Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Wrath of Isis

by P. T. Dilloway

  “Not yet. There’s always a first time.”

  “That’s true.” Cecelia nibbled at her ham sandwich; she didn’t feel hungry despite the grueling day of work. She supposed she would have to eat it since she ate for two. Despite the number of people she’d killed over the years, she had never killed an infant out of the womb or still in it—except perhaps for her own child. If she had stayed in that awful house until it was time to deliver, maybe the baby would have survived and she still could have escaped later. Or not. There was no way to know for sure.

  “You all right, kid?”

  “Huh? Oh, I’m fine.”

  “Don’t let Gert get to you. Her man died at Guadalcanal. Before that she was sweet as cherry pie.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “Yeah, never easy to lose a loved one.”

  “Have you lost anyone in the war?”

  “No. I don’t have any kids to be in it. Thank God.” The sadness in Sue’s voice clearly indicated she was not grateful not to have any kids. From the look of her, Cecelia figured Sue for the old maid type who now was too old to ever have any kids or probably to find herself a husband. That was why she had a soft spot for Maria.

  After they had finished their lunch, Sue helped Cecelia down from the pile of parts. “I’ll see you at the end of the day. Just keep your chin up, all right?”

  “I will. Thanks.” Cecelia waddled back into the factory, to find Gert and the others waited for her. She picked up the screwdriver and went back to work.

  ***

  Aggie sat up in the sandbox, not surprised to see the little girl with the red pigtails staring at her. Aggie’s first instinct was to call the girl Emma, until she remembered this was Joanna, who was in contact with the Reds like Akako, though from what the girl said, she wasn’t actually one of them. The little girl had special abilities that exceeded those of the Reds. She could actually pull people from other dimensions into her sandbox to communicate with them.

  “Hello, Joanna,” Aggie said.

  “Hello,” the little girl said. Her voice sounded like that of an adult.

  “Is there a reason you brought me here?” She thought of Akako on the floor of the archives and that assassin over her. “Is Akako dead?”

  “No. She says she’s fine. She’s worried about you. I told her you’d be OK.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. Thank you.”

  “She said Emma is gone. So is the one who was trying to kill her.”

  “Gone? Gone where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did they go together or separately?”

  “I don’t know!” Joanna began to cry. Her preternatural maturity melted away so that she seemed like a normal little girl. Aggie put a hand on the girl’s back. “It’s not fair. Mommy says I’m not supposed to interfere, but if I don’t then bad things happen.”

  “You’re doing a very good job, Joanna. I’m sure your mother will be proud of you.”

  “Last time she grounded me from the sandbox for two months.”

  “I’m sorry, dear. I’ll go back before you get into trouble.”

  “She thinks I’m a baby, but I’m not. I’m six-and-a-half years old!”

  “You’re right; you’re practically a grown woman.”

  “That’s what I told Mommy, but she didn’t believe me.”

  Aggie patted the little girl’s head and tried not to smile. From experience she knew children always wanted to grow up so fast. As soon as they did, they wished they hadn’t. Someday Joanna would yearn for her mommy’s protection, but by then it would be gone. “Give her some time to come around.”

  “OK.”

  “I’d best be getting back. Can you tell Akako that I love her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  As Aggie stepped into the sandbox, Joanna said, “She said something else. She said that the mean lady is your niece.”

  Aggie spun around and knelt down to take Joanna by the shoulders. “My niece? Are you positive that’s what she said?”

  Tears bubbled up in the girl’s eyes again. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Joanna, please. Think: did she really say that mean woman is my niece?”

  “Yes! Now let me go.”

  Aggie loosened her grip but didn’t let Joanna go quite yet. Her niece. Since Sophie had never given birth to any children, that could only refer to Sylvia’s daughter, the one she had mentioned just before she died. “Did she say anything else? Think carefully. This is important.”

  “She said her name is Ce…Ce—”

  “Ce-what? Come on, Joanna, you can remember it. I know you can.”

  “Cecelia,” Joanna said. “She said her name is Cecelia.”

  Aggie pulled the little girl in closer for a hug. “Thank you, dear. Did she say anything else at all?”

  “She said to use the computer. That’s all. I swear!”

  “Thank you so much, dear. I suppose I’d better go now.” She stepped into the center of the sandbox—

  —and woke up staring at the ceiling of the archives. She found a dark blue stain on her thigh from the knife the assassin had thrown at her. The assassin named Cecelia, who was Sylvia’s daughter if what Akako had told Joanna was true. Given Sylvia’s penchant for violence and weapons, that her daughter would kill people for money wasn’t much of a surprise.

  What made less sense was that the girl would have to be over a hundred fifty years old by now. How had she managed to keep herself young and not come under the coven’s notice? Aggie saw the computer on Akako’s desk and remembered what Joanna had said. There might be some information on there to shed some light on matters.

  Aggie limped over to the desk and dropped into Akako’s seat. She typed in Akako’s password and then waited while the system loaded. Once it did, she set to work to find out more about her niece.

  Chapter 15

  It didn’t surprise Emma to find that Aggie hadn’t changed much in the last twenty years. The witch had spells and potions that could make her as young as she wanted to be for as long as she wanted to be. She had allowed herself to grow a little older; a few crow’s feet crinkled around the corners of her eyes when she greeted Emma.

  The house didn’t look all that different either, except for the pictures on the walls. There was a photograph of Renee when she couldn’t be more than five, in a pink dress Aggie had salvaged from the estate of some princess or countess a hundred years ago. Akako squatted to one side of the little girl and Aggie on the other; all three of them smiled like a happy family. There was another picture of Louise, probably no more than twelve but clad in a green cap and gown. Renee had an arm around her shoulder; they both smiled hugely. Emma put a hand to her lips and barely held back tears at this. She hadn’t noticed any pictures like these around her house; did she have a photo album somewhere or did she just not care enough to take pictures of her daughter?

  “The tea’s ready in the kitchen, dear,” Aggie said.

  Emma sat down at the kitchen table, in front of the cup Aggie had poured for her. “Thank you.” She kept her eyes on the checkered table cloth as she asked, “Are you sure it was wise to let them go out alone?”

  “They’re almost grown women. We have to let them test their wings. Can’t keep them in the nest forever. Trust me, dear.”

  “Maybe, but they aren’t grown women yet.”

  “They never will be if you don’t learn to trust them.” Aggie reached across the table to pat Emma’s hand. “She’s already been living on her own for seven years.”

  “And she’s gotten into plenty of scrapes in that time,” Emma said. While she might not have found a photo album, she did manage to access Louise’s police record, which was spotted with arrests for shoplifting and underage drinking. “She needs some discipline.”

  “The girl’s spent her whole life pushing herself to be better than you. Can you blame her for needing to blow off steam?”

  “I don’t want her to be better than
me. I just want her to be herself.”

  “Have you told her that?”

  “Would it matter if I did?”

  “I suppose not. She has her father’s stubbornness.”

  Emma thought of Jim still in the sewers, refusing to see his daughter for the last twenty years because he was afraid to hurt her while he expressed his love the best way he knew how, through his art. “I guess so. What about Renee? Aren’t you worried about her?”

  “Of course I am, dear. What kind of father would I be otherwise?”

  “But you let them go anyway.”

  “Renee’s getting too big for me to stop. Too big and too powerful.” Aggie sighed and then finished her cup of tea. “She’s not really home for the semester break. The coven decided it would be best if they not continue her training.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s become too dangerous, at least in their minds. They’re afraid of what will happen if she turns that power of hers against them.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to train her how to use it properly then?”

  “They’re leaving that part of her training to me. They think she’ll be more receptive that way. She can be a very headstrong little thing when she wants to be. Probably gets that from her father’s side of the family.”

  They shared a laugh at this and then Aggie patted Emma’s hand. “Now, dear, don’t tell me you came here to share some tea and conversation. What’s really on your mind?”

  “Louise found something in the desert. A book. I think it belonged to Isis.”

  “Oh dear. Are you sure?”

  “She says the title is the Book of Isis.”

  “That’s very bad news indeed.”

  “I’ve hidden the book. Someplace safe, where Isis or her minions can’t get it, but I need to know how to destroy it.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea, dear? You’re not even sure what it is yet.”

  “I’m not sure I want to know. I can feel the evil coming off of it like a bad smell.”

  “And you want my help to get rid of it?”

  “I thought maybe the coven would know about it.”

  “I haven’t heard of any Book of Isis. Glenda might know. And I can ask Akako to search the database in the archives.”

  “Thank you.” Emma took a sip of tea before she said, “Marlin thinks I should give it my heart. Like I did to her.”

  “I think that’s a bit premature, dear. Merlin might not be so generous this time as to allow you to come back.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Emma was about to stand up and thank Aggie for the tea when Marlin appeared over the kitchen table. She hadn’t seen the ghost look so agitated since Isis had shown up in the city twenty-two years ago. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’d better get to the museum. Right away.”

  “What? Why?”

  “He’s back.”

  “Who?”

  “Him. The Black Dragoon,” Marlin said.

  ***

  There wasn’t time to drive to the museum, so Emma asked Aggie to vanish her there. “Put me in the Sanctuary,” she said. “He won’t be down there yet.”

  “Be careful, dear. This isn’t going to be the same Black Dragoon.”

  “I know.” Emma looked down sadly at her feet. “Can you make sure Louise gets home all right? And just in case—”

  “Don’t talk like that, dear. You’ll be fine.” Aggie took her hand. “And I’m sure she already knows.”

  With that there was a flash of light and then Emma found herself in the Sanctuary. The armor had returned to its case, where she found it piled on top of the book. The book that the Dragoon had surely come for; the timing of his appearance and that of the book seemed far too coincidental for it to be anything else.

  She strapped on the armor and ran through a breathing exercise to combat her nerves. From what Marlin had said, Emma assumed she hadn’t fought the Black Dragoon since that last time in the temple of Isis, when she thought she’d finally destroyed it. Clearly she had been wrong. Unless it wasn’t a real Black Dragoon up there but just someone who’d constructed a similar suit of armor. There would be only one way to find out.

  Marlin appeared as she finished with the breastplate; her fingers felt even heavier than before. “He’s up on the third floor. In your daughter’s office.”

  “That makes sense,” she said. She expelled a deep breath. “He wants the book.”

  “That figures. I knew that thing was nothing but trouble.”

  “I know.” Emma reached into the case for the helmet. She stared at it for a moment before she donned it. The Dragoon had been a difficult enough opponent when she was young. She thought of the difficulty she’d had with the Finns last night; they were nowhere near the Dragoon’s league. Still, there was nothing else she could do but go up there and try; that was the duty she’d taken upon herself when she put on the armor so long ago.

  She took the elevator to the second floor and then wrapped the cape around herself. From what Marlin said, the security guards were already dead and the alarms neutralized. She didn’t know how the latter had been accomplished, except perhaps that the Dragoon had an accomplice, maybe someone who worked in the museum.

  She had more than enough experience of moving with the cape around her body that she didn’t find it much of a challenge to climb up the stairs to the third floor. “He’s still in there ransacking the place,” Marlin said. She nodded to him and then crept into the hall.

  The third floor had changed drastically since she first worked on it. The old hallway with its white walls and frosted-glass doors had been replaced with entirely glass walls and doors so that tour groups—and donors—could see the scientists hard at work. As she passed by her old department, she saw no one still at work this late. That would at least keep the number of casualties down—for the moment. If the Dragoon got loose, she didn’t want to think how many more people would die.

  After she passed by the Geology area, she rounded the corner to the Anthropology section. This housed the Egyptology office, as well as various other specialties. Emma could hear something slam against the floor, no doubt the Dragoon as he continued to ransack the office to find the book. As she slid forward, she put one hand to the Sword of Justice’s hilt.

  The Dragoon hadn’t bothered with subtlety and simply smashed into the Egyptology office. Emma tried to step on as little glass as possible, though it didn’t matter with the noise the Dragoon made. He picked up Louise’s desk and spilled its contents onto the floor.

  Emma paused in the doorway; her stomach turned to a cold lump. The Dragoon looked just as she remembered the first time she’d fought him in the old Dibbler Sausage plant when she had naïvely gone to rescue Percival Graves. By all rights she should have died that night; if not for a lucky throw of the Sword of Justice she would have. There was a slight difference in the Dragoon’s size; he looked several inches taller and a good fifty pounds heavier, which was probably due to who wore the armor. She didn’t want to dwell on who that might be.

  She decided not to waste time with any kicks or throws. Instead she would do as Marlin always suggested and just sneak up as close as she could to jam the Sword of Justice into him. Once she got him down on the ground, she could worry about who was inside—and how the wearer had gotten the suit of armor in the first place.

  She took a careful step forward to make as little noise as possible. The Dragoon hurled Louise’s desk through a glass wall, into the lab. Then he picked up Dan’s desk to shake it out onto the floor. Emma inched closer and tightened her grip on the Sword of Justice. She took another step forward—

  The Dragoon turned around, Dan’s desk still clutched in his hands. Emma saw the Dragoon’s eyes turn from red to green—the green of night vision goggles. “I see you,” he growled as he hurled the desk at her.

  Emma let the cape drop as she ducked and drew the Sword of Justice in one motion. She brought the weapon up; the blade glowed as brightly as the sun. B
efore the Dragoon could fire the claws on his hands, she hurled the sword at him and guided it to slice into his left leg. The Dragoon dropped to one knee, but aimed all ten claws at her. Unable to go invisible, she knew there was only one thing to do. She waited until the Dragoon fired the claws and then bounced into the air.

  It wasn’t a high bounce, but it was enough for her to clear the claws—almost. The claws on the Dragoon’s thumbs grazed the sides of her calves so that she landed face-first. Before she had a chance to push herself back up, the Dragoon seized hold of her cape. She heard the cape tear away from around her neck.

  As the Dragoon triumphantly tossed the cape away, Emma reared up and hit him across the face with a right hook. Then she scrambled to her feet to seize the Dragoon with both hands. Even with the augmented strength of the armor, she found it like hefting an elephant. Still, she managed to hurl him through the front door to the Egyptology department.

  She called the Sword of Justice back to her hand and then started towards the Dragoon, who lay on his stomach. Before he could raise his right hand to fire the regenerated claws there, she stomped on his hand. She leveled the Sword of Justice at the Dragoon’s neck and said, “It’s over. Take off the armor and I’ll spare your life.”

  “You haven’t won anything,” the Dragoon hissed. As he said this, spikes came up through Emma’s boot to stick out the other side. She cried out in pain and pulled her foot back from the Dragoon’s arm.

  She didn’t have time to fall backwards before the Dragoon was back on one knee and seized her by the breastplate. She tried to bring the Sword of Justice down, but he knocked her hand aside; the golden sword fell to the floor. Then he got to his feet and hefted her like the desks earlier. Before she could call for the Sword of Justice, the Dragoon threw her out the doorway, over the railing.

  If she still had the cape she could have slowed her descent to land safely on the first floor. Instead, there was nothing she could do as she plummeted like one of her meteors, onto the skeleton of Alex the mastodon. She smashed through the center of the mastodon’s backbone before she finally came to a stop inside the pedestal. Alex’s body collapsed onto her to bury her beneath the ancient bones.