St Ginerva's Asylum for the Supernaturally Insane
Confidential Psychological Report
Patient Number: 55602
Patient Name: Blaise Patricia Trudeau aka The Black Heretic. Aliases include: Andrea Morris, Clara White, Alice Sawyer, Endora Watson, Saxon Strauss, Alicia Wright, Wanda Spellman, Kate Vaughn, Phoebe Halliwell, Evie Connor, Samantha Stephens, (continued on Page 2) Patient has previously gone into great detail with her last twenty therapists regarding her love for aliases as well as: "Doing my best to ignore all of your stupid questions, like I need a shrink to tell me that I'm fucked in the head!" (Blaise has often professed that she doesn't believe in labels.) She has been known to use stolen identities when committing her more petty crimes, particularly those of people she knows personally in order to antagonise them.
Date of Birth: 03/13/92
Species: Witch
Threat Level: Catastrophic
Background and Behavioural Observations: Despite her distinguished background via her maternal witch family The Halliwells, as well as being raised around The Charmed Ones, in adulthood Blaise has proven to be a destructive and uncontrollable threat to both the forces of good and evil. Though the role she played in the Black Tuesday Event is undeniable, her actions in recent years cannot go ignored. The abuse of her abilities which range from various forms of personal gain to attacking fellow witches, as well as her other crimes previously mentioned in her redacted file ultimately led to her being institutionalised by her family. Her emotionally volatile state has proven to be a major obstacle during her time at this facility, this coupled with the failure rate of various methods of psychotherapy and talking therapy has contributed to the high turnover rate of her therapists. She has made little process in the year since she was admitted, and has proven adamant to refuse any kind of treatment. As of this writing a new therapist has yet to be allocated to her.
Since her arrival, Blaise has been formally diagnosed with PTSD and clinical depression, with her treatment currently ongoing. The early losses of her mother and father as well as her unstable childhood as a whole have proven to be key events in her development, which have negatively affected her and continue to be major factors behind her behaviour and refusal to receive treatment. Blaise does not wish to be helped, as she believes that therapy was left too late for her by her aunts. She holds an unprecedented amount of anger and resentment towards said aunts, with a mere mention of them triggering one of her anger episodes. She has continuously refused visits from her family and friends, and as previously mentioned does not wish to cooperate with staff members or participate in group therapy. She is prone to mood swings, verbal abuse and has initiated violence via manipulation as well as physically towards other patients and staff which has recently resulted in her being placed in solitary confinement. Her behaviour continues to be erratic and alarming, and should this persist further discussions may need to be sought with her family on the subject of her future care. (Update 09/05 : Solitary Confinement stay has been extended, P. Halliwell to be contacted.)
(10/04 - No progress made with magic treatment)
(10/06 - Attempt No.5 ended with two healers dead.)
(10/15 - All of the healers on staff are now refusing to treat her.)
Clinical Diagnosis:
Superiority Complex: Stemming from her troubled childhood caused by demons, warlocks and in part her aunts, Blaise believes she is truly better than them by virtue of existing.
PTSD: Blaise witnessed the death of her father at age six, as well as multiple others. Her time in the Underworld, most notably the time where in which she REDACTED. The constant attacks from magical creatures as a child have evidently taken their toll on Blaise, though she refuses to admit that she suffers from the disorder.
Depression: The loss of her mother and father, the demon attacks she faced on a daily basis as a child, her inability to live a normal life without magic, her struggle with control over her abilities, along with REDACTED, REDACTED and other matters which she refuses to openly disclose in detail to staff.
OCD: She was diagnosed at age 13 by a mortal therapist.
Visual Hallucinations: Blaise has often been seen conversing with imaginary figures since she was first admitted. (Possible side effect of the damage done to her magic.)
Control Issues: Her traumatic childhood, her lack of trust in people in positions of authority, her emotional sensitivity, along with a crystal clear fear of losing control both mentally and physically.
Possible Antisocial Personality Disorder (Awaiting diagnosis)
Long Term Recommendations: I recommend that Blaise undergo the anger management program, as well as continue her stay in solitary until her behaviour calms down. I also believe it is in her best interest to try to have her re-establish a line of communication with her family, beginning with her primary guardian Piper Halliwell. Blaise's resentment towards her family must be further investigated in future sessions, as well as to why she continues to reject all forms of communication from her cousin Wyatt Halliwell, her grandfather Victor Bennett and best friend Michael Morris, three people whom she has spoken fondly of many times in sessions. Trust and consistency are the key to establishing a relationship with Blaise, so her various treatments and therapies should be handled by an individual doctor, preferably with no connection to her aunts.
Her magic must continue to be monitored. (Treatment Plan: Page 5)
I believe that if her anger issues, narcissistic behaviour and her unhealthy fixation on blaming all of her personal issues on her aunts continues to go untreated, the side effects to her psyche as well as her magic will only increase with time. Her magic grows more and more difficult to contain with each passing day, so drastic action is required if she is to continue to be safely detained. Contact with other patients must remain limited in the future, given that Nina Michaels, Millicent Fields, Jacob Moore and Ryan Parker still remain in critical condition in the ICU. It is clear she is attempting to wear down anyone who comes into contact with her in the facility with every method at her disposal, so more must be done if she is to be successfully rehabilitated and re-introduced to society. As of this writing she continues to pose an enormous threat to the lives of both mortals and witches alike and will remain at St Ginerva's for the foreseeable future. (11/13 N. Michaels, M. Fields, J. Moore and R. Parker are deceased.) Her aunts have offered to assist in her rehabilitation in any way possible, and hopefully with time she will agree to contact with them as well as her extended family. (12/20 Blaise's personal privileges have been reinstated for good behaviour.) (Continued overleaf)
Susie Spector closed the file with a sigh, crossing her legs as she finally had her fill of reading. She had seen enough.
Of course she knew all of this already though. There wasn't a witch alive that hadn't heard of The Black Heretic, a source of constant division within the magical community. Some loved her with an unrivalled passion, some hated her for the terrible things she had done, but no matter which camp you fell in anyone with enough sense knew to fear her. Her own family were scared of her after all, enough to have her locked up. It had been a whole year since the day the Charmed Ones had had her committed to St Ginerva's Asylum, and yet still she managed to inspire fear beyond the walls of her cell in her detractors and unwavering loyalty in her followers. Some said she was mad, a bizarre anomaly in the otherwise pristine Warren Family line of witches. Others whispered that she was Lilith reborn, back to usher in a new golden age for witches everywhere.
And Susie?
Susie thought she was completely fascinating. She had done for years.
She had read every public record available about Blaise Trudeau, consuming information as though she were a ravenous hunger demon. Her half-witch half mortal status, her childhood losses, her tumultuous relationship with the Charmed Ones and the Black Tuesday event made for an incredibly interesting but elusive figure. Everyone knew the troubled witch that had almost brought the whole magical community to it's knees, but what about the person underneath all of the layers of immense power and fame? Who was The Black Heretic when all of that was peeled away? Did she have any regrets? What motivated her? Why had she done what she did? Susie intended to find out.
Many questions had swarmed through her mind once she had hit a wall in her research of the witch, leaving her eager to find out just what it was that made her tick. Someone with that much drama and tragedy and misfortune in her life was someone she knew she needed to find out more about and with a little bit of luck, to hopefully meet in person. And so her book on the notorious figure was born, sinking it's claws into her chest and dragging her away from all other projects and responsibilities. This was a story that needed to be told. A story that people from every corner of the magical world would be clamouring to read about. The real Blaise Trudeau, her own words and story completely unfiltered by doctors, Elders or Charmed Ones.
(Admittedly, she was kind of a fan.)
After making a start on the book, Susie had decided to try and contact people from Blaise's life, who would have first hand accounts of the key events of her life to present the conflicting opinions on her in the opening chapter. She'd gathered quotes from witches, leprechauns, familiars, vampires, Whitelighters, Darklighters and even a few memory wiped mortals she'd managed to track down and perform some memory extracting spells on. Of course there was the many innocents the Halliwell family had saved in the course of their magical career, but those with anything worth telling about her subject were inevitably the hardest to track down.
After this Susie had set out to interview her followers, bright-eyed, fanatic and utterly devoted, as well as more than eager to aid her with any information they had on their beloved idol. "Make it right!" One woman had pleaded with her, eyes shining with enthusiastic passion as she had clutched her arm. "Show the true Black Heretic! She who will make witches reign supreme!" (Susie didn't dare ask how she was going to do that from a solitary prison cell without her magic.) She'd been gifted large information dumps which she had either had to condense, completely cut out, or edit to make coherent to the reader. So messy and over dramatic!
But once all of that was out of the way, she went on to target her subject's nearest and dearest living relatives as well as the few friends she had managed to procure in her life. The Morris family had shut the door in her face and her friends had promptly ran from her when she had announced her intentions to them.
As for the Charmed Ones the whitelighter/witch hybrid had orbed her away, the one that married the Cupid had attempted to hex her and the scary one had been ready to attack her before being pulled away by her husband. The husbands had been a complete bust too, and Susie feared that if she attempted to contact any of Blaise's cousins she wouldn't get off as easily as she had with their parents. It was a setback admittedly, but still, that left plenty of room for the woman herself to give her an honest account of all that went on before the drastic change in her behaviour.
But there was one problem standing in her way, one thing that was keeping her fledgling book from being completed.
Blaise Trudeau under no circumstances allowed for anyone to contact her.
She didn't allow anyone to visit her, letters and packages were sent back unopened, phone calls were answered and hung up on within seconds, and any attempts to pass on a message were ignored. But Susie had never been one to back down from a challenge, and so that was how she had found herself sat at home in her sweats and calling up the warden of St Ginerva's to request that Blaise add her to her non-existent visitor list. A little research and a few bribes later and she managed to procure the elusive number of the Warden. It was a total win in her book, as contact numbers weren't passed on to anyone outside of family members of patients. The people running the place were paranoid, and for good reason. They had the honour of housing the worst of the worst of supernatural creatures. Witches gone bad, Firestarters gone wild, uncontrollable Darklighters, Sirens, killer mermaids, ghosts, fairies and even the occasional werewolf. And those were just the ones that were public.
"You're writing a book?" The Warden repeated in complete disbelief, sounding half confused and half amazed to Susie. "About Trudeau?"
No your mother! Susie rolled her eyes. "Yes, Blaise Trudeau, patient 55602. I would like to be added to her visitor list, so if you could just put in a request to her-"
The Warden let out a mighty laugh, roaring with amusement as he processed what she had just heard. "Her? Her? I mean she does still have her visitor privileges, but it's her! She hardly speaks two words to any of our staff lady! Why the hell would she talk to you?" Another laughing fit took a hold of her much to Susie's disgruntlement, wasting another full two minutes. Susie closed her eyes, breathing in through her nose. She despised poor time management, and longed to give the insipid woman an earful for wasting her time. However she held back, mentally cautioning herself as she remembered that this was the person that could get her through the door and to Blaise. She needed to make this woman like her. Desperately.
Finally after what felt like an age, the Warden's laughter began to die down and Susie wasted no time in ploughing forward with her request. "I believe she'll wish to hear from me as I want to provide in this book an uncensored, honest account of her rise and fall. There's been many a rumour and false report on your patient Mrs Macready, I wish to set the record straight and I believe Blaise will do too. I mean who wouldn't?"
"How old are you?"
Susie blinked in surprise. "Huh?"
"How old are you Miss Spector?"
Just go with it. "Twenty-three ma'am. Why is that relevant?"
"She's killed people younger than that." With her voice filled with barely concealed emotion The Warden took a second to pause, and it spoke volumes for Susie. The hair on the back of her neck promptly shot up, cold chills running through her body. "So many witches, the healers who've tried to help her... She's cut off from her magic, and yet my staff refuse to go near her. She sits in that solitary cell of hers like she's dining at The Ritz. Anyone else would be begging to leave after a week, she's been in there for months and acts as though she's on some kind of vacation! Doesn't that tell you something Miss Spector? That woman is evil! Wrong in the head! The best thing anyone can do is keep well away from Blaise Trudeau!"
Susie swallowed, heart hammering as she refused to let her words rattle her. This was something she had to pursue, no matter what the danger was to her. "It tells me that there's a story worth telling there." She informed her, brisk and straight to the point. "If I stopped pursuing a story every time things with my subjects got a little scary, I wouldn't be much of an author now would I? Hell I wouldn't be much of a witch! So can you contact her for me or not?"
Silence reigned for a split second, deafening to Susie as she pondered over whether or not she was about the have yet another door slammed in her face.
"Your funeral."
The next thing Susie heard was the hold music, which was playing a very lovely tune she soon recognised as being The Waltz of the Flowers. Susie placed her phone on speaker and placed it on the couch arm, humming along as she pulled her laptop on to her lap to find something to occupy herself mentally with. She had no such look however, her mind immediately jumping back to the Warden's words. As much as she hated to admit it, they'd rattled her a little. Were they that scared of her? How could she be that dangerous when cut off from her magic and the outside world? What kind of games was she playing? As much as her nerves were jangling about like a hyperactive toddler, what she'd learned about the atmosphere of fear surrounding their most infamous patient sent a warm thrill rushing through her veins. How exciting! So much to unpack there!
Locked away with no hope of release, and yet she behaved as though she were a queen among her subjects.
She had to meet this woman!
"Burning the midnight oil I see?" Commented Susie's roommate Cara as she strolled into the living room, bleary-eyed and struggling with her coordination as she stumbled on to the couch beside her friend. "Nerd."
Susie waved off her taunt with a hard shove to her ribs, sending Cara into a fit of giggles. "Oh hush Sleeping Beauty, genius is afoot!" She grinned toothily, setting her laptop aside before gesturing excitedly to her phone. "While you were sleeping, I was on the phone to the Warden at St Ginerva's, and she's going to see if The Black Heretic is going to add me on to her visitor list! I'm on hold right now!" She exclaimed, pointing with her thumb to her phone as she almost proceeded to do a Tigger-like bounce with anticipation. "I mean they'll probably say no and I'll probably have to bribe them, but it's something! I'm on the precipice of something great, I can feel it in my bones Cara! God if only she says yes!" Writing a book about someone with the level of notoriety as Blaise Trudeau could launch her writing career in a whole new direction.
Cara tucked a strand of bed rustled blonde hair behind her ear, smiling to herself at Susie's rather child-like excitement. "Only you would be happy about potentially meeting a total psycho."
"You say psycho, I say the subject of my next bestseller." Susie retorted, flopping back down to the couch whilst barely stifling a yawn. "Think about it! Anything that's been written about her has either been speculation, sensationalist crap, or when she's being lumped in with other criminals. A book like this would break the mould! Get people talking! Set the record straight-"
Cara let out a mighty yawn, loud and proud as she stopped Susie mid-sentence. "You and your obsession with evil witches," Cara shook her head, "Is she at least a hot psycho?"
Susie placed a hand to her chest, nodding in confirmation. "The prettiest." She reached towards the wooden coffee table in front of them, where all of her 'Black Heretic' research was sprawled out messily on the surface. She pulled forth a polaroid of Blaise three years before her incarceration, which she had managed to procure after a rummage through one of her mortal high school friend's photo albums. At what seemed to have been a party, Blaise was dressed in a light pink halter top and a simple pair of jeans, a red cup in one hand and flashing a peace sign on the other. Dark black hair spilled down her shoulders like ink, a red apple hairclip slotted on both side of her head. Funnily enough now that she thought about it, Susie thought she did look a little like Snow White. She wore a wry smile as she stared directly at the camera, almost as if she knew something that the person capturing her image didn't. And it was the same look in her eyes, in every picture she'd managed to locate of her over the age of eight that drew you in to look at her almost automatically. Haunted. Like the past was playing out in front of her eyes over and over again, and everyone else just couldn't see it. Susie of course knew it well. It was ingrained in her very being, and had been for too many years to count. It was why she felt as though she could perhaps establish some form of trust with Blaise. They had both seen and experienced things they would rather not have. Maybe not on the same scale, but perhaps all she needed was someone to listen, unbiased with zero agenda.
"Wow," Cara stared, brows raised. "She is pretty, for a wackjob."
Susie snatched the polaroid back and tucked into her folder, her tongue sticking out at Cara all the while. "That wackjob could help further my career!"
"That's what you say about all of your obsessions." Cara tutted, rolling her eyes as she hopped to her feet. "You want any hot chocolate? I mean I'm up anyway, why not do some waitressing? God I'm turning into you, bringing my work home with me on the weekends..."
"With extra whipped cream please," Susie requested, batting her eyelashes as she swivelled her head to meet her roommate's gaze. "There's a great tip in it for ya!"
As Cara pulled out two cups from the kitchen cabinets, she simply responded with a middle finger and a grumble that combined a number of expletives directed at Susie.
Susie giggled at her annoyance, but her attention was soon redirected as she heard the hold music on her phone suddenly come to a stop. Oh my god! She dived towards her phone, taking it off speaker and shoving it with almost comical speed to her ear. "Hello?" She was vaguely aware of Cara snickering at her at the back of her mind, but all of Susie's focus was zeroed in on that one phone call. This one phone call could make or break her book, and make the difference between the brilliant tell-all she was envisioning or the run-of-the-mill biography it could morph into if she was denied her request. Hecate help me! She pleaded to herself.
"Miss Spector?" The Warden's no-nonsense voice returned, greeting Susie's ears rather sharply.
"Yes?" Susie was certain she could hear the blood pumping directly to her heart.
"Your request has been granted." She informed her. "Trudeau has agreed to add you to her visitor list."
What?
"She has?" Susie gaped in disbelief, overwhelming cheer flooding through her veins as she punched a fist in the air. Yes! Yes! This was it! "That's I-" She fumbled for words. "That's incredible, thank you!"
"Don't thank me, thank her." The Warden corrected, harshly enough that it made Susie jump with a start. "I don't know what she's playing at Miss Spector, but-" She inhaled deeply. "Just be careful, is all I'm saying. I went down to solitary myself and rather than a straight up denial she didn't even have to think about it! So god damn calm! I've never seen her that calm! I barely got the words out before she was telling me yes."
But the Warden's words went right over Susie's head, excitement pulling too thick a veil over her to give the woman's worries much thought. "So she'll see me?"
The Warden groaned in disgust. "You groupies are all the same. 9am tomorrow, you know where to go?"
"I do."
"Don't be late."
And with that, the dial tone was ringing in her ear.
Don't be angsty! For the love of all that is holy don't show yourself up!
Susie had a bad case of the nerves, to a crippling degree.
Here she was, on the brink of something huge! The chance to meet a famous figure that had gripped her interest ever since she had first found out about her. But as confident as she was in her ability to tell a great story and sell it to the public, Susie wasn't so certain that she had what it took to go toe-to-toe with someone like Blaise Trudeau. She had killed people. People with lives, hopes, fears, dreams, insecurities, hate, love... So much was bound up into just one person and she had snuffed lives out like they were just candle flames. The people she had interviewed who had known her had described her as a narcissist, a manipulator, heartless, bitchy and vindictive. She absolutely adored mind games, and no matter what the circumstance was she always made sure she came out on top. No one had a kind word to say about her, and yet here she was about to board a boat to go see her! The fact that she had so readily agreed to meeting with her had been playing on Susie's mind all night. Was this just one of her many games? Would she even agree to talk to her about her life?
Why break that seemingly unshakeable rule just to talk to her? When her opening up about her life wasn't even so much as on the table yet?
With so much to speculate over, Susie was given quite the surprise when a horn signalled in the waiting area of the dockyard that it was time to go.
She pulled her bag back over her shoulder and shoved her gloved hands into her coat pockets, a shiver running through her as a brutal wind whipped past her. Susie looked upwards at the darkening skies, silently noting that it was in all likelihood about to rain later. Great. The one day she didn't bring her umbrella with her. And she couldn't cast a deflecting charm for shit!
Thoroughly annoyed with herself, Susie joined the slowly burgeoning line of people who were waiting to get on the boat to the Asylum. She spotted some elves, a group of harassed-looking fairies, a few witches dotted about and even two or three green faced mortals seated already seated on the boat presumably on their way to visit some magical kin. Poor souls. She thought pityingly, as the line travelled further and further down.
They look way out of their depth.
It made her wonder of course, if the Morris' had ever attempted to visit Blaise despite her wish not to be contacted by anyone. They had been close once, hadn't they? The patriarch Darryl had been partners on the police force with Blaise's father, Michael Morris had been her best friend as a child, and she had been a part of their lives for years. How had they reacted, when they had learned what she had done? Her line of thought only made her wish even more that she could've gotten someone from the family to talk to her, but she had been on a deadline, and had needed to meet someone else in San Francisco. The Darklighter she'd hired had been getting impatient too, so all in all it had amounted to a pretty useless day, aside from the source she had managed to finally procure from Blaise's family.
As she got nearer to the boat she handed off her bag to be searched by a glum looking guard. He handed it off to another man sat behind him, and once he turned around Susie's vision was obscured by his big head from seeing what exactly he was doing to check her bag for anything insidious. Susie pouted. She'd been looking forward to seeing what their security measures were, she still hadn't been able to find out. The man in front of her though was quite possibly the most miserable man she had ever had the displeasure of meeting, she could see that he was of average height when he briefly stood up to retrieve something, balding and plumper than a ripe peach. He was attempting to diet though, if the stretch marks on his arms and the salad dinner located at the back of the hut he was located in was anything to go by. "Salutations." He sneered, shoving a sign-in sheet in front of her and handing back her bag. She assumed the Asylum wasn't paying them all that well if their decorum was anything to go by.
Susie simply offered him a polite smile in return, mumbling a hello as she bent down to scribble her name on to the sign-in sheet.
S. Spector -
She checked her watch.
S. Spector - 8.35 am - Blaise Trudeau
The guard's brows rose as he spun the clipboard back around, a short laugh escaping him. "Jeez." Susie simply shook her head, shifting along as the line began moving more and more down towards the boat.
Soon enough she could practically taste the sea salt in the air, the calm swish of wind against water greeting her as she made it past the last checkpoint to get to go on the boat. Susie glanced around to take in her surroundings, noting the boats of varying degrees of quality that were lined on either side of the pier they were all on, each of them bobbing quietly under the gloomy stare of the sky above. A jolt of nostalgia ran through her, memories of long ago beach trips on her father's boat now faded and worn away just like most of the boats around her. The line fiddled down and down until there was just two people in front of her, and Susie found herself bracing for the travel ahead of her. She steeled herself, inhaling and exhaling the deep sea breeze that reminded her of home before finally crossing the walkway on to the transportation boat.
Susie gripped her bag tightly, following closely behind the line of people as they all filed inside and went in search of somewhere to sit. The set-up reminded Susie a little of The Staten Island Ferry, only if the ferry had been allowed to fall into a state of complete disrepair. Worn wooden benches lined the room they were in, loudly groaning in protest as people hurried to sit down. As Susie wiped down an unoccupied spot by the window and sat, she saw peeling white paint on the walls, visible nails protruding from surfaces all around, and even a few spots of graffiti here and there. Magic seemed to be the only thing holding the boat together. A guard was posted on both sides of the entrance, grim-faced and robotic in their movements as they stared blankly ahead in their pristine Asylum uniforms that consisted of dark blue suits and a sewn on crest. The contrast was almost comical.
As the crew began to prepare to set off to the Asylum, Susie peered out of the window to observe the San Francisco skyline outside of the cloaked area. Her and everybody else on the dockyard could see outside to the rest of the world, but to anyone of the non-magical variety the area just looked as though it was another patch of sea. Aside from orbing or teleporting, travelling via boat was the only way to reach the Asylum's Alcatraz-like shores. The Asylum itself was located in another dimension, created around the same time as Magic School in order to properly detain the worst of the worst of magical creatures, as well as to help rehabilitate those who still had a shot at being saved. The entrance to said dimension was located in between San Francisco and The Farallon Islands, with yet another handy cloaking spell keeping the boat from being seen by any watchful mortal eyes.
It would be interesting for sure, to where the woman now resided these days. Word had it that despite the downturn in her mood swings, she still refused any kind of treatment. How was she faring, surrounded by just four walls and only having doctors or mental headcases for company? God she needed to get there as soon as possible! All of the questions whirring inside of her head incessantly were driving her insane!
And as though her thoughts had been sensed, the boat began to depart from the dockyard.
Hecate help me! Susie gaped, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat as she stepped off of the boat. She knew the place wouldn't be great, but dear lord... This place looks straight out of the Underworld!
She'd seen illustrations of St Ginerva's before in her historical textbooks that Magic School had had her read back to front, but it was a whole other thing seeing it in person. The foreboding structure was seated on the top of a rocky hill, with a dark concrete clocktower doubling as a watchtower jutting out from the top of the building. The run-down establishment looked more like a school or manor house than a home for lunatics, the grey slated roof blanketing the coarse brown stone that was crumbling away from the lack of care for it over the years. According to her sources a number of underground floors existed below the building which housed the tougher cases, and where no doubt Blaise would be by her lonesome in her solitary cell. Susie had no doubt that once upon a time a time it was a beautiful place to come to, but as she stared at it in that moment not a single thing set her at ease. The place felt wrong, scary, like the effect of having someone such as The Black Heretic under it's roof had caused the effects to travel outwards.
You're the one in control here. She thought determinedly, shivering as a bolt of lightning crackled violently against the dark purple sky of the world she was now in. She turned around, watching anxiously as like Charon the ferryman to the Underworld, the boat began to turn back around and head back to collect another round of visitors. The Asylum's policy was generous with its visitor time, believing that human contact was key to a patient's well being. She would have up to three hours with Blaise should it be necessary, when in which the boat would return to collect its first lot of visitors. Hopefully they'd be chatting like old friends by the time the three hours ran their course. That was if she could even get her to take her seriously, much less agree to a tell-all. These would be old wounds of course, maybe she wouldn't want to touch upon them. She certainly didn't want to with any of her therapists, if her file was anything to go by.
And so she began the climb up the hill.
Though it was perhaps only a five minute walk by Susie's estimate, she couldn't help but notice that despite the large array of groups that made up the party heading up the hill, not one person spoke a word. Suspicion? General paranoia? Susie spared a glance at the side of her. Some of the witches did look a little rough around the edges. There was one group in particular made up of three middle-aged women and two men -most likely their sons- dressed in dark, tattered clothing like any kind of pride in their appearance was beneath them. She narrowed her eyes, gulping as she spotted a small bronze coloured stain on one of the men's wrists.
Never mind.
Thankfully before long they were at the door, being herded inside like sheep by another set of robot guards. Maybe they are robots. Technology is getting pretty advanced. They were led to yet another check-in desk, with their bags thrown through a magic detector in search of any kind of explosives or weapons. Then a full body-scan airport style that made her twitch with anxiety, but she was soon cleared and sent on her way.
But as the other visitors followed the guards to where she presumed the visitor room was, Susie hung back and looked around helplessly for some sort of clue of what she was supposed to do now. Blaise would be located somewhere else from the other patients, but she had no idea where the solitary cells were. Was Susie supposed to wait around for someone? Or ask a guard for directions or something? She felt as though she was a lost little kid again, having lost track of her mom in the supermarket and with no idea where to go or who to turn to. "You're an adult!" She hissed to herself, reprimanding herself for her bout of skittishness.
"You're an adult, you're an adult! Ugh, can anyone help me-"
"Miss Spector?"
Susie swivelled around to find a woman had appeared from behind her. Dressed in the dark blue uniform and coat of the Asylum, the logo of the Asylum's two crossed swords and the sewn title of Warden stared back at her on the woman's breast. Ah. It was the woman from the phone, coming to lead her to her doom. Already sour-faced, the Warden radiated anger and hostility as she patted her greying tied back hair for the pen she'd slotted at the top of her ear. Susie cringed as she scribbled something down on the clipboard she had on hand, as she couldn't help but think that someone having their hair tied up that tightly was bound to cut off their circulation. "Yes! Hi!" She waved, flashing what she hoped was a charming smile. "So good to see you in person Mrs Macready," The woman in question scowled, "I was wondering where I'm supposed to go exactly?"
"I'm supposed to take you down to solitary," she explained, "it's located in the basement."
Ah.
"Lead the way!" Susie offered, injecting more cheer into her voice than she felt. The Warden with Susie following close behind, made her way over to an elevator just down the hall of the reception area. The pair breezed past a set of double doors, before quickly grinding to a halt in front of the elevator. Susie's companion produced a set of silver keys from her coat pocket, taking a minute to fiddle about with them before finally locating the one she was after. A second later the elevator was unlocked, and the Warden pressed the call button. The doors opened at once, revealing a shabby but overall decent car.
The Warden remained silent as they got inside, simply pressing the single button that would take them down to the basement.
"You said she seemed calm." Susie stated, as the elevator whirred to life and began to travel downward. She couldn't help herself. She'd been replaying the woman's words over and over again all night. "Is she not like that usually?"
The Warden shook her head, returning her hands to her pockets. She stared straight ahead, unmoving. Susie thought for a minute that she would simply return to being silent, but much to her surprise she began to elaborate. "She was a big ball of energy when she first came here. Angry one minute, crying the next, always jumping from one extreme to the next. And the mouth on her! God!" She shook her head. "You could threaten to taser her and she'd still give you a verbal dressing down. I did it once, and she just got right back up and continued critiquing my choice of dress."
"She gave people a hard time." Susie noted, with mounting interest.
"I'll say. If one of the other patients so much as looked at her wrong she'd have one of her episodes. Hecate forbid I ever have to be around that woman with her magic." The Warden shook her head, a visible shiver running through her. "They would keep testing her magic, you know? Trying to cure it. They'd put it through all sorts of tests and throw all sorts of potions at it, and yet nothing's worked. I've seen it once or twice, and it's like it's alive! Bitter and squirming and ready to pounce if you give it the chance, just like its owner."
"But then-" Susie prompted.
The woman turned to her, eyes wide in alarm. "A couple of weeks ago, the magic just stops moving in its extraction chamber. It's active and functioning normally, but none of our witches thought much of it. But then I went down to see her last night, and she's as calm as Buddha. She smiled, she listened, didn't talk back... It was eerie."
"You think something's wrong with her."
"I know something's wrong with her! A witch with magic like that-"
The elevator pinged, diverting the attentions of the two women to the doors that slid effortlessly open. "Go on," The Warden nodded, gesturing to the doors with a vague wave of her hand, "The first door on the left is one that goes to her cell. She knows you're coming."
Susie balked. "You're not coming with me?" She frowned, her eyebrows furrowing together. She tiled her head, watching closely as the other woman gripped her keys tightly, whilst simultaneously looking like a trapped wild animal. "Oh jeez. You're that scared of her?" She stared, the Warden's chest rising and falling heavily. "She's in a cage! She doesn't even have her magic! What's she gonna do insult you to death? Pathetic. Truly!"
"You haven't met her!" The Warden snapped. "Go on, go! Go! Someone'll be down to collect you when your time is up."
Oh go burrow back into your hole you fucking wimp.
With a roll of her eyes Susie stormed out of the elevator, briefly hearing the sound of the elevator departing as she travelled down the hall. Take heart. At least you're not as much of a scaredy-cat as she is! She was facing the monster in the dark head-on, and she wouldn't be leaving the St Ginerva's without a fair fight. Before she knew it she was at the first door on the left, stood in front of a ratty wooden thing that didn't convey anything about what it held inside.
Susie's hand hovered over the door handle, holding her breath as she counted to five. Dad thought she was worth something once. Her gut told her that there was more to Blaise Trudeau. The stories her dad had told her about The Charmed Ones and their little progeny had told her as such. Hell, her basic understanding of the human psyche told her as such. So many people, even her own aunts had been so quick to write her off as the evil witch of the story. But what if there was more to it? Susie wanted to know, and not just for the book.
She opened the door, launching herself through it with all the confidence that she could muster.
And what a sight she walked into!
Unwashed grey tile greeted her at once, that spanned the large expanse of room that probably could have doubled as a storage facility. Dirt and dust coated the grey brick walls that rose up around her, an odd culmination of age and disuse that made it's purpose all the more ironic. The room was forgotten and unremarkable, and yet it housed someone who by all accounts was quite the opposite.
And in the middle of the room, sat a glass cube. The size of an average conservatory, the structure stood smack bang in the middle of the room like it was straight out of one of her OCD doodles she would do as a kid. What a funny little cell. She could see what appeared to be the back of a bed and a partition at the back of the cube, blocking off any other view she may have acquired from a distance of the woman she was about to face. She could spot two security cameras that were positioned in both corners on the other side of the room, trained on the cube as they stared unflinchingly at it. It was funny, it not a little unnerving, as Susie realised that the cube was positioned away from the only entrance and exit into the room.
She braced herself. Adrenaline urged her forward, her footsteps echoing as she strolled directly towards the cube and then around it. She travelled anti-clockwise, keeping a fair pace so as not to seem to eager or jittery as she wondered just what she was about to step into. As she neared the corner, she realised with a start that she could hear music coming from inside the cube. Wait... Was that meditation music? Yes! Yes it was!
The first she noticed as she came around to the other side of the cube, was the divan located on the right-hand side. Bubblegum pink and beautifully produced, the bright colour caught Susie's searching eyes at once. Then there was the partition, its length spread out across the width at the back of the cube. Most notable about it was the rainbow coloured face of Marilyn Monroe that was printed on to the cream coloured surface. At the right of the room was a simple fold out bed, nothing spectacular with its white bedspread and small size. Further on was a bedside table, where in which sat a hairbrush and a blue portable radio which was emitting the music she had heard. Sat in front of the table was a tidily arranged collection of various items of clothes and underwear, near to what she supposed was an electrical outlet. They do have some trust in her then. On the left-hand side of the room was a gleaming white bath, toilet and sink, with a batch of cleaning supplies cluttered on the floor. It seemed cleanliness was highly valued in her place. A plump red bean bag sat at the front of the cube, situated next to a neatly stacked pile of books which had a hairdryer sat on top of it. The last item Susie's eyes were drawn to were the obnoxiously neon orange monkey bars located on the ceiling of the cube. The bizarre sight caused her to shake her head in confusion, drawing her eyes downward to the person she had been waiting a long time to meet.
Blaise looked like she didn't have a care in the world.
Susie froze to the spot, eyes taking in the sight of the subject she had fought tooth and nail to see.
Her black hair fell in messy waves around her shoulders, a little longer now since the polaroid picture, but still well kept. She was dressed in black leggings and a fluffy white sweater and was also barefoot, her body formed into the tree position as the music continued to hum happily to her. Her eyes were closed, her face tense with concentration as she focused on keeping her position. She had cheekbones for days, which were poking out as she pouted slightly, wobbling a little as the music grew in intensity.
Suddenly Blaise's eyes flung open, sparkling with childish mischief as Susie jumped in alarm. "Hello Clarice!" She growled in greeting, a happy little giggle escaping her as Susie's hand flew to her chest like an alarmed Southern Belle.
"Ugh." She scowled in distaste, her foot falling to the floor. "I'm turning this shit off." She declared, strolling on over to the radio to turn it off. A second or two later utter silence rang out between them, and for a minute Susie almost wished for the buffer to remain. Now it was just the two of them, with only the glass keeping them apart.
Blaise turned around, her falling over her shoulder like it was something out of a Pantene commercial. She was so effortlessly pretty, that it made Susie's chest ache with longing. Blaise arched a brow in question, so Susie took it as her cue to say hello. "Hi." She squeaked.
"Hi." Blaise replied, unsmiling.
"I'm- Well, Miss Trudeau-"
"Blaise please." She corrected, though not harshly.
"Blaise." Susie quickly corrected herself, shaking off the error. "I'm sure your Warden told you all this, but my name is Susie Spector. I'm a witch who's written an extensive amount of biographies on famous figures within the magical community. Fifteen of my books are bestsellers, and I've established a highly respectable brand as well as a loyal fanbase. The reason that I'm here today is that I'd quite like to write my next book about you." She exhaled, breathing rather heavily as let her heart rate return to normal. "I can provide copies of my previous work to assure you of the quality, as well as answer any questions you may have on the process." She tucked a strand of brown hair that had fallen out of her waterfall braid. She glanced up at the witch, finding her eyes narrowed and her arms folded as she stared unflinchingly at her. God it was intense. Susie couldn't bring herself to look away. It was as though she was pulling back every one of her outer layers, clawing back every scrap of protection and privacy mercilessly as she sought to peer inside of her head.
"That is if you agree." She quickly added, relieved as Blaise finally looked away from her. "No pressure."
"Why me?"
Susie blinked in confusion.
Blaise shrugged, striding on over to the beanbag and flopping down carelessly on to it. It crunched loudly as she made herself comfortable, the picture of normalcy as Blaise went on. "You say you write books on people in the magical community? Why not go for more easy pickings, like a dead upper-level demon, or some goody-two-shoes Glinda? Susie, is it? Well Suz, why did you go to all this trouble for little old me? Seems kinda weird."
"Because-" Susie racked her brain for something to say, but only a nervous laugh found its way out of her mouth. Blaise's lips creased slightly. "Well you're you!" Susie gestured excitedly to her, unable to keep herself from smiling. "No witch in the history of The Warren Family Line has strayed from the path to the extent you have! The family that's held as the very paragon of good magic, and then there's you. A dark magic user, a murderer, a necromancer by eighteen, and the one person the Halliwells are truly afraid of yet are unable to vanquish. Who wouldn't wanna read a book about you? You've got enough drama in your life for twenty soap operas!"
"True." Blaise acknowledged with a bow of her head, no emotion portrayed in her voice as she continued to stare at Susie. "But what caught your interest in me?"
"I have my reasons."
A big Cheshire Cat-like grin crept on to Blaise's face at those words, stretching from corner to corner until she bared her teeth with what could only be described as malicious glee. She threw her head back and laughed, clutching her chest as though it was just about the funniest thing she had ever head. Susie shifted uncomfortably as she carried on for about a minute, thrown off momentarily by the strange action before she finally returned back to earth.
"Oh wow!" She laughed, like a breathless kid at a fairground. "You've got tenacity!" She cried, her face alight with joy as though it were a glowing lantern. When she allowed emotion on to that perfectly neutral face of hers, Susie could see how truly expressive she was. Confusion moulded carefully on to her face as it slowly crept to the surface, calm came straight from her eyes and sank deep down into her being, and her almost maniacal amusement travelled straight from her smile and jolted the rest of her face and body to life. So the rumours about her being a sociopath or possibly a psychopath weren't true. Susie observed, as Blaise parked her chin on her hand and watched her with that pleased cat-like smile still planted firmly on her face. She felt things and had no scruples about showing as such.
"Would you want to do it?" Susie pressed.
Blaise waved her free hand vaguely. "What would it entail exactly? No vague shit please, I want all of the specifics."
Susie exhaled with barely concealed relief. Now this was something she could work with. "It would be a chronological re-telling of your whole life. From your childhood spent at Halliwell Manor, that first year when your mother and aunts became witches, your father-"
The smile instantly dropped from Blaise's face, her body going rigid. Susie stalled, sensing that she had greatly overstepped. "We don't talk about my father. Or my mother for that matter." She informed her, cold and unmoving. "If I don't want to talk about something, we move on, period. Got it?" Susie nodded, her sharp tone pressing down on her nerves. There was no room for argument there. "Go on." She nodded.
"Your individual relationships with your aunts-"
"Oh they're a doozy." She snorted, a smirk creeping on to her features.
"-the arrival of your aunt Paige Matthews to the family, the tumultuous times following the death of Cole Turner and the births of your cousins Wyatt and Christopher Halliwell. Would you be willing to discuss your time in the Underworld? When you and Wyatt were taken there by the Elder Gideon?" She paused, letting the question hang between them. A look of deep contemplation fell over Blaise, her face perfectly schooled into a neutral expression that failed to betray which way she would eventually sway on the pendulum. However a second later much to Susie's surprise, she received a short nod in response. "You will?"
"I will," she confirmed, holding up her hand to observe the quality of her nails as she pointedly avoided looking at Susie, "I've never told anyone what happened from my point of view, but-" She met Susie's gaze. "Well I might as well now, might I?" She sighed deeply, tired and weary as she gestured vaguely to the cube that surrounded her. "The Elders can't do shit to me now." She grabbed a nearby nail file from the floor, and proceeded to scrape aggressively at her nails. "I look like I've grown talons overnight." She muttered irritably, more to herself than Susie. "Only trouble with being in this place is that they don't let you use any scissors. Fucking quacks!"
"Then of course there would be your transition to dark magic, the Black Tuesday Event, and-"
"How I ended up in this dump." Blaise supplied, pausing mid-file. "Seems like you've got this thing all planned out."
"I have. I want this to be your words though Miss-" She checked herself, cringing at her mishap. "Blaise." She tasted the name on her tongue, and found that she liked it quite a bit. She savoured the sweet sound, appreciating the brief but fulfilling noise. Susie had an affinity for names. Hers was a sweet name for a not so sweet girl, lovingly selected by a mother years ago who never could have foreseen what she would eventually turn into. When someone heard that name they thought of sugar and spice, a girl who stuck flowers in her hair and watched Bewitched and noir movies with her aunties. Not an unhinged necromancer who was still being haunted by years long since gone. "Aside from the various quotes I collected from various members of the magical community for the opening chapter, these would be your words, I would just be translating them to the page. Completely uncensored and unedited, the good, the bad, the ugly, I wanna know it all. I think- No, I know there's more to the story then what people say about you, and I think people should know what that is. Don't you want them to know?"
"Susie?"
"Hmph?"
"Why the hell do you care so much?"
Susie held out her hands in surrender. "Because I know what it's like, to have people write you off when things go south in your life. People aren't entirely good or bad. Contrary to the belief of your aunts, the magical and mortal world operate in shades of grey. Some more than others, but it's an undeniable fact. I'd very much like to take that fact and shove it in all of their faces. You can't hide from the truth when I'm selling it."
Blaise smiled once more, an air of detachment surrounding her as her mind began to shift and sort through all of the information that had been handed to her. It was a little eerie to Susie how she could go from expressing so much to so little within minutes. It was like her whole body was one blank canvas, just waiting for the right form of behaviour to be painted on. Nothing could ever get to her. Susie saw, as she titled her head upwards whilst continuing to think. You could throw insult after insult at her. Every bad word under the sun, and it would just bounce off of her like a rubber ball on a pane of glass.
"Alright," Blaise finally spoke, straightening up. She placed her file on her stack of books, and held out her hand in offering. "We can work out the rest of the kinks later, you've got yourself a deal. Start now." She pointed to the bag resting on Susie's shoulder. "You have what you need?"
"Yes!" Susie nodded, frantically opening her bag in search of her equipment. The news was barely even registering for her, even as she pulled out her notebook, pen and her phone to record her. She'd agreed! Blaise Trudeau was actually going to talk to her about her life! It took all of her self-control not to dance giddily at this fact. She sat herself down on the floor in front of Blaise, pulling up the voice recorder app and setting her notebook and pen in front of her. She pulled off her bag and set it to the side of her, before finally turning her attentions back to Blaise. "Ready when you are." She prompted with a nod, as Blaise sat back in her seat and crossed her legs.
"Where do you want me to start?"
"1998, when your aunt Phoebe returned to San Francisco."