Page 61 of Fallen Angel

Hannah closed her eyes and hoped he’d make it quick. Just as the tips of Nathaniel’s fangs scratched her skin, Mara sprung forward.

“Stop,” Mara shouted. “I have changed my mind,” she said, a quiver in her voice.

Nathaniel retracted his fangs and placed Hannah on her feet. Hannah studied the relief on his face, but knew that she couldn’t show her own. Hannah had called Mara’s bluff. She wouldn’t dare lose her precious new tool. Hopefully now, she would no longer be suspicious of Hannah.

“Bringing the witches here should be our priority.” Mara clutched at her cape, and her right eye twitched.

Tiny beads of sweat gathered on Hannah’s forehead. She was grateful that she wouldn’t have to feed on humans to survive, but she wasn’t free and clear just yet.

“Are you certain?” Hannah asked. If Mara truly believed that Hannah was compelled to her, then it wouldn’t have sounded like a subversion at all.

Mara brushed a strand of black hair from her forehead then calmly folded her hands. “You shall learn that I am always certain. Best not to question me.”

“Of course.” Hannah bowed. This must have been enough for Mara, because she turned her attention to Callan.

“You have been awfully quiet, Mr. Delmonte.”

“Simply awaiting your command.” Callan looked at Mara as if he would do anything for her. Hannah recognized the gaze, and her heart ached.

“I have a command for you.” Mara tapped a finger against her chin. “Nathaniel took far too long to obey an order. Kill him. I shall make it so that he is susceptible to your command.”

“What?” Nathaniel released a nervous laugh. “Do you jest, my mistress?”

“Are you questioning me?”

“Of course not. I trust you completely.” Nathaniel’s lips parted.

“Then keep silent.”

Hannah’s eyes darted between Callan and Nathaniel. Could he be pretending just like her? Hannah knew that Callan would only kill a fellow witch if he was truly compelled to do so. Then she remembered Beatrice. Callan didn’t hesitate to kill her. However, she was only seconds away from ripping Hannah’s head off, and Callan was overcome by a massive sense of guilt afterward. Would he really kill Nathaniel only to keep up a charade with Mara?

Callan didn’t blink an eye. He nodded and marched to Nathaniel. He placed his hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes. “You desire to rip out your own heart. You may not think you are capable, but prove yourself wrong. As a Vampire, you have the strength to do so.” Callan stepped back.

Nathaniel cracked his neck and shook out his arms, preparing himself for the task. “Prove myself wrong.”

Hannah looked to Mara to see if she was going to intervene like she did before. She expected her to make him stop—to award his loyalty with the dignity of not dying a gruesome death at his own hand—but no such thing happened.

Nathaniel reached his fist out and plunged it into his chest. It made a hollow popping noise.

Hannah held her breath and averted her gaze. Water dripped from the high ceiling, echoing with every drop. Hannah didn’t know how much more pretending she could take.

Nathaniel gasped, and his pale eyes filled with blood. His mouth twisted as he released a grisly cry. His hand moved back and forth inside his chest, bone snapping.

Hannah flinched. She fought the urge to throw up as the contents of her stomach boiled.

Nathaniel tore his hand from his chest and hoisted his own heart into the air like a trophy. His delight didn’t last long. The veins beneath his pale skin turned black and spindled over his body. A metallic liquid seeped from his eyes and nostrils, and his lips cracked. Nathaniel collapsed against the cold, hard ground.

Hannah balled her hands into fists to hide how much they were shaking. She had never seen anything so gruesome or horrifying in her life. Her intestines swarmed in on themselves, burrowing as far as they could into her spine. She felt lightheaded at the smell of the fleshy heart that tumbled out of Nathaniel’s palm. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Everything went black and she fell to the ground.

Even while she laid there and fought the impending darkness, she ached for Callan’s embrace. She remained alone, slipping into night.

Chapter Nineteen

When Hannah came to, she had no idea how long she had been unconscious. Mara’s cave was only lit by scattered candles. She had no clue what time of day it was. Sadness tugged at the back of her mind as she realized she laid exactly where she collapsed. While she was thankful that Nathaniel’s body had been disposed of—despite the lingering blood stain from where he ripped his own heart out—the Callan she had come to know would have taken care of her. He would have picked her up, covered her with a blanket, and soothed her aching head. That Callan was gone. The thought of never seeingherCallan again forced tears to her eyes.

She stood up, her body aching. Conspiring whispers came from the altar where Mara and Callan flipped through the grimoire. Her hand waved over the cave wall, and a beautiful white rose bloomed from the stone. Mara closed her fingers into a fist, and the pedals turned black. They deteriorated to the floor. Callan looked amazed by Mara’s spell. They returned to the grimoire for more. Hannah couldn’t tell whether he was smiling at his reunion with the book or whether he was never allowed the privilege to peruse her spells before. She blinked back her tears and wiped away the few that escaped. She walked towards the altar and straightened her posture.

“She has risen,” Mara said, an attempt to mock Hannah.

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