Page 67 of Fallen Angel

“I thought you said you were starving,” Callan said, shifting on his feet. He was getting impatient, and Hannah feared that he might try and use his Siren’s influence to get rid of Amelia. She wouldn’t let that happen.

“There’s a small café right next to the infirmary. We can grab food there before we leave.” She turned back to Amelia and brought her in for another hug. She accessed her own Siren’s voice and soothingly whispered into Amelia’s ear, so that Callan couldn’t hear. “You’re not to listen to anything Callan says. If he gives you a command, you do not have to obey.”

Amelia nodded in a daze. “I’m just going to change into some fresh clothes, and then we can go.”

“Okay, I’ll wait outside.” Amelia walked past Callan and eyed him warily.

Callan closed the door behind her and lunged toward Hannah. “What did you say to her?”

“Relax. I just told her that everything would be okay. She doesn’t need to worry.” Callan crossed his arms and leaned back. He seemed to believe her. “Now, turn around. I need to change.”

Callan turned, and Hannah felt in control. She changed into black leggings, a sports bra, sneakers, and soft, white Under Armour sweatshirt. She figured that she better wear something that allowed her to run if she needed to. She pulled her curly hair into a low, messy ponytail, and looked at herself in the mirror that hung on the back of her armoire. Amelia was right. Her eyes were brighter than before. She took a deep breath and looked at her reflection with determination.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Hannah headed for the door, but Callan stepped in front of her. “Heed my words, Hannah.” He loomed over her. “I shan’t tolerate any nonsense.”

Though Hannah considered what approach to take with Callan, her instincts took over before any sense of strategy could intervene. “I’ve had about enough of you trying to intimidate me,” she said, taking a step even closer to Callan, her eyes looking up to meet his. “I’ve already told you that I’m not going to resist, and it would be in your best interest to believe me.” Hannah conjured a white orb of light in her hand.

Callan stepped back.

Hannah closed her fist, and the magical ball of energy dissipated. “If I wanted to escape you, I would have already.”

“You may be more powerful than I, but Mara…”

“Which is why I’m still here.” Hannah kept her voice firm. “Now, are you going to get out of my way?”

Callan stepped aside, and Hannah joined Amelia in the hallway.

At the campus infirmary,Amelia led Hannah and Callan to Bryce’s stall—a hospital bed with only a curtain surrounding it for privacy. “Why haven’t they sent him to the hospital?” Hannah asked.

Amelia kept her voice low and gentle. “They say he’s too sick for transport. One of the doctors from Cape Cove Memorial consulted with them and said that they’d be doing the same thing there as they would be here. Just fluids, pain management, and monitoring him. Hopefully he takes a turn for the better soon.”

“Yeah, hopefully.” Hannah knew that Bryce would die unless he was unleashed on the world and free to feed on human blood. Part of Hannah wanted to let him go—undo Callan’s compulsion and give him a shot at a normal life. But she also knew that he could hurt a lot of people.

Amelia pulled back the curtain.

Hannah was taken aback by Bryce’s ashen complexion. His skin was so pale that it looked like clear wax with brittle blue veins beneath it. Though he was asleep, each labored breath sounded like a raspy moan. A pang of pain stabbed Hannah’s heart. Bryce was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it was all Hannah and Callan’s fault. Just as Callan didn’t ask to be turned into a Siren and Hannah didn’t ask to be converged with magic, Bryce never asked to be a Vampire. It was a cruel fate thrust upon him.

Landon slumped in a chair next to the bed. “H-Hannah. You’re here.” He stood and tried to rub the wrinkles from his shirt.

“I came as soon as Amelia told me.” Hannah hugged him tighter than she intended. If things were different, he could have been the boy she cared for; the young man she brought back to Sonoma to meet her uncle; the boyfriend she brought to her parents’ graves. But it wasn’t meant to be.

Landon hesitated at first, but soon wrapped his arms around Hannah. She knew he probably thought she was a freak, but his embrace was warm and comforting nonetheless.

“I called you a couple times,” he said. He scratched the back of his head.

“She’s been busy.” Amelia smirked.

“My phone died,” Hannah said. “Lost my charger.” Hannah turned to Callan.

He was stiff, standing tall with his arms crossed. His eyes scanned the medical center. Hannah imagined it looked very different from medicine back in the 1600s. Machines, tubes, needles, wires.

Hannah took a step toward him and whispered, “Technology has upgraded since you were last in a hospital.”

“Indeed,” he said, stone cold.

Hannah missed the old Callan—the Callan who held her hand when the shuttle bus took a sharp turn, or the Callan that caressed her face when she was upset. She had to remind herself that this wasn’t her Callan. She’d get him back. She had to.

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