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

she was sure no one was paying
her too much attention, Ebony opened out the file on the cast iron
of her outside table. Though she was never usually so public about
her work, and was certain Ben would have a fit if he knew what she
was doing, Ebony didn't care today. She was always sure to cast a
babbledegook spell over all her important documents. Ensuring that
if any non-magical person, or someone outside the confines of the
Pact, saw the documents, all they'd see is a bunch of images and
words that meant nothing at all. So what did it matter if she chose
to read in the sun, rather than in her stuffy store?
    “ Hmm,” Ebony ran a finger around
the rim of her glass, collecting the excess chocolate sauce, and
popping it in her mouth, “what have we here?”
    There were seven or so cases in total,
ranging from the innocent to the criminally bizarre. In one case a
university student had become just a bit too interested in some
reproduction of a rare grimoire he'd found on the Internet, and
accidentally summoned a monkey-demon. The demon had quickly gotten
out of his control, trashed his basement apartment, and escaped,
only to be found later by police, taunting the other monkeys at the
zoo. The student in question had been brought in, given a warning,
and had voluntarily agreed to have his future Internet searches
filtered for potential accidental-zoological-summoning. The monkey
had quickly been sent back from whence it had come, but only after
it had managed to steal two police hats, one badge, four cups of
coffee, and Ben's lucky tie.
    Ebony giggled to herself. It was
remarkable how much of the crime they dealt with was essentially
random. Just accidents from people who had no idea what they were
doing. They'd run into a spell on a chat room, buy a strange book
from a store, or accidentally pick up cursed souvenirs from their
overseas travels.
    By and large, they didn't mean
to do these things, and they certainly had no idea what magic was.
It was all just accidental. Which while it was sometimes annoying,
Ebony noted, was better than the alternative. Accidents were
random, patterns weren't. Patterns always linked back to purposes.
Patterns had points, had meaning, were part of stories. And
stories ...
they had power.
    Ebony remembered, with an
uncomfortable tingle along her spine, that terrible day she'd had
with Flora several weeks ago. Sheesh, that fool was infuriating.
She had no clue, simply no clue. Ebony had warned her in, all
sincerity, that powerful-magic performed without patterns
attracted ... others. The one-time, accidental cases Ebony was
looking at now weren't the same thing. A ratty kid in a basement
that accidentally summons the monkey of death is only going to make
that type of mistake once. And while it is technically possible
that some passing force might latch onto his purposeless-magic, it
is unlikely. But the more someone practiced purposeless-magic, the
more likely it became that they'd attract attention from all the
wrong kinds of creatures.
    Flora was playing a very stupid game.
She was playing with something she didn't understand. Like a child
playing with a lighter and petrol, she'd probably be surprised when
it all blew up in her face.
    It was the entire point of magic,
after all, that it had a purpose. Magic was used to make the
unlikely possible. It brought about mini-miracles, small pockets of
the incredible. And just like a miracle, magic had to be part of a
story. You called on magic when you needed something. When you
stared into the face of the undesirable-probable, and somehow
plucked the impossible out of it. Magic was at its best when it was
finding fire-swords for heroes in need, or reducing the shackles of
the bound to sudden piles of dust, or giving wings to the damsel
flung off the wall of the castle.
    Magic had to be part of a story for it
to be appreciated as magical. If magic was purposeless, if it just
happened for no reason, then it was nothing more than
chaos.
    It was the