The People v. Eleanor Warwick

The sound of smashing wood and tile draws Grey’s attention.

She spins toward the sound, Henderson’s gun at the ready. Her search for Crane was fruitless. She hopes the noise is the lead she needs. Moving slowly through the hall, the appearance of a group of ghostly entities brings her to an immediate halt.

The figures are pure white with featureless shapes. They are short and seem to be horsing around with one another. Grey stares with wide eyes until the figures appear to notice her as well. Confused, she adjusts her grip on her weapon and cautiously backs away. One of the specters flees, but the rest approach her curiously.

As she retreats, another group appears beside her. Swinging her weapon back and forth between the ghostly gatherings, she backs into the wall. The figures surround her. Grey glances around. A pair of doors sit across the hallway, partially obscured by bizarre translucent ripples that drift in the air.

After a deep breath, Grey charges the specters. A few stumbles backward, one trips and falls over, and one stands its ground only to have the agent pass right through it.

Grey meets the door with a lowered shoulder, knocking it open. She comes to a jerking stop once inside a large library. Pale specters fill the room. Now, they even seem startled by each other, as well as Grey.

Before too much attention can fall on her, Grey spots an opening in the bookcase. Without considering what might be beyond, she rushes into the passage.

A few ghostly figures follow her but stop at the entrance to the dark corridor. Grey watches as the figures gather, seemingly conversing with each other. As if they’re trying to figure out where she went.

As the group turns its attention elsewhere, Grey catches her breath and turns her attention down the tunnel. The passage is dark and uninviting, but if one wanted to hide a torrent of magical energy, they couldn’t hope for much better than a spooky downward spiral.

Steeling herself, she slowly begins her descent into the unknown.

Pale waves of light dance about as Cassandra’s shoulders slump.

The burden she carried with her for more than a hundred years is lifted from her. A feeling dwells in her chest that she has nearly forgotten.

It’s happiness. Joy. Something that has been locked away for decades. Joseph and Grace always made her feel better, but never anything approaching happiness.

Now her labors are complete. The ritual will right the wrongs of so long ago. Ghostly figures form around her, but she ignores them. She knows what they are.

The past and present are merging. Time is being twisted and turned upside down. The figures are ephemeral visions of those that walked there before. They, in their time, can likely see her as well. Cassandra doesn’t care. They can gawk all they want.

Closing her eyes, she relaxes. The dizziness in her head gets worse, but she resists the urge to allow the darkness to take her. Dark rings form around her eyes as their brown color dulls. Her skin pales and her lips clam.

This will not be another blackout. Her time is nearly over. But the ritual’s work is not complete. She must protect it. Breathing calmly and deeply as she gathers her magic, preparing for Warwick’s monster to attempt another attack.

“Sandy?”

A wispy voice brings her eyes open wide. Her dulling orbs water. “Harold?” Staggering to her feet, Cassandra glances around at the various figures around her.

“Sandy?”

Her lip quivers as she desperately seeks the source of the voice. “Harold!”

One of the spectral figures moves toward her. Its features are more defined than the others. “Sandy.”

Cassandra stares as tears roll down her cheeks. Her voice cracks. “Harold.”

“What have you done, Sandy?”

She blinks in surprise at the disapproving tone. “I…I fixed things. We’re going to be together again. All of us. You. Me. The children.”

“You can’t do this. It’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t care!” she shrieks, her voice wobbling. “It’s worth the risk! Any risk!”

“Sandy. Please. You are not yourself. Stop this.”

She can’t believe what she’s hearing. She clutches the sides of her head and shakes in disbelief. “No. No, I can’t. I won’t. I will restore our House. I will take our lives back. You have no idea what I’ve done to get this far. You won’t dissuade me, Harold.”

The figure shook its head. “I’m sorry to hear that,” it says in a familiar, feminine voice.

Cassandra stares, slack-jawed, as the ghostly specter dissipates. An illusion. Eleanor Warwick stands in the figure’s place. She barely has time to gasp before Eleanor shoves her into the spinning torrent.

The cavern echoes with her piercing scream. Arcane energy washes over her like rapids, tearing at her body. She locks eyes with Eleanor as she struggles against the rushing magic.

Eleanor grimaces as she stares back, watching bits and pieces of her disintegrate into the torrent. The rage and hate in Cassandra’s eyes fade into sorrow.

“I just…I just wanted my family back,” she manages to say in a cracking, painful voice. Eleanor stays silent, knowing that nothing she can say will matter. A single tear starts down Cassandra’s face before the torrent sweeps it away, along with a portion of her cheek. “Is that so much to ask?”

Again, Eleanor remains silent. Closing her eyes, Cassandra Crane dashes like a sandcastle hit by the rising tide and disappears within the torrent.

With a sigh, Eleanor can’t help but lament her death. Cassandra tried to kill her, Jessie, and virtually everyone else in the world, but there’s still a feeling of guilt. Cassandra only became what Martin made her. He destroyed her life and created a monster.

A hand suddenly grabs her shoulder. Twisting away from the hand, she stands ready to attack.

“What the fuck is going on, Warwick?”

Eleanor relaxes in relief before turning her attention back to the torrent as Jessie steps up beside her. “The ritual’s started. It’s blurring the line between the past and the present.”

“How do we stop it?”

Eleanor tousles her hair as she considers the situation. Stopping a ritual is not dissimilar to defusing a bomb. They’ll have to proceed carefully. “The Stone.”

“What about it?”

“It’s got to be removed. We have to get it out of the torrent. It will cut the magic from the ritual and stop it. Like taking a battery out of something.”

“I’m on it.” Jessie steps toward the arcane tornado before Eleanor grabs her arm and pulls her back.

“Stop! That thing will tear you apart.”

“Hellblood, remember?”

“Magic, remember? It can kill you as easily as anyone else.”

Jessie brushes her hair out of her face. “Then how do we get it out without dying?”

Looking to the torrent and then back to Jessie, Eleanor faces the inevitable. “We don’t.”

“What do you mean?” Jessie asks with narrowed eyes.

“I mean, whoever goes in there, isn’t coming back out.”

The two stare at each other. White translucent waves continue to pop up around them. Jessie fidgets uncomfortably. “So…what, then?”

“I’m going to get the Stone,” Eleanor answers with no hesitation. “You’re going to get out of here.”

“Oh, fuck that!”

“When I remove that rock, the torrent might destabilize. Lose its containment. If it does, it’s going to unleash a hell of a lot of destruction. You have to go.”

“How come you’re going in? Why not me?”

Shaking her head, Eleanor puts her hands on Jessie’s shoulders. “When I go, the binding will be severed. You’ll be free. Just please, get out of here.”

“Get this through your head, Warwick;” Jessie exclaims, pushing her hands away, “I’m not leaving you here to die!” Her face softened along with her voice. “I…I can’t.”

Staring into her beautiful hazel eyes, her soft skin illuminated by the glowing ripples in the air, Eleanor can see her sincerity. She isn’t going anywhere. Not even the prospect of being free is enough to sway her.

Eleanor could make her, of course. She’s not leaving that cavern. She has to tell Jessie. Consequences be damned.

“Jessie, I- .”

Dirt and rocks dropping onto her head ends her outburst prematurely. They look up. The cracks in the cavern had spread high and gravity is demanding action. The loud sounds of rocks shifting fills the chamber.

“Oh, shit,” Jessie curses.

The downpour of stone and dust is inescapable. Eleanor throws her hands out, shoving the falling rocks away. The act only delays the inevitable.

Jessie is barely able to turn to flee before a large chunk of earth strikes her in the back. Stumbling to the ground, she rolls onto her back just in time to see the cave-in coming before it buries her.

“Jessie!” Eleanor’s moment of distraction allows the debris to strike her in the leg. As she falls, more rocks drop onto her waist and stomach, slamming her down. The back of her head strikes the ground with a dull thud. Eleanor stares up in a daze. Her head swims as she looks around the chamber. Debris covers roughly half the cavern. Jessie is nowhere to be seen. Looking over her own situation, she finds herself buried to the abdomen. Heavy stones pin her left arm to the ground.

Attempts to cast a spell fail. The blow to the back of the head makes concentration impossible. The ritual is still playing with time like it’s Play-Doh.

The pale figures grow in number and definition. Eleanor can barely make out facial features and hear their willowy voices. She could swear one of them is calling her name. It wasn’t until someone kneels beside her that she realizes the voice is very much in the present.

“Warwick!” Grey shouts as she pans her gun around the room. “Where is she?”

“She’s gone,” Eleanor answers, almost absently. “Dead.”

“Good. How do we stop this?”

Eleanor blinks repeatedly as she tries to think clearly. “The Stone. I’ve got to take it out of the torrent.”

“Then get out from under there and do it.”

Gritting her teeth, Eleanor struggles to push the rocks off her. Sweat runs down her face as she finally manages to force the weight from her arm.

Grey holsters her weapon and tries to help, but the debris is too heavy. She takes a step back and slips out of her jacket. A look to the torrent freezes her.

Lines of white energy emerge from the swirling pillar. The tendrils weave through the air like the roots of a tree. Turning back to Warwick, she can see her struggling to summon her spells. There’s a faraway look in her eyes. Her escape is taking too long.

The agent doesn’t understand the ritual taking place, but even she could tell the process is accelerating. She stares at the pale twister and the Stone within.

She has always told herself that her single-minded devotion to her job was for the benefit of her kids. Recent events made her question that, but at this moment, it isn’t her career that’s on her mind.

Maybe Crane’s ritual would be a success, maybe not. She isn’t willing to gamble Troy and Bianca’s lives to serve the wizard’s ambitions.

“Warwick,” she says coolly, without looking at her. “I need you to do something for me.”

Eleanor doesn’t like the tone in her voice. “What are you doing?”

Ignoring the question, Grey steps toward the torrent. “No matter what you may think of me, I love my children.”

“Grey! Stop! That thing will kill you!”

Again, Grey ignores her. “Tell them that. Please. Tell them I’m sorry I wasn’t a better mother.”

Eleanor starts to warn her again, but it’s clear she’s made her mind up. Grey approaches the torrent with her trademark poise intact. Pale lights reflect off her focused eyes.

Desperation driving her focus, Eleanor is finally able to shove the debris off her lower body. Scrambling to her feet, horrible pain shoots through her body, sending her back to the ground. Several broken bones need mending.

Grey looks back to her with no fear in her eyes. “Tell them.”

“Grey. Wait.”

Without another word, the agent steps into the swirling light.

She gritted her teeth as her skin burns. Squinting against the light, she spots the Stone and moves toward it. Stinging pains spread through her body as she begins to dissolve like sugar in water. Strands of her dark hair fizzles like a fuse.

Grey reaches for the artifact. Before she can close her hand around it, the arcane current sweeps her fingers away. Crying out in as much shock as pain, she lunges out with her other arm and seizes the Stone. With a painful grunt, she rips it off its invisible pedestal.

The cavern shakes as a massive burst of white light erupts. Eleanor covers her head with both arms as a pale wave washes over her.

The wave spreads from the academy, erasing the ripples and figures as it goes.

Outside, Marvin ducks as the wave approaches. Henry stands stoically as he watches the light pass over them before fading as it drifts toward the horizon. The wizard narrows his eyes as he reaches for his phone.

“What happened?” Marvin asks.

Ignoring him, Henry looks to find the Hornet still sitting where Eleanor parked it. Looking at his phone, he sees the girl’s name and number, but he needs to hear her voice. Bringing the cell to his ear, he waits.

“You’ve reached the phone of Eleanor Warwick. Leave a message and- .”

Cutting the voicemail message, Henry leans against his car and sighs. There’s still reason to be concerned, Eleanor and Jessie could still be in great danger, but the girl still exists, and at this point, Henry will take it.