Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night)

by Sherri Claytor

  Corin

  &

  Angelique

  After the Fall of Night

  Sherri Lee Claytor

  Copyright © 2013 Sherri Lee Claytor

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed,

  stored in a database or retrieval system, or transmitted

  in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, dead or alive, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN-13: 978-1482032833

  ISBN-10: 148203283X

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  1 Murder at Jaffler Farm

  2 Angelique

  3 Marshal Jordon Black

  4 The Mansion

  5 One Last Time

  6 The Challenge

  7 The Midnight Hour

  8 Boldor Enescu

  9 The Tape

  10 In the Fog

  11 The Fortuneteller

  12 The Staker

  13 The Cemetery

  14 A Surprise Visit

  15 Tape Number Two

  16 A Person of Interest

  17 The Darkness Below

  18 Deceived

  19 Fated for a Vampire

  20 The Eleventh Dimension

  21 To Capture an Angel

  22 The Green Folder

  23 Lehndra

  24 The Gathering

  25 No Ordinary Wolf

  26 Same Deal, Same Place

  27 Fully Consumed

  28 Changed

  EPILOGUE

  PROLOGUE

  Corin von Vadim walked amid the stones, fog rising around him in a silken veil. He looked down at each crumbling, mold-covered headstone, and read what remained legible on the aged epitaphs. Many had decayed so much with the passing of time that all visible record of whose earthly remains rested within had been lost, yet he knew who each one of them had been in life. This was the place of the dead, but Corin possessed a gift that allowed him to visit the past lives of the deceased just by touching the sacred ground where dust and bone rested. His power often served as a cure for boredom in his solitary life.

  He pulled the collar of his dark, knee-length cape tight against his jaws and tilted the brim of his black Stetson back while gazing at the chaos building in the sky. Lightning cracked across the heavens with avid ferocity. Heavy rain followed, the water almost immediately running down the brim of his hat onto his shoulders. He stood calmly in the deluge—getting soaked, nothing more than a nuisance—for no illness caused by the cold, damp night could harm him.

  The undead did not so easily die.

  Sensing the nearness of another presence, he cocked his head. He whirled to face the advancing individual, each bright flash illuminating his tall, masculine frame.

  “Curse that infernal lightning.” He scanned his surroundings, his view diminished by the torrential downpour.

  The next arc of lightning divulged the silhouette of a man. Comparable to his own height, the man stood maybe fifty feet in front of him. Corin gazed into the featureless face and knew, without question, his identity.

  “Tomes Jaffler, what is it you hope to gain by following me here?” His voice floated over the turmoil of the storm.

  “Justice, Corin von Vadim, I seek justice!” Tomes yelled back. “And it’s a fitting night to achieve it…monstrous!”

  Hatred emanated from Tomes, a devouring sickness seeping from his very pores.

  “I know what you are, Nightwalker.”

  “It sounds like you’ve made quite a discovery.”

  “Don’t deny it,” Tomes responded.

  “I wasn’t going to. But, I didn’t kill Louisa. I am not responsible for her death.”

  “I found her nearly drained!” Tomes disputed. “Isn’t that what you do, von Vadim, drain your victims of all life—take their essence in order to sustain your own vulgar existence?”

  Tomes pulled a wooden stake from beneath his coat and charged Corin.

  Endowed with superior speed, Corin had little trouble dodging the onrush.

  “I’m telling you the truth, Tomes. I didn’t take Louisa’s life, nor do I wish to take yours now.”

  Tomes lost his footing in the sludgy muck produced by the continual downfall and took a nasty dive to the ground. Covered in mud, he pushed himself up onto his knees, clenched his fists tightly, and released a mournful wail.

  Corin recognized his agony, for he had uttered such a cry on several occasions in his dismal lifetime.

  Tomes slumped forward, his arms supporting his upper body, mud squishing up between his fingers. Collapsed on the ground, bellow after bellow of anguish escaped him, his cries so intense they challenged the mighty thunder itself. His fit done, he assumed a sitting position and stared at Corin with a hate-filled look of determination.

  Corin moved closer, but he knew there would be no reasoning with him.

  Tomes looked the part of a madman with his light-brown hair plastered to his head and his breathing erratic.

  “I didn’t take her life, Tomes.”

  “Who else could it have been? All the evidence is there, von Vadim, and I found two puncture marks on her neck, left there by the fangs of a feeder of blood! What else but a monster would perform such a sickening, repulsive act of drinking a human’s blood?”

  “Yes. You’re right.” Corin arrived at the unexpected realization by fitting that fragment of information into the much larger picture. “There must be another.”

  “What?” Tomes asked, swallowing hard.

  “Could it be that I am no longer the only nightwalker residing in Hixton?” The wheels in Corin’s mind reeled at an alarming rate.

  “No! It can’t be. More of your kind? What’s to become of us all with such an infestation of filth overtaking Hixton?”

  “I’m different from you, Tomes, but I’m not filth,” Corin protested. “I was once mortal—human—living flesh and bone. I struggle daily with what I’ve become and what I must do in order to survive, but I’m no worm or maggot.”

  “That’s all a matter of opinion. I would rather be dead than become what you are. I couldn’t imagine drinking the blood of another creature—human or animal—in order to survive.”

  “You deplore us, but I think if you were to walk in my shoes for a time, you’d come to feel quite differently about our existence. The mortal man I once was, though a distant memory, would have upheld your same ideals. However, when I was turned, I developed a new understanding of life. Many call us cursed, and it’s true, we are cursed, but we’re still living, breathing creatures. Like it or not, we all share one thing—the natural instinct to survive and fight the reins of death. I only do what I’m cursed to do in order to accomplish this. All things must feed to survive.”

  “If you speak the truth, von Vadim, and there’s another nightwalker roaming our community, what you’re saying is that Louisa was nothing more than a quick feed?”

  “I know it sickens you to think of her taken in such an inhuman manner, and I’m truly sorry for your loss,” Corin condoled. “As for this new addition to our community, well, I’ll have to look into the matter and find out just what it is that’s found its way among us…and why. If this nightwalker turns out to be one from ages past, we might have a real fight on our hands.”

  “I thought all you monsters would stick together—wolves in a pack. You mean you would fight this creature?” Tomes questioned with surprise.

  “I fight for what’s mine regardless of who, or what, it is posing a threat,�
�� Corin replied. “The people here in Hixton, I consider them family. I knew your father, and your grandfather.”

  “You’ve only been in Hixton for what, a month? My father died more than ten years ago. How is it you knew my family?”

  “I’ve always been here. This is my home. I’ve been around a long, long time, Tomes. I’m more than five hundred years old. I’ve seen generations come and go.”

  “I do recall my father speaking of your uncle, Victor von Vadim, but never of you.”

  “But I am Victor von Vadim, and Nevin von Vadim before him.” Corin exposed his deepest secret.

  He had the ability to appear to age as any mortal man. After a sufficient lifespan had passed, Corin faked his death and returned to von Vadim Estate a lucky heir. He preferred to keep his given appearance, so he always chose a blood relation—a cousin, nephew, or grandchild—to impersonate. A resemblance would be expected and up to this point, the process had never failed. He took every precaution, choosing the appropriate times to make the vital exchanges, picking precise moments when there was the least risk of discovery.

  Being an immortal, time was his friend. The passing of years had a magical way of wiping away faces and memories, similar to erasing a picture on a blackboard and giving him a clean slate to start over again.

  “I understand that you’re immortal and don’t physically grow old, but it’s amazing how you don’t look any older than my age of twenty-six,” Tomes remarked. “So tell me, Corin, am I now going to die because of my newfound knowledge? Is this conversation with you going to be my last?”

  “I’m not going to kill you.” Corin squatted next to Tomes. The rain had slackened to a drizzle, and the lightning passed, rendered into distant rumbles of thunder. “Do you want to know why I hold on so dearly to this little town? It’s my refuge from affliction…an old friend. All creatures need a safe haven, and Hixton is mine. This land and I go back a long way. It holds my past, helps me remember that I was once transitory, and possessed all the frailties of a mortal man. Once, I walked in the warmth of the day and felt the weight of a soul within me, and I must never lose that vital part of myself—the human part. Without it, I become nothing more than a monster.”

  “And who exactly were you when you lived as this mortal man?” Tomes asked.

  “My given name is Luca…Luca von Vadim, son of Count Ramone von Vadim of Hungary. My father was an official there, a proud man of high position. When I was changed, I knew I couldn’t remain. I didn’t possess the control I now have, and I couldn’t bear the thought of being responsible for the fall of the von Vadim house. In order to save those I loved, I set out for the Americas, leaving all I knew behind. I settled here and started a new life. I was, in fact, the first non-native settler in this area—the true founder—long before it became Hixton. Although, I’m sure past records would not state that truth. I chose this area for the solitude and concealment it afforded. It was a massive forest, offering me adequate separation from the New World settlers. But I knew the solitude couldn’t last forever, and eventually they encroached upon my territory and built their homesteads. I soon found it difficult to hide and was forced to reinvent myself.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve been able to keep your identity secret for so long.”

  “In five hundred years of existing here, only a handful has ever come to know the truth. You are one of a very minute number, Tomes,” Corin replied. “Although, there is something different this time that leads me to wonder if the fates might have had a hand in your discovery.”

  “The fates….” Tomes sneered. “What is fate anyhow? And what does any of it matter? My Louisa’s gone, and life no longer matters. If you killed me now, it would be a blessing.”

  “You’ll find meaning again, in time. You can’t give up on life. Louisa wouldn’t want that.” Corin offered Tomes a hand and pulled him to his feet.

  “You sound like a shrink, von Vadim.”

  “Well, after the scene I’ve just witnessed, I’d say you could use a session or two,” Corin joked.

  Tomes offered no comeback.

  “Now, if we’re settled here, I should head out and search for this new arrival before another life is taken.”

  Tomes grabbed his arm. “Remember, Corin, the one who took the life of my wife is mine for the killing, and mine alone.”

  Corin nodded his understanding and vanished into the night on the mist of the wind.

  * * * *

  Tomes stood alone in the darkness, surrounded by the dead. He collapsed to his knees and continued to grieve. In the somber aftermath of the storm, the night creatures sang their songs to the sullen man and wept with him in his state of perpetual sorrow.

  He’d never forget Louisa, nor did he ever wish to. She’d meant the world to him, and losing her left him to question what life could ever offer him again. For no matter how much time might pass, he feared his heart would never heal. How could he continue without her? And with that dismal thought, he gave in to his sorrow and fell back in the muck. Tonight he would simply cry.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Murder at Jaffler Farm

  Sheriff Allen Pierson sat at his desk, thumbing through the case file of Louisa Jaffler. Now day two after the murder, he had to admit the investigation had stalled. He’d just received the medical examiner’s preliminary report, complete with the autopsy findings, but regrettably, the outcome hadn’t told him very much.

  A little after midnight on the night of the horrific crime, a 911 dispatcher transferred a call to the station from Angelique Jaffler—sister-in-law of the victim—who claimed Louisa Jaffler had been murdered. Upon notification, Sheriff Pierson headed straightaway to Hixton, where the Jafflers resided. At the junction of Old Denaud Road and the farm entrance, he spotted a patrol car. Officer Jake Strutherford waved him down with a flashlight.

  “I’ll show you to the site.”

  Sheriff Pierson followed him to the crime scene, just past the farm near a wood-line of tall, white pines. He pulled off behind two more patrol cars that were sitting off to the right side of the road with their lights flashing. Officer Bob Tanner stood several feet in front of one of the vehicles, in the direct path of the headlights, staring toward the woods as if paralyzed. The sheriff followed the officer’s gaze and realized what had made such an impact on him.

  “Dear Lord.” He’d not soon forget the heart-wrenching scene.

  A man sat on the ground, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms, cradling the victim’s lifeless body in his arms. His face devoid of emotion, he rocked her back and forth like a mother would a child.

  Officer Strutherford approached.

  “What do we know?” the sheriff asked.

  “Her name is Louisa Jaffler. That’s her husband with her. She was found by him and his sister.” The officer pointed out Angelique’s position and motioned for her to come over.

  Pierson turned his attention to her.

  “I’m Angelique Jaffler. Tomes is my brother. He’s been this way since we found her,” she told him, clutching a flashlight.

  “Has he said anything?” Pierson asked.

  “Only to go away. He refuses to let her go,” Strutherford answered as Officer Tanner joined them next to the SUV.

  The sheriff was worried that the husband might very well be in shock. “Did you call for an ambulance…EMS?”

  “George has them on standby,” Tanner pointed to another officer who appeared busy, on the phone in his patrol car. “Since she was already dead, we were waiting to get your input,” Bob explained.

  “Sorry Ms. Jaffler.” Strutherford apologized for Tanner’s bluntness.

  Tanner continued. “We knew you were on your way. And we’ll only need them for transport.”

  “I’m thinking of the husband. I think we’d better get some paramedics out here. Taking care of Mr. Jaffler is our priority right now.” He wasn’t sure how to properly handle this sort of psychological issue, and thought it best someone trained in the medical field tend t
o the delicate situation.

  “I’ll let George know,” Tanner headed toward the car.

  “Should we try to force him away from the scene?” Strutherford asked. “He’s disturbing the evidence.”

  “No. I don’t think so. Just leave him. We’ll wait on EMS. We certainly don’t want to cause more damage. It might take him some time to come to terms with what’s happened.”

  With no further delay, Sheriff Pierson made a call to the station, making arrangements to alert the only crime team at his disposal. That small group consisted of Forensics, which also covered bordering counties, and Dr. Jason Berg—head pathologist at Black River Falls Memorial Hospital, who also served as the county medical examiner. Jackson County had never needed a homicide division, but with this unexpected murder, it seemed that times had changed in their tranquil little area of the globe, and not for the better. For now, he’d ride solo and handle the investigative responsibilities himself.

  When his call was done, he instructed Officer Tanner to head over to the farm entrance and direct the paramedics to the crime scene when they arrived. In the meantime, he and the others kept a close watch on Tomes Jaffler, but left him to his grief. This was, after all, the young man’s wife lying dead in his arms. Pierson couldn’t imagine what Tomes was experiencing, he wouldn’t pretend to. But seeing him out there, suffering so cruelly, told him one thing—he was either very much in love or consumed by guilt.