Witch's Bell Book One by Odette C. Bell

Author:Odette C. Bell [Bell, Odette C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Odette C. Bell
Published: 2011-07-17T22:00:00+00:00

12

Ebony was having a strange day. It was a Friday and technically the end of the working week, but that didn’t stop it from being strange.

She’d finally figured out this whole public-transport thing and had settled on walking to work instead. She’d found a route that managed to get her from her own door and up to the dusty top floor of the Vale Police Department in 45 minutes. And while once upon a time, she wouldn’t have ever bothered walking such a distance, this was no longer a strategy she could afford to enjoy. It had taken her three days to realize that if you knew how long it took to walk somewhere, you had to give yourself that much time plus a little extra in order to make your appointment. No longer could she rely on some handsome wizard zooming past on his Harley, just in time to whip her across town.

Despite having finally calculated the distance and time it took to walk to the police station, she was late again that morning. She didn’t allow enough extra time for the extraordinary. Despite no longer being a witch and consequently being incapable of sensing or overtly attracting the magical – that didn’t mean she wasn’t a magnet for the weird and unexpected. It just meant the weird that did come her way wasn’t waving a wand, chanting spells, or throwing lightning bolts. That still left a whole universe of mundane-strange to get all up in her face.

On one street corner, while she silently walked past – her pink polo shirt and Christmas red-and-green slacks making her stick out like a nude in a nunnery – a couple burst out from the restaurant behind her. They proceeded to stand either side of Ebony, as they all waited for the lights to change, and continue their incredibly loud domestic.

“Well, what do you want?!” the woman in tights and a puffy chiffon top screamed at the man. “You don’t know, do you?”

The man, who was wearing a well-cut suit, but whose breath smelled like cheap and nasty alcohol, scoffed. “Sorry?” he snapped, his hand patting his chest like a one-armed gorilla asserting dominance. “I don’t know what I want? Are you for real?”

Ebony stood there, concentrating on the set of traffic lights.

“Of course I’m for real, you idiot,” the woman spat back, her large hoop-earrings dangling around her neck like insects around a light.

“You’re not hearing me,” the man said, louder than a foghorn. “You don’t know what you want,” he repeated.

The woman rolled her eyes, crossing her arms with such a labored expression, it seemed as if she was dragging shut giant, cast-iron gates. “Mark, you’ve never known what you want.”

With that, the lights changed, and Ebony shot forward like a horse at the races.

Must beat them, she thought with primal urgency. She didn’t want to be dragged into this hilariously uncomfortable fight.

So Ebony powered on, thinking the worst was behind her when she made it to the police department.

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