Witch's Bell Book One

  Chapter 19

  She needed a plan, and she needed one right now. About twenty cops and wizards were about to burst through her door, if they could get past Harry, and then… they’d likely do something.

  That was the thing – she had no idea what they wanted. She could guess, considering the general lamentable theme of her day, they didn’t want to invite her out to tea. Likely, the Grimshores had ramped up their curse, and were getting ready to punish Ebony further.

  All she hoped, all she could possibly wish for right now, was that Harry’s magic would hold. She wasn’t kidding when she said he’d been a powerful wizard and that he still retained the majority of that power. In his day, Harry Horseshoe had been a force to reckon with. And he still was. He just had more heavy books and sharp bits of wood to do the reckoning with.

  It was a very good sign they hadn’t broken in yet. It meant Harry could handle them. But, get a gaggle of wizards on her doorstep, all casting fire-spells at the shop, and even Harry might start to sweat.

  “Harry,” Ebony said in a full voice, knowing Harry wouldn’t let the sound carry outside to alert the police, “What are we meant to do now?”

  “Blast the trumps off the blasted pavement,” Harry boomed in his crackly voice.

  Ebony gasped, shocked by his sudden use of his voice. He hardly ever talked to her. In the several years she’d owned this store, Harry had only mumbled at her a handful of times and only when there was some pressing maintenance issue.

  Now his voice was as loud, present, and dusty as the rest of the store. “Ebony, there’s powerful magic in the air – clinging to you like a cloud.”

  “I know, Harry, I know.” She brushed her arms compulsively.

  “Then lets blast it away,” he said, his voice as gruff and grating as wood splintering from a shotgun round.

  Though Ebony had seldom heard him speak, she knew from experience Harry liked the term blast almost as much as comic books liked the word blam. During his adventures as a wizard in the ‘20s, Harry Horseshoe had come up against some seriously powerful and hideous creatures. And all in the name of writing a good book, or retrieving an important tome – he’d “Blast the trotters away!” as he’d put it.

  “How?” Ebony sighed, always keeping an ear out for the front door below. She hoped they at least had some time to plan. She didn’t fancy everyone bursting in during her think-tank session. She’d be able to throw a couple of books and cushions at them from over the staircase railing, but that would be the limit of her strategy and defenses. “Do we even have any time?”

  “Ha!” he roared, every light-fitting shaking as if a bolt of thunder had rung out nearby. “They’re going to have to try a lot harder to get in here. These new young wizards aren’t like us oldies, Ebony. They’re soft and silly.”

  Ebony, beside herself, giggled. If the bikies outside were soft, then Ebony couldn’t imagine what was hard. “So, you can hold-out?”

  “Hold-out?” he rumbled back. “I can stand against a whole fleet of them, a whole army. Don’t you worry, Ebony. I’ve made friends with most of the buildings along this street—”

  Ebony’s frown deepened. “You have? But they don’t have spirits inside? And how did you even make it out of the building?”

  “Don’t interrupt, girl, I’m sharing important information for our plan. If I want to, I can pull this whole street out from under their plastic little boots. I’d like to see them cast fireballs at me while they’re tumbling around in the sewers.”

  Still brimming with nervous energy, she walked over to the kettle by the wall and flicked it on.

  She could do with a cup of tea.

  “Are you making yourself a cup of tea, girl? At a time like this?”

  She shrugged.

  “Excellent idea. Put some gin in it. And tip one through the floorboards for me – always good to have a bit of Dutch courage on board your boards before a bit of a barney.”

  Ebony smiled, still nervous, but unbelievably happy to just stand here and listen to Harry’s blustering. He was on her side. He was really on her side. And while she couldn’t say their relationship was always smooth, she knew he was there for her. They’d get in fights, he’d hurl books her way – but none of that mattered, because deep down he cared for her. It wasn’t the kind of relationship Ebony was used to – with adoration and pleasantries – but considering all her other friends now thought she was the most terrible criminal in the whole world it was the only relationship that mattered any more.

  Witch, or former witch, and her magical bookstore.

  “You go ahead and put mostly gin in mine,” Harry added, “With only a dash of tea. I’m going to need it to think.”

  As Ebony pottered around, grabbing mugs and tea bags from under the bench, she kept taking stuttering breaths. She couldn’t help it. Her breath spluttered along like a car about to die; or rather, an old wagon protesting at the sight of a hill. Could she make it, or end up getting half-way there only to roll back down to crash fantastically and die in burning flames?

  “Alright, you can stop sounding like that, girl,” Harry gave her a bump from the floorboards. “It’s courage time.”

  “Courage?” She grabbed Harry’s tea and poured it down one of the prodigious cracks in the floor. A strange gulping sound met her ears, and not a drop of liquid remained on the floorboards once she was done. “What does it matter? I mean, I don’t have any magic, Harry, nothing. What am I meant to do? I was planning on coming back here, finding a book about the Grimshores,” she shuddered as she said the word, looking over her shoulder automatically in case they rappelled through the windows and shot her point-blank. “And maybe using it to vindicate myself. But we’re past that! So very past that,” she said dejectedly as she took a draft of hot tea. “It was horrible, Harry,” she added after a dreary moment, finally realizing Harry probably had no idea what she was talking about. He could sense the magic in the air and appreciate that the police were rudely trying to break-in, but he wouldn’t know the extent of this horrible situation.

  “Ah yes. No need to explain, girl, I know what’s going on. I’m connected to you, Ebony Bell, you are my charge. I am also a powerful wizard.” The blinds shook and a wizard outside yelped, no doubt as a shard of wood exploded from Harry’s door like a woody exclamation point. “I have been in Vale for so many years. I have been with you for many years too. I know a powerful spell when I smell one, and there’s one lingering above you like a cloud of flies. There’s a curse drawing you into it, and it’s getting my goat.”

  “But what is it, Harry, and why are they doing this?” She took a deep breath and groaned right through it. “Who are the Grimshores, and what do they want with me?”

  “Start from the beginning, girl. What do we know about them? Where did you first meet, when did this whole business begin? If we start this story at the beginning, Ebony, we’re far more likely to make sense of our present. And,” he let out a rollicking laugh, “We’ll have a sporting chance of blasting their ending out of the water and replacing it with our own!”

  She smiled, though it was hardly exuberant. She was thankful Harry was here to protect her and raise her spirits. But even he couldn’t stop her from dwelling on the world-of-horrible crushing her life. “The beginning…. Okay, I guess it started in the crypt. A man had kidnapped a woman and was calling Death—”

  “Kidnapped, Ebony, are you sure?” Harry cleared his throat, wherever that might be. “Or is this your interpretation of events? I’m not asking you to paraphrase here, I’m asking you to tell me exactly what happened and when.”

  She scratched the back of her neck. “Okay. Exactly what happened? I walked into that crypt and managed to break through the little protection it had far too easily. I became worried that other creatures were pressing in on the place, waiting to gobble up the magic and the man inside. So I convinced myself that I couldn’t do any magic – not with what was lurking all around us. To do so would only increase the risk.”
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  “Entirely possible, Ebony,” Harry agreed. “Entirely possible,” he repeated ominously. “People these days do not appreciate the true risk of magic. They appreciate only power, the fools. You did the right thing, child. You wouldn’t have caught me performing magic in that environment. It would be like covering yourself in chicken’s blood and jumping into a tank full of hungry sharks.”

  Her smile grew a fraction wider. Finally, someone who not only believed in Ebony’s version of events, but agreed with what she’d done. If only she’d bothered to confide in Harry earlier, maybe she wouldn’t have had such a rough time these past several weeks. “The man had a book in his hands,” she continued. “And, Harry, the darn thing had a picture of a family crest on the front.” She took a sharp breath. “I realize now that it was the Grimshore family crest.”

  “Ah,” Harry said, his voice trilling. “Interesting.”

  “I saw a picture of the crest in the magical files at the station. But I didn’t recognize it at first. I couldn’t recognize it.” She scratched her arms.

  “This is important, very important. But go on, Ebony, get to the end, so we can hurry up and rewrite it.”

  “The man was close to consummating the spell. He only needed the flesh from the corpse.” She shuddered.

  “Indeed, the flesh would have given the spell power. It would have sapped the Truth and Meaning from the corpse’s life and transferred them to the spell. Powerful, dark stuff.”

  “Well he couldn’t get to the corpse with me in the room, so he went for blood instead. He moved toward the woman,” Ebony’s voice trailed off as she tried to remember the precise series of events. Had the man actually ever threatened the woman? Or was Ebony only adding those details in now?

  “Are you sure, do you remember that exactly?”

  “I don’t know….” She took a rattling sniff. “I fought the man though, because I thought he was aiming for the woman. I managed to get the book out of his hands,” her skin began to prickle, “And just as I did, the woman screamed right in my ear, Harry, and it distracted me. That’s when the guy managed to slash me.” She cupped her injured arm.

  “Where did the blood go, Ebony?” Harry’s voice was subdued. “Did you see it afterward? Did you clean it up with your own hands?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t have time. The Coven got me just as everything settled down. And then,” she raised her wrists and tapped her bracelets, “These.”

  Harry was silent. “Who retrieved the book?” he asked with a snap.

  Ebony gulped, suddenly feeling very cold indeed. “No one. When I asked Nate, he claimed he didn’t know what I was talking about.”

  “What?” Harry spat, the floor shaking beneath her feet. “You left it there?!”

  “Not me, Harry,” she protested. “I woke up in a hospital bed the next day, and people told me it had been sorted. Ben assured me the Coven had solved everything, that the case was done and dusted. And I just….”

  “Forgot about it?”

  “I had other things to deal with.” She croaked through a laugh. “I didn’t imagine the book hadn’t been retrieved, that the spell hadn’t been repealed.”

  Harry grumbled, several bookcases wobbling. “I think we have our answer, Ebony.”

  She resisted the urge to sink through the floor and bury her head in her arms. “You don’t think…”

  “That your blood got on the book and consummated the spell? That’s precisely what I think. It would account for what is happening to you now. Your life, your story, is being rewritten – deleted, destroyed. And in its place, the Grimshores grow stronger.”

  Ebony didn’t breathe for a long while and suddenly sucked in a gasp. “But, but, Harry, those files in the police station suggested that the Grimshores have been untouchable for years – for almost a century! No matter what’s happening to me now, I can’t account for that.”

  “It just means they’ve done it before, Ebony, and they’ve probably had help. You wouldn’t be the first unfortunate soul that has given over their life so the Grimshores can write themselves a wonderful future. And unless we can stop this, you won’t be the last. I’ve seen it before, you know, spells like this – Families that maintain their grip on power through various illegal, inhumane, and thoroughly dark magical rites. And this is Vale, Ebony. If it was going to happen anywhere, it would happen here.”

  “But, Harry, isn’t this huge? I mean, the Grimshores own most of Vale, and if those files are anything to go by, they’ve had this strangle-hold for years. With magic like this backing them up, wouldn’t the witches and wizards have gotten wind of it?”

  Harry was silent for just a second. “You put too much faith in them, you know. Just because the Coven and the Council of Wizards purport to regulate magic, it doesn’t mean much. Power and position do not eliminate corruption, Ebony, only Truth does. Now, can you tell me with total confidence that you know the truth of your Coven? Do you know their ways, their plans, their desires?”

  She shook her head. Her mother’s face came to mind. The crackling power, the wild hair, the dazzling skin.

  “All you know is they have the power, and they’ll do anything to keep it. And this, Ebony, can be said about all ruling-bodies – the wizards and magicians too. You mark my words. It is absolutely not impossible that a powerful witch or wizard knows of the Grimshore spell and even aids them as we speak.”

  Her heart sank. “Oh no… Harry, what do we do then? What happens now? I mean, if it’s true, and my story is being taken over by the Grimshores, then how do I get away? Won’t it simply continue taking away my life?”

  “There are ways and means, dear, there always are. Nothing is over until the book closes.”

  “But Harry, I don’t get it… why is everyone turning against me? I understand that the spell is taking over my life.” Ebony paused, a sharp memory of Nate grabbing her wrist and snapping at her to get out coming to mind. “But why is it working like this?” She gestured toward the front of the store. “What’s the use of having everyone attack me? Why does everyone hate me?”

  “The spell is directed toward the Grimshores and away from you, dear. It is a funnel connecting your life, your history, your soul to them. It also protects itself from any attempt to be destroyed. Tell me, when did you know for sure that this spell was taking effect?”

  “When… when I realized I couldn’t talk against the Grimshores.”

  “Are you sure? What about the mugging last night?” One of the upstairs blinds rattled.

  Ebony sucked air through her teeth. “Just before I left work last night, I found a box about the Grimshores. It made me remember about the case.” She shook her head. “It was after that I was mugged.”

  “My guess is, child, that the Grimshores were trying get a hold of you,” Harry grumbled, “The blighters,” he added for good measure.

  “But they’ve had ample time to try. So why now? And if they have the book, then why not consummate the spell completely?” She raised her hands to the sky. “It doesn’t make sense. Why draw this out? Why attack me so slowly?”

  “Perhaps they don’t have it.”

  “Don’t have what?” she huffed.

  “The book. Perhaps they don’t have it. Perhaps that’s why they chose to rewrite you so slowly and painfully. Because perhaps they have no other choice.”

  She shook her head, thoroughly confused. “Why wouldn’t they have the book? It was their spell, after all.”

  “Perhaps someone else does, child. We can’t say for sure. It’s simply a hunch, but it’s a strong one. I’d wager that if the book were in their possession, you would be gone from history now, Ebony Bell.”

  She closed her eyes tightly.

  “So the spell is gathering slowly – faster, now that you have brought attention to it, tried to act against the Grimshores – but still, the spell is incomplete.”

  “So I’m in limbo, then.” She swallowed. “The more I act against the spell and the Grimshores, the
more my life will be rewritten. The more people will turn against me.” She sighed, thinking of the welcome kindness Mohammed had showed her. The more she spoke-out, though, the less friends she’d have. Soon all of Vale would be after her….

  “Limbo? You are in my store. Get a grip, girl! And no, there is always something you can do. It is the rule of life. Movement and action are ever present.”

  “What then, what do I do?”

  “Think,” he trilled. “Think wide, think deep – think better than they do, and we’ll win this.”

  Ebony pressed her lips into the barest, thinnest, tiniest smile she could manage. “I doubt thinking is going to stop the police from bashing down my door, or my life from being rewritten….”

  “Ha!” He chortled, the stairs rattling. “Thinking is all you have. Thinking comes before magic, girl, you know that. Without it, magic is nothing. It is the random, the chaotic, and the unmanageable. But with the right thought, magic becomes power. If we think better than them, we become more powerful than them. And if we have more power, we can reverse this spell. We can stop them from rewriting you, and start rewriting them. Trust me, it always works on dragons.”

  The sound of more sirens blared from outside, and Ebony looked over her shoulder to stare in their direction, even though she couldn’t see through the blinds. “What do they want, Harry?”

  “Ah. That would be what came in the post. It’s downstairs.”

  She shook her head. “What do you mean? What came in the post? And why didn’t you tell me earlier?!”

  “Because we’re planning, Ebony, and planning can’t be interrupted for post.”

  She took the stairs heavily, mug bouncing around in her hand, shedding little droplets of tea this way and that.

  Though she knew Harry would last against the horde trying to break down his door, Ebony still walked carefully toward the front of the shop.

  The post arrived twice a day: in the morning and in the afternoon. But never on the weekend. And today was Saturday.

  When Ebony wasn’t there, Harry usually just let the postman in and made some general noises from upstairs to pretend someone was home. Who knows, he probably even imitated her voice and called to the postman to “put the blasting post on the bench, you trotters.”

  But today was Saturday….

  She warily walked up to the counter and the box that was sitting there. She didn’t like this. Harry accepting post on the weekend…. “Harry, what were you doing letting the postman in on the weekend?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t the postman. It was a courier,” he said more importantly.

  “Do they work on the weekends?” she commented offhand as she kept making her way carefully toward the box.

  “I imagine so. They are important, you know. Hand people far more important post than the postman,” he said, derision obvious.

  “Okay. What do you think it is?” She snatched the scissors by the counter, cutting at the packing tape with quick, expert movements.

  “Oh, something magical. I can feel it.”

  “But if you know it’s something magical and you know the police and wizards are after it, why did you let it in?!”

  “Ebony,” he said, the blinds ruffling with a puff, “I didn’t know the police wanted it at the time. They came later, with those wretched little nancy wizards. I thought it was just some book from one of your suppliers.”

  Ebony opened the package. Inside wasn’t a book, that was for sure. It was a pouch of Wizard Gold.

  Wizard Gold wasn’t like the ordinary stuff. It wasn’t shiny and pretty, and you certainly wouldn’t be making rings out of it. It was black, sooty, and looked like coal. It was a powerful alchemical substance that could be used to turn any metal into gold. With the right incantations and a pinch of this black stuff, a trained wizard could turn a handful of iron ore into a gold ingot.

  It was, obviously, incredibly valuable. It was the equivalent of having your own fully functional money-machine.

  “Ah, Harry,” she said, her voice shaking, “This isn’t a book.”

  Harry had grown momentarily silent. Suddenly, all the books sitting on the counter gave a tremendous flutter. “Gadzooks,” Harry said, very seriously.

  “Something like that.” Ebony bit into her hand, pushing the package away from her. “I didn’t order this,” she said weakly.

  “Yha! They would never have given it to you! That stuff is regulated by the International Wizard Bank. They have inflation to think about, you know.”

  “No wonder they’re trying to break down my door.” She leaned on the bench and took heavy breaths, the desperation of the situation spiraling around her again.

  “Calm down, child.”

  “Calm down? Where are these even from?” she spluttered back.

  “Oh, only place in Vale registered to print gold is Praytors.”

  “Praytors!” Ebony replied, her voice catching. “But there was a break-in there only this morning!”

  “Well then, I fancy we’ve just found out what was stolen.” The books by Ebony all fluttered closed with a snap.

  “This is terrible.” She groaned, head collapsing on the bench. “What are we meant to do now? That’s why those wizards are outside and the police. But how did they know? I mean,” she straightened up for a second, “Maybe they know it was posted here, but they don’t actually think that I’m responsible.” She patted her chest, her hands a little floppy. “So I can just open the door and give it to them, and everything will—”

  “Blow up in your face like TNT in your pocket. Are you mad? Have you learned nothing about today? Do you really think those wizards are just knocking politely to have their stuff returned? Get wise, girl, this is all part of the Grimshore curse. Mark my words, they not only think you are responsible and will gloss over the fact that the Gold was patently posted to you – they will drag you off to prison and likely bring back witch-death by burning.”

  Ebony shuddered. “Harry, that’s awful!”

  “Ha, you need to be shocked into paying attention, my dear. So that was the shock. Don’t you go opening the door, all conciliatory and pathetic. They aren’t going to listen to you! All their reason has been sucked up by the Grimshore spell. They all think you are guilty as a scheming dragon. You’ve been rewritten to them, remember? Nope, as long as the Grimshore spell is taking effect, you won’t be able to trust a soul. And the only way to deal with those Grimshores is a good blasting.” The floor trembled, as if with laughter.

  “I guess.” She turned away from the door and settled her gaze on the recently-stolen Wizard Gold in front of her. “That’s a good point. But, what now?”

  “Hmm, thinking, always thinking. We’ve got to think ahead, before we can act ahead. So, get in your head and start thinking!”

  About what? About this situation? About Nate – about the impossible, awful, intolerable, nastiness of it all?

  “Constructive thoughts!” Harry bellowed. “Not that poor-me crap!”

  “Harry,” Ebony said with a shake, “Can you read my mind?”

  “No, but you are predictable. So, here’s a tip: stop being so blasted predictable, and start being creative. Stop running from everything that’s going on, or blundering around like a drunken miner in the dark, and start digging for diamonds, girl!”

  “I’m not blundering around,” she said, her voice barely defensive, because she patently knew she’d been blundering for most of her life. Considering how things were working out for her, she might as well change her name to Blundering Bell.

  “Yes you are. And it stops here. Ebony Bell, you are being rewritten. But you, witch, know that such a thing cannot happen to a person of strong will. If you have purpose, if you have direction, you cannot be diverted off course. You have let your own story dwindle and left the door open for another to acquire your rights to life. So we must reverse this. We must give you back what you should never have left to dwindle. Seize back your purpose, girl. Seize back your story!”

&n
bsp; “How, Harry?” she asked dejectedly.

  “Simple. What do you want? Answer that, believe in it with all your heart, and you will have your story back.”

  There was that question again. It seemed everyone these past several days had been asking Ebony what she wanted. Now the question was different – sharper, more in focus – quite possibly because the situation was dire. Ebony stood on the edge of a cliff, a sword pointing into her neck and a tremendous plunge waiting before her. That tended to focus things. She couldn’t ignore the question any more. She couldn’t ignore anything anymore. Because if she did, and she ignored the right things and latched onto the wrong things, these would be Ebony Bell’s last actions.

  “Are you done thinking yet?” Harry interrupted impatiently. “Because there’s no point in thinking unless it has quality.”

  “Quality?” She kept staring down at the Gold. “Surely all thought has the same quality – insubstantial cloudy stuff between your right and left ears.”

  “Same quality? Are you mad? You can have deep thoughts, long thoughts, inclusive thoughts, exclusive thoughts, peripheral thoughts, happy thoughts, and grave thoughts. Why, you have a world of thoughts. But what you really want are the right thoughts.”

  “So now I have to figure out what I really want, and I have to have only the right thoughts.” She sighed so deeply it felt as if she was trying to rid herself of a lifetime of tension – trying, but failing. “This is a lot to do before the Law bounces down the door and drags me off to the stake.”

  “Oh, stop being despondent; it’s frankly irritating. Really, girl, hasn’t anyone ever taught you how to want, let alone think? You’re a witch! Surely these are at the very base of your skill and discipline.”

  Ebony let out a tiny little laugh. “No one ever teaches you how to think, Harry. This isn’t the ‘20s. We don’t try to formalize things like that, and it’s just nonsense to believe you can.”

  “Nonsense! How ripe! Why little Ebony, I was taught from birth to death how to think and want!”

  “Oh yes.” She kept staring down at the Gold. “And who taught you? Did you apply for a course at the local college? Or did you see an advert in the paper and send away for a book of lessons?” She rolled her eyes.

  “No, you little trotter, the world taught me. Really, getting to your age and having no idea how to learn things! What exactly have you been doing with your life?”

  She huffed. She was starting to get annoyed. It was rising in her like a hot steam off a boiling pool. It was making her skin hot and itchy and her cheeks red and raw. She was starting to get sick of this stupid question. Why did people keep asking it! As if they knew the answers themselves! She felt like they were all lording it over her, as if the world, all her friends, and all her family had the answers to the test Ebony had forgotten to study for.

  “I don’t know, Harry,” she snapped. “Maybe you should just hurry up and tell me!”

  “Tell you!” his voice trembled with anger. “What impertinence!”

  “Harry!” her voice arced up. “I can’t take much more of this! There’s a horde of police and wizards trying to break down my door! I’ve lost my job, my magic, and my life! The Grimshores are rewriting my life so they can maintain their hold on Vale! I can’t just stand around and think like this, I have to—”

  “Ah, there you go, still can’t think. Still don’t know what you want—”

  “I want you to shut up!” she shot back, her voice exploding in a sudden rush. “I want this situation to end – no,” she said suddenly, “I want to end this situation. I want my magic back. I want my friends back. I want to lift this curse, arrest the Grimshores, and reverse any damage they’ve done. I want… I want… I want Nate. I don’t want him to be evil. I want it all to be a mistake. I want—”

  “You want him?!” Harry’s voice was incredulous. “Yuck! I knew he was trouble the first time I laid eyes on him. He’s so annoying! So righteous and bland. He also has a secret, Ebony. I can smell it on him. Something big. I just knew I had to keep you two apart—”

  “So that’s why you kept trying to kill him?” Ebony crossed her arms.

  “Ha, that and I just liked to see his alarmed little eyes. Reminds me of a gorilla, that one – a slow, dumb gorilla.”

  “He’s not dumb. He’s… different. But it doesn’t matter,” Ebony took a started, sudden breath. “Because I want him.” She reached down and picked up the pen, twisting it around in her hand. “I want to be me, Harry. I want to be Ebony Bell. I want to live the life I want every single day. I want to potter in my shop, and return home to a hot dinner, a hot detective, and hot—”

  “Don’t you finish that sentence,” he cut in.

  “Showers,” she supplied with a shake of her head. “I wouldn’t really change much.” She brushed her hand along the counter top. “Just the little details.”

  “Oh no, you’d be changing everything – because you’d want it now. Very different that. Knowing you want what you have stops you from looking for what you don’t want and ignoring your blessings for the pursuit of curses. Any wizard knows that. Except for those hairy little louts outside. I bet all they know is how to cuddle cushions and plait their beards.”

  Ebony chuckled softly. “Right.” She stopped herself with a stage blink. Gosh, she was turning into Nate – throwing rights out left, right, and center.

  But it was odd, very odd. Ebony felt different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, couldn’t point to a specific sensation in her stomach, or a tickle along the back of her shoulders. It was just different somehow. It was like her center of gravity had shifted ever so slightly, her feet planted just a fraction more solidly on the ground.

  All she’d said was she wanted roughly what she already had, but with certain embellishments in the Romance Department. That, and the right to continue living the life she wanted even when those wants changed. If she woke up tomorrow and wanted to explore the Amazon rainforest, she wanted to be able to follow that want just as much as any other.

  “Ha!” Ebony suddenly let out an explosive laugh. It was just as that little old dear had said the other night, when she’d come in proselytizing and handing out pamphlets. The secret wasn’t in the thing you wanted – it was in the wanting itself.

  The right to want, the freedom to will – whatever you wanted to call it – that was what it was all about. It didn’t matter what you wanted – whether it was a truck full of chocolate, or a hot air balloon made out of pants – the magic was in the will directed, never the object intended.

  Things started to click into place like a puzzle spontaneously solving itself.

  “Ohh,” Harry gave the blinds a bit of a flutter, “Now we’re talking magic. I can feel it in you, Ebony, feel it crackling away in your bones like a fire in dry brush.”

  Ebony looked down at her hands, then at her bracelets. “What are you talking about, Harry? I don’t have any magic any more, they took it away, remember?”

  “Ha!” A book exploded open with a rush. “Take magic away? I’d like to see them try. They can’t take away your magic, Ebony! They can only contain it. No one can reach into your soul and take what’s rightfully yours. Magic isn’t some fancy ring, a catchphrase, or a special element zapping around in your blood. It can’t be removed and taken somewhere else. It’s a part you, Ebony, as much a part of you as your name, your identity, and your whole.”

  Now that she’d taken the time to think, Ebony realized with a pained sigh, that Harry was right. Magic wasn’t something you could steal from someone else, stash in your sack, and run away with. If it’s there, it just means the person can understand and interact with the world differently. It doesn’t mean they have some kind of extra juice circulating in their veins.

  “They’re just like dams, Ebony.” Harry let a soft breeze shoot through the room. “Those bracelets hold back the tide of your magic, like walls holding back a crowd.”

  She kept staring at her hands. So, all she needed was to bre
ak the wall. But how? These were given to her by the Coven, for crying out loud, and they had more power combined than Ebony could ever dream of.

  “Oh, it’s not going to be easy, but you’ll figure it out.” the closed-sign over the door moved as if it was nodding. “I know you will.”

  Ebony bit her lip. Things were starting to come together, in the oddest and most curious of ways. Still, things were swelling. It was like watching the clouds gather before a storm. Everything she needed, or seemed to be lacking, was slowly drawing together in the same place. She now knew what she wanted, and the vague beginnings of a plan were poking their way through the darkness.

  She was going to end this situation, rather than the situation finding a way to end her. She was going to lift this Grimshore spell, drag the rotters to prison, get back her friends, find a way to grow her magic until she could break through her bracelets – and then, well, she was going to win Nate, even though that sounded like something the hero from a ‘50s B-grade horror film would be trying to do. But it was true. She wanted to fight off the bad guys and win the guy.

  Clichés aside, she would do this.