Witch's Bell Book One (24 page)

Ben shook his head slightly,
like a long haired dog trying to get its fur out of its
eyes.
“Right. I mean, of course you haven't. Anyhow, ah, we've
found you an office,” he said quickly.

“
Okay,” Ebony's voice was light,
barely-there compared to her usual punchy tone. But it didn't feel
so bad, she told herself almost adding in another shrug. It just
felt different. Ebony found herself staring off at a random scuff
mark on the wall, head filled with thoughts again. Not that a
witch's head wasn't usually filled with thoughts – they were just
more anchored than Ebony's current musings. She thought about the
bus, about being late for work, about the many varied responses her
clothes were eliciting – she thought about it all in a jumbled mess
of random curiosity. How did it all fit together, her objective
mind asked. All these colors, shapes, desires, emotions,
uncertainties, and experiences?

There was no doubt Ebony was
feeling very philosophical, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
In fact, it was darn-right appropriate because it was the Month of
Rites. Though Ebony had had a great deal else on her mind in the
last several days, she also hadn't failed to notice that her little
magical punishment corresponded perfectly with the most important
month in a witch's year
– the Month of Rites.

You were meant to rewrite
yourself anew for 28 days, set up the year to come with the magical
creativity and exactitude only a trained witch could muster. But
now Ebony found herself without anything to write with, and with
prodigious magical-writer's-block. All she could do at the moment
was think
–
in a haphazard, awkward, undisciplined way. Which was going to lead
to a terribly strange year, Ebony realized with a bare smile and a
sigh.

Even though the thoughts were eminent
and important, Ebony realized with a quick blink that now was
probably not the time to get lost in them. She looked up from her
vacant stare to see both detectives sharing a worried
look.

“
Where's my office, then?” she
asked with an awkward smile. “I'm here to work, aren't
I?”

Ben's top teeth were sunk so
deep into his bottom lip that the skin had turned a mottled white
and pink.
“Eb, you sure you're feeling okay? I mean, are there any
side effects from those bracelets, or the drugs maybe? Did you get
a good night's sleep?”

Ebony sighed, realizing that
Ben probably now thought she was a drug-addicted insomniac
ex-witch. But her shoes were so comfortable, she reminded herself
again, so very comfortable.
“Don't worry,” she said honestly, this time not
shrugging, “it will take time to get used to. Plus,” she found
herself grinning, “I've never had drugs before.”

She meant it as a joke, but
Ben's face became all the more pained.
“Okay,” he eventually said with a
nod, “I'm going to set you up in your office,” he said clearly, as
if talking to a three-year-old. “There are some old cases I thought
you could look at for me – but no pressure,” he raised his hands
quickly, as if trying to negotiate his way out of a hostage
situation. “You get to them only if you feel you can.”

“
Okay. I don't have anything
else to do. And I can still read, I think,” she tried for another
joke, this time adding a grin to make sure it went down
right.

But once again, Ben just looked
pained.
“You
can't read? I mean, that was magical too?”

“
No,” she said blankly, “I can
read, Ben.”

“
Okay, okay, I'll take you to
your office then,” Ben looked and acted like a worried
aunt.

Nate opened his mouth, as if
trying to say something, then just blinked heavily.
“Glad to have you
back,” he eventually offered.

“
I didn't go anywhere,” Ebony
added, a bare spark of her usual spunky nature returning. But the
spark was still dim against her current mellowed state.

As Ben turned, ushering Ebony
on with a flick of his hand, a tall, leggy, stunning blonde walked
into the room. Chalcedony. She was wearing a very smart, very
stylish black skirt
– an expensive looking white shirt ruffling out from it.
She had high, but smart, black heels on. She had a gray handbag
hanging over her arm, her usually dead straight blond hair looped
into an exacting bun at the base of her neck. She wore make-up, but
with the ease of someone who didn't really care.

Ebony saw more than a couple of
appreciative glances slip Chalcedony's way from the men in the
room. Even the women looked slightly awed.

Chalcedony cocked her head to
one side when she saw Ebony, her electric-green eyes glinting. She
didn't say anything, but she didn't have to
– it was plastered over her
face like a ten-meter billboard.

“
Glad you're here,” Nate said,
rushing up to the new witch. “We've got a situation down
town—”

“
I've read the report, Detective
Wall, and I am ready to go. This situation should be easy to
control, but I suggest that we move now. I never like to
delay.”

Was that admiration flickering in
Nate's eyes, or something else? Was the usually efficient Detective
admiring Chalcedony's graceful go-get-them attitude, or just her
figure?

Ebony bit down on her lips, an unusual
frustration seizing her torso, as sticky and slow as melted
treacle.

It was strange, seconds before she'd
been detached and philosophical and now she was itching with
frustration. Being human, and without magic, was like being a flag
in a hurricane. You turned this way and that entirely at the whim
of the wind whipping around you.

And the winds, apparently, had just
changed, and Ebony felt the annoyance draw through her with the
pull of a gale.

She tried not to meet
Chalcedony's gaze. Her former best friend may have been many
things, but she was still a witch, and a very powerful witch at
that. Ebony could glare at the blonde bombshell all she wanted, but
Chalcedony could reply with a witch's gaze
– and Ebony would rather not grow a
boil on the end of her nose right now.

So Ebony found herself staring down at
the floor, chewing into her lips like they were leather
bits.

Ben tried to get her attention
with an awkward wave.
“Ah, Eb? Something on the ground? Anyhow, we've
got to go now. Frank will show you to your office.” And with that,
Ben, her Ben, turned to follow a different witch out the
door.

Nate grabbed his jacket off the
back of his chair, throwing it on while offering Ebony a
calculating look. Then he checked his badge and gun were in place,
still not taking his eyes off her.
“I think I know what your problem is,” he
said eventually.

Ebony wasn't that far gone to
notice the sarcasm brimming in his voice, and she mustered just
enough energy to stare back at him with a slightly defiant
look.
“Is it
the fact I've been unfairly punished for a crime I didn't commit?”
her voice had half of her usual pluck, but she still managed to
find something in her reserves of defiance to meet his unyielding
gaze.

“
Hmm,” he nodded his head, then
broke into a proper grin. It was the kind of grin you reserved for
when you just found out you'd won the lottery – it was surprising,
jubilant and ....

Ebony's eyebrows descended, her teeth
clenching. What was this guy up to?

“
I definitely know what your
problem is,” the smile stayed on his lips as he turned to follow
the others through the door.

“
Hey,” she said, voice cracking
louder than it had been all morning, “what are you talking about, I
don't have a problem!”

“
Yeah, you do. And I know what
it is,” he turned to face her, walking backwards for a moment, grin
still very real and very apparent.

“
What is it then?” Ebony crossed
her arms, and flicked her hair to the side.

“
Oh no, I figured it out – now
you've got to figure it out on your own.” He finally turned from
her and then disappeared through the door without another
word.

If Ebony had a lollipop in her
mouth, it would have fallen out by now, hitting the floor and
smashing into little pieces. What? What was that idiot up to, she
thought to herself, fists clenching. Why, that little blighter, she
thought biting down hard, he was such a little sponge-head. She
didn't have a problem! Well, apart from the obvious
– but it was just
cruel to point that out.

Ebony stood there for several seconds,
fuming like a chimney that had caught fire. It wasn't until Frank
walked up behind her, offering a shaky cough, that she snapped back
to reality.

“
Oh, Frank,” she said, finally
unclenching her jaw.

“
Hello, Ebony Bell,” he used her
full name, which summed Frank up completely. He'd been here so long
that he'd seen Ebony grow up from a little bub. He still saw her
father regularly too, and would always bemoan to Ebony, at any
opportunity, how good her dad had been as the Detective Inspector.
He had class, Frank would say, and heart. He was a good man. And
you just didn't see that these days.

Ebony offered her own small
cough.
“So,
where's my office? Ben said you'd show me there.”

Frank nodded, his graying hair
flopping on his head as if it was more of a cushion and less like
it was actually attached to his skin.
“You are looking very nice today,
Ebony Bell,” he commented with a gentlemanly nod. “You're usually
in those terribly big and pointy heels – but those are very fancy
shoes you've got on there – very nice.”

Ebony felt like taking a step back and
shaking her head in disbelief. What on Earth was with these shoes?!
While the rest of her outfit was attracting more boos than a pop
song at a death metal concert, it seemed that old people thought
her shoes were the second coming.

Was she missing something? Were
these the shoes of God? Had they starred in an awesome film in
the
‘30s?
Were they the shoes everyone simply had to have back when Frank was
a boy?

“
Umm,” Ebony just put up a hand,
making a strange face, “o ... kay,” she said finally, not wanting
to be rude. “Thanks ... these shoes are pretty good.”

Ebony made a mental note to go
home and search through the rest of her wardrobe that night. There
was bound to be an imp in there casting curious spells on her
clothes
– it
was the only way to explain this.

“
Alright then, you follow me,
and I'll take you to your office. I'll warn you though; it's a bit
of a walk.”

Ebony scratched at her nose,
slightly confused.
“Umm, I thought I was just going to get a desk in here,
with you guys? So I could stay close to the action—”

“
Oh, never any action in there,
Ebony Bell,” Frank sniffed heartily as if that fact was a grim
burden. “Just coffee. Anyway, I thought, seeing as you are here to
look through some old files for a while, that I'd put you with the
files. Seems right, doesn't it?”

Ebony made an unpleasant face,
but quickly shifted to a polite smile.
“Really? There's an office down
there?”

“
Oh no, not down there. The
basement is where we keep all the mundane files. No, Ben wants you
to look through the unsolved magical cases. And we keep those up on
the top floor.”

“
Top floor? But there's nothing
up there but equipment, storage, and—”

“
Files,” Frank finished off her
sentence with his bland, but direct tone. “And there's an office
too. Back when this place was built, when we had a bit more magical
crime doing the rounds – we had a full-time witch on who just used
to do the filing. Margaret was her name,” Frank's face took on a
far off look, with a bare smile playing at the edges of his usually
drawn-lips.

“
Really, I didn't know this,”
Ebony followed close behind Frank as he slowly took the stairs.
Even though there was an elevator, Frank always took the
stairs.

“
Lots you don't know about this
place, Ebony Bell, it’s full of secrets. Lots of files, too. But
you'll know that by the end of the month, I'm sure.”

Ebony smiled wanly. Yes, that was
definitely one lesson she was going to learn, not that she'd ever
wanted to. Filing, researching, and general paperwork were not very
fun. And even though Ebony worked in a used bookstore, she still
hated that side of police work. She didn't care too much about what
some half-drunk university student had summoned on the morning of
the 25th of December 25 years ago. It was water under the bridge.
Ebony cared about the present. She still loved her books, and loved
to read. But she was no history buff, unlike a certain Detective
Nate, who had now borrowed so many books from her she was thinking
of giving him a library card.

As they ascended the stairs, Ebony let
her eyes wander to the windows that were neatly placed along the
back wall of the stairwell. The stairs were big, long, tall, and
strong. They were the backbone of the department, her father had
once said, like the spine sending messages to the rest of the body.
But if they were the backbone, then, technically, at their top
should be the brain. But instead the top floor was full of old
equipment, dust, and more yellow files than the eye could see.
Unlike ordinary files, magical cases couldn't readily be typed-up
and shifted onto computers. There was something very important that
was lost in the translation. So the witches had always encouraged
the police department never to get rid of their old files
pertaining to magical crime. As such, they'd just shifted them up
to the old top-floor.