Witch's Bell Book One

by Odette C. Bell

  Chapter 13

  Ebony’s heart began to pound, but not in the usual way. Usually when you were scared or startled by a sudden noise, your heart might rattle in your chest or thump in your ears. Now it pulsed like a nuclear core ready to blow.

  The footsteps continued behind her, getting louder and heavier by the second.

  A hand reached out of the darkness, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her with a powerful wrench.

  Out of the darkness a fist moved toward her head, angling down from the arm of an awful, gruff, broken face. The shadows of the barely lit lane-way coalesced under his eyes, giving them the depth of caves.

  She ducked back, body moving on its own, lips splitting open to let out a sharp gasp.

  She missed the fist, but barely.

  The man came at her again, not letting up either his speed or the ferocity of his attack.

  Ebony wasn’t thinking – she couldn’t think – which some part of her knew was for the best.

  No thoughts meant no restrictions, and no restrictions meant pure action.

  He tried to grab for her, lunging forward with his hands outstretched.

  She backed up, twisting her bag off her arm and trying to wield it like a bat.

  She struck the man with her bag, pivoting on her foot to push maximum force into the move – like a squire pretending to be a knight in battle.

  But the bag just impacted the giant man as if it were no more forceful than a kitten batting someone’s face with a soft feather paw.

  Ebony ducked under another grab, tank-rolling to the side.

  What did this guy want?

  She shivered at the possibilities.

  The man roared – the first noise he’d made.

  He reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out a switch blade.

  Click.

  He flicked it open, expression a mixture of pure aggravation and pure primal anticipation.

  Ebony ducked back. Despite her training, she was too small to do anything to this man. Her well-placed blow had been like a drop of rain trying to fell a mountain – impossible.

  He lunged at her, quicker than his build should allow.

  She twisted, turning her back to him as he grabbed for her arms. She darted forward, falling to the ground but managing to roll forward to escape another grasp from the deadly, silent giant.

  Just as she stood up, deciding to make a dash for it, the man managed to get a hold of her. One of his massive hands latched onto the ends of her ponytail, like a climber grabbing a safety rope. He pulled her backward with a yank, viciously grabbing her bag and pulling it from her grip.

  As his form cast her into cold shadow, and Ebony’s heart sank into a pit of no return, she made out the sound of another set of footsteps. They were light, but solid, and they were heading toward them faster than a cheetah over the savannah.

  Something knocked into the man, rugby tackling him and pushing him onto the ground with a solid grunt. The man’s knife spiraled out of his grip and into the darkness.

  Ebony scuttled backward, like a crab before a crashing wave, pulling herself to her feet and resting her back against a cold brick wall.

  From the glint of the moon barely making it through the cracks between the buildings, she saw her knight in shining armor.

  “Nate!” she screamed.

  There he was, her once annoying Detective Right, engaged in an epic wrestle with her attacker.

  She pushed off the wall, wanting to do something, wanting to help him, wanting to reach down and snap off these damn bracelets so she could—

  The man managed to stand, driving a powerful punch into Nate’s side. But the detective didn’t blink. He just twisted to the left, lessening the power of the punch and replying with one of his own.

  For the first time in her life, Ebony stood at the sidelines, watching as the action happened elsewhere. One of the lessons for young witches was to learn that it was always best to be involved – it was only from within a situation that you could change it.

  Here she was, the wind knocked out of her, her scalp tingling with a powerful pain from her hair being tugged, and her mind cold with dread. She wasn’t involved, and there was nothing she could do… but watch.

  Nate’s punch connected with the man’s jaw, pushing him back, but not enough to bring him down. While Nate was large and knew how to handle himself, her attacker was titanic. He was some kind of gladiator – impossibly strong, relentless, and viciously violent.

  The man brought a knee up, trying to connect with Nate’s ribcage to knock the fight right out of him and possibly his teeth too. Nate ducked to the side, trying to grab the man’s leg to pull him off balance.

  It didn’t work, but Nate didn’t get hurt either. The man was simply too relentless, too concentrated on his task – whatever that was.

  Ebony ducked forward, picking up her bag, which had somehow tumbled out of the man’s hands as Nate had tackled him. She started to scream, finally finding her voice. “Someone help!” she screeched. “Help!” she repeated over and over again.

  Her screams sounded weak for some reason, muffled, as if someone had thrown a blanket over this whole lane-way, ensuring the grunts and wretched screams wouldn’t make it out into the streets beyond.

  She began to get an awful, apprehensive feeling in her gut. Was this man magical? Was that why her screams wouldn’t carry? Was that why he seemed to have the strength of ten men? Was that why the relentless glint in his eye glowed like a forever-burning fire?

  If that was the case, she and Nate were in rather a lot of trouble. Without magic, how were they going to bring him down?

  Ebony put a hand on one of her bracelets, trying to pull it off with all her might. She dug her fingers in, trying to wrench herself free from her magical imprisonment. But her nails just scratched into her own skin, drawing blood from her frantic efforts.

  She wanted to scream out Nate’s name again, but she didn’t want to distract him.

  What was she supposed to do?

  Unbidden, her father’s words came to mind, “The winner is always the one who can hold their concentration.” Making the loser the one who allowed themselves to be distracted. And while her father’s words didn’t constitute a universal law – with people managing to get lucky all the time – trying to distract the man seemed to be Ebony’s only hope.

  She ducked down, tipping her bag out before her as she desperately searched through the contents for something she could use.

  Anything. Anything at all.

  She looked up to see the man land a glancing blow to Nate’s jaw, the detective’s head snapping to the side, his eyes blinking from the pain. But he kept on fighting, equally as relentless and determined as Ebony’s attacker.

  Her top teeth bit so hard into her bottom lip, it felt as if she’d bite her lip right off. She searched through the contents of her bag, discarding her wallet, tissues, and various paraphernalia to the side. Finally, she clutched her hand around a small vial of perfume. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had.

  She pushed to her feet, the small bottle clutched tightly in one hand.

  She had aim, she told herself, excellent aim. Her father had always told her that her success on the shooting range came from her stellar aim, not from the magic within. She hoped like Heaven her father was right.

  As Nate tried to launch himself into the man again, attempting to tackle him to the ground, probably trying to keep his wild punches more contained – Ebony saw her opportunity.

  As the man’s face descended, his usually titanic height cut in half as Nate powered into his side, she ducked forward. She quickly, elegantly, almost expertly, grabbed the lid off the perfume and threw the lot into the man’s face – right into his wide, rage-filled eyes.

  He screamed in agony, clutching his meaty hands over his face, finally allowing Nate to knock him off his feet.

  Ebony swallowed hard, realizing that if the man truly was magical in some way, then the alcohol would have been
a blow to him. And if he wasn’t magical, well, it would still sting a treat. Alcohol was used in a lot of magical spells to dilute them. If you had a powerful herb concoction, but didn’t want to burn someone’s head off from all the concentrated magic, you’d dilute it in a solution of alcohol. Water wouldn’t work. Water had exceedingly special magical qualities, being one of the necessities of life. But alcohol – alcohol was a known diluter.

  Nate tried to land a blow to the side of the man’s head. Before he could, something started to happen.

  The air around them seemed to pinch in a little, as if a giant mouth was trying to suck in all the space.

  There was a crackle, as if an enormous thunderstorm was building above them.

  All signs of magic, she realized detachedly. She couldn’t sense the stuff, but she still knew all the symptoms of it. To someone who didn’t have her magical past, it might seem as if their surroundings were growing harsher, more erratic, or their minds were frazzled with the adrenaline of the situation. But Ebony knew what was going on.

  Something was being called back.

  She streaked forward, grabbing Nate’s arm just as he tried to get the man into a head lock. She pulled him. “Nate,” her voice was desperate, “Get back!”

  He was surprised by her intervention, but allowed himself to be pulled backward. Just as he did, the pinching around them grew thicker. She could feel it play against her skin as if she were being dragged through the air at the back of a plane – rushing, pulling, ripping.

  The pinching congregated on the man, making the space around him seem more concentrated. He suddenly had more form, more space, more shape, more color. But in an instant, he disappeared completely.

  For several seconds, Ebony and Nate stood there, Nate slack-jawed and Ebony shaking.

  The ordinary sky filled in above them. The suffocating blanket that had covered the lane-way lifted to reveal the real world.

  Her hand was still on Nate’s arm, her body still shaking from the shock.

  Nate put his own hand over hers, gently pulling it from his arm, but still holding onto it. “Are you okay?”

  No, she wasn’t. She’d just been attacked by magic when she was as defenseless as a newborn baby. She wasn’t okay at all.

  “I’m going to call the police,” he said quickly, reaching a hand into his pocket.

  “We are the police,” she replied bitterly, trying desperately not to cry.

  Just as the situation threatened to overwhelm her, her attention was drawn toward Nate’s hand. It was warm, strong, and very real.

  As Nate reached into his pocket, Ebony looked up quickly. “Hold on, we can’t wait here—”

  “You mean that guy is going to come back?” Nate stiffened.

  “I don’t know. We have to get somewhere safe though. I don’t know where that guy came from. But we didn’t beat him. He was just called back from whence he’d come.”

  “My car’s out by your shop. I’ll take us to the station.” Nate, hand still over Ebony’s, began to pull her forward.

  She found herself running with him, her steps falling perfectly into sync with his. “No, we don’t have the time. That thing could easily come back while we’re driving or pop right up in the car—”

  “I’ll call for backup immediately—”

  Both of them burst out of the lane-way, the much-needed light of the moon and the street lamps enveloping Ebony in a comforting glow. From the desperate darkness and shadows of the lane-way, the street seemed like a palace of refuge. “We’ve got to go to Harry’s!” she realized, chiding herself for not thinking of it sooner.

  “Harry’s?” Nate kept hold over her hand, even though Ebony was having no trouble keeping up.

  “The store is very powerful. I don’t have any magic, but Harry does. No matter who sent that thing, they’ll think twice about trying to break into a possessed store.”

  Nate didn’t question, though the thought of taking refuge in a store that had already tried to kill him twice obviously didn’t sit well with him.

  It took them less than a minute to run across the street and make it to the outside of Harry’s Second-Hand Bookstore. Nate finally took his hand off Ebony’s and walked toward the boot of his car.

  “We have to go inside, quickly,” her voice was desperate as she went for her keys. But she realized with a broken, crestfallen feeling that all her belongings were still strewn over the lane-way. She took a sharp breath as if someone had just stabbed her from the side. “My keys – I left them back there.”

  Nate didn’t reply, just hauled open his boot and pulled at the locked gun-case in the back. “I’ll go get them,” he said gruffly, snatching the gun and holster from his case and fixing them around his hips with quick, practiced ease.

  Ebony shook her head. She didn’t want Nate going back there alone.

  Just as she began to freak out completely, the door behind her opened.

  Harry let them in.

  Nate’s eyes narrowed, but she rushed inside immediately, beckoning him in with quick flicks of her hand.

  “Oh, Harry,” she said, her voice high and strained, “Thank you.”

  Nate didn’t rush in. “You can’t just leave your bag back there.” He brushed his nose, one hand perpetually hovering near his holster. “I’ll go back to get it.”

  “Nate! Get inside! It’s not worth it! It’s just a bag!”

  “That guy wanted your bag, Ebony. We can’t leave it back there.” With that, he turned and ran back down the street.

  “Nate!” she screamed after him, launching toward the door, trying to follow him and drag him back before he got himself killed.

  But Harry wouldn’t let her. He closed the door with a bang, and no matter how hard she tugged on the handle, it wouldn’t budge.

  “Let me out, Harry!”

  The door just locked itself.

  “Harry! Harry!”

  No matter how much she screamed, banged, or sobbed, Harry wasn’t going to do a damn thing. His will was as strong as iron, and his grip on his store was doubly so.

  She sank to the floor, the situation banking around her like sand piling down from the top of an hourglass.

  She could hear her rasping breath, feel the shaking in her chest, and see the flush in her hands and arms.

  Though her breath slowed, her mind didn’t. She tried to pray as hard as she could that Nate would get back here okay, that whatever creature had attacked her wouldn’t come back.

  Finally, finally, she heard footsteps outside, and she ran back toward the door just in time to hear the key grind into the lock and the door open.

  Though Harry hadn’t automatically opened the door for Nate, it didn’t matter – he had the key. And magical store or not, there was a universal law that if the right key was put into the right lock, said lock would open.

  “Nate!” For some reason she was bouncing up and down on her toes.

  He handed her the bag.

  She took it, quickly dumping it on the ground. She tried to fight the urge to leap forward and hug him. Though she almost hated the guy, she couldn’t think of anything else to do right now.

  She wanted to hug him, feel his arms close in around her….

  Instead, she just kept bouncing from foot-to-foot.

  “Are you okay?” he asked again, clearly and slowly.

  She shook her head.

  “What kind of magic was that?” he asked, his voice as clear and calm as a summer stream and just as inviting to jump into.

  “It was strong,” she said, skin itching from the very thought of it, “Really strong.”

  He crossed his arms. “I’ve called for backup. They’ll be here soon.”

  She nodded. That magic had been proper summoning magic. No wonder Ebony hadn’t been able to slow the man down with her trained self-defense. But Nate… he’d managed to hold his own. How? Sheer determination? Sheer will? Or something else?

  “You sure you’ll be safe here?” Nate took a brief look aro
und the store.

  She nodded. “Harry was a very powerful wizard in his day. He’s possessed the whole store too – every light-fitting, every floorboard, every book. He’s been here for years, and the longer he stays, the more entrenched he gets. Taking him on would be like taking on a squadron of wizards. No matter where you stood, or where you turned, he’d be all around you, underneath you, and over you.”

  “So you’re safe?” Nate simply repeated the question, obviously waiting for only a single answer.

  “Yes.”

  Nate sighed very heavily. “Wow, what a day.”

  Ebony tried to smile, but her expression was set into a worried frown. None of this made any sense. Why would she have been attacked by another magical creature? And why was it after her bag?

  Magical muggings were rare, very rare. Occasionally a wizard might throw a stocking over his face and stalk a lesser magical creature to snatch its Book of Spells, or some such. But it was always a risk. Witches and wizards were regulated by their own governing bodies. If a witch deliberately and violently tried to steal something from another witch, the Coven would intervene. The same with the wizards. So who, or what, had attacked Ebony? And why run the risk of being caught and punished?

  Ebony was still a witch, technically, so this constituted a crime of a magical creature against a magical creature.

  “Don’t think about it too hard.” Nate walked over to her, picking up her arm and looking at a deep scratch along the skin. “This stuff never makes sense to begin with.”

  She blinked, his touch distracting yet more comforting than a room full of cushions and blankets.

  “You got a first-aid kit in this place? Because I’ve got one in the car—”

  “No,” she snapped, her voice about as strong as it had ever been, magic or not. “You’re not going back out there.”

  His expression was almost amused.

  “I have some healing herbs and some bandages upstairs.”

  “Okay then. Do you have painkillers?” he asked, hand flexing his jaw from side-to-side, his eyes crinkling with the pain. “And ice?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” She turned from him to go upstairs, but once again, he followed right behind her. He was like a loyal dog, or a bodyguard.

  But would Harry see it that way?

  “Maybe you should stay down here.” She turned to him at the base of the stairs as she unhooked the chain from one of the banisters.

  “Nope, today’s been too strange. Plus, knowing your luck this week, you’ll probably drop a jar all over your feet and faint from the blood loss.”

  She rolled her eyes visibly. But she wasn’t annoyed by his words, even though they were cheeky. She was thankful for the warmth they brought to the situation.

  Just as Nate put his foot on the first step, intending to follow right behind Ebony every step of the way, Harry put his foot down, so to speak.

  A book shot off the top of the banister above, even though she would never leave one in such a dangerous position. It headed straight toward Nate.

  Ebony saw it before Nate did. She twisted on her step and tried to reach for it. She managed to catch it with a gruff, “Oooppph,” but overbalanced, careening toward Nate like a felled tree heading for the ground.

  He caught her, balance perfect. He didn’t teeter backward. The force of another human knocking into him didn’t seem to bother him at all. He just opened his arms like a sail opening to the wind, and caught Ebony before she could slam into the stairs.

  He arrested her. Though the notion was peculiarly ironic considering he was a detective, it was the only way her suddenly still mind could describe it. Her anxieties, worries, and fears stopped all at once. The sudden shock of catching the book and falling off balance stopped as well. Her problems with adjusting to a month without magic stopped. Her musings about what kind of magic was after her and who was the perpetrator stopped.

  Everything stopped as Ebony was arrested – everything but her heart. Its beat was strong and grounding.

  Something felt right, deeply right. As if a long, powerfully-important, lost memory finally resurfaced.

  Then the arresting moment stopped, and she found her own feet. She was still standing close to him, her feet positioned by his on the same step. She found herself looking into his face from such a close distance, it afforded a perspective she’d never enjoyed. No longer could she sum him up by his aggravatingly good looks, his annoyingly righteous expression, and the purely irritating look of disdain that would draw over his face each time he muttered a “right.”

  She was looking at him now in the way you might look at the Earth from its surface, as opposed to looking at it from space. The perspective showed the grooves in his skin, the close shave of his chin, the slight slick of sweat against his brow, and the keen look in his eyes.

  For a witch who was meant to watch, Ebony was starting to realize she was just learning how to truly see.

  Just as she pulled up a hand, intending to reach out and touch that solid jaw, he reached a hand out to her – stroking the side of her cheek with the tips of his fingers.

  But then she heard the bell tinkle from the front door.

  “Ebony!” Her father shouted from the front door, his voice brimming with that familiar grouchy but welcome strength.

  Nate stood back, turning toward the sound – leaving her standing there alone.

  Heart in her mouth, she responded. “Uh, Dad?”

  She could hear him marching toward her.

  “I rang your father,” Ben’s voice filtered through from the front of the shop.

  Calling her dad was like fishing with gelignite. He’d try and mobilize the force to take the whole magical world on – until he found and arrested whoever had attacked his daughter.

  Only problem was, he was retired. Though he wouldn’t see that as too much of a hindrance.

  “And I rang your mother,” her father said, bursting out from around the side of a bookshelf and rushing over to her.

  He ignored Nate, who had shuffled further away from Ebony, and walked toward his daughter shaking his head. “This type of stuff would never have happened in my day.” He sniffed. “Summoning in the streets… we would have—”

  “Acted according to the Pact,” a clear voice said from behind Ebony.

  Ebony turned slowly, like a pig on a spit, to see her mother standing on the stairs above her. How or when she’d gotten there, Ebony had no idea. Avery Bell was a witch of the Coven. She had more magic and more mystery than Ebony dared to imagine.

  Her mother had her head cocked to one side, a knowing look in her eye. Was that even a small smile growing on her lips as she flicked her gaze from Ebony to Nate?

  Ebony, despite herself, blushed. Then she remembered the crux of the situation. She’d just been magically mugged by a summoned creature, probably brought into existence by incredibly strong evil. Even if Ebony hadn’t been currently magic-less, this would still have been an issue for investigation.

  Still, why was her mother here? Why now? What, had she finally felt a little guilty that she’d overreacted and sentenced Ebony to a punishment she didn’t deserve?

  Or was she here on behalf of the Coven – here to get all the facts from Ebony in case the being who’d attacked her had been summoned by a witch. Even then, Ebony assured herself, her mother would find some way of blaming it all on Ebony.

  If Nate hadn’t appeared, who knows what would have happened to her?

  Her face became hot with sudden anger. She’d had no power to defend herself! Not because she was inherently weak, but because other people had snatched it from her.

  “Is there something you want to say to me, my little witch?” her mother asked. “Or are you going to keep it bottled inside?”