Witch's Bell Book One (31 page)

He was surprised by her
intervention, but allowed himself to be pulled backwards. And just
as he did, the pinching around them grew thicker. Ebony 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 seemed to congregate
around the man, making the space around him seem more concentrated.
He suddenly had more form, more space, more shape, more color. But
then, in an instant, he disappeared completely.

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

But her hand was still on Nate's
arm.

The ordinary sky seemed to fall in
above them. The suffocating blanket, that had once covered the
lane-way, seeming to lift to reveal the real world.

Her hand was still on Nate's
hand, her body still shaking from the shock, adrenaline, and
intensity of the situation. After a moment, Nate put his own hand
over hers, gently pulling it from his arm, but still holding onto
it.
“Are you
okay?” he said very clearly, very calmly.

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

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

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

But just as the situation threatened
to overwhelm her, Ebony's attention seemed to be drawn towards
Nate's hand. It was warm, strong, and very there. It was an odd way
to put it, but it was a strange fact of life that some things were
more there than other things. There was more solidity, more
presence, more gravity; more sheer there-ness to certain things in
life. And right now, it was exactly what Ebony needed holding her
hand.

Just 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, eyes alarmed but
calculating.

“
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 finally 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 finally 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, even 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
towards the boot of his car.

“
We have to go inside, quickly,”
Ebony's voice was desperate as she went for her keys. But she
realized with a completely 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, pulling the gun and holster from his
case, and fixing them around himself with quick, practiced
ease.

Ebony shook her head. She didn't want
Nate going back there on his own. Even though the titan of a man
had obviously been after Ebony, she couldn't let Nate go back
there.

But just as Ebony took a heavy, pained
sigh, the door behind her opened.

Harry let them in.

Nate's face narrowed, but Ebony just
rushed inside immediately, beckoning him on with quick flicks of
her hand.

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

Nate didn't rush in
though.
“You
can't just leave your bag back there,” he brushed at his nose, one
hand seeming to perpetually hover near his holster. “I'll go back
to get it.”

“
Nate! Get inside! It's not
worth it! It's just a bag!” Ebony's voice was more desperate than
she'd ever heard it. Every word seemed to be punctuated with
throat-wrenching hiccups – as if she were trying to push her speech
through a broken, closed-off throat.

“
That guy wanted your bag,
Ebony, we can't leave it back there,” and with that, he turned and
half-ran back down the street.

“
Nate!” she screamed after him,
launching herself towards 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!” she
screamed.

But 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 doubly
so.

So Ebony just found herself sinking 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 Ebony wouldn't
come back.

Finally, finally, she heard footsteps
outside, and she ran back towards 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, as if trying to see over a hedge
at what was coming down off the hill.

He took a deep, tired sigh, and handed
her the bag.

She took it, quickly dumping it to the
ground. She tried to fight the urge to just leap forward and hug
him. Even though she almost hated the guy, she reminded herself,
she couldn't think of anything else to do right now.

She just wanted to hug him, feel his
arms close in around her, and her arms fold in around
him.

Instead, she just kept bouncing from
foot to foot.

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

Ebony just shook her head.

“
What kind of magic was that?”
He asked, voice still 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,” she
continued.

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 even her best, trained efforts. 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 around 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 magical creature against a magical
creature.

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

She blinked quickly, his touch
distracting, but 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, 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 – leaving the path
clear.

“
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 just sighed, rolling her eyes
visibly. But she wasn't annoyed by his words, even though they were
cheeky. She was strangely thankful for the warmth it brought the
situation.

But just as Nate put his foot on the
first step, probably 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 Ebony would never leave one in such a
dangerous position. It headed straight towards Nate. Ebony saw it
before Nate did, twisted on her step, and tried to reach for it.
She did manage to catch it with a gruff
“oooppph,” but over balanced in the
process, careening towards Nate like a felled tree heading for the
ground.

He caught her, balance perfect. He
didn't teeter backwards. 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 Ebony's suddenly still mind could describe it. Her anxieties,
worries, and fears all seemed to stop 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. For Ebony Bell, her heart was suddenly as clear as a
powerful bell.

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

And then the arresting moment
stopped, and Ebony 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 that 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.”