Chapter 13 Amari
AMARI
Ipace the nurses’ ward, thinking about Nathaniel’s words to me in the possessed boy.
He knows me somehow, but I can’t place it.
It’s been so long since I watched my people fall in Granada, and not once did I think my silence and lack of action created enemies from my fallen people. Is all this happening because of me?
Angie uses her magic to scan the unconscious boy, blue and gold threads flowing from her fingers as they hover over his small form.
The magical energy creates a soft humming sound, like distant wind chimes.
She looks back at Kade and Carla. “He’s fine, just the aftereffects of teleportation.
He’ll feel the usual sickness when he wakes up. ”
“Have you been able to find out anything about Nathaniel and Henry?” Carla asks, unable to hide her concern.
“A little,” Angie admits, her magical threads dissipating.
“Come with me,” she says, already moving toward the door.
Carla looks at the little boy, guilt written across her face. The weight of what just happened—an innocent child used as a weapon—presses down on all of us.
“Go,” Kade tells her, sitting down to take the young boy’s hand. “I’ll stay with him.”
We walk down the quiet halls of the academy in silence. Angie walks over to a table covered in books that are open. She stops in front of them, her expression grave. The room smells of old parchment and herbs—sage, rosemary, and something darker I can’t identify.
Carla smiles at me when I start looking over the text.
Angie looks at me. “They are of your Moorish culture.”
She points to names in the text, her finger hovering just above the delicate pages. “Ibrahim al-Qurtubi. Nasir al-Qurtubi. Brothers from Córdoba.”
“Hmm.” I study the names, something tugging at my memory. “It sounds familiar, scholarly, but I can’t place it.”
“I’ll look into my journals,” I tell her, making a mental note to dig through my extensive records.
Angie uses her magic, the blue hues and gold creating a hologram above the books.
The projection shimmers into existence, showing a weathered spellbook, its cover adorned with symbols I recognize as Blackwood markings.
The hologram rotates slowly, revealing intricate binding work and what appears to be locks made of pure magical energy.
“The first Blackwood spellbook,” she explains, her voice reverent. “Henry has it in his possession. Tabatha’s coven gave it to him to protect it from Aya Bailey.”
Carla looks up at Angie in shock. “Oh no.”
“We are bound by the laws of Mother Fate,” Angie says. “We cannot just take the book back. It has to be given to us.”
“This is the mission Damon and Selene have been working on quietly for you,” I say, the pieces clicking into place.
Angie nods, her shoulders sagging slightly under invisible weight.
Carla looks at her cousin with sad eyes. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Angie just shrugs, but I can see the weight she’s been carrying alone.
“Be serious right now,” she says, defensive. “You were dealing with limbo, and Anora is a walking time bomb.”
Angie’s face falls, vulnerability cracking through her usual confidence. “It felt like this mission was sent to me by Mother Fate. That I needed to handle it, no matter how much I yearned for a simple life. I was going to have to use the power I was blessed with.”
Carla comes around the table to her. “Oh, Angie, you don’t have to feel that way.”
Angie looks up at her, tears threatening to spill. “We’ve never been close. I know I haven’t been the best cousin.”
“It’s okay,” Carla says simply, wrapping an arm around Angie’s shoulders.
I look at Carla, just marveling at her. Showing grace when she doesn’t have to. It’s impressive. My woman is magnificent, a goddess walking among mortals.
“Let’s focus on what we can do now and leave that stuff in the past,” Carla continues, her voice gentle but steady.
“You’re not the only one who covets a life outside this power.” She looks at me then, and I see everything in her eyes—dreams of quiet mornings, peaceful nights, a life without constant supernatural threats.
I smile at her. We share a knowing look that speaks volumes. I know exactly what she’s trying to say. She wants a life with me, just her and our children, without the burden of limbo. But she’s forever tied to it. Limbo is part of her now, woven into her very essence.
I look away from her, breaking the contact, and go back to focusing on what info Angie’s found on Henry and Nathaniel.
“Let’s focus on Nathaniel right now,” I say, my voice taking on the commanding. “He appears to be a much bigger threat.”
“I agree,” Angie says as she lets Carla keep her arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. The cousins look more like sisters in this moment of shared burden.
“In Moorish culture,” I begin, pacing slowly around the table, “the men operate under a certain code. Loyalty, ethics—it’s how we were able to build such a strong and powerful nation that lasted centuries.”
I pause at one of the open books, seeing illustrations of Moorish architecture, mathematical equations, astronomical charts. My people’s legacy reduced to pages in dusty tomes. “But it was always greed that seemed to get the best of us. The lust for more power, domination.”
“That’s Nathaniel.” My voice hardens. “We need to beat him at his own game. He’s calculating.” I look at both women, my eyes flashing. “And while I’m impressed with his efforts, I’m not putting up with his shit. Nathaniel isn’t taking Wintermoon from me. Not my woman or my children.”
Carla gives me a smirk, that same expression that first captivated me over a year ago.
I start to pace around the table again, my mind working through strategies like a chess master planning moves ahead. “Aya said he’s weakest when he’s not in limbo. So, we need to coax him out.”
“What I don’t understand is why Solomon,” Angie says, her brow furrowed in thought. “There’s also Aaron and Seth. They both have the Blackwood bloodline. Nathaniel never even attempted.”
I chuckle at that, the sound dark and knowing. “You really think he’s going to fuck around and find out with House of Zorah? Those shifters would find a way to tear his soul to shreds.”
Angie grins slightly, a spark of her usual fire returning. “Well, you’ve got a point there.”
“Aaron—he’s too in touch with his magic.
Even I noticed that. His awareness is like a constant beacon.
It would require Nathaniel to do more work to overcome his defenses.
Not to mention, Aaron’s close with Amir.
” I shake my head, continuing my analysis.
“So Solomon is his best option for possession. The blood of a Blackwood who was born of dark magic, and the father of shifters and vampires. The damage Nathaniel could do if he took over Solomon’s body. ..”
Solomon’s power combined with Nathaniel’s cunning and centuries of rage would be catastrophic.
Carla sucks in a sharp breath. “He’s my cousin. I have to find a way to protect him.”
I look at her with a wink, trying to lighten the moment. “Oh, we will.”
I pull out my phone and start texting Bobby, my fingers flying over the screen with vampire speed.
“Nathaniel likes doors,” I say as I type, already formulating plans with my tech genius.
I look up at both women. “What if we found a way to construct a door he couldn’t get out of?”
Angie pulls back from Carla slightly, interest sparking in her eyes. “A contraption?”
I nod to her. “Exactly. Think about it—every time we’ve encountered him, he’s used doors. Portals. Gateways. It’s his preferred method of travel between realms. What if we use that against him?”
“I’ll go through the books,” Angie says, already moving back to the texts.
“While you’re doing that, I’ll work up an alarm system for the academy that can detect Nathaniel’s energy.
We already have a sample.” I put my phone away after sending the last message to Bobby, my mind racing with possibilities.
“Nathaniel was stupid enough to merge with the boy—probably testing out his possession abilities. He left traces of his magical signature. He knows he only gets one shot with Solomon, so he has to make it count.”
I move to another section of the table, examining more books. “We need to think like him. He’s been planning this for centuries, trapped in limbo, building his power. Every move is calculated.”
Carla walks over to me and grabs my arm. Her touch grounds me, pulls me from my strategic planning.
I look at her, seeing the exhaustion in her eyes. “I’m all for carrying you back home to Medina Shadow, but could we teleport this time?”
Carla smirks and opens a portal with her web magic, the pink strands forming a doorway through space.
“I’ll reach out as soon as I find something,” Angie calls out, already lost in her research.
We walk through the portal together, stepping into the large foyer of our coven. The familiar scent of home washes over me.
Immediately, Moria and Kemnebi skitter toward us, sending images of Nathaniel getting away. The mental pictures flash through our minds—the blue orb escaping, the door slamming shut, their frustration at failing to catch him.
Carla notices something in the images and looks at me. “Nathaniel—he’s really scared of Verto.”
“Hmm, we’ll need to check that out,” I say, filing that information away. Our biggest spider child might be more valuable than we thought.
“I’m going to have to go back into limbo,” she says. “The more I’m away from the void, the easier it is for him to plan. Me being there means I can stall him longer.”
“But...” I start to protest, every instinct screaming to keep her safe, keep her here.
Carla runs a hand over my chest, soothing. “I’ll stay with you until a plan is formulated. But remember what Aya said. The children holding back the lost souls—it’s not sustainable.”
She looks down at her hands, pink magic sparking between her fingers like tiny lightning. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to stop this.”
“I’m thinking about reaching out to Tabatha,” she admits quietly.
I furrow my brow. “You can do that?”
She shrugs, uncertainty clouding her features. “I don’t know, but it’s worth a try. If we don’t figure out something soon, we’re going to lose Wintermoon.”
I pull her into my arms and plant a soft kiss against her lips. I can feel the worry in her, the weight of responsibility crushing down on her shoulders.
“I’m not going to let that happen,” I tell her when we break apart, my hands framing her face. “I swear it to you.”