Witch's Bell Book One

mother there. Her face strangely controlled. Her eyes weren't glinting gold, and her hair wasn't whistling around her like blossoms on the wind.
    Ebony swallowed. Of all the people that could have come-
    'You weren't expecting me, where you?' Avery Bell had two bony hands clutched over a large, painted-silk bag.
    Ebony just shook her head.
    'Really,' Avery took a breath, 'who else could it be? You think either Ben or your father could protect you from a proper magical attack? While your father would certainly put up a good fight, I'd rather him not stress his joints.'
    Ebony hadn't thought, had she? It wasn't as if having a detective with a gun was going to be any deterrent to a proper magical onslaught. You could shoot at the apparition, but that was just going to make it very angry.
    Still, her mother....
    'And as for that other one, your little chevalier, well,' Avery seemed to roll the words around in her mouth, as if savoring the taste. 'While it seems there might be nothing he can't do, I'd rather do this one myself.'
    Ebony just nodded, staring down at her feet for some reason.
    It was a strange thing, but Ebony hadn't ever had a particularly bad relationship with her mother. While the whole no-magic punishment thing had certainly been a blow, there hadn't been too many witchy domestics in the past. For the most of it, both of them just went their separate ways. Avery Bell was a big believer, after all, in a witch finding her own feet, on her own ground, in her own time.
    Avery handed the bag over to Ebony, a little crackle of electricity escaping along her skin. The first sign that Ebony's mother truly wasn't that human.
    Ebony peeked inside, and her face practically lit up. It wasn't a rubber-tubing top, it wasn't happy Christmas slacks, it wasn't a paint-accident top from the 80's. No. Inside was a gorgeous, flaring, white skirt. It had delicate little cherry blossoms embroidered along the hem, and light netting to give it a touch of volume. There was a soft, cream, silk blouse as well. It had slight ruffles, dips, and twists – but looked as elegant as anything you'd find in the pages of a vintage Vogue. There was a pair of sweet little high-heels too, in a soft lavender with white trimming.
    Ebony couldn't help but smile.
    'I figured you wouldn't mind looking good,' her mother kept her straight, elegant pose – but her mouth seemed softer than usual – less drawn and formal.
    Ebony clapped her hands. Finally, finally, she could walk into the police station and not bother that she looked like the patched together remnants from a costume train-wreck.
    'Time to go,' her mother dipped her head to the side.
    Ebony nodded. 'I'll just go and change.'
    Her mood shifted the instant she put on her new clothes. She ran a hand along the soft fabric of her top, simply drinking in its quality. She didn't have a mirror in Harry's shop, so she was using the reflection off one of the back windows to check herself out. Even though her reflection was blurred and pinched by the old, warped glass – it didn't matter.
    'You have a long day ahead of you, little witch,' her mother called out. 'Come on out and face it.'
    Ebony, though having not entirely forgiven her mother yet, still smiled as she walked out. There was something about the gift of wondrous clothes, especially at a time when Ebony felt her most vulnerable and frumpy, that was the greatest peace-offering a girl could get.
    Her mother winked and smiled. 'Beautiful.'
    Ebony simply patted down her skirt in reply, and resisted the urge to do a twirl. It was odd, but the only thing that seemed to be popping into her head was Nate. She smiled to herself. 'How are we going to travel?'
    'Why my dear, we're going to walk,' Avery Bell clasped her hands in front of herself in her usual careful, proper manner.
    'Walk?' Ebony repeated, lips jutting open. 'But you're a Coven witch. Don't you think the bin-men are going to get a little shocked when your hair starts turning blue and crackling?'
    'I will control myself. It is a nice day. And I haven't simply walked for...' Avery's eyes seemed to shift a little, finally returning to their original blue-gray, 'years.' She looked back up at her daughter, expression unreadable.
    Was this a peace offering? The clothes, the offer to walk Ebony to the police station? Was Avery Bell saying sorry without actually going through the formality of using the word?
    Or would she start haranguing Ebony the moment they got through the door?