Page 73 of Fallen Angel

For with her death and last dying breath, I feel myself grow stronger.

Smother the light that burns within her, never again to see the sun.

Commit her to my dark command, and let this spell be done!”

Mara trembled and gripped the podium before releasing a nerve-piercing scream.

Hannah felt the need to scream as well, but with her lips fused shut, her cries echoed only in her mind. Her body trembled. The spell spread through her veins like poison. She looked at Callan. She wanted his vibrant green eyes to be the last things she saw.

Mara reached her hand out toward Hannah and threw a sphere of her swirling black magic at her. Like a bullet, it shot through Hannah’s chest. She collapsed against the stone, every part of her going cold. She could feel her heartbeat slow to a dull thump. The swirling sphere of black magic bloomed above Hannah. Threatening. Furious. It wailed and descended upon Mara, consuming her whole.

It worked.

Hannah’s heart stopped. Her body fell limp, her eyes vacant.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Callan stood on the altar and watched in shock as Mara’s black magic turned on her. It plunged through her body like wild vines piercing through her. The tormented screams reverberated beneath her skin. Mara’s bellow decrescendoed into aching croaks. The dark, rapid smoke finally released Mara’s dead body, dropping it to the cave floor. The shadowy tendrils floated into the air and plummeted into the ground.

A black mist seeped from Callan’s skin and rejoined the pluming smoke. Callan wailed as darkness ripped from his body, and his knees buckled. They slammed against the stone as inky vapors dissipated from his lips, chest, fingers. He gasped, placing his palms against the cool floor.

He caught his breath and hunched over. Mara lay dead beside him. Her eyes dulled to amber.

“You did it,” he said. “You did it!” he repeated louder. “Hannah, you defeated her. How…” He turned his head to find Hannah, but his expression fell when he noticed her lying lifeless on the cold, stone floor. He scrambled on his hands and knelt beside her. He hoisted her upper body into his arms, cradling her head in the crook of his elbow.

The other witches seemed to be coming out of their compulsion and looked at each other, addled and dazed. The shapeshifting girl cried into her hands. The dragon witch looked down his arms, disgusted at the scales. The banshee sighed in relief. They were free.

“Go! Leave this place,” Callan shouted.

The witches hugged each other, cried together, and rejoiced at their new-found freedom.

“Leave!” he screamed so harsh and loud that his voice broke. Pain filled his face and tears flowed from his green eyes. Though he was no longer under Mara’s command, he was still a Siren and could compel them all to leave. With the unmistakable urgency and torture in his voice, however, he didn’t need to. A few of the witches looked sorrowful at Callan cradling Hannah. Others widened their eyes at his temper. They scurried up the large, stone staircase, disappearing from the underground cave.

Callan shook Hannah in his arms. “Hannah. Wake up. You cannot be gone. This is not happening again.” He ignored the tears flowing down his face and gently rubbed his hand along her pale face. “Open your eyes. I know you are still in there.” His voice broke. He shook her again, harder this time, but her body remained heavy and limp. “Prithee, Hannah!” He held her close to his chest and kissed her forehead, his tears wetting her curls. He swayed back and forth as he hugged her small body, closing his eyes tight. When he opened them, he had a new resolve.

He placed her body back against the ground and hovered his hands over her chest.

“Mara Eden now dead, may her magic too disappear.

And allow this girl, Hannah Fenwick, return right now, right here.”

Callan waited for his spell to work, but as the moments passed, his face twisted with frustration. “’Tis fine,” he said. “’Twas not specific enough.” He gathered her small, cold hands in his and squeezed them as he took a deep breath.

“With Mara Eden’s death, may her darkness be erased.

The evil that she spread, be undone with great haste.

For if I could be saved from her wicked control,

Then so may Hannah Fenwick, reawaken her soul.”

Hannah’s eyes didn’t open, and her body remained still. Callan continued his spell.

“Repair her magic and fill her with light.

And allow her blue eyes to once again shine bright.”

Callan’s rhymes became less eloquent—his mind unable to think clearly as he held a dead Hannah in his arms. This didn’t stop him from continuing.

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