Witch's Bell Book One

wouldn't be able to accept it anyway. Yes, she felt almost dragged under by the desire to give up, but some part of her knew that giving up was the last thing she'd ever do, quite possibly literally.
    If you are dumped in the ocean, you have to keep moving to stay afloat. So that's what she was doing. Moving. Without great purpose or direction. Just with a nervous, itching energy.
    As Ebony drew closer and closer to Harry's - ever careful to keep an eye out for potential attackers, or fireballs from the sky - she realized how smart, and how very dumb this was. If someone really was after Ebony, if they really did want to get her on her own, now was the perfect time. And if they really were strong enough to make it through the police's magical defenses., then Harry's wouldn't pose too much of a problem.
    But then again, it was where she'd decided to go. Magic, or not; the right thing to do, or not: Harry's would be where Ebony Bell would make her stand.
    She could call her mother, or try and get in contact with the Coven, but something told her that was a far worse a plan than it sounded. Her mother, after all, would likely know what was happening to Ebony – if she could help, or even wanted to help – then she'd already be here. Avery Bell was a witch, a powerful witch – she would either sense this powerful, terrible change of events – or she would be caught up in it. And if Avery had been truthful when she'd told Ebony that is was others in the Coven that had voted to punish her, then perhaps her mother really couldn't help....
    The same with her father. He would either be caught up in it, or.... Well, he would be if Ebony got him involved.
    No, considering how much Ebony had been punished for her past, and continuing, advances against the Grimshores – she was going to do this alone. Well with no-one but Harry, at least. She had no qualms about bringing him in on this. The cantankerous old fool would likely pull up his foundations, like a skirt, and trundle after Ebony if she tried to leave this city, or fight against unknown powers on her own.
    Harry loved a fight, almost as much as he loved a book. He'd been a powerful wizard, after all, and had been pitted against things too horrible and too powerful to name.
    As Ebony neared her shop, her feet started to move faster and faster, until she broke into a run. Her hair slapped against her back, her hands gripped into fists at her side, and her skirt flared around her like a cape.
    If there was someone in her way – if there was a witch, a wizard, a demon, or even a Grimshore – in Ebony's current state she'd likely run right past them, or through them.
    The more she ran, the more the determination pooled up around her. She was doing something, even though it was something as simple as running. And she was heading somewhere, even if it was somewhere as obvious as Harry's. But she had made a decision, and now turned her energy to fulfilling that choice. Ebony Bell was doing something, and purposefully.
    She turned the corner to her street, her heart pounding heavily, but soundly.
    But just as she crossed the pavement, heading for Harry's with the most direct route possible, she spied the police cars. And the wizards.
    Yes, wizards.
    There were wizards standing around outside of Ebony's store, all dressed up in their leather and with their numerous tattoos glinting in the sun. That was the thing about wizards they very much weren't a bunch of old men with prodigious beards and blue robes. No, the closest analogy to any human group would be bikies. Wizards were mostly large, hairy men with tattoos, and an attitude to match. It was to do with the type of magic they practiced – it wasn't the light handed feints of the magicians – real wizard magic required a lot of strength, both of mind and body. And the tattoos were as much to impress girls as they were to adorn themselves with empowering symbols of magic. And the hair, well... there was something about men, power, and beards that Ebony had never really figured out.
    Ebony drew up so sharply that she practically fell out of her shoes. But she was careful enough to immediately duck into the shop next to her. In fact, the move was so quick, so sharp, and so smooth, that it thankfully didn't draw the attention of the hoard down the street. They were all looking the other way, or simply congregating in front of the shop, obviously trying to get in.
    And Harry was, obviously, not being helpful. The door was