The Nightwalkers Saga: Books 1 - 7

by Candace Wondrak

  I wasn’t big on materialistic things. Not really. Not when I was fated to die an early death.

  I laid the necklace atop a pile of clothes on my dresser. Somewhere beneath the stacks was a jewelry box, where the ring Alyssa gave me also sat after I’d finally taken it off after we beat Sephira, but I didn’t feel like digging for it. I didn’t feel like living through that part of my past again.

  Two parts of Gabriel. Was my Gabriel capable of all the things he was? I wondered as I remembered the tiredness in the other Gabriel’s eyes, the slight wrinkles on his face. I stopped myself from thinking something truly bad, something I’d never forgive myself for, and instead, as I laid down in bed, I thought of me.

  The other me.

  I was with Crixis. I was a Daywalker. I was dead, and I made a lot of questionable choices, if they were indeed choices at all. It was possible, though slight, that Crixis compelled me to stay with him, forcefully twisted my head so that I was as cruel as he was.

  But—and here’s the scary part—what if he didn’t? What if the other me was not compelled at all, and willfully did all those things? Willingly stayed with Crixis and betrayed everything she’d ever known?

  Suddenly, the question was not about Gabriel, not anymore.

  Was I capable of those things?

  I flexed my hands above the sheets, staring at the dark ceiling. I’d flown off the handle a few times in my life that I could remember. I was prone to rash decisions that some might call stupid. Going after Raphael after Crixis killed Koath was one of them. I swore to myself, in that moment, that I wouldn’t leave the church until one of us was dead.

  I was capable. I had to be, just like Gabriel was. Raphael had turned out to be a Daywalker in the other world, just like John was, and they were both like that here. Some realities were always self-evident. I liked to think I wasn’t like the other me, but maybe I was. Maybe I was just like her.

  Maybe all it would take for me to become her was to lose the one most important person left in my life…

  No.

  I couldn’t let those thoughts continue.

  By the time morning came, and I once again refused to visit Gabriel, Claire was already over and I was energized. I was ready to whip through the rest of the anthologies and discover what left the kid in the locker. Once I knew what it was, I could make a plan to fight it. Not just punch, kick, dodge and stab—no, I had a feeling the Demon was too powerful for that. It needed to be purified in a special way.

  Every Demon had its weaknesses, it just took some work to find out what they were.

  Whatever kind of Demon it was, it had to be powerful, to fly under the radar while leaving ghastly bodies like that.

  It was that night—or morning, depending on how you keep track of time—when I finally decided what I had to do. I wasn’t happy or thrilled about it. In fact, I was rather pissed off about it, but if sucking it up and pretending I was okay with it meant that the Demon leaving bodies in the school would fall to my sword, I’d do it. I was that big of a person.

  And if it meant I got to beat the Demon up, well, I’d just enjoy it more.

  I hopped out of bed before my clock hit four A.M., and I put on some jeans and a T-shirt. I threw my hair up in a messy bun and tiptoed down the stairs. Liz was asleep in Michael’s room, and Max was on the couch, even though there were other guest rooms he could use. The weirdo.

  I slipped out of the front door with no one the wiser, marched down the driveway and straight across the street. I went up to an equally as imposing and humongous house, my hands curled into fists. Lifting my right hand, I sighed before punching the doorbell.

  Almost instantly, almost as if he’d been standing there expecting me, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Crixis pulled open the door, gave me a deceiving smile, and said, “I’ve been waiting for you, Kass.”

  I breathed in slowly, meeting his handsome gaze, the same gaze that snickered at me over the corpse of my dad. The same green eyes that I watched turn from beloved warrior father to Sephira’s lapdog. He’s been behind so many plots in recent times, trying to kill me, wanting to watch me suffer just for the fun of it…and yet, still, in spite of it all, there was still something about him that I was drawn to.

  Maybe, deep down, way deep down, we were similar. The events in his life twisted him to become the monster that he was, while he played puppeteer to my life and did the same to me. I didn’t think I was a monster.

  But I could become one.

  I tried thinking of a comeback, of something witty to say, and my mind came up with nothing, so I said, “Hold still.” And then I punched him, right in the face, square on the nose, as hard and as fast as I could, given the time.

  Crixis took it like a man, his head rocking back with the impact. “I will give you that one, and that one alone. Next time you hit me…you better watch out.” He sniffed, refusing to let his nose bleed. “And, now that you’re here, I do have to mention that you shouldn’t go shouting and beating me up. You’ll wake Maurice.”

  “Maurice?” I repeated, confused.

  “Yes. You don’t think I started wearing these clothes for the fun of it?” He gestured to his ensemble of khakis and button-up shirt with the pattern of a palm tree. Even in the darkness of the early morning, it was a bright, ugly orange. “When I wear them, he believes I’m his son—who I’m reasonably certain died of cancer five years ago. Alzheimer’s. Helpful, for once.”

  One, I couldn’t believe he was joking about Alzheimer’s.

  Two, I couldn’t believe he didn’t kill the old man that lived in the house.

  Three…why did he care whether or not Maurice thought he was his son? Since when did the Demon care about anyone’s feelings?

  Four, he let Maurice live, but he had to kill Koath?

  My hands shook. Why did I think I could do this? Without another word, I walked away.

  Crixis and I weren’t alike. I’d never torture someone just for kicks.

  I wasn’t a monster, and as long as I had my sanity, I would never become one.

  Chapter Nine – Crixis

  Humans were always acting weird when abnormal things were happening to them. Big life changes—like death, moving, a new job, a new kid—those were the biggies. I couldn’t help but wonder what had Kass’s attitude twisted so much. I might’ve killed that irritating Koath, and meddled in her purifying job quite a lot, but to walk over here in the middle of the night like she owned the place and punch me?

  That took guts. Guts, and a reason.

  My eyes were glued to the window above the sink the next morning, watching. Michael’s car hadn’t been there in a few days. The Councilwoman was there, though, with that pathetic excuse for a Purifier. Was that what the Council trained these days? Short, squirrelly boys? I felt somewhat insulted that their group had outdone me on so many occasions.

  Either they were more than they appeared to be, or my plans were not nearly as well laid-out as they should’ve been.

  I heard the ding of the waffle maker, and went to take out the waffles, lathering low-fat butter on them. As I cut them into tiny, manageable bite-size squares, I watched the Councilwoman and the red-headed Purifier go into her car. It was too late for school; already nine o’clock. Where were they going without Kass? And where was Michael and the other one?

  As my inhuman hearing heard her car start up, I turned and set the plate on the table, in front of Maurice. An old man of over eighty, it was quite the coincidence that he had his own house still. But he could walk and walk; he was very physically able, though frail as he was. He liked to wear golfing polos and tan pants, though he never went golfing. He hardly ever left the house.

  His dentures nearly slipped from his mouth as he licked his lips in anticipation for the waffles. I was already at the front door, flinging it open, when he asked, “Where you going to in such a rush, David?”

  David. His son’s name.

  “I have an errand to run. I’ll be right back. Eat your breakfast.” And w
ith that, I trailed the car throughout the city, moving faster than any human eye could comprehend. The Councilwoman’s vehicle led to a rather unexpected destination: the local hospital. It wasn’t so much local as it was two town’s over, but it was the nearest one. It even had a helicopter.

  Now that was one thing I hadn’t tried in my very long life…

  The Councilwoman and the Purifier parked and entered the hospital through its main entrance. I was a shadow, a fly on the wall, moving through the halls, stalking their direction. They got on the elevator and went to the third floor. All the hallways looked the same; off-white, ugly pictures of flowers hanging every few feet. I hated hospitals. They could be a place for science, but the only thing I smelled was death and the chemicals the cleaners used to try to cover up the germs and stench.

  They met with Michael inside a room, and I mentally noted the room number before finding a nurse and pulling her aside. A pretty girl. Plain. No older than thirty. My kind of girl. The ones who were like models, the ones who could cause a traffic jam by walking across the street—they reminded me far too much of Sephira. There was beauty in mediocrity.

  My eyes locked on hers, and my voice flowed out, a tone no one could deny, “Who is in room 305-A?”

  The nurse struggled a bit, knowing she shouldn’t answer, but my compulsion won out in seconds, as it always did. She ran a hand through her brown hair as she said, “Gabriel Stanton.”

  Stanton? I did my best not to laugh.

  “And what is wrong with Mr. Stanton?” I said with a smirk.

  “Came in a few days ago unresponsive. He’s been in a coma since.”

  Ah.

  “Forget you saw me,” I commanded, and the nurse blinked, shook her head, and walked away without so much as another glance in my direction. I waited around, for nearly an hour until the Councilwoman and the Purifier—Max, I thought I heard them say—convince Michael to leave Gabriel’s side and go with them to the cafeteria.

  I hid around a corner as they left the room, peeking to see that Michael looked awful.

  I couldn’t help but smile to myself at his misery as I flashed into the room, behind the curtain. Surprisingly, Gabriel had the room to himself. Himself and the machines that fed his body liquid and nutrients, and the machine that ran under the bed for another purpose.

  He was pale, frozen. He looked worse than Michael. Stubble grew on his face, his hair was dirty. As I studied him, I wondered why Kass didn’t come. Perhaps she couldn’t take it, after everything I’d done to her.

  I examined the tattoos that ran along every part of his exposed body. Thin, intricate lines. Delicate, almost. Strange, in the way that no tattoo artist’s lines could be that straight.

  His vitals were steady, and my eyebrows creased. I saw what happened to him after Sephira snapped Kass’s neck. I saw the change that overtook him. This boy was no mere boy. He was able to purify an Original, somehow, and live to tell the tale.

  And yet…here he was, unresponsive, lying there, so helpless. A part of me wondered how this had happened, but the larger part—the much larger part—didn’t care. I wanted to kill him, kill him so that I could be free of whatever obligation I felt. I did not like feeling responsible or obligated. For anything.

  If I could kill him, then I could kill Kass. No strings. No long wind-about ways. Just a quick grab of her heart, and there’d be no way she’d be rising from the dead.

  I hoped.

  I looked at his face, decision made, and suddenly a ringing pain echoed in my head. Even Vexillion was in agony. An image of Gabriel on the bed popped in my head, but instead of his eyes being closed, they were open, and they were pure black, their depths showing nothing but death. Every nerve in my body felt like it was being stabbed, and I managed to open my eyes and glance to the boy on the bed.

  He was still, as he was before. His eyes weren’t open.

  But the pain—it was something I’d never experienced before. Something I hadn’t thought possible. It wasn’t like I was immune to pain. I’d felt so much of it throughout the years that I’d grown accustomed to most of it. This? This was worse. This was…torture.

  I put a hand on my head and flashed out of the hospital, collapsing on the grass in the parking lot. I didn’t care who saw me. I fell to my knees and willed the pain to vanish. I wanted to be sick. I wanted to scream. I wanted, like usual, to kill something.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d thought about harming him. A few years back, I’d knocked him out with a single blow in a crypt. I didn’t feel like this, then. But that was before he awakened, before he nearly lost his precious girl.

  Gabriel, I realized, was something worse than Vexillion, who I only welcomed inside of me because I had to overpower and defeat Sephira. Gabriel did what I could not, therefore it was only logical that he could also do what the Council and the first Purifier could not do.

  Kill me.

  The thought chilled me to the bone, even after the pain in my body subsided. Never had I believed myself to be killable. I always thought I’d live until the end of days, when mankind killed itself and the world.

  I stood.

  I wasn’t going to run. I didn’t run from Sephira, and I wouldn’t run from him.

  I would stay. I’d stay and take care of my blasted obligation to Kass. Maybe, when he woke, Gabriel would let me be. Maybe he’d let me go if I helped keep his girl safe while he was out.

  Or maybe not.

  The world was rid of Sephira, only to welcome…whatever the hell he was.

  Chapter Ten – Kass

  Claire sat upstairs, going through the last few anthologies, as I made us pizza rolls in the oven. It wasn’t a first-class meal, but it was the best I could do with the limited amount of groceries we had. Learning to cook was never really on the list of things to-do. Seemed like a waste of time when there were new weapon techniques to learn.

  A knock on the door shook me from my concentration, and I went to window to see who it was, first. Son of a—I flew to the door, a scary look on my face, throwing it open as I practically growled out, “What are you doing here?”

  He thought he could just waltz over here, when no one else was home, when Claire was here, and I’d be fine with it? Crixis had another thing coming. And that thing was my fist. It curled as it rested on my hip.

  “I did not treat you as poorly when you showed up at my door in the middle of the night,” Crixis chirped, giving me a smile that, if I didn’t know how murderous he was, I would’ve called cute.

  “It’s not your door. It’s not your house. You aren’t my neighbor,” I said, the hand holding onto the open door digging into its wood. I felt like I could snap the thing in two. Just seeing his face got me upset. Why did I think it was a good idea to go to him? There was far too much between us. Too much death and blood. “Leave.” I went to close the door, but his hand reached out and stopped me from slamming it.

  “Well, Maurice is happy to have me, just as you should be, since your boyfriend is in a coma. Who knows what kind of supernatural will come sniffing around you while he’s not here to protect you?”

  There were so many things wrong with what he just said.

  “I doubt that. You compelled an old man to live with him. That’s low.” I wanted to stamp my foot and declare that Gabriel was not my boyfriend—nor would he ever be—but it seemed a little childish, and I doubted it would prove anything to the Daywalker before me. Plus, how did he know about the coma?

  My face must’ve given it away, for he carried on, “Ah, you’re probably wondering how I know. I do have some sleuthing skills. I’ve been alive long enough to master some things.” Crixis sniffed the air. “Ooh, the Morpher is here. She’d love to see me again, wouldn’t she? Perhaps I should come in and say hello—”

  “Over my dead body are you coming in this house, jerkoff.”

  “Did you look at that book I gave you?”

  I shot my death glare at him. “Leave.”

  Crixis let out an exasper
ated sigh. “You really should look at it. Anyway, I suppose I will go, but you should come with me. Send your Morpher friend home and head over whenever you’re ready to start.” He waved and walked off.

  My eyes followed him down the driveway, watching as he walked strong and tall, as if he hadn’t a worry in the world. Like he was a good, proud man. Lies. He was one of the worst around, if not the worst.

  I hated him. I hated him with all my heart.

  Maybe that was why pounding him with my fists seemed like a fun thing to do.

  But…no. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t give into the anger inside of me. Purify, forget and forgive, right? Be happy to be alive. Be willing to put my life on the line at any given moment for any given civilian. The Council’s instructions never rang so hollow to me before.

  I heaved a sigh and closed the door, locking it. Just then, the oven timer dinged, and I put all the pizza rolls on a single plate, took two bottles of water from the fridge, and ran up the steps. I found Claire nose-deep in a book. When I got closer, I found it wasn’t that old of a book, for it was written in English. And not that old timey English, either.

  “Morphers are thought to be the cause of the werewolf myth,” she read straight from the book. “Wolves are the most common form, but they are not limited to a single species. There have been documented incidences of tigers and other large felines.” Claire’s face twisted. “Ew. Even snakes. A human-sized snake? God, no.”

  I thought about it myself, and it wasn’t a pretty picture.

  “Most were nomads, run from their homes as civilization took root in the modern world. Those that survived the transition are believed to remain in Morpher packs, though they seek integration with human society and act as though they are, indeed, human.” Claire’s eyes rose to me as she shut the book. “I never knew…I mean, I guess it makes sense, because of what I am, but—I’m not human? That’s a weird thought.”

  I set the plate between us and hand her a bottle. “At the rate we’re going, no one in this house is human.” I meant it as a joke, but she took it seriously.