Witch's Bell Book One

descended, his usually titanic height cut in half as Nate powered into his side, Ebony ducked forward, perfume in hand. She quickly, elegantly, almost expertly, grabbed the lid off the perfume and threw the lot into the man's face – right into his wide, rage-filled eyes.
    He screamed in agony, clutching his meaty hands towards his face, finally allowing Nate to knock him off his feet.
    Ebony swallowed hard, realizing that if the man truly was magical in some way, then the alcohol would have been a blow to him. And if he wasn't magical, well, it would still sting a treat. The thing about alcohol was that it was used in a lot of magical spells in order to dilute them. If you had a powerful herb concoction, but you didn't want to burn someone's head off from all the concentrated magic, you'd dilute it in a solution of alcohol. Water wouldn't work. Water had exceedingly special magical qualities, being one of the necessities of life and all. But alcohol, alcohol was a known diluter.
    Nate tried to land a blow to the side of the man's head, probably trying to finally down the massive giant. But before he could, something started to happen.
    The air around them seemed to pinch in a little, as if a giant mouth was trying to suck in all the space.
    And there was a crackle too, as if an enormous thunderstorm was building above them.
    All signs of magic, Ebony realized almost detachedly. She couldn't sense the stuff, but she still knew all the symptoms of it. To someone who didn't have her magical past, it might seem simply as if the surroundings were growing more harsh, more erratic – or that their minds were frazzled with the adrenaline of the situation. But to Ebony, she knew what was going on.
    Something was being called back.
    She streaked forward, grabbing at Nate's arm just as he tried to get the man into a head lock. She pulled at him. 'Nate,' her voice was desperate, 'get back!'
    He was surprised by her intervention, but allowed himself to be pulled backwards. And just as he did, the pinching around them grew thicker. Ebony could feel it play against her skin as if she were being dragged through the air at the back of a plane – rushing, pulling, ripping.
    The pinching seemed to congregate around the man, making the space around him seem more concentrated. He suddenly had more form, more space, more shape, more color. But then, in an instant, he disappeared completely.
    For several seconds, Ebony and Nate simply stood there: Nate slack jawed and Ebony shaking.
    But her hand was still on Nate's arm.
    The ordinary sky seemed to fall in above them. The suffocating blanket, that had once covered the lane-way, seeming to lift to reveal the real world.
    Her hand was still on Nate's hand, her body still shaking from the shock, adrenaline, and intensity of the situation. After a moment, Nate put his own hand over hers, gently pulling it from his arm, but still holding onto it. 'Are you okay?' he said very clearly, very calmly.
    No, she wasn't. She'd just been attacked by magic when she was as defenseless as a newborn baby. She wasn't okay.
    'I'm going to call the police,' he said quickly, reaching a hand into his pocket.
    'We are the police,' she said bitterly, trying desperately not to cry.
    But just as the situation threatened to overwhelm her, Ebony's attention seemed to be drawn towards Nate's hand. It was warm, strong, and very there. It was an odd way to put it, but it was a strange fact of life that some things were more there than other things. There was more solidity, more presence, more gravity; more sheer thereness to certain things in life. And right now, it was exactly what Ebony needed holding her hand.
    Just as Nate reached into his pocket, Ebony looked up quickly. 'Hold on, we can't wait here-'
    'You mean that guy is going to come back?' Nate stiffened, eyes alarmed but calculating.
    'I don't know. We have to get somewhere safe though. I don't know where that guy came from. But we didn't beat him. He was just called back from whence he'd come.'
    'My car's out by your shop. I'll take us to the station,' Nate, hand still over Ebony's, began to pull her forward.
    She found herself running with him, her steps falling perfectly into sync with his. 'No, we don't have the time. That thing could easily come back while we're driving or pop right up in the car-'
    'I'll call for backup immediately-'
    Both of them finally burst out of the lane-way, the much-needed light of the moon, and the street lamps, enveloping