Witch's Bell Book One

Ebony with the determination of a whole army.

Chapter Eighteen
    E bony shifted back, her breath quick and harsh in her chest. She didn't like that look in his eye, she really didn't like that look.
    Could it be possible that the magic the Grimshores were using – whatever it was – could it be possible that it had turned Nate against her? Made him angry, violent even?
    She was only just beginning to learn the extent of this magical meddling in her life. And now Nate was-
    'Just get out of here,' he didn't grab her again, but was close enough that his breath beat against her like a wave against the levy. 'Get out. Leave. While you still can.'
    Ebony fought the urge to protest, to plant her feet and ask just who he thought he was to throw around threats like that. But who did Ebony think she was right now, for starters, let alone Nate? The whole world was threatening to pull the rug from under her high-heels, and she was getting hung up on a little threat. Not that the threat was little, or the man who was offering it. But still, maybe Ebony should just leave.
    'Ebony, go,' Nate's voice twitched a little, if a voice could actually twitch, that was. It peaked and dipped like an economic graph after a crash. And his expression went with it.
    For the first time, Ebony realized that Nate was barely holding onto something. Containing something behind that wall of anger like a genie in a lamp.
    'Nate?' she questioned, lips dropping open.
    'Get out of here,' he rounded on her again.
    This time she got the message.
    She danced lithely to the side, perhaps even faster than he'd expected she could move, and ran off down the stairs. She didn't stop running, in fact, until she was right out the front doors of the police station. Though she'd slowed to a passable jog whenever she'd passed a uniformed officer – knowing that perennial rule about cops chasing anything that ran – she made it out the door quickly though.
    She walked with a steady pace, almost jogged, to the other side of the road. She wanted to get as far away from the police station as possible, and as quickly as she could do it. Now she was out of the place, the sheer peculiarity, and yet danger, of the situation started to dawn on her. Her whole life, her whole life, had just changed. She'd thought things had moved quickly last night – with the mugging, and the conversation with her mother – but this was now just insane.
    Reality was melting around her like icing left out in the full sun. Her memories, everything she'd once held sacred – now, apparently, all gone.
    And yet... not gone. It wasn't the fact that Vale itself had changed. Here it still was, stretching out around her in its palette of browns, grays, and blacks. The pavement was still solid beneath her feet, the buildings still standing around her, and the sun was still shining in the sky.
    Everything was the same, and yet different. But Ebony couldn't easily point to the "out there" to discern the problem, because the source was within her. It was the fact that the reality she was now being forced to play a part in was not the one she remembered from this morning.
    The world hadn't changed, only her world had.
    Ebony kept up a very even and steady pace, her heels hitting the pavement with regular clicks. She didn't have a plan of where to go, but just knew she had to go away from here. It was the look in Nate's eyes, the timbre of his voice. Nothing fit. And yet she couldn't help but feel the real anger behind his actions. Was he her friend, or very much her foe? Was he under the same cloud of forgetting that everyone else seemed to be under? Or was Nate Wall, as usual, just different?
    Ebony found herself scratching at her arms, neck, and face. Basically any sensation that arose, she quickly grabbed at, as if checking that it wasn't a spider creeping over her flesh. She licked her lips too, but her mouth was so dry that the move only served to make her flesh sting and smart.
    Where to now, where to now?
    She didn't stop moving, just marched ahead. Though march was the wrong word. Lope was a closer fit. She wasn't heading anywhere with great determination, she was just heading away from something with enthusiastic desperation.
    Nate. Her mind kept on going back to Nate. In fact, every single suspicion, feeling, or general thought about the guy that she'd ever had, now welled up in her mind as if she'd just drilled into an artery.
    Who was he? What did he want from her? Could she trust him? How