “Now that we know what the little critter is going to be, we can get some paint and wallpaper—”

  She stopped as she realized Emma was crying. “I’m sorry,” Emma whispered and then ran down the hall. Her bedroom door slammed shut behind her.

  Becky started towards the bedroom, but Aggie put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll talk to her, dear. You entertain your guests.”

  Becky nodded. Though Aggie looked about twenty-one, she was in actuality five hundred eighteen, with a whole family tree to her credit. If anyone could get through to Emma, it would be the witch. “Right. Come on, let’s take it back downstairs.” She forced a smile to her face. “You know how those hormones are. She’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

  At least Becky prayed that was all it was.

  ***

  When she heard the door open, Emma assumed it was Becky to try to lure her back to the party. Curled up on the bed, in the fetal position ironically enough, Emma sobbed into a pillow. She didn’t move even as she felt a hand pat her on the back.

  “It’s all right, dear,” Aggie said. “Let it all out.”

  “I’m sorry,” Emma said through the pillow. “I’m acting horribly.”

  “That’s nonsense. No one’s going to blame you. This is a very tough situation.”

  Emma pulled the pillow away from her face and turned her head to face Aggie. Despite the witch’s smooth face and golden hair, her eyes were still those of a much-older woman, someone with far more experience than Emma on this. “I don’t know what to do,” Emma finally said. She put a hand to her stomach. “What kind of mother can I be?”

  “Is that what’s worrying you?” Aggie asked and Emma nodded. “You’ll be a wonderful mother, dear. She’ll be lucky to have such a sweet, kind woman for her mother.”

  “But how long will she have me?” Emma looked out the window, at the street below. She imagined her mother on the asphalt, blood pooled beneath her. “I don’t want what happened to me to happen to her. I don’t want her to be alone.”

  “You weren’t alone. You had your aunt and Rebecca. As long as she has people who love her, she’ll never truly be alone.”

  “But how can I take care of her? I have my job and my other job.” Emma thought back to her appointment with Dr. Pavelski. “I hardly have any free time even to sleep; how am I supposed to raise a child?”

  “We’ll help you. Rebecca and I and I’m sure Akako will help when she’s here.”

  “What kind of life is that for her? For either of us? Bouncing from one babysitter to the other.” Emma put a hand to her stomach. “Maybe it’d be better if I put her up for adoption.”

  “You shouldn’t say such a thing, dear.”

  “But it’s true. She’d be better off with a family who can give her the love she deserves.”

  “If you do that, you’ll only regret it later. Trust me.”

  “You gave one of your children up for adoption?”

  “No, dear. Not me. Sylvia did.” Aggie explained that shortly before she died, Sylvia had told her sister about an affair with Aggie’s husband, which had produced a daughter. There hadn’t been time to get the full story, so Aggie had gone to Glenda, the head of her coven, who confirmed Sylvia had given birth to a daughter and put her up for adoption. No one knew what became of the girl, least of all Sylvia. “She carried that burden around with her for almost two hundred years. You don’t want that.”

  Emma turned her eyes to the floor; she didn’t want to look Aggie in the eye as she confessed, “After I knew for sure, I thought about an abortion.” She waited for the witch to say something, but there was only silence. “I checked out some clinics and I picked up the phone to call one.”

  “But you couldn’t go through with it.”

  “How could I? I’m supposed to be the Scarlet Knight; I’m supposed to save lives.” Another wave of tears wracked her body; she pressed her hand to her face. “But how can I raise her knowing that my first reaction was to kill her?”

  “But you didn’t. That’s what matters.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Every woman goes through this the first time. And the second. And the third.”

  “Even you?”

  “Especially me. How could I raise a child and still be a witch? How could I watch that child grow old and die while I could be young and beautiful forever?”

  “What did you decide?”

  “That I would love my children and do my best.” Aggie squeezed Emma’s hand again. “That’s all anyone expects of you, dear. That’s all she can expect of you. She won’t always know that—especially when she’s a teenager—but eventually she’ll understand.”

  Emma considered this for a moment and then nodded. “What do I do about Jim? I couldn’t ask him to give up his life down there for me—for us.”

  “Let him decide, dear. He’s a grown-up, just like you.”

  “I haven’t acted like one, though, have I?”

  “It’s the hormones, dear. And believe me when I say it’ll get worse before it gets better.” Ag
gie pulled her hand away and then stood up. “Still, I think you owe Rebecca an apology.”

  “I know. She worked so hard and I ruined everything.”

  “It’s not going to be easy for her either. Remember that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve said too much already.”

  “Aggie—”

  “Rebecca will never have a child of her own. The poor dear.” Aggie turned back around; her face suddenly looked much older. “Remember that when you go back downstairs, but don’t say anything.”

  “But we can’t—”

  “These things have to play themselves out. I’m sorry I told you. I’d get in big trouble with Glenda if she knew. We’re not supposed to interfere with your lives like that.”

  “I won’t say anything. I promise.” Emma gave Aggie an awkward hug and then they went back downstairs, where Becky sat on the couch. The party had come to a standstill; silence hung over the room as Emma stood in the doorway. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t—”

  “Even if it was the hormones I shouldn’t have done that. You’ve all been so kind to me.” She put a hand to her cheek and felt another wave of tears about to flow. “I think you get the idea,” she said.

  Becky led her back to the couch to sit with her and try to joke the trouble away. Though she smiled plastically, Emma thought of what Aggie had said, that Becky would never be the star of her own baby shower. As promised, Emma held her tongue, to let Becky enjoy the moment.

  Chapter 2

  The old phrase “a fly on the wall” had never had so much meaning for Emma as she guided the fly through a curtain of glittery streamers to enter the backstage area. Through the display on her computer, she could see a line of still-clothed women clad in costumes of schoolgirls, cowboys, and nurses among others. Emma didn’t key in the sound yet, not particularly concerned with what the strippers had to say to each other.

  For seven years she had tried to infiltrate the Plastic Hippo, where Don Vendetta based operations for her criminal empire. Emma had tried to use the armor, but the don had video cameras that could see her. About six months earlier she and Sylvia had tried to modify the armor so she could go undetected, but all she’d received for her trouble were bruises. She had thought to try to go undercover as a stripper, but Becky assured her the don’s people would find out the moment Emma went on stage and turned red from head to toe.