The People v. Eleanor Warwick

According to The Manual of Conjured Beings, a copy of which resides in House Warwick’s library, avatars are not summoned so much as they are engineered. Properly schooled wizards can use magic to coalesce the lingering psychic impression of intense emotional states. Wrath, in this case.

They don’t last long, but they can be extremely dangerous. The more intense the emotion, the more powerful the avatar. You can imagine the frightful entity the thundering rage of a hellblood will produce

Down in the proving ground, Jessie frantically dodges repeated swipes of the avatar’s claws. She backpedals as gracefully as she can manage. The edge of the arena is getting closer.

Sidestepping a downward arch, Jessie strikes her enemy hard in the ribs. The avatar groans but does not relent. It throws a few more wild slashes the hellblood is barely able to avoid.

A slight stumble is all the avatar needs. Searing pain racks Jessie’s shoulder. Long claws sink into her flesh, setting her nerves ablaze.

The avatar seeks to follow up by stabbing its second set of razors into her side, but Jessie seizes its wrist, halting the assault. Gritting her teeth, she grabs the avatar’s dug-in claws and forces them out of her body. A painful growl escapes her as black blood runs down her chest.

A burst of fear and adrenaline powers her as the hellblood slams her fist into the creature’s chest. She brings her own, smaller claws across its face and then drives her elbow into its throat. Stunned, the avatar takes several steps backward. Jessie attempts to press her advantage, but the avatar cuts her off.

Lunging forward, the avatar seizes its much smaller adversary and drives her backward. The enchanted fence-line awaits. Desperate to avoid the agonizing magic, Jessie plunges her thumbnails into the creature’s pitch black eyes. Blood and bile squirt onto her hands as the orbs burst like juicy grapes.

She drops to the ground as the avatar howls in shock and pain. The blind monster swings its claws about clumsily. Clutching her wounded shoulder, Jessie comes to a knee to catch her breath. Her foe staggers dangerously close to the fence. Better still, it’s near a point where two sections of the barricade are bolted together. She sees her opportunity to end the sick exhibition and escape in the process. She’s not going to let it pass.

Setting her feet, the hellblood charges forward with every ounce of strength remaining in her legs. The avatar hears her approach. It turns its empty sockets toward her. In a vein attempt to defend itself, the creature throws both sets of claws forward. Jessie ducks under both without breaking stride and drives her good shoulder into the avatar’s gut.

Hit with the force of a runaway SUV, the creature leaves its feet and Jessie slams it into the fence. Jessie is merciless as the avatar screeches in horrific pain. She continues to push the creature into the structure with all her might. Metal groans and bolts pop as the arena begins to give way.

Beck doesn’t like where this is heading. He’s certainly glad Jessie is in control. If the avatar killed her, he would have nothing to show for his efforts. Still, he very much prefers her to stay in her cage. Glancing to the wizards and other Shadow Siders watching the action, he quickly realizes no help will come from them. Most watch with amused smiles on their faces.

“Bastards,” he mutters.

Jessie feels the avatar’s body come to a halt. Pushing harder gets her nowhere. It appears she’s plied the fence as much as it’s going to go. It’s time to be more aggressive.

Grabbing one of the avatar’s hands, she slips the claws between the links in the wire walls. After doing the same with the other hand, she backs away from the creature.

Putting her shoulder down like a linebacker, the hellblood races toward the fence and slams herself against the creature as hard as she can.

The wall bursts apart and Jessie’s momentum carries them into one of the tall floodlights beyond. They strike the base so hard, the entire apparatus topples over. The lights at the top of the pole hit the wall of the facility. Glass shatters and sparks fly. Old insulation bursts into flames and begins to spread quickly.

Beck tries not to panic. Jessie rises from the body of her downed foe and unleashes a frightening, victorious roar. He panics.

He tries to move the cherry-picker’s nest but fumbles with the controls. The basket shutters back and forth at his contradictory commands, but ultimately goes nowhere.

Jessie turns to Beck’s prospective buyers, prepared to tear them apart if they want a fight. Fortunately, they are content to sink back into the shadows. Either she’s proven she’s not to be trifled with or they don’t care whether Colby Beck lives to see another day. She doesn’t care which.

Turning her attention to the smuggler, she growls menacingly as she stares into his fearful visage. She approaches slowly as he struggles to control his hydraulic perch. Giving up on an escape, Beck attempts to take back control of the situation.

“Jessie!” he shouts, holding out his small crystal. “Don’t forget about Warwick!”

He allows himself to smirk at her sudden hesitation. “That’s right. You put on quite a show. Hell, you even chased off my customers. But they’ll be back. Now let’s settle down and get you back in your cage before I accidentally break Warwick’s whole world.”

Jessie sneers. She doesn’t owe Warwick anything. Warwick owes her, in fact. Warwick will never make up for binding her, but there’s still a little voice in the back of Jessie’s head telling her she will hate herself if she lets Warwick die. Beck’s smug grin returns as she allows the darkness to vanish from her eyes.

“Good girl. Why don’t you make yourself useful and put out that-.” Trying to manipulate the controls with one hand, Beck tries to bring the nest down, but the hydraulics respond more suddenly than he expects. Jerking to the side, the smuggler loses his hold on the crystal.

Jessie hears a girlish squeak but can’t look away from the crystal as it plummets to the concrete. She just stares as the stone shatters like glass.

That’s it. Warwick is gone. She’s free. Then why does she feel so angry? What is the stinging feeling in her chest? Why does she want to climb up the cherry-picker and rip Beck’s head off even more now than she did just seconds earlier?

“Oh, fuck! No!” She ignores Beck’s curse as she marches over to the industrial vehicle upon which he’s perched. Gripping the cherry-picker with both hands, she pulls upward with all her demonic might. Beck hugs the side of the basket as though it will do him any good. “Wait! Wait! We can work something out!”

Again, she ignores him. Jessie grits her teeth and growls as she struggles to topple the vehicle. Every muscle in her body screams at her, desperately trying to convince her this is more than even her strength can manage. She ignores them too. An animal roar echoes through the burning arena as she calls upon every last ounce of power she possesses, and she forces the cherry-picker over.

The vehicle takes most of the remaining fence down as it rolls into it. The ground rushes toward Beck as his basket falls. He hits the pavement and something pops. He grabs his arm and profanes loudly. The smuggler whips his head around in a panic, trying to find Jessie before she finds him. Smoke fills the facility as the blaze continues to spread. He coughs as he comes to his feet and tries to figure out which way the exit is.

Before he gets far, a powerful grip seizes him by the back of his collar and slams him face first into one of the remaining arena walls. The vile enchantment assaulting him, he cries out in overwhelming pain. After a few horrible seconds, the grip yanks him back by the hair.

“Where the fuck is the Stone?” Jessie shouts in his ear.

All Beck has to offer is an incoherent stream of painful outbursts. Tears well in his eyes and he twitches slightly. Growling, Jessie presses his face back into the fence. After a few screams, she pulls him back again. “The Stone, Beck? Who has it?”

“I-I-I s-sold it!”

“To who?”

“Char...Charlie W-Wells!”

“Where can I find Charlie fucking Wells?”

“You can’t!”

“Oh, no?” She slams his face back into the fence. Beck limbs flail wildly and his screams of agony almost hurt Jessie’s ears. When she pulls him away, he’s sobbing uncontrollably. “How much you want to bet, shithead?”

“No! I m-m-mean he’s d-dead! Somebody killed him and t-took the St-Stone!”

“Well, then I guess you’re fucked!”

Before she can press his head back against the wall of agony, he pleads for mercy. “Wait! I can find it! I-I can find the Stone!”

Jessie stops him just before he touches but doesn’t pull him back. “How?”

“I had it enchanted! Linked it to a GPS! I can track it anywhere!”

The hellblood allows herself a sardonic chuckle. “Let me guess; so you could steal it back and sell it again, right?”

“Yes! Okay? Yes! The GPS is in my office back at the shop!” Beck tries to stop his blubbering but fails. “Please! Please don’t kill me! I’ll give you anything you want!”

Jessie pulls him back to her. “You were dead the second you shot me in the face! But then you had to put me in a cage! Then you had to try and auction me off like a fucking baseball card!” She hesitates. When she speaks again, her voice is softer. “And then you killed Warwick.”

She drives his face back into the fence. As Beck wails, Jessie thinks he might be trying to say something. She isn’t sure what and she doesn’t care. The enchantment does its grim business as she holds him against it until his limbs fall to his side and his crying ceases. Releasing her grip, the body crumbles to the ground.

The hellblood stares down at the corpse with morbid satisfaction. She would enjoy the sight longer if not for the large piece of flaming metal coming crashing down just a few feet away.

Glancing around, Jessie quickly realizes how oblivious she’s been to the threat of the spreading fire. It surrounds her now. Smoke invades her lungs and the heat has become oppressive. No avenue of escape immediately presents itself, but after everything she’s been through today, there’s no way a damn fire will put her down.

Eleanor can see the fire before turning into the small lot beside Beck’s storage facility.

The Hornet comes to a screeching halt and its driver quickly exits. The blaze complicates things. It means the authorities will be there soon. She has to find Jessie and get away from there in a hurry. Much to her surprise, before she can take two steps toward the warehouse, the front door flies off its hinges.

Flames reach out for the plentiful oxygen outside as Jessie staggers out of the facility. Coughing violently, she drops to her knees not far from the entrance. Her dark hair covers her face as Eleanor rushes to her.

“Jessie?”

The hellblood slowly lifts her head and brushes the hair from in front of her face. There’s something in her big, hazel eyes that Eleanor isn’t expecting. Jessie looks at her as though she’s the last person in the entire world she expected to see. There’s confusion, surprise, relief and, dare Eleanor think, a certain happiness in her gaze.

“What happened? Where’s Beck?”

Jessie just continues to stare.

“Jessie?” Eleanor asks. She gently places a hand on her arm. “Are you alright?”

Suddenly, Jessie swipes her hand away. “No thanks to you!” Coming to her feet, Jessie storms toward the Hornet.

Eleanor smiles mirthlessly and shakes her head. “I got here as soon as I could.”

Jessie spins to face her, still moving backward toward the car. “I wouldn’t have even been in that fuckin’ situation if it weren’t for your dumb-ass idea! Now get in the car! We have to go back to the pawn shop!”

Standing, Eleanor walks to her vehicle. “Any particular reason?”

“Do you want your fuckin’ Stone?” Jessie asks from the passenger seat.

“Yes.”

“Then there’s your goddamn reason!”

Without another word, Eleanor slides into the driver’s seat and peels out of the lot and back toward Four Aces.

Jessie looks away from her. Staring out the window, she allows her overwhelming relief to wash over her face. Beck’s bluff was a ballsy one, but she fell for it and that’s all that matters. Her relief that Warwick is alright is only matched by her aggravation at herself for her childishly stubborn refusal to acknowledge it in front of her.

One of these days, you’re going accept that you don’t hate her anymore, she tells herself.

It’s true enough, but she’s already been through too much for one night as it is.

For now, she just wants to go home.