The Dark Side of Eleanor Warwick

Matthew flicks a quarter into the air. He catches it and flicks it again. The process repeats.

Adrian snatches the coin out of mid-air. “Stop it,” he snaps.

Matthew watches his brother resume his furious march, back and forth across the loft. He knows Adrian’s problem. He’s upset about being left behind. Lacing his fingers behind his head, Matthew tilts back in his chair.

“I should be there,” Adrian says.

Matthew sighs.

“There’s no telling what they’re walking into.” He stalks over to the window and looks over Carmadie. “There’s nothing but animals in this city.”

With a slight smile, Matthew shakes his head. The need to feel indispensable. The loathing for everyone who isn’t like him. Typical Adrian.

Adrian turns to him. “I swear to God I can actually hear you judging me.”

Matthew only shakes his head.

“Yeah. I bet. You know one of these days I’m going to be the head of this House. This mime shit’s not going to fly with me.”

The brothers stare at each other for a moment. Matthew slowly reaches into his pocket.

“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”

He pulls out a quarter.

“Don’t flip that coin.”

He flips the coin.

Adrian stares furiously, but a slight smirk begins to edge his lips. He snorts mirthfully. “You asshole.”

Matthew smiles. His expression quickly changes as he sees something beyond his brother. Adrian spins just in time to catch movement before the wall explodes inward.

Dust and debris fill the loft. Matthew falls off his chair. Adrian topples, holding a hand in front of his face. As the smoke clears, he beholds a cocoon of brilliant white feathers.

“Adrian Blackwell!” a booming voice shouts.

Angelic wings sweep open, spreading to a massive span. Penelope Morneau is revealed within. Glittering glints of golden light drift around her. Shiny white latex clings to her form, leaving only her head and arms bare. White boots give her an extra few inches to make her appear as though she towered over her fallen foe. Her ivory appearance is offset by dark makeup circling her eyes and coating her lips and the menacing black whip in her hands. She holds the long leather up and pulls it taut before her. Her expression is one of righteous fury.

“Your executioner is here!”

Henry quibbled with her choice of battle attire and her plan of attack. But she knows the power of theater. Surely no one had come at the Blackwells in such a bombastic manner before. Such an unexpected entrance would provoke a slight hesitation, thus allowing her to make the most of the element of surprise.

Adrian looks up at her, bewildered. He slowly lowers his hand. “Who the…Morneau?”

His momentary inaction vindicates her strategy. With a growl, she lashes out with the whip. Guided by her magic, the leather cord whips around Adrian’s neck. Tucking her wings in, Penelope leaps backward out of the opening.

The whip jerks Adrian’s neck, dragging him over the edge. Penelope’s wings spread again, slowing her descent. She snaps the whip downward. Adrian crashes to the concrete with bone-rattling force.

Penelope lands gracefully, her wings fluttering. She’s surprised to find Adrian already trying to stand. She yanks the whip, sending him tumbling awkwardly back down to the ground. Seeking to press her advantage, she marches toward him. She motions her hand and opens it. A burning red ax appears in her palm.

Up above, Matthew steps to the edge of the opening. Seeing his brother in distress, he cracks his knuckles and prepares to act.

“Just a moment there, young man.”

Matthew spins.

Henry gingerly makes his way through the debris, occasionally brushing some dust off his expensive suit. Once he reaches the edge, he peeks over. “Well,” he says, “that’s a drop, isn’t it?”

Matthew stares at him.

“Are you familiar with the concept of a second? In the context of a duel?”

Matthew nods.

“Well, I was hoping you might be up for that kind of arrangement. We can act as their seconds. What do you say?”

Matthew looks down to the street. He looks back to Henry. He offers a shrug.

“Wonderful.”

Matthew points down at Adrian, followed by an exaggerated flexing of his muscles.

“So I hear.”

After pointing both hands at Adrian and Penelope respectively, he dusts his hand as if just finishing something. He points at Henry and then out the door. Referring back to Adrian, he runs his finger over his throat and points to Henry.

“But you won’t?”

Matthew shakes his head dismissively before turning back to the fight below.

Henry narrows his eyes. “Good to know.”

Releasing the whip, Penelope grips the weapon with both hands. She cries in fury as she lifts the ax and brings it down with all her might.

The ax meets Adrian’s hand and comes to an immediate halt.

Adrian grips the bladed edge. The ax does not penetrate his skin. Penelope stares in bewilderment as he rises to his full height, glaring down at her. Suddenly, the tall, powerful angel of death feels an inch high.

Adrian yanks the ax away and kicks Penelope squarely in the torso. Penelope leaves her feet and tumbles across the pavement. Her beautiful wings come apart, feathers drifting into the air before fading out of existence. Groaning, she looks up as Adrian throws the whip to the ground.

“How did you think this was going to work, Morneau? We would throw spells and counterspells at each other and maybe you would get lucky?” He slips off his blazer. “You have absolutely no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Coming to her feet, Penelope conjures a fireball in her hand and hurls it. The spell strikes Adrian full in the face. He barely even flinches. Growling in frustration, Penelope slowly backs away.

“You can’t imagine what I have endured. What I’ve put my body through.” He yanks open his dress shirt, prompting a gasp from Penelope.

Intricate symbols and runes were carved into his chest, leaving clean scars behind. Penelope can feel the sigils seething with power. As Adrian finishes baring his torso, she stares in shock at a series of burn marks along his left arm.

A scar clearly medical in nature runs along his side. She knows there are rituals that involve sacrificing parts of your body. A trio of brands were burned into his skin along his right bicep.

“I bet you geared up with a protection spell or two before you came here. Well, I don’t need them. You’re looking at dozens of layers of armor, thick as fucking tank. No getting lucky. No chance.”

Snarling, Penelope holds her arms out to the sides. She chants a few words. Mystic powers swirl, creating a ring of violet light beneath Adrian. Moving her hands in front of her, Penelope makes a few practiced gestures and then holds them in place.

Violet energy shoots up from the circle and crackles along Adrian’s body. He goes stiff, floating off the ground. Keeping her hands as still as she can, Penelope jerks her upper body to the side, slamming Adrian’s rigid body into the wall of the building.

Adrian grunts, but his body remains firmly held. Penelope twitches back in the opposite direction. The motion whips Adrian across to the building next door. He thuds against the brick. Groaning with effort, Penelope keeps her hands in place and flings Adrian back to the first wall. He hits with enormous force but remains locked in place.

Finally, Penelope drops her arms. She looks down as she shakes feeling back into her hands. When she looks up, Adrian is directly in front of her. Before she can back away, he grabs her by the throat. With little effort, he lifts her off the ground.

He glares at her in clear disgust. “Why are you so weak?”

Her eyes flare but she can offer no answer.

“Why is everyone so weak?”

Watching, Henry shifts anxiously. He looks to Matthew. The young Blackwell isn’t paying him much mind. Sliding a hand to his leg, he flexes his fingers, producing a burning sigil. He glances at Matthew again. He still seems oblivious.

Quickly, he finishes the spell and a long spear of golden light appears, hovering off his fingers. He hurls the spear down toward Adrian.

Before the weapon can reach its target, it freezes in midair. It immediately begins to break up, drifting apart like embers from a fire.

Adrian turns his head towards the disintegrating spear. Penelope takes advantage. When he turns back to her, he finds her palm in his face. Penelope manages a single word. Ice and arctic winds blast Adrian in the face. The intense cold steals his breath and coats his skin in a thin layer of ice. Stumbling back, Adrian drops her.

Henry slowly looks at Matthew. Matthew casually holds a hand out toward the missile, dispelling it with complete ease. He turns his head to look at Henry. An angry scowl would have been preferable. Henry finds the disinterested stare Matthew offers rather offensive.

“Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Henry suddenly claps his hands together in front of him, creating a blinding flash of light. Caught off guard, Matthew staggers backward, holding a hand out in front of him. Swiping his hand to the side, Henry sends a wave of telekinetic force that knocks Matthew over the side. Thinking quickly, Matthew conjures a whirlwind. The upward gust slows his fall and allows him to land safely.

Penelope spins, her arms outstretched. Ghostly green wisps materialize off the ends of her fingers. She makes one, two, three rotations, each one making the emerald mass more solid. As Adrian slaps the ice from his face, she brings the conjured cudgel around in a wide arch. The blow strikes Adrian with enough force to not only take him off his feet but throw him backward at jarring speed. A metallic crunch echoes through the alley as he slams into the side of a nearby SUV.

Penelope ends her spinning with a slight stagger. All her spellcasting is taking its toll. She can’t stop now, though. Especially considering she locks eyes with the other Blackwell.

She quickly summons a burst of kinetic energy and flings it. Matthew bats it away easily and returns fire with a motion of his hand, producing a golden dagger that flies toward her. On pure reflex, she jerks her head to the side. The blade slices her cheek, producing a loud curse.

Matthew steps forward and holds up a hand. A set of identical daggers spread in his hand like playing cards. Before he can throw them, a tiger pounces on him from above. He covers his head as the animal bats and claws at him.

Gritting his teeth, Matthew slaps both hands down on the ground. A burst of force throws the tiger off him. The tiger hits the wall and drops to the concrete. The animal twists and contorts before returning to human form. Henry staggers, shaking his head and slapping his cheek.

“God, I hate doing that!”

Penelope places her hands together in front of her and rotates her wrists. Pushing her palms forward, one behind the other, she conjures a stream of fire. Matthew raises a hand and a translucent shield prevents the flame from reaching him. Before he can launch a counterattack, Henry casts the same spell. Raising his other hand, Matthew keeps him at bay as well.

Penelope and Henry keep the pressure on. They move closer, a fiery inferno building around Matthew. He keeps the fire back easily enough, but the heat is another matter. Sweat runs down his face. The boiling temperature begins to sap his strength.

Henry smirks as he sees a concerned look replace Matthews's dismissive detachment. His enjoyment does not last long. A firm hand grabs the back of his jacket and yanks him back with enough force to give him whiplash. He’s dropped hard onto his back.

Adrian moves on quickly. He dashes toward Penelope so fast she barely sees him coming. He plants a hard shoulder into her. With a yelp of surprised pain, she’s tossed into the air and crashes down hard onto the pavement. Penelope cries out and clutches at her hip.

Turning, Adrian returns his attention to Henry. Henry looks at him and then turns to Matthew stepping through the fire. He backs away until he bumps into the wall. Putting his hands up, he tries to get a hold of the situation.

“Gentlemen, surely we can come to some sort- .”

Matthew strikes with startling speed. He drives a golden dagger through Henry’s palm and pins his hand against the brick.

Henry cries out in alarmed pain. He clutches his wrist, twitching as blood runs down onto his sleeve. “Goddamn it!”

“I don’t know who you are,” says Adrian, “but you’re a dead man.”

Struggling to sit up, Penelope begins to cast a healing spell on her hip. She sees the Blackwells looming over Henry.

“No,” she growls, halting her spell. “No one else.”

Groaning in pain, she struggles to her feet. “Blackwell!” she screams.

Adrian and Matthew look at her.

Penelope reaches out, turning her fingers down. Glaring with hatred, she speaks the words of a spell. She moves her arms in horizontal circles. For a moment nothing happens. Then, winds begin to swirl around the area. Cracks spread along the concrete.

Sneering, Adrian stalks toward her. He only gets a few steps before the winds grow stronger. The Blackwells are swept off their feet, caught up in the whirlpool. Chunks of concrete are ripped up and join them in the swirl. Henry grabs a hold of the knife, bracing himself against the spell.

Penelope changes her motions. The debris and dirt begin to form into a large sphere, trapping the Blackwells within. The dagger holding Henry’s hand in place dissolves. He clutches his injury as he runs to take cover behind Penelope.

Penelope shouts a phrase over and over. Each time, her eyes flash with light. At the same time, light blinks from within the sphere like lightning in a cloud.

“Be careful, Penelope.”

Ignoring him, she continues to chant the phrase. Her hands tremble as the power of the spell grows.

“Penelope, that’s enough!”

She crosses her wrists. The alleyway goes quiet for a moment. Then, she jerks her arms apart.

With a blinding light and a furious crack of sound, the sphere explodes. The concussive force blows her hair about. Nearby windows shatter. Pieces of concrete fly into the air. Dirt and dust hang thick.

“Dear God,” Henry says.

Penelope falls to her hands and knees. Her breaths are long and ragged.

“Are you out of your mind? You could have destroyed these buildings! There are people in there!”

“I don’t care. He had to die.”

Before they could say more, the faint sound of footsteps is heard. Penelope lifts her head. “No,” says weakly.

Henry narrows his eyes, peering into the dust.

A figure takes shape within.

Penelope stares in heartbroken bewilderment. “No. No. No!”

Adrian steps out of the cloud. His pants are tattered, but his body is unmarked.

Tears run down Penelope’s face. Her lip trembles. Her voice wobbles. “That’s impossible.”

Pausing, Adrian flexes his jaw. He spits blood onto the cracked pavement. “I’ve told you already, Morneau.” He cracks his knuckles and walks toward them. “I am invincible.”

Henry glances past him. “Is he?”

Adrian turns. Matthew lies face down. “Matthew?” He moves to his brother’s side.

Grabbing Penelope’s arm, Henry pulls her up to her feet. “This is our chance. We have to withdraw.”

She yanks her arm away. “No! He has to die!”

Adrian turns Matthew over. “Matthew?” Blood colors his shirt. “Matthew!”

“He’s distracted!” Penelope growls. “Now’s the time!”

“Now’s the time to get out of here while we’re still in one piece!”

“No!” Penelope charges toward Adrian in a rage. She only makes it a few steps a dark mist swirls around her head. Her eyes roll back and she falls forward.

Henry is there to catch her. He looks down at her, sleeping heavily in his arms. Groaning against the aches in his aging body, he lifts her up. He looks to the Blackwells.

Adrian clumsily casts healing spells on his wounded brother, paying them no mind.

Turning away, Henry carries Penelope into the shadows and disappears.