Page 64 of Fallen Angel

Hannah stepped toward him but pushed the tempting melody from her mind. She knew she had to act fast.

“Senties dolorum!” she screamed.

Both her and Callan fell to the ground. Callan’s body seized dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. Hannah’s magic raged within her, protesting against the old language spell. Sweat gathered on Hannah’s forehead and back, and she felt as though she may erupt into flames any moment.

Because the Latin words caused Hannah to writhe in pain, its effects quickly wore off of Callan. He stood up tall, clenching his fists and grinding his teeth.

He wrapped his large hand around Hannah’s neck and lifted her to her feet. “I knew it,” he said. “You must be completely committed to dark magic for those spells to not eat you alive. You are pure light, aren’t you?”

Hannah struggled to breathe, let alone speak, as his grip tightened around her throat. He lifted her higher. Hannah scrambled to find the ground. The tips of her shoes scraped against the gravel.

“Ca-Ca-llan.” She coughed. “St-stop.” Aura spots stormed her vision.

Callan threw her at the edge of the cliff. Hannah rolled toward the rocky rim. Her hands clutched at stone, dirt, moss, anything. But everything slipped through her fingers.

She tipped off the side of the cliff, and for a moment, her body felt weightless. She gasped in a shriek and swatted her hands through the air. Her fingers somehow curled around a jagged part of the peak, her nails splintering against the stone.

“Callan!” Panic charged through her. “I can’t hold on.” Her voice matched the high-pitch whistle of the wind.

Callan stood above her.

“Please, Callan. Don’t do this.” He was fully capable of compelling the witches without her. Now that she was not on his side, he had no use for her.

“Promise to call the witches, or you shall fall.” His voice was unfeeling. All he cared about was following Mara’s commands. He had no affection left for Hannah.

“Why? You don’t need me.” Hannah’s fingers slid a centimeter.

“’Twould be a lie if I said I was not curious to see your power at work. Such a shame ’tis back to being white.”

Hannah retightened her grip. In doing so, her hands slipped even further, and her feet flailed.

“Furthermore, Mara has waited too long for this. I do not desire to keep her waiting much longer.”

“Okay, fine, I promise!” She only had seconds left before she crashed to her death. She was committed to stopping Mara, and if that meant freeing more witches than simply Callan from her command, then so be it.

Callan crouched down so that his eyes were closer to Hannah’s. “No trickery.” He taunted her now.

“I promise!” she shouted. The strength it took for Hannah to proclaim this last exclamation subtracted from her hands. They slipped. She scratched at the stone as she fell. She needed a spell to make her fly, to land her softly on the ground, or to return her to the cliff. Her mind, however, couldn’t focus as she was suspended in the open air.

Callan’s hand wrapped around her wrist. Half of his body hung over the edge of the cliff as he held onto Hannah. Relief, surprise, and terror filled her all at once as she looked up at Callan. His face was red with veins protruding from his forehead. He was struggling to hold her weight and keep himself on the cliff at the same time. Hannah recognized Callan’s expression as she hung suspended in the air:concern.

“Light as a feather, assistance from the weather.” Despite Callan’s strained voice, his spell took immediate effect. A gust of wind blew Hannah upward. Callan hefted her to safety.

She laid on the mossy ground and held onto it tightly. She couldn’t believe she was alive. Her gaze found Callan, and his green eyes were tight and worried.

“Thank you,” she said. She knew that he was the reason she was tossed over the side of the cliff in the first place, but if she noticed a glint of hope in him, she was going to take full advantage of it.

He shook his head. “’Tis not for me to decide your fate. I shall let Mara choose what to do with you.”

“For a moment, it looked like you cared about me.” Hannah reconnected her gaze to his, but he avoided any eye contact.

“I care only about what you can do for our coven.” He stood up and brushed the dirt off his jeans.

“Do you remember why you surrendered yourself to Mara again?” Hannah rose to her feet and moved a safe distance away from the edge. Callan knew that Hannah was no longer compelled by Mara, so she was free to push him—to try and guide his mind back to the light.

“’Tis irrelevant.”

“No, it’s not!” Hannah stood in front of Callan, too close for him to avoid her gaze. “You did it for me. You thought sacrificing yourself would snap me out of my trance—pull me back to the light. And you were right. It did.” Callan’s brows furrowed.

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