#nightalkers

[solutiions]

closed for @nightalkers​

“ i know i promised i wouldn’t be late. i’m sorry. ”

[solutiions]

closed for @nightalkers​

“ don’t you think you’d have a lot more fun with me tonight ? ”

[candacew]

Nightwalkers...first and second scenes! Kass's P.O.V.

sorry for the delay...but I edited the first scene so it's a bit different than the previous post. tell me if you like! :)

SCENE ONE

            “You look terrible.”

            Its response was a blank stare.

            I tilted my head, saying, “Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you should skip out on moisturizing. A little bit of lotion could go a long way for you.”

            Another stare.

            “And where’d you get those clothes?” I directed the question at its hideous, torn up apparel. “Did you miss the ugly shirt convention and decide to go to the seizure-inducing pattern conference instead?”

            Well, so much for making my last purification here fun. Tonight was pretty much the last night of summer. And also my last night here in Milsburry. Which, as much as it doesn’t sadden me to say, was fine with me. After all, this town has been getting a little boring, especially since Gabriel and I had gotten rid of all the… 

            …evil.

            Cheesy? Yes. I know. I realize it’s very cheesy.

            In fact, Gabriel was already settled in with Michael in Greenville, North Carolina. And that was on the other side of America. Tonight was my flight, that is, after I finish up here.

            I looked at my watch for the time.

            And, before you ask, yes. I said watch. You know why? Because in the thick of the fight, they are easier to see than a cell phone. When I’m fighting three Nightwalkers, personally I find it much better to glance at my watch then ask them to hold off for a minute while I pull out my cell to check if I’m going to be late for dinner.

            Seven o’clock.

            “Alright. Much as I hate to say it, we have to finish this now, or I’m going to be late to my flight, and we both know how horrendous air travel is these days.” I reached in my coat for a wooden stake. Without a pause, I lunged at him. Or, I suppose I should say, it. ‘Cause, technically, I guess it wasn’t a him anymore. But in reality it didn’t matter what I thought.

            A Demon was a Demon, and in this case, a Nightwalker was a shriveled, blood-crazed, skin-craving Demon with extra pointy teeth.

            The stake would have landed right on the area where its heart should have been, if it was alive and if it had a heart…except I encountered a teeny, weeny problem with that. The Nightwalker grabbed my hand at the last second, preventing me from purifying it right there.

            “Now this is what I’m talking about!” I yelled as it twisted my hand with force, causing me to drop the stake. It kept its hold on my one arm and spun around, lifting me off the ground.

            All I could think was: I haven’t been lifted in a while. This Hawaiian shirt wearing Nightwalker was stronger than he looked, even though all Nightwalkers were stronger than they looked. They were Demons, after all, so they had hidden strengths the naked eye couldn’t normally see.

            After a few moments it let go, and I crashed into the door of a nearby mausoleum, cracking it wide open. Crap.

            If Koath, my old guardian/mentor was here, he’d probably kill me himself, though God tends to frown on that sort of behavior by his servants. We weren’t supposed to destroy our surroundings when we were in a battle against evil, supernatural forces like Demons, because it could give the cops clues to our existence. And every purifier knows that wouldn’t be good. But it wasn’t my fault that the Nightwalker in need of a serious makeover threw me here.

            And it wasn’t like I don’t normally break everything around me, because I do.  

            Quite often actually. Nearly every time. Come to think of it, it was a miracle the police haven’t discovered the existence of purifiers yet. Whether they know it or not, we work well together. They take care of the human evildoers, and we deal with the Demonic ones.

            I leapt up in one insanely sweet Buffy-like move. Grabbing the extra stake in my coat, I waited by the entrance for the Nightwalker to come in.

            Moments passed, and all the while I heard not a single noise, so I decided to venture out, cautiously, of course. I’m always cautious. Sometimes. Well, when I remember to be cautious, which, now that I’m thinking about it, wasn’t as often as I’d like to admit.

            Anyways, what do my little eyes see as soon as I step out?

            Nothing. Nothing except the back of its shockingly appalling shirt that should never have been created. And why was this Nightwalker, who had a seriously bad taste in clothes when it was still a human, showing me its back?

            It was walking away, like it thought I wasn’t a challenging kill or something.

            The nerve of some Nightwalkers these days. It felt like it was only yesterday when they had the decency to relentlessly attack over and over until a stake in the heart. Ah, wait a moment, that was yesterday.

            After getting in quarterback position, I threw the stake, which was a perfect spiral by the way, and yelled, “Hey ugly!”

            It turned around just in time.

            Feeling quite happy with myself and my throw, I walked up to it and watched flame engulf its wrinkly face and, unfortunately, my stake. “Maybe next time you’ll remember not to walk away from me, though it would’ve ended like this either way, I guess…and now I’m talking to myself in a graveyard. Great.”

            In a few seconds I stood there staring at nothing but grass. I turned and headed for the road when I noticed my first stake. “No, officer, I’m not crazy. I was just fighting a Nightwalker, basically saving your life, not that you’ll ever know,” I mocked myself as I picked it up.

            Normally I lose both my stakes.

  SCENE TWO

              “What is taking her so bloody long?” Michael asked, delirious from waiting. He rubbed his eyes behind his small rimmed glasses. His short, dark hair was messy and sticking every which way, meaning he probably didn’t get a wink of sleep last night because he was too busy worrying about me.

            Isn’t that just a disgusting display of guardian-purifier sentiment?

            “It’s Kass we’re talking about. She’s always late.” Gabriel shrugged his broad shoulders. “Let’s be honest here: she missed her flight because she took too much time finishing off the list of recently decease-”

            Michael coughed, signaling to the crowd of people that were walking past them in the airport.

            “-deceiving squirrels,” Gabriel caught himself, acting totally serious as he went on, “they act all cute, fluffy and innocent, and then you try to catch them and all bets are off, and the next thing you know you wake up in a hospital diagnosed with rabies, strange as it sounds.”  

            I silently walked up behind them, and I couldn’t believe it. They thought I was late? That I missed my flight? That I spent too much time finishing off the list?

            Well, alright. That last part was true, besides the whole ‘squirrel’ concoction Gabriel just pulled out of his ass. That was something that boy liked to do often, nearly three times every hour.

            But I caught my flight. Barely. That last part, though, they didn’t need to know.

            Shaking my head, I snuck up behind them and marveled at their incredible unawareness. If I was a Nightwalker, they’d be dead meat. Although, if I was a Nightwalker, I’d burn up on account of the sunlight and all that. “I can’t believe you guys. You have no faith in me whatsoever, do you?” I asked as I handed Michael one of my suitcases.

            The six and a half foot blonde next to the tired Englishman grinned. “Wow, look who’s right. We have to mark this occasion, since it’s the first time you’ve been right in your entire life. Trust me, I’d know. I’ve been with you through every false step-” He stopped when I smacked his arm. “Fine, back to your reward. Would you like a crumpled cookie or a slightly used tissue?” Gabriel grabbed my second suitcase as pure, unadulterated thoughtfulness swept across his face.

            Such sarcasm. I only arrived a few seconds ago, and this was how they treat me? Ridiculous. “What kind of cookie?” I asked while giving him a glare that would freeze even the most sinister Nightwalker.

            Michael adjusted his glasses, something he always did, and began walking out of the airport. “I’m assuming peanut butter, since that is the only kind he can seem to make without burning the whole bloody kitchen down.” His English accent made everything he said sound so regal. He unlocked the trunk of his black jeep and lifted my suitcase.

            “You know what they say about assuming, Michael. Makes an ass out of you and me. In this case though,” Gabriel handed him my luggage he was carrying and received a humorous look from Michael, continuing, “you’re not wrong. But let me remind you that was only one time. How was I supposed to know that cookies don’t bake three times as fast at three times the temperature?”

            Michael slammed the trunk down and glared at Gabriel. It was clear to me that the memory of his burnt kitchen was still raw. “Common sense?” He walked to the driver’s seat and opened the door.

            “Common sense?” Gabriel echoed as he sat in the passenger’s seat, much to my dismay.

            Why? That meant I was the one sitting in the back, alone, which sucked.

            “I was ten!” Gabriel threw his hands up in the air after buckling his seatbelt. “I had about as much common sense as a slutty girl in a horror movie! The fact that they were chocolate chip cookies was pure happenstance.”

            I watched the scenery fly by. This place actually had trees. And grass that wasn’t brown. Weird. “And you never tried making chocolate chip cookies after that?” As I asked the question, I mentally told myself to not laugh aloud. That would only egg him on.

            The blonde boy turned to look at me, which I know from experience is very uncomfortable. “Are you joshing me? I was traumatized! I still am! Sometimes I have nightmares where the fire and the ashes of the kitchen hold hands and sing Ring Around the Rosie!”

            I nodded. “Yeah, sure. And you do know that you saying ‘joshing’ is not going to bring it back in, right?” Gabriel always tried bringing things back in when they were totally out. He took all the credit for the skinny jeans phase of society. And a guy with a build like that in skinny jeans was not a sight you would want to see, trust me.

            Though I do keep a picture for future blackmail purposes, just in case.

            All I can say is thank God he got out of that, and wears normal jeans now. It wasn’t that he was fat; there probably wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body. It’s just that he was too tall to wear skinny jeans, if that makes any sense.

            Gabriel acted grossly offended, saying, “Oh, you know everything I do is in. It’s only a matter of time before society realizes that snakeskin is better than leather, zigzags are better than stripes, no matter what the direction, and the sasquatch is more real than Donald Trump’s hair.”

            “I’m not sure I agree with any of those, Gabriel,” I said slowly, knowing how stubborn he could be. Then again, I’ve been told I could be equally, if not more, stubborn.

            “Fine, but that’s pure ignorance. I hope you know that,” he mumbled as he settled into his seat.

            “Oh, whatever.” I rolled my eyes and closed them shortly after. Apparently we had a few hours to drive before reaching Greenville. And I had jetlag of the biggest proportions.