Witch's Bell Book One

the ones in charge, we are the ones-'
    'Who don't have a clue about what's after you,' Nate supplied, keeping his eyes on the dragon.
    Cecilia blinked carefully. 'No one is after us. We are the Grimshores. Our family has been at the center of Vale for almost a century. We own this silly town, and very soon we'll own that silly witch,' she smiled at Ebony, 'very soon.'
    'Shut up,' Nate re-gripped his sword. 'You don't have the book; you can't consummate the spell yet. You have nothing but a trumped up dragon, and lifetime full of mistakes.'
    'Tell me,' Ebony pressed her fingers together, welling the magic into the tips of her skin. She was ready to fight, when it would come to that. 'Who was helping you? Was it a wizard, was it a witch? Did you pay them off? Did you promise to make them rich if only they helped you continue your hold on Vale?'
    Cecilia narrowed her eyes. 'You don't have a cl-'
    'A clue? You want a clue? Here's a clue, dear Miss Grimshore. If I hadn't interrupted your little Death-Summoning, you would have been the one dying. You were set up, and set up well. Neither of you must know much about magic because everything – from trying to summon Death, to what you were wearing – was bringing things towards you.'
    'Things?' Cecilia said, voice incredulous. Though there was a hint of uncertainty about her eyes.
    'Things. Of the horrible, and terribly powerful variety. Whoever you thought was working for you, they weren't. They were setting you up, like a magical buffet. Just waiting for a creature to come your way and gobble you down.'
    Cecilia shot a quick glance at the gaunt man and then returned her gaze to Ebony. 'I don't believe you,' her voice was high. 'The Treasure wouldn't have lied. The Treasure has kept my family safe, powerful for decades.'
    'The Treasure?' Nate asked quickly. 'What's the Treasure-'
    Cecilia laughed, and it wasn't pleasant. It was the kind of laugh that can only be associated with the criminally insane, or the astoundingly vicious. 'I'm done here. Dragon,' her voice was commanding, 'kill the man and seize the witch.'
    The dragon didn't need to be told twice, and instantly leaped toward Nate. Even though it had the form of a human, it moved like a beast. It crouched down until its hands were on the ground, then used its legs to spring forward.
    Nate tracked back. He threw an arm out to Ebony, knocking her to the floor and out of the path of the dragon.
    Then the thing let out a ball of flame. It shot towards Nate, and he barely had time to put his sword up to block the flow.
    Despite the fact it was simply metal against flame, the broadsword managed to stem the flow. The flame dispersed along the blade, as if the metal was a vacuum, sucking the fire inside itself.
    As Nate fought the dragon, the gaunt man shifted. He quietly reached inside a sleeve, pulling out a knife. It wasn't just any knife though; it was the same sacred knife he'd used in the crypt. The same knife he'd used to slash Ebony, the same knife that had drawn her blood, and that had set their spell in motion.
    It was still tinged red.
    The man pointed her way. “Your blood”, he mouthed.
    A cold shiver passed over her skin.
    For just a second it seemed that Ebony and the man were alone in the room. Cecilia, Nate, the dragon – they all disappeared from Ebony's awareness as she focused in on the knife.
    Blood is a powerful thing. You can't live without blood. Blood is what carries the oxygen, the life around your body. It is movement, and without movement, you stop. Stop too long and you'll die.
    The man ran a finger carefully across the blade, collecting some of the crusted blood underneath a yellowed fingernail.
    What was he going to do with it?
    'You think I don't know about magic, witch? You think I don't know about you, about your Knight, about the creatures waiting on the Other Side?' the man sighed. 'Unfortunately for you, you are dead wrong.'
    Ebony became very cold.
    Very cold.
    The man brought the blood-caked finger up to his mouth and blew.
    The dried blood moved to the left. It moved to the right. It moved up. It moved down. It moved everywhere.
    Ebony doubled over. Within her, she could feel her blood reverse, shift, agitate.
    She lost force, lost momentum. Where once there was order, where once there was directed flow, there was now chaos.
    She pulled in on herself. Fell to the floor. Fell to her knees. Fell to her hands. Fell to her face.
    Her cheek was cold against the rug, though from within