The Nightwalkers Saga: Books 1 - 7

by Candace Wondrak

  My eyes darted to Claire, who was doing her best not to listen to the raving lunatic we were currently at the mercy of. “No,” I finally said, making my choice. “I wouldn’t.” In reality, I made my choice a long time ago.

  The jury was still out on John. But Rain? No. Alyssa? Nope. Claire and Steven? A definite no.

  “Wow,” the Skinwalker mocked me, his fingers loosening their hold on my scalp. “A modern Purifier. Never seen that before—oh, hold on a minute. I have, and do you know what always happens to them?”

  I closed my eyes, gathering my strength. “I’m guessing,” I coughed out, “the same thing that happens to every other Purifier.”

  Seth’s laughter filled my ears. “Yes, yes, mankind and their obsession with death. You would die regardless of whether or not you were a Purifier.” He must have leaned down, for I felt his lips on my ear as he whispered, “When the Council learns of a rogue Purifier, they send their own Agent to take care of it…and do you know how they take care of it? Do you know what happens to the Purifiers who cross the Council?”

  Behind my closed eyelids, I already had a nagging suspicion.

  “They have them killed. Tossed out like garbage. Buried in unmarked graves. I’ve seen it happen.” The Skinwalker released my hair, moving back to the table and retrieving the scalpel once more. This time, I had a feeling it wouldn’t put the blade down until it made a few cuts. “Your Council may act high and mighty, but it’s nothing more than men and women in suits who try to dictate what’s best for everyone else.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Kass,” Claire tried whispering, “I—I’m sure he’s lying.”

  I was glad she was so certain. I, on the other hand, was far from it. In fact, I was almost sure he wasn’t lying, because it made sense. The Council couldn’t have any rogue Purifiers wandering around the globe, spreading their secrets, could they? If there were rogue Purifiers, then the whole world’s population would probably know all about the Demons that pretended to be their neighbors.

  “No,” I said, watching as the Skinwalker stepped slowly, measuredly, toward me, scalpel in hand. “He’s not.” I ignored the expression Claire gave me, the one that asked why would you want to work for something like that?

  I don’t have a choice, Claire, I wanted to say. I was forced to, because my father worked for them. It’s a family business.

  Only…now it wasn’t.

  The Skinwalker spun the sharp edge of the scalpel on his finger, digging it into Seth’s skin. Clearly, it didn’t care about its current body. Mr. Skinwalker only had eyes for us, now. “Where, oh where should I make the first cut?” Beside me, it muttered an apologetic, “I’m sorry, but it’s been so long since I’ve had a Purifier on my table—or chair—let alone one that’s also a mystery supernatural. I do plan on taking my time, and making you pay for all the Demons you’ve purified in your lifetime.”

  The cool metal pressed against my cheekbone, drawing down, along my face, until there was a thin sliver of blood two inches long. I barely flinched, having been used to a great deal worse, which made it laugh. “What a brave face you wear. I can’t wait to cut it up.” I had a witty retort ready—and another coughing fit that might come with more blood—but I froze as I felt his tongue run alongside the cut, licking off all the blood that escaped from it. “You taste so good, Kass. What are you?”

  I looked into Seth’s eyes, adrenaline starting to pump through my veins with the new wound. Behind my back, my fists clenched. “Your worst nightmare,” I murmured, watching as the smug Skinwalker began to laugh heartily.

  Now or never, Kass.

  With my mini pep-talk in my head, and a slight throbbing on my cheek, I used the Skinwalker’s closeness to my advantage: the hardest headbutt I’d ever given. A headbutt so hard, so fast, that my world turned black for a split-second before my gaze refocused on the Skinwalker on the ground.

  I breathed in and out. It took me a few tries, a few back and forth motions, but soon I had tipped the chair forward, and I stood on my feet, knees bent, still attached to the chair. It felt like an old kitchen chair, rickety with years of use. It wouldn’t take much to break it.

  Please, let me at least save Claire, then it could do whatever it wanted with me.

  Heaving myself up with as much chutzpah as I could muster, given the circumstance, I pushed off the ground, jumping half as high as I could when I wasn’t restrained. But it was enough; I didn’t land straight back, I landed on an angle on the chair’s side, splintering it enough that the bottom collapsed. At least my legs were free.

  “I was not expecting that,” the Skinwalker said, getting up.

  But I was faster.

  With my legs stretched out, I ran to its side, body-slamming it with the side of the chair, and seriously hurting my arm in the process. Oh, well. I hurt almost everywhere else. What’s a little more pain?

  After it breathed in, and I realized how badly I misjudged how difficult it was to stand from this angle with no help from my arms, the Skinwalker threw me off him, landing me on the dirty, blood-soaked floor. Scalpel in hand, it leapt on top of me, pressing the sharp edge to my neck.

  “Now, now, you shouldn’t have done that,” it whispered, menacing, the metal more threatening than its words could ever be. “Now you made me mad, and you’re not going to like me when I’m mad.”

  “Well,” I coughed right into its face, “aren’t we just spitting out cliched line after cliched line?” My wrists felt like they were close to breaking behind me, under the chair, under Seth’s weight. I did the only thing I could think of to do: I kneed the Skinwalker in the groin.

  And, since he wore the flesh suit of a teenage boy, it hurt quite a bit.

  It hurt so much, actually, that the Skinwalker howled, rolling off me, dropping the scalpel. That was all I needed.

  My greedy, grubby, aching hands found the scalpel, and my fingers turned it around so that I could cut away at the zip tie holding my wrists together to the back of the chair. By the time the Skinwalker righted itself, I was finally free of every piece of the chair, save for the two zip ties on my ankles, which had easily slid off the bottom of the chair after I broke it.

  I held the scalpel out, saying, “Don’t come any closer.” I swayed, and for a moment, I saw two Skinwalkers in front of me. I blinked furiously, trying to see normally, trying to overcome the absolute exhaustion that came over me. I wanted to sleep and never wake up.

  Claire watched me with stunned, surprised eyes. “Kass, you have to kill it!”

  Thank you, Sherlock, I wanted to say, but I kept quiet, saving my energy for the Demon. How was I supposed to purify it when I felt so sick? How was I supposed to win this fight when, in order to do that, I had to catch the Skinwalker body suit-less?

  I had a feeling I was up a creek without a paddle here.

  “You,” the Skinwalker hissed, pausing as it lurched toward me. Seth’s handsome face twisted into a mixture of a sneer and confusion. “What did you do to me?” It set a hand on its stomach, its skin turning pale. “Your blood…tainted.” Its eyes held pure, unadulterated fury. “You poisoned me, you sick—” The next moment, it ran at me, but I was able to easily sidestep the attack, and the Skinwalker fell to the floor, curling into itself, shaking violently.

  Sharp, pointed tentacles seeped from every orifice of Seth’s body, growing in size and length until the flesh it wore tore, ripping under the pressure of something trying to get out. But it was too late.

  It was an ugly, hideous beast, a Demon straight from my nightmares. All tentacles and slime and blood. Its tentacles were lined with razor-sharp, mini-teeth, and as it tried to crawl out of the body, it dug into the tile. It must slowly absorb what it tore off, when it was inside someone. A disgusting parasite. Demons like this should be purified, I thought. Not ones like Claire.

  Soon enough, the Skinwalker slowed to a halt, and it didn’t move again, even as I nudged it with my shoe. Wiping the sweat off me, I knelt beside it, tugging the rest of it
out of Seth’s body, doing my best to pretend that this was all a dream, that I wasn’t kneeling beside an empty suit of flesh.

  Once the Skinwalker was completely out of Seth, I searched through its many tentacles, receiving dozens of tiny, indiscernible cuts on my hands, until I found the center. An asexual Demon whose brain and heart were a single organ, laying right in the middle of the mass of tentacles, where they joined haphazardly into a fleshy, red and pink blob.

  I didn’t hesitate, but I might’ve gone a little crazy.

  Over and over and over, I stabbed the center of the blob with the scalpel, until it was nothing but a gory mess. The Skinwalker looked dead before that, but I had to be sure. Letting this thing go was not on the menu.

  Almost in a daze, I went to Claire and freed her wrists, and then her legs. She quickly got to her feet, steadying me by holding onto my shoulders. When I met her eyes, I dropped the bloodied scalpel. “I’m taking you to the hospital,” she said, starting to drag me up the creepy stairs.

  “No,” I pulled back. “No. I just want to go home.”

  Go home, pass out, and die.

  Claire thought I was nuts. In a way—okay, in lots of ways—I was. But I was used to it by now. “Is…is there someone we should call about this?” she asked as we emerged into a dimly-lit house.

  The house was more like a shack. A small ranch, on some dead-end side street, its neighbors far apart. The perfect place for a killer Demon to make its home. We exited the house, and I saw long, overgrown grass and wondered how long this house had been vacant. Couldn’t have been too long, for the electricity was still on. Didn’t the city shut that off?

  “The Council,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw Claire’s car in the driveway. “I’ll have Michael call them. Hopefully he’s home and not at the hospital.” I went to the passenger’s side, finding that it wasn’t locked. If I didn’t sit down soon, I’d just pass out and fall over. As I crawled inside, I left the door open, in case I needed to throw up.

  Which, judging by the feeling in my stomach, might happen soon.

  Claire searched her car for the keys. They weren’t there, so she ran back in the house. I didn’t keep track of her, because it was at that moment when everything decided to come up. I bent to my right as I felt it hurling up my esophagus, emptying my stomach on the pebble driveway. My eyes, unfocused as they were, spotted blood among the bile.

  I was dying. For real, this time.

  I hurriedly wiped my mouth before Claire came back, keys in hand. I shut the door, thankful that she hadn’t seen the pile of puke beside her car, as she started it. “You sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital?”

  I shook my head. The mere action caused my headache from this morning to return, ten times the strength it was. Moving a hand to my head, I coughed, still feeling the gurgling in the back of my throat.

  “All right,” Claire said, though she didn’t sound so sure. “To your house.” She set it in reverse, and we got going. Along the way, she muttered, “I really hope we don’t get pulled over, because I don’t think I have my license, and you’re covered in blood.” Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m really no good under pressure. I don’t know how you and Max do it.”

  “Usually,” I whispered, “it’s not that bad.”

  “It’s not the first time I’ve almost seen you die. Though, truthfully, I am glad he liked you more than he liked me.” She threw me a side glance. “Are you sure you don’t want—”

  “Take me home.” My voice wasn’t as commanding as I wanted it to be. I sounded small, tired, and weary.

  Claire only nodded.

  And then she drove me home.

  Chapter Thirty – Michael

  I expected the call.

  But, still, somehow when my cell rang, I nearly jumped out of my skin. The number was a restricted one, and my thumb hovered over the green rectangle to answer it. I had wanted to wait until it was done to talk to her, but here she was, calling me. I still had time. I’d get it done.

  I answered it, “It’s done.” I didn’t want her to have the first word, because once she got started, she hardly ever stopped.

  She was already dead. It was only a matter of time until they found her body.

  Liz had called an hour ago, saying that Claire was missing and Kass went off to look for her. Neither girl had been seen since. The stupid girl was too weak to face off against something like a Skinwalker. The Skinwalker would win, if it hadn’t already, and either it would kill Kass and leave her body where a member of the Council could find it, or it would try to go inside of her. Either way, Kass would die, and my mission would be complete.

  “And Gabriel?” The voice on the other line was stern, but expectant. She didn’t question me, for she knew where my loyalty lied. I would never lie to the Order. Never.

  “Send a unit for transport. We have to take him to the compound.” I was alone in the house; my fake English accent gave way to a gruff, harsh tone with a penchant for hard R’s.

  “Just because you took care of the girl does not mean you’re off free yet, Mike. You better pray that our doctors can reverse the damage you did to him, otherwise, the New Age must wait until he is reborn again. If that happens, you can look forward to digging your own grave.” And she hung up, leaving me with images of a shovel and dirt.

  I did not want to dig my own grave. It did not sound pleasant.

  Sliding the phone into my back pocket, I ran a hand through my dark hair. I tore off my glasses—they weren’t real, anyway—and set them on the counter in the kitchen. I was in the middle of brewing some tea when I watched a vehicle pull up the driveway.

  Claire, of all people, got out of the driver’s side, scurrying to the passenger’s, where Kass sat, practically limp as a noodle. She wrapped her arm around Kass and started dragging her to the front door.

  I froze for only a moment, stunned that she was alive still. After finding out what was plaguing the school, I hoped the Skinwalker would take care of her. I prayed that it would kill her, for while I was fine with doing it with my own two hands, I did watch her grow up. I did care a little about her.

  I wasn’t completely heartless.

  Running to the front door, I threw it open just in time to let Claire and Kass inside. Kass had a cut on her cheek, blood dripping out of it. Both girls were bruised and dirty. Kass herself looked like death.

  It wouldn’t take much to finish the job from here, at least.

  I took Kass from Claire, lifting her up as I moved us to the living room, carefully laying her on the couch. She could barely keep her eyes open. Her mouth smelled horrid, like vomit. Playing the role of a caring father-figure, I asked Claire, “What happened? I got a call from Liz saying you both were missing.”

  “The Skinwalker had us. It’s in the empty house on Nobottom. Kass killed it. She said you’d call the Council.” Claire’s blue gaze was heavy on her friend. “She kept throwing up on our way here. I think we should take her to the hospital—”

  Needing to hear no more, I nodded along. “I will call the Council and alert them about Nobottom. They’ll send their own medics over to take care of Kass. Are you all right? Do you need medical attention?”

  She shook her head.

  “Good.” When I saw that she hesitated, that she wanted to stay at Kass’s side, I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and walked her to the door. “There’s a lot to do, Claire. Could you do me a favor though, if you’re up to it, and return to the school and inform Liz of what happened? That way she can start up the paperwork and stop wasting manpower at the school.” I gripped the door handle, opening it for her.

  “Okay. And then I’ll come right back,” she insisted, hurrying to her car.

  I watched her go with a frown, waiting until she was down the driveway and out of my sight before muttering, “Of course you will.” The Morpher didn’t know when she wasn’t needed. A pain.

  Closing the door quietly, I turned my head to view Ka
ss’s unmoving head.

  This was it.

  I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I went up the stairs, to my room. Inside my closet, on the floor in the wooden chest marked with the Order’s symbol, lay a dagger that had been gifted to me when I joined. Its hilt was decorated with the same red cross, the rest of it plain. The key was hidden in the underside of my nightstand, and within the minute, I retrieved the sheathed dagger, jerking the leather off the shiny, steel blade. Straightening, I exited my room and headed down the stairs.

  Kass had sat up sometime while I was gone, though her eyes were still closed. I stepped into the living room.

  “Michael?” she said, sounding awful. Her voice was thick with the blood that filled her lungs. “How soon are they getting here? I don’t…feel…” She couldn’t finish.

  I stood near her, behind the couch, staring intently at her neck. Even if she happened to open her eyes, she wouldn’t be strong enough to stop me. She wouldn’t react in time. I said, a lie bigger than any I ever told, “Everything will be all right, Kass.”

  I raised the dagger.

  Chapter Thirty-One – Gabriel

  We stood outside the house, a place I knew my old self had been many times before. With everything that I knew now, I wasn’t sure if it would ever feel the same again. I knew I’d never look at things the same.

  The other me didn’t seem as annoying as I used to think he was. His blue stare leveled with me as he asked, “You understand what must be done?”

  I nodded. I wasn’t stupid.

  “Then say it with me,” he said, and I joined in with him, “let her die.”

  Yes, because Kassie’s death meant more than her life did. I would be whole again after she died. I would be strong, the strongest, with power unmatched.

  “Say it alone.”