The Nightwalkers Saga: Books 1 - 7

by Candace Wondrak

  Claire put a frantic foot on the bottom step. “Steven!”

  Loud thumps were getting closer, so my eyes drew themselves up the stairs to see Steven jumping down them. His practically white hair was faintly frizzed, covering his dark brown eyes.

  With the tousled hair and the dark eyes, I realized he wasn’t exactly awful-looking. It also helped that he was shirtless. I mean, who would have thought that underneath his dressy, button up shirts was an almost-albino man who was toned to perfection? Not as muscled as Gabriel, but not bad for a civilian.

  “What is it? I was—” Steven stopped the instant he saw me. “—taking a shower,” he finished, eyeing my wounded finger like he thought it was going to explode. That, or leak all over his floor. “You didn’t tell me that we had injured company.”

  “Yeah, sorry.” Claire quickly threw a glare at me. “Kass isn’t taking the cut seriously. It could be infected, since I haven’t seen them clean the school in months. I told her that you could take a look at it.”

  I did my best to not roll my eyes at her dramatic recollection. It’s a tiny cut. I’d fared a lot worse, although she didn’t know that.

  “That,” his dark eyes met mine and held the gaze, “I can definitely do. Just let me—”

  “I’ll get you a shirt while you start doing your thing,” Claire said as she ran up the steps, taking two at a time. Soon she was gone, and I was left alone with her shirtless, weird, usually angry, and marriage-related uncle Steven.

  “Come on,” Steven said, leading me to the small kitchen table. He sat me down and retrieved the small emergency kit Claire had found. “Let’s see it.” He motioned for me to put the wounded finger on the table.

  As he studied my finger, my eyes fell to his chest. It was perfect. Not Gabriel-perfect, mind you. It was a different kind of perfect. There was not a scar on his pale body (none that I could see anyways), nor any tattoos (ditto). It looked so…smooth. So perfect. There were no other words to describe it.

  Suddenly aware that I was checking out the uncle Claire hated with a passion sometimes, I darted my eyes onto the newspaper that was spread across the table before me.

  Noticing where my eyes were, he decided to strike up a conversation. “Have you seen it?” Steven inquired as he poured some stinging disinfectant on my finger. His dark eyes left my injury to gaze at me for only a moment before returning to it.

  “What?” I asked, bewildered, slowly reading the headline. If headlines were important, Michael always was the one to tell us. I never read papers on my own. As if I had the time.

  “The wolf the people in this town are saying they’ve seen. A big wolf with black eyes.” He laughed. “In North Carolina. Even that’s a bit of a stretch for me. Not sure if I believe it, and I believe in a lot of things.”

  I smiled, mentally unsure what he meant by that. He didn’t know the half of it. “Oh, yeah?” I laughed with him, baiting him, “Like what?”

  “If I told you,” Steven acted like he was debating it in his mind, “you’d probably not believe me. You might even think I’m a tad insane.”

  “Try me,” I begged. I was seriously curious about what this man believed in. Nightwalkers. Daywalkers. Demons. The whole shebang, just part of it, or none? This town was supposedly infested with supernatural beings, which was the reason Michael moved us here to begin with.

  Steven opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a thrown shirt in his face. He stood and faced the angry Claire. Her blue eyes were furious. But why did she look so mad?

  She glared at him as he hurriedly got in his shirt. “Sorry to interrupt your…whatever that just was, but Kass came here so you could fix her finger, not so you and her could become soul mates.”

  Not tearing his brown eyes away from Claire, Steven grabbed the needle and thread out of the kit, saying, “It needs a few stitches.”

  I bit my lip and kept quiet. Claire was in a rage right now, and I knew better than to say something stupid. Whatever she walked in on was not filled with sexual tension, not any type of tension. I was smart enough to know that her words couldn’t be taken at face value.

  Claire stood on watch as Steven began stitching me back together. I faked a grimace once or twice to show that I was in pain, even though it was a piece of cake for me. I have had both of my wrists stitched up thanks to John’s psychotic behavior, so I was definitely used to it. I had to keep up a girlie, normal persona.

  In minutes he was done and I, feeling the yelling episode between them coming, ran to the door, saying, “Thanks for everything, Steven. I’ll see you tomorrow, Claire.” I twisted the doorknob with my healthy hand when Steven was suddenly behind me, his reflexes far too quick.

  I ignored the feeling that Steven was something more than he seemed.

  “I can give you a ride,” he suggested, seeming as sincere as possible.

  I noticed Claire rolling her eyes in the background as I said, “No, thanks. I’ll make it faster if I run.”

  “Are you sure?” Steven inched closer.

  “Yeah.” I opened the door and stepped out. “I’m sure. Traffic and all that.” I ran down the driveway, yelling “Bye” only once. Speaking of tension, there was a lot of it in that room between Steven and Claire, and I was so very thankful to be out of there.

  Chapter Seven - Steven

  A harsh breath escaped my mouth as I went to close the front door. No doubt I’d turn around and see Claire standing there, tapping her foot, as if she knew what was running through my mind and disapproved of it.

  Too bad she wasn’t the adult in this house.

  My eyes met hers. “What is wrong with you, Claire?”

  “What’s wrong with me?” She took a step back, sounding flabbergasted and looking it, too. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “No,” I shook her glare and question off easily. After marrying her sister, I’d gotten used to such glares. “What is wrong with you? Haven’t you noticed it yet?” I instantly came to a conclusion. “Perhaps you’re too young. Your senses haven’t fully developed.”

  “What haven’t I noticed, Steven?” Claire practically hissed my name. “That you were practically eating her alive?” Her foot started the incessant tapping and her fingers joined in. Her short, blonde hair swayed with her head as she shook it.

  A terse laugh came from me. What a child she was. Despite all the growing up she did after her parents’ deaths, after my wife’s…she still had a lot more to do. “You don’t feel it?” Her blue eyes squinted. If she wasn’t confused before, she sure was now.

  She tried rationalizing what I was saying, “Of course I don’t feel whatever sick—”

  “This isn’t about anything like that.” I ran a tense hand through my hair. “This is something more. Your friend is…something else.” Grinding my teeth, I walked upstairs, trying to calm my temper and get away from Claire. Even though I was the adult in the house, it was occasionally difficult to act like it.

  But, of course, it wasn’t that easy. She followed me, saying, “Something else? What do you mean?”

  When I reached the top of the stairs, I faced her and said with deadly certainty, “Kass isn’t human.”

  Chapter Eight – Kass

  The church seemed quiet. Too quiet. Especially too quiet to have Gabriel, Max and Raphael in there, fighting or lecturing or whatever. As noiselessly as I could, I snuck through the giant doors. Much to my chagrin, they creaked loudly, signaling everyone that I was here. And that I was late.

  But the thing was, I didn’t see anyone. Which was weird because I didn’t see them outside, either. If they weren’t in here, or out there, then where were they?

  A man dressed in priest’s clothing caught my eye. Raphael. I could see the glint of his green eyes even though he was on the opposite side of the humongous church. He dropped what he was carrying and started walking in my direction. Dust scattered everywhere, but he didn’t seem to care.

  He looked pissed.

  Ah, well, that was the n
orm with him and me.

  I blinked and suddenly Raphael was in front of me. His long legs had glided him and quickly closed the distance between us. I recalled the Raphael from the other world, how he could rift-walk. What a neat little trick, although it was due to the fact that I died and everyone I cared about turned into some kind of Demon.

  Not that I cared about Raphael. Not like that, anyways, regardless of my hormones.

  He frowned. “You are late.”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” I replied smartly back at him. “Where’s Gabriel and Max?” I glanced around the empty church to make my point that they were nowhere around.

  “Not here, clearly” was his own smart reply.

  I chuckled. “Oh, really? Thanks again, Captain.”

  “It was my pleasure.” Raphael did a mock bow as he said this. “Now, please tell me why you were late. I am sure the story will be captivating to the point that it will be near unbelievable.”

  “Wow.” I took a step back and glared at him. “Did you take a lesson from Gabriel about sarcasm?” That was an uncanny Gabriel-like sentence.

  “No. I did not. Think what you want, but I mastered sarcasm all on my own. Gabriel did not invent it.” Raphael held up a finger. “However, just as I learned sarcasm, you are going to learn how to clean this church.” His face got closer. “All on your own.”

  “But,” I whined, “I got stitches. Look.” I held up my pitiful finger to his face.

  “I see. Do you want some consolation?”

  I nodded.

  “Very well. Your poor, little finger. Whatever did it do to deserve such a fate?” Raphael started walking toward the broken altar and I followed him. His light head turned back to me. “Was that good enough?”

  “No,” I answered shortly. “No, it wasn’t. You’re doing fine with sarcasm. It’s the comforting you got to work on.”

  “You can teach me all about it,” Raphael smiled brightly. “While you’re cleaning and sorting my books.”

  “How many books can there be?” I laughed to myself. My first task of cleaning the church was to sort his books? Easy-peasy.

  He put an arm around my shoulders in a haughty display and led me to an annexed room. I hadn’t been to this room in this world, but in the other world, I had. I mentally told myself to ignore the heat radiating from his muscular arm and to focus on the room that was filled to the brim with books and scrolls. A a lot more than he had in that other world.

  “Lots,” Raphael managed to say between his laughter.

  “I—” I paused and sneezed. “—hate you.” This room was also filled to the tip top with dust. Lots and lots of books, scrolls, and dust. If only I wasn’t allergic to three of those three things.

  “What’s a…” I squinted at the ancient language. The caption below the picture was tiny and hard to make out. “…a cheenoryvigamabla?”

  Raphael, who was busy reading one of the books I had already been through, stretched his legs out on his makeshift bed before responding, “What was that?”

  I tried the name one more time, “A cheenorygagaundala.” It was such an awkward and long name that if I heard of it before, I definitely would remember it.

  His green eyes remained glued to the page he read as he said, “I have been told the third time is the charm.”

  My body automatically went into a pouting position. So what if it was a little ten-year-old-ish? Raphael knew what I was trying to say. He just liked hearing me sound like an idiot.

  “Why do I have to say it again? You know I don’t know how to pronounce this.” I held up the ten-pound book. “You know what I mean. Don’t even bother denying it, Raphael, because I know the truth.”

  “You are right. I do find the way you butcher the name differently every time quite amusing,” he admitted freely, shooting a green-eyed stare in my direction, “and I do know which Demon you’re talking about.”

  “You’re so mean to me,” I complained, wiping the covers and spine of the book after I gave up on pronouncing the name.

  “I know I am. Tell you what, you can stop right now if you tell me the truth about the staff. Where you got it, how you got it, and what took place both when you got it and before. It is truly that simple.”

  “I told you,” I repeated myself for about the hundredth time so far, “I found the staff just lying on the ground.” And, for about the hundredth time, it was still a lie and it still didn’t sound believable coming from my mouth.

  “Has anyone ever told you—” He returned his attention to the book he probably read a million times. “—that you are a terrible liar?”

  I thought about it before replying a quick “Yes.”

  “Then why do you bother lying?”

  I eyed him up. “Why bother asking?” I sighed and went back to work. The only reason I was even looking through the books was because I was deathly bored of just cleaning the outer binding and tossing it to the side. It was an incredibly monotonous task that I needed a break from every now and then.

  The next book in the pile I was working on was unusually thin.

  I flipped it open and scanned the pages for any pictures. This book was all words. No wonder it was so short compared to all the others, who had pictures on every page. I was seconds away from giving up when, on the very last page, there was something folded in.

  A cautious hand reached for it and, before I knew it, unfolded it.

  An incredulous gasp escaped my lungs as my eyes took in the picture. I’d seen this black symbol before, in one of my visions. The vision about the first Council. This symbol was on the floor and on their golden amulets. It clearly meant something to them. Something that I was a little (okay, a lot) cloudy on. While I’d had plenty of Demonology, I hadn’t learnt much about the history of the Council.

  I said “Raphael, what’s—” before I realized I wasn’t in the church anymore.

  The paper wasn’t in my hands. I stood and glimpsed all around. Large and beautiful painted windows were scattered among the stone wall. Three men were situated behind a marble slab that overlooked the entire round room.

  My eyes fell to my feet, seeing the same black symbol. What did this symbol mean?

  Joseph, the oldest Council Member, stroked his beard, saying, “Bring him in.”

  Two impossibly large men left the room. I was beyond eager to see who they were going to bring in. Was it going to be someone else that I’d heard bedtime stories of? Some old Purifier?

  In minutes the men were back, and I noticed an extra pair of feet behind their own. I made a move to go around to see this man, but fell straight down into a pool of water that, without warning, appeared before me.

  I must have sunk unnaturally fast, because it took me a while to swim to the top. My head flew back as I gasped for air and looked around. I stumbled out of the water and fell to my knees. I was near a river side town, no longer in the Council chamber.

  Everything and everyone looked peaceful and content. The villagers wandered about the town, bartering and trading. Children skipped happily through the dirt roads. A picture-perfect place.

  But something wasn’t right. Someone was out of place. And that someone happened to be cloaked entirely in a black cape and hood. It was a man, I could tell by the length of his shoulders and the brawniness of his leather-clad legs. He walked hastily through the road, knowing exactly where to go and when to turn.

  I bit my lip and decided to follow him.

  He took me to a normal-looking hut. His rough hand pounded on the door and I instantly leered, wondering if he was here to do some slaughtering. The man seemed frantic as he banged on the door again. Under his hood, his head tilted as he kicked down the door with sheer force.

  I followed the concealed man into the hut. I gagged. So much blood. I had my fair share of blood, but this…this was like someone exploded from the inside out.

  That’s when I saw the body of the woman who used to own all the blood. She was horrendously dismembered, and her eyes glazed ope
n. Some of her limbs were missing. Sights like this I never would get used to.

  The door slammed shut behind me, making me jump. I flipped around and came face to face with a Daywalker who looked like Dwayne Johnson on steroids. I stepped out of the way as he snarled, showing his fierce, inch-long front teeth and his almost equally long canines.

  That was the thing about Daywalkers. Their real teeth were something truly scary that always gave me the shivers. Animals in human-shape.

  Using his inhuman speed, the Daywalker flashed on top of the cloaked man, soaking him in the dead woman’s blood. I tried seeing the hooded man’s face, but sadly was unable to. It was beginning to piss me off.

  All I wanted to do was see who the man was. No more mystery for me. I preferred to know straight-up what I was dealing with. If only my visions listened to what I wanted.

  The cloaked man whispered something in another language, sending the Daywalker flying off him and colliding with the opposite wall, shaking the entire hut. The hooded man walked over to the immobilized Demon and whispered more.

  There was something about this man that was familiar. The way he walked, the way he whispered, the way he looked under that black cape and hood. I was too busy watching what happened next to further mull it over.

  A sharp, blue light emanated from the cloaked man as he swiftly sent his fist into the Daywalker. He jerked his hand out, clutching the heart of the beast. The Daywalker’s blackened eyes widened as he watched his heart lift in the air as the man continued to mutter another language and glow blue. The hooded man yelled one, final word as the heart imploded on itself. The Demon reached for its stomach and looked down. In seconds, the Daywalker followed suit of his heart.

  I mouthed the word wow before blinking and being back in the church once more.

  “What’s what?”

  “Huh?” I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around the vision I had. It was too familiar, and I remembered witnessing something similar in the other reality.

  Raphael shut the ancient book in his lap and leaned up. “You said, Raphael, what’s, and then you must have gotten lost in your own mind. What were you going to ask me?”