Witch's Bell Book One

real.
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    B y the time they'd reached their destination, Ebony was ready to scream. twenty minutes in a car with Detective Nate, was like a lifetime of driver's ed courses. He would stop well before each light, put his hand break on when paused in traffic, pause to let people into his lane, even slow down to let bikes past.
    'You drive like an Eighty-year-old preacher,' Ebony virtually spat as she hauled herself out of his car, patting down her skirt and flaring out her hair.
    'No, I drive like you're meant to. I obey the rules, something wrong with that?' Nate waited till Ebony had slammed her door closed before he locked the car. Then he took a quick sweep of his surroundings, those camera lenses of eyes seeming to pick up and document every single detail in sight. 'So, apparently we're looking for-'
    'Cursed rocking chairs,' Ebony shot an appreciative grin at a handsome man that walked past, 'or maybe cursed arm chairs – depends what the fool has been up to lately.'
    'Sorry, cursed rocking chairs?'
    'Hmm,' Ebony played with her earrings, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on her back and hair, 'Flora Wheatly,' she pronounced the words clearly, turned round with a flutter, and started to march off down the street, 'we've warned her before.'
    'Ben just said something about an antique store and curses-' once again, the Detective seemed to appear at Ebony's side, matching her pace without the slightest apparent effort.
    'Mmmm, it's Flora. We've really told her.' Ebony rounded the corner into Matriarch's Place. It was an open arcade of sorts, dotted with various little shops: spice stores, booksellers, cafes, and one lonely little antique store.
    Flora's Antiques was an old, dingy building. The once-white sign above the door was missing so many letters, you could really only make out "ra...nts" by now. Which, Ebony thought with a smile, was incredibly fitting when it came to Flora.
    Ben was standing outside, sharing the shade of the awning with a uniformed officer. His face was drawn and tired. 'Blimey, Eb,' he said as soon as she came into ear shot, 'this is doing my head in. It's the second cursed rocking chair in a month!'
    Ebony shook her head knowingly as she marched up to him. 'I know; the fool is insane.'
    Ben gave a brief nod to Nate. 'Isn't there anything the Coven can do?'
    'She's not a witch, Ben,' Ebony said softly, 'she's not a normal woman,' she added as an afterthought, 'but not a witch.'
    Ben gave a bare laugh. 'So, rookie, how's the morning been?'
    Nate's expression didn't waver. 'Barrel of fun.'
    'Sounds like you've been hanging out with Eb,' Ben gave a gruff laugh. 'Anyhow, we've got to find some way to deal with this one, it's driving me insane.' Ben turned back to Ebony.
    'What's the story-' Nate began, but quickly corrected, 'what's the case?'
    'Cursed rocking chairs. So comfortable you just can't escape,' Ebony peered through the dingy windows of the shop, trying to catch a glance of the awful Flora.
    'Sounds... terrible. So, if we know she's been selling them, why don't we just go in and arrest her?'
    'Not so fast, cowboy,' Ebony finally caught a glance of the old woman sitting behind her counter, her menacing eyes glinting out at the world, 'ever heard of the word "warrant"?'
    'Are you serious? You need a warrant to make an arrest for magical crime? I thought only the police force were bound by the Pact. How do you ask the local magistrate to sign off on arresting someone for cursing rocking chairs without being locked up for wasting the Court's time?'
    'Witching Warrants are kind of different,' Ben shrugged, 'same premise though. You've got to have a reasonable case before you can arrest someone. You can't just swan around throwing every kid with a Wicca book in the lock up – you've got to have a case before you arrest.'
    'And we don't have a case? You said you knew it was her, what more do you need?'
    Ebony sighed heavily. 'We've brought her down to the station before. She just claims that she didn't knowingly import cursed-furniture, and nor did she knowingly curse the chairs herself. Says that the wood the chairs are made from came from a cursed forest.'
    'A cursed forest?' Nate was looking at her askance.
    'It happens,' Ebony shrugged, 'point is we can't prove it. If she's right – which she isn't, because she's a rotten little liar – but if she was right, and the chairs were actually harvested from a cursed forest, then we wouldn't have grounds for arrest. She