Witch's Bell Book One

chance; she assured herself, still a chance-
    Suddenly a single feather floated down from the storm above, its trajectory and speed somehow unaffected by the violent winds and rain. It touched the ground just in front of the gargoyle, with the soft touch of a tender kiss. The gargoyle shifted its head down, staring right at it, even though its eyes were hollowed out from Nate's bullets.
    A circle opened out in the thick clouds above, a beautiful, clear light shining down with the strength of a dozen blessed-candles. Even though she didn't Believe, Ebony couldn't help but let her heart soar with the sight. In a hushed second, an angel began to float down from above. Angels weren't quite the creatures that humans envisioned them - no wings, halos, and flowing robes. While they had what could be recognized as a body, in the place of skin they had light. They were solidified, formed light. Much like the ghost, but solider – stronger. The light swirled beneath their forms with sudden flashes and bursts, like gas igniting in the night. You could make out each feature of the angel – it still had eyes, eyelids, lips, a nose, hands, even pupils. But instead of skin, it simply glowed.
    The gargoyle let out an ear-splitting howl as the angel descended from above. Ebony turned, studying the faces of her teammates, watching their expressions as they saw an actual angel descend from the heavens. Ben's face was radiant, amazed, his eyes wider than a child who has just found out that Santa Clause, in fact, is actually real. Andrews sported a similar look of adulation. But Nate, she realized with a strange kick of her stomach, just looked on. Yes, she could tell he was amazed, but not overpowered like the rest of them seemed to be. Somehow, the irritating Detective was, once again, taking it all in his stride. It was as if, and Ebony chased the thought away immediately, but still, it was as if he'd simply seen it all before.
    The angel descended softly, clamping a hand around the gargoyle's wing. Once it had a firm grip, it simply leaped back into the air, unaffected by the gargoyle's lashings, and floated back up beyond the clouds. With a snap, the light extinguished, and the storm tumbled back in. It took several minutes of soaking rain, thunder, and cold before the wonder waned from the rest of the teams' eyes.
    'God,' Ben eventually mumbled, hand on his mouth.
    'No,' she corrected trying to motion them on, 'just a representative. But come on, no time left. She pointed forward; finally sure she knew which crypt they were after. 'Time to end this.'
    It was a curious word to use, she realized as she blinked back the rain and streaked towards the darkened crypt. Because endings, when Death was involved, tended to be final and complete.

Chapter Seven
    E bony, sure that everyone was behind her, ran towards the crypt like, well, like Ebony really. Her wet hair trailed behind her, somehow managing to sprawl out like a half-hearted cape, even though the rain drove down in a vertical stream so strong it felt as if she was standing directly underneath a waterfall. And it wasn't just her hair, either. Everything about Ebony, at that moment, screamed Ebony. Her manicured fingernails, though still sticky from the ectoplasm and covered in heaven knows what else, weren't broken and somehow still managed to look fabulous. Her earrings still managed to tinkle like little bells, despite the orchestra of clashes, thunder and rumblings from the storm above. There was integrity to her visage, her form. It seemed for just a moment, that it didn't matter if Ebony was standing at the counter of her bookstore taunting detectives and laughing lasciviously with a lollipop sticking out of her mouth, or running through the drenching rain to a crypt to save the world from Death. Ebony was Ebony wherever she went.
    Though to the careful eye, one might realize that the more Ebony ran, and the closer she came to her destination, the more and more she looked like herself. Was it a trick of the light? Maybe the whirl of the weather, the terror of the situation, and the dark that was punctuated only by sudden flashes of lightening, simply made it appear that Ebony was more solid than usual, more real. But to a witch, a wizard, or any other truly skilled magical worker, they would have known precisely what was going on.
    Ebony was a second from busting down the crypt door, and potentially walking in on Death itself. Which is not something that happens every day.