The People v. Eleanor Warwick

Simple wood screws are no match for the physical might on an angry hellblood.

The door to Cassandra’s apartment flies off its hinges, careening into the empty living room. Jessie charges in, eyes dark and nostrils flaring.

Eleanor follows, scanning the room. She detects no presence. Not with her eyes, nor her magic. “She’s not here.”

“Well, work your voodoo. Find her.”

“I don’t need voodoo. I know where she’s going. Let’s move.” Stepping back into the hallway, the duo ignores residents checking on the noise and return to the elevator. When the box reaches the lobby, they step out to find Evelyn Grey approaching.

Grey whips out her sidearm and Jessie growls angrily. Hoping to avoid bloodshed, Grey’s blood in all likelihood, Eleanor puts her hands up. “Whoa, whoa, ladies. Let’s all just relax here, okay?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jessie demands. “Following us?”

“I didn’t need to. You’ve been under constant surveillance for weeks,” Grey answers. “We ambushed you as you left here, remember?”

“Oh, you did not want to bring that up!”

Ignoring the hellblood, Grey continues. “This is where you found the Stone. It was logical you would come here when it came up missing.”

“I told you we’d handle this,” Eleanor reminds her.

“And you thought I’d just accept that?”

“I guess I shouldn’t have. So, what happens now?”

Staring at the menacing hellblood, Grey slowly lowers her handgun. “We find the Stone. Fast.”

“There’s no fuckin’ we!”

“Jessie.”

Before Eleanor can take her traditional role as peacemaker, Jessie spins on her. “This is bullshit, Warwick! We can’t trust this bitch!”

“I don’t require your trust,” Grey admits, “but we want the same thing.”

“Like hell we do! You want us in prison!”

“Even if I was still with the agency, they just want the Stone now. And if you want to be rid of them, you’d better see that they get it.”

“Okay! Both of you stop!” Eleanor interjects. “Grey, don’t just pop up and expect us to play nice after you hounded us.” The agent looks away, conceding the point. “Jessie, Cassandra is unstable, unpredictable, and likely expecting us. Having some extra backup wouldn’t hurt.”

“We turn our backs on her, we’re gonna get a bullet in it! And we’ll deserve it for being so fucking stupid!”

Placing a hand on each shoulder, Eleanor looks her in the eye. “Trust me, okay?”

The hellblood’s anger slowly fades. With a heavy sigh, she shoots Grey a hard look before walking toward the door. “Fine.”

“Good. Everyone’s happy. Let’s go,” Eleanor says as she exits the building and steps out into the street.

Grey follows. “Go where?”

“Upstate,” Eleanor answers without a look.

“Care to be more specific?”

“Aww. What’s the matter, super spy?” Jessie taunts as she pops a cigarette into her mouth. “Something you don’t know?”

Not bothering to respond to the snide question, she stays focused on Eleanor. “What’s upstate? And who is this Cassandra person?”

Holding up a silencing finger, Eleanor brings her phone to her ear. “Henry. She’s already gone. Right. We’re on our way.” Dropping her phone into his pocket, Eleanor rounds the Hornet. “Henry will meet us there.”

“What about Penelope or that old guy, what’s-his-face?” Jessie asks.

“Couch. We can’t wait for them.”

“Warwick” Eleanor halts and looks to Grey. “About Couch.”

Narrowing her eyes, Eleanor steps back around the car. “What about him?”

The look in Grey’s eyes tells her she isn’t going to like what she has to say. “He’s dead.”

Staring blankly for a moment, Eleanor shakes her head. “Dead? What are you talking about?”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen.” There’s a slight note of regret in the agent’s voice. Not one of emotional remorse, but of professional failure. “He attempted to flee our custody and one of my agents took unauthorized lethal action.”

“‘Unauthorized lethal action’?” Eleanor repeats slowly. “What was he even doing in your custody?”

“We picked him up to let you know we were serious.”

Eleanor stares before turning away and clutching at her curly locks. “Well, I didn’t even know about it,” she says through gritted teeth. “So, I guess he died for nothing.”

Grey sighs as Eleanor leans on her car, palms on the hood. Couch’s death was already regrettable, but now knowing that his entire purpose for even being there was for naught, makes the entire situation a complete disaster.

“What the fuck do you people want?” Anger rises in Eleanor’s voice.

Jessie raises an eyebrow at Warwick’s uncharacteristic swear.

Coming off the car, she storms toward Grey, stopping inches from her face. “You come marching in here, threatening people, killing people like a bunch of jack-booted fascists! Couch hadn’t done a damn thing to anyone! He was a laundromat operator, for Christ’s sake! But you just- !”

Eleanor grabs Grey’s arm and quickly feels a metal jab in her ribs. Looking down at the Glock pressed into her side, she brings her eyes back up to Grey’s hard expression.

Jessie snarls as she throws her smoke to the concrete and steps toward them, but a glance from Eleanor stays her. Removing her hand, she takes a few steps back from the agent.

Holstering her weapon, Grey moves forward, returning them to nose-to-nose proximity. “What we want is to take a stand. You know the kinds of things wizards do to people like me. Regular people. Ungifted, as you call them.” Grey’s voice is cold but edged with righteous fury. “Your kind think we’re ants, and they can pull out the magnifying glass whenever they want. Now I don’t expect you to understand what it’s like to have to do unpleasant, ugly things for the greater good,”

Eleanor’s face softens. She thinks of Mahloof. She would have killed him if she had to. It’s unfortunate, but it must be done. For the greater good. She wonders whether that would have provided the cabbie’s family or friends with any solace.

“but we’ll do what we have to in order to stop the rampant victimization of innocent Americans. You know, there were analysts with the agency who thought you were the wrong person to target. That you were someone who would help us. That you were one of the good ones. I guess they were wrong. Whether you want to abuse us or save us, it seems your kind are only happy when we’re helpless victims. God forbid we should fight back.”

Eleanor stares forward as Grey flings open the passenger-side door of the Hornet. “Now, if we’re both off our soapboxes, we have a job to do.” Sliding into the seat, she slams the door behind her.

“Warwick?” Jessie steps toward her.

Blinking, Eleanor looks to her. “Let’s just go.”

“She’s in my seat.”

“Just get in the back, please.”

With a roll of her eyes, the hellblood climbs into the Hornet’s tight backseat.

Taking a deep breath, Eleanor tries to focus. She has a crazy wizard to stop. She can mourn Nelson Couch later.

Taking the driver’s seat, he puts the Hornet in gear and takes off down the street.