Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night)

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Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night) Page 15

by Sherri Claytor


  “I’m not sure. I don’t sense anyone, but I feel as though we’re being watched.”

  “Could it be the nightwalker?”

  “I don’t know. It could be nothing more than an animal eyeing us from a distance beyond my range of detection, but stay alert, just in case.”

  Corin grabbed the machete and moved on to the partially raised vaults. He pushed back each slab, peering down into the black caverns, finding them all undisturbed.

  “Another dead end.” Tomes frowned. “Despite the cliché—you know, vampires and coffins—looking here made perfect sense. I just wish it had panned out.”

  “Don’t get discouraged. We’ll just have to keep looking. He can’t hide forever.”

  “I can’t rest till we get him.”

  “We both have scores to settle.”

  Heading toward the gate, Tomes stopped and faced the newer section of the cemetery.

  “What is it?” Corin turned back.

  “I want to see Louisa’s grave while we’re here.”

  “I understand.” Corin shifted direction, guiding them through the maze of headstones and slabs.

  “No.” Tomes rushed toward the gravesite, discovering that someone, or something, had unearthed her grave. “What’s happened!” He peered into the dark cavity, shining the flashlight beam onto the casket. “The latch and seal’s been broken.” He slid into the hole and raised the lid. “This can’t be.” Louisa’s body was gone! “What the devil is happening?”

  “I never thought he’d go so far.”

  “What do you mean?” Discombobulated, Tomes’s voice was loud with outrage. “You can’t mean the nightwalker.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “What has he done? What has that mongrel done with her?” Tomes exploded, unable to control the rage boiling within him.

  “I’m so sorry, Tomes, but it looks like he’s brought her back.”

  “Brought her back?”

  “Yes, from the dead. Turned her…immortal,” Corin clarified.

  “No. This cannot be happening!” Tomes collapsed against the wall of earth, knocking dirt onto his head and shoulders. He didn’t know how much more torment he could stand.

  “God help her,” Corin spoke under his breath. “Nightwalker, what have you done?”

  * * * *

  It had been a busy night for Boldor, committing two murders—the first for food, and the second a necessity to guard his secret. He’d shared the fortuneteller’s vision and had no other option but to dispose of her before she had a chance to become an obstacle in his plan. Her gift was her downfall. She’d seen too much.

  His plot was coming together nicely, but he thought it wise to enlist a little aid. He needed someone to serve his needs when the sun was up, prompting him to drop in on the funeral director, Jerry Fulner. The man was lowlife, but his lack of morals and his greed made him the perfect choice.

  Working late in a back room of his small funeral home, Fulner, a man in his fifties, pudgy and balding, was embalming a corpse. It had arrived only hours before—a poor bloke in his forties, struck down in his prime by a massive heart attack. The director hovered over the naked body lying on the slab.

  “Director.” Boldor caught him unaware, speaking out from the shadows.

  “Boldor, I thought our business was complete.” Fulner’s voice quivered. “I didn’t embalm the girl, just as you’d instructed.”

  “I’m well aware of that.” Boldor stepped out of the shadows and snaked across the room, his eyes glancing over the corpse.

  “Rather disgusting job.” He ran a finger along the embalming tube.

  “Someone has to do it. It might as well be me.”

  “True. Are we alone?” He knew the director employed two men, one tended the gravesites and the other performed the cosmetology work, since beautifying the dead wasn’t one of Fulner’s strong suits.

  “I work alone at night. I prefer to take care of cremations and embalming after hours.”

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here. I want to propose another deal…a more permanent arrangement this time.”

  “What sort of deal?”

  Fulner appeared afraid, but Boldor suspected his greed would overpower his fear.

  “You know what I am, Director. And with circumstances what they are, I may require assistance during the daylight hours. I need to have someone at my disposal.” Boldor trailed his long index nail across the corpse’s chest leaving a cut behind. He looked into the director’s face with a cold, piercing stare. “You will be paid quite generously for your services.”

  “So I take it you’re planning on sticking around, then?”

  “I believe I will.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Bravery’s a real achievement for you, Director, but I’d suggest you think twice before refusing me,” Boldor warned in a low, chilling voice.

  “Hold on. I didn’t say I was refusing,” Fulner quickly clarified. “What kind of payment are we talking about?”

  “A thousand per week for now…more later. And I’ll need you to continue here as undertaker, even though I’m sure you’d jump at a chance to rid yourself of this miserable profession.” Boldor stroked a button on his coat as he talked, waking the trapped insect sleeping within. “In addition, it’s imperative you maintain control of the local cemetery.”

  “I enjoy running my business. I’m proprietor, mortician, and director of my own parlor. I wouldn’t want to give it up.”

  “That’s why you’ll make the perfect collaborator. You’re accustomed to dealing with the dead…even take pleasure in it. And you’ve proven you don’t mind getting your hands dirty.”

  “How does the cemetery fit into your plans?”

  “Let me just say, you never know what might arise.”

  Fulner swallowed hard. “You don’t mean more vampires?”

  * * * *

  At the cemetery, Corin grabbed Tomes’s hand and pulled him out of the grave.

  “What has he done to her?” Tomes squeezed his head in an attempt to control the building pressure.

  “He’s turned her, Tomes, but the chance of her transformation being a successful one is slim. Such foolhardy and risky attempts rarely are… something any sound-minded nightwalker would know.”

  “What do you mean?” Tomes didn’t want anything held back, no matter how hard it might be to hear.

  “You have to understand, because of the autopsy, her body would have had to undergo extensive repair. The more injury there is to heal during transformation, the longer it takes, and the less mentality of the former self remains when the change is complete. The infected body draws energy from the mind as it is turned,” Corin explained.

  “You’re saying she won’t know who she was?”

  “Not only that, but she might very well be mad. There’s a fine line between the monster we subdue within us and the human part remaining of the person we were in life. And in Louisa’s case, I’m afraid she may turn out to be more monster than human. I’ve seen it happen before.”

  “Did you have any idea he might do this?”

  “I had a suspicion,” Corin confessed. “Louisa wasn’t attacked in the same brutal fashion as the second victim, and now the third. I can only assume he wanted to preserve her beauty, not considering that an autopsy would be performed.”

  Tomes release his anger on a tree standing near the open grave before kicking at the mound of dirt, sending a showing of rock and sand into the cavity. “I don’t know how much more I can take.” He leaned forward to calm himself. “Why didn’t you warn me? We could have stopped this from happening.”

  “What would you have done? Staked her in her grave?”

  “To save her from this hell…yes!”

  “Maybe you’re right. But I never dreamt he’d still attempt a transformation knowing she’d undergone that autopsy. He was crazy to think the change could be successful, knowing the strain even a healthy body must endure. Sometimes it’s j
ust too late, too much damage. He’s taken a great gamble on what he’ll end up with, not to mention the agony he’s put Louisa through.”

  “I can’t stand this,” Tomes pressed his face into his hands. “He has to die…I have to kill him.”

  “I’m sorry if that sounded insensitive. I don’t mean to be so blunt about all of this, but you must prepare yourself.”

  “No, it’s okay. I want to know the truth, no matter what.”

  “When the sheriff came by the estate, he asked me if she had been ill. He said there were some irregularities in her blood work.”

  “It was the virus. And that’s what they’ll eventually surmise it to be—an unidentified virus. It’s our curse…what changes us.”

  “Why didn’t the doctor who performed the autopsy know she was still alive?”

  “She wasn’t. The attacking virus carried her beyond the brink of death. She died before being reanimated as an immortal—the living dead,” Corin explained. “With all the risk, I still can’t believe he did it. I’ve never encountered another quite like him. He’s a real devil.”

  “And now he has Louisa.” Tomes choked back emotion. “At the funeral, she looked so peaceful…beautiful. Angel and I were amazed by her appearance.”

  “You saw her?”

  “I had the funeral director open the casket. I wanted one last look before she was gone forever.”

  “And he opened it? Going through transformation, when the top was raised and her flesh was exposed to the sunlight, it should have burnt her.”

  “Besides having the shade from the tree, we were under a partially enclosed tent. But before opening the casket, the funeral director lowered a third flap. It was dim. There was no direct sunlight. Thinking back now, he acted so strange…reluctant.” Tomes was struck with a sudden realization. “He knew, didn’t he?”

  “It certainly seems so. The funeral director must be working for the newcomer. That explains why Louisa was never embalmed, and therefore, able to be changed.”

  “What do you mean she wasn’t embalmed?” The thought had never crossed Tomes’s mind.

  “Her transformation would never have been possible if she had been.”

  “I should have known something wasn’t right. Her scar lines were barely visible. She should have been all marked up from the autopsy. I just didn’t want to see it.”

  “You can’t blame yourself, Tomes. You couldn’t have known.”

  “She was like an angel lying so peaceful in that casket,” Tomes remembered. “Isn’t there a chance she might be okay?” He wanted to believe Louisa would once again be the woman he’d known and loved.

  “There’s always a chance. And by what you’ve said about her appearance, her body seemed to have been doing a good job of regenerating itself. But as for her mind, well, that will be the determining factor, something we won’t know until we find her.”

  “When do you think he took her from her grave?”

  “Very recent. It looks like he just called her forth and claimed her tonight.”

  “What do you mean ‘claimed her’?” Tomes didn’t care for the way Corin had linked those words together.

  “They are now joined. By blood. She’s now part of him.”

  “Are you saying that if by some miracle she survived her transformation, she’ll still never come back to me?”

  “We all have our own will, influenced by both our past and present identities, but our ties with our creators are strong. Only death will ever completely sever it. There is no escaping the bond, but distance helps, and with time, the pull does lessen. However, the fact that he has made her immortal, tying her to him, is something we can never change.”

  “He had designs on her from the very beginning…wanting her as a companion?” Tomes hated the thought of Louisa being trapped by the nightwalker.

  Corin diverted his eyes, the silence telling Tomes all he needed to know. The horror his life had turned into was unfathomable. How would he ever survive this, knowing his wife had been brought back to life only to be joined with someone other than himself? Regardless of the circumstances, mortal or immortal, he couldn’t accept it. And looking down on the empty casket, he vowed to do whatever it took to save her from that vile nightwalker, even if it meant ending both their lives.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A Surprise Visit

  “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by so late.” Sheriff Pierson stepped into Patricia’s room.

  “No, I’m glad you’re here,” her voice was drowsy.

  “How are you feeling?” He took a seat next to her bed.

  “The pain medication is doing an admirable job, but it leaves me fuzzyheaded. Tell me about the investigation. How’s it going?”

  “Forensics is still gathering evidence. It’s not a speedy process.”

  “You look tired. You could use some rest.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about me. I’m just fine,” he assured her.

  Patricia pushed herself up into a more comfortable position. “I wish I were home in my own bed.”

  “You’ll be heading home before you know it.” Pierson repositioned her pillows. “I’ve been meaning to ask, how would you feel about joining me one night for dinner and a movie when you get back on your feet? It’s been years since I’ve been to a movie. We’re not too old for that, are we?”

  “Absolutely not. It sounds wonderful. That gives me a goal to work toward.”

  “It’s a plan then.” Pierson sat down.

  “Dr. Krieger, my neurologist, wants to monitor me over the next forty-eight hours, but I’m hoping he’ll let me go tomorrow. It’s just standard procedure after this type of head trauma. He’ll be around again in the morning and I’m sure I’ll get a favorable prognosis.”

  “Are you getting everything you need?”

  “I’m being well cared for. Ann’s here. And I am the hospital administrator, so the staff’s been showering me with plenty of special treatment.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Allen, about my attacker, the more I think about it, the more certain I am of it being the blood thief from the surveillance tape.”

  “His features weren’t detectible,” Pierson reminded her.

  “It was the outline of a long coat. Something tells me it was him. Maybe we could take another look at the tape.”

  “I’ll get it, but I’m afraid the police lab wasn’t able to clean it up much. They proposed the subject to be a thin-framed male, standing at an approximate height of five feet ten, having dark-brown or black shoulder-length hair—an obvious deduction. And the pendant, they ascertained it to be a large, dark-colored gemstone, confirming what we’d already concluded ourselves.”

  “If that’s the best clean up job those tech experts can manage, maybe they ought to be cleaning with brooms instead.”

  Pierson laughed. “You might be right.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about it. What could he want all of that blood for?”

  “God only knows. It’s like the ‘Twilight Zone’ has settled over the county.” Sheriff Pierson remembered the evidence he’d brought with him and pulled it out. “Before I forget, I want to show this to you. We found it at the crime scene. Have you seen it before?” He held the bag containing the watch in front of her.

  “No. I haven’t. Do you think it’s his?”

  “It’s very likely.” Pierson turned the piece over and showed her the back.

  “There’s an inscription, For my prince of the night. Miralanya.”

  “Romantic. And a lovely name—Miralanya.”

  “But not very common.”

  “True. I can’t say I’ve ever heard it before. It’s unique.”

  “I have Rudy checking for any county matches. He’s pretty topnotch when it comes to all that hi tech know how. Hopefully, he’ll come up with something. There’s a lot riding on this find. We need a solid lead. The people are counting on me for answers—good ol’ Sheriff Pierson.”

  “Jus
t be careful out there. The man who attacked me, and killed Jessica, he was sinister…pure evil.”

  “Making it a dire situation. The devil walks among us. No one will be safe until he’s caught.”

  * * * *

  Corin and Tomes slipped, unseen, to the back door of the funeral home. Peeking through a small glass insert centered in the upper portion of the door, Tomes could see the director in the room.

  “He’s working on a body,” he whispered to Corin, reaching for the doorknob and slowly turning it. “It’s unlocked.”

  “Good. Let’s pay him a visit, then.”

  Tomes nodded, counted to three, and threw the door open. Both men barreled into the room, sending Fulner stumbling back from the slab, grabbing his chest as if they’d nearly given him a heart attack.

  “Surprise, surprise.” Tomes sang.

  Corin took a stance behind him.

  “Mr. Fulner, isn’t it?” Tomes could tell the undertaker was trying not to show fear.

  “That’s right, Mr. Jaffler. Jerry Rinnert Fulner. Are you here about the funeral? I thought you were satisfied with our services.”

  Tomes’s eyes narrowed. “Services never performed, I believe that is more accurate.”

  “I’m sure you know why we’re here, Mr. Fulner.” Corin stepped forward, staring him down. “Do you know who I am?”

  “No. I d-don’t b-believe so, sir,” Fulner stuttered, grasping the edge of the slab for support.

  “I am one of them.”

  “Corin—” Tomes interceded, afraid Corin was going to reveal his secret.

  Corin held up his hand, halting Tomes. “It’s okay. Mr. Fulner has a right to know with whom he’s dealing.”

  “And who am I dealing with?” Fulner asked.

  Instead of giving a verbal answer, Corin shape-shifted into a large, white wolf. He snarled at the man, his canine face and neck enhanced with a hint of brown detail.

  “I believe you’ve made your point.” Tomes watched wide-eyed as Corin took back his human form. Amazed by the metamorphosis, he wondered why immortals were granted these magnificent capabilities.

 

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