Witch's Bell Book One

someone who has died, you are replacing the magic of their life, with the magic of Death. Death is a permanent, overwhelming fixture of the universe – it is powerful, powerful magic. And when it is summoned in the place of someone's life, it trumps it. You remember what I told you about stories? Well this is the same thing. Rather than living for their life, if you summon Death through the dead, you rewrite the ending of their story. No longer did they live for what they achieved, what they meant – they now lived for death.' Ebony kept flexing her hands inside the sleeves of Nate's jacket, trying to ensure the blood kept flowing to them. 'But no soul would sit by and watch that happen. That's where the ghosts come in. They arise from the body, trying to protect the lives they lived from being rewritten.'
    'So they attack the guy, right? Whoever is trying to summon Death-'
    'Yeah. But not if the maniac is smart enough to have collected enough meaningful objects from the ghost's life. If you have a beloved wedding ring, a journal, a necklace – anything that strongly connects to some memory of life for the ghost – they won't attack because they simply won't let such a memory be destroyed. And heaven forbid if the summoner manages to get their hands on a loved one...'
    'You mean a person?' Nate said quickly. 'You mean that maniac could have an actual person in there with him?'
    'I don't think so, not on this occasion. We would have been told... though don't rule it out. Anyhow, the ghost usually becomes enraged as it watches, helplessly, as its life is rewritten. And, well, the ghost loses its head, figuratively speaking, and just goes off on a path of destruction.'
    'So just to clarify, we've got a madman in there, potentially with a hostage, that is trying to summon Death through the dead. And we've got an enraged ghost who's going around trashing the cemetery, to boot?'
    'And maybe other ghosts,' Ebony shivered as the cold from the sodden ground pressed up through her feet. 'They always tend to band together at times like these.'
    'So an enraged ghost and his ghost friends?'
    'Yep,' Ebony drew Nate's jacket closer around her.
    'Jesus.'
    'No, he shouldn't be there.'
    Nate looked down at her. There was an odd expression on his face. His chest was puffed out with his usual Chevalier strength and arrogance, but there was something else at the side of his eyes. 'And you are going to go in there and take this guy down, without any shoes on? Are you sure there's no one you can call for backup?'
    Ebony decided she didn't like Nate's tone... it was too nice. 'Well, you don't think I'm capable?'
    'No,' he said very evenly, and somewhat honestly, 'believe it or not, I don't want you to get hurt.'

Chapter Six
    E bony didn't have a great deal of time to ponder the Detective's once-in-a-blue-moon kind words, because just as soon as she angled her face towards him to try and pry out the sincerity from his eyes, a chunk of gravestone came hurtling over the cemetery wall, striking the windscreen of a cop car. The screen buckled and shattered on impact, the car's alarm going off with violent shrieks that pierced through the muffle of rain.
    Ebony ducked to the side, breath in her throat, tugging Nate's arm as she went.
    'Alright,' she heard Ben scream from just beyond her, 'It's time to move out!'
    She immediately sprang to follow his words, her mouth drawn thin with her ever-dimming mood. It simply seemed this situation was becoming ever more serious, as her face paled with stretched, but unnerved, determination. Ben didn't have his usual sarcasm either. More often than not, the erstwhile Detective would chortle at the door of danger, declaring something along the lines of "obviously someone's having a hell of a party in there, and we weren't invited – so let’s show them gate-crashing, police style". Even though she always knew Ben was serious, he had this wonderful charm about him that somehow made situations manageable. But now he was as drawn and tight as everyone else.
    'We've got four points to cover,' the water no longer dripped off Ben's face, as he'd managed to borrow a stiff-brimmed police hat from someone, and had crammed it over his abnormally round head, 'front gate, southern gate, main path, and of course, the crypt. I've got officers on a perimeter around the walls, and I'll have backup at both of the gates as soon as you can blink. Inside, I want to keep it to a minimum. There are too many gravestones,