The People v. Eleanor Warwick
Well Beyond

Carmadie

Present Day

The bright lights of Archer Square bring a multicolored tint to the windshield of the taxi.

If Mahloof wasn’t whizzing through the area at 60 miles per hour, he may have noticed. Sweat beads on his forehead as he debates pressing down even harder on the gas pedal. His alarmed, wild eyes spend more time on the rear-view mirror than on watching where he’s driving. Assuring himself he lost them doesn’t give the engine a break.

Loud honking brings his attention back to his navigation. He skillfully guides his cab around a city utility truck and in between a Domino’s delivery driver and a rather angry teenager in a Lexus. Taking a deep breath, he tries to collect himself.

The life of a Carmadie cabbie is rough enough. Rude passengers. Long hours. Ride sharing apps. But being chased through the city by a couple of weirdos for something that wasn’t even his fault is a bit too much for him. After a few more frantic checks of the mirror, Mahloof allows himself to relax. They’re gone.

No sooner does he finish the optimistic thought than a familiar vehicle emerges from the line of buildings to his right. He slams on his brakes and spins the wheel as the brown 1976 AMC Hornet passes through the solid structures like a ghost and flies into the street in front of him.

The cab’s tires squeal as it turns sideways. All his fears returning, Mahloof floors the accelerator and whips across two lanes of traffic onto a side street. Powerful engines roar as the Hornet goes into hot pursuit.

“Ha! I fuckin’ told you that would work!” Jessica Blackwell, Jessie to anyone who liked eating solid food, boasts from the passenger seat.

Eleanor Warwick doesn’t spare her a look. “I didn’t say it wouldn’t work. I said it was stupid. Completely reckless.”

“Yeah, well,” Jessie says as she rolls down her window, “you know what they say: careful lives, reckless kills.”

“Who says that?”

“I don’t know. They.”

“Well, they are probably dead.” Taking her eyes off the yellow cab she pursues, Eleanor takes note of Jessie lifting out of her seat. “What are you doing?”

“Just get close to him,” she replies, grasping the roof of the vehicle and pulling herself out through the window.

“Jessie! Get back in the car!” Her associate ignores her and crawls onto the roof of the speeding Hornet.

Raven black hair, striped with the occasional red streak, whips about furiously. Keeping herself low, Jessie grips the edges of the roof with strength a short, slight-framed woman should not possess.

The side street is darker and narrower than the major thoroughfare they departed. Eleanor doesn’t like Mahloof’s odds of losing them here. Jessie’s daredevil nonsense is unnecessary, but since she’s already on the roof, Eleanor applies more pressure to the gas pedal. Her car is a subject of some ridicule, but its performance is above reproach. The gap between the vehicles quickly closes.

Coming up into a crouch, Jessie begins to gauge the distance and, with powerful legs, hurls herself toward the car.

The thud on the top of his cab startles Mahloof. He reflexively jerks the wheel to the side, trying to shake off whatever landed.

Eleanor watches with helpless nerves as Jessie struggles to maintain her tenuous grip on the cab.

Regaining a solid position, Jessie balls up her fist and drives it down into the roof. The thin arm bursts through the thin metal, intensifying Mahloof’s panic. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The cab swerves wildly, knocking over garbage cans and taking out a street sign. Bemoaning the situation only getting worse, Eleanor looks ahead to try and spot a place to run the cab off the road. What she sees instead is most unwelcome.

A dump truck is blocking the street less than a mile down. Glancing into the cab, she notices Mahloof is not watching the road at all. He’s instead swiping at Jessie’s blindly grasping arm.

“What’s that, Jessie?” Eleanor mutters in aggravation. “Solve this problem you just made worse? Why not? No need to change our routine now.”

Gunning the Hornet’s engine to its maximum muscle, Eleanor whips around the cab and pulls along its passenger side. Rolling down her window, she edges as close to the erratically moving vehicle as she dares. Keeping one hand on the wheel, she reaches out and tries to touch the cab. Her fingers are millimeters away when the car suddenly jerks to the side.

The Hornet shutters violently and Eleanor brings both hands back to the wheel to regain control. Frustration mounting and collision imminent, Eleanor steers hard to the left.

The vehicles brush against each other with a metallic whine. Eleanor lunges out and presses her hand against the window of the cab.

Eleanor Warwick focuses the innate power that dwells within her. The power that allows her and others to shape the world around them. With it, they defy the laws of physics, command the elements, and manipulate the human mind. It is a power with many practitioners but no masters. A power called magic. To wizards like Eleanor Warwick, it is a way of life.

Eleanor’s magic flows through her hand on the wheel, into the Hornet and through her other hand on the window and into the cab. Once there, they creep through the vehicle and into its driver and its unconventional passenger.

Mahloof notices the garbage truck once it’s too late to do anything about it. He covers his face with his arms and screams like a child. Jessie looks up a tad too late as well. Her response is more succinct.

“Fuck.”

However, the fiery collision never occurs.

Both vehicles pass harmlessly through the massive truck. Eleanor guides the Hornet away from the careening cab. Mahloof’s hands come down just in time to see the telephone pole before he slams into it. His airbag pops and strikes him hard in the face.

Jessie’s ride comes to a less jarring stop. She leaps off the roof at the last second and tumbles hard across the pavement. When her spill ends, she lays out on the ground, motionless.

After a moment, a full figured, bespectacled woman with a tan shoulder bag stands over her. She looks down without the slightest semblance of concern. “Have fun?” Eleanor asked.

Rolling to her feet, Jessie brushes her hair out of her face. A nasty gash opened in her forehead, but she hardly notices. A thick, black substance oozes out and runs down the side of her face. “All right, fine,” she starts angrily. “Maybe that was kind of dumb.”

“Maybe?”

“Fuck you. I admitted it was dumb. What the hell more do you want?” Jessie wipes the black goo from her face as she approaches the cab.

Eleanor follows close behind. “I want you to think.”

The wizard’s response is a little too scolding for Jessie’s taste. She spins and gives her a hard glare. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking child!”

Returning her attention to the cab, she smashes through the driver’s side window with ease. Eleanor stays on her. “Well, the temper tantrums don’t help establish a difference.”

“There wouldn’t be any tantrums if you didn’t piss me off so much!” Opening the door from the inside, Jessie rips out the airbag as easily as pulling a tissue out of a box.

“You’re right. I should avoid doing or saying anything that would make you mad. Which was, at last check, everything.”

Mahloof is next as Jessie drags him out and tosses him to the ground. The cabbie tries to scamper to his feet, but a size five shoe presses down on his chest. Jessie looks back to the wizard. “Fuck you!”

Mahloof struggles momentarily, but the young woman’s foot won’t budge. “What do you want from me?” he shouts, trying not to let fear creep into his voice. He fails.

“Don’t play dumb, Mahloof,” Eleanor answers, shelving her bickering with Jessie for later. “You know why we’re here. You are still in violation of the Warwick-Thornton Treaty. You have to let me try and cure you.”

“And if you can’t, you’ll kill me!”

Eleanor starts to deny the claim, but gives up, shaking her head. “That’s not...necessarily going to happen.”

Beginning to panic, Mahloof struggles feverishly to move Jessie’s foot. “I’ve been told I can’t trust you people!”

“Yeah?” Jessie pushes down a little harder. “We’ve been told the same about you people.”

“Jessie, that’s racist.”

“What about what he said?”

“He wasn’t talking about our race.” Eleanor looks down to the cabbie. “You weren’t, were you?”

“No! Wizards!”

“That’s what I thought,” Eleanor says with a nod. “Come on, Jessie. Let him up.”

“Screw that! Let’s just throw his ass in the car!”

“Let him up!”

Mahloof glances back and forth between his captors as they stare at each other.

Eleanor’s order was sharper than she planned, but she holds her ground, puffing her chest out. Eventually, Jessie relents.

Shaking her head, she takes her foot off Mahloof’s chest. As he pulls himself to his feet, Jessie walks away and pulls a cigarette from her pocket.

“If you were planning on being chummy with the guy, why the hell am I even here?” she asks rhetorically as she lights up.

“Because you’re such wonderful company.” Eleanor’s answer is dripping with sarcasm. A raised middle finger is Jessie’s answer.

The wizard bristles at the gesture, but decides to return focus to the job. “Anyway, Mahloof, we both know you’re a danger to everyone around you. I’m the best shot you have at returning to normal.”

“Or ending up dead,” the cabbie responds with a scowl.

“I know this is a bad situation for you, but I can’t allow innocent people to be killed so you can keep living. It may sound callous, but that’s just...just...”

Eleanor’s sentence trails off as she notices Mahloof’s teeth slowly sharpen. His breathing grows heavy and his nose twitches. Turning to look into the sky, Eleanor watches the clouds drift out from in front of the full moon.

“Bummer.”

Slowly turning back to Mahloof confirms the situation has become a lot more dangerous.

The cabbie hunches over, convulsing as dark hairs spread across his skin. Bones crack and flesh contorts as his fingers, arms, and legs grow longer. He groans in pain as his face rearranges into a canine snout. His muscles tighten and he rises up to stand nearly a foot taller than he was previous.

“Jessie?” The wizard backs away as the cabbie becomes a canine monster. “You’re up.”

Taking a long, casual drag off her smoke, Jessie comes off the Hornet and tosses it away. “So I can do shit?”

“Oh, do you need permission to assault people now? Is that a new thing? I like it.”

Scoffing, Jessie walks nonchalantly toward Mahloof. By the time she stands before him, the transformation is complete. The cabbie gave way to a werewolf. The beast howls loudly before staring at the young woman with hunger in his eyes. He crouches down on powerful hind legs, preparing to strike at any moment.

Jessie stares back with a look that approaches disinterest. She calmly pops her knuckles before dropping her arms to her sides. Flexing her fingers, she allows her blood to pump its special properties through her body.

As her heartbeat quickens, her already unnatural physical prowess becomes borderline super-human. Pitch-blackness consumes her eyes and her nails grow hard and sharp.

Dark powers boil inside her until they burst out in the form of a monstrous roar. The fierce cry echoes through the streets and puts the werewolf back on its heels, unsure as to what exactly he’s facing.

Demon’s blood flows through the veins of Jessie Blackwell. The product of a torturous ritual, the black ichor turns a normal human woman into a supernatural weapon of mass destruction. Half human. Half demon. Greater than both. The indomitable predator of the Shadow Side: a hellblood.

Barking in fury, the werewolf leaps forward only to be met by a shoulder check to the sternum that tosses him back. Jessie presses her advantage and pounces on the creature, growling with animal menace and lashing out with her deadly, claw-like nails.

Eleanor grimaces as the blood begins flying. This isn’t going to end well for Mahloof. Jessie is stronger, faster, tougher, and certainly meaner. She won’t kill him, but she’ll break a few bones.

Eleanor is actually happy to hear her cell phone ring. She doesn’t take any pleasure in watching the hellblood work someone over. It can get messy.

“I have to take this,” she says, pulling the phone from her pocket. Jessie doesn’t hear her over the sounds of the beating. “I said I have to- oh, what am I doing?” Turning away from the scrum, she lifts the device to her ear.

“Henry. I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

“This won’t take long, girl,” the smooth, cultured voice on the other end answers. “This funeral you’re putting on tomorrow, what time is it?”

Stepping away from the violence, Eleanor places a finger to her ear to block out the sound of Jessie repeatedly slamming Mahloof’s head against the trunk of his cab. “Oh. You’re coming?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Seriously?”

“All right. I know exactly why I shouldn’t, but I’m going to.”

Eleanor hesitates a moment. “Yeah, okay. It’s at one. Rosemont.”

“Very well. I will see you there.”

The sudden sound of shattering glass followed by a painful howl makes Eleanor flinch. She doesn’t want to look. “Okay.”

“All right then. How are things with the- ?”

“Jessie!” Eleanor shouts as she turns back to the fighting. “No curb stomping! I’m serious!”

“Am I keeping you from something, girl?”

“What? Sorry, Henry. There’s just- ,” She shouts at Jessie again, “Hey! What did I just say?”

“Why don’t we just talk tomorrow?”

“Henry, I’ve got to go before she kills this guy! I’ll talk to you tomorrow!”

“That’s what I just- .”

Eleanor ends the call and quickly slides the phone back into her pocket before hustling over to the brawl. “Jessie! No! The tire iron is overkill!”

Charlie Wells paces back and forth impatiently.

He clutches his briefcase against his chest as if the contents are worth millions of dollars. To be fair, that’s only because the contents are worth millions of dollars.

Two men in sunglasses stand stoically nearby. On the Shadow Side, sunglasses in the middle of the night are a dead giveaway that you’re a demon. The eyes of a demon are pitch black and a sure fire way to let everyone know that you aren’t human. So the powerful foot soldiers wear the shades to hide their true nature.

Charlie checks his watch again. She’s ten minutes late. To most people, that would probably be acceptable, but Wells is tirelessly punctual and expects others to be the same. Not to mention the precious cargo he possesses. Demons or no, he feels incredibly exposed standing in a dark parking lot.

“Mr. Wells.”

The sudden appearance of his customer gives him a violent start. His demons both clench their fists and advance on the woman who managed to get the drop on them. She stands, poised, as the enforcers circle her.

Sharp brown eyes watch them closely. Her copper hair moves gently in the wind and she laces her fingers in front of her long green coat.

“Where the devil did you come from?” Charlie asks, clearly flustered.

A slight shrug accompanies her answer. “I don’t see how my travel arrangements are relevant. Do you have it?”

“Of course I do. You, on the other hand, are surprisingly unburdened.”

“I want to see it first.”

“That wasn’t the arrangement.”

The woman smirks. “Mr. Wells. You are a wizard of some ability. You have two angry demons flanking me that look like they’d love to rip me in half.” One of the demons growls in agreement. “What is it you think is going to happen?”

Wells looks her over before nodding. “All right. Just long enough to confirm the contents.”

“Inspect the contents.”

Gripping the case tighter, Wells narrows his eyes. If the woman is up to something, she’s doing an excellent job of hiding it. “Fine.”

Holding the case at arm’s length, Wells opens it up. Stepping closer, a faint blue light illuminates her face. As she places her hands on the side of the case, both demons move toward her only for their master to wave them off.

With the three of them looking at each other, no one notices the small black spider that crawls out from the woman’s sleeve and onto the case.

“These are extremely rare nowadays,” Wells explains. “May I ask what you plan to do with it?”

The woman doesn’t offer an immediate answer. She stares at the object. She had been striving to acquire it for so very long. It is the key. “I will avenge my House.”

“Excuse me?” Wells asks with narrowed eyes.

“House Crane,” she answers without taking her eyes off the object.

“Never heard of it.”

“No. I suppose you wouldn’t have. A member of my House once said the House that betrayed us would burn. I intend to go well beyond that.”

The look in the woman’s eyes is a tad off. It makes Wells nervous. Pulling the case back to him, closing it as he does, he raises an eyebrow. “Everything was satisfactory, I assume?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Wells fails to hide his surprise. “What?”

“I have decided not to purchase this item from you.”

“I thought you needed it to avenge your House, or whatever.”

“Oh, I do, Mr. Wells,” she says in a tone edged with menace. “I just won’t be purchasing it.”

A sudden sting causes Wells to slap the side of his neck. Before he can even give voice to his irritation, the world around him begins to melt away. His eyes roll back and he collapses into a heap.

The woman pays his body no mind. She only plucks the case from his dying grasp. Turning back to the demons, neither moves on her.

Like all demons, they don’t work for Wells by choice. Wizards can bind demons to their will, forcing them to serve as slaves. With their master dead, they’re free. For the time being, at least. The duo is uncertain as to whether attacking the woman is a good idea.

“The way I see it, you have two choices:” she begins, slowly looking back and forth between them, “Fight me. Maybe you win. Maybe you lose. Or take your freedom and go.”

It’s really a no-brainer for the demons. They give each other a quick glance before both turn and walk away into the night.

Opening the case again, she stares at the powerful Tempus Stone. It’s not one-of-a-kind, but it might as well be. Rumors are there are less than 20 in the entire world. The gray, egg-shaped rock is marked with a circle with a diagonal line through it. Arcane energy shines a soft blue from the mark.

As she’s lost in the cobalt light, a massive figure rises up behind her. She closes the case and turns to stare into the large eyes of a giant arachnid.

“They know I have the Stone, Grace,” she says in a loving voice. She rubs the top of the spider’s head. “Kill them both.”

Grace leaps into action. All eight legs pump as the massive creature pursues her prey. As roars of terror rip through the silence of the night, Cassandra Crane tucks the case under her arm and disappears into the darkness.

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