Eleanor Calder Novels & Stories

“Oh, this is delicious. Damon Rice, the man who’s allergic to emotions, might actually be in love. And the best part? His competition is Gavin Black, and my competition is Piper” I groaned. “Don’t start matchmaking wars, Eleanor. The last thing I need is you stirring up another scandal.” “Oh, come on,” she said, pouting. “You had your scandal. Let me have mine. The people deserve entertainment.” “People?” “Yes — me,” she said, pointing proudly at herself. “I am people.”

She looked ageless, her skin smooth as porcelain, her eyes cold as a lunar crater. "Eleanor," Julian said, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "I see you’ve spent the last decade playing goddess in the dark." "And I see you’ve spent yours playing peasant in the mud," Eleanor countered, her gaze shifting to Clara with a look of clinical curiosity. "The 'Wild Variable.' Tell me, dear, was it worth it? Trading a galactic empire for a vegetable patch?" The Heart of the Summit

But, I don’t have proof, and that’s what makes it worse. My fingers dug into the steering wheel, leather creasing beneath the pressure. If I had evidence, I would’ve destroyed them already. Eleanor moves like smoke, impossible to grasp, suffocating when ignored, untouchable, careful, never leaving traces. She works from the shadows, pulling strings without ever appearing responsible. She’s smart. She surrounds herself with people who would take the fall before she ever would. Taking her down won’t just require power. It’ll require precision, and patience.

she turned and flashed me a fake smile and she wasn't hiding it, "well, what's your name?" I turned to Adrian, he didn't look at me, he already expected me to know what so say. "C...Cam... Camilla" I stuttered. She took a slow sip. Her eyes stayed on me. "What do you do, Camilla?" "Art," Adrian said before I could open my mouth. "She's an artist." Antonia tilted her head. "What kind of art?" "Paintings," Adrian said. "She's very talented." I looked at him. I had never painted anything in my life. I drew logos on a computer. That wasn't art. Not to these people.

She always called. She thought about her phone in her bag. She walked to number thirty four. She knocked. The door opened. It was not Eleanor. Camila Calloway stood in the doorway of number thirty four Calder Street and looked at Helena with the expression of someone who had been waiting for something they had planned precisely and the thing had arrived exactly on schedule. Helena looked at her.

The audience was in disbelief. First of all, Haley was the well-known artist Jellyfish. Second, Eleanor, who was well-known in D city social circles for her "kindness and grace," had a very vicious side. "You're lying! All of it is false.” Eleanor yelled in anger. With her hand raised to slap Haley, Eleanor lunged forward. "You're just jealous of everything I have!"

Something that would be, in its own small way, a promise. Eleanor had given him the name without hesitation, which meant she'd already known the answer. Eleanor always knew. The jeweller — Claire, fifties, precise, warm — met him at the door. She was small and solid, with grey-streaked hair pulled back in a practical bun and hands that moved with the particular economy of someone who had spent decades working with small, delicate things. Her studio was in the back, past the display cases and the workbench, through a door that led to a room filled with light and tools and the quiet hum of something being made.

` He threw his head back as he cackled like a madman. `Finally, we’ll be done with this damned world.` The video glitched, and Eleanor was shown sitting on a couch and staring into the camera. `Hi,` she smiled, waving a bit. `I’m Eleanor, the sun child, or rather the Child of Day, as you’ve been told. That video was just one of the very many evils the parliamentarians have done. My friends, the rebels, and I have put together a lot of videos to show you the true twisted nature of the monsters you adore. I hope you’re comfortable because this is going to be a long ride.`

She had short black hair and freckles on her face. “good day miss, I was sent to help you prepare” I opened the door wider for her to come in. she walked in and set her equipment down. “I’m Elena” “Camila, please” I sat down on the stool and she got to work doing my makeup first then my hair. Once she was done. I opened my eyes and stared at the mirror.