Page 23 of Fallen Angel

Landon cleared his throat.

“I’m Bryce.” He offered his hand. “Landon and I are roommates in Fisher Hall. Which dorm are you in?”

“He’s a commuter,” Hannah said, proud of her quick thinking.

“I’m Amelia.” Amelia offered Callan her hand, palm down, in the way a princess might greet a suitor.

He shook it. Amelia gasped, wide-eyed. Callan swiftly dropped her hand. She must have felt his Siren’s sensation.

“Oh my,” she said under her breath. Thankfully, Hannah didn’t think Bryce heard Amelia’s swooning remark.

Callan didn’t notice. His gaze was fixed on something in the distance. His eyes squinted farther up the path along the edge of the cliffs. Hannah followed his gaze and saw a man in a long brown, leather coat. Callan’s eyes enlarged with horror.

“We must depart,” he whispered.

“What’s wrong? Who is that?” Hannah asked.

Landon, Bryce, and Amelia looked up the edge of the cliffs. The figure moved down the cliff path toward them. At first, his steps were slow. Then, the man broke into a sprint, his long coat trailing behind him. He ran faster than anything Hannah had ever seen before. His shape even blurred.

Callan quickly placed one hand on Amelia’s shoulder and the other on Landon’s. He gazed at them, his eyes glowing green against his golden-brown skin. “Run with great haste to your rooms. Lock the doors and do not trust the entrance of strangers.”

Landon and Amelia inhaled at his touch and nodded in agreement. Without hesitation, Landon and Amelia raced away from the cliffs toward campus.

“What the hell?” Bryce watched Landon and Amelia run away and jolted backward when Callan reached for his arm. “What are you doing? What did you do to them?”

“There is no time to explain,” Callan said. “You must leave. Now.” The man racing down the cliff was getting closer with every second. “You should go too,” he said to Hannah. He didn’t try to touch her, keeping his promise never to compel her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Hannah said. She didn’t know who this man darting toward them was, but she was not about to bolt when she was so close to getting the answers she wanted, whether she liked them or not.

“Same here,” Bryce yelled. “Not until you tell me what the hell you did to them.” Bryce raised his hands defensively in front of his chest.

The blurred figure slowed and came into focus. He was only a few feet away from them. His hair was a muddy brown that limply fell to his shoulders. His eyes were the palest grey Hannah had ever seen—almost white.

“Callan,” Hannah warned.

The stranger displayed a sadistic smile.

Callan lunged for Bryce, but the man broke into his unnatural speed, allowing him to reach Bryce first. He grabbed Bryce from behind and wrapped his cloaked arms around him.

“Stop!” Hannah shouted. She wanted to intervene, but her body was too stunned to act.

Though Bryce struggled, the man was too strong for him. “What the fuck,” Bryce shouted. “Let me go. Who are you? What’s…” The man placed his large hand over Bryce’s mouth.

“Let him go,” Callan said.

“It’s been a long time, my friend,” the man said. Hannah detected some sort of rough English accent. What looked like blood was smeared on the collar of his worn brown leather coat. The skin beneath his eyes were dark grey in comparison to the rest of his pale complexion, ashen and cracking like an old painting. He must have only been a year or two older than Callan. But because of his abnormal speed, she wondered if he was human at all.

“Raven,” he shouted, turning his attention toward Hannah. “I thought you dead.”

Hannah stepped back. Callan reached his hand out to Hannah, stopping her from stumbling off the side of the cliff. He guided her to stand behind him.

The man smiled even wider than before, revealing a set of long, sharp teeth, resembling fangs. “Mara will be interested to know that her spell failed.”

Bryce’s eyes widened at the wordspell.

“What is it you want, Nathaniel?” Callan asked.

Hearing Callan say his name prompted a series of images to flash across Hannah’s mind:She sat in a small cottage, in front of a fireplace with Callan sitting behind her. She rested her head against his chest as they watched the fire wisp and crackle against the burning kindling. The old, wooden door opened, and Nathaniel took a step inside. Callan abruptly stood up. “What is it you want, Nathaniel?”

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