Witch's Bell Book One (2 page)

Ebony smiled, perfect
white-teeth glinting through the ruby-red of her favorite
lipstick.
“Detectives Nate and Tate, hmm, now doesn't that roll off
the tongue.”

Ben made a loud sound like a
buzzer.
“Wrong answer, Eb. That's where you curtsy and say “nice to
meet you, detective.” And as for you,” Ben turned on Nate, “this is
where you—”

“
It's such a damn pleasure to
meet you,” Nate crossed the room quickly and, much to Ebony's
surprise, lifted up her hand and shook it vigorously. The man had a
grip like a jeweler’s vice, and shook Ebony's hand like a
businessman after a sales pitch. “Gee,” his voice was high and
fake, “my name's Detective Nathan Andrew Wall, such a
pleasure.”

Ebony blinked quickly, surprised at
his sudden change of personality. Her first impression of this man
had been one of a sarcastic, but mostly boring, all around
good-guy. Tall, handsome, officious, and would probably cite every
single rule in the book, given the chance. But now she had to
change her estimation of Detective Nate Wall. Why? Because the man
was clearly playing her.

“
So, Eb,” Nate stood a little
too close to Ebony, looming height and solid build just a touch
inside her personal space, “do you mind if I call you
Eb?”

Just as she'd teased and
prodded him before, the good detective was now getting his own
back.
“No,
pet,” she stressed the term of endearment, “you call me whatever
you need to.”

“
Ah, how accommodating,” Nate
nodded, face full of false cheer. Only the curl at the corners of
his lips looked real. “So, Eb, I'm the new detective in town, and
my partner here was just showing me the ropes, see.”

Ebony nodded her head, eyes narrowing
ever so slightly. Detective Nate could play this game all he
wanted, but really, the boy had no idea what was coming.

“
Anyhow, my partner here really
seems to think it's important that I meet you. I don't know why,”
Nate's tone was beginning to shift, “I mean, you run a used
bookstore, after all. Hey, maybe you have a great section on crime,
or something? Or some collector's edition Guns and Ammo? Or,” the
detective's tone was now as dry and sharp as a newly forged blade,
“maybe this is a waste of time.”

“
Hmm,” Ebony made a soft,
careful noise. “You are in luck; I do have a very good collection
of books relating to crime. And I might even have a couple of
copies of Guns and Ammo hanging around.”

Nate's face was stony,
challenging.

“
Also,” her mouth formed the
slowest of smiles, “I'm a witch.”

Dead silence met that little
fact. Finally Nate's expression cracked, and he let out a bullet
blast of a laugh.
“A witch? Blimey, you're wasting my time and you're
mad.”

If Nate Wall had half the mind
to look at his partner, he would have seen the ashen look of fear
cross Ben's face.
“Ah, Nate,” Ben began, “you might not want to—”

“
You know what, lady, I have
work to do. There was a horrible, brutal murder last night. As fun
as this has been, I have a real job.” Nate turned around and
started picking his way towards the front door. “Judging by the
look of this store,” he mumbled under his breath, “you would have
no idea what work is anyway. The damn thing should be torn
down.”

Ebony crossed her arms, red
fingernails drumming around the sleeves of her white
summer-dress.

“
Ebony,” Ben's voice had a note
of pleading, “don't do anything too—”

A pile of old books and magazines
suddenly tumbled off the counter and right into the path of the
retreating Detective Nate. The Detective obviously had quick
reflexes, and dodged to the side with little effort.

“
This place is a death trap,”
Nate noted through a grunt.

Another pile of books tumbled
over, and another. None of them were close enough, or large enough,
to do any damage to the rude detective. But still, the man's face
started to tighten with fear.
“What,” he snapped quickly, “this store is coming
down around your ears!”

“
This store,” Ebony said, voice
a cold whisper, “doesn't like to be insulted. Me,” she brought an
expressive hand up to her chest, “I don't care what you say about
me, pet, but you really shouldn't insult the store.”

The man's eyes widened as another pile
of books tipped over by his side. Old novels and yellowed magazines
were now strewn everywhere, as if Ebony had simply gone up the
spiral staircase that led to the second level and tipped box after
box over the railing and onto the floor below.

“
You're going to have to say
sorry,” she lifted her face to meet the detective's gaze. His eyes
were wide, his brow more creased than a shoreline after a storm.
But still, somehow, he didn't appear to be all that shaken. Boxes
may have been erupting books like geysers at a hot spring, but
somehow the man still had that determined tilt to his
jaw.

“
You aren't serious—” he
began.

Books now started to simply tip from
the bookcases, as if shoved from behind. The open-sign somehow fell
off its hook, striking the floor with a thud, and coming to rest
against Detective Nate's particularly shiny shoes.

Nate looked down.

“
Quickly,” Ebony hissed, “before
he starts tipping the bookcases over.”

There was an ominous thud from
upstairs.

Nate carefully looked up, then
to each side, and finally back at Ebony. He tilted his head down,
chin close to his chest, and looked up at her.
“Sorry,” he began.

A tenuous silence filtered through the
store.

“
But this is ridiculous,” Nate
finished.

Ebony sucked in a sudden
breath.
“Why
you little—”

One of the large, wooden bookcases
just behind the counter began to tilt forward. Left alone the thing
would likely crash right over the counter and splinter on top of a
truly surprised Detective Nate.

“
Cowboy!” she spat at him as she
stalked up to him. She grabbed his arm and yanked him towards her,
out of the way of the teetering bookcase and out of the line of
danger. “If I had a dollar for every time an arrogant idiot like
you got yourself into trouble around magic,” she paused as she
pushed him to the side as one of the light-fittings fell from the
lamp above, “I'd buy you all life insurance and finally cash out.
Really, is it so hard to believe in magic?”

With the now thoroughly surprised
detective still in hand, Ebony whipped an arm around her head in a
small circle. At her feet a soft blue glow appeared, spiraling
outward until it encompassed both her and Nathan Wall with
ease.

Finally the detective looked
surprised. No, that wasn't quite right. He looked bone-shaken, with
pallid skin and a sharp, breathless look on his face.

“
Now,” Ebony said, voice
genuinely soft, “for some reason this store has taken a spectacular
disliking to you. He's never usually quite this rude. But
unfortunately for you, you are the one who started it.” Ebony was
standing close enough to the detective that she could feel the heat
of his breath. “Like it or not, you're going to have to finish it
as well. Now, all you have to do is say only one little word.” Her
sharp gray-blue eyes twinkled out at him. “Just one little
word.”

Detective Nate just stood there
and stared at her, bottom lip jutting slightly forward.
“What on Earth is
going—”

Ebony mouthed
“sorry”
expressively.

And finally the dolt did what
he was told. With a quick little cough, and a startled but sheepish
look on his face, he announced
“sorry” in a loud voice.

“
Ah,” Ebony clapped her hands
together, “finally.”

The books stopped falling, the
magazines stopped fluttering, the bookcases no longer tipped
themselves all over the ground, and somehow the open sign had
reverted to its usual place above the door.

Ebony patted at her
hair.
“Now,
that's certainly a strange way to start the morning.” She clicked
her fingers, the blue circle of protection disappearing from her
feet. She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the mess, “oh
dear.”

Ben crawled out from underneath
the banana lounge; his round face drooped like a flower.
“Damn it Ebony, you
trying to kill us?”

“
It wasn't me,” she waved him
off with a flick of her hand. “Apparently Harry is in a mood this
morning.” Ebony knelt down and started piling books on top of each
other, trying to clear a path from the door to the
stairs.

“
What's going on, who's Harry?”
came the gruff voice of Detective Nate behind her, “and what just
happened?”

Ebony rolled her eyes, sighed,
and stood up. Ebony Bell was tall, slender, had long red hair, and
sparkling blue eyes. She was hardly a super model though. Ebony
Bell wore her face and body like a trophy wife wears a jacket: one
for every occasion. Not to say that Ebony literally pulled off her
face and slotted a new one in place. It was her expressions, her
stance, her body language. At times Ebony would smile, her hair
glinting in the sun, her eyes sparkling and warm
– and she would
look like the most beautiful creature ever born. At other times she
would stalk to and fro, her lips pulled, eyes narrow, fists rolled
up – and look like a deadly menace, akin to the most terrifying of
hardened criminals. And yet at other times Ebony would be engaged
in the most mundane of tasks, and look for all the world like a
simple, ordinary woman.

It was a rule with Ebony: whatever she
was doing, she became.

Why?

Because Ebony Bell was a Summoner
Witch. And the first hallowed rule of summoning is
becoming.

“
Listen Detective Nathan Wall,
I'm sure you are a little surprised by all of this. So let me start
at the beginning. My name is Ebony Elizabeth Bell. I am a witch. I
own a magical second-hand bookstore. Harry is the name of the
spirit who inhabits the store.” Ebony cast around her feet, as if
looking for more thoughts. “Now let me see, is that it?”

Detective Nate looked at her
askance.
“A
magical bookstore called Harry ... a witch,” he repeated, voice
uneven.

Ben trundled up to him.
“I told you she was
an important one to meet. But no, you didn't believe me,” he let
out a stuttering laugh. “That's the thing with rookies, always
think they know best.”

Ebony put a finger on her lips, and
wondered just how much she should tell this man. He was a
firecracker, to be sure. Full of determination, idiocy, and a
freakish sense of right and wrong. Just the recipe for having
something explode in your face.

But Ebony had what could only
be called a special relationship with the police force of this
city. As resident Summoner Witch, she had to. The city of Vale,
after all, was sitting right on top of a gate between worlds
– a Portal. As
such, though it already had its fair share of ordinary crime, it
also had extraordinary crime. And that's where Ebony came
in.

Vale had truly ancient roots, and
somewhere in its dark past a pact had been made between the witches
and whatever ragtag bunch had then been equivalent to the police.
When they had to, they worked together to keep its citizens safe.
No one else had a clue about this pact, or even the existence of
witches, for that matter. If Ebony walked up to an ordinary Valian
and asked if they knew that there was a witch who did consultancy
work for the police department, they'd likely laugh at her and
quickly text a friend about the tool fool they'd seen in the
street.

Nevertheless, there was a pact,
and it had held right up to this day. Somehow
– no matter what happened to
the governments, what political parties took hold, what practices
were changed, what mayor was elected – the pact held. Even during
the two World Wars, the witches of Vale had still kept up their
bargain. Come rain, hail, shine, or demon, the Witches honored this
sacred agreement.

And for the most part, the police
honored theirs. No witch was ever dragged off by secret government
spies for questioning and prodding in a dark room. And no policeman
ever had a hex, a love potion, or a curse thrown through their
front window. The police knew what they had to do, and so did the
witches. Keep to the bargain and somehow this unlikely alliance
would last. Break the bargain, as the old witches had warned, and
the witches would simply disappear.

And guns and riot shields weren't
entirely effective against a hoard of demons.

So it was that Ebony had come to know
Ben. Ebony had moved to this city when she was a sparkling eyed
ten-year-old, and had fallen in love with it. She'd learned the
code from her mother, a witch, and had learned to shoot from her
father, a police officer. She'd gone off to study, travel the
world, and generally bum around in her early twenties, before
finally coming back to the only city she really knew. When Harry's
second-hand bookstore had come up for sale, she'd managed to muster
the money for the deposit. And when the police department had put
out the call for a new witch liaison, she'd been delighted when
they'd accepted her application.