The Nightwalkers Saga: Books 1 - 7

by Candace Wondrak

  “I’m sorry,” I spoke into his chest. I was getting his shirt bloody, but neither he nor I cared. We lost clothing on a daily basis. When he didn’t say anything, or even hug me back, I leaned my chin on his chest, gazing up at him with the best innocent expression I could muster.

  Gabriel’s steely gaze softened, and soon he was wrapping his arms around me. “God, Kass. You need to stop running off without me. If you’re going to run into danger, the least you could do is invite me along.” Keeping one arm around me tightly, he gently moved a hand to my neck. “Tell me it wasn’t Crixis.”

  Thankful that he was keeping to our bargain and not barging in on my thoughts, I whispered, “No.”

  “Then who?”

  I forced a smile, shaking my head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  His look spoke volumes, but he didn’t question me further. A tingling sensation erupted on my neck, slowly spreading throughout my whole body. A nice, soothing feeling. I’d felt something similar in the other world, when…

  Gabriel jerked back, exclaiming, “Whoa. I healed you just now. I thought about it, and then I did it. Easy-peasy. Why couldn’t I heal Michael?”

  Shaking off an uneasy feeling, not wanting my Gabriel to turn into the Devil, I asked, “How is he?”

  “He woke up, poured himself some tea, and kicked all the Council crew out of our house,” Gabriel spoke with a chuckle. “He was very stern. Very Guardian-like. You would’ve been proud.”

  “And Max?”

  He shrugged. “Cleo has him, I guess.”

  “I have to shower. After…how about some Mario Kart?”

  Gabriel nodded once. “Whatever you want, Kass.”

  Whatever I want.

  If only things were always that simple.

  The next few days passed in a blur, and I lived them in a haze. It was a dark, gloomy, rainy day when we held Koath’s funeral. Cleo made all the arrangements, even got the Council to pay for a headstone, but she didn’t attend. Not many people did.

  Michael, Gabriel and I. Max, of course. Claire and Steven showed up. Gabriel must’ve called them. They each hugged me, telling me how sorry they were. It was very similar to how I’d acted at Claire’s father’s funeral. Who knew I’d go to one of hers, and she’d come to one of mine?

  Life’s just funny like that.

  Claire stood next to Max, holding his hand. Max didn’t shake her off. He seemed as sad as me. This was the second Guardian he’d lost. He should be thankful that he didn’t find Koath in the kitchen, his throat torn out. He should count himself lucky.

  The ceremony was over. We all stood there for the longest time as the rain pelted our umbrellas. Claire and Steven were the first to go. They only knew him as the school principal, after all. They didn’t know how much he meant to us. Michael was the second to head to the car, feeling tired. After what he went through, I couldn’t blame him.

  Gabriel, Max and I stood, staring at his casket. Immaculate cherry wood. Elegant yet simple. He would’ve liked it.

  I dug in my pocket, retrieving Koath’s rings. I made moves to set them stop the casket so they could be lowered with it, but Gabriel stopped me by saying, “Did you look at the engravings, Kass?”

  “No, I didn’t want—”

  “Look at them,” Gabriel spoke softly.

  Eyebrows creasing, I brought the rings to my face. When I saw the inner engravings, I wanted to puke. Or scream. Something to let it out. My mouth hung open, but nothing came out.

  Koath Niles.

  Niles, not Elsin.

  Koath was my father.

  I had a father all along, and I lost him before I even knew.

  Clutching the chain to my chest, knowing that I couldn’t part with it now, I muttered, “I want to go home.”

  Home would never feel the same.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven – Crixis

  Standing on a hill on the opposite side of the cemetery, I watched the ceremony. It was a small, useless attempt at saying goodbye. Such things usually were. The rain soaked through my clothes instantly.

  The idea of killing him came to me easily enough. Pitting her against Raphael; that I hadn’t planned, but it was a fun addition. Although, now, I wasn’t having nearly as much fun as I thought. I was disappointed.

  A figure stepped out of a blue rift, moving beside me. Raphael wore normal clothes. I raised a brow at that. I must’ve gotten to him. I hadn’t seen him without that white collar in ages. “If you’ve come to pay your respects, I must say, you’re doing a piss-poor job of it. The body’s down there.”

  Raphael didn’t reply for the longest time. “It did not work.”

  Sighing, I said, “I know.” Of course I knew my plan failed. I wasn’t an idiot. They seemed to fail more and more lately, thanks to Kass and her moronic crew.

  Gazing off into the distance, my old friend spoke, “If you plan on hurting anyone else, I will stop you. You will not get in my head again.”

  “Would you believe,” I started slowly, “that I’m growing tired of this game?”

  Raphael was quick to say, “No.”

  I smirked.

  “Something is coming,” he continued, turning to look at me. “Something older than you.”

  I instantly became worried, and I was not one to worry. I was invincible and immortal. Nothing could harm me. My mind recalled the Witch at the club, what she said. When I came to only conclusion I could come to, I uttered a single word: “Bitch.”

  That was all I could say.

  I vanished.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight – Kass

  I didn’t even have time to fully realize how much I truly didn’t know as I grew up with Koath. If he was my father, why didn’t he ever tell me? Why did the Council allow him to be my Guardian? Why make me a Purifier to begin with? He knew making me one would shorten my life immeasurably.

  As we pulled up to the house, Max and Gabriel stuffed in the back seat, I saw a certain person I hadn’t wanted to see for a long time standing near the front door with two suitcases. Instead of his priest’s outfit, he wore civilian clothes. He looked normal.

  But I knew better.

  Michael put the car in park. I flipped to him, glaring. “What is he doing here?”

  “Oh, yes. Right. I forgot to mention that I called him and invited him to stay with us.” Michael, seeing my reaction, further explained, “We have plenty of room. And after what happened, well, I believe we’re better together than apart. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  I muttered some form of affirmative, crawling out of the car. Gabriel sensed that something was off, and he hurried to my side, shooting Raphael a glare. “He’s staying here? Great. Just what this house needs: more testosterone.”

  At that, I managed a small chuckle.

  Gabriel moved to stand beside him. Feeling uneasy, Raphael avoided my eyes, saying something about not having a key so he couldn’t get in. All Gabriel did was harrumph.

  Max was slow to meet us while Michael got out of the car. His cell ran, and he speedily answered. The Englishman nearly dropped his phone on the gravel. “You’re coming here, now?” A pause. “No, of course it’s fine. I’ll see you in a bit.” The moment he hung up, he ran past us. “Bloody hell. All hands on deck. I want this house spotless. Clean your rooms. Max, vacuum the living room. Raphael, the dishes. I’ll scrub the floor in the vestibule.”

  Gabriel and I exchanged looks.

  What was this about?

  Max and Raphael shuffled inside, and Michael quickly shouted, “Watch your feet. The mud!” He then told us where to put our soaking coats and shoes. In all my life I’d never seen Michael get this antsy.

  I was about to make a half-hearted comment when I stepped forward, into a vision.

  A ship in the wide, open sea. Anchors down. A crew worked to lift something onto its deck. The captain, a woman with an attitude, motioned for her crew to open it. The seaweed-covered, metal box snapped open when two crew members cut through the chains that held it closed. Opening it, t
he captain laughed. As she went inside her cabin to make a call, I headed around the box to see its contents.

  A severed torso.

  At one point, it must’ve belonged to a woman, but that was a long time ago.

  I snapped back to reality.

  Whatever that thing was, somebody was trying to assemble her. If they succeeded, I had a nagging suspicion that we were doomed.

  But maybe that’s just me being dramatic.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine – Cleo

  Sitting on the couch, I fiddled with Koath’s computer. I had a while by myself. The little brat was over Michael’s. I worked to recover the lost documents, setting it aside as I went to the kitchen for some coffee. I poured myself a hot cup, inhaling its fantastic scent.

  In my back pocket, my phone buzzed.

  Picking it up, I said, “Hello?”

  Hearing the results, I nearly spilled the cup.

  “Wonderful. Ship it to me immediately.” I hung up, running up the stairs and into my bedroom, which I told the boy was off-limits. The brat complied. If it had been that other Purifier, Gabriel, then I might’ve worried.

  The room was mostly bare, save for the bed, a dresser, and the old metal boxes that housed something that even perfection could not describe. I had every piece, save for her midsection.

  I lightly caressed the box that contained the severed head. “Soon, my Queen. Soon you will return, and the world will pay for what it did to you.”

  The original lioness would reclaim her kingdom.

  Humans and Purifiers alike would pay.

  Originals

  Chapter One – Kass

  If there was ever a time when I needed sleep, it would be right now. I had to be extremely well rested twenty-four hours/seven days a week because no one could predict the exact moment Crixis would chose to make his appearance and try to—cue eye roll—kill me.

  I guessed I was just lucky enough that every other time he’d tried, someone had always been there with me, giving me some backup in an otherwise terrible situation, whether it was Rain or Steven or Claire.

  That didn’t stop the uneasy feeling I had, though.

  I’d also been told many times that my death was something I couldn’t avoid and that it’s going to come sooner than I hoped but later than I thought. Obviously, anything before a natural, ripe and old death was sooner than I hoped. That left the later than I think part up for grabs, because I swore I thought I was going to die about ten times in the last week, no joke.

  Did that mean I was going to kick it anytime now?

  Maybe my hatred towards Crixis would keep boiling up until I was blind with rage, making me an all-too easy target. Maybe he would murder everyone I care about, just like he did my father, Koath, until there was no one left but me.

  I hoped to God that wouldn’t turn out to be true.

  I missed Koath. He had only been gone for a day and a half, but I missed him so much. If I’d known he was my father before Crixis killed him, I would have enjoyed the time I spent with him so much more.

  I was sad, yes. Anyone in their right mind would be sad after learning their Guardian was really their father, finding their body while being ignorant to that very fact—but I was also me, and because of that, my sadness was dwarfed by my anger, my rage, my impulsiveness. I might’ve went after Rafael after learning some things about him, too. I needed someone to blame. Someone I could actually hit.

  Speaking of hitting, if only I was out in the field, purifying some Nightwalkers. That’d blow off some anger and grief like nothing else could. Too bad I was beyond exhausted from my life and avoiding Crixis while coming up with a plan. Right now, all I had was: beat him.

  But how do you beat something that can’t die?

  Rolling to my side, I glanced at the alarm clock. It was three in the morning. Holy freaking crap. You would think that since I was tired and weary, I’d get right to the unconscious bit and not take over six hours to fall asleep, but that’s not how it worked with me.

  Huffing and puffing like I was the big, bad wolf himself, I got to my feet and took baby steps to the room across the hall. The coldness of the metal doorknob shocked my warm skin before I was able to successfully open it. To my annoyance, the door decided now would be the best time to creak loudly.

  Whatever, right?

  In seconds, I gently closed the door and walked to the bed, where a big, six-foot lump was rolled up in the soft sheets. When I came closer, I saw tuffs of his bleached blonde hair flying every which way.

  And I thought I had bad bed head.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, mere inches from him, I set my hand on his shoulder and shook him.

  His sapphire eyes were open in an instant and he was in the process of sitting up when I realized he was shirtless. His muscular chest was covered in the thin, intricate tattoo that had suddenly appeared on him a while back. The Celtic cross on his chest seemed like a baby’s tattoo compared to it.

  My eyes fell to his abdomen as I thought, God, please let him have pants on under there.

  A handsome smile formed on his defined jaw. “I do, though you’re welcome to take them off.” Gabriel smiled broadly as he answered my thoughts. Good thing he could somehow read my mind, because there was no way I could’ve asked that question aloud.

  I lightly smacked his arm, saying, “No. Sicko.” I should’ve scolded him for reading my thoughts. He wasn’t supposed to. It was creepy and invasive.

  Gabriel breathed in heavily while saying, “It’s three in the morning. I’m sure you didn’t come here just to check if I had some pants on. Oh, and by the way, they’re boxers. Glow in the dark ones, too. Want to see?” He gripped the sheets and began lifting them up, completely serious about showing me.

  Oh, dear Lord. No.

  “I swear,” he laughed, “I could stay up all night playing with it.” Gabriel pursed his lips together and thought. “Wait. That sounded wrong.”

  I giggled at his foolishness. “A little. But, no.” I forced his hands down, covering his glow in the dark boxers. “I don’t want to see that. I just…” Ah, how could I say this without sounding like I was a three-year-old? “Can’t sleep.”

  Way to fail, Kass. Way. To. Fail.

  Gabriel whispered, scooting over and giving me room, “This isn’t a late night/early morning booty-call? I figured, but I’m disappointed.”

  I said, “Stop. I’m beginning to think this was the wrong idea.”

  “Oh.” Gabriel turned serious. Something he always did before he deadpanned his next sentence. “So, coming into a guy’s room at three in the morning’s a good idea, unless he’s super talkative? Uh-huh. You sure this isn’t a booty-call?”

  “Gabriel.” I smacked him again. That only got him more wound up, so I decided that I’d play his game. For about three seconds. “If I wanted a booty-call from you, you’d know it.”

  “Ooh, snap.”

  Once I controlled my eye rolling, I said, “But really. I can’t sleep.”

  “And what, my dear raccoon, would make you think that you’ll get any sleep in here, with me? If anything, you’ll get less sleep.” Gabriel winked.

  I ignored the heat rushing to my face, saying, “You’re such a jerk.”

  Gabriel faked a laugh before pulling me down onto his bed. “I am. I am such a jerk. A jerky jerk who lives in Jerktown next to the Jerksons who go on their annual jerky vacations to a place called—”

  Setting my head on his pillow and getting under the covers, I interrupted, “Jerkville?”

  “What?” He placed his head beside mine, using his two blue eyes to stare holes through me. “No. Hawaii. Come on, Kass, I thought I made that clear?” With a feigned grunt, the back of his head was shoved in my face.

  A slow, elongated sigh escaped my lungs as I took in the coziness of his bed. Was it just me, or was his mattress fluffier than mine? Was his pillow softer? It sure seemed like it.

  “It is,” Gabriel flopped over, facing me once more. A hand was placed
on my stomach. “I am in it, after all, so it’s naturally going to be comfier.”

  Feeling the sleep coming, I murmured “Gabriel, get your hand off me—” before I fell into a pleasant, dreamless/visionless sleep.

  Michael was making omelets. Trying to make omelets, I should say, because he went through a good half an hour without cooking something edible. Of course, it wasn’t like I liked omelets anyway, so it was all the same to me.

  While I came to terms with the fact that I sat only a few feet away from where Koath died, Gabriel jumped down the stairs and into the kitchen, looking as spiffy as ever. He sat across from me, a huge smile plastered on his face. It was killing him not to say something to my thoughts. Yet again, the boy wasn’t listening to me when I told him to lay off (or out of) my head.

  “Where’s Raphael?” I spoke the question, regardless of how Gabriel would react.

  To my surprise, Gabriel did not outwardly act jealous. But he did do something, saying “Where’s Raphael?” in a high-pitched, mocking tone under his breath.

  Our Guardian fixed his glasses as he turned to us, temporarily forgetting that he had three omelets to look after. “I sent him out with a list of groceries.”

  I said “What?” the exact time Gabriel laughed, saying, “You sent him out on a grocery run? Priceless!” He smacked the kitchen table, acting as if it were a joke worthy of a knee slap. “You should have told him to pick out good fruit.” Lifting a finger to his eye, he wiped an imaginary tear away. “That’s such a girl’s job—I mean…”

  My famous death glare stopped him cold.

  “What was I saying again?” Gabriel stood and walked next to Michael, had burned yet another omelet. He picked up the spatula and said, “Do you want me to make them? I’m sure they can’t turn out as bad as those chocolate chip cookies I made that one time.”