The Nightwalkers Saga: Books 1 - 7

by Candace Wondrak

  My will hardened, but my actions may have appeared differently. I flipped in the other direction and ran as fast as my lungs would take me, hopefully giving Gabriel enough time to catch his breath, pick up my rose blade, and ready himself.

  Because I was running in one giant circle. Not accidentally, either. I was purposefully running in one big loop because I knew that we couldn’t flee from this thing. We needed to purify it, now. Before it hurt anyone else.

  By the time I concluded my circle Gabriel stood firm with both hands on the hilt. I ran around him as he lunged toward the Demon. The poor beast didn’t have enough time to skid to a halt, so it just kept running.

  Gabriel adeptly dodged the drooling mouth and kneeled as it ran over him. He twisted the sword upward and, before the Demon was completely away from him, drove it straight into its heaving stomach. Rolling out of the way, he avoided being crushed by the collapsing Demon.

  I warily made my way to it, asking, “Is it dead?” I extended my foot and touched its back, causing it to jerk once. But it didn’t get back up.

  “Um,” Gabriel wiped his sweaty forehead, “This is a bit of a stretch, but I’m going to say that it is not dead.”

  He jumped over its body and wrenched the sword out, triggering more jerks and shudders from its three legs. Gabriel unhurriedly made his way to its head and, without another word or hint of any emotion beside rage, pushed my rose blade cleanly through its brain, slaying it instantly. “But now it is.”

  I shouldn’t say cleanly, because after impaling it, a colossal burst of darkened blood sprayed all over his face. And if I wasn’t so concerned I would have totally laughed. But my freak-o-meter was the highest it’d been in a long time, at least since the football game.

  An outrageous grin spread across his bloodied face. “That was unexpected. And startling. I hope this stuff comes off.” Gabriel smiled a white smile, a stark contrast to the blood covering him.

  I huddled by him as the Demon burst into flames, leaving not a trace, just like Nightwalkers. Despite its shocking appearance, this thing had more in common with Nightwalkers than any other Demon I could think of.

  “Wow,” Gabriel was awestruck for about one second. “That was incredibly convenient.”

  “Yeah, it was,” I agreed. My eyes located the guy who laid face down in the flowery field. A large pool of blood surrounded him. Were we too late? I ran over to him and gently spun his fragile body around.

  “Oh, no,” I managed to say. It was the guy I met at the park. The guy I ran into, actually.

  Gabriel kneeled next to me and breathed out “Thank God.”

  My head flipped and my eyes glared at him. “What do you mean, thank God? He’s badly hurt, unconscious…how can you say thank God?”

  “I just meant that I’m glad it’s no one we know.”

  “He’s still a person.”

  “Yeah…but—”

  “Oh, can it and pick him up,” I ordered him.

  His chest huffed and puffed in protest. “I can’t carry him. I can carry you, but not him. I’m not Superman.”

  “We need to take him to the hospital, Gabriel.”

  An incredulous look crossed his bloody face. “A hospital? Are you on drugs? We can’t take him to a hospital. They’re going to ask what happened, and how are we going to explain that?” Gabriel gestured to his wounded front.

  My mouth dropped open to respond, but I could think of absolutely nothing to say.

  “That’s what I thought,” Gabriel said. “We have to take him with us.”

  “With us where?”

  Our eyes met as he finished, “Home.”

  Turned out, lugging someone to our house, without a car and with no one else participating besides Gabriel and I, was very difficult. This guy was practically as tall as Gabriel, and add onto that the weight from his muscles, he probably weighed more than Gabriel.

  “Get the door,” Gabriel told me as he strained under the load.

  I hurried to the door, giving him the full burden of carrying the man into our house. Michael appeared instantly, frowning deeply. His face was worried. And mad. “Where the bloody hell have you been? I was worried sick.”

  “You shouldn’t be worrying so much. We can handle ourselves, you know,” I informed him as Gabriel set one foot inside the house.

  Michael let loose an explosive sigh and, rubbing the bridge of his nose, said, “Yes. You can, but I fear that your stupidity might one day get you both killed.”

  “Oh, I don’t think you have to fear that,” Gabriel breathed out, coming into Michael’s vision fully. “Though you’re welcome to fear that an enormous, three-legged dog with eight eyes might kill us.”

  Sarcasm, really? I glared at him. In a time like this? Was it really necessary? The answer was no, but Gabriel felt compelled to bring it into the conversation anyway. A conversation without sarcasm would be a conversation without Gabriel. And without me, because I’m also a frequent sarcasm-spitting machine.

  “What…how…who is that? And why is he here, bleeding, in our house?” Michael demanded.

  “Just help him. We’ll explain after,” Gabriel stumbled with the heaviness for a moment, “Scout’s promise.”

  Michael rushed to support the unconscious man, since Gabriel clearly had enough. “You were never in the Boy Scouts.”

  “Well.” He and Michael guided the man to the living room floor, setting him down carefully. “That’s definitely news to me.” I rose an eyebrow at his foolishness. “Then what was I in? I’m sure it was something like the Boy Scouts…”

  “If this man wasn’t so large I would set him in the tub…but I don’t think he’ll fit.” Michael pulled the rugs away from the man, just in case some blood seeped from his body and traveled to them. And since he was bleeding badly, I would say that’s a certain possibility. But now the rugs were on the other side of the room, so that blood would have to go pretty far to stain them.

  “What was I in?” Gabriel prodded Michael, even though now was not the time to do so.

  “Do you really have to do this now, Gabriel? You are aware that there is a bleeding man laying unconscious on our living room floor?”

  “Ah, he can wait. I’m sure a few more seconds won’t kill him—wait…no, maybe it would.” Gabriel rubbed his chin, pondering it. What a weirdo.

  “You were never in the Boy Scouts or the Cub Scouts. You were never in anything. The only thing you pretended to be was a…I believe you called it, a Pokémon master?” Michael looked astounded that Gabriel was insisting on doing this now.

  “Oh, yeah. I had to catch them all. And I did. And then I caught more and sold them to Team Rocket. I’m not going to lie, I did turn to the dark side. Though, now that I think back on it…the dark side seems more bully-in-the-playground kind of dark than I’m-a-mass-murdering-killer-who-wants-to-rip-out-your-throat-and-laugh kind of dark. It’s funny how things change with time,” Gabriel rambled on and on, showing no signs of stopping.

  Michael sternly said, “Shut it and get some towels. Preferably not the ones we use on a daily basis.” He ran up the stairs.

  Before running up after him, Gabriel yelled, “Right. Because when you say get towels for the bloody guy, I’m naturally going to think our shower towels…that is what I thought,” he turned his attention to me quickly, “but that’s not the point.”

  I watched him go and glimpsed back down to the man, the one I ran into, bleeding to death. What a strange coincidence. Not a good coincidence, either. When in my life were coincidences ever good?

  God, I hoped he didn’t die right here, in our living room. What would we do? Would the Council take care of it, like they did with the old school principal and secretary? Could they take care of it?

  Who was I kidding? The Council could take care of pretty much anything.

  I set my rose blade on the coffee table, even though it was dripping in that doggy Demon’s blood. Getting blood on the wood was the least of my worries. Kneeling by the man, I took in
his appearance by the lamp light.

  This man was handsome. Cheek bones were high. Short brown hair gently ruffled and stained with red. The tips of it were curling over because of the dried blood. His face was shaved clean. My eyes slowly scanned the rest of him. His jacket pocket had something sticking out.

  I wondered what it was, so I reached over him and took out the offending object. It turned out to be a pair of broken sunglasses, just like the ones that actors in the movies wore. Long, thin, pure black ones. Ones that hid what was underneath perfectly.

  My gaze fell back to the man. His dark blue eyes were suddenly open…and staring squarely at me. But he didn’t move. He just stared and freaked me out in the process.

  Maybe he wanted his sunglasses back. Though why he needed them at night eluded me. “Sorry, I was curious,” I apologized to the man who was stone silent.

  “Where—” His chapped lips moved more, but no sound came out. He was without a doubt trying to talk but failing. The only thing he was passing on was staring at me with those abnormally blue eyes.

  Gabriel had abnormally blue eyes…but lighter. This man’s eyes were dark and deep. Navy blue. The color of my jeans blue. They couldn’t be natural, could they?

  My thoughts were interrupted as he reached out a hand but fell short of my knee. Oh, yeah. “Don’t worry,” I told him. “You’re safe. We…took care of that thing.”

  “The…Zeny?” the man coughed out.

  “Yeah.” He started to talk more, but I shushed him. “I don’t think you should be talking. Michael and Gabriel are going to take care of you.” I observed his dark blue eyes gradually close and the man was unconscious once more.

  Michael came rushing back, carrying a bucket of water and some disinfectant. Also some thread and a needle. The last time I saw those was when I needed them. In my wrists. They were worried that I cut myself when in reality it was John who did it to me, in my dream. I still wasn’t sure why the injury I sustained in my dream actually happened.

  “Where is that boy?” Michael said anxiously as he tore open the man’s shirt. “We’re lucky that his top half is the only wounded part, otherwise I’d have to draw the line and hand him over to Koath. Good thing he’s on his way over.”

  “What? Why?” I eyed him as he inspected the man’s battered front.

  “He needs to talk to you and Gabriel about Crixis…and now he has to speak to this man as well.”

  “Why does he need to talk to him?” I asked earnestly.

  “To see if this man remembers anything from tonight…and if he needs to be dealt with.”

  “Dealt with?” I grew alarmed for this man’s safety.

  “If his memory needs to be wiped,” Michael corrected himself. “If he recalls what happened and Koath deems it necessary, then his memory will be erased. Just his memory of tonight. Nothing more.”

  I sighed, full of relief, as Gabriel slid to the floor and handed Michael the towels. “About bloody time,” he said through clenched teeth as he began to dab the blood.

  I got out of the way, sat back, and watched, for there was nothing I could do. The only thing that I could do was get in the way, and that might cost this man his life. Here’s hoping that Michael could play doctor really well, otherwise this man was out of luck.

  If I could use two words to describe a perfect shower, they would be…one: hot and two: steamy. And, happily for me, this shower had both. It normally had both, but sometimes the hot water ran out and I ended up standing with cold water all over me. Not pleasant. Trust me.

  After checking the water once more, I was about to get in. But something was wrong, I felt it. “Kass…” A harsh voice whispered in my ear. I hadn’t heard that voice in a very long time. Well, technically only since they left.

  I bit my lip, cracking it and drawing a drop of blood. It was just like before. I was in the shower, I stepped out, and then I saw him—John. Only I didn’t know it was John until much later. Until it was too late.

  Tightening my fists, I flipped around, getting my hair caught in my face in the process. Smooth, Kass, very smooth. As soon as I blinked a few times, I saw him: John. But that was impossible. He wasn’t really here…was he?

  His black hair was greased back, which was something new. His chest fitted with leather and a variety of belts, same with his legs. The only thing that remained the same was his eyes. His dark, brown eyes.

  That’s when my eyes noticed a bow in his hand. He lifted it up, arrow pointed straight at my forehead. And then he released.

  I fell back and sank into the tub, which had filled quickly with the water. Huh. I must have forgotten to put the drainer up. But as far as I knew…no one took baths anyway, so it shouldn’t have been down in the first place.

  Trying frantically to swim to the top, I only sank more. A silent, water-filled scream flowed from my mouth. I sank and the light at the top of the unusually deep bathtub was getting smaller by the second.

  What was happening? Why did John seem so different? And why did he shoot me? Though…it’s not like I felt anything, even though the arrow was pointed directly at my forehead.

  My eyes saw the light coming closer. Strange because I gave up in my struggle to get back up. A hand was extended in the water, reaching out to me. Something inside me said that hand wasn’t going to help me.

  I tried swimming the other way, but I didn’t go anywhere.

  A rough jerk radiated from the hand as it jumped to me, getting a firm grasp of my neck. I was swiftly lifted up and out of the water, thrown onto the dry land. Rolling to a stop, I coughed out plenty of water before opening my eyes.

  A scream resonated in my head and I realized it came from a man who was manacled to the stone wall. I wasn’t in my house anymore, was I? Little by little, I drew my eyes up and beheld a severely beaten blonde man. Countless scars raked across his back, his face hidden in his shaking hands.

  Oh, God. Gabriel?

  My hand went to him, but he cowered away, finally showing his face.

  It wasn’t Gabriel. It was Steven. Claire’s uncle Steven. What happened to him?

  I sensed a presence behind me, so I turned around, ready to kick some Demon butt. Except it was the one person who I wasn’t expecting. My mother. A long, thin blade burst through her chest, creating a ripple in the air that blasted all the way to me.

  “No!” I screamed, holding out a hand, as if my outstretched hand could stop what had already happened. Soon, realization dawned on me. I had seen that sword before. It belonged to Crixis.

  With a sickening tug, the sword drew back and my mother’s lifeless body fell to the ground. Just as I suspected, Crixis stood behind her. He shot a glare at me before bringing the dripping golden blade up to his mouth. His tongue met with it, taking in the blood. My mother’s blood.

  Dream/vision or not, this was not okay with me.

  I started towards him as his eyes flared red and his teeth grew. If I could, I would strangle the life out of that Daywalker. But someone stood between us, giving Crixis time to flash away. I looked up. “Michael?” My voice shook.

  My Guardian didn’t respond. He took an aggressive step to me, backing me up and forcing me to trip on something behind me. I glanced over and saw that I tripped over Claire. What was Claire doing here? A gust of wind hit my face and Michael was gone.

  I crawled over to Claire, who was hunched by her uncle. Taking in the sight of the giant pool of blood that seeped from Steven, I extended a faltering hand to her shoulder. I gulped as I asked, “Claire?”

  An otherworldly shriek escaped her mouth. Facing me, Claire revealed herself, a vile sight. A short breath came from my mouth as I slipped back. The bottom half of her jawbone was gone. All that remained was her top row of teeth and her tongue, which just hung there, useless. Her gross fingernails gripped the maroon dagger that was drenched in her uncle’s blood.

  That was definitely not Claire.

  Taking action, I stood and began running in the opposite direction, away from the
zombie-ish Claire. It was a great plan, at least I thought so…until I ran smack dab into someone. Which was wonderful. So far, all the people here have been very nice.

  Please note the sarcasm there.

  Observing the leather and the belts, I immediately thought it was John. But this outfit was darker and different. Gradually I brought my eyes up to the bleached-blonde, blue-eyed boy who stood in front of me.

  Gabriel.

  His light blue eyes met mine before falling to his hand, which held a dagger. He rose it, lingering it by my neck. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was watch him and think: what is he doing?

  Then I got my answer.

  He lifted it to his face, or more exactly, his eye, and dug in. Gasping and covering my mouth, I staggered back. In a few ghastly seconds, he dropped the dagger and fell on his knees. His face oozed blood from both eye sockets. It trickled down his cheeks, into his mouth and on his neck. His chin languidly rose and I was shocked still in horror.

  Black veins surged in his skin, coming from his eyes. Gabriel winced in pain, letting me see his teeth. His sharp teeth. They were not Daywalker sharp…just sharp.

  Blackness traveled from his fingertips, up his arms, up his neck and engulfed his face. His light hair became dark. His fingernails grew. The darkness took him. It took Gabriel. Black bubbles erupted below and swallowed him up, leaving me alone to stare at the dagger that he used to cut his eyes.

  But was I truly alone? I didn’t think so, especially after hearing a carnivorous rumble. Great. Who could it possibly be now?

  The person (or, more likely, thing) behind me shoved me to the dirt ground and before I could get up, rested its muscular body on my back. Clawing at the floor, I tried to maneuver myself out from underneath it, but it didn’t work.

  I felt two hands slowly make their way up my back and heard another animalistic snarl. A drop of blood fell to the floor next to me. I had to get away from him/it now…otherwise I knew something bad would happen.

  Turned out, I didn’t have to worry, because the two hands grabbed my waist and threw me with unearthly strength. I landed hard on the dirt fifty feet away. I jerked, looking up to see the attacker.