Chapter 17 Amari
AMARI
Bobby parks the SUV in front of the academy and cuts the engine. The darkness feels heavy tonight. I step out into the cool night air, and that’s when I feel it.
Carla.
I press a hand to my chest, confusion twisting through me.
I shouldn’t feel her at all when she’s in limbo.
The mate bond goes silent there, leaving nothing but emptiness where she should be.
It’s one of the worst parts of her being gone, that hollow absence that makes me feel like I’m missing a vital organ.
But right now, I feel her clear as day. And she’s hurting.
Pain radiates through the bond, sharp and urgent. Not physical just pain exactly, but something deeper. Fear. Rage. Desperation.
Bobby shuts the passenger door, the enclosure tucked under his arm. He looks at me across the hood, his expression shifting from casual to concerned. “You good?”
“Fine.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. “Let’s get inside.”
I round the SUV, my vampire senses on high alert, and that’s when I see them.
Carla’s spider children emerging from the forest. Not just a few.
All of them. Their massive forms skitter between the trees, pink magic glowing faintly around them as they take positions around the academy perimeter.
I spot Moria’s distinctive markings. Kemnebi moves with purpose toward the north wall.
Bobby follows my gaze, his eyebrows rising. “Maybe this means Carla’s back?”
“No.” I shake my head, watching more spiders appear from the darkness. They’re arranging themselves in a pattern I recognize from military formations. “She’s not back. The bond only works when she’s in the living, but she’s not here. But the question is why are they all here?”
I want to approach them, to demand answers through the images they send. But something stops me. Now. Whatever’s happening, we need to be inside those walls.
We enter the academy, and everything seems normal.
Too normal. The kind of quiet that makes my fangs ache to descend.
Dimly lit hallways. Damon and Selene move through the corridor on patrol, their movements relaxed but alert.
They nod as we pass, nothing in their demeanor suggesting anything’s wrong.
Kade and Leah check the dormitory wing, Kade’s blonde braids swinging as she peers into darkened rooms. Just another night watching over the sleeping children.
Bobby adjusts the enclosure under his arm. “Feels off.”
“Yeah.” I keep my voice low as we climb the stairs toward Angie’s workroom.
“Stay alert.”
I pause at the top of the stairs when I see him.
Torin. Standing at the edge of the hallway where it branches toward the older students’ dormitories. His small frame is silhouetted against the dim emergency lighting, unnaturally still.
“What’s he doing up?” Bobby whispers beside me.
I start toward the boy, my footsteps silent on the carpet runner. “Torin?”
He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t turn. Just stands there, facing away from us. His breathing is wrong. Too steady. Too controlled for a child who should be startled by voices in the night.
I move closer. “Torin?”
He keeps moving then, his steps quickening down the hallway. But there’s something mechanical about the movement, like a puppet on strings. His gait is too stiff, his arms hanging at unnatural angles.
“Torin?” I call again, louder this time.
He stops. The hallway seems to hold its breath. Then slowly, too slowly, he turns. His sandy locs fall across his face, and when he looks up, his green eyes are gone. Replaced by an unnatural blue glow that makes every instinct scream wrong.
“Amari Al-Baqar?” His voice comes out wrong, layered with something malevolent. It’s Torin’s young voice, but underneath it runs something old. Something that predates this world. “Die!”
He partially shifts in a blur of motion I barely track.
Sandy locs whip forward as those fake green eyes flash one last time before fully committing to blue.
Claws extend from his small hands, each one sharp enough to tear through flesh.
Canines lengthen, dropping past his bottom lip.
For a such a young wolf pup, the transformation is remarkably controlled. Remarkably practiced.
He leaps with a wolf shifter’s speed, going straight for my throat.
I barely have time to register the attack, to calculate how to defend myself without hurting him, before Tofi explodes from a crack in the wall I didn’t even know existed.
The space looks impossibly small for her massive frame, but she squeezes through like liquid, her spider body reforming as she slams into Torin mid-leap.
They hit the ground hard. Torin snarls, snapping at Tofi with those extended canines. She pins him gently, her legs creating a cage around his small body.
“Don’t hurt him!” I drop to my knees beside them, my hands hovering uselessly. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
Torin thrashes beneath Tofi’s hold, his claws scraping against her exoskeleton without leaving a mark. The sounds coming from his throat aren’t childlike. They’re primal. Wrong.
More doors open down the hallway. The clicks amplify in the quiet.
One door. Two. Five. Ten. Children pour into the corridor from both directions.
Bear shifters, some already partially transformed with claws and muscle mass that shouldn’t exist on frames so small.
Lion shifters with gleaming golden eyes.
Wolf shifters moving in a pack mentality that’s too coordinated.
Little witches and warlocks, magic already sparking around their small hands in colors that range from innocent pink to ominous black.
All of them have those same glowing blue eyes.
All of them are advancing on me.
I look at Bobby, my voice dropping to a command. “Get the enclosure to Angie. Now!”
He doesn’t question me. Just takes off running, his vampire speed carrying him up the remaining stairs toward Angie’s workroom. The enclosure bounces under his arm, and I pray to whatever gods are listening that it doesn’t break.
The children keep coming. A young bear cub, no more than six years old, growls low in her throat. A warlock boy raises his hands, fire magic crackling between his palms. A lion shifter girl drops to all fours, her partial transformation making her look more monster than child.
That’s when the others arrive.
Kade and Leah teleport in, black smoke dissipating around them. Kade’s eyes widen as she takes in the scene, but there’s no fear there. Just calculation. Leah’s hands already glow with magic, ready to defend.
Damon and Selene flash into position from opposite ends of the hallway, creating a defensive line. Selene’s hand hovers near the knife at her thigh, but she doesn’t draw it. Not yet. Not against children.
The battle begins.
Damon catches a small fist aimed at his face, redirects it gently. Sweeps a leg not to harm but to unbalance.
Selene flows like water around the attacks.
Her assassin training makes her movements economical, precise.
A pressure point here drops a wolf shifter pup into unconsciousness.
A joint lock there immobilizes a bear cub without causing pain.
She reads their attacks before they make them, positioning herself to intercept without ever having to strike with full force.
They drop to the ground around her, dazed but unharmed, confusion replacing the blue glow in their eyes for brief moments before the possession reasserts itself.
Kade teleports in rapid succession, black smoke marking each appearance and disappearance.
She grabs a child, vanishes, reappears. Each time she returns, she’s slightly more winded, but the child in her arms always goes limp upon reappearing.
The teleportation shocks their systems just enough that the possessing spirits can’t maintain their hold.
The blue glow fades from their eyes, and they slump into natural sleep.
Leah works beside her mate, creating a rhythm. She uses her magic to corral the children toward Kade, blue and gold threads that guide without harming.
But the witches and warlocks are different.
Their magic doesn’t follow the same rules as their bodies.
A young witch sends a blast of ice that shatters against the wall where my head was a moment before.
A warlock boy creates illusions that multiply his form, making it impossible to track which one is real.
Their power is wild, untrained, and made exponentially more dangerous by the souls directing it.
A door flies open near the end of the hall. Aaron stumbles out in pajama pants and a tank top, his dark short curls sticking up at odd angles. He rubs his eyes, taking in the chaos with the slow processing of someone just waking up. “What the hell is going on?”
A possessed bear cub charges him, claws extended and aimed for his stomach. Aaron’s hands glow instinctively, blue magic flaring. The spell hits the cub square in the chest, sending her sliding backward across the floor without injury. She hits the wall and slumps, momentarily stunned.
Aaron’s eyes go wide as he fully processes the scene. Possessed children. Fighting. Magic everywhere. Then a grin splits his face, equal parts excited and insane. “Holy shit, my school is possessed!”
Angie appears behind him in a flash of blue and gold, Jacob suddenly runs up beside her. Jacob doesn’t hesitate. He shifts partially, his wolf form giving him the strength to scoop Aaron up like he weighs nothing. He throws the boy over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
“Hey!” Aaron pounds on Jacob’s back. “No fair!”
“Shut up, Aaron. You are not helping.” Angie’s voice cracks like a whip, and Aaron’s mouth snaps shut.
“No fair!” Aaron’s protests fade as Jacob carries him away toward safety.
Angie surveys the chaos, magic crackling faintly around her fingertips. Her expression hardens, shifting from mother to warrior. “Oh shit, it’s starting.”