Page 6 of Fallen Angel

Hannah was definitely not most girls.“Sorry. But I think I read somewhere that only 20% of premeds actually become doctors. Still early days, Landon.” Hannah chuckled, smiling. “Come on, let’s take a look.” Hannah ran up the beach and slowed down as the sand transitioned into pebbles. Landon followed after her.

There was something compelling about the formation in the cliff. It was as if something magnetic pulled her toward the opening. The closer they got, the faster the adrenaline pumped through her. But when she arrived at the small stone archway, the air she had been holding in her chest deflated. There was a relatively smooth stone wall just behind the craggy arch. Landon jogged up behind her.

“Weird. Definitely looks like it was an entrance at some point,” he said, tracing his hand over the border of the protruding stone arch.

“Yeah, this wall looks man-made. Like it was placed here on purpose.” Disappointment swirled through Hannah, and she wasn’t quite sure why.

“These cliffs are hundreds, if not thousands of years old. Rocks can shift, crumble…wind currents could account for its smoothness.” He nodded his head while observing the rock shelter as if he were trying to portray confidence in his assessment.

“So now you’re an expert geologist?” Hannah asked, trying to not make her fascination for the structure seem so strange and her disheartenment so obvious.

He turned toward her and took a step closer. “Well, according to you, my medical career doesn’t seem too promising.” Hannah smiled and looked up at him. His body was only inches from hers when his charming smile faded, and his gaze grew more intense. He tilted his head forward, his lips parted.

“Oh wow, it’s getting late.” Hannah pulled her phone from her pocket, stepping away. “Maybe we should head back?” Hannah wasn’t sure why she rejected his gesture, but it was a knee-jerk reaction. Landon seemed nice and was easy to talk to—traits she knew she should cherish. Still, something was holding her back. Maybe it was because her mom wasn’t around to tell; her dad wasn’t here to jokingly threaten his life.

Landon stepped away from her and took her casual avoidance in stride. “Your carriage going to turn back into a pumpkin?”

“It just might,” she said.

He pointed to her phone. “Then I should at least give you my number.”

She offered him her phone, happy that she could give him some kind of affirmation. Landon smiled, typed in his number, and handed it back to Hannah. They turned and headed back toward campus.

As they returned up the beach, Hannah couldn’t help but look back at what she thought was a cave. Something stirred in the pit of her stomach—that feeling when you think you’ve forgotten something. She looked forward and tried to be present, sinking her toes into the cool sand with each step and smelling Landon’s sweet cologne. But she couldn’t shake that gnawing sensation deep within her gut. Perhaps she was just trying to distract herself by fixating on a mysterious rock shelter that wasn’t actually so mysterious. After all, Hannah had experienced this feeling before, nearly one year ago on her birthday. And with her eighteenth birthday approaching, it was no wonder she was out of sorts. Not only does it mark the day she was born, but will also be the two-year anniversary of the accident.

Chapter Two

The library was old and grand and overrun with mahogany bookcases and desks. Black iron staircases spiraled to the higher levels. It was musty and desolate, with stale air hovering over the rows of elegant manuscripts. Hannah proceeded with caution, hoping she wouldn’t hear the voice from yesterday. As her footsteps echoed through the empty space that reached high into the vaulted ceilings, she indulged in the silence. Aged stained-glass windows allowed hazy strips of light to stream in, highlighting floating particles of dust. Hannah crossed into one of the streams and felt the dull warmth on her freckled face.

“Can I help you?”

She jumped at the voice that spoke behind her—gliding to the open pockets of the library.

It was just a boy. No reason to be startled.

“I need to find a research topic for my Anthropology class,” she said.

“Well, that narrows it down a bit.” He was young, maybe a freshman or sophomore, but he dressed like an aged librarian in Chinos and a bowtie. “Anything in mind? A particular culture or time period?” he asked with a melodious timbre.

“Was just planning on moseying about. Hoping to find some inspiration.”

“Suit yourself. Most literature is on the first floor. Second floor is math and sciences. And the third and fourth floors are a hodgepodge of everything else—different cultural rooms, geography, periodicals, languages, law, theology, philosophy, etcetera,” he rattled off. “Just be careful. This library is older than your grandparents’ grandparents. The stairwells could crumble just as fast as the parchment pages.” He laughed. “Kidding, but the building is quite ancient.”

“Thanks, I’ll be cautious.” She gripped a notebook to her chest.

“My name is Edwin if you need any help,” he said as he turned away, leaving Hannah to her own devices.

She skipped the first and second floors and climbed the spiraled staircase to the third floor. She walked by a historic map room, Celtic art room, a section on World War II, and an entire corner dedicated to modern marketing and advertising. Edwin was right—quite the assortment of topics. Hannah wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but so far, nothing had grabbed her interest. The further she ventured into the jumbled third floor, complete with narrowing aisles and off-kilter rolling ladders, something fluttered within her. It was a similar sensation to what she had felt last night, approaching what she thought was a cave in the side of the cliff—some magnetic pull or luring force. Or maybe it was just some manifestation of her PTSD, trying to fantasize the mundane.

It didn’t take long before she came upon a very small room in the back corner. A tarnished plate read, “The Occult and Mysticism Sector.” Hannah stopped in her tracks, and her throat went dry. She knew she shouldn’t go in, but it was the first area of the library that sparked any sense of interest or curiosity.

For a time after her parents’ deaths, Hannah was constantly searching for answers. Pouring over books, scrolling the internet, talking to priests, therapists, or anyone who might have been able to provide an explanation. If there were answers, Hannah was determined to find them. She explored varying religious beliefs and even mystical traditions that strayed away from conventional churches and bibles. Could some kind of god or supernatural force have intervened that night? She made the mistake of posing this theory to her friends, and as so happens in high school, word spread that she was losing her mind. She garnered odd looks and passing comments likefreakandcracked. But at that time, she didn’t care. She kept to herself and researched the occult and neopaganism. All that mattered was finding answers.

Hannah stepped forward, but hesitated. Her hand hovered over the doorknob. She had left this all behind. This was supposed to be her new beginning. She could write about the evolution of feminism. Something else. Anything but this. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was waiting for her inside the room. Hannah had come a long way in the past few months. She’d be fine. Her hand finally twisted the knob and pushed open the door to the Occult and Mysticism room. It offered a forebodingcreak.

It seemed older and forgotten in comparison to the rest of the library. It was as if Hannah had stepped into a different building or time all together. The wooden shelves were thinner and somewhat warped with books crammed against each other in no particular order. The floor was covered in a musty and frayed maroon area rug that she might have found in her grandmother’s house. While the room was not too impressive, it was the information inside the books that piqued Hannah’s interest.

She scanned the shelves and gently picked out book after book until the crook of her elbow stiffened. She brought the stack over to the small, square desk in the corner of the room, and dropped them onto the surface. Dust billowed from the wood. She delicately flipped through their stained pages, trying to absorb as much information as possible. She could get lost in these books for hours and hours without getting bored. She didn’t consider herself a religious person, but the incredible amount of faith and devotion different people throughout history put into their specific beliefs made Hannah wonder if there was some truth to it. Some worshipped singular or multiple gods, the earth, magical creatures, darkness, light…the list went on and on. It was amazing that the core of so many cultures was imbedded in mysticism or some unknown supernatural force. And though she rationalized that there was no such thing as magic, part of her wondered if it could explain what happened to her the night of the accident.

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