The Dark Side of Eleanor Warwick

Dropping the sword, Jessie falls to the floor. Hugging her knees, she slowly rocks back and forth. She weeps softly. Sniffing, she lifts her head. “Hell of a night, right, Warwick?”

She wipes her eyes and looks over, but finds no one there. “Warwick?”

Picking up the sword, Jessie looks up into the only loft with lights on. The loft she was flayed in. She springs up through the massive hole in the floor.

She looks over Madeline and Matthew’s bodies. With a scoff, she turns away from them. She finds Warwick standing by the table. “You okay?”

Eleanor doesn’t reply.

Jessie stiffens when Eleanor lifts one of the vials of her blood and turns it over in her hand. “What the fuck are you doing with that, Warwick?”

“Considering.”

“Considering what? That shit needs to be destroyed.”

“Oh, no. It’s far too valuable for that.”

“Yeah. To someone who wants to make a bunch of hellbloods.”

Eleanor turns to her and smiles before stepping over to the damaged opening in the wall. Jessie watches her. She can’t help an uneasy feeling. For the first time, she begins to question everything that happened this night. Her father had mentioned Eleanor being more powerful than before. Now that Jessie thinks about it, she was.

“You...you don’t want to make hellbloods, right, Warwick?”

Eleanor looks out over the city. Cold winds toss her curly mop. “I’ve let this city down. I’ve shirked my responsibilities. That has consequences. Consequences like the Blackwells. I’m supposed to be this city’s protector. It’s...leader.”

“Since when?”

“Since the day I was born.”

“Warwick, you’re starting to freak me out. What’s going on?”

“I’ve had a change of perspective. I know what I have to do now. To keep Carmadie safe, I need to bring it back under control.”

Jessie slowly looks over to the vials. “With...hellbloods?”

“Yes. Hellbloods.” She turns to face her. “But don’t worry. You won't just be one of the rank and file. I trust I can count on you to be a loyal lieutenant. Part of my inner circle.”

“Inner circle? Lieutenant? What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you?”

“What do you- ?”

“You are not Eleanor Warwick! Not the Eleanor Warwick I know!”

Eleanor’s face reddens. “The Eleanor Warwick you knew would be a stain on House Warwick’s carpet right now and you would be dumped in the fucking trash!” Jessie recoils as Eleanor’s voice takes on a dark echo. “Instead, your hated family is dead and you are safe! You’re welcome!”

Jessie just stares, bewildered.

“That’s enough, girl.”

Both turn to look at the door, shockingly still intact. Henry stands just inside the loft, his raincoat flapping slightly.

“You need to stop.”

“I’ve never been happier to see you, Willard. Talk some sense into her.”

Eleanor scowls at them both. “What do you want, Henry?”

“I’ve come for you. As you have for me.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“True. You need far more than that, but you’ll have to settle for me for now.”

"I don't have to do anything. Go home. I'll call you when I need you."

"No."

Eleanor crosses her arms. "Do as I say, Henry."

Jessie looks at her. "Who the fuck do you think you are, Warwick?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Henry answers.

Eleanor narrows her eyes. "Suit yourself. Jessie, remove him."

"Fuck you, Warwick. I'm not doing shit."

"I said, remove him. Now."

Jessie growls and steps up to her. "You going to fucking make me, Warwick?"

Eleanor smirks. "Yes. Remove him. And break a few bones while you're at it. To teach him a lesson."

Without a moment's hesitation, Jessie moves toward Henry. Henry takes a step back. He isn't prepared for this. He didn't think Eleanor would be so far gone already. Surprisingly, after a few steps, Jessie stops. Her muscles strain as she fights against herself. Veins bulge in her neck.

"What are you doing?" Eleanor asks sternly.

"Fight it, Jessie," Henry says.

Eleanor walks over beside her, scowling. "You can't defy me. Don't bother trying. Now do as I say and get rid of him!"

Jessie snaps her head around to glare hatefully at Eleanor. Before Eleanor can react, Jessie smashes her fist into Eleanor's face.

There's a tinkling sound of glass breaking. The shattered remnants of Eleanor's glasses hang in the air, light glinting off the damaged lenses. Eleanor drops hard onto her back and lies still. The pieces of her glasses clatter to the floor nearby.

Jessie stares, dumbfounded. She looks over at Henry. "I...shouldn't have been able to do that, right?"

"No."

"What the fuck is going on, Willard?" She jabs a finger at Eleanor. "What the fuck is that? That's not her."

"It is. But it's not."

"What do we do? We have to help her."

"I will do my best. You need to leave."

"Fuck that. I'm not going anywhere."

"You have to. Just because you defied the bond once doesn't mean you can do it again."

She growls. "I'm not leaving her! I don't know what the hell she did, but..." her demeanor softens, "I'm sure she did it to save me."

"She did."

Jessie quickly wipes a tear away. "I won't abandon her now."

Henry places a hand on her shoulder. "You are not abandoning her, but you can't help her right now. Maybe I can."

With a sniff, Jessie looks at Eleanor, motionless on the floor. "She can come back from this. She can beat it."

Henry only offers a nod. He hopes he looks more confident than he feels.

She jabs a finger into his chest. "Don't come back without her."

Jessie collects the Black Blade. She looks at Eleanor one more time before disappearing through the door.

Henry exhales. He hopes he made the right call. Jessie's presence may have been useful, but it may have also been a ticking timebomb. He walks over to the vials of Jessie's blood.

Moving past the bodies, he gives them a glance. He steps to the hole in the floor. Down below he spots the decapitated corpse of Alexander Blackwell. "Good riddance," he mutters scornfully.

The sound of movement brings him back to Eleanor. She slowly rolls onto her side, clutching her face. Henry steps closer, flexing his fingers. He doesn't intend to fight, but he will if he must.

Eleanor groans. She gropes around for her glasses and finds a few pieces. "Wonderful," she mutters. She comes to her knees and looks around, squinting.

"Are you alright, girl?"

Eleanor scoffs. "Girl."

"What?"

"In about six weeks I'll be 30 years old, Henry. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be referred to as girl when you're nearly 30 years old?" She suddenly screams. "How dehumanizing!"

Henry sighs. "I...yes. I'm sorry."

"What are you even doing here? I had everything under control."

"You don't have anything under control. That thing is in control. You need to snap out of it while you still can."

Eleanor stands, stretching her neck. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Henry. You have no idea what I've become. How I've transcended."

"Oh, you've transcended, have you? You've risen above the rest of us?"

"I...no. Not above."

"That's what transcended means."

Eleanor tousles her curly hair. "Stop it! You're just trying to get me twisted!"

"No, I'm forcing you to confront what you're actually saying. What that thing is making you think."

"No one is making me do anything! I mean I've risen above what I was!"

"You've fallen, is what you've done. Given in to a desire for power."

"Oh, yes! I'm so terrible! How dare I use power to save my friend and my city! I'm such an awful person!"

"I'm sure you would get no argument from yourself 12 hours ago."

"Shut up! You always do this! You make me feel an inch tall every time I make a mistake!"

"So you admit it was a mistake."

"I- ! No! It wasn't a mistake! God, I hate you!" Eleanor puts her face in her hands, slowly running them up into her hair. Her voice wobbles. "I...hate you sometimes."

Henry glances down at the floor. "I know."

"You're manipulative and condescending and you're a terrible mentor."

"Clearly," he says callously.

Eleanor flinches as if struck. Tears trickle down her round cheeks. "Well, I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment. I'm sorry I'm not good enough for anybody. I just...I just want to be what I'm supposed to be."

"And what's that?"

"A Warwick," she says softly.

Henry's scoff surprises her. "Jesus. Using that thing is probably the most Warwick thing you've ever done, I'll give you that. You are long overdue for a reckoning, Eleanor. I thought perhaps finding out about Martin Warwick would have forced you to seriously reconsider your attitude toward your illustrious family."

"What Martin did was horrible."

"Yes, but he was one in a long line."

Sniffing, Eleanor rubs her sinuses. "This is where you tell me that my grandparents were tyrants? I've already heard that from the Table."

"Your grandparents were no saints but tyrants is a bit ungenerous. They were, however, hungry for power and didn't much care about how they got it or what happened to anyone who got in their way. They were convinced they needed it."

"For what?"

"For protecting Carmadie, of course."

Eleanor shifts uncomfortably. "This...this is different."

"Oh, yes. It's always different. Your grandparents' pursuit of greater power, both magical and political, in the city made them quite a few enemies." Henry hesitates, wringing his hands. "Some of those enemies were...closer than they thought."

"I don't understand. How close? In the House?"

Henry stares firmly. "In the family."

Eleanor's mouth falls open. Her stomach churns and her skin feels hot. "No."

"Yes."

"No! You're lying!"

"Eleanor- ."

Snapping her arm out, unseen forces grip Henry's throat. She approaches furiously, bringing him to his knees. "You hate him! You've always hated him! Resented him! Liar!"

Henry tries to summon a spell, but the superior power of the Dark Force overwhelms him. "Eleanor," he rasps. "It's true. Gordon killed them."

Ripping her hand away, Eleanor stumbles back before falling to her hands and knees. Henry rubs his throat, quickly standing and preparing to defend himself. Eleanor whimpers softly, tears dropping onto the floor. "He...couldn't have."

"I'm sorry. He did. He prepared an incredibly powerful spell. It wasn't enough to kill them, he had to completely eradicate them. Leave no trace. Hence people believed they had vanished."

"What kind of spell?"

"I don't know. He refused to share it. But I know it came at a terrible price."

"What was it?"

Henry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "You."

Eleanor looks up with red, watery eyes. "What?"

"There's a reason you were never as powerful as the Warwicks who came before you. Gordon stripped away your potential to fuel the spell. He didn't even hesitate. He thought he could bring you up to be wary of power. So the past would not repeat itself. And yet, without realizing it, he was perhaps ensuring that very thing.

"He kept the Dark Force in his home. He rendered his daughter incapable of reaching beyond a certain level of magical ability. And then...he went and got himself killed. Leaving you to fend for yourself. Without his actions, none of this may have happened. You may have been able to stand up to the Blackwells without needing the Dark Force."

Eleanor rises up to her knees. "Why? Why did he do it?"

"To protect Carmadie. That convenient, all-encompassing justification."

Hanging her head, Eleanor looks down at her hands. "What have I done, Henry?"

"What you always do. You stood up to people most would run from. You saved your friends. You protected your city." Henry swallows, his voice cracking slightly. "And now you have to do it one more time."

He reaches down, offering his hand. Wiping tears away, Eleanor takes his hand and rises to her feet. "I don't know what to do, but I have to get the Dark Force away from Carmadie."

"Yes."

Smoothing out her jacket and adjusting her hair, she takes a calming breath. "I...I don't hate you, Henry."

"Yes, you do." He smirks. "Sometimes."

Eleanor smiles. "Maybe sometimes."

The two stare a moment before Eleanor throws herself into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest. Henry holds her tight, kissing her head.

Pulling away, Eleanor makes another vain attempt to dry her eyes. "Tell Penny I love her."

"I will."

"Tell Jessie...tell her...tell her she's free. Free from them. Free from me. She can live whatever life she chooses for herself."

Henry nods solemnly.

Looking at the table, she waves her hand. The vials of blood burst and burn away like water on a hot sidewalk.

Taking one last look at her mentor, Eleanor turns away. She takes a deep breath and focuses. The dark wisps return, swirling around her like a torrent. Henry squints through the twirling mass, trying to see her as long as he can.

Suddenly, the cyclone bursts. Henry staggers back, covering his face. When he lowers his arm, she's gone. Black scorch marks spread along the floor from where she was standing.

He steps to the opening and looks out over Carmadie. The first lights of the morning are beginning to appear. Sighing mournfully, he turns his head to the sky.

"Goodbye, Eleanor."