Page 44 of Fallen Angel

“In the meantime, your magic is protective of you. You can feel it communicating with you, and in time, you shall be able to communicate back.”

“If Raven had all this power, then why did she die?”

Callan paused, but kept looking ahead, deep into the forest. Sunlight peered through yellow and orange leaves. His skin shone golden brown. “I ask myself that question every day.”

They arrivedat a clearing in the woods, and it was exactly the same as Hannah remembered from the memory spell and her vivid dream of burning at the stake. The tall post even remained in the center of the open space, decaying and shaded by overhanging branches. A tension hung between them as they both stared at the stake—Callan with a look of shame, and Hannah fighting off the lingering heat she felt and the phantom scent of seared flesh from the memory of Raven’s execution.

Hannah pulled the grimoire from her bag. She threw it on the ground and paced around it. “What now? How do we destroy it?” she asked.

“Burning it shall be a good start.”

Hannah nodded.

Callan leaned over the book. Hatred filled his face as he hovered his hands over its leather binding. “Be rid of these pages, this book of malice and dread. Burn its binding, never again to be read.”

The grimoire erupted in flames, but the fire didn’t curl the binding or burn the brittle pages. Callan continued, “Fight through its magic with lightning’s flash, dissolve its evil to eternal ash!”

A bright stream of lighting shot down from the sky and struck Mara’s grimoire with a relentless roar. Hannah shrieked and fell backward. She was overcome by the memory of the white light that pierced through her parents’ car and the look of terror on her mother’s face.

The same look appeared on Hannah’s; blood drained from her cheeks, and pressure rose in her chest. Callan broke his focus and glanced at Hannah over his shoulder. The lightning ceased, and he dashed to her side.

Despite clutching onto the red and yellow leaves against the earth, Hannah could feel the cold water rise higher and higher, drowning the car. Her breath was fast and erratic. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“It is all right. I should have remembered,” Callan said. He reached his hand under her thick hair and caressed her neck.

But Hannah wasn’t apologizing to Callan for freaking out. She was apologizing to her parents. She saw them struggle as they inhaled the unrelenting water, eventually fading to stillness—their expressions transitioning from panic and fear to absolute nothingness. She tried to ground herself from the flashback by holding onto Callan’s side, bunching his sweatshirt in her hand, but was overcome by a new vision she had never seen before.

Hannah choked back water as she watched life fade from her parents. Her eyes soon matched their vacancy, her body having submitted to drowning. In the next second, however, a flash of white light darted from Hannah’s chest and snapped her seatbelt. Another vast strike of light burst the car door open. It pushed Hannah out of the sunken car. Enveloped in glowing orbs, she was brought to the surface. It ushered her ashore, Hannah lying unconscious against the muddy embankment. The glimmering light settled above her chest and dissolved inside of her.

Hannah gasped for air as she broke out of the memory. But this wasn’t a memory of hers, as she never knew how she made it to the bank of the lake. This must have been her magic showing her whatitremembered from that night. It rescued her, truly protecting her from death. While her first instinct was to be angry that it hadn’t saved her parents, she also came to the realization that her magic was simply trying to survive—and that meant keeping Hannah safe.

“What just happened?” Callan stared at Hannah with both shock and concern. “Your eyes went white, and you were in some kind of trance. Did the grimoire take hold of you?” Callan cradled her as if she were dying in his arms.

“No,” Hannah said, still catching her breath. She sat up and held steady in Callan’s arms. “It was my magic…talking to me.” Hannah’s eyes filled with veneration.

Callan relaxed.

“You were right,” she said. “It does protect me.”

They madezero progress on destroying Mara’s grimoire despite being there for hours. It was clearly protected, which meant they had to find another way to destroy Mara.

“Is there a magic binding spell? In the memory spell, Mara’s parents mentioned binding her magic…”

“You require an entire coven to perform that spell. And only high priestesses are taught how to bind magic. ’Tis not an option.” Callan paced back and forth. Every so often, he’d pause and look up at the warm-colored trees.

“Should we keep moving, then? The longer we stay here, the faster she could track us, right?”

“In order to destroy her, we may need her to find us.” Callan turned to Hannah, and she could see that he was deep in thought, eyes creased and nodding to himself.

“Destroy her?” Hannah asked. She gulped. “You mean kill her.” Though Hannah had considered this, she didn’t want to say it out loud. Not only was the thought terrifying, but it also seemed impossible.

“’Tis the only way,” Callan said.

“Right now? Shouldn’t we keep moving until we figure out a plan?”

“She shall defeat us every time when it comes to magic.”

Hannah’s face soured. She knew he wasn’t doing it intentionally, but it was as if Callan was reminding Hannah of how ineffectual her magic was. Though she was supposedly the most powerful witch the world had ever known, her magic was smothered within her useless shell of a body.

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