Page 41 of Fallen Angel

Hannah recognized the young girl howling at her feet. It was the girl from the memory spell who was compelled to join Mara’s coven before Raven tried to intervene. This was what Mara had turned her into? A shapeshifting wolf?

Hannah’s heart pounded against her chest, and her hands trembled upon the grimoire. Fear prickled at the back of her neck. But almost immediately, her grip tightened around the spell book, its influence soothing her nerves. Her hands steadied and the fluttering in her chest eased. The grimoire took advantage of Hannah’s surprised state and reigned her back in under its influence.Remedium,the book chanted to Hannah, and she had no choice but to repeat the grimoire’s spell. “Remedium,” she repeated through gritted teeth. Despite the comfort it provided her, she needed to resist its pull.

Beatrice’s naked body relaxed. She sucked in deep breaths and lifted herself to her feet. Even in her human form, she bared her teeth and snarled at Hannah.

“Hand over the book.”

Hannah held out the book, then gripped it to her chest. “Do you remember me?” Hannah winced, clutching the book. “I tried to stop Mara and Callan from turning you into this. It’s me, Beatrice. I’m Raven Harlowe.”

Hannah didn’t know whether Beatrice would remember Raven’s efforts to save her, but it was the only trick she had left. And when she declared herself to be Raven, she somehow felt stronger against the grimoire’s compulsion. In the game of tug-of-war they were playing, Hannah was winning.

Beatrice, however, seemed too fixated on the book to listen to Hannah’s words. She burst forward to grab it. Hannah swung it away and smacked it against Beatrice’s face. The pewter lock cut her cheek. She stumbled back, pressing a finger to her temple.

Beatrice snarled, and black fur rippled up her arms. As Beatrice transformed, Hannah felt the grimoire’s magic leave her body. It was as if it didn’t want to chance being used again; the book only wanted Hannah to do its bidding, not the other way around.

She knew she couldn’t outrun Beatrice. She’d be torn to shreds before she reached the dock. She didn’t want to die, but maybe she could see her parents again. Would it be quick? Slow and agonizing? Would Callan miss her? Would Mara plague the world with darkness? Would Callan succumb to evil? Was this all real?

Beatrice’s last claw punctured out of her paw, and she ferociously snapped at Hannah, drool sliding off her fangs. Hannah managed one last terrified breath before Beatrice propelled toward her.

Hannah crashed to the ground. Her head banged against a table leg. The weight of Beatrice on her chest made it difficult to breathe. Her snout was so close that she could smell Beatrice’s metallic breath. The wolf’s growl vibrated through Hannah’s entire body, causing her to tremble. Beatrice widened her mouth before rearing her head back.

Hannah closed her eyes and reconciled herself with death. She’d be with her parents soon.

Before any teeth sank into her skin, Beatrice yelped in pain and her entire bodyweight slumped on top of Hannah. She felt something warm spread across her stomach and seep onto the floor beside her. Blood pooled in the carpet.

Callan pulled the dead wolf off Hannah and helped her to her feet. Her entire body quivered at the sight of her blood-soaked shirt. Thankfully, none of the blood belonged to her. She looked down at Beatrice and saw the fishing spear Callan pierced through her hide.

“Are you all right?” he asked, except Hannah was too distracted to answer. She watched as the dead wolf shrank into a dead young girl.

Callan followed her gaze to Beatrice and recoiled. “I did this,” he said quietly.

“She was going to kill me,” Hannah said, still stunned by how young Beatrice looked.

“She would not be here, following Mara’s commands, if it was not for me.” He wrapped his hands over his head and winced at the swollen lump forming on the side of his face.

Hannah remembered the memory: Callan didn’t want to do Mara’s bidding, but she was simply too powerful to deny. Callan punched the wall so hard that it cracked. He screamed—filled with anger and pain. He slumped onto the floor and held his face in his hands. When he removed them, they were soaked with tears.

Hannah grabbed a blanket from the floor by the couch and draped it over Beatrice’s dead body. She crouched next to Callan and gently cupped her hands around his face, gazing into his vibrant green eyes.

“You didn’t do this,” she said. “Mara did this. She is to blame.”

Callan brushed Hannah’s hands away and stood up. He paced away from her, his hands stiffened into fists. “Do not absolve me of this. I knew of what Mara was doing. I could feel her control over me. I was simply not strong enough.”

“Callan…”

“’Twas easier to follow her. And because I could not fight it, people died. I helped Mara curse their souls to darkness without blinking an eye.”

“I was there, Callan.” Hannah stood in front of him. “I know exactly what happened. Raven, the only one in Mara’s magical league, couldn’t even do it. You tried. And she knew that.Iknow that. Mara was just too strong—too dark.”

Callan looked Hannah over, seemingly unburdened by her words.

Hannah couldn’t help but feel protective over him. She couldn’t stand that he blamed himself for all that had happened. A massive sense of guilt for ever doubting him snuck up on her. Her heart was filled with an overwhelming desire to hold and care for Callan. She couldn’t tell, however, if those were her feelings or Raven’s. Was there any difference? Hannah took Callan’s hand and interlaced their fingers. “Which is why we have to stop her.”

Callan nodded, unable—or unwilling—to break his gaze away from Hannah. “The spell worked? You remember?”

“Yes.” Hannah’s heartbeat accelerated as Callan moved himself closer to her. “I saw the hold Mara had over you.” Callan brushed one of Hannah’s rogue curls behind her ear. “I also saw how drawn you were to Raven, and she to you.” He tilted his gaze, seeming solely focused on Hannah’s blue eyes. “You truly loved her.” Callan barely let Hannah finish her sentence before he kissed her.

The press of his lips on hers was exhilarating. The adrenaline that had been fighting to escape her for years pumped through her veins. It felt like many small electrical currents were hovering over her skin and zooming out of control, but in a good way—a passionate way. Hannah wrapped her arms behind Callan’s back and grasped at the defined muscles beneath his shirt. He ran his fingers through her hair and pressed her body to his.

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