The Dark Side of Eleanor Warwick

Henry stands before the door of House Warwick.

This was 12 days in a row now. The door opened for him every time so far. He knew somewhere in the pit of his stomach that one day he would approach the door and it would either be locked or the House within empty.

These 12 days had been difficult. He tries to remember how many times in her life he had gone 12 days without seeing her or at least hearing from her. Nothing comes to mind. He was not a man normally bereft of companionship. Yet, these 12 days had been terribly lonely.

Eleanor's departure was just another blow that Penelope could ill afford. She had withdrawn and was not easy to reach. There was always a coldness to her. A kind of intellectual detachment. This was different, however.

Henry would never pretend to understand the relationship she had with her submissives, but there was something broken inside her now. As he suspected, vengeance against their killer was not enough to repair the damage. He hoped with all he could muster she would pull out of it and return to her former self. He missed her.

He would not go so far as to say he missed Jessie but given the circumstances he would at least like to know she was alright. Jessie was furious when he emerged from the building without Eleanor. She stormed in despite his assurance Eleanor was gone.

While he would regret it, Henry waited for her to get back from her pointless search. Jessie screamed and profaned, as she is want to do. Henry absorbed all her hatred. She hung around for a few days, perhaps not believing Eleanor was truly gone. Then she took the Hornet and left.

Henry could track the car with a spell but had decided against it. Maybe she would return eventually. Maybe not. If Eleanor made it back first, she could easily retrieve her car.

He shook his head. Thoughts like that were a waste of time. Maybe one day Eleanor would return, but he wasn't convinced. The odds were fairly good he would never see either of them again. Nor Penelope, for that matter.

So what now for Henry Willard? For now, he would continue to check this red door along Riverside Drive. Reaching out with a hand he wishes was not trembling, he takes the doorknob and slowly turns.

He exhales when the passage opens. She's alive. Somewhere out there. Pulling the door closed once more, he adjusts his fedora and walks away. He prefers not to linger. Too many memories. Besides, he has somewhere to be.

The crowd is not very big, but he supposes Marvin didn't have very many friends. Under the shade of a large tree, they gathered to pay their last respects.

His father is there in his brilliant white dress naval uniform. He stands stoically, but there are bags under his eyes. Mrs. Towles is beside herself, opening weeping. A few distant relations attend as did some of Marvin's current and former bandmates. One or two sketchy individuals linger about. Henry supposes they are Marvin's PI colleagues.

A minister performs his duties. It's a handsome tombstone, featuring his full name, Marvin Patrick Towles. The minister offered to let people speak, but no one wanted to. Before departing, Henry offers his condolences. He describes himself as a friend. It feels like a lie.

As Henry walks away from the grave, he spots it. A coffee-colored AMC Hornet is parked across the street. A young woman with dark hair sits on the hood. Leaving the cemetery, he crosses the avenue and approaches the vehicle.

She either doesn't see him or doesn't care. She looks across into the cemetery. Sunlight reflects off her aviator sunglasses. A lite cigarette rests between her fingers.

"Jessie," he says cordially.

She doesn't spare him a look. "What?"

"Nothing. Just saying hello. You should have joined us."

"That would be great. Oh, how did I know the deceased? Funny story, I'm his fucking murderer."

"I suppose telling you it wasn't your fault would be a waste of time."

"Yeah. So skip it."

He nods. "It might have done the family some good to know someone cared about him. Perhaps even- ."

"Don't fucking say it." She takes a drag from her cigarette.

Henry stands awkwardly for a moment. He feels like he should have some things to say to her, but nothing comes to mind.

"He said he loved me," Jessie says suddenly, a catch in her voice.

He perks up. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Right...before." She takes another puff but now the cigarette is twitching in her hand. "The last time I saw him, the real me, I mean, I broke his guitar."

"Couples fight."

"He never should have been anywhere near me. I'm toxic. In so many ways."

"You could make the case that he never would have been involved in any of this if I hadn't brought him into it. Although the responsibility ultimately lies with the Blackwells."

She finally turns and looks at him. "Does that make you feel any better?"

"No," he says softly.

"Right. So imagine being the one holding the knife."

He nods. The two dwell in uncomfortable silence for what feels like hours. Henry casually checks his phone. Jessie takes a few more drags from her cigarette.

"Why did she leave, Willard?" she asks, finally breaking the silence. "We could have helped her if she stayed."

"I don't think we could have. The Dark Force made her incredibly dangerous. She did the right thing by getting as far away from here as possible."

"I still think we should have faced it together. Now wherever she is she's all alone. Facing that thing inside her. What's it going to do to her? If she can't get it under control."

"Well, the stories go that the Dark Force eventually...kills its host."

Jessie growls and flicks her cigarette away. "I never should have left." She jumps off the hood and gets nose-to-nose with Henry. "I never should have let you talk me into leaving, you stupid son on a- !"

"Enough!" Henry puts his hand up to silence her. "You have had your chance to curse me out and I took it all on the chin, but no more. Enough."

Jessie glares at him with furious eyes. He holds his ground, staring back into her hazel gaze. Jessie sighs and back away. "Fine."

She tousles her hair as she walks away. When her black locks are lifted, Henry spots a tattoo behind her ear.

E. W.

"Jessie, I know this is difficult. It's like a death and yet you don't get to mourn."

Jessie glances at him but looks away again.

"We all have to accept the fact that she is gone. We will likely never see her again. What we have to do is decide what we're going to do now."

Crossing her arms, Jessie leans against the car. "Nice sentiment, Willard, but I'm way ahead of you."

Henry raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Before she can respond, her phone chimes in her pocket. She checks the ID and answers.

"Yeah?" "Are they still there?" "How many?" "No. Don't go anywhere near it." She looks at Henry. "We're on our way."

Hanging up, she pockets her phone.

"I don't...what's happening? Who's we?"

Jessie goes around to the trunk and pops it open. "Warwick may be gone, but Carmadie still needs someone looking out for people. Like she did."

She lifts the Black Blade from the trunk, now fitted with a new sheath and shoulder strap. "And that's us."

"Us?"

"Yeah. You and me for now. Maybe others if we can recruit them."

"Jessie, wait a minute. I don't think- ."

"Listen, Willard. If you want to think she's dead, think it. I don't give a fuck. But until I know otherwise, Eleanor is alive and she's coming back. I am not going to stand by and let this place go to shit without her."

Henry stares. "You called her Eleanor."

"What? No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I- oh who the fuck cares!" She tosses the sword in the backseat. "Either get in the car or fuck off!"

Henry looks around as she enters and slams the door. It's a pipe dream, he figures. Eleanor returning. Yet, there's certainly no harm in continuing her work. Just in case. Swinging open the door he climbs inside.

With a roar of the engine, the Hornet peels away from the curb and onto the streets of Carmadie.