Witch's Bell Book One by Odette C. Bell Page A

that shiny allure that reminded everyone she wasn't just something ordinary – she was a witch. For the most part, the rest of the police department respected it too. They didn't pester her every five seconds for an explanation about her wondrous powers. They just asked her to do things; she did them – end of story. They let the magic live, she reminded herself, by not prodding it into explanations all the time. But then the idiot Chevalier had to come along – Detective Nathan Wall – and he was so cram packed with questions, Ebony was starting to feel like a full-time kindergarten teacher.
    If he wasn't being rude and insensitive, he was asking her to explain her every move. 'Does it matter? I mean, I'm a witch – isn't that explanation enough?'
    'No,' he said blankly, 'because I asked how you knew, not why you knew.'
    Ebony gave a very loud, very obvious sigh. 'Why do you even want to know? So you can debunk it? Offer up some better, Detective Wall pre-approved explanation that's had all the magic stripped right from it?'
    'Blimey, you'd think I'm asking you for a kidney. All I'm asking-'
    'Is for me to explain something that can't be explained. I'd rather give you the kidney. There's something you obviously don't get about magic, and it's frankly doing my head in. You don't get to think about in your ordinary every day ways. Magic isn't the same as newspapers, coffee, and cold fusion. It doesn't fit into convenient definitions that you pin up alongside science and reason for an easy and ready comparison. Magic isn't understandable – but that doesn't make it unbelievable either. Magic, Detective Wall, isn't a giant lollipop covered cake-house in the forest. It's not silly tales of golden hair and porridge. It's not fairy godmothers giving their charges ridiculously specific curses – that type of stuff has been really stamped down. No, Magic is when you catch a glimpse through a window into another world.' Ebony could feel her cheeks redden as the conversation took hold of her, the words just bubbling to get out like magma from an erupting volcano. 'Though I doubt you've ever even had such an experience, as you're as square and blank as a bathroom tile. But magic is little moments of wonder, different from all that other rubbish that tumbles through your day – little moments full of a prickly power that make you amaze at life's possibilities, rather than routines. Magic is magical.' Ebony finally took an immense breath and just sat there, daring Nate to respond to such a sudden, but soulful outburst.
    He didn't immediately reply with a well rehearsed "really, of course", in fact, it took him some time to respond at all. 'I know the feeling, Ebony. Trust me.'
    And that's all he said. Short, careful, and precise. Very not like Detective Nate, Ebony thought with pressed-lipped annoyance. How dare he just leave it there, really, what on Earth did he mean? Ebony began to grind her teeth in soft, silent rage.
    Before Ebony could give Nate's chair another hearty kick, Ben threw a devilish corner that took them skidding up the narrow road that led to the cemetery. Vale Cemetery was situated on a hill that was set several minutes outside the city limits. It was an imperious place, with a direct view of the city below, and the mountains behind. Vale was a sprawling metropolis set with its back to a ragged mountain range, and its mouth to a river that led directly to the sea. large, wide highways ran along the coast, either side of Vale, connecting her to the rest of the country like a knot in a chain.
    From the cemetery you could see the city below, the ocean beyond, and the mountains behind. You could walk in one direction and peer over the old sandstone wall, and only see the lights, grays, browns, and blacks of the city below. You could trick yourself into thinking that that was all there was – just the stacks, buildings, roads, warehouses, silos, depots, and houses of Vale City. But as soon as you walked to another