Page 69 of Fallen Angel

Hannah’s eyes filled with water. Though she knew that without her compulsion, he would die a long, slow, and agonizing death, she still felt overwhelming torment at what she had done. But there was no time. She had to go before Callan returned.

Fog rolledover the cobblestones leading up to Bellcliff Library. Lightning cracked, followed by the humming grumble of thunder. A shiver crawled up Hannah’s spine. And despite it only being the afternoon, the threatening weather turned the day into night. Perhaps the weather was lured by Mara’s evil.

She tip-toed up the spiral staircase, trying to keep her feet light and silent. Though Mara was underground, Hannah didn’t want to alert her to her betrayal. When she reached the Occult and Mysticism room, she sighed at the sight of Raven’s wilting manuscript. She held the knob and inched the door shut.

Hannah picked up Raven’s spell book, her legs shaking. Her hands glowed as she touched the enchanted pages. Goosebumps erupted on Hannah’s skin.

“Come on, Raven,” Hannah spoke to the book as she flipped through the pages. “Give me something I can use.” As her eyes scanned over the handwritten scrawl, she vaguely remembered something she read the first time she was in this room.Magic can be gracious, vengeful, rewarding, punishing.And just as the thought entered her head, the pages flipped toward the front binding, as if prompted by a gentle wind.

Hannah looked down at the page, her eyes quickly moving back and forth as she read the words in front of her. Her eyes filled with tears. Her legs stopped shaking, and her shoulders relaxed. She sat down at the aged, wooden table. A tear slipped down her cheek and onto the page, causing the old ink to bleed. She tapped her fingertips to her thumb on her right hand. She paused, thumb pressed to pinky.

Hannah was not anxious. She was certain. This would work.

She wiped a tear from her cheek and inhaled the dry, stale air.

She stood up from the table and shut Raven’s spell book.

She brushed her fingers over the sigils on the front cover—good outweighing evil. And she intended to keep it that way.

Chapter Twenty-One

Hannah paused on the last step of the spiral staircase.

“Can I help you? Hello? Are you even a student here?” Edwin’s haughty voice echoed upon the walls.

She crouched on the stairs and peered through the intricate iron railing. A middle-aged woman in a petticoat and coif walked right past the circulation desk. An older man followed, wearing breeches and stockings. A younger man and woman were close behind, dressed in mis-matched modern clothing. More followed. People, young and old, some dressed in Puritan garb, others in present-day fashion, walked past Edwin and headed toward the back of the library—toward the hidden entrance to Mara’s lair. Their gazes were set straight ahead, and their steps were automatic. They all appeared to be under a trance—Hannah’s Siren song.

Callan must have realized by now that Hannah had evaded him, so she expected him to barge into the library at any moment. Before he did, however, she realized that she had an opportunity to save the re-awakened witches.

She scurried across the marble floor and went straight to Edwin.

“Ah, a familiar face,” he said, flustered by the unusual amount of people entering his empty library. “Do you know anything about this? Is there some kind of convention on campus? A parade? Some kind of protest?”

Hannah didn’t answer. She reached across the circulation desk and took Edwin’s hand. Though he looked overwhelmed, Hannah sung her words to him before he could resist. “Run. Don’t come back until it’s safe.”

His eyes glazed over, and he nodded. He weaved between the witches.

Edwin opened the door to exit. Callan stood just outside. When he spotted Hannah, his expression turned red and irate.

Callan thrust Edwin aside and pushed his way through the witches.

Hannah raced back up the spiral steps. She was happy that she chose to wear sneakers.

She found a spot on the second floor where she could look out over the witches trailing into the library. She held onto the railing, took a deep breath, and called forth her buried Siren’s song. It didn’t take much before the melody filled her mind and seeped from her lips. She reveled in the sweet notes she projected.

The witches paused, and Hannah felt a momentous sense of accomplishment.

You’re headed into a trap,Hannah thought as her harmony rang along the many shelves and marble floors.Leave now and never yield to Mara’s influence. Surround yourself in light and repel the darkness.The longer she sang, the more the witches snapped out of their trances. It was as if they were being re-awakened for a second time. They stopped and looked around the library. Some gasped, others stumbled. They didn’t seem to know how they got to this place and were only just noticing the others walking beside them.Run! You’re free.

Hannah’s song was abruptly interrupted. Callan grabbed her shoulders and pushed her to the floor. She slammed into a bookshelf. Callan breathed heavily and bared his teeth. He picked Hannah up, one hand grasping at her sweatshirt and the other around her neck. “I thought I said no trouble.”

Beyond Callan’s hostile expression, Hannah saw the witches below filing out of the library. She smiled. “When this is all over, you’ll be glad I caused a little trouble.” She remembered a spell Raven used and decided to tweak it for her own use. “Let my skin be fire, and your grip expire.” Hannah felt her neck heat beneath Callan’s hand.

“Ah!” Callan released a beastly snarl. He tossed Hannah aside and cradled his burnt hand.

She had little control over her limbs as they flailed onto the hard marble. She could try to run and escape Callan yet again, but that was not part of her plan. She needed to get back to Mara, so she had to allow him to take her to the she-Devil.

“Mara shan’t be pleased,” Callan said between clenched teeth, tending to his singed hand. He aimed to please Mara. His very existence depended on it—under Mara’s compulsion, that was.

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