The People v. Eleanor Warwick

Grey bursts out of the station and onto the cold streets.

Pulling her jacket closed, she briskly descends the stairs and searches for a cab. She pays no attention to the officer that walks past her. She has little reason to. Neither does anyone else.

The uniform enters the station and passes through security unchallenged. A few carefully asked questions direct the officer to the floor occupied by numerous federal agents. There, she steps into the ladies’ room and washes her hands over and over until she’s alone.

Tossing her cap aside, Cassandra stares at herself in the mirror as she lets her hair down and tousles it. She knows her privacy won’t last long, but she needs to take care to pull off her plan.

There are many wizards who assume a room full of ungifted with guns is not a threat to an all-power master of magic such as themselves.

All those wizards are dead.

Cassandra has no illusions about the danger she faces. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she summons her magic. The power flows through her body.

She watched Agent Grey from the shadows for hours. She studied her appearance, her walk, her mannerisms, her attitude.

Focusing on everything she learned, Cassandra casts a glamour; an illusion that changes her appearance. She can feel herself changing. Her hair, her skin, her eyes, even her height. When she looks at her reflection again, a different person looks back at her.

Giving herself a close inspection, Cassandra is satisfied she is the mirror image of the departed Agent Grey. Steeling herself, she steps out into the station proper. Confidently striding down the halls, Cassandra scans the area for the evidence room. Conveniently, large, stenciled letters clearly mark the right door.

Two officers stand on the outside of the caged storage area. Another two operate within. Standing to the side, pretending not to pay a suspicious amount of attention, she watches the evidence exchange process.

It seems simple enough at first. The clerks give the plastic pouches a tag, scanned it, and place it in a bin. The problem comes when one of the officers places his thumb onto a small scanner.

Cassandra grimaces. Technology is so often the enemy of the wizard. It’s a fairly simple matter to make herself look like Agent Grey, but there is no possible way she could identically match her thumbprint. Preparing to take a more aggressive action, she flexes her fingers.

“Ms. Grey.”

The voice makes Cassandra stiffen. Ms. Not Agent. Something has changed. Turning to the tall, stocky man before her, she falls under more scrutiny than she’s comfortable with.

Henderson looks her up and down. “There something I can do for you?”

Talking to people who know Grey was never a part of her plan. Cassandra must proceed carefully. “I need to see the Stone.”

Henderson looks past her to the counter. “Out of the system already? They don’t waste time, do they?”

“No.” Henderson’s words seem civil enough, but she can sense hostility beneath them. Regardless of what has changed about Grey’s status, the woman displayed a strong sense of authority. “You’ll have to get it for me,” she says sternly.

Eyes slightly narrowed, Henderson stares for a moment. Cassandra grows increasingly nervous until he finally answers, “Fine.”

When the agent walks past her, Cassandra sighs quietly before quickly composing herself and turning to face the counter. Henderson requests the bag and places his thumb on the scanner.

His picture and security clearance pop up on the clerk’s screen. Satisfied, the officer retrieves the Stone, scans its tag, and hands it over.

The clerk slides a clipboard to the agent and Henderson jots his name. Turning to Cassandra, he steps to the side and motions to the papers. Taking the cue, she steps up to the counter. Turning so that the agent can’t get a good look at her signature, she quickly signs and pushes the clipboard back to the clerk.

“Thank you.” Quickly reaching out, Cassandra seizes the bag, but Henderson’s grip holds. Her eyes flare as her composure falters.

She is so close to getting it back, but still a long way from being out of danger. Henderson stares at her with hard eyes. Slowly, Cassandra forces herself to let go of the pouch.

“You aren’t taking this out of the building, are you?”

“No. Just…downstairs.”

“I’ll walk you to the elevator.”

Henderson steps out into the hall and heads for the lift. Cassandra scowls before following him. They pass through the rabble of police officials and enter the elevator. An officer tries to join them, but Henderson puts up a hand to stay him. “Wait for the next one.”

When the doors close and the box moves, Henderson looked to ‘Grey’ and notices her staring at the bag in his hand. The look in her eyes is intense, even a little wild.

Cassandra doesn’t notice the agent reach for the emergency button until the lift shudders to a stop. She looks up from the Stone just in time for Henderson to grab her by the throat and roughly slam her against the wall.

The bag drops to the floor as Henderson pulls his firearm from his waist holster and presses it to her temple. Stunned, Cassandra stares, wide-eyed, at the powerful agent pinning her to side of the elevator.

“First things first; if you think you can use your magic before I can paint the inside of this elevator with your brain, then you just try it.”

Cassandra considers it for a moment but doesn’t like her odds. The jig is up. “What gave me away?”

“Agent Grey wears reading glasses, reads every document she signs every time, top to bottom, is left-handed, and has never thanked me for a damn thing.”

“That’s an impressive attention to detail.”

“I’m damn good at my job. Now drop the illusion.”

Cassandra allowed her glamour to fade. Dark hair gave way to copper and dark skin gave way to white.

Henderson can’t keep the surprise from his face. “Who the hell are you?”

Cassandra offers no answer. As Henderson glances down at the nameplate of her stolen uniform, she allows her magic to reach out to the Stone lying harmlessly on the floor behind him.

The shimmering glow flares in intensity. She can feel the rock feeding her powers as she taps into the store she stole from the summoner and Warwick’s animal. Without moving a muscle, she carefully begins to seep the forces into the oblivious agent.

“I take it Officer E. Brinkman is dead?”

“It wouldn’t be a ridiculous assumption,” she answers without remorse.

“Cop killer, huh? Well, then there’s a lot of people here who are gonna be thrilled to see you. Let’s go.”

Cassandra offers a slight smirk. “I don’t think so.”

Before Henderson can respond, he notices the barrel of his gun twitching. He tries to assure his grip on the weapon, but his hand feels numb and trembles uncontrollably. His entire body suddenly feels heavy and rigid. A nasty sneer forms on his face, but no words emerge.

Cassandra stares back at him, cocking her head to the side. “I have to admit. You had me worried at first. But it seems someone already started on you. It made my job considerably easier.”

Couch, Henderson thinks. Congrats, old man. I killed you. Now you’ve killed me.

Despite his thoughts, he isn’t going down without a fight. He struggles against the growing control. He enjoys the sudden flare in the wizard’s eyes as his grip on her neck tightens.

Cassandra’s hands grasp his wrist as he glares at her, orbs burning with silent, but defiant rage. After a brief panic, Cassandra steels herself and increases the pressure on the agent’s body.

They glower at each other, clashing in an intense battle of wills. The Stone lifts off the floor of the elevator. A blue shimmer appears in Cassandra’s eyes. The same hue flashes in Henderson’s pupils.

Finally, Cassandra rips the hand from her throat.

The Stone drops back to the floor. Rubbing her neck, she casts a sidelong glance at the gun. “Point that elsewhere.”

Henderson draws the weapon away with unnatural rigidity, like a robot with bad hinges. Dropping to her knees, Cassandra snatches up the plastic evidence bag and rips it open like a child on Christmas. Clutching the Stone with both hands, she presses it against her face and nearly weeps.

The wizard’s attention elsewhere, Henderson summons every ounce of willpower he possesses and forces his arm to raise. His 9mm points directly at the back of her head for several seconds before he can force his finger to put any pressure on the trigger. Before he can squeeze off a round, Cassandra spina to her feet and swats the weapon out of his hand.

Anger in her face slowly transforms into a smile. “You are an impressive fellow,” she admits, looking him over. “Far too impressive to simply toss away.”

Gripping the Stone, she places a hand on the side of the agent’s furious face. The artifact pulses, discharging rings of blue energy. Her magic delves into Henderson’s mind.

Most wizards know suggestion is far more effective than outright control. It’s a matter of using magical persuasion to convince a pawn that following them is the best way to achieve their goals or is even the right thing to do.

Flashes of the agent’s memories appear in her head. Soon, she has a solid grasp on who Paul Henderson is and what he wants. Calling upon more of the Stone’s power to support her own, a blue sheen returns to her eyes.

“Your superiors have lost their nerve. They only care about elections and political nonsense. Grey went along with it because she is just a puppet. Why else would she try to keep you down? They don’t want you rattling their cages.”

The anger in Henderson’s face slowly fades. He stared at her as though she is relaying the direct word of God. “She knew what Nelson Couch was capable of. She set you up to fail. She wanted to embarrass you. To give herself a reason to keep you in your place instead of allowing you to take your rightful position.”

“I…I don’t care about positions. I just…I…”

“I know, Paul. You just want to do your duty. You want to protect your country, but they won’t let you. These so-called leaders, they thrive on chaos and fear. You would be far too effective, and they can’t allow that. Help me. We will destroy the likes of Eleanor Warwick and Evelyn Grey. We will protect this country.”

Removing her hand, Cassandra allows her energies to recede. It’s the moment of truth. Henderson stares at her before bending down and retrieving his weapon. Cassandra tenses until he slides the gun into its holster and deactivates the alarm. The lift moves again, and the agent adjusts his tie as he stands facing the doors.

He says nothing. Cassandra requires nothing. She only smiles, slipping the Stone into her pocket, and stands beside him as the elevator takes them down.

A sedan shoots out of the parking garage at a dangerous speed. Tires squeals as the vehicle cuts through traffic, its dashboard lights flashing.

“I need your phone.”

Without taking his eyes off the road, Henderson reaches into his pocket and fishes out the device. Cassandra takes it and enters the desired number.

“Joseph. It’s time. I’m heading your way. No more delays.”

Ending the call, Cassandra tosses the phone out the window. Closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths, she tries to calm her admittedly jittering nerves.

“What’s our next step?” Henderson asks.

Cassandra pauses a moment before answering. “The last one, Paul. The last one.”