Witch's Bell Book One

  Chapter 4

  Ebony drew the brush through her hair. It ran as smooth and quick as a flag through the air. There had never once been a knot in Ebony Elizabeth Bell’s hair, and heaven forbid there ever would be. She only ever brushed it to liven it up – to give it bounce, body, and to remind it of its magical roots.

  She hummed to herself as she picked a pair of earrings off her dressing table. They were silver dangling things, with beautiful blue stones that sparkled like stars on a dark night. Once she’d finished hooking the earrings in, she selected three bracelets and crammed them over her wrists. They were all golden, gleeful, and just so pretty.

  Still humming, her hand hovered over her collection of rings as she wondered which to choose. Rings were always difficult accessories, especially for a witch. The problem with rings was they were, well, ring like. They were circles. Circles were powerful symbols for witches. Circles magnified, concentrated, and strengthened anything that lay at their center. While a bangle was technically a circle, and for that reason also had its power – rings were worse. They were worse because of where you wore them – on your fingers. And fingers could point. A point was like a circle – it concentrated, it restricted. It magnified. So a ring worn on a finger was a powerful thing indeed, especially considering which finger you chose to wear it on.

  Ebony sighed, deciding not to wear a ring at all today. It was too hard, and anyhow, she hadn’t even begun to decide what outfit to wear, and it was already 10:30!

  Though most people chose what to wear before they picked which accessories could match it, she always did things the other way around. She picked her accessories first and then her clothes last. Why? Because Ebony changed accessories depending on her moods, not her tops.

  “Now, now, now,” she said softly as she walked into her walk-in wardrobe. “What kind of day will today be?” she asked a pair of jeans as she ran a hand over the tough fabric. “Is today a jeans day? Will I be sitting down at restaurants and walking in the rain?” She pointed over to a pair of cowboy boots. “Will I be stalking down the street, hair flaring behind me?” She tugged at a ‘50s-style red dress. “Will I be posing on the tops of stairs?” She grabbed a white hat. “Will I be staring melancholy as the rain drizzles down the window?”

  She giggled. By far, this was her favorite part of the day: dressing up. Her father never could understand why she always took so long to get ready in the morning. He’d always have a shower, slap on his uniform, tug his hat over his hair, kiss Ebony’s mother, and walk out the door.

  Ebony, on the other hand, sometimes took a full hour to decide what to wear and how to do her hair and make-up. Only her mother understood why. A witch had to be careful how she met the day in the morning. Wear a floral dress, and don’t be surprised if someone gives you flowers. Wear winter boots in summer, and don’t be surprised if it rains all day. Go to breakfast in an evening gown, and you should expect someone to run past and dump a cocktail in your hands.

  She always had to be careful what she wore. So it was quite lucky she had such a vast collection of clothes to choose from.

  “Okay.” She ran a hand down her face. “What do I have to do today?” she asked her assembled collection, playing with the bangles around her wrists. “Well, I have to go to the post office to buy more tough bags for the store – I also need more pens.” She ticked something off her imaginary list using her French manicured pinkie. “Then I have to go to Wonda’s Witch Wonders and buy more candles for Friday’s séance.” Ebony looped her long hair around her hands, lifting it up off her neck and letting it fall down again softly. “Then I have all those files to look through for Ben.” She ran a hand through her rack of dresses. “Then I have to go down to the police depot and remove curses from all that jewelry.”

  She nodded. “Okay, that’s it. Well, it’s really simple then, isn’t it? I have just too much to do today, and I just don’t want to be bothered by anyone when I’m just so busy.” She clicked her fingers. “So I simply must wear white.”

  She grabbed a pretty, pure-white summer’s dress. It was a light, but thankfully opaque, cotton. The shoulders were tied into bows at the neck. It pinched in at the waist and flared out at the hips.

  She also grabbed a pair of white high-heels – not too tall, but not too short.

  Finally, she grabbed the white hat from before – the one with the wide, but stiff, brim.

  Now she knew how to meet the day, Ebony dressed quickly and was out the door in less than five minutes.

  “Ah ha!” she said as she closed and locked the door behind her. “Wear a summer’s dress, and invite in the sunshine,” she said, her face angled up to the perfect blue sky above.

  It was a dazzling day. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, and the sky was a bright shade of azure blue. The slightest breeze gently moved the leaves on the trees and played against the tips of Ebony’s loose hair. The background hum of insects was in the air, and there was such a pleasant hush to things, she felt like she was off in the country somewhere – not smack bang in the middle of a city.

  Ebony gave a happy sigh as she walked along the street, her heels clicking softly against the pavement.

  She made quick time to the post office. The day simply moved around her – not dragging or sticking, like some days did – but gliding gracefully like a bird on the wing.

  “You’re in luck,” one of the post-office-workers declared as Ebony walked in, “Bob was late this morning and still hasn’t delivered to your shop. We can have him deliver these postbags and pens to you, if you’d like?”

  “Hmm,” she smiled appreciatively, “You mean rather than have to walk two boxes back to my shop, you can have someone else actually drive them there? Well,” she said, beaming at the man, “I think that would be lovely.”

  “Okay then.” The old man tipped his hat at her in a gentlemanly fashion. “You have a nice day there.”

  Ebony waved at him as she left the shop. “Oh,” she touched the rim of her hat, adding a wink, “I think I will.”

  By the time she made it back to her shop, she was literally shining. It was just such a nice day. Everything was going right – the sun was bright, birds were singing, people were smiling. It was almost the type of day where nothing could go wrong.

  Almost.

  Ebony announced a cheerful, “Good morning,” to her store as she opened the door. It replied with a warm silence, dust motes drifting through the bright sunlight shining through the open door.

  “It’s going to be a good day today, Harry,” she said as she walked behind the counter, retrieving a file she left there. “All I have to do is look through these files for Ben, do a tiny little bit of work down at the depot,” she patted the counter, “And then I’m free. To do what?” she continued the one-sided conversation with just as much engagement and passion as she would with an ordinary person. “I simply don’t know. I might just go down to the Turkish take away, grab a bag of pastries and Turkish delight, and go and catch a movie.”

  She bit her bottom lip lightly, securing the file under her arm. “But for now, I bid you adieu.” Ebony winked, grabbed a candy from the glass bowl on her counter, and walked back out of her store. While she could easily stay there and complete her work, leaving her store open for the rare customer who might walk in, she simply had to get out today. She had to sit at a nice cafe somewhere and stare at all the happy people from over the rim of her chocolate milkshake.

  By the time she found a cafe she liked the look of, it was pushing past midday. She would spend an hour or so on these cases for Ben, then pick up her candles and finally head to the depot.

  A young handsome waiter handed Ebony her towering chocolate milkshake, a pressed-lipped grin on his face. “Here you go, ma’am,” he said softly. “A lovely drink for a lovely lady,” he added, widening his smile.

  “Hmm,” Ebony replied easily, “Aren’t we charming,” she flashed him a mysterious wink and quickly sipped her ice-cold drink.

  When she was s
ure no one was paying her too much attention, she opened the file on the cast-iron table. Though she was never public about her work and was certain Ben would have a fit if he knew what she was doing, Ebony didn’t care today. She was always sure to cast a babbledegook spell over all her important documents. It ensured that if any non-magical person, or someone outside the confines of the Pact, saw the documents, all they’d see is a bunch of images and words that meant nothing at all. So what did it matter if she chose to read in the sun, rather than in her stuffy store?

  “Hmm,” Ebony ran a finger around the rim of her glass, collecting the excess chocolate sauce and popping it in her mouth, “What have we here?”

  There were seven or so cases in total, ranging from the innocent to the criminally bizarre. In one case, a university student had become too interested in some reproduction of a rare grimoire he’d found on the Internet, and he’d accidentally summoned a monkey-demon. The demon had quickly gotten out of his control, trashed his basement apartment, and escaped, only to be found later by police taunting the other monkeys at the zoo.

  The student in question had been brought in, given a warning, and had voluntarily agreed to have his future Internet searches filtered for potential accidental-zoological-summoning spells. The monkey had promptly been sent back from whence it had come, but only after it had managed to steal two police hats, one badge, four cups of coffee, and Ben’s lucky tie.

  Ebony giggled to herself. It was remarkable how much of the crime they dealt with was essentially random. Just accidents from people who had no idea what they were doing. They’d run into a spell on a chat room, buy a strange book from a store, or pick up cursed souvenirs from their overseas travels.

  By and large, they didn’t mean to do these things, and they certainly had no idea what magic was. It was all just accidental, which, while it was sometimes annoying, was better than the alternative. Accidents were random; patterns weren’t. Patterns always linked back to purposes. Patterns had points, had meaning, and were part of stories. And stories… they had power.

  Ebony remembered, with an uncomfortable tingle along her spine, that terrible day she’d had with Flora several weeks ago. Sheesh, that fool was infuriating. She had no clue, simply no clue. Ebony had warned her, in all sincerity, that powerful-magic performed without patterns attracted… others. The one-time, accidental cases Ebony was looking at now weren’t the same thing. A ratty kid in a basement who accidentally summons the monkey of death is only going to make that type of mistake once. And while it is technically possible some passing force might latch onto his purposeless-magic, it is unlikely. But the more someone practiced purposeless-magic, the more likely it became that they’d attract attention from all the wrong kinds of creatures.

  Flora was playing a very stupid game. She was playing with something she didn’t understand. Like a child playing with a lighter and petrol, she’d be surprised when it all blew up in her face.

  It was the entire point of magic, after all, that it had a purpose. Magic was used to make the unlikely possible. It brought about mini-miracles, small pockets of the incredible. Just like a miracle, magic had to be part of a story. You called on magic when you needed something; when you stared into the face of the undesirable-probable and somehow plucked the impossible out of it. Magic was at its best when it was finding fire-swords for heroes in need, or reducing the shackles of the bound to sudden piles of dust, or giving wings to the damsel flung off the wall of the castle.

  Magic had to be part of a story for it to be appreciated as magical. If magic was purposeless, if it happened for no reason, it was nothing more than chaos.

  It was the first lesson of raw magic: give it purpose, and you’ll bend it to your will. Practice the force without a goal, and a stronger creature than you will take it from you – bending you into the arc of their own, greater, story.

  This was the risk Flora ran: her pattern-less rambles of magic would be picked out by a creature – a creature far more powerful than her. They would absorb Flora into their own story, taking her magic for their own, directing it along their own lines, for their own purposes. She would become a sideline, a footnote, a character in the background. She would be owned, taken over, and absorbed. She would be transmuted from gold into lead.

  Magic, in this way, was like marbles. Unless your aim was steady, right, and true – the person with more marbles would win and claim what you had as their own.

  Marbles, creatures, magic, and a whole lot of trouble. Flora simply had no idea.

  Ebony shuddered.

  It all depended on what creature took hold of Flora too. Being owned was one thing, but being taken by a full-demon of Hell, or a vicious wizard, or a homicidal witch…. Well, it wouldn’t be pretty.

  Ebony took the last sip of her milkshake, returned it to the metal table with a clang, and wiped her lips with delicate pats of her fingers.

  She closed the file, satisfied she was up to speed. She always liked to stay up-to-date with the cases she wasn’t directly involved in, just so she could keep the general pattern of random magical-crime in her mind.

  She was like a film editor sitting on the carpet with every single frame of a movie cut up and sprawled out before her. If she could keep every single scene in her mind, she was more likely to be able to predict how they all fit together – if they fit together.

  “Okay,” Ebony said softly, speaking to the remainder of the day, “On with the show.”

  She walked gingerly to her next appointment, though not in the same happy daze as she’d met the morning with. Though she was ready to dismiss it, some of the shine was gone. The sun was still warm and lovely, but the breeze was picking up ever so slightly, her skirt playing against her legs with tugs and pulls.

  There were even a few small wisps of cloud in the sky, dotting the edge of the horizon like specks of dust on an otherwise clean windscreen.

  She strode to Wonda’s Witch Wonders, one hand securing her hat in place as the wind picked up even more. The other hand pressed her file into her chest protectively.

  Wonda’s Witch Wonders was situated down a dark lane-way in the industrial district of town.

  Ebony grinned as she received appreciative whistles from construction workers as she made her way there. It was such a strange and dingy part of town for a store, but she understood the rationale for its location. It was out of the way, remote, and unlikely to be chanced upon. Vale may have been sitting right atop a magical portal with incredible power, but ordinary Valians would be no more likely to believe in witches than Francis Bacon would. They had no idea of the secret underground of magic that pulsed through their city, and Ebony was sure they would like it to stay that way. Magic was confronting and made people question their reality in fundamental ways.

  Just like the Detective Nathan Andrew Wall. Ebony smiled to herself cheekily. It had now been almost a month since Nate had transferred to the Vale Police Department, and watching him come to terms with magic was as entertaining as the circus to a five-year-old on a candy-high.

  He would sway fitfully between being in control and being hopelessly out of his depth. Just the other day he’d managed to take down a possessed motorbike all by himself, only to stare in slack-jawed horror when a cursed mannequin had taken a stab at him with her plastic-pointed hands.

  He was such a peculiar mix – strong, in control, and as abrasive as steel wool. Yet, much to her disappointment, he was beginning to settle in. Ben had stopped calling him rookie and had even started ensuring Ebony didn’t steal Nate’s donuts off his desk. The office ladies all said warm welcomes to him as he walked in every morning, and Ebony was sure Barney from the depot was doing an extra special job of keeping Nate’s gun cleaned and serviced.

  People liked Nate, for some reason. Ebony had no idea why. While he’d been fun to tease at first, surely his awfully arrogant edge irritated people as much as it got to her?

  There was no denying one thing unfortunately – Nate was attractive. The man was as hand
some as you could imagine, which accounted for his favor amongst the female officers. But seriously, even they should be able to see that behind the face, the competence, and the fiery sense of right was a lump of something astoundingly irritating. Fun enough to tease, but Ebony was starting to get the terrible feeling that Nate only let her tease him when he felt like it. Rather than Ebony being able to push his buttons and sit back and watch him splutter with frustration like an overloading robot, Nate would sometimes shut her down altogether. He’d get this tunnel vision, this pin-point concentration, and block her out completely.

  Ebony sniffed, rounding the corner to Wonda’s alleyway. She strode up to the pale-green door and knocked carefully on it.

  Wonda’s shop didn’t have advertising. It didn’t need it. Everyone who had any business knowing about magic knew about Wonda’s Witch Wonders. She had the cheapest and largest range of ceremonial candles in town, and she was always willing to order things in.

  The door creaked open an inch. “Come in, Ebony,” a clear voice said.

  Ebony patted the door gratefully. “Thanks, Ruby.”

  Wonda’s Witch Wonders was a lot like Harry’s second-hand Bookstore. Both stores were possessed by spirits of previous owners. But Ruby, unlike the cantankerous Harry, was a soft, gentle spirit who always ensured there wasn’t a speck of dust on the candle you’d pick up and that there was just enough light filtering in from the medieval chandelier above so you could easily read the ingredients list on all the herbal teas and tinctures.

  Ruby talked, too, unlike Harry who would remain silent for months on end until he’d rattle in Ebony’s ear, “There’s a pigeon stuck in my chimney, go and tug it out, girl.”

  “How are you, Ruby?” Ebony asked as she ran a hand over the line of beaded curtains that hung close to the door. Each bead glinted under the soft flame of the chandelier.

  Wonda’s Witch Wonders was a large store, set on one sprawling level in a room with no windows. It had only one giant cast-iron chandelier to light the whole place.

  The chandelier wasn’t run on electricity. Instead, it beamed out with a hundred lit candles. It cast such a soft, magical glow, that Ebony had always fancied taking one of the hand-woven blankets from off the shelves and curling up for a nap. She’d probably dream of dragons, she reasoned, or knights in shining armor.

  “Well,” Ruby answered with a tinkle of the beaded curtains, “I am well. So are you – you are beaming.”

  Ebony smiled. It was one thing to receive a compliment from a human. Humans always wanted things, and you could never be sure they meant it. But when a disembodied spirit said you were looking particularly fine, you could believe it.

  “Thank you,” Ebony’s tone was joyous, appreciative, and genuine.

  “Here for candles?” Ruby spoke through the shine of the hundred candles above. “Or love potions?”

  Ebony chortled. “Love potions! Since when have I ever had to buy a love potion from you, Ruby? I really don’t think it’s possible for anyone not to love me.” She flapped a hand at her chest.

  Ruby didn’t answer.

  “I’m here for candles.” Ebony walked confidently over to the six or seven shelves that were packed with candles of all shapes, sizes, and origins. She picked up a curious eye-shaped candle from Korea. It was black with a suspended golden orb in the center. “You have new stock,” she said distractedly. “I have to say, I like it.”

  “We are soon to be in the Month of Rites,” Ruby intoned through the still air of the shop, “So I’ve been sure to stock up.”

  “Hmm,” Ebony nodded, “Of course. I’ve been so busy lately, I’d almost forgotten—”

  “A witch can never forget the duties of the Coven,” Ruby said automatically.

  Ebony put up a hand. “I was joking. Of course I haven’t forgotten about the Month of Rites, and I’m well aware of my duties. I guess all I’m saying is I haven’t put a lot of thought into it this year. I’ve had so many other distractions this past month that I haven’t really been with it.”

  “The Month of Rites is the most important time of all the year,” Ruby spoke through the mouth of a skull candle, its lifeless eyes twinkling. “You must give it all the importance you have.”

  Ebony smiled politely. “Look I know, I’m a witch too, remember? I guess I’ve just gotten side-tracked.”

  “Then now you must get re-tracked. The Month of Rites imbues your magic with purpose. Without the Rite, Ebony, you are at risk. If you do not know which direction you travel in, you cannot know when you become lost, or when another leads you astray,” Wonda said ominously. “So it is very important, what will you Rite this year?”

  Ebony picked up a simple beeswax candle and traced a finger over the latticed pattern embossed into its sides. “I don’t know… I’m not sure what I want for the coming year.”

  “You must write it, before you Rite it,” Ruby spoke again through the candles above.

  “I know, I know. If I am not careful to write very clearly what I want, then I leave myself open to be rewritten. I do know all this, Wonda, honestly. And I’ll figure it out. But right now,” she grabbed four of the candles, “I’ve got so much work to do! I’ll take these four candles,” she jingled them in her hands, “And if you could have them, plus a box of cleansing tea delivered to my store, that would be great.”

  “Of course,” Ruby said, “I will have the shop imps deliver them tonight.”

  “Thanks, Ruby,” Ebony ran a hand down her dress, “And I promise I’ll give more thought to my Rite.”

  “What is the right rite of a witch, she will write before the final night of the Rite,” Ruby said automatically, her voice intoning along the circles of dust whirling through the air.

  “I know, I know. I’ll see you later, Ruby.” With that, Ebony patted the handle of the door fondly before walking out and closing it behind her.

  …

  By the time Ebony made it to the Vale Police depot, it was already late afternoon. The wind had picked up, she noted with more than a few harrumphs as she tried to keep one hand on her hat, one hand on her file, and one hand on her skirt – which proved impossible.

  “Oh go away, silly wind,” she’d berated the weather with pressed teeth. “You were such a nice day this morning.” She looked up as more and more pale clouds gathered at the horizon. “And now look at you! I wouldn’t be surprised if it rained tonight. No, scratch that, poured.”

  Ebony walked into the depot by ducking under one of the large garage doors as it closed behind a departing car. The depot was a large, stout building that sat underneath the police station. The station was a tall elegant building, with the soft lines, blacks, and creams of the Art Deco period. The depot sat around and underneath the police building, with street access on all four sides.

  The witches had enjoyed a say in the design of the current police station. When the last one burnt down during the late ‘20s, the witches had been sure to run a careful magical eye over the architectural designs for the new one. They suggested building it in the center of a crossroads. It ensured the building had a view of, and access to, everything that lay around it. The corners of the building were rounded off, too, in usual Art Deco style – a feature the witches agreed with. What, with the round edges and central access, the police station was practically a circle inside a circle of roads – which made for a powerful building, indeed.

  The witches had ensured that etched onto every single supporting beam of the structure were powerful protection symbols. They even consecrated the ground with a month-long ritual that involved a lot less nudity and wine than you might expect from your average witch get-together.

  Suffice to say, the station was well protected, and it had never been under direct threat.

  She always felt comfortable here. The police station felt like home. It was partly due to the powerful protective magic, but also due to her childhood. She had such fond memories of following her father around, teddy bear in one hand, her father’s large ha
nd clasped over the other. Everyone had always been so friendly. People would pat her on the head, offer her sweets, even let her play around in the uniform cupboard.

  Despite the wind and clouds, part of Ebony’s smile returned. “Show me some cursed rings,” she announced to the room as she entered.

  “Ebony!” Barney greeted her with his over-the-top, showman’s voice. “How are you going, girl?”

  Ebony clicked her fingers. “Fine and dandy. How’s the old Barney?”

  Barney made a show of patting himself down. “I don’t feel dead, so I must be okay, I guess.”

  “You’re the best police officer I know,” Ebony chuckled. “So where’s all that cursed jewelry?”

  “Round back. You’re going to like this one, Eb,” Barney said as he unlocked the door to the evidence cage. “A pair of cursed wedding rings.”

  “Eek, what did they do?”

  “They just had a return spell on them, I think. I mean, I don’t know this magic stuff! But whichever happy couple would buy them, they’d get a divorce in a week and sell the rings back to the jeweler they’d bought them from.”

  “Ha, very charming. Casting spells on your goods to get guaranteed returns. Surely there’s a better way?”

  Barney shrugged. “Hey, don’t ask me to try to understand this. This is all your weird magic-crime.” Barney patted his chest. “Me, I’m just a regular guy. This is your stuff, Eb.”

  Ebony reached down and carefully picked up both of the rings Barney had pulled from an evidence bag. “It’s not my stuff, Barns, there’s a lot more to magic than witches.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He handed her a washable marker and grinned.

  Ebony took the marker, dumped the rings on the table, and started to draw careful, precise symbols around them. It was just a regular child’s marker from the local newsagent, but what she was writing with it was anything but regular. She concentrated as she looped the writing, drawing a perfect freehand circle around the rings.

  She closed her eyes until she could hear a snap ring through her mind. It was the spell breaking away from the rings like a ship from its mooring.

  It was a very simple spell and hardly took much time or effort to break, which was just how Ebony liked her work.

  “Done?” Barney asked from beside her.

  Ebony replied by picking up the rings and dumping them in his hands. “I’m sure the next couple who buys these rings will break up for all their own reasons, rather than magical interference.

  “Now come on, Eb.” Barney shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve got to be more romantic. The couple doesn’t have to break up! Let ‘em stay married forever, live happily ever after, that kind of stuff.”

  Ebony waved him off, standing up with a smile. “That’s your story, pet. Now, I’m more than ready to go home.”

  As they walked out of the evidence cage, she could hear the muffled sound of gun fire. There was a shooting range in the depot, which the officers used to keep up their practice. Ebony used to go there with her father sometimes – when she’d been old enough. Regardless of the fact she was her mother’s daughter – a witch through and through – Ebony’s father had endeavored to teach Ebony everything he knew. Making Ebony the only witch who was equally as versed in hand-to-hand combat, guns, and tracking, as she was in ceremonies, rituals, and summoning.

  Barney must have heard the sound, too, as an enormous grin spread across his face. “Hey, Eb. You’ve got to see this.” He tugged on her arm. “This guy’s almost as good as your dad.”

  Ebony’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

  “The rookie, of course.”

  “Detective Nate?” Ebony couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice. “Unlikely.”

  “Come on, have a look.” Barney waved her forward as he crossed the concrete floor to the shooting range.

  Ebony felt her lips tighten into a frown as she followed him.

  Barney opened the door, ushering her inside.

  There were several other officers, most of whom were female, gathered around one of the shooting cubicles. They were all standing back behind the line, their faces alight with some kind of dumb, excessively girly wonder as Detective Nate shot bullseye after bullseye.

  “Twerp,” Ebony said under her breath, narrowing her eyes at Nate’s back.

  He was out of his usual jacket, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, and that damn black tie of his sitting just as flat as usual against his torso. The look on his face was one of careful, but easy, concentration.

  Ebony’s nose twitched. There wasn’t a drop of sweat twinkling against his brow, because it all just looked too easy for him. What was worse, what was far worse, was how darn attractive he looked.

  “Stupid little—” she began to mutter.

  Nate stepped back, clicking the safety on his gun and running an arm over his brow to wick away the non-existent sweat.

  He smiled at the assembled fans behind him and glanced over at Ebony.

  She narrowed her eyes, tilted her head up, and whipped her hat off. “Barney,” she said in a very loud voice, “You know it’s been absolutely ages since I’ve fired one of those things.”

  “You mean a gun, Eb – don’t you?” Barney asked, taking the hat.

  She waved a hand. “One of those things.”

  Nate hadn’t said a word yet, but his brow was furrowed with amusement.

  Ebony waited patiently, her hand held out until Barney furnished her with an unloaded gun and a clip.

  “You actually ever fired ‘one of those things?’” Nate mimicked her voice perfectly.

  Ebony didn’t answer, just walked into a cubicle, not bothering with the mufflers or other protective gear because, after all, she was a witch. She waited for the target to come up and emptied the clip, bang into the center of the bullseye.

  She smiled with satisfaction. She was just as accurate – if not better – than the silly Detective Nate.

  She turned, looking more triumphant, she hoped, than Julius Caesar upon conquering Gaul.

  Barney gave the obligatory cheer and woot. But Nate, Nate just stood there.

  She couldn’t tell if he was impressed, shocked, annoyed, or bored. But he certainly wasn’t groveling at her awesome skill, which was what she had aimed for.

  “What?” he said, unwrapping a piece of gum from his pocket and popping it in his mouth. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

  Ebony narrowed her eyes, choosing to answer with a haughty silence.

  “Because I’m not.” Nate chewed the gum from side-to-side. “You’re a witch, after all.”

  “I didn’t use my magic,” she assured him. “I’m just that good.” She gestured a hand toward the target.

  “Right, of course you are.”

  Oh lord. She hated it when he said that. Every second word Nate said was a sarcastic, “Right.”

  “Na,” Barney walked off behind Nate, grabbing something from the wall, “Eb can’t use magic to shoot – it’s one of the restricted magics. Her old man was DI Bell. He still holds the unbeaten record for accuracy.” Barney dusted the photo he’d grabbed from the wall with the corner of his sleeve and smiled down at it.

  “Your father was Detective Inspector Derrick Bell?” Finally, Nate looked impressed, but only mildly.

  Ebony curtsied. “Yes, indeed. And, like father like daughter, he taught me everything I know about those funny gun things.”

  “Right.” Nate began to roll down his sleeves, still chewing on his gum. “Things make a lot more sense now.”

  She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She’d won.

  “I always wondered why you got this job.” He began to push past her.

  “Because I’m trained in both ordinary and magical forms of combat.” Ebony drummed her fingers against her chest.

  “Nope,” Nate put a hand on the door, not bothering to turn around, “Nepotism.”

  “Why you little—” Ebony began.

  Barney gave a sharp laugh and hande
d back her hat, taking the gun. “That guys a laugh.”

  “That guy is just so—”

  The door to the shooting range opened suddenly, and a very serious looking Ben dashed inside. His face was that shade of white it always took when Ben realized that not even his usual sense of cheer would see him through.

  “What?” She crammed the hat on her head, even though she was inside. “You look like you’ve just seen a—”

  “Ghost,” Ben finished her sentence. “Yeah, we’ve just had a report of someone doing a Death Summoning out at the graveyard.”

  Ebony’s hand froze on her hat, her face setting like starch in the sun. “Blessed be Hecate,” she said softly, words shaky.

  “I’ll start the car.”