Witch's Bell Book One

'but I'm actually just about to close.'
    'Oh of course, dear, it's very late,' the woman said earnestly, then smiled a very friendly, very grandmotherly smile. 'You have a good weekend, though. And I'll leave the pamphlet here for you,' she patted it down onto the counter. 'Good bye, now!' she gave a cheerful wave and walked out the door.
    Ebony just shook her head, not really grasping what had just happened, but suddenly feeling too tired to care. She quickly marched over to the door and locked it, taking the open-sign off completely.
    'Thanks for that, Harry,' she quipped as she tossed the sign onto the counter. 'Just what I needed.'
    Harry didn't respond.
    Ebony just sighed. Okay, enough of today, she thought bitterly, time to go home.
    She'd have to walk though, she realized with a strange pang in her stomach. And even though her house was remarkably close to the shop – it would still be dark outside.
    You'll be fine, she told herself with a bare smile. 'I'm going home now, Harry, you have a good night.'
    Harry responded by apparently tipping over a box of books in the corner, several heavy tomes spilling out and piling over Ebony's feet.
    She rolled her eyes. He was like a child who didn't want to be left alone, and who knew the best way to punish his parents was to destroy their stuff. But still, at least he was communicating with her, she realized, as she stooped to pick up the books.
    She looked down at the books as she gathered them into her arm and piled them neatly onto the counter. They all had decidedly odd names, like "Death in the Middle: When You Can't get from the Beginning to the End", and "What a Girl Wanted", and "What do you Want? A Powerful Self Help Guide to Writing Yourself Anew".
    Ebony frowned; obviously Harry was playing some kind of a joke on her. She'd never seen these books before, and judging by their ridiculous names, they probably weren't real to begin with. Just strange tomes Harry had conjured up to make some kind of point.
    But what that point was, Ebony didn't care. She didn't have the brains to deal with today any more. It was just too strange. So Ebony finished arranging the books and quickly marched out the door, locking it behind her, but still remembering to give the door an affectionate pat.
    Ebony walked off into the night, her arms closing around her in an effort to keep the cold out. But no matter how much she tried to huddle into herself, she couldn't shake the strange feeling of cold that settled in her stomach as if she'd just swallowed a kilo of ice.
    As she turned down the lane-way that cut across to her home street, the chill only grew thicker – more smothering, as if she was now buried deep under a snow drift, with little chance of ever escaping.
    It wasn't until she was halfway through the dark lane-way that she heard the heavy steps behind her.
    Thud, thud, thud.

Chapter Thirteen
    E bony's heart began to pound, but not in the usual way. Usually when you were scared or startled by a sudden noise, all that would happen would be your heart might rattle in your chest, or you might hear it thumping in your ears. Now Ebony found herself distinctly aware of it pulsing away so unmistakably, it was as if she was feeling her heart for the very first time.
    What to do. The footsteps continued behind her, getting louder and heavier by the second. Ebony continued her pace, more out of sheer indecision than out of the will to get to the mouth of the lane-way as soon as possible. Not that exiting onto her home street would probably make any difference. It was probably quarter-to-ten already - no one would be around. She could scream, of course, but what good would that do? If all her neighbors were huddled indoors either asleep or watching the TV, would they even hear her?
    Indecision swirled around her in a blinding fog, as if Ebony had just walked into a room clogged full of smoke.
    If she had still been a witch, well, this wouldn't be a problem. She'd turn, face the man, and hex him so hard he'd likely become a puddle of criminal-goo dripping into the drains.
    But she wasn't a witch. She was simple, ordinary Ebony.
    A hand reached out of the darkness, grabbing at her shoulder and pulling her to with a powerful wrench.
    Ebony twisted, surprised by the sudden attack. She'd thought she'd had time.
    Out of the darkness a fist moved towards her face, angling down from the arm of an awful, gruff, broken face. The shadows of the barely lit lane-way all seemed to coalesce on