The Nightwalkers Saga: Books 1 - 7

by Candace Wondrak

  “The more you talk the more I—”

  I punched him directly in his face, making him stumble back and look surprised at my sudden outburst. “I said I don’t want to hear your I’m-going-to-kill-you speech. Guess I’m just fickle like that.”

  “That, or you want to die sooner—” Crixis grunted as I kicked him, sending him flying back a few feet. He flashed into a standing position. “Years ago, we wouldn’t have this problem because there was a such thing as courtesy. All people had their say

  before—”

  I went to strike him again, but he easily caught it. “This is the twenty-first century,” I jeered as he twisted my hand and tossed me back like I weighed five pounds, “courtesy doesn’t exist.”

  I hurried to stand, but Crixis flashed on top of me, slamming my back down onto the dewy grass. Mercilessly, he grabbed my neck and constricted. Out of all the moves he’d done so far, I gasped for air, this was the most common. Maybe strangulation was one of his old-time favorites.

  My mouth fell open as I tried breathing in once more. I grabbed his hand with both of mine, trying to pry his off my neck. He had none of it. It was like I was a small, insignificant bug and he was seconds away from squashing me just because.

  That was closer to the truth than I would like it to be.

  Crixis brought his face down to mine, touching his nose to my cheek. “Why can’t I place you? Why do you…”

  As my vision started to blur, I shook my head, signaling that I did not know either. Maybe his senses were a little off tonight.

  “After all this time,” he murmured into my face, “I should have known.” With his hand still around my throat, he lifted me up and smashed me against the ground. I saw stars. “Why?”

  He blinked, eyes becoming red. That’s when I, almost unconscious, noticed something very peculiar. His irises were blood red, and yet his teeth were still normal. No Daywalker fangs. When Daywalkers eyes turned to black, their teeth sharpened. It’s a must-have blend. A Daywalker couldn’t have one or the other; it’s both or none.

  “Before I kill you, I am going to taste you.” Crixis brought his lips to my neck.

  This was it. I didn’t even put up as much of a fight as I wanted to. How disappointing. Crixis was going to feed and kill me. To think some teenagers stressed about what they’re going to wear, what their tests grades were going to be, and who liked who. None of them really knew how much better their lives were than mine.

  A vicious growl rang through the air. It was bizarre because the growl didn’t come from Crixis.

  The man of the hour flashed off of me and snarled in response, leaving my neck intact and untouched. I was alive, and I gasped for air.

  Sitting up, I grabbed my neck and coughed. My breathing needed to catch up with me, otherwise I might actually pass out. And that wouldn’t be good. I glanced at Crixis, taking in the sight of his newly-sharpened teeth, his red eyes, and his hunched figure.

  It was the first time I’d seen him act and look like what he truly was: an animal.

  Crixis bared his teeth, trying to fend off the source of the original growl. I tilted my head to the right, finding that he was not growling at some normal wolf. It was the white wolf.

  Pushing against the grassy ground, I coughed again. I was directly in the middle of their my-teeth-are-bigger-than-yours match, and that was a place I’d rather not be. Once my feet pushed myself another foot away, my mouth dropped when I realized the white wolf was bigger than I imagined.

  Of course, the wolf was scary. The newspaper said it was around five feet, but I thought it meant horizontally, not vertically. If I stood, it would be as tall as me.

  That’s a pretty big wolf.

  Horizontally, the wolf must have been at least eight feet. The claws on this thing alone would pack a heavy punch, but couple that with the teeth and you’ve got a nasty critter.

  Crixis’s red eyes darted from the wolf to me. He probably debated if he could make it to me before the wolf could. His back straightened, cluing me in to the fact that he decided he could take on the white wolf.

  Another white being entered the picture, stepping between me and Crixis. A thunderous roar erupted from the second beast.

  I wasn’t sure what these things were, but I decided I liked them better than I did Crixis.

  The red eyes disappeared and green ones took their place. Crixis stared at me over the two overly large animals. “I don’t know what it is with interruptions…but I can guarantee the next time we meet, the ending will be much different.” A vicious laugh came from him before he flashed away, leaving me alone with the two white creatures.

  Did I manage to get out of a dangerous situation, only to step into another one?

  That was my life, apparently.

  I quickly sat upright and watched the two white animals glance at each other and then to me. The wolf’s eyes dug into me as it stepped closer. I didn’t move; I wasn’t afraid of it. For some reason, I didn’t feel like this wolf wanted to tear me apart like Crixis did.

  My eyes flicked to the other white being. A white cougar, something I’d never heard of before, which meant that these two animals weren’t natural. It was slightly smaller than the wolf and had two, bright blue eyes.

  I furrowed my eyebrows when I switched back to the wolf. Standing, I tried to slow my breathing and get a grasp on this. These white animals saved me from Crixis. Why? How did they know I was in trouble?

  The wolf lowered its head, letting its eyes level with mine. That’s when I noticed that it’s eyes weren’t black, though they might look that way from far away. They were brown. What an odd combination.

  A white wolf with a flawless body and dark brown eyes. Who else did I know with those same characteristics? Only one. But that was impossible, because—well, actually, it’s very possible.

  My voice was slow to come, but once I knew it was ready to speak, I said, “Steven?”

  Its ears perked up at the sound of my voice and its head nodded.

  My head flipped to the white cougar. The vibrant blue eyes. The short hair. The athletic build. If the wolf was Steven, then naturally this cougar must be… “Claire?”

  The sizable feline licked her chops as her blue eyes blinked.

  This was so not happening.

  Turning its back to me, the wolf started walking away, followed shortly by the cougar.

  I contemplated running home as quick as I could or tagging along with them for the current moment. I chose to tag along with them because I needed some answers.

  “Wait,” I said, sprinting for a short time to catch up to them. While we were walking, all I could think about was how weird this was. And how awesome. Weird because I knew nothing about it until now and awesome because I knew Claire and Steven weren’t bad people, so I didn’t have to purify them or anything like that, regardless of the Council’s view on it.

  We passed a group of great trees. I kept going for a bit, not noticing that they stopped. Spinning on my heel, I asked “What are you guys doing?” before I saw the two piles of clothes laying near a tree stump.

  “Oh.” Realization dawned in me. They had to switch back to human form and put their clothes on. That made sense. Clothes didn’t just magically appear. “Right,” I smiled awkwardly, facing the opposite direction.

  I waited patiently, all the while wondering how I was going to tell Gabriel about this. Whoa…forget Gabriel. Max. I had to tell Max. The girl Gabriel and I thought was a perfect match for him was now more perfect.

  If she was a cougar-girl, that meant she knew about the bizarre and Demonic things in this world, which was fantastic for Max. He didn’t even have to go through the pain of hiding something from her when she already knew what he was.

  She’s going to know what I was soon enough, so why not tell her about Max while I was at it?

  Biting my lip, I couldn’t take it anymore. I gave them enough time to get dressed, right? Sure, sure, I decided. “What are you guys?” I inquired with a che
ery tone and a dumb smile on my face as I faced them.

  Claire hurriedly yanked down her shirt and fixed her hair. Steven, on the other hand, seemed to take his time. He was still shirtless and fiddling with his belt when he glanced up, saying, “We call ourselves Morphers.”

  “Morphers?” I repeated.

  “We can morph into animals.” Steven broke eye contact to bend down and pick up his shirt. He inserted his arms in the black dressy shirt and began buttoning those teeny buttons Gabriel always has so much trouble with.

  “Can you change into more than one?” My eyebrows were probably so high they were in the sky.

  “No,” Claire answered me, “just the one.”

  “How come you guys are two totally different animals?” I pointed my stitched-up finger between them. “How did that happen?”

  Steven’s eyes fell on Claire. “I am the most common. Morphers are usually wolves. Anything other than that is rare. Claire’s family has a mutation. Instead of wolves, her sister and her are mountain lions.”

  “Oh,” I stumbled back from the impact of his words.

  “I know it’s a lot to take in,” Steven tried comforting me.

  “No,” I quickly shook my head, “it’s not that. I can’t believe I didn’t pick up on it. That’s the whole reason we moved here, why I’m stuck going to that stupid high school. I’m supposed to be able to detect these sorts of things—” I stopped when I saw the looks they were giving me.

  Claire and Steven probably thought I was crazy. Then again, they were Morphers, so maybe their crazy scale was a bit different than the typical person’s.

  Steven finished with his shirt and eyed me up. “What are you?”

  I chuckled. “You know me. I’m Kass. Nothing out of the ordinary.” They threw some oh, come on stares at me, so I continued, “Well, except that I’m a Purifier.”

  “What’s a Purifier?” Claire glanced at Steven, who nodded in agreement.

  I said, “I’ve been trained since I was a little girl to fight Demons and purify them.” I shrugged. “Mostly I deal with Nightwalkers, you know, lesser Vampires.”

  Awareness filled in Claire’s blue eyes. “Oh. So, you’re kind of like Buffy?”

  My hands moved to my hips. “Yeah…kind of.” That was the only real-world reference she would understand, so I went with it.

  “Is there anyone else like you?” Claire sounded excited. For some very obvious reasons.

  I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but since they saved my life, I was sure Michael would understand. Besides, this way Max and Claire would have an honest relationship. If they ever got the guts to ask each other out, that was. “Gabriel and Max.”

  “Max?” Claire’s eyes widened to the extremes. “Max is like you?”

  A warm smile filled my lips, because I knew what she was thinking. The exact same thing I was. Her and Max were perfect. As perfect as it got. I nodded.

  “That’s cool.” Even though she acted indifferent, I knew deep down she was jumping for joy.

  Steven’s albino eyebrows went together. “Who’re Max and Gabriel?”

  “People from school,” Claire replied heatedly. Either she didn’t want Steven to know anything about Max, or she just didn’t want him to know anything about her personal life. Her blue eyes were upon me. “Oh, God…what should I do? Should I…you know, tell him about me?”

  “That,” Steven interjected, breaking into a brisk walk, “we can discuss later. Right now, I need to get both of you home. That man might still be out here.”

  Claire nibbled her chapped lip, looked at me, and followed him, running to catch up. I was beside her in seconds, saying, “So the famous white wolf isn’t a werewolf.”

  A short, rough laugh came from Steven as he glanced back to us. His impossibly dark eyes met mine. “A werewolf? I think you’ve been watching too many movies. A wolf-like creature who’s normal for twenty-eight days and turns into this unstable killing machine every month? Absolutely unrealistic.”

  “I know. Sad. But after the last few weeks, I figured anything was possible,” I specified.

  His blonde head spun, and he eyed me up.

  My gaze fell to the sidewalk. It became uneven over the years as the trees around it kept growing at a steady rate. Werewolves weren’t real. That much I already knew. There was already enough bad in the world. Looking up sharply, I spoke, “So there’s no connection between the werewolf and the Morpher?”

  “We are typically wolves,” Steven paused, rubbing his clean-shaven face, “so there could be a connection. A man could have seen a Morpher change during a full moon, and his imagination created the rest.”

  “Could have?” I echoed. “Does that mean you don’t believe that?”

  “Honestly, I never thought about it. Maybe,” he said, his pair of brown eyes falling on Claire, “you’re asking the wrong person here.”

  I angled my head to Claire. She was busy acting like she wasn’t paying attention, messing with her short hair. “What do you think?”

  “Huh?” Her eyes seemed genuinely lost. “You mean the whole werewolf thing? I think there are some things that are just like us, only a little different. If we exist, what’s to say werewolves don’t? Don’t get me wrong, it’s not likely. But the possibility is present.”

  “I, for one, hope they don’t, because I’d rather not get into a fight with a freaking werewolf,” I said with hints of sarcasm and seriousness combined.

  “Let me get this straight,” Steven cut between Claire and I, “you’re afraid to fight a werewolf, something that isn’t real, but you’re fine fighting that…thing?” He lifted his hand and pointed. “How does that work?”

  “First of all, that was Crixis, a Daywalker,” I corrected his thing statement, “and I don’t have a choice with that one. But if I did…” My voice trailed off. If I had a choice, I’d still fight him. I had to, it was my God-given duty.

  It was my God-given duty to get myself killed as quickly as possible. At least, that’s what it seemed like.

  Chapter Fifteen – Gabriel

  There was some place that I needed to be, but I couldn’t find my way out of this field. When did I even get here? And where was this? I spun on my heel, seeking the nearest way out of the greenness.

  But there was none.

  Green as far as my eyes could see. A flat, grassy green landscape was always a good sign—wait a second, it never was a good sign.

  The tattoos on my arms swirled, moving for the first time in a while. As strange as that was, I needed to find Kass. She was in trouble; I could feel it.

  “Calm yourself.”

  My eyebrows lifted immediately as I reached a slightly trembling hand to my mouth. Did I just say that? It definitely sounded like my voice. This was getting weirder than it already was. Great.

  Ignoring the movement on my body, I frantically glanced around, for the millionth time. What if Kass got hurt while I was stuck here? What if…

  Pain surged through my arms and legs, making me bend my knees and fall to the ground. After I became used to the pain, I opened my wincing eyes to gaze at the skin on my arms, which were suddenly tattoo-free. That wasn’t natural. Tattoos didn’t just hop off whenever they felt like it.

  “For the moment, she is fine,” my voice said. But this time, it didn’t come from my mouth. It came from someone else.

  A light shone, bright to the point of temporary blindness. Good thing I was able to heal myself. As a precaution, I slowly brought my eyes upward, using a hand to shield them from the direct light.

  In seconds the light dimmed, and I was left on the grassy floor, alone and staring at myself. He, the other me, stood looking, if I could say so myself, pretty awesome in white metal armor.

  Wow, I thought as I stood and met my gaze. Did I normally look that badass? If so, sweet, and if not, I needed to work on it. It was now my goal to someday look that cool, minus the armor. Even if it was sweet, I wasn’t looking to sport a Lord of the Rings look, at least in pu
blic, when it wasn’t Halloween.

  “What’s going on?” I said, noticing how his hair was completely white. If my actual hair ever turned white, I’d forgo my anti-hair dying opinions and buy myself some dark blonde hair color. My hair already took two steps in that direction when it suddenly became ten shades blonder overnight a little while back. White hair was too…white.

  “I called you here.”

  “So, you’re saying I called myself to this,” I said as I motioned around me, “field? Why would I do that?”

  “You did no such thing. I did,” he righted me.

  “Dude,” I spoke slowly, “besides the hair and the debatable badass-ness, you are me.”

  His white head shook. “I am not.”

  Forgetting to control my temper, I yelled, “Then who are you?”

  The setting sun flowed off his (or my, I guessed) wide shoulders. “I am no one.”

  “What?”

  “Yet I am everyone.”

  “What the…”

  “I am nothing.”

  “…heck?”

  “Yet I am everything.”

  “I’m not making any sense. And I don’t mean me, I mean you.” I lifted my finger toward him. I was starting to have enough of this nonsense.

  “I am knowledge, experience, wisdom. I am your strengths and your weaknesses. I am your power and your vulnerability. Your supremacy, inferiority, defiance and humbleness. The fatal flaw and the winning hand. You are not yet me, but soon, you could be.”

  “What?” I rubbed my cheek, hand getting prickled by my stubble.

  “The truth is not a living thing, and yet it can act as thus,” he paused, staring at me with my own two, blue eyes, “it can be both kind and cruel, difficult and easy, simple and complex.”

  “Cut the crap,” I said, taking a belligerent stance. “What does all that mean?”

  “Trust no one. Believe in no one but yourself. You are the only one who can change our destiny.”

  The other me began to fade, making me say, “Wait, hold on. What does…” I stopped when I was alone in the field once more and my tattoos were safely back on my body.