The Order (Nightwalkers Book 8)

by Candace Wondrak

  Was this all my fault?

  My eyes were slits as they opened slightly, staring at the water below. I felt no urge to keep living. Drowning seemed an easier way to go, instead of heartbreak, death by disappointment and loneliness. The cold truth was I didn’t want to live without Gabriel. He was my strength. I was nothing on my own.

  I was just Kassandra Niles. Whoop-de-do.

  A bright white light enveloped me, shielding my eyes from the view of the river below. I struggled to get to my feet, holding a hand between my eyes and what I thought was the sunrise. But it wasn’t the sunrise. The warmth I felt at that moment was not because of the sun above England.

  It was because Gabriel stood before me, floating on the other side of the railing, giving me the world’s saddest smile.

  “Kass,” he spoke, his voice warming me, flooding through me. “You’re not a cute crier.”

  Even as more tears fell from my eyes, I found myself chuckling. “I hate you,” I whispered. I didn’t care if people walked by and saw me talking to myself. I didn’t care one single bit.

  “I love you, too,” Gabriel replied. The air around him shimmered, the area behind him pure white. I couldn’t even see past him. All I saw was Gabriel in his full glory, wearing a white robe that looked ridiculous on him. “Ask me. I don’t have much time here.”

  Right. Just like my mother, he had to leave me, because he wasn’t alive anymore. He was dead. Who cared if he was an Angel? He was still gone, and I was still here, alone.

  I could only think of one question to ask him, a question that encompassed everything I felt in that moment: “Why?”

  “Because I had to,” Gabriel said, dimples deep in his cheeks. “Because I love you and I want you to have a long, full life. Because I knew that, if you knew what I had to do, you’d stop me, and I would be too weak to tell you no. And, of course, because every story needs a hero. For once, it was my turn.”

  “I don’t believe you. There had to be another way—”

  “There wasn’t. Trust me, Kass, I didn’t want to leave you, not after we finally—” Gabriel’s hand stretched to my face, but he was not substantial. His fingers did not touch my cheek. He was less real, less tangible than my mother was when she appeared to me. “I’m sorry it had to end like this.” His hand fell back to his side.

  How badly I wished that touch could’ve been real, that I could’ve felt him one, last time. That we could’ve kissed again, and I could’ve felt his stubble on my chin. What I would give to hold him, to have him hold me, to bury my face in his wide, strong chest and block out the world.

  “If there was another way to stop the Order, I would’ve been all over it like stank on you after a five-mile run.” Gabriel chuckled, but I only stared at him. Even at a time like this, he wasted precious moments making fun of me.

  It didn’t make me feel better, because I knew it would be the last time he’d make fun of me. He’d never do it again, because the longer we stood there talking, the more he started to look like little, tiny light particles, barely holding together a shape.

  Shaking my head once, I whispered, “I don’t think I can live without you.” The truth, too. It hurt too much coming out to be a lie.

  “You have to. You don’t have the luxury of giving up. There’s still bad guys to fight, crappy shows to watch, and people who need you.” His blue gaze fell. “You have to keep going. Do it for me, for us.”

  That wasn’t fair. How could he ask me to keep going for him and for us when there was no more him or us? We were over before we even started.

  “We didn’t have enough time,” I muttered, sniffing. “It’s not fair. I don’t want you to go.”

  “I know it’s not fair, and I know we didn’t have enough time. I don’t think it’s ever enough time.” His image was barely there before me now, and with each spoken word, he continued to fade, “Just know that I love you, I’ve always loved you, and even if you can’t see me, I’m always with you. Take care of…” Whatever he meant to say, he couldn’t, because he was suddenly gone.

  I stood there, alone, more tears welling. Were his words supposed to be comforting? Was this encounter supposed to put me at ease, help me transition to a life without Gabriel? It was one thing when he was in a coma after Michael poisoned him, but another thing to know he was never coming back to me.

  Ever.

  I was utterly alone in this world now. I had no one.

  Gripping the railing, I still wanted to fling myself over. A life without Gabriel was no life at all. It was a life I didn’t want, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

  “If you do that,” a low voice spoke next to me, “who will help Liz with the baby? Certainly not me. I like children, but Michael’s child? That one might be hard to abide.” Crixis stood tall, though nowhere near as tall as Gabriel.

  Wait. I blinked through my tears. “Liz is pregnant…with Michael’s baby?” The revelation was almost enough to draw my attention away from Gabriel and the bridge.

  “She is, and judging from her reaction, it’ll be something to see.” He did not offer me a hand, but he did gesture away from the bridge. He wanted to take me away from this area, to somewhere I could not make a bad decision.

  I didn’t want to live without Gabriel. I didn’t want a world where Crixis was the voice of reason. But, if there was one thing I’d learned in all my life, especially recently, it’s that you didn’t always get what you wanted. Sometimes, you didn’t even get what you needed. Life threw you curveball after curveball, and all you could do was go with the flow.

  A terrible analogy to equate with losing Gabriel, but it was one I knew would’ve made him smile.

  I would live this life without him because I had no choice. I would walk the roads of life by myself, without my chosen partner, because there was no other way. If there was, I would’ve taken it. But when it came down to it, it was just me.

  Me against the world.

  It took weeks to get everything situated, for the Purifiers to find new homes. Some had to go back into the system, because some were only fifteen. The ones who were older were able to get jobs with Liz’s and Ames’s help and share apartments with each other. Most returned to their home countries, some stayed in England. We didn’t force them to do anything they didn’t want to do. I’d had enough of people doing that to me; I knew how awful it was.

  We returned to the United States after making sure everything was calm in London. No Order members which were going to follow us. And Liz went to her doctor and confirmed she was pregnant. I told her I’d help with the baby, not that I knew much about babies in general, because I was never around them much.

  She nearly cried when I told her that.

  Max and Claire started dating, holding hands and even kissing in public. It was a strange sight, almost as strange as the way Crixis played house with us. After Maurice died, he fully moved in across the street, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t spend a lot of time over there, pretending to ignore the way Liz was decorating Gabriel’s room for the baby.

  This was our life, and our future was uncertain.

  Epilogue - Kass

  I was up early the next morning, and after stretching, I threw on some comfy athletic clothes and went on a run. My tennis shoes were dirty and holey, but I didn’t care. I hardly wore them. My job as a banker did not involve tennis shoes. The only reason I was able to go out on a run so early in the morning was because today was a holiday. We’d see fireworks tonight.

  I took my normal route through town, circling the lake in the park while checking the time on my wrist. Still a watch-lover, after all these years. I did have a cell phone now, though I hardly ever used it. Seemed like a mini-computer that could just break way too easily. Lily loved them, though. Her tablets and her apps and all that. She was definitely a kid of this century.

  Thinking of which, I hoped Liz woke her up. She had to clean the house before the guests arrived. I’d find out soon enough, I supposed as I started the jog back
to the house.

  I went in through the front door, slipping out of my shoes and wriggling out of my shirt, wearing nothing but my shorts and a training bra as I went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. As I closed it, I heard a teenage groan.

  “Put the shirt back on. Nobody here wants to see that.”

  I chuckled, turning to face the boy bent over the table with a dust rag in his hands. Ethan wore a flimsy shirt and cargo shorts. His dark hair was swept to the side, his stare mirroring Michael’s. Sometimes it hurt, the similarities between them. Of course, Michael never had a southern accent, and he never would’ve whined quite like that.

  My body might not have been in the shape it once was, but it was nowhere near as disgusting as he made it out to be. Teenagers. So annoying. “Oh, looks like you missed a spot,” I teased, whacking him with my shirt as I walked by.

  He’d probably tell his mother on me.

  In the living room, I found Liz and her other son, Ben. Unlike Ethan, Ben took after his mother in his looks: lighter hair, lighter eyes. A kinder all-around expression. Ben was vacuuming while Liz ran a feather duster on the mantle. I dropped my shirt on the couch, one hand on my hip as my gaze narrowed.

  Liz spun to me, shallow wrinkles around her eyes. Before she could speak, I said, “I told Lily to do that.”

  “Oh,” Liz whispered. She looked as though she wanted to say something, but she remained silent, like she was afraid to tattle. For someone who was a mother to a set of fraternal twins, she sure didn’t act very motherly. She wanted to be their friends.

  I, on the other hand, had no reservations about whooping some ass.

  Ben started, never the one to lie, “Lily’s upstairs, with—”

  That’s all I had to hear. I ran up the steps to the third floor, slowing when I got closer to the closed door. That girl. I told her never to close her door, especially when she had company over. That went double when the company was someone with whom I shared a troubled history with.

  Lily’s feminine voice seeped under the crack, “Ooh, what is it?”

  A deep voice spoke back, “A sphinx, made of lapis lazuli. I tried to find you one in ivory, but ivory is harder to find now, with all the anti-poaching.”

  I frowned to myself. I’d wait a little longer, see if I could catch them doing something they shouldn’t. Okay, maybe I wasn’t the best mother either, but I was only thirty-four. Not nearly old enough to have a seventeen-year-old daughter.

  A seventeen-year-old daughter that was way too young for him.

  “I love it,” Lily said, her voice a bare whisper. She’d already perfected the come-hither voice, apparently. “Thank you.”

  The masculine voice muttered a quiet, “You’re welcome, Flower.”

  Flower. His pet name for her. Ugh. How many times had I told him not to call her that? It gave her a false sense of security. He was not the type of man I wanted around my daughter. He was a man, for God’s sake, not a boy. Shouldn’t she have her sight set on boys her age, not the old and murderous ones?

  I heard the bed creak, and my patience snapped. I barged in, ready to yell. The only thing I was able to see was Lily leaning on him, her arms around his neck, and his hands hugging her back. Too friendly. Instead of yelling, I coughed. Surely, at least, the Daywalker heard me.

  Lily was slow to pull back, blinking those wide, big, innocent blue eyes at me. Her golden hair was curled, falling halfway down her back. She had my nose, my mouth, and my body shape, but beyond that, she was Gabriel’s girl through and through.

  “Mom,” she hissed, sending me an irritated expression. She did not move completely off him.

  “What did I tell you about closing this door?” I demanded, watching as she was slow to get off him, clutching her present, and shrug. Her pants, I noticed, were far too tight. She needed a few sizes baggier.

  With a dramatic sigh, she set the palm-sized sphinx on her nightstand, so it would watch over her when she slept. “It’s just Crixis, Mom.” She rolled her eyes, like that was that.

  Just Crixis.

  If only she knew there was never such a thing as just Crixis.

  I drew my gaze to Crixis, who sat on the bed, acting innocent, as if his filthy hands weren’t just on my daughter. Tilting my head, I said, “Lily, would you give Just Crixis and I some time alone?”

  She groaned at the mom joke. “But this is my room—”

  “Now,” I ordered, and I watched her leave, quickly darting my eyes to Crixis to see if he watched her leave, too. This was not something I thought I’d have to deal with. Never. Lily and Crixis? Could never happen, would only happen over my dead body.

  Once we waited a moment, I asked, “Is she standing in the hallway listening?”

  Crixis smirked—the same half-grin I still loathed to this day, all these years later. “No. She went down the stairs. It is just you and me, Purifier.”

  I shot him a glare. “Shut up. I told you not to call her Flower, and never to be alone with her.”

  Standing, Crixis’s shoulders slumped. His Middle-Eastern tan was rejuvenated after his latest trip. With his black hair cut short and his bright hazel eyes, he was handsome—but still too old and murderous for my daughter.

  “What?” he acted offended. “After all these years, don’t you trust me?”

  “Not with her,” I said, although that was partially a lie. In truth, he’d never done anything bad to us again, ever since we lost Gabriel. “Not like that.”

  “I would not dare to cross you or Lily. I remember what happens.” Crixis glanced to the open door. “She likes it when I call her Flower.” He sounded…almost wistful. It was disgusting. “If there is anyone you should have a talk with, it’s her. She is the instigator. For once, it’s not me.”

  I eyed him up. He might be truthful, but he also hid part of the truth, too. Lily might be the instigator, but Crixis did nothing to stop her. That had to change. I would not let them…ugh, I couldn’t even think it. It was too painful, too gross to put words to.

  “If you—” My words were cut off by Crixis.

  “Max and Claire are here, and, goody, they brought their Morpher cub.” He offered me his arm. “Shall we head downstairs to greet them?”

  Over my dead body would I walk downstairs, arm-in-arm with Crixis. He might have Lily’s infatuation, but he did not have mine. He never did, the murderous psychopath. I spun on my heel, furious. I’d have to have a separate talk with Lily about this. She was too young to go playing around with killers.

  Hell hath no fury like a mother scorned.