The People v. Eleanor Warwick

Pedestrians make their way down Riverside Drive as a nasty traffic backup starts to move.

Nearby the dark waters of the Lampton churn briskly under the force of the chilling winds. Some citizens and tourists alike stop along the paths of the park to gaze out across the expanse.

The view across the water is certainly better from Ferryside. Ferrytown can look upon the lights of the entire city. It’s beautiful. From Cityside, however, one can only look upon Ferrytown, with its massive ship-loading cranes and transport depots.

A passerby in a dark suit stops along the railing and sits his briefcase down. It’s been another long day and it’s time for his one cigarette before heading home. Lighting up, he takes a few puffs as he loosens his tie. He watches the waves as he wonders whether his life is really going anywhere.

When a wet hand reaches up and grasps the railing from the other side, he barely even notices. It isn’t until a young woman in a dark hoodie rolls over the barricade and drops to the concrete that he looks over.

Coughing violently, Jessie staggers to her feet and peels her dripping-wet hair from her face like saran wrap. Seeing the man staring at her, she approaches him and casually takes the cigarette out of his mouth. Too stunned to move, he just watches her take a long drag. Blowing the smoke into the chilly air, she coughs slightly before handing it back to him.

“Thanks,” she mutters. Returning to the rail, she reaches over and grabs something. With a surprisingly effortless yank, she pulls a second soaked swimmer over onto the walkway.

Eleanor spits water onto the pavement and shivers uncontrollably. Grabbing her arm, Jessie pulls her up. “Come on, Warwick. On your feet.”

Standing, Eleanor tries to shake the liquid from her ears. Scanning the area, she quickly gathers her bearings. The wizard takes note of the businessman who stands gawking at them.

“Evening,” she says with a slight chatter of her teeth. Returning to Jessie, Eleanor collects her satchel. “You couldn’t have grabbed my coat, too?”

“I was improvising.”

“We need to get to the House and get out of these clothes before we get pneumonia.”

“Can I even get sick?” Jessie asks. No sooner has she finished the question, than a hacking cough causes her to cover her mouth and hunch over.

“I’d say so, yes,” Eleanor answers before heading down the walkway. “Let’s go.”

An intense pain wells up in Jessie’s stomach as she barks into her hand. When the coughing subsides, she looks into her palm through watering eyes.

A small splattering of dark bile stains her skin.

Staring at the black blood, she tightens her fist around it. A snarl escapes her as she thinks about what Cassandra claimed is going to happen to her. Jessie didn’t believe her, but she can’t deny that something’s wrong.

“Jessie?”

Ignoring the pain in her innards, the hellblood springs to her feet. Turning to Eleanor, she brushes past her and starts out for House Warwick. Before she can get far, the wizard places a hand on her shoulder.

“Jessie.”

Spinning, she jerks herself away from her grasp. “What?”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine!”

“If something is wrong, you need to tell me.”

The concern in her eyes makes Jessie sigh and lower her voice. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’ll tell you otherwise, okay? Can we just get out of the fuckin’ cold now?”

Not convinced but too cold to stand in the street arguing, Eleanor nods and the two start down the walkway. House Warwick is not far and before long, they see the flashing lights of the four police cruisers forming a blockade around the front of the House. The duo stop short and take position behind a parked car.

“Hell, yes,” Jessie says while popping her knuckles. “I’m in the mood to kick somebody’s ass.” Eleanor’s sidelong glance causes her to drop her arms to the side. “But we aren’t gonna do that are we?”

“No.” Eleanor scans the scene. Six officers are present. Of course, none have approached the door. The House’s defenses would not allow it. Grey is having trouble making it through the traffic, she figures. Getting inside before she gets there seems prudent. “All right. Give me your hand.”

Jessie looks down at the wizard’s offered palm with an eyebrow raised. “We’re just gonna walk right by them, aren’t we?”

“Yes.”

“Without hitting any of them?”

“Yes.”

“You suck, Warwick,” she groans, taking her hand.

Officer Bailey paces back and forth beside his squad car, nursing a cup of coffee.

He’s been a cop for most of his adult life and he’s been summoned to numerous homes of numerous suspects over the years. Each time they were instructions given regarding entry.

Sometimes it was “wait for backup”. Other times it was “proceed with caution”. This time, however, the feds told them to “not bother”.

He isn’t sure why that is exactly, but he and his colleagues did as instructed. The home in question belongs to an Eleanor Warwick. A quick check reveals no criminal record, but that doesn’t mean much.

It’s always the innocent looking ones you have to watch out for. Whoever she is, the feds are out for her in a big way. They closed off Riverside, then quickly opened up again as uniforms tried to clear the backup.

In the meantime, he and his guys just get to stand out on the street freezing their asses off. As he zips up his jacket, something suddenly strikes him in the back of the head. His hat falls off as he flinches.

“Jessie!”

Spinning, Bailey has a hand on his sidearm, ready to draw. However, he finds nothing behind him. Glancing around, none of his fellow officers notice his situation.

“Hey,” he calls, gaining their attention. “Did you guys see…Someone said…” The other cops look at each other and then back to Bailey. “I thought I heard…”

Not wishing to look insane, Bailey shakes his head. “Nevermind.” The officer bends down and picks up his hat. As he lifts it to his head, the red door to the House opens on its own, stays open for a second, and then closes again.

He turns to his co-workers again. “Okay, you had to have seen that!”

Again, blank stares are all he receives.

With a sigh, he turns back to the door. He stares for a moment, as if he expects it to do something else. The sudden squeal of tires gives him a start, causing him to drop his coffee.

Black SUVs roll up and the feds file out. Agent Grey, dripping wet for reasons Bailey can’t begin to guess, storms toward them. “Has anyone come or gone?” she inquires.

“No, ma’am,” one of the other officers answers.

She scans the area, including the faces of each of the uniforms. “No one?” Shaking heads are their answer. “Did any of you see anything? Anything at all? No matter how insignificant or strange?”

Bailey glances at the door. “Um, ma’am?” Grey levels her gaze on him. “Something, uh, hit me in the head and I heard somebody say something. I didn’t catch exactly what. Then the door opened and closed by itself.”

The agent steps up to him. “What did you hear?”

“I…I’m not sure. I think it might have been ‘juicy’ or something.”

Grey sighs heavily and steps away from him. “Jessie,” she mutters under her breath. “All right, everyone. Make yourselves comfortable. No one is leaving until Eleanor Warwick comes out of there.”

The officers look at each other quizzically as Grey walks back to her vehicle.

Henry swirls his glass of brandy as he sits in the library. “Seems a little hard to believe, girl.”

Drying her curly locks, Eleanor lays the towel across her shoulders. “Is it?”

Far more comfortable in her fresh set of clothes, Eleanor circles the library table as Henry and Marvin look on. “The alternative is to believe that a woman has become so obsessed with something that happened to her family over a century ago that she’s willing to destroy all of existence to avenge it.”

“It’s possible,” her mentor responds.

“Marvin.” The investigator sits up. “What’s your mother’s name?”

“Uh, Helen.”

“Grandmother?”

“Patricia.”

“Great-Grandmother?”

“Uh…” Marvin taps his fingers on the tabletop as he thinks. “I don’t…Olivia or something.”

“Exactly.” Eleanor turns her attention back to Henry. “Most people know nothing about their family beyond their grandparents. Then there’s Sandy Crane’s diary. How would she have gotten that?”

“Point taken, girl, but- .”

“Henry.” Eleanor takes a seat at the table. “You didn’t look in her eyes or hear her voice. It’s true.”

Taking a swig of his drink, the elder wizard concedes the point. “I suppose it would explain why she would try something so destructively insane.”

Marvin glances between them. “How?”

“Magic can sustain your physical body,” Eleanor answers, “but not your mind. Eventually, you’ll start to lose it. Your cognitive abilities will falter, you’ll begin to act irrationally, and there will be headaches, blackouts, and the like.”

“No one lives forever, Marvin,” Henry adds. “If she’s been around as long as she seems, then the lady Crane has got to be running out of time.”

“Hence the crazy, history-altering plan of her’s,” Eleanor finishes. “She’s going to die soon anyhow so what does she care if she tears apart reality on her way out.”

Marvin’s eyes widen as he looks back and forth between them. “Jesus Christ. She…she can’t do that now, right? You guys beat her, yeah?”

“Don’t worry, Marvin. She can’t do it without the Stone.”

“Speaking of which,” Henry asks, “where is it?”

With an awkward shift, Eleanor frowns. “I…don’t actually know for sure.”

“Oh, God!” Marvin jumps out of his chair and paces around nervously. “Don’t tell me that right after you tell me not to worry!”

“Calm down. Cassandra doesn’t have it anymore. That’s what matters. It was in my satchel, but it was gone when we got back. Hopefully, it’s at the bottom of the river. I suppose the other possibility is that Grey has it, which at this point I’m okay with. As long as Cassandra can’t use it.”

Marvin continues to pace, clearly not reassured. “Well, you guys know what you’re talking about, I guess.”

“Trust me, Marvin,” Eleanor stands. “Cassandra will perform that ritual over my dead body.” The investigator only nods. Satisfied, Eleanor heads for the door. “Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need some sleep. Badly.”

“Hey.” Eleanor stops and turns back to Marvin. “Jessie wasn’t looking too good. Is she okay?”

“No. She won’t admit it, but she’s not feeling well. She probably swallowed too much of the Lampton.”

“Which is any of the Lampton,” Henry injects.

“But she’s going to be fine, right?”

“Marvin. You need to relax.” Eleanor’s tone is sharper than she meant it to be, but she doesn’t feel bad about it. “I’ve already told you: She’s a hellblood. She’s pretty tough. I promise you, she’ll be fine.”

The handsome granite tiles are nice to look at, but they’re hard on the knees.

It was furthest thing from her mind when she first saw them. It’s incredibly relevant now, though. Jessie sweeps her hair from her face just in time for her to vomit violently. Again.

Kneeling in front of the toilet, she retches into the bowl. Lifting her head, strands of her hair cling to her face. Her skin is pale and clammy. Droplets of sweat run down her face. Her vision is dim and cloudy. A burning, stabbing pain in her stomach grows in intensity.

Looking down in the bowl, the clear water has given way to a pool of black. Slowly rising to her feet, she staggers to the sink and splashes water onto her face. Looking at her hands, diluted black liquid runs between her fingers. Glancing up at the mirror, she finds dark blood running down from her nose.

Before she could do anything about it, darkness bleeds into her vision. Grabbing the sink to steady herself, her balance falters. Her legs buckle and her body drops.

Her fingers slide across the marble countertop as they fail to stop her from collapsing to the tile.