The Nightwalkers Saga: Books 1 - 7

by Candace Wondrak

  The older brother’s dark eyes held my gaze as he licked his wrist, healing up the bite marks instantly. There was something about his brown eyes that changed, but for the life of me, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  We waited not-so-patiently for Claire to suddenly regain her natural color, stand up and say that she was fine, but we were immediately dismayed to realize that nothing happened. She wasn’t getting better. The Daywalker blood wasn’t doing a thing.

  Raphael was the one who put two and two together first. “She will not heal, regardless the amount of Vampire blood you give her.” I was about to ask why not when he continued, “A bite from Vexillion is fatal.”

  Wait, Vexillion? I knew I’d heard the name before. Koath told me about it when I was joking around about werewolves. Was Crixis Vexillion?

  “I’m sorry, Kass.” Raphael gently helped me into a standing position, his emerald eyes filled with empathy. “Your friend is dying.”

  “No,” I said, confident. “No. There has to be something we can do.” My heart didn’t want to believe it, but my brain knew the truth: there was nothing we could do. Soon Claire would die, and then she’d rise up as a Nightwalker, due to Crixis gaining power from those things he devoured.

  And then I’d have to do my duty and purify her.

  I’d have to purify one of my only friends.

  Chapter Sixteen – Kass

  Claire was going to die. She was bandaged up, lying on Raphael’s bed, unconscious, and dying because of me and Crixis’s stupid obsession with killing and torturing me.

  As Taiton spoke to everyone and got their statements, I sat in a chair beside the bed, staring at my abnormally pale friend. This was torture.

  I’d rather have been on the receiving end of Crixis’s bite than Claire. I who should’ve been bitten, not Claire. Claire should never have gotten hurt on my account. What was I going to tell Steven and Max?

  “I’m sorry. If I would have known—” Rain stopped the moment our gazes met.

  “You couldn’t have done anything,” I regretfully said, taking the rag in my lap and wiping the sweat off Claire’s forehead. I had no clue how much longer she was going to last, so I had to be with her until the end.

  “I don’t know if it’ll help any, but I could bring Alyssa,” he told me, eyes drifting back to Claire. “She may be able to ease her pain, or maybe contain the bite’s toxins.” Rain stuck his hands in his pockets.

  “Do you think she’d be able to do that?” Hope suddenly welled in my chest. Alyssa was a powerful Witch, so maybe Rain was right. Maybe she could do something to help.

  He shrugged, not knowing either way.

  “When could you be back here by?”

  Rain answered me quickly, “Not long. Do you want me to bring her?”

  My eyes fell to Claire’s trembling hand. “It couldn’t hurt.”

  Turning, he placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.” After a gust of wind, he was gone, leaving me all alone with the comatose Claire. But not for long.

  “I take it that Kirk went to get Alyssa?” John spoke to me while staring out the nearby window. I’d say the chances of him looking me squarely in the eyes was slim to none. I didn’t want to look at him in the other world, and I didn’t want to look at him here.

  That didn’t stop me from eyeing up the blackness on his neck, remembering a time when his neck was black-free. Back before he saved me and Osiris’s evil light went into him. Back before I stabbed him. Back when things were much simpler.

  Truthfully, I never wanted to talk to John again. After all those things he did, I never wanted to see his face again, either. The pain of his teeth in my skin resurfaced on my neck. Getting bit wasn’t a fun experience.

  Pretending I was busy with folding and unfolding the sweat rag in my fingers, I avoided his dark gaze and nodded.

  “Kass.” John wandered closer. “I know there’s nothing I can say to make you feel at ease around me, but I want you to know that I haven’t done anything wrong since—”

  I threw the rag on the nightstand, instantly freezing him. I wasn’t about to listen to him drone on and on about how he changed, because deep down he was still the same John that murdered all those people. Nothing would change that. Storming out of the room, I said, “I don’t want to hear it.”

  John didn’t come after me. Not that I expected him to. I really couldn’t explain how I felt right now.

  Michael and Taiton were in the kitchen, discussing what steps they should take next. That’s where I headed, but for some reason, I slowed to a snail’s pace in the hallway. I was looking for any excuse to not face what was happening.

  Feeling a hand on my back, I spun to face Raphael, who must have snuck up on me in the hallway adjoining his room to the living room and kitchen area. Before I could respond, he wrapped me up in a hug that, despite his cold body, was full of warmth from affection. Did the guy not remember me trying to purify him?

  We stood in silence for the next few seconds, and I let him hug me. Whether the hug was for his benefit or mine, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I was tired, and I wanted it to end.

  The front door flew open, and newcomers to the scene walked in. One headed straight for where Raphael and I were.

  “Kass!” Gabriel was in the hallway, spotting me in Raphael’s arms. His expression darkened.

  I broke away from Raphael to gaze at Gabriel. If anyone should be hugging me, it should be Gabriel. But I was done with hugging. I wanted to fight something.

  “Are you all right?” Gabriel tried his best not to sound jealous.

  “I’m fine.” I mumbled. “But—” I paused, my hands turning to fists on my sides. “—Claire’s not. Crixis bit her. Gabriel.” I breathed out, “Claire’s going to die.”

  A shocked speechless voice managed to shakily say “What?”

  I closed my eyes, not wanting to be the one to break it to Max. I moved my head to glimpse past Gabriel. Max, the small red head, bug-glasses wearing, freckly-skinned boy, was wide-eyed and dazed.

  “Where is she?” Max was panicked. When no one answered him, for fear of being screamed at or for being speechless ourselves, he demanded, “Claire. Where is she?”

  Raphael was the one who responded, “In my room.”

  Without a second thought, Max ran past us, halting immediately. “No” was all he could say. “No, no, no!” His voice gained intensity. “Why…how did this happen?” His small eyes turned from hysteric to accusatory.

  “Max,” Gabriel warned, “I’m sure we’re missing something here—”

  “Bullshit,” Max swore for the first time, stunning us. “Crixis came here for her, not Claire. This is all your fault!” He raised a trembling finger in my direction. “Why didn’t you protect her? Isn’t that what we’re to do, protect civilians?”

  It was my turn to try to reason with the boy, “Max—”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Don’t Max me, Kass. I’m sick of this. You should have done the right thing and—”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gabriel growled, though he had no idea what he was talking about, either. “Claire is—” He sealed his lips when I hit his side. My sign to him not to say anything.

  “Claire’s what?” Max angrily asked. His brown eyes were furious, scaring me. I’d never seen Max this enraged before.

  “Open your eyes, Max,” Gabriel yelled back, equaling if not surpassing his anger. “Claire’s isn’t just some normal human. She’s a Morpher.” His blue eyes glared at the outraged Max.

  “What?” Max stumbled backwards, tripping on the chair that rested beside the bed. “She’s a…a what?”

  “She wanted to tell you herself,” I muttered, eyes locking with the floor.

  Max closed his open mouth, saying, “Excuse me.” He said not another word as he sat on the chair I had just recently considered home. I knew from now on, until Claire died and turned, that would be his home, too.


  Hearing another pair of footsteps in the now-silent room, we spun to face Liz, who had a somewhat startled face. “Ah. So she’s a Morpher?” Her skinny fingers rubbed her pointy chin.

  I could feel my face warp from sadness to worry instantly.

  “Oh.” Liz shook her head. “You don’t have to worry about me. I won’t harm her.” The other people in the room, including me, grew relatively relaxed. “Though the Council will have to know.” She glanced around the room, her gaze soon landing on John, who leaned against the wall in a corner.

  Truthfully I didn’t even know he was there. Then again, it wasn’t as if I was looking explicitly for John, because I most certainly wasn’t. If I never saw him again, it’d be too soon.

  “I heard there were two of you,” Liz said, walking over to him and extending a hand. “I’m Liz, by the way.” She generated a heartfelt smile easily, even though the circumstances didn’t merit any kind of smile.

  “John.” He warily shook her hand, probably wondering why she was so friendly with him. After all, Liz had no idea that John was a Daywalker, along with Rain and Raphael. Taiton would probably tell her soon enough, though.

  “Where is the other one?” She glanced around the room, maybe expecting to find Rain leaning against the opposite wall.

  “Kirk,” John answered, “went to get our sister.”

  “Oh.” Liz seemed taken slightly aback. “Odd, Taiton said you were both in this room, and I don’t recall seeing him on my way in. I suppose it’s one of those things that just can’t be explained, huh?” When the red-headed Purifier appeared, she set a hand on his shoulder. “How is she?”

  Max kept silent for a while, eventually mumbling, “How do you think she is?”

  “Try to not worry, Max,” Liz squeezed his boney shoulder. “I have Michael, Raphael and Taiton looking over every resource we have available to us. If there is an antidote to Crixis’s bite, we’ll find it.”

  They sure better find it. I didn’t want to lash out at everyone, especially since they were helping. Hopefully they would be successful, and if they weren’t, at least we had Alyssa as our backup.

  I was literally counting the seconds until Rain came back with her.

  Well, I’d come to a conclusion: life sucked. To be more specific: my life sucked.

  The couches in the living room weren’t as comfy as normal. They were harder and less plushy than I remembered. Maybe they felt like this because I knew Claire was dying. Maybe not. Who’s to say for sure?

  It didn’t help that I was constantly under the watchful eyes of Taiton. Now that he was done with the Council business, he was back to being my full-time bodyguard. Liz took his place in the book search, and now he was here.

  Max was beside Claire, just as we left him. Liz, Michael and Raphael were upstairs in the library rifling through every book, trying to find a cure for the bite. Gabriel was in the kitchen, eating. John was…well, I honestly had no idea where John was, and that was fine with me. I was no good at research. I’d only slow them down and waste their time.

  The ticking of the clock above the fireplace was abnormally loud. I could hear each individual tick as the seconds went by. That made me very sad, because it made the time go by slower. Much slower.

  I closed my eyes, wishing that the horrendous ticking would stop. It was ridiculous, I knew, because I wasn’t a magical being. I couldn’t stop time simply by wishing it.

  My eyelids flew open the instant I heard no more ticks.

  I glanced at Taiton. He was either unmoving or frozen. Glancing at the clock would be the determining straw. Spinning my head to face the clock, I was shocked/stunned/stupefied to find that the clock was indeed frozen.

  An apprehensive feeling erupted in my gut. Something was off.

  I turned my head, facing the same woman and child as before. They were exactly the same, except for one thing. The mother’s hair was tangled and knotted. The son’s body was dirty and bloody. All in all they were the same, minus their angry faces.

  They were upset. But why?

  “You.” The mother shook her head fiercely. “You gave us your word. You lied.”

  “What?” I stood, not knowing what else to do.

  The small boy stepped closer, saying, “You said you would help us. You promised—”

  “I will help you,” I said, exasperatedly. “I just need time. There are a lot of things going wrong right now, and I have to fix them before I find a way to purify Crixis.” My voice got louder as the explanation progressed.

  “You are still ignorant to the truth,” the woman spat, hatred evident in her tone.

  Furrowing my eyebrows, I stumbled back onto the hot sand of the desert.

  Three men were walking beside Crixis. It looked like they were in an argument of some sort. The leftmost man, one with a claymore the size of a child stuck to his back, said, “Do you think it wise, Crixis, to meet them?”

  Crixis’s jaw set. “It is the only option we have. I will not allow them to conquer the city.”

  “Perhaps,” the middle man spoke, “we should have brought more men. A simple scouting party may not be enough—”

  “It was not your decision to make,” Crixis snapped, shutting the other men up instantaneously. “Do not challenge my authority.” The other men bowed their heads. “We will fight for glory, but above all else, we fight for honor. Do not make me regret bringing you.”

  Oh, crap.

  I followed them to a group of men, some armed with bows and others swords. Their golden armor shone brightly in the sun, exposing their perfectly sculpted chests.

  One man, obviously the leader of the opposing group, said to Crixis, “It is astounding how foolish your kind can be.”

  The three men surrounding Crixis drew their weapons in a flash. The first man yelled, “Watch what you say, for they may be your last words.” His tense hand gripped his silver claymore, ready to strike at any moment.

  “You do not threaten us,” the golden armored man snarled. “We will overtake you and your pathetic city. As we speak, our men are entering your village, and soon all that will remain is rubble.”

  Crixis unsheathed his dual-wielded swords, saying, “We will not let that comment go unpunished. You will pay for the insults you have thrown!”

  The man laughed, raising his hand. “Let us see what the four best warriors of this city have to offer.” With a twist of his hand, his men cut down Crixis’s men…in about thirty seconds. “Now, let us fight like true warriors.” He pulled out his mace and lunged at Crixis.

  He dodged the attacks, avoiding them with ease. He uttered the words “You have made a grave mistake” slowly, recalling to my mind a vision I had.

  But that vision had been broken. All I saw were the dead bodies and the whole you have made a grave mistake thing. In context, it was totally different. Still, it didn’t change a thing. Did it?

  After many metal clashes, the men rivaling Crixis were defeated. Sweat rolled down his forehead, sticking his black hair to his dirty face. There were cuts on his skin, and he bled like a human. He hurriedly spun to view the steep cliff that jutted out in the sky.

  Definitely not the safest place to build a village.

  Without a trace of hesitation, Crixis took off, sprinting while keeping two hands firmly grasped on his swords. Running with swords wasn’t easy, but it looked like he was as used to handling them as he breathed.

  My instincts told me to run after him, so that’s exactly what I did. I ran. Eventually, after a whole lot of running, Crixis slowed down, and I didn’t know if it was because we were now in the village on the cliff, or if it was on account of something else. It was my moment to finally catch up to him.

  He rounded a corner, near the same well I had climbed out of and nearly drowned in not too long ago. Why were we stopping here?

  As he skidded to a rough halt, I scanned the immediate area, searching for a clue to what Crixis was looking at. My eyes landed on the dead woman, the same woman who made me promise
to help her and her son. The same woman who was pissed at me right now.

  Dropping his swords, Crixis collapsed onto his knees a few feet from the dead woman, but even closer to the dead boy. There was something that changed in Crixis the second he came across the freshly killed boy, but what was it?

  That wasn’t right. Why did he care so much about—

  “No,” Crixis whispered through closed teeth, as his trembling hand brought the child to his lap. Hugging the boy closer, he traced the bite marks along the boy’s skull. “No,” he repeated more intensely. He gently placed the boy on the ground, being careful to not do any more damage to the small body.

  I covered my open mouth as I watched Crixis softly shut the boy’s green eyes.

  With an unbelieving blink, I was back in my living room, staring at the woman and child. I wasn’t so much staring at the woman as I was the boy’s bright green eyes. And his high cheek bones. And the blackness of the hair that was starting to grow out of his shaved head.

  How did I not see it before? He was a mirror image of my worst enemy, only years younger.

  “Do you now understand?” the woman demanded of me. “You must help us.”

  Between freaking out and glancing from the woman and the boy, I asked, “Are you…his family? His wife and child?” I could barely force the words to come out. After all, just five minutes ago I thought Crixis was a Demonic vagabond that had always been, for lack of a new phrase, a Demonic vagabond.

  The woman held her son close, replying, “We were.”

  Despite the seriousness of the whole situation, I couldn’t stop myself from chuckling. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re his family, and you’re mad at me because, what, we didn’t let him kill me? Am I supposed to help you by dying?”

  Her black hair flailed wildly when she shook her head. “No. We do not want you to die. That, if you would listen to us, is why you must help us. You must help Crixis.” Her voice had traces of anger and devotion.

  “What?” I was completely incredulous. This whole time—they wanted me to help Crixis? Well, they were in for a world of surprise, because I’d sooner drink acid after chewing on razor blades than help Crixis.