Witch's Bell Book One

time, umming and arring about going inside to call the cab company up to see where on Earth their man was – but not wanting to duck inside just as the cab rolled up, only to have him leave immediately. So she'd stood there, ignoring the stares from passing pedestrians and the bin-men who were there to take out the street's trash and recycling. Unlike the creepy and frankly rude comments and looks she'd received yesterday, today Ebony seemed to have crossed over the threshold of funny freak, to weirdo. One gruff-looking bin man with a limp cigarette hanging out of his mouth gave Ebony such a confused but intrigued look, that he obviously thought her top was a spaghetti monster from Mars.
    Ebony had just shook her head. Tonight, she told herself firmly, she was definitely going to get into her wardrobe and see what was going on. Where had all her real clothes gone? And where were all these hideous, peculiar, downright bizarre clothes coming from? Ebony tried to pat down the rubber tubing of her rah-rah top, and just sighed.
    When the cab had finally rolled up, Ebony had piled in, a very stiff smile on her lips. Once again she hadn't had the time to cram on make-up, but once again she doubted whether anyone was going to take their eyes off her clothes long enough to look at her face.
    The cab driver was chewing gum, very pungent gum, and almost gassed Ebony as he chuckled in her face. 'Sorry, love,' he said with a voice that was half a laugh, half a snarl, 'traffic's bad. Been an accident, or somfin,' he gave another chuckle, as if accidents, or “somfins” where commonly funny things. 'So, where you off to?'
    Ebony, who had finally remembered to take her bag, clutched it to the front of her like a riot shield. 'The police station,' she said, fingers digging into the red and yellow leather like someone holding onto a rope in a blizzard. If her outfit was wild today, then her bag was more so. Once again, Ebony wasn't quite sure where it had come from – she didn't remember buying it, or laughing at the person who might have given it to her. Because, after all, the bag was less of a bag, and more of a gag. It was big – as if Ebony was intending to carry around the kitchen sink, tissues, her wallet, and a buffet for thirty. It was also louder than a barrel full of monkeys. The exact hues of the yellow and red leather clashed so much that they might as well have been titans in an epic battle for Earth.
    'Police station?' the man's face squeezed up so tightly it seemed as if his nose was a black hole that was sucking the rest of his features in with a slurp.
    'Yes, I work there.'
    The man shot Ebony a glance that said more, and in a more eloquent way, than the man was probably capable of phrasing. His eyes narrowed, pressing in at the sides as if he was in pain, or calculating some terrible sum. His bottom teeth pressed out over his slightly yellowed lips, and his cheeks moved up a touch. He wasn't smiling though, there wasn't a single bit of levity to be found anywhere on his expression. It was simply as dark as dark could be.
    And as a former witch, Ebony knew just how dark the dark could get.
    She turned her head to the front, wondering whether she could just get out of the cab now. She didn't particularly want to be stuck with this man for the ten minutes, or so, that it would take to get to work. But before she could mutter a sorry and leave, the cab drew out from the curb with a splatter of its engine.
    Ebony found herself biting concertedly on her lips. Once again, she was feeling an emotion she wasn't entirely familiar with – this strange, erratic, uncontrollable swirl that seemed to engulf her gut in waves. It was fear, she knew that much. But it wasn't the kind of fear she'd usually felt as a witch. She'd always either had enough raw power, or knowledge, to get herself out of most situations – or avoid getting into them in the first place. But now... well, ah....
    Ebony kept chewing on her lips. clutching at her bag because she simply had to do something with the tension building in her hands.
    You have combat skills, her rational brain tried to convince her, your father taught you everything you need to know about self-defense. Yes, her emotional mind conceded with a little shudder, but that was no comfort at all. While, academically, Ebony knew how to flip a man – how much of the practicality of that had relied on magic in the past? Her senses, her intuitions, her gut feelings – how many of them