Witch's Bell Book One

old. It was a large open-plan building, with a high ceiling, and was just stuffed to the brim with books and dilapidated magazines not a soul had ever likely read. The counter was off to one side, right at the front of the store, near the fire-truck red door. There was an old cash register sitting on top of it, and a glass bowl full of candy and ludicrously colored lollipops. She always offered one to customers after they'd actually bought something, just to sweeten the deal.
    The rest of the first floor was sliced off erratically with giant, dark, stained, wooden bookshelves. Rather than having them neatly arranged in rows, with labels and some kind of order, Ebony preferred the hodgepodge method of library cataloging. There were old, red, velvet banana-lounges dotted around the place, their fabric torn and worn with age. And behind the lounges, or to the side, or in front of windows, or wherever she damn pleased – were the large bookcases, their shelves simply overflowing with books of all sizes, colors, and content.
    It was a rabbit warren, as her father described it, a crazy rabbit warren dug out by rabbits on barely legal drugs. Ebony had always giggled at that description. Her mother seemed to have a different opinion though. A messy mind, Avery Bell had always warned, summoned a messy life.
    But Ebony loved the place, she'd finally convinced herself. Sure, having no actual order meant that most people became too frustrated in their search to actually buy anything. But that didn't matter, because for the few people that stuck it out, it was always worth seeing that look of wonder in their eyes. That marvelous glint of achievement as they realized that they had found just what they were looking for, despite the sheer chaos of the place.
    Upstairs was a slightly different world, though. While downstairs resembled a book-cyclone, upstairs was actually quite neat. It was a mezzanine level, with a large wooden railing from which one could peer down at the store below. Beautiful old bookcases were lined, neat and exact, along each of the three walls. Each was packed, though gently enough, with decidedly old-looking books. They were all sun-damaged and pale, but the blue, green, red, and black spines still twinkled their color. And if you made it close enough, you could still make out the original gold lettering imprinted on their spines.
    Upstairs wasn't usually open to Ebony's customers, a little rusty chain being hung over the beginning of the staircase below with the word “private” painted in chipped red-paint on a little wooden board. Upstairs was her, ah, other collection. It was a comprehensive set of books on magic, alchemy, witchcraft, wizardry, spells, demons, and anything else you could think of. But unlike the fluff you might buy in an ordinary bookstore, these books were somewhat the genuine article.
    The books on the top level formed the backbone of Harry's original collection. Harry Elbert Horseshoe had been a wizard of some repute during the early twentieth century. He'd traveled the world collecting any magical book he could get his hands on, eventually bringing his whole collection back to his hometown of Vale. Though Ebony didn't really know too much about the old-timer, she did know he'd guarded his collection like a mother hen guards her chicks.
    Ebony jumped off the final step, bangles jangling on her wrists. She fully intended to trot up to the counter, grab a strawberry lollipop, and continue sorting out the mess while her stereo system blared. But to her surprise, there was an actual real customer standing at the counter.
    'Oh,' she said quickly, 'she jammed her thumb onto the pause button on the stereo-remote in her pocket, 'didn't see you there, pet.'
    She walked up to the counter, teeth pressing into her lips in a cheeky smile. 'I really should invest in a bell I can hear over my music – oh,' she said suddenly, as she rounded the back of the counter, 'it's you.'
    Detective Nathan Wall smiled back, though you couldn't exactly call it a smile. It was more a bare twitch of acknowledgment. 'I don't think there is a bell on Earth that could be heard over that din,' his voice was dripping with sarcasm. One arm rested lightly on the counter, the other pressed two books into his chest.
    'You,' she cocked an eyebrow, pursed her lips, and blinked quickly, 'are wearing a different suit.'
    Nate looked down, expression bland. 'Great detective skills, I can see why the police department consults