The Nightwalkers Saga: Books 1 - 7

by Candace Wondrak

“What? Speak up, Gabriel.”

  “I said it was Raphael.” Gabriel finally brought his head up. He had a huge red mark where the table had been. I would have laughed, but the fact that Raphael called and Gabriel responded with a “we’ll be there” made me think twice and realize that we had to go over to the church. Presumably to learn something.

  Like I haven’t learned enough somethings already.

  “Yes?” Michael urged him, trying to get more details of the conversation.

  “He said to come to the church, go around back to the field. Straight away,” Gabriel mocked Raphael.

  “Then what are you both waiting for?”

  “He said we have to,” Gabriel paused and looked at me, “wear comfortable clothes.”

  “What?” I whined. Comfortable clothes? What did that mean? It was such an unclear statement. There was more than one type of comfortable. Did he mean baggy jeans comfortable, or roll out of bed comfortable, or…well, I could think of lots of others.

  “And he said to bring some reading material…” Gabriel turned from me to Michael. “From Michael’s library.”

  “But all my books are about—” Michael went off on a tangent, probably trying to name the title of every single book he owned. All of them boring and about Demons.

  “Yeah, well. I’m off to change and pick some out, I guess.” Gabriel stood up and stomped upstairs.

  I looked at Michael. “Do I have to? I just ate…”

  Michael gave me that look he always gives me. Yes, I had to do it, even if I didn’t want to.

  And let me say, I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  You can’t just say wear something comfortable to a girl, or else you’d get a wide variety of what something comfortable really was. Some girls thought heels and little, tiny dresses were comfortable. Others would go for their fat jeans and a t-shirt. Some might even go for those little shorts with the elastic waistband, sweatpants. The list went on and on.

  But me, here I was, walking around the rundown church wearing some clothes that were very comfortable, except they weren’t mine. I wore Gabriel’s clothes, because long story short: I didn’t know what I thought was comfortable and Gabriel was tired of waiting for me, so he took the initiative and threw some clothes at me.

  That’s how I came to wear Gabriel’s basketball shorts and one of his Star Wars t-shirts, with a pair of tennis shoes. But hey, give me some credit. At least the tennis shoes were mine. Gabriel himself wore a newer pair of basketball shorts and an Office Space shirt. Him and his nerdy shirts.

  We made it to the back of the church, which was a miracle all in itself, when I saw another miracle: a field of recently cut grass and no Raphael in sight. I think I heard us both exhale a relief-filled sigh.

  In a moment our sighs were cut off by the man himself, Raphael, who apparently came up behind us. “Who would like to go first?”

  Without turning around to face him, Gabriel replied, “Kass would.”

  I pushed him, because I didn’t even know what I was supposed to do, and I sure as heck didn’t want to volunteer. My push didn’t do much.

  “Gabriel take a seat and start reading.”

  Gabriel glanced down at the book, titled Hunger Demons Vol. 1, and then around at the field. “Sit where?”

  “Anywhere you won’t get in our way,” Raphael answered, already looking annoyed at the blonde boy.

  Gabriel shrugged, said “Alright” and walked over to the side of the church. He sat, leaning his back on the dark stone wall, and opened the book, feigning interest so he wouldn’t have to look at my face, which probably was quite murderous.

  As I was busy shooting Gabriel a glare, I was measured in returning my unhappy look to Raphael. For a strange reason, my unhappiness faded as I studied him. What did I do in a previous life that I deserved to have so many good-looking guys in my life? Currently, I didn’t care if I couldn’t touch them. Looking was enough. And right now, I got an eyeful of the young tutor.

  I didn’t even know how to describe it. All I knew was that he was not in his priest clothes, and he looked good, to say the absolute least. He was actually wearing a plain white shirt with some black pants, and his hands were wrapped in…bandages.

  Wait. What? Bandages? Why were his hands wrapped up like he was in an old-fashioned Kung-Fu movie? And why did he hold four more strips of the same said bandage?

  I had my answer when he handed me two and threw the other two towards Gabriel.

  “Put them on,” Raphael ordered as he turned and walked a few steps away from me.

  I didn’t like where this was going. “Why?” I asked him, though I knew why. I just didn’t want to believe it. But, regardless, I began to wrap my knuckles and hands in the bandages anyway.

  “It will help protect your fists. If you do not care about having bloody knuckles, then by all means.” Raphael held up his own hands. “Do not wrap.”

  I waited a few moments before responding, “I think I’m going to wrap.” After about a minute or so, my hands were fully prepared for the fight that was about to take place.

  “Good.” Raphael spread his legs apart and held up his fists directly in front of his chest. “Come at me. Do not hold back.” As his light eyes danced under the sun, I realized that he was smiling, as if he knew he was going to enjoy this.

  Cracking my neck, I readied my fists and charged. I was close to landing the first blow on him, but at the last possible second he sidestepped, completely dodging my hand.

  He’s fast. Before I could turn to face him, he grabbed the arm that was still outstretched and twisted. Since half of me was incapacitated, I threw a punch at him with my left hand, but with skill, he blocked that using his other hand.

  Keeping a hold on both my arms and showing no signs of letting go, Raphael swept his foot underneath mine, causing me to fall to the ground. In a flash he was on top of me and gingerly holding my neck.

  “You’re dead.” Raphael leapt off me, landing on his two feet gracefully. “Again.”

  Again? I had to fight (and probably lose) to this guy again? This was definitely going to be a super fun Saturday. Well, anyway, that first attempt was not the best show of my skills.

  We both got in our own ready stance, and as I met his stare, I knew I wasn’t going to make the first move this time. Everyone knew the person who made the first move usually lost, or at least got the crap beat out of them.

  “How about you come after me this time?” I yelled across the field after a few minutes passed. The sun recently decided to venture out from behind the clouds. And that, let me tell you, was a fine how-do-you-do at nine in the morning on a Saturday. A day that I liked to sleep in until at least ten or even eleven if I’m feeling adventurous.

  “The outcome will be the same,” Raphael said simply.

  We’ll see about that.

  I said nothing; only motioned for him to come.

  And that he did. That he certainly did. It took every ounce of concentration I had to block every blow he threw at me. Not once did I have an opening to get a fist of my own in there. It was like he wasn’t even human. As Raphael continued his assault on me, I expertly wrapped both my arms around his and held them there, still. The mostly one-sided barrage of attacks turned into a stalemate.

  I kept my head away from his, fearing he’d try to headbutt me. For all you kiddies out there: headbutts were not fun for your head, no matter what some movies showed.

  As fast as I could, I unwound my arms from his, grabbing the backs of Raphael’s hands so he couldn’t hold on to me, and pulled myself. I was horizontal to the grassy ground for a split second, and then I kicked his chest hard with both my feet, letting his hands go the exact moment I did.

  Raphael flew back a few feet before he managed to catch himself. Instead of saying what a good job I’d done, he just came running back to try to land his own double kick on me.

  I was ready. I ducked and rolled, missing both kicks. They would have landed on my face, which made me think tw
o things. One: Raphael must be really, really flexible, and two: he was not holding back.

  And, even though he told me to not hold back, I kind of did. I just thought it was strange to go all out on a fight with the guy who’s supposed to be teaching me. What if I broke his neck? Or his arm? Or his leg? Or his…nose?

  God only knew how many times I’d broken Gabriel’s nose. Seriously. Gabriel and I lost count somewhere after ten.

  Raphael must not care about getting hurt. And on top of that, he also didn’t care about hurting me either, taking account of the fact that his foot had come an inch away from my face.

  Something in my brain switched as I thought, that’s it. I was not going to hold back anymore. Raphael was going down. Down, I said, D-O-W-N.

  Except my plan was slightly flawed, because I was the one going down.

  I fell, and within seconds on the ground. Again. And Raphael’s foot came down on my face, which I guessed was his way of saying that he won again. He was probably going to stop short and tell me exactly that, in a more dignified, refined way, of course.

  The only problem was, I wasn’t going to let him do that.

  I grabbed his foot before it made its complete descent and used my strength to stop him, jerking the foot away from me. Jumping up, I noticed Raphael was surprised by my sheer strength.

  How did I notice his approval? He smiled—only for a second though, for as quick as it came, it disappeared. Probably to never see the light of day again. When I saw that true, genuine smile on his handsome face, I comprehended how few and far between his smiles were. I could, in all honesty, count the smiles, grins, and smirks I’d seen on one hand, without using my thumb.

  I rolled my shoulders; they were tense. And tensing right in the middle of a fight was not good. Especially when fighting an expert like Raphael. Running towards him, I knew exactly what he thought.

  He thought I was going to try hitting him, like silly me had in the first round. But I had something different planned. I feigned a punch, spinning around to his side and kicking the back of his knee, which made him fall to the ground.

  Did I say fall to the ground? I meant almost fall to the ground.

  Right before his other knee went down, Raphael straightened that leg out and swung it around, twisting on the knee that I kicked, and knocked me on the ground.

  The ground and I always met under the most terrible circumstances.

  Before he could stand and straighten himself, I hopped into a standing position, my speed slightly faster than his.

  This fight was actually getting a little fun. Yeah, some girls would think ice skating was fun, others might love a good romance novel, and others might even love going to a fancy restaurant and getting flowers.

  I was happiest while kicking a little Demon butt, or while reading up on new ways to purify them in Killing Demons: How to Make it Fun, or even while getting some Chinese.

  I smiled when I realized that I was sweating. I was really sweating—talk about exciting. This day was getting better and better. And this time, I was serious. No sarcasm there, for once.

  Raphael and I collided as we each tried hitting one other. Not one of us landed a blow; we were both too good to let any past our defenses. That’s when Raphael grabbed my wrist and twisted me toward him, my back colliding against his chest.

  Under a normal situation, this would actually be nice. His chest was strong and solid. But I had a feeling he was going to pretend to bite me and say I was dead again, so before he had a chance to do that, I shifted my stance so my legs were two feet apart and pushed against him with my backside. And, while pushing him with my butt, I pulled him with all my might, flipping him up and over me.

  He landed on the ground with a loud thud.

  I acted like I had a stake in my hand and in seconds was on top of Raphael, who had remained on the ground, unmoving. While sitting on top of his stomach, I held my imaginary stake to his heart, saying, “You’re dead.”

  Raphael leaned his head up and looked at the hand that was expertly placed above his heart. He then looked at me and said, “Good. But what if you don’t have a stake?”

  “Then I…kick your head off,” I answered, embarrassed that I was out of breath. He gave me a look that asked if I was insane, so I said, “A few well-placed kicks and your decomposing neck will be like a toothpick. And after a roundhouse kick, it’ll come clean off. What?” I leaned down, closer to his face, for he had both eyebrows raised as if I had just pulled that tidbit from my butt. “It’s true. It’s happened before, I swear. Right, Gabriel?”

  And on cue, Gabriel responded, “Yep. Seen it with my own eyes. Well, the peripherals anyway.”

  The man below me seemed to give up. “Alright, alright. I’ve never heard of that before, but I will have to try it next time I see a Nightwalker. Now—” Raphael’s head leaned back to the grassy ground as his emerald gaze twinkled. “—you can get off of me, Kassandra.”

  I looked down, realizing that I was still sitting on him comfortably, as if I did it in my spare time, sitting on handsome men’s chests like a model. “Oops.”

  Cheeks burning, I slowly got off of him and stood up. I figured I’d be nice (and possibly earn some brownie points) and hold out a hand to him, offering to help him up. But I didn’t think he’d actually take my hand.

  Raphael took my hand and pulled, both of which I did not expect.

  Then I remembered I had been sitting on him, putting all my weight on his chest, and for quite a while, too. And, let me say, I was not one of those unhealthy girls who weighed a hundred pounds. Not in a million years. Muscle weighed more than fat, and I wasn’t exactly short in the butt or boobs department.

  I probably crushed his lungs, which was why he needed so much help getting up.

  Or he took my hand to be polite, since I was being nice and offering.

  But I was thinking it’s the first one.

  “Good,” Raphael applauded me, his lips drawn into a thin line. But, coming from him, I should have known what was coming next. “It could have been better, though. Much better.”

  “What?” I was aghast, angry. “But I beat you,” I reminded him, in case he forgot.

  “Yes. Once. The second round. It only takes one time, Kassandra, for an enemy to get the better of you and you pay the ultimate price. That’s what makes our lives so dangerous. We have to be on high alert constantly.” Raphael had lost all trace of his good-looking tutor guise and had turned into a stern mentor with a penchant for frowns.

  I rolled my eyes. I knew all that. A real Nightwalker would not have been as hard as Raphael to beat.

  “Next time when I say do not hold back, do not hold back,” Raphael’s applauding tone had turned utterly harsh. “And if the time comes, when I feel you are ready, I shall not hold back either.”

  “What?” Somehow, the thought of Raphael holding back while fighting me was insulting and demeaning. “I thought you were going all out!”

  “I never said I wasn’t holding back. If I gave that fight my all you’d be dead. Or, at the least, broken into many tiny pieces,” Raphael replied, almost smug. “Now.” He walked over to Gabriel, who actually seemed enthralled in the book, which was odd, since he never read and when he did, he did it with a sneer. “Gabriel. It is your turn. Let us see if you do a better job.”

  Gabriel stood and handed me the book. He said, “Probably not, if I have to get in those positions with you. I don’t want my body pressed up against yours, in any capacity. It’d be different if you were a sexy female, but you’re just a sexy man. Don’t want that.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t believe he just called Raphael sexy, even if it was a little true.

  “What?” Gabriel looked at me through his shaggy blonde hair. He hadn’t gelled it today, which might have been the first time in a long time. “I was just saying what you were thinking.”

  That made me want to throw the book at his face. I’d probably break his nose again.

  But to my relief, Raphael
ignored that comment entirely. “Demons do not care what you want, Gabriel. They are not going to change into an attractive form just for you.”

  “Really?” Gabriel acted astounded. “Wow. All my life I thought that’s how it worked… thanks for putting me on the right track, buddy,” he said while setting a hand on Raphael’s shoulder.

  Raphael stared at the hand that rested on his shoulder like it was a spider with three heads and sixteen legs. A look that had anger, confusion, and pity.

  Gabriel quickly took it off.

  Raphael turned to me for one last time before heading out into the field. “And be sure to read that book well, because after I am through with Gabriel, I am going to quiz you both.”

  “How do you know what’s all in this book?” I asked while Gabriel ran back behind Raphael.

  “Trust me,” the man spoke honestly, “I know.”

  It was Gabriel’s turn to ask a question, his yellow brows up in surprise. “How come you didn’t tell me this before you fought Kass?”

  Raphael sighed and walked away, finally replying, “Because I want you to fail and Kass to succeed.”

  Gabriel’s mouth dropped, and he didn’t speak for a moment, quietly contemplating. He was very slow in saying, “I knew it. It’s because I’m a man, isn’t it? Because I don’t have boobs, like Kass.”

  “Gabriel, you’re so stupid,” I said, like it was the simplest thing in the world, and to me it was.

  “I knew it. But still, if I would have known…I would have read more.” Gabriel started to walk towards Raphael, who was waiting with an irritated look on his face, turning to yell, “That book makes a great pillow by the way.”

  “Oh, my bruises,” I whined, simultaneously enjoying the recline and softness of the couch.

  “That’s nothing.” Gabriel sat next to me, feeling the same as me. This couch was really comfy after you got a beating. Not a real beating, of course, but it was pretty much the same. Raphael had quizzed us on the book, and since neither of us knew anything, he made us fight.

  We were pooped. I’d never been so sore in my life. And that’s the truth. Raphael was a damn good fighter. To think he was holding back. It made me wonder how good he was when he wasn’t holding back.