Witch's Bell Book One

  Chapter 14

  Ebony’s jaw set slowly, like water dripping onto a glacier. Her mother was goading her into having a fight, here and now.

  “Come on child, isn’t there something you want to say to me?” Avery Bell leaned against the banister, her face angling down, her long, sleek black hair slipping over her shoulders with a swoosh. She was in an elegant blue, flowing robe, its cuffs and collar embroidered with various symbols and runes. Her eyes glittered an inviting but treacherous gold, and her skin glowed a faint blue.

  “Uh, darling,” Ebony’s father said from the base of the stairs, “Maybe now isn’t the time.”

  “There isn’t any other time, only the time we have now,” her mother replied cryptically.

  “Fine.” Ebony’s lips smacked together too loudly, as if she was making a verbal exclamation mark.

  “You’re angry because you were punished.” Her mother blinked, her eyes suddenly changing to a shimmering green.

  “Angry? Why would I be angry?” Ebony was becoming less and less aware of the three men in the room. For now, it was just her and her mother. She lifted up her hands, showing off her shackles. “What kind of a punishment is this?” she spat, words punctuated with emotion. “It doesn’t match what I did – and you know that.”

  Her mother raised an eyebrow, cocked her head to one side, and waited.

  “I did whatever I could to save that woman.” Ebony bared her teeth. “I fought that guy off with all I had. I saved that woman. And you punished me for revealing myself to a human? I don’t get it! It’s just not fair! I did the best I could—”

  “It is forbidden to openly admit that you are a witch in the presence of a mundane,” her mother automatically replied, as if she were reading an entry from the rule book – which, in a way, she was. It was a fundamental tenet of witch-law, after all.

  Ebony shook her head, her cheeks and face now as hot and ruddy as a boiling tomato sauce. “There was something strange about that woman, really strange,” she repeated, voice high. “Has she been investigated? Has she been looked into? Or have you just concentrated on disproportionately punishing your own daughter for a crime you know she didn’t really commit?” Ebony’s voice was getting louder and louder.

  “And yet, the punishment stands.” Avery leaned back, pulling herself into a ramrod straight, but elegant position. “You can argue all you want, you can throw around as many excuses as you can find. But you cannot change the fact you were punished.”

  “Why?” Ebony’s mouth formed around the word, pushing it out with a great rush of air. “It doesn’t make any sense. Rather than look into the real situation, you’re distracting yourselves with me. Well fine, see if I care.”

  Her father swallowed heavily, but didn’t for a second admonish her for shouting at her mother. He wouldn’t dare. This had now become a full-blown witch-domestic. As such, it was considerably lucky for everyone involved that Ebony didn’t have any magic, or fireballs and lightning-strikes would be bouncing off the walls.

  “You’re a foolish child.” Avery’s eyes flashed a deep purple, the hand that clutched the banister tightening visibly. “You have no idea what you’ve walked into, and now you are looking around for someone to blame, while you ignore the real cause – you.”

  “Hold on,” Nate said from down the stairs, his voice laden with his usual authority and righteousness. It didn’t matter who he was talking to – lowly criminal, or super powerful mega-witch – Nate always spoke in the same tone. He obviously stood for one thing, a thing he repeated over and over again – right. And he wasn’t ever going to let anything stand in his way.

  “Shut up!! Leave it to them,” Ben warned.

  “No,” Nate said with greater force this time. “This isn’t right.”

  Avery Bell fluttered her eyes toward him. She appeared to give Nate a long, calculating look. “What isn’t right, little chevalier?”

  “Ebony was just attacked,” he said clearly and forcefully, tone unforgiving – even in the face of Avery Bell’s magical gaze. “This isn’t a good time for a domestic. We have to find out who did this and why.”

  Avery Bell smiled mysteriously. “No, those are things to find out later.” she dipped her head to one side, as if trying to see Nate from another angle.

  “Later?” Ebony shot back, her voice arcing with anger. “This means nothing to you, doesn’t it? Your only daughter is mugged by a magical creature, and you just don’t care. I couldn’t defend myself, because you took away my magic. What the Hell kind of mother are you?” Her tone was venomous – poisoned with a deep, frustrated anger. How dare her mother? How dare she!?

  Suddenly Avery Bell’s face changed. Her eyes became darker, almost black. Her skin began to crackle with an electric blue, and her lips drew into the thinnest line. “You invoke Hell,” She put a bony hand up, touching her chest, “Against your mother.”

  Ebony sucked in a breath, watching the anger and power crackle over and through her mother, like thunderous water engulfing a ship sinking into the sea. She wasn’t going to back down though. “Maybe you don’t give me any choice.”

  “Choice?” Avery’s voice sounded like a bone snapping. It crackled and punched out of her throat with a snap. “That’s exactly why you are here now doing this and that.” Though her words sounded peculiarly melodic – like a nursery rhyme – they were anything but. Each was steeped in a grave, deep anger that rumbled like a volcano. “Have you forgotten everything I ever taught you? You think something like this can happen without your permission? You think you can ever be punished, ever be affected, ever be changed by another without first giving your consent?”

  Though her words might have been mysterious to some, Ebony knew precisely what her mother was talking about, and she didn’t want to hear it. “You’re trying to shift the blame. Nice. You think this is my fault?” She put a hand up to her own chest. “You think I’m the only one involved in this story?

  “No, but here you are at the center, confused, delirious, and completely out of your depth.” Avery’s expression, though angry, was still controlled. That was the defining thing about her– everything she did, everything she said, everything she thought was controlled.

  “Thank you so much.” Ebony shook her head, sucking her lips in as she tried not to be torn apart by the dual forces within her – a vicious anger and a shaking sorrow. It wasn’t just her anger at Avery’s actions – Ebony felt abandoned. “You are a true witch.”

  “Oh yes, I am.” Avery didn’t react to the implied insult, just tapped her hand on the banister, her numerous rings clicking softly. “As such, I can read you like a book.” Her gaze darted over Ebony, as if she were literally trying to read her daughter. “You are so blinded by your little fantasies of righteousness, justice, and sorrow that you can’t see what is before your eyes.”

  “Oh, go on then,” Ebony took a deep, rattling breath, throwing up her hands, “Enlighten me. What’s so obvious?”

  “You’re being rewritten.” This time there wasn’t a drop of anger left in Avery’s voice. No gravity, no frustration.

  Ebony stopped, frozen.

  “Surely you must have realized, little witch, the signs are all around you.”

  Ebony’s breaths became shorter, tighter. Her skin flushed with an intense heat, before turning pasty white with fear.

  “You’re no longer in control. And you cannot blame me for that,” her mother’s voice was much softer now, much kinder. It was also filled with a poignant sorrow Ebony hadn’t heard before. “Though, perhaps, I could have been more careful. I could have taught you more. Tried to impress upon your growing mind the importance of making your own path, taking your own chances, and finding out what you truly want.”

  “I’m not being rewritten,” Ebony said out loud. “I’m just—”

  “While I sit on the Coven, I only follow their rules. I do not lead the Coven. Nor did I vote against you,” she admitted, “Others did. Regardless, I cannot change their ways.
Nor do I decide what direction they travel in. I lend my power to their will. The Coven is beyond the individual’s story. It stands for the collective force, direction, and energy of all witches, past and future.”

  Ebony tried to hide a shiver.

  So her mother hadn’t voted against her and wasn’t directly responsible for the punishment Ebony now weathered? Even so, Avery was hardly on Ebony’s side. She was hardly rushing to her aid here.

  Ebony wanted to stay angry, she really did. But she also wanted this conversation to stop now. Somehow all the fight had left her. In its place all she found was a shivering, icy cold. She wanted to go home, have a shower, have a hot cup of chocolate, and crawl into bed.

  She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to be here.

  “That you came to us, for the supposed crime that you committed, and were punished in the way that you were – is a part of your own story, child. That it does not make sense, that it does not seem right – these are all forces you have allowed to enter your life. You have invited chaos and injustice into your life, and now they sit at either side – confusing, containing, and maiming you. You look outside for the blame and cause, but you fail to see the origin.”

  Ebony fought against the urge to turn around and walk away – to leave everyone and everything behind, and run back home. Her mother couldn’t be right. Ebony would never have allowed such forces into her life. She was boisterous, yes, and sometimes foolish. But Ebony Bell still understood enough about the true power of a witch to control her own destiny.

  Why, she had everything she wanted, didn’t she?

  Yes, she hadn’t thought about her Month of Rites yet, and yes, she hadn’t written in her Journal of Life for some time. But that didn’t mean anything. Ebony still knew what she wanted… she still knew what kind of story she wanted to write for herself… she just couldn’t remember what that was right now.

  “You languish in life, in work, and in spirit. Your story has no power, no direction, no will. You do not know what you want, so you cannot find it.”

  “Now hang on,” Nate said from behind, his voice brimming with defiance. He was probably about to call her out about this entire business, knowing him.

  Avery Bell flicked her hand, and suddenly he was silent as a still night.

  For a fraction of a second.

  “Life isn’t that easy,” he continued.

  Avery’s eyes opened wide, and she flicked her gaze over to Nate. “How are you speaking?”

  “With my voice,” he answered plainly. “But that doesn’t matter right now – though I’ll tell you what does. I don’t care if both of you are witches, if you’ve got magical rites and your own magical ways of doing things. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that Ebony was attacked, and we don’t know why or by whom. You can talk all day about stories, and choices, and knowing what you want – but the more you talk, the less you act. Now we’ve got a crime scene that’s getting colder by the minute. Shouldn’t we do something about that?”

  “You curious little man. You think you can tell a witch that the way she sees the world doesn’t matter? We have magic and power – both things that depend on our perspective, rites, and rituals. And yet you maintain this is of no consequence? By the history, law, and way of the witches, Ebony has kept herself open for an attack, letting her story flounder until a greater, more powerful purpose came to rewrite her. And yet you maintain this does not matter. Tell me, little chevalier, why such hubris?”

  Ebony looked behind her to see Nate with his arms crossed in front of him. If the thought had crossed his mind that he was baiting an incredibly powerful witch, he didn’t show it. He looked stony, determined, and very, very Nate. “Hubris? You think I’m being arrogant here? You sure it’s just me? Here you are, telling us all how to explain the world – with your stories, and magic, and your universal forces. Well, I’ll tell you what. There are a whole lot of people out there that aren’t magical, a whole lot of people that don’t share your little outlook. So, who’s right? You or me? And who has the hubris now?”

  Avery smiled, but it wasn’t entirely nice. She was slightly amused, Ebony could tell, but just as confused by the plucky, determined detective.

  In a strange moment of detachedness, Ebony realized just how different Nate was. He wasn’t bothered by anything magical. It didn’t surprise him, didn’t sway him, didn’t move him.

  “You don’t understand,” Avery said, eyes turning red.

  “Don’t I?” Nate countered, arms still crossed.

  “She doesn’t know what she wants, my poor little witch. So how is she to find it? Magic, little chevalier, is possibility turned on its head – the ability to make the unlikely likely and the likely impossible. But in order to use it right, you must use it with conscience. Unless you use it with a purpose in mind – unless you know precisely what you want from it – then magic becomes random. It becomes chaotic, unruly, and dangerous, destroying what little purpose you have in your life, until you become an easy target to be rewritten by other forces. And my poor little child, for years she’s done just this. Muddled along with no distinct idea of what she truly desires. Using magic for immediate purposes, but for no long-term goal. And with no length of time in mind, with no grand purpose in sight, magic has now left her. What force she’s had has now been taken by a greater purpose. She is now caught up in someone else’s greater, more powerful story – a pawn in the game of another.”

  Nate just shook his head. “And? You think that’s it? You think it’s over now? You’re talking like you’ve given up hope. Like no amount of magic in the world could change what you think is already going to happen. You talk of magic like it allows you to get the unlikely – to make the impossible real. Well, pardon me if I’m wrong,” he said forcefully, “But that doesn’t make any sense. If magic can make the impossible possible, then that thing wasn’t impossible to begin with.”

  Avery waved a hand at him. Her expression remained a picture of controlled yet edgy politeness. “You do not understand magic, mortal.”

  “No? Then maybe I don’t want to. In fact, there are only two things I want to understand right now and one of them is why someone mugged Ebony.”

  Whatever the second thing was, Nate didn’t say.

  Avery threw up her hands. “It doesn’t matter. My little Ebony needs to understand herself before she can try to understand the world.”

  “You think she should take a nice long walk in the woods and do a bit of self-reflection, while an unknown, unquantified power is out to get her? That’s madness—”

  “Your mundane human beliefs cannot match the reality of the magical—” her mother began.

  “Enough,” Ebony intervened with a heavy breath, “That’s enough.”

  Her thoughts tormented her, screaming in her mind like an unruly crowd.

  She had no idea what to do, no idea who to believe.

  She let out a desperate sigh, ready to melt onto the stairs and sit there with her head in her arms.

  Suddenly the staircase rattled, and a book tumbled down from above, coming to a rest at her feet with a thump.

  She knelt down and picked it up, hardly aware of the people around her any more.

  It was a book on adventure – some kind of novel or something. The cover was bright, colorful, and exciting.

  “This store is a danger,” Nate said from behind her.

  “Harry,” her father admonished, “You trying to get us all killed?”

  “This store has always been irreverent, uncontrolled, and mischievous,” Avery noted, staring around at the shop.

  Ebony ignored them all. She picked up the book and turned to the first chapter. It was titled, “To Boldly Go.” She ran a hand over the words, the paper old but still smooth.

  “What are we going to do, Ebony?” Nate asked from behind her. “Time’s ticking. We really need to find out what’s going on.”

  “You need to withdraw,” her mother’s voice was keen, but th
e edge of anger was lost. “You need to find out what you really want, before you try to face the rest of this.”

  “Eb,” her father’s voice was gruff, “Is that a cut on your arm? You should really get that looked at.”

  Ebony turned to a random page in the book. She glanced down at the contents. The heroine of the story was in some kind of trouble, she read. There was action, movement, and energy.

  She flicked to another page later on, eyes scanning it quickly. Now the heroine was undergoing some great trial, some epic task that required strength, determination, and guts.

  Ebony kept flicking on.

  “Hey, Ebony, are you listening to me?” Nate said from behind.

  “Stop being distracted, child,” her mother admonished. “You must concentrate, this is critically important.”

  Now the heroine was up against the greatest imaginable force – perilous and unimaginably dangerous.

  But no matter how far she flicked through this strange book, Ebony couldn’t find out what the plot was. The heroine fought things – faced off against dangers, but didn’t appear to do it for any great purpose. She had no idea why the lead character was doing any of the things she did. The book simply concentrated on the how: the determination, the courage, the steel, the concentration.

  “Ebony,” her mother’s voice was now pitching high, like a kettle at the boil, “Put that book down and face the situation like a witch.”

  Ebony closed the book with a snap and tucked it under her arm.

  Everyone wanted to tell Ebony something, whether it was that she was treating this situation too lightly, or what to do to fix it.

  Everyone had their own opinion.

  And here was Harry’s: an adventure book, with, ironically, a heroine who didn’t appear to have any purpose. But it didn’t matter for the arc of the story – it moved on and she moved on, simply by virtue of feeling.

  In the absence of purpose – courage, determination, steel, and guts would to do the trick.

  Harry, unlike everyone else in the room, wasn’t trying to tell Ebony what to do. He wasn’t suggesting she do the impossible – find out what she truly wanted with a snap of her fingers or throw herself into finding out who was after her, without a care for her true problem.

  Harry was suggesting she go ahead and act. No, she couldn’t see far enough into the future to know what she should be doing. And no, she didn’t have any magic to try to force her way through.

  All she had were the same things the heroine in Harry’s story had – the courage to dare and the will to act. Acting on what didn’t matter now.

  “Ebony,” her mother’s voice was pleading, “Pay attention to what is really happening here. I don’t know why the Coven made the decision it did. I am part of it, but not all of it,” she said, her voice growing quiet. “I can’t speak for the rationale of the other members. But I can speak with the understanding of a witch. Things are happening to you in too quick a succession and with too much danger to be ignored. You must wake up to this—”

  Ebony tapped the book again.

  “Ebony,” Nate’s voice almost had the same edge of pleading Avery’s had, “We have to figure out what to do. We can’t just stand here all night.”

  Okay, Harry, Ebony thought to herself, reaching out a hand and tapping the banister. You’re on.

  “I think,” she spoke, book still in hand, “There’s more to Cecilia Grimshore than meets the eye.”

  Her mother sighed. “This again? You must find out what you want—”

  Ebony put up a hand. “Maybe you’re right – maybe I don’t know what that is right now. But maybe Nate’s right too, and that doesn’t matter. But maybe Harry’s just as right as the both of you,” she tapped the book again, “And all I should do is press on and try and find out both things at once.”

  Before either Avery or Nate could start up again, her father cut in. “What are you thinking, kid?”

  “I’m thinking there is a box of files in the cold case section that reads Grimshore. I’m thinking those files pertain to magical crime, and I’m thinking that’s important.”

  “But—” her mother began.

  “I’m thinking I’m going to stay in the shop for a while, just until I know what’s going on. Harry’s strong enough to protect me.”

  As if in answer, a breeze fluttered the ends of Ebony’s hair, almost appreciatively.

  “I’m thinking I’m going to go to the police station tomorrow morning, even though it’s a Saturday, and I’m going to go through those files, one by one.”

  “But we need to find out who is after you,” Nate began.

  “Probably. But this is how I’m going to do it – bed and then files. I’m also thinking,” she took a long breath, “That this conversation is now done.”

  And the thought proved to be a reality.