The People v. Eleanor Warwick

“A pawn shop?”

Eleanor pops some quarters into a parking meter before turning back to Jessie. “Yeah?”

The hellblood looks over the brick and glass building in front of her. A piano, a safe, and mannequin wearing a wedding dress sit on display behind a large window. A neon sign featuring a quartet of cards with the name ‘Four Aces Pawn’ hangs dormant in the light of day.

“This player works at a fuckin’ pawn shop?”

“It’s a front, Jessie. We’re you expecting a smuggling shop or something? He also won’t be wearing a button that says ask me about my illegal activities. I hope that doesn’t throw you off.”

“Check your attitude, bitch. You’re not the one having to whore yourself out.”

“You’re exaggerating. Look, all you have to do is smile, be nice, and feign interest. Normal people do it all the time.”

“Good for them,” she answers with a scoff.

“Just don’t push it too hard. He’s not an idiot.”

“What are you, my pimp? Let’s just get this shit over with!”

Shrugging off that unpleasant image, Eleanor opens the door to the Four Aces Pawn and enters as casually as possible. The shop is well stocked and much neater and cleaner than most of its kind. Its shelves display everything from engagement rings to high-end stereo equipment to washing machines. As Eleanor glances around the shop, her eyes come across Colby Beck right in her face.

Startled, she jumps back. She quickly realizes, much to her embarrassment, it’s actually a cardboard cutout of Beck, not the man himself. The life-size stand-in features the owner clutching bills in each hand and smiling. Beck’s is not the kind of smile one can trust. It’s the kind that made a decent person want to bathe.

“Welcome to Four Aces!” Startled again, Eleanor turns away from the doppelganger and to the genuine article, slimy smile included. “What can- Eleanor Warwick!”

Colby Beck points at her with both hands as if Eleanor doesn’t know where her own body is. Dressed in an off-the-rack beige suit and Bluetooth headsets in both ears, the little man is likely a comical sight for those unaware of his true nature. Fortunately, Eleanor is well aware. Colby Beck is sly, conniving, and cutthroat.

“How are you?” Beck asks with well-faked sincerity. “Come to see the one guy who can turn you straight?”

“Chris Evans is here?”

Beck laughs. “If he was I’d sell him a washing machine.” The smuggler turns his attention to Jessie. “So who do we have here?”

Again, Eleanor is not afforded the opportunity to respond. Jessie extends her hand, palm down, and offers a pleasant grin. “Jessie Black. I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Beck.”

Eleanor can’t help but smile with her. The way she always does. Jessie has such a beautiful smile. It brightens her entire face, turning an already attractive visage into a downright stunning one. It’s just too bad she didn’t do it very often.

“Please,” Beck insists as he takes her palm, “lovely ladies call me C.B.”

Jessie cocks an eyebrow as he kisses the back of her hand. When he looks up, her faced returns to its forced congeniality. “C.B. it is.”

“Great. Now, what can I do for you two?”

Finally getting a chance to speak, Eleanor quickly seizes it. “I’m looking for an artifact.”

“I see.” Beck looks around his shop to make sure they’re alone as he takes his place behind the glass counter. “Eleanor Warwick is on the hunt again, eh? Well, you know my services come at a price.”

“Of course.” Before going on, Eleanor gives Jessie a quick glance.

“Is it hot in here to you guys?” Jessie asks, seemingly out of the blue.

Beck shrugs. “Not really, but I’d be happy to turn down- .”

Jessie drops her black hoodie off her shoulders, revealing the sheer spaghetti strapped tank top underneath.

“or you just take your jacket off. That’ll certainly work too.”

“Anyway,” with Beck’s attention on Jessie, Eleanor presses, “I’m really just wanting to know about an object already brought in.”

“Uh huh.” the smuggler answers absently. “That is some very nice ink.”

Looking over her left shoulder, Jessie futilely tries to get a look at the tattoo on her left shoulder blade. “Oh, thanks. It’s new.”

Beck stares at an approximation of a rip in her skin. Monstrous claws emerge from the darkness beyond, and a pair of red eyes glare out. “Do those hurt more? I mean, it’s right on a bone.”

“Oh, yeah. It was a bitch,” Jessie gives him a flirtatious look, “but I don’t mind a little pain.”

The smuggler nods with a smirk. “I bet you don’t.”

“It was a stone,” Eleanor adds, hoping to get some of Beck’s attention, but not too much.

“Stone, right. What else have you got?”

“Well,” Jessie turns her right shoulder to him. “Over here was my first one. It’s a skull with a rose in its teeth. And then on the left wrist I just have some flames.”

“Very nice. I’ve thought about getting some ink, but, you know, needles.”

“A Tempus Stone, to be exact.”

Mention of the artifact draws all of Beck’s focus. “What?”

Acting quickly, Jessie leans over the glass case. “So, a Bluetooth for each ear.” Looking back to her, Beck immediately notices he can easily see down her shirt. “You must be really important.”

Glancing to Eleanor and then back to Jessie, Beck smiles at the young woman. “Well, I don’t like to brag, but yeah. I’m big time.”

“You’d have to be. The only other explanation is that you’re an enormous tool.” Eleanor clears her throat loudly. Jessie quickly moves to correct her momentary fit of sarcasm. “But I’m sure it’s the first one.”

“Oh, it is.”

“So, Beck; Tempus Stone?”

“Come on, Warwick. Those things are rare. Want one and it’s gonna take a while. And cost a lot.”

“There’s already one in Carmadie. I just need to know if you’re the one who brought it here and who has it now.”

“What?” Beck plucks both headsets from his ears. “Are you seriously asking me for client information?”

“Hey, C.B. Chill out,” Jessie says, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Miss Black.” The smuggler holds a hand out to stay her. “Look. You are really hot. If you’d like to hook up for drinks, I’d be happy to take a run at you, but it’s time for business. Why don’t you go do your nails or something?”

Grunting softly, Eleanor shakes her head.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Jessie stares at him like a lioness eye-balling a gazelle.

“I said- .”

“I heard what you said!” The hellblood snatches Beck’s hand. Just as Eleanor thinks she’s going to break it, she gently places her other hand on top. “And I cannot believe it.”

“Huh?” Beck and Eleanor say in unison.

Jessie stares at him. “You’re scared.”

“What?” the smuggler responds with a scoff. “Bitch, please. I am not scared.”

“You’re scared that if you tell Warwick what she wants to know, there’ll be consequences. But you are Colby motherfucking Beck. What are these clients gonna do? Go to someone else? Let them. They’ll come crawling back.”

Eleanor watches silently as Beck seems to be sucked into Jessie’s large, hazel eyes. “Yeah. I’m Colby motherfuckin’ Beck! They don’t like what I’m doin’ they can fuck off!”

“Damn right!”

“Yeah! You’re damn right I smuggled a Tempus Stone in! Who the fuck else could have?”

“Nobody, baby!”

Eleanor raises an eyebrow as Jessie starts to rub Beck’s hand. She’s better at this than Eleanor expected her to be.

“That’s right!” Beck ducks down behind the counter. He places a small antique chest in front of Eleanor then quickly reclaims Jessie’s hands, much to her well-disguised irritation. Eleanor just looks at the box. “What’s this?”

Groaning in the annoyance of having to talk to her instead of Jessie, Beck looks back to the wizard. “Jesus. Do I have to do everything?”

“Yeah, Warwick. What the fuck’s your problem?” Jessie chimes in, taking the opportunity to lash out at Eleanor while still maintaining her cover.

“It’s my client information. Look up whatever you want.”

Eleanor shakes her head at both of them and flips open the chest. A blinding light shoots out, prompting her to shield her face and stagger backward.

She trips on something and drops onto her back. She’s surprised to feel wetness beneath her. Suddenly there are loud sounds of traffic and a faint horn blowing.

“Jessie? Jessie, what’s happening?” she asks as she scrambles to her feet.

As her vision begins to normalize, Eleanor cocks her head to the side as she stares over the Lampton River. The foghorn sounds again from one of the many boats traveling along the busy waterway. The Parkman Bridge crosses overhead and the smell of the river is quite real.

“This isn’t good.”

The bright lights surprise Jessie, causing her to jump back from the counter.

By the time the light fades, Eleanor is gone. The chest remains on the glass. “Warwick?”

Before she could act further, Beck raises a small handgun from behind the counter. Jessie sees it for only a split second. Beck pulls the trigger.

Jessie’s head whips back. Black blood splatters onto the cardboard cutout of Colby Beck. The hellblood’s body falls to the floor like a rag doll.

The smuggler casually sits the gun on the glass countertop. He walks calmly around to the entrance, locks the door, and turns the sign to CLOSED.

Stepping back over to Jessie’s body, he crouches and brushes a few strands of her raven hair away from the fresh bullet wound in her forehead. A pool a thick, black blood forms under her head. Beck stares down with smug satisfaction.

“I can’t believe she brought you right to me,” he says softly. “You are going to make me a lot of money, Jessica Blackwell.”