A muscle twitched in his jaw. “A photograph.”
“It was you. You had a bloody sword in one hand, and my sister’s severed head in the other.”
“I don’t remember killing someone called Alice.”
“You didn’t. She’s still alive, somewhere. The photograph was faked. Double exposures, and painted by a great artist. So yes, I did try to assassinate you, but I'd been given bad information. That's why I ran back to you, to try to stop it when I realized I’d been tricked. I’d wanted revenge. You can understand wanting revenge, can’t you?”
He let his hand drop. “Oh yes. I understand revenge.” His words slid through my bones. That was a warning.
“Where are we?”
“An island, off the coast of Albia. This castle was my home for a very long time. It has a very long history. But you won’t be seeing anything except this room.”
“Just because I tried to kill you?”
“It’s a bit of a pet peeve of mine, as it happens.” The fire in his eyes faded to an icy gray again.
My legs felt weak, and I sat down on the bed. “What if I want to leave?”
“You simply can’t. I don’t know what your role is yet, but I know it’s important, and there are more important things in this world than where you do or do not want to be.”
I narrowed my eyes, clutching the edge of the bed. “Is that so?”
“How did you knock out half my army?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really know. It might have been the spirit of the Raven King. It just happened.”
He studied me for a long time. “You’re dangerous, Lila.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know about that.” I touched the skin on my arm, and it shimmered with magic. “How did I recover?”
“Slowly.”
“Who are the nephilim?”
“Children of the Fallen. Have you wondered why Sourial is always drunk? He drinks to forget that his sons and daughters have been killed. The Free Men and the others like them have made it their mission. They are growing in power, day by day. They thrive among the nobility and mortals with power. They are lawlessness in the name of the law. Only by uniting the Fallen against this mortal scourge can we stop it. And Lila, I will not let you get in the way again.”
“I won’t get in your way. They set me up and tried to kill me.” As I breathed out slowly, I felt like dark shadows were seeping from me. “I want to crush them.”
His gaze flicked up and down my body for a moment, like he was drinking me in. “Hmm. It will be a long time before I trust anything you say.” He turned to leave the room, and a chill settled over my skin. Here, in this castle over the river, I felt completely alone.
If I could read, I could make my own decisions. On shaking legs, I crossed to one of the bookshelves, and scanned the spines until I saw something thin with colorful letters at the bottom. Something that looked like a children’s book.
I knelt down, and pulled it out.
Because all I had for company was a library of books. But that meant knowledge, and power.
I had work to do. It would start here, and I would win Samael over once more.
Thank you for reading!
If you want to discuss the book with others who read it, you can click here to join our Facebook reader group, C.N. Crawford’s Coven.
Want to get a hint of how Samael feels after the explosion?
I wrote a scene that didn’t make the final cut of the book, and it’s one of Samael’s dreams. In the deleted chapter, we get a hint of how he feels about Lila right now. It’s not central to the plot though.
You can click the cover for the deleted scene. It also features a sneak peek of Linsey Hall’s Hades and Seraphia characters from Infernal.
Infernal and The Fallen were part of a joint project in which we both wrote our own interpretations of the Hades myth. So if you want more Hades inspired fantasy romance, you should check out Infernal. Click here for Infernal, or read on for chapter one in Infernal.
Chapter one of Infernal by Linsey Hall
Library, Guild City
Seraphia
There was that smell again.
Brimstone and fire.
It woke me abruptly, and I nearly fell off the couch, the blankets tangled around me.
“Crap, crap, crap.” Heart pounding a mile a minute, I scrambled upright, shoving my messy dark hair out of my face.
Early morning sun streamed through the mullioned glass windows, the beams lighting up the ancient room in which I’d been camping out. It wasn’t my home—I hadn’t slept there in weeks—but it looked like it, with clothes strewn over the table and shoes scattered about.
I glanced at the clock over the old wooden door.
Nine a.m.
Damn it, I was late.
Librarians should never be late to open the doors.
Yet I was. Increasingly often.
The ghost that haunted me had driven me out of my own home. It wasn’t normal to sleep in an ancient library, but then, I wasn’t normal. But it was my best option if I wanted to avoid the shadowy specter that had been stealing more and more hours of my sleep.
Frankly, I was reaching a breaking point.
The scent of fire surged, filling the air until I almost couldn’t breathe. My throat tightened, fear fisting it tight.
It was him.
The ghost. The shadow. It had to be.
I still didn’t know who he was. My nana had warned me about him, though. Don’t use your magic. Don’t draw attention. Keep to yourself. Or he will come for you.
She’d died before she could tell me any more, which sucked on multiple levels. But he was the bogeyman at the corner of my vision, the monster under the bed.
Dark magic.
My skin prickled as I crept across the room, slipping my feet into the wellies I’d left by the door. The tall rain boots looked ridiculous with my unicorn sleep shorts and oversized ’80s band T-shirt—Madonna today—but it didn’t matter. I just needed footwear so I could get the hell out of there.
Shame burned at the back of my neck as I slipped down the stairs. The ancient library in Guild City was enormous—several stories tall with a domed ceiling and gorgeous stone and wood architecture. One of the small upstairs rooms had been my refuge these last weeks, and now I was abandoning even that?
What kind of coward was I?
The kind that’s used to hiding.
I stiffened my spine and sucked in a breath. I didn’t have to be a coward. I didn’t have to leave the library. No matter how much I wanted to.
This was my home. My responsibility.
The last stair creaked underfoot as it always did, and I stepped onto the ground floor. The tiny anteroom was dark, but I didn’t bother with a light. Didn’t want to blind myself.
Or draw attention.
Trembling, I pushed open the oak door to the main library, peering out into the hallowed space. Guild City was an ancient town hidden deep in London—built during the time of Elizabeth I, when there were still knights on horses—and this building was a testament to that. With its soaring, intricately carved ceiling and millions of books stacked on gleaming wooden shelves, it awed me every day. Light streamed through the mullioned glass windows, an almost holy thing to witness. It was more cathedral than library, and it amazed me that I was one of the librarians.