Page 29 of Fallen Angel

Chapter Nine

“’Tis far too great a risk.” Callan said. He pushed his back against the seat.

“It’s dangerous for me to not know what we’re up against. I still really have no idea what is going on.”

“All you must know is if Mara retrieves her book, she shall track down the reawakened witches, manifest them into her creatures, and spread her evil across the world. The more darkness she unfurls, the more powerful she shall become.”

Hannah nodded her head. Only ultimate doom laid before them if they failed to stop Mara. No big deal. She gulped. “What’s her end goal? Why does she need more power?”

“There is no end. That is the crux about dark magic. It is seductive, addictive, and one can never quite get enough. Advancing darkness simply feeds her black magic. Thereby, it rewards her by making her more powerful, unstoppable.” Callan stood up and stepped away from the grimoire.

Hannah furrowed her brow.Seductive. Addictive.Words that exactly described how Hannah felt when under the influence of Mara’s spell book. What worried her the most was that she liked how it felt; she reveled in it. It erased any sense of right versus wrong.

“So, where did Raven come into all of this?” Hannah wondered if Raven had been tempted by Mara’s sorcery too.

“Raven was an opposing force to Mara. She was good and selfless and cared deeply for others. ’Twas why Mara desired her dead.” Sorrow draped over Callan, as if he was remembering a saint.

Well, that answers that,Hannah thought. How could she ever compare to Raven, the good—the perfect?

“She cared deeply for you,” Hannah said, watching as Callan nervously tapped his hands on his jeans. His desire to be reunited with his Raven was palpable. While Hannah may never live up to her memory, perhaps she could provide Callan with some solace—potentially the only contribution she’d be able to make on this insane quest.

“Why might you know that?”

“I’ve seen it.”

Callan jolted toward Hannah. “How? You cannot access your magic.”

“Ever since the accident, I’ve received glimpses of images that feel like memories. Everyone told me they were symptoms of my PTSD…”

“Pardon?” Callan was unfamiliar with the acronym—and probably acronyms in general.

“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. When you have nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety after some terrifying event.” Callan nodded and looked to the floor, his eyes heavy with sorrow. “I had one earlier of you and me, well, Raven, and I could feel her affection for you.”

Callan smiled. “Your magic desires you to remember.”

“See?” Hannah stepped closer to Callan, grasping this opportunity. “The spell could help me put the pieces together.”

Callan bit down on his lip.

“Would you trust Raven to do it? Nathaniel seemed to remember her being very powerful.” Hannah placed her hands on her hips.

“Indeed, she was. However, Raven was raised and trained in the ways of magic since she was a child…”

“Her magic is in me. It’s one and the same. Isn’t that right?”

Callan didn’t answer. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I am able to resist your Siren influence and the commands of Mara’s grimoire, just like she was able to. If I can do that, then what’s one spell?” Hannah knew she wasn’t as powerful as Raven, but she’d say what was necessary in order to convince Callan.

“Fine,” he said, and Hannah was surprised that he conceded so quickly. “We shall do it in the morning. You need your sleep.”

“What about you?”

“I have been slumbering for over three hundred years. I am not ready to close my eyes just yet.” Hannah released a huff of laughter. “I shall keep watch.”

Hannah rested her weary body on the couch, and Callan draped a knit blanket over her. No matter how hard the cushions were, it felt incredible for Hannah to lay her head down.

“Good night,” she said.

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