Witch's Bell Book One

closed, and every single blind was drawn. In fact, there were now blinds on the front windows – even though there hadn't been any when Ebony had left in the morning. Harry was obviously hunkering down.
    Were they after her, or were the after Harry?
    The mugging last night. The man had been after her bag, hadn't he? Had he been after the keys to the store? Or had he really only been after Ebony?
    Ebony, her throat so dry and narrow that it felt like she was breathing through a sand-encrusted straw, walked further into the Turkish takeout she'd so automatically ducked into, staring out the windows, but at the same time trying her hardest not to be seen through the glass.
    'Ebony!' the owner suddenly announced happily from behind her, hands outstretched.
    She turned and blinked quickly at him. She was blinking way too much today. It seemed to be her go-to-reaction for finding out her life was currently being destroyed and rewritten by someone who really didn't have her best interests at heart.
    'Ebony! I haven't seen you in days! And may I say,' he nodded appreciatively, 'you are looking so nice!'
    She kept blinking. Grghh! She really had to stop doing that. But she couldn't help it; someone was being nice to her. It was like she'd just walked out of a dark room and into the full-sun of the morning.
    'Ah, I am, Mohammad?' she answered carefully, as if giving him plenty of time to change his mind and throw his shoe at her.
    He didn't, but he did pick up on her alarmed/fatigued/bamboozled state, and nodded with obvious tenderness. 'Bad day?'
    She nodded.
    'Hey, why are the police outside of your store, anyway? Are they waiting for you? You work for them,' he shrugged, 'and they look impatient – maybe they are here to pick you up for some case or something.'
    She shrugged. 'Yes,' she answered dryly, 'here to pick me up.'
    'And what's with the bikers, eh? Why are the bikers and police together? Is this Co-operation Saturday, or something?' Mohammad laughed heartily at his own joke.
    Ebony just clenched her teeth together and tried to think.
    Why was Mohammad being so nice? Well, he was always nice to Ebony, that was no real shock. But today, when the rest of the world wanted to hunt her down? Why was he immune?
    Maybe she just hadn't mentioned the Grimshores in his presence, or maybe it was something more than that. Casting a spell over everyone Ebony had ever met, making them all believe she was a terrible naughty little witch, would take an astounding amount of magic. Not only would you have to virtually blanket the city in a forgetting-spell, it would have to be directed specifically at their memories of Ebony.
    Now, whatever was going on was big, and big with a capital THIS IS BIG. But just how big was it? If Ebony was the center of this mess, then wouldn't it make sense to only cast magic on those that were directly around her – people that could actually affect her, and who's affected memory would have a big effect on Ebony herself?
    The Grimshores seemed evil, for sure, and they seemed incredibly powerful. But why waste magic? Why seek out and cast a spell on the whole city, when just the police department and Ebony's family would do?
    Magic, like money, was about maximizing returns. You only ever spent as much magic as you would be sure of reward.
    Ebony licked her lips and took a sharp little breath. She was going to try something here. Ebony was going to be honest. 'Look Mohammad, I have to be honest with you. I'm having a really, really bad day.'
    'Free Turkish delight,' he said automatically, grabbing at the glass jar on his counter and selecting the largest piece before tossing it to Ebony.
    She smiled. And it was genuine. 'I'm afraid I might need something more than that...'
    He nodded sagely. 'A pastry? Coffee? Both?'
    'I was thinking something more along the lines of access to your fire escape,' Ebony bit into the sweet, allowing the sugar to seep through and, temporarily, raise her mood.
    Mohammad didn't look at her askance and run outside to call the police, though he'd obviously made the connection. 'I see. So, the police aren't here to pick you up – they're here to pick you up.'
    Ebony patted the icing sugar off her fingers and just nodded. It was all she could do. She could try and mumble a defense – try and tell him that the world was against her, very literally, and not to believe the stories about her because they were magically made-up.
    Mohammad appeared to think for a moment, and then