Blackie D’Angelo lived in the heart of Birmingham. Quinlan Castle once was a large complex of condominiums set on the mountain’s rise overlooking the city. The façade of the structure reflected its name. Made of red stone blocks rising five stories tall, the roofline gave the appearance of an ancient castle with its merlon battlements. Each of the four corners of the castle had a parapet connected by a walkway, making all four parapets connected by one path. Sometimes Blackie D’Angelo could be seen at night walking the roofline of her castle, watching over the Magic City, as Birmingham is often called. For many years, Quinlan Castle sat derelict until Blackie purchased the landmark building. Completely gutting the interior, she spent millions turning it into a medieval palace of sorts. She added turrets to every side of Quinlan along with stone balconies so that the lights of the city could be seen from the four master bedrooms. To be invited to Quinlan Castle was a rare honor to which very few Alabamians were bestowed.
Beryl waited outside the building until she saw Arielle pull up beside her. Both women got out and gave each other a brief and perfunctory hug. This was not a social situation or two girls meeting for drinks. There was an agenda.
“I am so confused, Arielle,” Beryl began. “Ever since I got your call last night, I have been rolling over what you said.”
“You didn’t tell anyone did you?” Arielle asked.
“No,” Beryl answered. “I made up a story about meeting a doctor friend. Why are we here? And more to the point, why did you reach out to me and not Seth or Salem?”
Arielle took a deep breath of the chilly night air, all the chillier being that they were on top of a small mountain overlooking the city. “My Aunt Blackie called me and told me I needed to come to see her, with a Blanchard—but not one of Nacaria’s children or sisters. She said Nacaria’s family are not her biggest fans, but she needed a Blanchard since I wasn’t able to answer her question.”
Beryl was puzzled. “What question was that?”
Arielle looked Beryl square in the eyes and replied, “If I have seen Nacaria’s shadow lately.”
Beryl and Arielle stood outside the thick, oak, monastery-style arched door waiting to be shown inside after ringing the bell. When the doors were opened, Beryl stepped into an entrance hall with twenty-foot ceilings capped by heavy beams. The walls were the same reddish stone of the exterior. Arched doorways all around seemed to open to what could only be described as multiple chambers. An elaborately carved wooden staircase rose to a landing high above where two other staircases rose on either side to reach the upper floors. Rich, intricate tapestries hung on several of the stone walls, and a lush garnet-colored carpet stretched up the stairs reminding Beryl of Scarlet and Rhett’s mansion in Gone with the Wind.
The housekeeper who answered the door was a squat little woman with gray hair tied in a bun. Beryl mused that she could have easily been mistaken for Aunt Bee, from The Andy Griffith Show. I’ve got to date more and watch less tv, Beryl thought to herself.
“She does look like Aunt Bee,” Blackie said from the window of the chamber nearest the entry.
Her presence startled Beryl. She had no idea her hostess was standing so close. Beryl could see her now, standing before a great window lined with heavy drapes of dark red velvet. Blackie D’Angelo was beautiful. Cascading black hair that stretched to her waist and when she moved it moved with her almost as if it had a life of its own. She was clearly of a generation older than Beryl but, like Demitra and Artemis, she looked young for her age. Blackie wore a slender black dress which showcased her trim figure.
Arielle ran forward and embraced her aunt like a little girl. Blackie’s austere facade broke the moment her arms enveloped her niece. Beryl could tell right away that Aunt Blackie was perhaps the only one of Arielle’s relations—besides her father—who loved her.
“You read thoughts,” Beryl said, joining them in the chamber. It was clear by the décor that Ms. D’Angelo liked a Knights of the Round Table/King Arthur motif.
“I can,” Blackie laughed, coming forward to take a seat on the antique sofa. She gestured for Beryl to join her as Aunt Bee poured them each a glass of wine. “It is so good to see you, Arielle. It has been a couple of years since we last had the opportunity.”
“I’ve missed you Blackie,” Arielle beamed as she sat next to her aunt, still clutching her hand.
“And I have sorely missed you, my sweet girl.”
The next quarter hour was spent going through niceties and small talk. All three being southern women, they all recognized the rules of graciousness before moving onto the real purpose for the meeting. Blackie asked Arielle all about how her life in Atlanta was proceeding as well as tossing a few polite questions to Beryl concerning her career. Likewise, Beryl returned the favor with a few dull but polite questions for Blackie. The final one, sparking the start of the real reason they were there.
“Do you belong to a Birmingham coven?” Beryl asked.
“No,” Blackie answered. “I am no longer a member of the Consort. I find it tedious, their politics. My father always said witches are the next level of evolution. I have found the Consort and its Council are more inclined to keep us at mortal levels than I am comfortable with.”
Beryl was surprised by this statement. All her life she’d heard Olympia espouse the importance of the Consort and the unity of witches everywhere. The protections and guidance from having a formed government of their kind had been indispensable in helping protect the Natural Order.
Beryl realized Blackie was again reading her thoughts when she added, “I have great respect for Olympia Blanchard and her wisdom. I just do not believe the majority of Council members possess the same depth. You’ll recall that my sister sits on the Council.”
Beryl sipped her wine and smiled politely at her hostess. “So, you knew my Aunt Nacaria?”
“Oh, my yes,” Blackie began. “She was my dearest friend in the world. I met her when we were children—at the Consort in fact. We remained friends well into our adulthood.”
Beryl said, “Arielle told us it was you who introduced her to Xander Obreiggon.”
“Very true. Of course, it was all quite innocent. Xander and I were close friends, and I introduced them at a meeting. I had no idea his marriage with my sister was as precarious as it ended up being. Of course, I do not fault Xander for that. My sister is a… challenging woman at her best.”
“Isn’t that why you left the Consort?” Arielle chimed in. “Because of Nacaria’s trial?”
“Partly,” Blackie explained. “After the trial, I began having my own difficulties with my sister. It only fueled the resentment I still harbored for Nacaria’s punishment.”
Beryl was slightly puzzled by this statement. “It was my understanding that you were the one who testified against Nacaria at her trial,” Beryl pressed on. “Not to be rude, but why would her punishment be so offensive to you?”
Blackie did not answer right away. Though Beryl did not possess the same power to read her mind, it was obvious Blackie was calculating exactly how to word her reply—perhaps to protect herself.
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“I had to tell the truth of what I knew. The Consort required vows,” Blackie began. Beryl knew the seriousness of vows. Powers are waged when taking a vow. No witch would dare lie and lose their abilities. Blackie went on, “To cover for my friend would have only taken me down as well. Nacaria was wrong for what she did, but you also must know my sister to truly appreciate why Nacaria felt compelled to do what she did. Atheidrelle was always wicked—just short of evil, in my opinion. And maybe not short of it at all. I’ve no doubt she is still quite reprehensible.”
Beryl bristled at this. True as it may be—and she had always heard this same rhetoric about Atheidrelle from her family—Atheidrelle was Arielle’s mother. And Arielle was sitting right there. But it didn’t appear to be upsetting Arielle to hear her mother so berated.
“It all sounds terribly complex,” Beryl sighed. “I’ve never been able to completely understand what all happened back then.”
“Very few people can. There are layers to everything. Some layers come to light, others never do.”
A low chime rang out from a cock somewhere which Beryl could not see as she scanned the darkly decorated room. Quinlan Castle felt heavy. Or perhaps it was the energy coming from Blackie. Whichever it was, Beryl wanted to speed things along.
“May I ask why you wanted to see me tonight?” Beryl asked. “I would have thought you’d want to talk with my mother or my aunt or my grandmother or—even more importantly—Salem or Seth. Why me?”
Blackie stood up and strolled back to the window where Beryl had first seen her. It was clear Blackie had something to tell but was unsure how to do so. Perhaps whatever it was involved some of those layers she had just been speaking about. Perhaps she was trying to bring some of them to light yet needed to conceal others.
“I would never upset your grandmother needlessly. Neither would I want to bring Nacaria’s children into this matter until I can corroborate my suspicions. Those two have suffered enough already.”
“And I said nothing to Salem,” Arielle offered. “She believes I am at night classes and then going to a late movie with friends.”
Beryl was becoming more intrigued by the second. She rose and joined Blackie at the window where the woman was standing, pensive, staring into the night. “Tell me what is going on, please.”
“What do you know about your aunt’s condition?” Blackie asked.
Beryl shrugged, “What any of us do, I suppose. She’s cursed to be a shadow on the wall at home while her body lies somewhere in a coma, administered by the Council as her penance.”
“But she isn’t in a coma,” Blackie countered with a mysterious air about her. “Not now. At least she shouldn’t be.”
“I don’t understand.”
Blackie walked back to the sofa where Arielle was seated. Beryl followed her. Blackie’s violet eyes fixed into Beryl’s blue. Beryl could tell the woman was genuinely worried about something. Then Blackie asked, “When was the last time you saw Nacaria’s shadow?”
“I don’t know,” Beryl admitted, feeling a little guilty for the answer. They’d all just sort of fallen into the normalcy of it at home. They really didn’t pay the shadow attention anymore. “She is always around somewhere. Sometimes we see her; sometimes we don’t. We’ve all just grown accustomed to it.”
“But when exactly was the last time you saw her shadow yourself? Arielle remembers it at Halloween, but she didn’t recall seeing it Thanksgiving when she was last there.”
Beryl thought about it. She was not actually sure. She knew Halloween was definite, it was Seth’s wedding day, and even after he and Yasmine returned from the honeymoon. Nacaria flashed by while they had been recounting their adventures in Jamaica. After that, Beryl could not be sure. The shadow on the wall had become too much a part of life at Blanchard House; Beryl was so accustomed to it that she paid it little attention anymore.
“I know for a fact that Nacaria’s curse has been lifted,” Blackie interrupted her new friend’s thoughts. “She’s served her time.”
“How could you know that?” Beryl was astonished. “No one knows that date. Not even my grandmother. That is part of the punishment. The term of the curse was never disclosed.”
“Trust me, Beryl. I know.”
“Does that mean she’s been released and didn’t want to come home?” Arielle asked.
“It could,” Blackie said. “Or it could mean any number of things. Beryl, your family should have been alerted by Dredmore Asylum the moment Nacaria woke up from the curse. She would have been in no condition to make decisions for herself after having been immobile and detached from her body for so many years. I don’t understand why your family wasn’t contacted.”
“We aren’t positive she’s been freed,” Beryl noted. “I don’t mean to sound distrusting, but I’m not actually sure when the last time anyone in my family has seen my aunt’s shadow, and I am taking a lot here based on just your word—the word of a stranger.”
“Who also happens to be Atheidrelle’s sister,” Blackie nodded understandingly.
“I’m sorry, but yes,” Beryl confessed. Arielle jumped in excitedly, “Oh Beryl, you can trust Blackie! She’s not like Mother at all. She would not lie to you about this.”
Beryl thought a moment before replying. “I think I need to call home and ask my mother about the shadow.”
“Please do,” Blackie requested. “If I’m right, then hopefully you will know you can trust me, and we can get to the bottom of this.”
Beryl made the call. Demitra did not understand at first until Beryl explained what she’d been told by Blackie D’Angelo. Beryl asked her mother when the last time she had seen her sister’s spirit roaming the house. Like Beryl, Demitra could not pinpoint the most recent time. Beryl was quick to warn Demitra not to say a word to Olympia. Beryl feared that at her age, the old woman might become upset and suffer a stroke or heart attack. With Beryl in Birmingham, she would not be there to heal her.
Ending the call with her mother, Beryl turned to Blackie, “Okay, I believe you. What do we do now? Do we contact the Council?”
“No,” Blackie cautioned. “We must have complete secrecy. I suspect someone is holding Nacaria against her will. Maybe they took her from Dredmore Asylum forcibly. Maybe they are still holding her there. It is also possible…she may be dead.”
“Dead?” Arielle gasped. “That would devastate my father.”
“It is a possibility,” Blackie continued. “That too would explain the absence of her shadow.” Blackie was running through possibilities now, her train of thought exhausting all avenues. “Although if that were the case, the asylum administrators would have contacted the family…unless foul play is involved, and the administrators are part of the plot...but that would be nearly impossible to pull off.”
“What do we do, Blackie?” Arielle pressed.
“I must get to Dredmore as soon as possible,” Blackie said.
“What if you’re right about the administration?” Beryl interjected. “If you go to the asylum, you wouldn’t be allowed inside.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that part of it,” Arielle grinned to Beryl. “No one will have any idea she’s even there. Show her, Blackie.”
Blackie walked to a nearby carved wooden throne and sat down. She stared straight into Beryl’s eyes and disappeared. Beryl gasped. She had vanished completely. Then as quickly as she had disappeared, Blackie was back seated in the chair once more.
“What just happened?” Beryl asked. “Did you freeze me and run out of the room?”
“I do not possess time-stopping abilities,” Blackie smiled.
“Wait!” Beryl exclaimed. “Salem told me her father has the ability to jump space and time and appear in other locations.”
“It’s called leaping,” Arielle informed. “But she didn’t do that either. What she did was hypnotize you into not being able to see her. She basically told your brain it doesn’t see her anymore.”
“Amazing power,” Beryl marveled. “So, you’re suggesting you use your ability to enter Dredmore and remain unseen by anyone inside? Then you can see if Aunt Nacaria is still there?”
“Yes, with some assistance. I cannot do it alone. It is impossible for me to actually get inside without being seen. I have to look into their eyes to use my power,” Blackie explained.
“But if her sentence has been lifted, why all the secrecy? This sounds like a rescue mission. Don’t we have the right to simply go in and get her?”
Blackie tried to explain, “Dredmore is a Consort institution. To just burst in is a punishable crime.”
“But if they have done something to Nacaria…”
“It is highly doubtful the institution itself has done anything. It’s very reputable,” Blackie explained. “Witches locked up in Dredmore are assigned one caretaker. Most of the prisoners are in comas like Nacaria or trapped in cells living out whatever punishments they are forced to endure. Prison officials make routine inspections of the inmates, but the caretaker is their chief warden.”
Beryl thought about what Blackie said. “That means Nacaria’s caretaker is the one who would most likely know what’s happened. Perhaps Nacaria convinced the caretaker not to report her recovery to our family? Perhaps the caretaker was overpowered and Nacaria was abducted?”
Blackie nodded, “We can’t know what happened until I can get inside the asylum. But even then, it’s not simple. There are hundreds of prisoners, each in a fortified private cell. We don’t even know which cell is Nacaria’s. Therefore, I need to be able to walk unseen among everyone; I have to locate her cell without anyone seeing me. But first, we have to find a way in.”
“So how do we get you inside?”
“Dredmore is heavily guarded and fortified. We can go there, and we can ring the bell, but no one is going to let us in. We will be turned away.”
“But you can hypnotize them and get inside?” Arielle noted.
“Not exactly,” Blackie replied. “We can’t risk the staff seeing us until we can be sure Dredmore’s security hasn’t been compromised.”
“We need Salem’s freezing power,” Arielle suggested.
“It sounds like we need to assemble a team,” Beryl said. “I need to go home to Blanchard House. The family deserves to know what is going on, and we are going to need some help to get you inside Dredmore.”