Witch's Bell Book One

somehow been transported into the peaceful country somewhere, with nothing but pleasant pastures and wise old oaks to keep them company.
    Ebony sighed as she kept on staring up at the ceiling. Ordinarily, as a witch, she would never have slept upstairs with all these magical books. They would have given her frightful nightmares, or simply kept her awake with all their crackling and buzzing – like trying to sleep inside an electrical power substation.
    But it didn't matter to her now. In her current state, all Ebony was aware of was the comfortable, warm couch, and the peaceful silence.
    All her problems seemed far away, somewhat intangible, as if she were viewing them through a smokescreen. Academically she knew that she was in a lot of trouble, and that she really needed to start taking charge. But just for these few brief moments, it all seemed okay. It felt as if she could get to all that dire danger stuff later in the morning, after a cup of tea and a pastry. Right now, she could just stare around and huddle under the covers.
    She'd had a dream last night, or several maybe. In one she was staring down at her feet as she slowly realized she was standing in an ocean. The water was azure-blue, and yet shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow. She could make out the beautiful, sparkling shoals of fish darting underneath her, and the banks of coral climbing up the sandy and rock encampments. With such wonder and color beneath her, it had taken Ebony some time to realize that, without magic, you couldn't simply stand on top of the ocean – it was made of water, after all. And so she'd sunk, feet losing all purchase, as her body dunked itself.
    There had been another dream too. Ebony had been walking through a fantastic store, with a purse simply full of money. The store had level after level of counters and shops. Some sold gemstones of such deep, rich color, that they looked as if they were the encased remnants of galaxies or stellar gas-clouds. Other shops sold silk scarves of such fine quality, that they seemed lighter than the air itself. One store had every painting you could ever imagine, all strung up on its huge walls in gilded, carved, and gorgeous frames. Another store sold books with the most wondrous covers that you could imagine – with titles that promised more adventure, romance, and action, than you could hope for. A final counter was covered in statues of all shapes and sizes – some of people, some of animals, some of ancient gods and goddesses. The statues were made out of all sorts of materials – glass for the body, bronze for the hands, glittering jewels for the eyes, and fine gold wire for the hair.
    Ebony walked through that entire store, with a purse so full she could likely buy whatever she wanted. But in the end she didn't buy a thing. She was too busy roaming around, trying to take in the enormity of what was on offer, that she forgot to actually purchase anything for herself.
    She shook her head and sighed. Strange dreams, and probably meaningful in their own way. Then again, everything has meaning, doesn't it? The universe is either meaningful, or it is chaotic – it cannot be both. And a meaningful universe simply seemed to be a more appealing one.
    Finally Ebony extricated herself from the covers, throwing them off with a sigh, and jumping off the couch.
    Someone was meant to come and pick her up today, to take her to the police station. While Harry's certainly was safe for her right now, so was the station. With the amount of magical defenses. built into that place, the Devil himself would probably think twice about taking it on without at least a couple of hexing rocket-launchers.
    She would search through every single file, she told herself determinedly, and she would find what she was looking for. Yes, she didn't know what that thing was – she had no real clue what this whole situation was about. But she knew that she could know, and that was what drove her forward. It was a hypothetical in a situation full of undesirables and uncertainties. But it was something to cling to, nonetheless.
    Ebony patted the banister as she trotted down the stairs. She glanced across at the grandfather clock she kept by the wall. She kept it mostly for the benefit of the customers, considering a witch never needed something else to count time for her. It read seven-thirty. She had half-an-hour until her ride would arrive to take her to the station, half-an-hour to make herself some