Chapter 15
Ebony lay on the couch, snuggled under a patchwork quilt as she stared up at the ceiling above. It was the early morning, and slices of sunlight were filtering in between the slats in the blinds, slicing up the room with bars of illumination.
True to her word, she’d stayed in the shop last night. In fact, she’d be staying in the shop until this whole mess was sorted. She’d always had this beautiful old lounge on the upper level, upholstered with a lovely, soft, rich-patterned fabric. It was old, but had been worn-in until its cushions and back were as soft as feathers. She’d managed to find a quilt or two in the back room, leftovers from a midnight winter’s séance. And she’d rustled up some pillows from downstairs.
Really, it was quite comfortable.
And safe, very safe.
It had been a lusciously quiet night. Even though Harry’s store was right on a main road, no noise made it through his thick old walls. Just the pleasant sounds of birds twittering, or the wind rustling through the trees outside. No traffic, no creepy creaking from the iron roof above, no rats scratching on the walls – no unsettling city sounds.
It half felt that Ebony and her store had somehow been transported into the peaceful countryside somewhere, with nothing but pleasant pastures and wise old oaks to keep them company.
She sighed as she kept on staring up at the ceiling. Ordinarily, as a witch, she would never have slept upstairs with all these magical books. They would have given her frightful nightmares, or simply kept her awake with all their crackling and buzzing – like trying to sleep inside an electrical power substation.
It didn’t matter to her now. In her current state, all Ebony was aware of was the comfortable, warm couch, and the peaceful silence.
All her problems were far away, somewhat intangible, as if she were viewing them through a smokescreen.
Finally, she extricated herself from the covers, throwing them off with a sigh and jumping off the couch.
Someone was meant to come pick her up today to take her to the police station. While Harry’s was safe for her right now, so was the station. With the amount of magical defenses built into that place, the Devil himself would think twice about taking it on without at least a couple of hexing rocket-launchers.
She headed downstairs.
There was a knock on the door, and she glanced up at the clock to see that it was indeed eight o’clock already.
“Come in,” she called, hoping Harry would be polite enough to let the person in. It would be one of three people: her father, Ben, or Nate. She’d lost track of the conversation last night.
As she stood, she realized she looked like a slob. While her father wouldn’t notice and Ben would just shake his head, Nate would….
She searched around. Did she have any clothes in this damn place? While she could run home and try to find something nice, sleek, and sassy, it was a risk she couldn’t afford.
She could go out the back and get one of her ceremonial gowns, but it might look like a bit much.
The bell tinkled and the person, whoever they were, walked in.
Crap! It better not be Nate—
“I brought you some clothes,” someone said from behind her.
Ebony stopped freaking out with all the speed of a bullet train hitting a mountain.
She turned to see her mother.
Avery’s face was strangely controlled. Her eyes weren’t glinting gold, and her hair wasn’t whistling around her like blossoms on the wind.
Ebony swallowed. Of all the people who could have come—
“You weren’t expecting me, where you?” Avery had two bony hands clutched over a large, painted-silk bag.
Ebony shook her head.
“Really,” Avery took a breath, “Who else could it be? You think either Ben or your father could protect you from a proper magical attack? While your father would certainly put up a good fight, I’d rather he not stress his joints.”
Ebony hadn’t thought, had she? It wasn’t as if having a detective with a gun was going to be any deterrent to a proper magical onslaught. You could shoot at the apparition, but that would only make it angry.
Still, her mother….
“And as for that other one, your little chevalier, well,” Avery seemed to roll the words around in her mouth, as if savoring the taste. “While it seems there might be nothing he can’t do, I’d rather do this one myself.”
Ebony nodded, staring down at her feet for some reason.
Ebony hadn’t ever had a particularly bad relationship with her mother. While the whole no-magic punishment thing had certainly been a blow, there hadn’t been too many witchy domestics in the past. For the most of it, both of them went their separate ways. Avery was a big believer in a witch finding her own feet, on her own ground, in her own time.
Avery handed the bag over to Ebony, a crackle of electricity escaping along her skin.
Ebony peeked inside, her face lighting up. It wasn’t a rubber-tubing top, it wasn’t happy Christmas slacks, it wasn’t a paint-accident top from the ‘80s. Nope. Inside was a gorgeous, flaring, white skirt. It had delicate cherry blossoms embroidered along the hem and light netting to give it a touch of volume. There was a soft, cream, silk blouse as well. It had slight ruffles, dips, and twists – but looked as elegant as anything you’d find in the pages of a vintage Vogue. There was a pair of sweet high-heels, too, in a soft lavender with white trimming.
Ebony couldn’t help but smile.
“I figured you wouldn’t mind looking good.” Avery kept her straight, elegant pose, her mouth softer than usual – less drawn and formal.
Ebony clapped her hands. Finally, finally, she could walk into the police station and not care that she might look like the patched remnants from a costume train-wreck.
“Time to go.” Her mother dipped her head to one side.
Ebony nodded. “I’ll just go change.”
Her mood shifted the instant she put on her new clothes. She ran a hand along the soft fabric of her top, drinking in its quality. She didn’t have a mirror in Harry’s shop, so she was using the reflection off one of the back windows to check herself out. Even though her reflection was blurred and pinched by the old, warped glass – it didn’t matter.
“You have a long day ahead of you, little witch,” her mother called out. “Come on out and face it.”
Ebony, though having not entirely forgiven her mother yet, still smiled as she walked out. There was something about the gift of wondrous clothes, especially at a time when Ebony felt her most vulnerable and frumpy, that was the greatest peace-offering a girl could get.
Her mother winked and smiled. “Beautiful.”
Ebony patted down her skirt in reply and resisted the urge to do a twirl. It was odd, but the only thing that popped into her head was Nate. She smiled to herself. “How are we going to travel?”
“Why my dear, we’re going to walk,” Avery clasped her hands in front of herself in her usual careful, proper manner.
“Walk?” Ebony repeated, lips jutting open. “But you’re a Coven witch. Don’t you think the bin-men are going to get a little shocked when your hair starts turning blue and crackling?”
“I will control myself. It is a nice day. And I haven’t simply walked for…” Avery’s pupils shifted, finally returning to their original blue-gray, “Years.” She looked back up at her daughter, expression unreadable.
Was this a peace offering? The clothes, the offer to walk Ebony to the police station? Was Avery saying sorry without actually going through the formality of using the word?
Or would she start haranguing Ebony the moment they got through the door? Would she have to put up with 45 minutes of “you don’t know what you want to do with your life, and now terrible magical creatures are after your soul?”
“… Okay, let’s go.” Ebony headed toward the door.
Her walk with her mother was… pleasant. She wasn’t worried. You would have to be a ballsy or totally crazy magical fiend to wa
nt to take on a Coven witch. Nor did her mother use the opportunity to bat her ears about not finding greater purpose in life. In fact, the sun shone, the scent of brewing coffee and baking bread filling the air without a cloud on the horizon.
“So, little witch, tell me more about the mysterious Detective Nate.”
Ebony’s stomach kicked. “What about him?”
“Something very peculiar, I think. He has an unusual presence and an unusual will.”
Ebony chuckled. “He’s like a dog after a bone. He doesn’t let up, ever. And he asks questions all the time, he just doesn’t stop. And he begins every single statement with a dry ‘right.’ It’s so infuriating.” Ebony found herself suddenly talking non-stop, as if Avery had popped a water balloon with a pin.
“Indeed.”
“And he always seems to be at the right place at the right time.” Ebony scratched her neck.
“Go on,” Avery prompted quietly.
“I don’t know… the first second I saw him, I thought he was just annoying. Someone who was so wound up by the rules, that he’d just burst if he found someone flaunting them.” Ebony kept scratching at her neck.
“I see. And now what do you think of him?”
Ebony ran her teeth over her lip. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s just so different. He’s not bothered by magic at all, not by anything really. I used to think I could wind him up and tease him, but now I realize he was always the one playing me.”
“And? What do you mean? How is he different?” Avery’s pace slowed, even though the police station was now in sight.
Ebony shrugged. “I don’t get a bad feeling about him, not at all, I just—”
“Want to know more.” Her mother smiled carefully. “Well, he is very curious… very curious indeed. So, tell me, do you like him?”
Ebony started to realize this was no normal itch. She stopped suddenly, turning to her mother, her face steely. “You didn’t,” she admonished harshly, “You didn’t cast a speaking-hex on me, did you?”
Avery cocked an eyebrow. “It is always a mother’s prerogative to know what her daughter is thinking.”
“Mum!” Ebony protested. “You can’t do that!”
Avery fobbed her off with a wave, but then her expression turned serious. “I am still worried for you, little witch. Do not forget that. And I will do everything in my power to find out who is after you, even if that requires hexing my own daughter – the very creature I am trying to save.”
Ebony took a breath, ready for another fight.
But then… she just let it go. She didn’t want this – she didn’t want to keep fighting with her mother. It didn’t make Ebony feel good. In fact, it made her itch with frustration and deep dissatisfaction. She sighed. “Please don’t do it again,” she managed.
Avery dipped her head elegantly. “As you wish. Though, as mother to daughter, let me offer you the following advice: while you’re investigating the Grimshores, keep an eye out for Mr Nathan Wall. I think you’ll find that would be,” she looked to the side and smiled, “A rewarding search.”
Ebony sucked at her teeth and shook her head. She got the innuendo and didn’t appreciate it much.
They finally arrived at the front doors of the station. “Well, here I am. I suppose you’ll be picking me up tonight then?”
Her mother nodded.
“I feel like I’m in primary school.” Ebony sighed.
“In which case, I will be sure to pack you a snack for the return journey. Chopped fruit and a muesli bar.”
“Good bye, mother,” Ebony said sarcastically, but still offered a friendly wave as she walked up the steps and through the front doors.
When she turned back, not surprisingly, her mother was gone.
…
When Ebony finally marched up to her desk, she was ready to crack the lid open on this thing. She wasn’t ready, however, for the sight of Nate sitting in her chair, poring over her files and using her notebook and pen.
He looked up and smiled.
She found her nostrils flaring, for some odd reason. She opened her mouth, not completely clear about what she should say.
“I’ve been here since five o’clock this morning.” He cracked his neck from side to side. “Which is lucky, because there’s a lot to go through here.”
Ebony mumbled a yes.
He was the last thing she’d expected to see. She didn’t know why. Surely a walrus-circus sprawled between the files would have been less likely.
He looked at her evenly. “You’re annoyed that I’m in your chair, aren’t you?”
She hiccupped with laughter. “Yes,” she said squarely. “That’s my chair.”
“Well,” he shrugged, not moving, “I got here first. And I think you’ll find that it is the department’s chair.” He winked.
“Well I suppose I’ll sit on the floor then.” She looked around, trying to make a show of things, but managed to catch sight of Nate’s gaze lingering on her new clothes.
“Or you could get a chair, it’s up to you. But once you’ve stopped worrying about furniture restrictions, there’s some stuff you should know.” Nate, it seemed, had snapped back to his in-charge, in-control, and in-the-moment attitude. Playtime had just been canceled. “The Grimshores are an old family, right?”
Ebony nodded.
“Well, according to this, they’re not as old as you think.” He picked up one of the files. “There’s pretty extensive information here, but it only seems to go back to the 1920s.”
Ebony made a face. “Oh they’re much older than that… I think.” She scratched her head. It wasn’t as if she’d learned it in school or anything, but she was fairly sure that the Grimshores were one of Vale’s oldest established families. Now she was pressed, she wasn’t sure exactly where she’d learned that fact.
“Well those books I borrowed from you on the history Vale, say you’re wrong. The Grimshores only arrived in the ‘20s. And by arrived, I mean popped up out of the blue.”
Ebony made another face. Though she couldn’t put her finger on the exact facts, she simply knew Nate must be wrong. “No, that can’t be right. Everyone knows that the Grimshores are a very established family. They own some of the nicest, oldest buildings in Vale, and they have their fingers in nearly every business-flavored pie you could imagine.”
Nate shrugged easily, shoulders tugging at the fabric of his neat shirt. “Well, not according to these files and not according to those books you gave me. Now, unless you are telling me these files are wrong, and those books you lent me were pure fiction, then the Grimshores only appeared in the ‘20s.”
She shook her head, expression a muddle of confusion. “No. The magical files couldn’t be wrong. You can’t doctor them or fake them like you could ordinary files. They’re heavily protected by the Truth—”
“The truth?” His eyebrows descended as his face became masked with confusion.
“Oh, just one of the universal forces – kind of like Death, but less active.”
“Right,” Nate said automatically.
“Anyhow, they can’t be doctored. And those books you got from my store – it’s kind of the same thing. Believe it or not, they’re actually written by Harry. They’re in-house editions, if you will. Harry was a prolific historian and an even greater wizard. If that’s what he said, then that’s the truth…. But—”
“But what?” Nate straightened the files in front of him, but didn’t take his eyes off her.
“I don’t remember reading any of this.”
“Right,” he held out one of the files, motioning for her to take it, “Then re-read it and refresh your memory.” He stood from his chair, motioning for her to take it. “I’m going to go find a chair and maybe something to eat. Don’t you move now.”
Ebony rolled her eyes and just kept her smile at bay. He was being rude, she told herself, and yet she couldn’t help but smile. He was being arrogant and over-protective, she tried to convince herself again, but, once again, she s
imply smiled.
Was he really being arrogant, or was that simply what Ebony found easiest to believe? Just as she’d done with her mother last night, Ebony had slipped into the version of events that was easiest and most satisfying to hold; the one where the world was against her, where her mother had abandoned her, and where Ebony didn’t seem in control, or responsible, for anything that was happening.
And yet she’d had an almost incident-free walk to work with her mother. Could the same be happening with Nate? Could it be that what was easiest to believe about the detective simply wasn’t true?
She glanced down at the files, plunging into them like someone jumping into a lake from a cliff above.
Nate was right, she realized as she flicked from file to file. There simply wasn’t anything on the Grimshores prior to the ‘20s. And he was also right about them apparently popping into existence. There wasn’t any background information on them. Whoever had written the file, speculated on that exact fact – the Grimshores didn’t appear to have any traceable history.
Ebony frowned as she read, her head leaning on her hand as her gaze flicked across the text with the darting energy of a hummingbird.
The Grimshores weren’t quite the upstanding family everyone supposed. Once again, if anyone had asked Ebony whether the Grimshore family were upstanding citizens, she would have nodded an emphatic yes. They gave to charities, attended all the right functions, even sat on all the right boards of administration. They were good people, with the best interests of Vale at heart.
Now, she was learning that the once beautiful flower was plastic.
According to these files, the Grimshores were involved in more magical crime than you could shake a stick at (or a wand, or a broom, or a sacrificial knife). For an intense period they’d had their fingers in everything – from importing banned magical items to trying to gain an unfair advantage through hexing.
As far as she could tell, they were never charged for any of it. Even though there was a whole box pertaining to their extra-legal activities, the Grimshores weren’t once punished for a single crime. It was a fact that was noted in their files with some emphasis. Not only was it very hard to pin a crime on the family, it was impossible to make it stick.
By the time Nate returned, Ebony was so engrossed in her files, she didn’t notice him until he stood right in front of the desk.
“Doesn’t make much sense, does it?” he intoned with a keen voice, taking a sip of his coffee and handing her one. “And makes you wonder what on Earth is really going on.”
Ebony took a deep breath and nodded. “I just don’t get it.” She held the warm cup close, eating up the heat as if she’d just been dragged in from the snow. “Why didn’t I know these things? Why didn’t anyone tell me? I’ve never been told about any of this stuff. Not once have I ever heard the barest whisper of any of this. The Grimshores are upstanding people,” she said automatically, then stopped, shaking her head in surprise. “Sorry, they’re supposed to be upstanding people.”
Nate’s face had an unreadable expression. “You just said they were. Say it again.”
“Sorry?” She took a sip from her coffee, not following him.
“Say that the Grimshores aren’t upstanding people. Try and say it.”
She looked at him askance, hoping he realized how mad he sounded. “Okay. The Grimshores are upstanding people.” It took her several seconds to realize what she’d said. “No, sorry – they aren’t upstanding people,” she managed with considerable effort.
Nate put his coffee down on the desk. “I’d say that’s pretty weird, wouldn’t you? Not being able to say a word against the Grimshores?”
Ebony, lips parted, just nodded.
“Almost sounds magical.” He crossed his arms, still staring down at her.
She chewed her lips. “This isn’t good, Nate. In fact, this is very, very bad.”
“Strong magic?”
“Very strong magic.” She sat back from the files, staring up at him, not knowing what to do or say next.
“Then that’s good, right?” He shrugged, smiling down at her.
“Sorry, how is that good?”
“Because we now have a lead. You think it’s a coincidence that a Grimshore just happens to be involved in the crime that gets you slapped with a wild punishment you don’t deserve?” He put both hands down on the desk, as if to emphasize his point.
“Oh,” Ebony managed, her voice flat, “Right,” she found herself using the same word Nate always did.
Her gaze followed his arms down to the desk, and she took a moment to stare at what was there.
“Oh my goodness,” she said slowly, her voice tiny.
“What is it?” Nate’s voice was quick.
Ebony picked up one of the files, gently plucking a photo from between the pages. She’d seen this picture earlier this morning, but she obviously hadn’t properly looked at it. “Nate,” she looked up at him, her eyes wide with shock, “I’ve seen this before!”
He probably resisted the urge to crack a joke, and nodded at her quickly. “Where?”
She swallowed. “In the crypt.”
Very suddenly her arm began to ache. Her wound from the crypt erupted in a dull, persistent pain. She rubbed it, but didn’t put down the photo. “Nate, this was on the cover of the book the man from the crypt was using for his spell.”
“That’s the Grimshore family crest,” he said automatically. “But Ebony, what book are you talking about?”
Ebony blinked rapidly. “The book from the crypt. The one that contained his spell for the future – the whole reason for summoning Death. You must know what I’m talking about,” she laughed uneasily. “Nate?”
He shook his head. “We never recovered a book, Ebony, just the guy and Cecilia Grimshore.”
Ebony kept blinking. “But the book—”
“This is important, isn’t it?”
“Kind of, yeah. The book was the whole point of his spell. I mean…” her voice trailed off. She was starting to feel very cold, and very alone.
Maybe Nate noticed, because he reached out a hand and placed it lightly on her arm. Instantly her flesh began to warm with a pleasant tingle.
And maybe he’d also started to notice Ebony was feeling alone, because at that exact moment, he leaned further over the desk, face angling her way.
Witch's Bell Book One Page 15
