The Dark Side of Eleanor Warwick

Jacob Ethridge paces across the terminal.

For the dozenth time, he practices what he’s going to say. He still hates it, but he can’t think of anything better. He needs something respectful, but not too sycophantic.

People flood in and out of Kelsey International Airport. Roman watches him pace with a hard expression, or as he calls it; his face. He rotates his neck, uncomfortable in his suit’s tight collar. Formal wear has never been his friend. “Why the hell do I have to dress like this?” he growls.

“We’re trying to look classy. Quit your bitching.” Roman glares, his nostrils flaring. Ethridge halts his pacing, raising a finger to stay his grumpy ally. “That was tough love.” The massive wizard placated, Ethridge tries to peer through the throng of travelers. “Are you sure they were landing tonight?”

“That’s what my guy said.”

“Well, I don’t see them,” Ethridge whines. He turns to Roman and frowns. “You’re sure? I don’t want to hang around here all night and then find…out…”

Roman staring past him causes Ethridge’s sentence to trail off. Taking a deep breath, he steels himself and turns to face a sight that chills him. The oppressive crowds part in a most peculiar fashion, as if some unseen force herds them. A party of new arrivals paces unimpeded toward them.

One is tall, handsome, and carries himself like a conquering Caesar. His hair is cut too short to get a good idea as to its hue. Unaffected by the winter weather, he wears no coat over his suit. His collar is open, proudly revealing a glimpse of a well-defined chest. Sharp eyes scan the area like a viper waiting for an excuse to strike.

Adrian Blackwell, the heir apparent. A physical powerhouse who devoted numerous spells and rituals to pushing his body to superhuman levels of capability. Stories are told of his arrogance and furious temper. Ethridge will have to be sure to avoid both.

The only woman is a stunning vision with delicate features and pitch-black hair. She is dark and hauntingly beautiful. Her eyes burn with fierce intellect and dangerous power. Long legs carry her in a confident stride, the tail of her overcoat fluttering behind her.

Madeline Blackwell, the lioness of her House. A highly intelligent woman with a talent for magic too complex for most. Spells of the mind are her specialty. Her deft touch is a stark contrast to her older brother.

Bringing up the rear, a young man watches everything around him, not with a harsh glare, but with calm observation. He is the only one that isn’t particularly threatening. He walks with his hands in his pockets. More color is splashed across his attire than those of the others. A light blue shirt and purple tie join his dark suit. Chuck Taylor basketball shoes peek out from the bottom of his slacks. His hair, the family black, is shaggy and unkempt.

Matthew Blackwell, a more dedicated poet and painter than wizard. Not that he is without power and skill. Rumors persist that he is every bit the dangerous a wizard as his siblings. He just isn’t as quick to show it, happy to slip into the background. He’s an odd one, to be sure. He’s chosen to remain silent for years. No one is quite sure why.

That brings Ethridge to the front of the pack. The man is well into his middle age. Mid-50s, if he were to guess. A meticulously groomed beard hides most of a weary, but experienced face. His hair is a different shade than his offspring, more dark brown than black. Despite his age, not a single speck of gray is visible. Inscrutable brown eyes stare ahead, unflinching. He walks with a cane but doesn’t seem to require it. The metallic tip strikes the floor with a clack, Ethridge’s eyebrow twitching with each one.

Clack…clack…clack.

A blood-red tie offsets his black suit and shirt. He’s shorter than Ethridge expected. He is hardly the first to be surprised in such a way.

Clack…clack…clack.

The hairs on the back of Ethridge’s neck stand as the sound grows closer. Sweat beads on his forehead. Many on the Shadow Side have reputations that precede them, but none stretches so far and strikes so deep.

Clack…clack…clack.

Alexander Blackwell, considered by most to be the most powerful wizard in the United States. Some would argue the world. The wise fear him, respect him, and then fear him again.

Ethridge nudges his friend and clears his throat. Roman breaks his gaze and grumbles. Swallowing his pride, he holds up a sign that reads, BLACKWELL. For a moment, they wonder if the family will walk right past them. Even as they come close, neither man speaks to them. Just before the quartet passes, the father comes to a halt. His brood follows suit. Alexander turns his gaze to the pair of strangers.

Ethridge’s heart races as their eyes meet. There is no fire or steel in Alexander’s eyes. They are placid, disinterested by him. Roman’s eyes prefer Madeline. He runs his gaze from her black heels, up her stockings, across her expensive skirt suit, lingering at her chest, and then finally meeting her eyes. He almost flinches to find her staring back.

Ethridge notices Roman’s small movement. He grits his teeth but returns his attention to the patriarch. “Mr. Blackwell. Welcome to Carmadie.” He extends his hand. “My name is Jacob Ethridge.”

He exhales in relief when Alexander’s bearded face curls into a friendly smile. He accepts the offered hand with a firm shake. “A pleasure, Mr. Ethridge. What can I do for you?”

“My friend and I were hoping we could give you a ride,” he answers, gesturing through the glass doors, outside of which a stretch limo waits.

Alexander’s eyes never leave his. “We already have a car waiting for us.” Ethridge nods, his shoulders slumping slightly. “However, I would hate for your efforts to go to waste. My children have some business to attend to, but I’m famished. Could your limousine take me somewhere I could get a good steak?”

“Absolutely!” Ethridge exclaims like an excited child.

“Excellent.” Turning to his family, Alexander issues quiet orders. Ethridge tries to smile in the face of a hard glare from Adrian but decides to look away instead. The siblings depart as Alexander turns back to his would-be hosts. “Shall we?”

“Yes, sir.” Ethridge leads the way out of the terminal and into the limo outside. Roman and Ethridge sit together, the latter slightly wedged against the door by the former’s bulk. Across the cab, Alexander stares out the window. He rolls his cane between his fingers as he watches familiar buildings pass by.

“So,” Ethridge begins awkwardly, “when was the last time you were in town?”

“About 15 years ago, I believe,” he answers, without looking.

“What brought you?”

Alexander doesn’t answer right away. The fidgeting of his cane ceases. A soft snort escapes him as he thinks back to a warm summer night in Carmadie. Back to an encounter that ended poorly. For the other person.

“There was someone I needed to see,” he finally responds.

Ethridge only nods as the car goes quiet again. He’s a chatterer. Always had been. Silence makes him uncomfortable. He shifts in his tight space and eyes Roman.

The big fellow stares at their guest with unmasked suspicion. Sensing the gaze, Roman looks over at his friend. As soon as their eyes meet, he knows what’s about to happen. He sighs and prepares to be thrown under the bus, and not for the first time.

Ethridge clears his throat. “Mr. Blackwell, I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize for my friend here.” Alexander faces them, his eyes calmly panning back and forth between them. “Ogling your daughter right in front of you is just so disrespectful.”

Alexander makes no immediate reaction. He calmly picks a piece of lent from his sleeve. “Do you have any daughters, Mr. Ethridge?”

“No, sir.”

“If you ever do, I hope, for your sake, they’re ugly. Hideous, in fact.” Ethridge furrows his brow in confusion. “My daughter is a beautiful young woman.”

“Stunning!” Ethridge agrees.

Alexander ignores him. “She was blessed with her late mother’s looks. They all were, really. Lucky devils. Beauty draws attention. I certainly paid a great deal of attention to my future wife when I was a young man.” He turns his gaze to Roman, focusing it into a hard glare. “And I know what I was thinking when I did.”

Roman doesn’t blink. Their eyes lock until Alexander turns back to Ethridge. Roman doesn’t smirk, but every fiber of his being wants to. He just stared down Alexander Blackwell and made him look away first. That’s a moment that will win him a great many drinks and dalliances when the story is told.

“I’m not always comfortable with the kind of attention, or from whom it comes, but it’s a reality a father must accept. Besides, Madeline is a powerful sorceress. If she found your friend’s admiration offensive, she would have castrated him right then and there.” He looks back to Roman, the edge of his lip curling into a small smirk. “She still might.”

Their eyes lock again, and again Alexander looks away first, staring back out the window. This time, however, Roman does not feel victorious. The thought causes him to swallow hard, a momentary flash of fear that Alexander does not miss.

Roman suddenly wants to watch the buildings pass as well.

The rental agent hops off the luxury car as the Blackwells approach.

He quickly produces a tablet and a set of keys. Madeline ignores him as he thanks them for choosing his service. She taps the touchscreen and sets him on his way. “I’m going to find the workspace we need,” she says, turning to her brothers. “Where are you going to start?”

Matthew holds up the police mug shot of their wayward sister that led them to Carmadie in the first place.

She stares for a moment. “You’re going to show her picture around? Good thing this isn’t a large city.”

“It’s not as foolish as you make it sound,” Adrian corrects with a scoff. “The file says where she was arrested. We go there and then show her picture around.”

“I see.” Madeline opens the driver's side door. “Well, good luck.”

“Wait. Aren’t you giving us a ride?”

Her brows rise. “And deprive you the chance to experience local culture with a nice cab ride?” A mischievous grin spreads across her lovely face. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

Adrian snorts as the car speeds off. A tap on his shoulder turns him to his little brother. Matthew gestures in the direction the limo had gone and shrugs.

“Why did he go with them?” Adrian asks.

Matthew nods.

The eldest frowns. “You need to get your head out of the clouds and pay attention. Dad explained on the flight that we need to keep our business close to the vest. Do you really think the locals are unaware of a hellblood running around?”

Matthew shakes his head.

“These people are savages, but they aren’t stupid. But we’re not asking around about it. If someone found out why we were here, they would try to find her first. Dad doesn’t want anyone sticking their nose in our business. So what do you think he’s going to do to the first people that try?”

Matthew considers for a moment. His face drains of life, and he stares with cold eyes. Taking a single finger, he traces a line across his throat.

Adrian smiles. “Damn right.”