Witch's Bell Book One

bottom-lip quiver a touch.
    'But I'm not practicing magic, dear,' she said quaintly, but a little unsure.
    'Oh, of course you aren't, I'm just saying, hypothetically, if you were – then I'd watch out. You can curse all the chairs you want, getting whatever bizarre kick you get from it. But sooner or later something stronger is going to sniff out your magic, pet, and latch onto it like a tentacle in the dark.'
    Ben now hooked a hand over Ebony and pulled her back.
    Flora's face was growing as off-color as the chair she sat on. 'You get out of here, witch. You can't touch me.'
    As Ben pulled the fuming Ebony back, Nate stood in front of her, right between Ebony and the counter. He set himself down with the finality and weight of an anchor. 'You have your warning, ma'am. Be sure it doesn't happen again.'
    Flora's aged and inexpertly lipstick-clad lips beamed out a smile. 'Oh thank you, dear. Aren't you a sweet one?'
    'Thank you, ma'am,' Nate said expressionlessly. 'But I suggest you take this warning seriously. It's an official document-'
    'Of course it is. I'll take it very seriously.'
    'Be sure you do.' Nate turned and gave Ebony what could only be called a devastating look. It said clearly that he couldn't believe she'd just had an outburst like that. 'I see what you mean,' he whispered to Ben, 'she does need controlling.'
    Ben, hand still latched around Ebony's elbow, tried to head for the door.
    'That's it, Detective Tate,' Flora rocked on the edge of her chair, grin showing her teeth, 'you get rid of that little witch. Horrible, warty little hag!'
    Ebony's face paled. 'Why you little-' she began to shriek.
    'Alright,' Ben practically picked Ebony up and wrestled her out of the door, 'I really wouldn't go saying things like that, Flora, not if you want to stay this side of the law,' while Ben's tone wasn't overtly threatening, it had the weight of a judges gavel.
    When Ben finally managed to get the erupting Ebony through the door, he swore like a sailor. 'Why that stupid old woman,' he finally put Ebony down, 'the department's really going to have to do something about her.'
    Ebony's top teeth were dug so hard into her bottom lip that the flesh had turned white from lack of blood. 'Errgh!' she stamped at the ground. 'How dare she!'
    'You handled that situation very well, I thought,' Nate rounded on Ebony.
    'Oh get-' she began.
    'Alright then, that's all done,' Ben clapped his hands together loudly. 'Time you and me get back to the station, rookie. I've got an in-tray of ordinary crime, and two doughnuts sitting on my desk.'
    'So, we're done here then?' Nate shot a careful look at Ebony.
    'No, we're going to go back in there and hex that stupid-' Ebony began.
    'Yep, that's a wrap,' Ben said, voice strong and hard.

Chapter Four
    E bony drew the brush through her hair. It ran as smooth and quick as a flag through the air. There had never once been a knot in Ebony Elizabeth Bell's hair, and heaven forbid there ever would be. She only ever brushed it to liven it up – to give it bounce, body, and remind it of its magical roots.
    Ebony hummed to herself softly as she picked a pair of earrings off her dressing table. They were silver dangling things, with beautiful little blue stones that sparkled out at the world like stars on a dark night. Once she'd finished hooking the earrings in, Ebony selected two or three bracelets and crammed them over her wrists. They were all golden, gleeful, and just so pretty.
    Still humming, her hand hovered over her collection of rings, wondering which to choose. Rings were always difficult accessories, especially for a witch. The problem with rings was they were, well, ring like. They were circles. And circles were powerful symbols for witches. Circles magnified, concentrated, and strengthened anything that lay at their center. And while a bangle was technically a circle, and for that reason also had its power – rings were worse. They were worse because of where you wore them, on your fingers. And fingers could point. And a point was like a circle, it concentrated, it restricted – it magnified. So a ring worn on a finger was a powerful thing indeed, especially considering which finger you chose to wear it on.
    Ebony sighed, eventually deciding not to wear a ring at all today. It was too hard, and anyhow, she hadn't even begun to decide what outfit to wear, and it was already ten thirty!
    Though most people choose what to wear before they picked what accessories could match it,