When Jacob saw the address, he knew he couldn’t drive down there alone, or in one of his expensive luxury vehicles. With this in mind he called his driver with specific instructions. That’s how he ended up in the passenger seat of an old beat up 1974 Ford pickup truck. It looked like someone’s project car, and the lumps in the seat felt like it too.


    “Thanks for doing this, it’s over and above what our contract calls for.”


    “Where’d you get the truck?”


    “I bought it for my son. It still needs a lot of work?”


    “Oh,” Jacob didn’t want to offend the man, he obviously works hard to provide for his family.


    “He’s turning sixteen next month and will have his drivers license soon after. I didn’t want to hand him something new and shiny when I have no doubt he’s going to drive it to the ground. I wouldn’t be surprised if he drove into a ditch week one.” The driver laughed wholeheartedly.


    “Teenagers can be reckless,” Jacob chuckled.


    If he hadn’t be on his way to talk an old woman about an evil man trapped in a mirror who was terrorizing his loved ones, he would think they were just two friends heading out to the bar for a beer or two.


    “We’re here Sir.”


    Jacob sighed looking at the shabby little house. The dirty white paint was peeling from the walls and the chain-link fence bordered an unkept and overgrown yard. The house had probably been a cute homey place fifty years ago, when it was new. Now it just looked as if the owners had abandoned it.


    “Stay here and keep the truck running. I’m not sure how long this will take me. Just stay in view. This area doesn’t feel very safe.”


    With that said, Jacob stepped out of the truck and picked up the small bouquet of wildflowers he had brought for the old lady, Miss. Shayla. With a little trepidation he opened the flimsy chain-link fence gate and stepped through. Once inside the overgrown weed ridden yard the sounds of the outside world silenced. It felt as if a bubble had enveloped the entire property, protecting it from outside forces. The silence was only broken with the sweet sound of birds happily chirping and soft classical music coming from inside. The bubble even filtered out the heavy smog smell he had choked on outside the fence.


    The stairs creaked as he slowly made his way to the door. The house was in worse shape than he could see from the truck. The porch bords creaked and bowed with each step he took, and the old aluminum screen had holes in it large enough to reach in and touch the white painted door.


    Softly he knocked and waited for a reply, but none came. Jacob waited five full minutes before knocking again, this time it was a little harder. She had been expecting him so she should be here. When no answer came, he decided to call Matty.


    “Matty, no one is answering the door. I’m concerned because she knew I was coming.”


    Jacob heard a soft but audible sigh come from the other end of the line.


    “Remember I said she was very fearful of people?”


    “Yeah.”


    “Look to your left, there should be a small table and a chair. And if I know my grandmother there should be a pitcher of iced tea and some cookies or some kind of sweet treat.”


    “Yep,” Jacob smiled, this was a sweet old-fashioned lady. “She even put out a vase for the flowers I brought. How did she know I’d bring flowers?”


    “She knows things, it’s spooky. Just go have a seat and pour yourself a glass and wait. When she’s feeling comfortable, she’ll start talking. Also, don’t interrupt her or talk much. She’ll tell you everything you need to know.”


    “Thanks, bye.”


    As instructed Jacob took a seat which allowed him a side view into the dark house. He couldn’t see anyone anywhere near the window, so he poured himself a glass of iced tea and waited.


    Twenty minutes later he had eaten two delicious chocolate chip cookies, finished his tea, and arranged the flowers in the vase.


    “Your aura is a very bright blue. It means you are a very balanced person. This is good. To get through this situation you’ll need to keep yourself balanced and grounded in the present. I also see thin streams of pink flowing through the blue tying your emotions of love and loyalty together.” The old woman spoke to Jacob through the half open and dirty window.


    “Thank you, I think. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”


    “You may not feel that way when we are finished. Alexander Blackwell was an evil witch hunter who lived in the mid 1800’s. During this time witch hunting was common, but Alex took his hunting to an all-new level. Witch hunters were supposed to find witches and proof of their witchcraft and turn them in to stand trial. But Alexander did not always follow that law. Very often he would murder any woman he suspected of witchcraft, even without evidence to support his belief. He would often end entire covens. Admis his evil rampage many innocent women died at his hands. Midwifes who could reduce childbirth pain with herbs and message, herbalist who helped to heal the people of the town, even young girls who used their wiles on young boys where murdered because he suspected them to be witches.”This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Miss Shayla stopped speaking; Jacob could see her visibly shaking even through the dirty window.


    “Miss Shayla…” she put up her hand to stop him from speaking.


    “Alexanda Blackwell was a highly respected member of the city council and had turned in many witches that were proven guilty. Because of this he knew and was friends with most of the law enforcement in the area. No one would believe he would have committed such heinous crimes. It is thought that murdered over a hundred women and children under the guise of witchcraft. There is even a story that he tossed two infant twin girls into a deep water well and forced their mother to watch them drown, screaming and flailing around until their cries died away. After which, he slit her throat and tossed her into the well.”


    Tears were streaming down Miss Shalya’s cheeks as if she were watching the scene fold out in front of her not something that happened almost two hundred years ago. Jacob is in awe of this woman who could reach out and feel such sorrow for someone she had never known.


    “Now that you know what he was you need to know about White Dove Coven. When this all began, they were a group of thirteen young women, each with very unique gifts. They met on a regular basis to worship and cast. Most of their casting consisted of healing and protection spells. The women kept very detailed herbology, midwifery, and nursing journals. Several of them worked in the areas. It was at one such meeting that one of the women, a young girl named Abigail, started talking about her uncle. She knew he was a witch hunter, and she suspected he was doing more then turning witches into the law. Abigail had been keeping track of his comings and goings because she knew he was a hunter, and she was a witch. The last three times he was out of town there was a tragic event involving suspected witches in one of the surrounding downs of the area.”


    Jacob had taken a small notebook out of his jacket and jotted down some details of the story, mostly just names, but he didn’t want to get caught up in the emotions of the story and forget the details he needed to remember and research.


    “Once the coven suspected that Alexander Blackwell was a prolific serial murderer, and they knew they couldn’t go to the police, they began to track him. Soon they realized that Alexander was also becoming suspicious of their coven. By then they were already too late. The night before one of their own had mysteriously gone missing. The story that had been floated around was that she had wanted out of her marriage and had just left in the middle of the night. It was true that she had not been happy in her marriage, to the point of getting a job at the local school as a teacher in order to have an excuse to be away from him. By the time they formulated and agreed on a plan two more of their own had been lost.”


    Miss Shayla paused, sighed heavy, then softly asked, “Please wait here, I need a few moments to myself.”


    “Yes, Ma’am.”


    Jacob looked out into the street, the truck and driver were still there. However, from this perspective the truck looked so much more than an old beat-up pick-up truck. He could see how it could be a sixteen-year-old boy’s dream. It represented freedom and fun. It screamed independence and dependability. This morning it had run a little rough, nothing a tune up and maybe a new muffler, couldn’t fix. The body was solid and clean, well it did desperately need a bath, but no big dents. Jacob thought how funny it was, the things that change your perspective on life.


    Another looked around and Jacob noticed that the sun was already beginning its westward decent towards the other side of the earth. Time had ceased to mean anything as he sat and listened to Miss. Shayla’s story. How could a single person recount the past as if she’d stood there two hundred years ago so well was extraordinary.


    A few minutes later Miss. Shayla reappeared at the dirty half drawn window. Indicating that she was beginning to feel a little more comfortable with Jacob she pushed the window open fully. For the first time Jacob could see the glorious women who had been speaking to him for most of the morning. She was anything but a fragile woman. Yes, she was older, maybe in her mid to late sixties. However, she carried herself with a strong sturdy frame. She had a full head of thick silver white long curly hair which she had piled on top of her head in a messy bun clipped with an absolutely beautiful white gold and diamond hair clip. Her icy blue eyes scrutinized him with love and concern. Jacob felt like she was trying to decide if he had what it was going to take to follow through with what he needed to do.


    “Welcome back,” Jacob smiled softly and gave her a small head nod.


    “Thank you,” Miss. Shayla gave him a small smile and Jacob would have sworn she even blushed a little bit.


    “To continue. It took the Coven almost three months to prepare for the ritual. Primarily because it had to be done on a full moon and on Friday the 13^th. During this time, they implemented the buddy system to keep each other safe, and Abigail kept them apprised of her uncle’s movements. It was a stressful time. That Friday morning Abigail arranged to be with her Uncle Alex and made him some very special English scones with a savory spread consisting of various herbs to induce sleep, valerian root, ashwagandha, and elderberry among others. He would be to courteous to not eat one with his tea. Once he was fast asleep the women secured him with rope to a chair in the basement of the cottage on Blackwells Peak. That is where they performed the ritual to trap him in the mirror. It went just as they planned except for one thing. Every prison needs a warden. In most cases this warden is an object that can keep the bonds of the prison securely closed. This one needed something with more flexibility and power. The Coven hadn’t known beforehand that the ritual would choose its own warden, it chose Abigail. For two hundred years Abigail has kept the bond of Alexander Blackwell’s prison shut tight. After that they became known as the Blackwell Coven. For the first few years The Blackwell Coven was able to communicate with Abigail. As time went on the mirror passed down from generation to generation. Each generation accepted the responsibility of keeping the mirror safe and retelling the legend.”


    Jacob gasped at the realization that there were two individuals trapped in this mirror, not just the one monster.


    “Along with the mirror there should be a handwritten leather-bound journal. The Coven documented it all for future Blackwell Covens. They wrote it all down, including how to destroy the mirror and Alexander Blackwell if it should ever come to that. Past generations of Blackwell Covens had not wanted to destroy it because it meant also destroying Abigail. Do you have this journal?”


    “No, but I think I know where it is.”


    “It’s going to be a few weeks before we are ready. Find that journal, gather all the pieces of the mirror that are large enough to cast a reflection, then ask Matty to set up another meeting. Next time, bring Cheri with you.”


    “Thank you for giving me your time and help.”


    Miss. Shayla smiled and shut the window and Jacob continued to the truck. Many of his questions answered then replaced with new questions.