Witch's Bell Book One (51 page)

“
Oh, nothing really. I'm just
ascending here. Just realizing the true nature of reality. I'll be
done in a bit, honest.”

Nate just shook his head, his
expression mystified, but a smile still on his lips.

Slowly Ebony settled. She took
a breath.
“Okay, let’s go.”

Chapter 23

There was an old witch saying. In
fact, it was a saying germane to all magical races. Find a way to
give back to the universe, and the universe will find a way to give
you double.

Spiraling reciprocal exchange.
That's what Ebony's mother called it. You gave to the universe, it
gave you more, then you gave it more in exchange, then it doubled
the offer
–
and so on.

It was how reality evolved. It was how
it created more out of itself. And it was the truth behind
magic.

It had only taken Ebony her whole life
to figure it out, but now it was a lesson well learned.

“
Nate,” she turned to him, the
shine of her realization starting to wear off, but not truly
departing her. “We have to end this.”

“
You keep saying that, but
how?”

Ebony looked to the side for a
moment, thinking.
“Find the man from the crypt, find Cecilia. Question them
till they squeal?” Ebony shrugged. “We could give it a go. Threaten
them with an eternity in damnation until they tell us who has been
helping them.”

Nate crossed his arms.
“That's a terrible
plan. You think if it was that easy, I wouldn't have dragged them
both down to the station already? I'm immune to their charms,
Ebony, I can see through their spell. But I'm not stupid enough to
think I can just walk up to them and ask them to tell me who they
have working for them.”

“
Then we find another wa—” Ebony
began.

But then the door opened. And not with
a gentle creak, but with a bang.

Nate piled into Ebony, knocking her to
the ground just as the door handle came whizzing by her
ear.

Several figures walked in, footsteps
heavy.

Nate grabbed at Ebony, pulling her to
her feet. Then he stood before her, sword outstretched. His back
was stiff, his posture strong, and he held his sword with such
determination that a titan wouldn't be able to wrestle it from his
grip.

In short, he looked like a
knight.

Three figures stood in the
doorway. The man from the crypt, Cecilia Grimshore, and
....

“
A dragon?” Nate hissed. “Are
you serious? You have a dragon working for you?”

The man
... no, the thing, standing in
front of Cecilia was incredible. It had the form of a large human
male, but that was it. It was even crammed into clothes, but that
wouldn't fool anyone into thinking it was a person. Its skin
crackled and erupted with fire, as if it were the surface of some
planet being swallowed by the sun. Its eyes were two dents in its
flesh – two holes that stared out with dead, black
stones.

And its mouth, its mouth was enormous.
Far beyond anything human, far beyond anything natural. It was
grotesque, its jaw jutting out a good half-a-meter, its lips
blackened skin. A bright white fire burnt from deep within its
throat, the light appearing to burst through its skin like blood
seeping from a wound.

Ebony swallowed. She'd never seen a
dragon, but she'd thought they'd be more, well,
lizard-like

Nate readied his sword.

Cecilia laughed.
“Oh, that's won't
do, Detective, that simply won't do.” She cocked her head, her hair
touching at her long neck. “I would put that sword down and save
yourself the trouble,” she finished with a smile.

Ebony kept her eyes on the man
from the crypt.
“Who are you?” she asked, jaw clenched. “I mean, I still
don't even know you name!”

Cecilia laughed easily, and the
man joined in after a moment.
“At a time like this, you worry that you haven't
been properly introduced?” Cecilia pressed her lips together.
“Aren't you a strange one, Ebony Bell. How delicious that you'll be
the one to complete our spell. How is it working, by the way? Are
you beginning to feel lighter yet? Is the weight of your life
simply lifting from your shoulders?” she clasped her hands
together, taking a sudden breath. “Are you giving over to Death?
Are you letting your impotent little life be rewritten for the
purposes of something grander, something far greater?”

“
Wow,” Ebony tucked her wrists
behind her back, “you are just as mad as your friend. I mean, I
guess you would be, considering you were dumb enough to get
played.”

“
Get played?” the gaunt man said
carefully. “You are foolish, witch. We are the ones in charge, we
are the ones—”

“
Who don't have a clue about
what's after you,” Nate supplied, keeping his eyes on the
dragon.

Cecilia blinked
carefully.
“No one is after us. We are the Grimshores. Our family has
been at the center of Vale for almost a century. We own this silly
town, and very soon we'll own that silly witch,” she smiled at
Ebony, “very soon.”

“
Shut up,” Nate re-gripped his
sword. “You don't have the book; you can't consummate the spell
yet. You have nothing but a trumped up dragon and a lifetime full
of mistakes.”

“
Tell me,” Ebony pressed her
fingers together, welling the magic into the tips of her skin. She
was ready to fight, when it would come to that. “Who was helping
you? Was it a wizard, was it a witch? Did you pay them off? Did you
promise to make them rich if only they helped you continue your
hold on Vale?”

Cecilia narrowed her
eyes.
“You
don't have a clue—”

“
A clue? You want a clue? Here's
a clue, dear Miss Grimshore. If I hadn't interrupted your little
Death-Summoning, you would have been the one dying. You were set
up, and set up well. Neither of you must know much about magic
because everything – from trying to summon Death, to what you were
wearing – was bringing things towards you.”

“
Things?” Cecilia said, voice
incredulous. Though there was a hint of uncertainty about her
gaze.

“
Things. Of the horrible, and
terribly powerful variety. Whoever you thought was working for you,
they weren't. They were setting you up, like a magical buffet. Just
waiting for a creature to come your way and gobble you
down.”

Cecilia shot a quick glance at
the gaunt man and then returned her gaze to Ebony.
“I don't believe
you,” her voice was high. “The Treasure wouldn't have lied. The
Treasure has kept my family safe, powerful for decades.”

“
The Treasure?” Nate asked
quickly. “What's the Treasure—”

Cecilia laughed, and it wasn't
pleasant. It was the kind of laugh that can only be associated with
the criminally insane or the astoundingly vicious.
“I'm done here.
Dragon,” her voice was commanding, “kill the man and seize the
witch.”

The dragon didn't need to be told
twice, and instantly leaped toward Nate. Even though it had the
form of a human, it moved like a beast. It crouched down until its
hands were on the ground, then used its legs to spring
forward.

Nate tracked back. He threw an arm out
to Ebony, knocking her to the floor and out of the path of the
dragon.

Then the thing let out a ball of
flame. It shot towards Nate, and he barely had time to put his
sword up to block the flow.

Despite the fact it was simply metal
against flame, the broadsword managed to stem the flow. The flame
dispersed along the blade, as if the metal was a vacuum, sucking
the fire inside itself.

As Nate fought the dragon, the gaunt
man shifted. He quietly reached inside a sleeve, pulling out a
knife. It wasn't just any knife though; it was the same sacred
knife he'd used in the crypt. The same knife he'd used to slash
Ebony, the same knife that had drawn her blood, and that had set
their spell in motion.

It was still tinged red.

The man pointed her way.
“Your blood,” he
mouthed.

A cold shiver passed over her
skin.

For just a second it seemed
that Ebony and the man were alone in the room. Cecilia, Nate, the
dragon
–
they all disappeared from Ebony's awareness as she focused in on
the knife.

Blood is a powerful thing. You can't
live without blood. Blood is what carries the oxygen, the life
around your body. It is movement, and without movement, you stop.
Stop too long and you'll die.

The man ran a finger carefully across
the blade, collecting some of the crusted blood underneath a
yellowed fingernail.

What was he going to do with
it?

“
You think I don't know about
magic, witch? You think I don't know about you, about your knight,
about the creatures waiting on the Other Side?” the man sighed.
“Unfortunately for you, you are dead wrong.”

Ebony became very cold.

Very cold.

The man brought the blood-caked finger
up to his mouth and blew.

The dried blood moved to the left. It
moved to the right. It moved up. It moved down. It moved
everywhere.

Ebony doubled over. Within her, she
could feel her blood reverse, shift, agitate.

She lost force, lost momentum. Where
once there was order, where once there was directed flow, there was
now chaos.

She pulled in on herself. Fell to the
floor. Fell to her knees. Fell to her hands. Fell to her
face.

Her cheek was cold against the rug,
though from within she melted from a ferocious, unyielding
blaze.

“
Power feeds power, child,” the
man said, voice by her ear, even though he wasn't standing near
her. “And you are just the offering I need. Succumb, or be
overcome.”

Ebony gaped, mouth opening, unable to
control her voice, unable to control her muscles.

Unable to control anything.

“
That which is more powerful has
more power, child, it is a tautology of universal importance. It
maintains the Order,” the voice still echoed by her ear. “That
which is above is higher than that which is below. You cannot fight
the order. You cannot fight that which is above, you can only
succumb.”

Fight?

Order?

Power?

Snippets of thoughts, cuttings of
memories, slices of feelings. Ebony's reality, her life, all
swirled before her, like a choppy sea under the work of a ferocious
gale.

Nothing to hold on to. Nothing to grab
to stop from sinking under.

Nothing, but the movement
itself.

When left with nothing clear, nothing
solid, then you are left only with movement. And movement is all
there is anyway.

Ebony managed to close her eyes. She
managed to close her mouth. She managed to close her
mind.

And all she found there was movement.
So she latched onto it, and followed.

“
Don't fight it, you can't fight
it,” the man warned.

She wasn't fighting it, she was
following it. She tracked through her mind, through every memory
she had. She clutched at the thread that bound them all. The silver
thread of soul.

She wrapped herself around it, and
pulled.

....

Ebony Bell took a breath. Opened her
eyes. Saw what was outside.

The man took a hiss of
breath.
“Don't fight it!” his voice pitched high.

She pushed into her hands, pulled
herself to her feet. She hung there for a moment, like a puppet
loose on its strings.

Then she moved. She pulled her hands
in front of her, pulled at the magic in her mind.

“
Submit,” the man said, jaw
locked.

“
No. No, I won't. You can't have
my magic, you can't have my life, and you can't have my
story.”

The man's eyes widened, his yellowed
skin growing pale.

“
You need me to give up, but I
won't, “she said. “You need me to stop writing my own story, in
order for you to rewrite it. You need me to give up my power, in
order for you to take it. I refuse.”

Then the man, his teeth
grating, flared his nostrils.
“You will not succeed—”

“
I don't have to, I just have to
not give up,” Ebony brought her hands in front of her, felt the
magic pooling in her body.

You don't have to get what you want;
you just have to want it. And she didn't want to give
up.

Ebony clutched her fingers together,
calling fire, calling water, calling earth, and calling
air.

She unfurled her hands at the man,
pushing them outwards as if she were trying to push at the space
between them.

The floor moved beneath him, the air
descended from above.

He stumbled forward, face compressing
with anger. He slashed at her with the dagger, bringing it around
in a wide arc.