Witch's Bell Book One

the man's face, making him darker and more foreboding than anything Ebony had ever seen.
    She ducked back, body seeming to move on its own, lips opening to let out a sharp gasp.
    She missed the fist, but barely.
    But the man came at her again, not letting up either his speed or the ferocity of his attack.
    Ebony wasn't thinking, she couldn't think. Which some part of her knew was for the best.
    No thoughts meant no restrictions, and no restrictions meant pure action.
    He tried to grab for her, lunging forward with his hands outstretched.
    Ebony backed up, twisting her bag off her arm and trying to wield it like a bat. Suddenly, with all thoughts of the fact she was or wasn't a witch gone, Ebony remembered. Or rather, her body did. All those years of training with her father – self defense, combat, and so on – it all came back to her hands, her arms, her legs, and her torso. She tensed in all the right places, loosened in others, and her memories simply took over like a well-oiled robot.
    She struck into the man with her bag, pivoting on her foot to try and get the maximum force into the move – like a baseball player twisting to hit a home run.
    But the bag just impacted the giant man as if it were no more forceful than a kitten batting his face with a soft little paw.
    Ebony ducked under another grab, tank-rolling to the side. She still had her bag in her hand, and clutched it like a grandmother going to the shops in the ghettos.
    What did this guy want?
    Ebony shivered at the possibilities, but still, too much of her mind was on autopilot, as her father's diligent lessons poured through her like NOS into a rally car.
    The man practically roared, virtually the first noise he'd made. And though it sounded human enough, it still had enough depth, desperation, and anger, to shake through Ebony like an exploding shell.
    He reached a hand into his pocket, pulling out a switch blade.
    Click.
    He flicked it open, expression a mixture of pure aggravation, and pure primal-anticipation.
    Ebony ducked back. Even despite her training, she was too small to do anything to this man. Her well-placed blow had been like a drop of rain trying to fell a mountain – impossible.
    Just who on Earth was he?
    One of the first lessons her father had taught her was know your limitations. And up until now, Ebony had always remembered it, but only vaguely. Because one of the first lessons of a witch, was to overcome your limitations. Simply having magic made a situation more unstable, less likely to go only in one direction. So just because this guy was five times heavier than her, and seemed to have the muscles of a titan, it wouldn't have mattered so much if magic was involved. It evened up the odds, made the winner the one who was the most creative – not necessarily the most overtly powerful – though power did usually triumph in the end.
    But the fact was, this guy was simply too powerful.
    He lunged at her again, quicker than his build should allow.
    Ebony twisted, turning her back to him just as he grabbed for her arms. Then she darted forward, falling to the ground, but managing to quickly roll forward to escape another grasp from the deadly, silent giant.
    But just as she stood up, finally deciding to make a dash for it, the man managed to get a hold of her. One of his massive hands latched onto the ends of her ponytail, like a climber grabbing a safety rope. Then he pulled her backwards with a yank, viciously grabbing at her bag and pulling it from her grip.
    But just as his form overshadowed her, and Ebony's heart sank into a pit of no return, she made out the sound of another set of footsteps. They were light, but solid, and they were heading towards them faster than a cheetah over the savannah.
    Something knocked into the man, rugby tackling him in the side, and pushing onto the ground with a solid grunt. The man's knife spiraled out of his grip and into the darkness.
    Ebony scuttled backwards, like a crab before a crashing wave, pulling herself to her feet and resting her back against a cold brick wall.
    From the glint of the moon barely making it through the cracks between the buildings, she saw her knight in shining armor.
    'Nate!' she screamed quickly.
    There he was, her once annoying Detective Right, engaged in an epic wrestle with Ebony's attacker.
    She pushed herself off the wall, wanting to do something, wanting to help him, wanting to reach down and snap off these damn bracelets so she could -
    The man managed to