Witch's Bell Book One

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, 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 choose to rewrite you so slowly and painfully. Because perhaps they have no other choice.'
    Ebony 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.'
    Ebony 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?' she heaved a horribly deep sigh.
    '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, tinniest 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,' he added with a satisfied chortle, 'it always works on dragons.'
    The sound of more sirens suddenly blared from outside and Ebony turned 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.'
    Ebony 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.'
    Ebony took the stairs heavily, her mug bouncing around in her hand, shedding little droplets of tea this way and that.
    Even though she knew Harry would last against the hoard trying to break down his door, Ebony still walked carefully towards 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 as if to pretend someone was home. Who knows, he probably even imitated Ebony's voice and called to the postman to "put the blasting post on the bench, you trotters".
    But today was Saturday....
    Ebony very slowly 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 said offhand, as she kept making her careful way towards the box.
    'I imagine so, they are important, you know. Hand people far more important post than the postman,' he said, derision obvious.
    'Okay,' she said with a sigh, and just grabbed for the damn thing. 'What do you think it is?' she asked as she snatched at 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 magic, and you know the police and wizards are after it, why did you let it in?!'
    'Ebony,' he said, the