Witch's Bell Book One

cup on Shirley's desk – the one with the crazy happy face painted on it. Ebony also made out the desktop background image on Michelle's computer – a photo of a squirrel holding a nut, looking wide eyed and shocked, as the caption confidently announced that it was about to get it's nuts busted.
    Little tiny details of personality now blinked out at Ebony like brightly wrapped Easter eggs hidden in a familiar room. She'd never seen these things, but now she couldn't help but notice them.
    'Ebony,' Ben marched up to her, eyebrows peaking at the sight of her strange clothes, 'you mugged by hippies? Is that why you're so late?' he quickly added, pointing at his watch.
    Ebony didn't have an immediate response; she just shrugged, tipping her unkempt hair over one shoulder. It was strange, but she was suddenly noticing how comfortable her shoes were. Ebony usually wore the most ridiculous, toe-incarcerating shoes, just because they looked good. But now, well, she just stood there with nothing to say, but at least with happy feet.
    Ben ground his teeth, narrowing his eyes slightly. 'How many days since you've brushed your hair – it looks like rats are living in it?'
    Ebony just shrugged.
    'Okay,' Ben looked as though he was winding down, an odd, careful look starting to crop up on his face. 'So, are you feeling okay?' Ben's voice had an unusual edge.
    'I guess,' Ebony patted her hair away from her face with a heavy swipe of her hand. Her hair was usually as well behaved as a police dog - but now the stuff was as wild and impossible silly-string. 'They gave me drugs for the pain,' she shrugged again, starting to realize she must look like a disaffected youth. That or her shoulders were attached to strings like a puppet. 'The drugs are pretty good,' she added with a smile.
    Ben's eyes widened, but only slightly. 'Right,' is all he could manage.
    But before he could drag Ebony down to the drug squad, Nate walked up behind him. Nate's expressions ran the full gamut, just like Ben's had, but did so quicker. It was like watching a mime in fast forward. Finally the gruff Detective's face settled on raising an eyebrow and looking unimpressed. 'You trying out for the police musical?'
    Ebony didn't quip back, she just stood there. Her shoes were comfortable, she reminded herself, very comfortable.
    'Or did you cut up sheets from a cocaine party at an art college?' Nate smiled at his own joke, his chin dropping, and cheeks fattening.
    But, once again, Ebony didn't answer. She just took a little sigh and stood there.
    Blinking, Detective Nate narrowed his eyes.
    'So Eb,' Ben tried carefully, 'what was your prescription again?'
    'I haven't overdosed on drugs,' she said simply and just left it at that.
    Ben shook his head slightly, like a long haired dog trying to get its fur out of its eyes. 'Right. I mean, of course you haven't. Anyhow, ah, we've found you an office,' he said quickly.
    'Okay,' Ebony's voice was light, barely-there compared to her usual punchy tone. But it didn't feel so bad, she told herself almost adding in another shrug. It just felt different. Ebony found herself staring off at a random scuff mark on the wall, head filled with thoughts again. Not that a witch's head wasn't usually filled with thoughts - they were just more anchored than Ebony's current musings. She thought about the bus, about being late for work, about the many varied responses her clothes were eliciting - she thought about it all in a jumbled mess of random curiosity. How did it all fit together, her objective mind asked. All these colors, shapes, desires, emotions, uncertainties, and experiences?
    There was no doubt Ebony was feeling very philosophical, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it was darn-right appropriate because it was the Month of Rites, after all. Though Ebony had had a great deal else on her mind in the last several days, she also hadn't failed to notice that her little magical punishment corresponded perfectly with the most important month in a witch's year – the Month of Rites.
    You were meant to rewrite yourself anew for twenty-eight days, set up the year to come with the magical creativity and exactitude only a trained witch could muster. But now Ebony found herself without anything to write with, and with prodigious magical-writer's-block. All she could do at the moment was think - in a haphazard, awkward, undisciplined way. Which was going to lead to a terribly strange year, Ebony realized with a bare smile