Witch's Bell Book One

had been regulated, modulated, and enhanced by magic?
    Things were different now, totally different. And the truth was starting to dawn on her that Ebony would simply not know how different things were, until she learned firsthand.
    'Where's your uniform, love?' the driver looked over at her, taking his eyes off the road without apparently caring about the circumstances.
    Ebony just wanted to ignore him. But with only the two of them in the cab, it was patently obvious that the man was talking to her – and she could hardly play deaf now. 'Oh, I don't have one, I'm not an officer...' she trailed off, immediately cursing her honesty. She wanted to add that she was, however, a witch, or would be again in a month. And if the man tried anything, she'd hex him so bad his teeth would fall out over his steering wheel.
    'What are you then, love?' the way he said "love" was reminiscent of a dog growling at intruders and it had just the same effect on Ebony.
    Ebony started to rub at her bracelets. 'I'm a... secretary,' it was incredibly far from the truth, but, ironically, the closest description she could actually give for her current job.
    'Well,' the man said with a truly disgusting leer erupting over his face, like a rash, 'that's okay then.'
    No, Ebony told herself, it really, really wasn't. 'How long until we get there?
    The man didn't answer straight away, just found some part of his mouth to chew on – as if he were some hideous zombie digesting itself. 'Traffic's pretty bad.'
    'Oh,' was all Ebony could manage.
    Then, unbidden, something came to the forefront of her mind. It was the strangest sensation – like being tapped on the shoulder by a memory, only to turn and find that it has run away from you.
    Ebony let the memory go, but in its place, the current situation returned.
    At least, Ebony admitted to herself with a quiet but shuddering sigh, the traffic was actually bad. It wasn't like the guy had driven up to a wall and announced he couldn't go on because there was something blocking the path. They were, in all honesty, in a traffic jam.
    Ebony receded into her seat, the feel of her rubber top against her hands sending shivers down her spine. Maybe it was her, she reasoned, and not the situation at all. Overreacting was not a term Ebony had never heard. In fact, her mother had constantly accused her of overreacting when Ebony had been growing up. Ben even shook his head sometimes when Ebony would come out with a fiery tirade directed at a magical abuser -'you're overreacting, Eb,' he'd say, 'tone it down'.
    So this might just be overreacting too, except the other side of it. While Ebony had always allowed herself to be fired up with the passion of a situation – defending something, attacking something, or just reveling in her confidant ability to take control – she'd hardly ever felt something like this. Now, rather than be taken by the power of confidence, she was sinking into the menace of uncertainty. It almost felt like the same feeling – but in reverse, like putting a jumper on your legs.
    She could feel herself getting caught up in the situation, surrendering to ever-more-terrible little imaginings of what might be. So, she was overreacting, right?
    But even the admission, if it was indeed true, wasn't enough to quell the swirling distrust inside. Whether Ebony didn't trust the cab driver, didn't trust the situation, or just didn't trust in herself to know how to act – it didn't matter, it was the feeling itself that was horrible.
    Just as Ebony felt more and more pressed, worried and unsure – her eyes jumped to the traffic ahead. There had obviously been some kind of accident, as the cars ahead of them were changing lanes whenever they could. Between the lanes of cars, if Ebony strained her neck, she could make out two cars turned around in the street, as if they were gates for the rest of the traffic. She couldn't see the flashing lights of ambulances or fire trucks, so hopefully whatever had happened hadn't been too serious.
    'You'll be getting to work late, love,' his voice growled again, sounding more and more like a terribly frightful dog at a gate. 'Might be another half-hour at this rate.' He ended with a hiccup of a laugh.
    Ebony twisted in her chair so he couldn't see the expression that formed on her face. Oh lord, she thought, could she actually spend the next half-hour in a car with this man? She might not have magic any more, and her usual intuitions were shot to pieces while