Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night)

by Sherri Claytor

  “Oh, he’s just exaggerating a bit to create interest…draw in readers. Besides, you can’t go arresting Mr. Phillips just for writing something you don’t care for. He has a little thing called ‘freedom of speech’ on his side. ‘Freedom of press’ backing him.”

  “Maybe so. But he’s a poor reporter in my opinion. I don’t hold much regard for someone who grabs his moments of fame at the expense of others.”

  “If it helps any, Sheriff, I know you’re no buffoon. And you have to keep in mind, this is probably the biggest story they’ve had to report on in years. You can bet they’re going to exploit the situation…play it for all its worth. You’d best brace yourself for more.”

  “Oh, I know. The media can be a nightmare.” He slapped the paper down in front of him. “The whole lot…they give me hives.”

  “You have an allergy to them, huh?” Ms. Watson laughed.

  “I guess I do, especially this joker.” He couldn’t help but think she was flirting with him.

  Ms. Watson laughed again and this time there was no mistaking her flirtatious response. She reached his way and lightly placed a hand on his sleeve. “You’re not at all what I would have expected, Sheriff Pierson,” she remarked.

  Her fingertips grazed his wrist, generating a surge that caused him to shift in his seat. It had been a long time since he’d been so captivated. The information came rattling over the fax machine and she got up to retrieve it, breaking the mounting tension.

  “Well, we have plenty of type O blood.” She glanced over the pages. “And just as I suspected, I’m afraid there’s not much to report. You can take this.” She handed him one of two sheets. “It shows the deposits we had yesterday…not many. They all came from our outpatient facility in preparation for upcoming surgery and none match that blood type.”

  “I guess it’s back to the drawing board.” He reached for his hat. “You know, if I keep coming up empty-handed, I might just have to adopt Mr. Phillip’s ideas and look into doing a little vampire research of my own,” he said, prompting her to laugh once more. “I really do appreciate your cooperation, Ms. Watson, and I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”

  “Patricia,” she told him as she got up to see him out. “And you?”

  “Allen,” he responded. “Let me know what comes of your ‘withdrawal’ problem. You can reach me at the station.”

  “I’ll do that. And, Allen, here’s my business card, just in case you find you’ve forgotten something.”

  She leaned into him in a manner he thought very seductive.

  “I work Monday through Friday, eight to five most days,” she whispered and pointed to the exit.

  He took her card, wishing the timing was better. He would have loved to ask her out to dinner. But in the midst of a murder investigation, he had to keep his focus on his work.

  “I’ll hold onto this.” He slid the card in his pocket. “And thank you again Ms. Wa—”

  “Patricia.” She caught him mid-word.

  Pierson nodded. “Patricia.”

  Glancing back as he left, he noticed that she continued to watch him, and smiled. The ol’ dog’s still got it going on.

  He headed for the parking lot, climbed into his SUV, and scanned the report again, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. But nothing on the page had any bearing on the case.

  Having hit a dead end there, he decided to head over to the newspaper office to track down Mr. Terry Phillips. The newspaper journalist was just a little too well informed, and that made him a person of interest in his book. It wasn’t much of a lead, but it was something, and he intended to follow every avenue available.

  He’d leave no stone unturned.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Angelique

  Angelique Jaffler took woodland walks each evening at twilight. Corin often followed her, lurking like a phantom in the cover of the trees. If he hadn’t been a nightwalker, damned with his infernal curse, he would have chosen her to share his life.

  Angelique, blessed with a smooth olive complexion and long, dark hair falling in fine strands along the sultry curve of her back, was lovely in beauty and heart. Her hazel eyes were mesmerizing, ever changing with the kaleidoscope of colors they absorbed from the environment.

  Since becoming aware of another nightwalker roaming the area, Corin refused to take any chances with her safety. Even though he knew she could never be his, he still couldn’t let go of the dream. He’d developed an unexpected affection for her—a fondness that had grown into what he now feared was love. Although it was unlikely she’d ever know of his feelings, she would always be the angel of light in his world of darkness.

  Over the years, Corin had remained conscious of those living in his vicinity. He’d watched Angelique blossom from a child into a stunning young woman. He’d met her only twice face to face, once recently in his present identity, and the other, years before while making a call on her father at the farm when she was in her youth. During that period, he was under the persona of Victor von Vadim, who Angelique and Tomes knew to be Corin’s deceased uncle. Their father, John Jaffler, had worked for him at the estate, but kept his family distanced. Even though they shared a friendship, John did not allow him to become acquainted with his children, something Corin had respected. His children’s well-being was of the utmost importance to him, first and foremost in his life, as it should be.

  Corin had decided it was time to transition into his current persona a month earlier and he’d reinstated himself an heir—a lucky nephew of Victor. John was part of a life he’d now left behind, but his friend’s spirit lived on in his children. Angelique possessed many of his great qualities. There were so many things Corin loved about her, but one chief attraction was the way she embraced the night, venturing out each evening just at the brink of dusk. Was she searching for something only found in the sunless hours, or was that just his fantasy?

  The path she took led to a shallow creek where she stopped at the water’s edge. Corin followed as a Great Horned Owl, the large nocturnal predator one of his favorite forms. Landing in a tree about ten yards away, his razor-sharp talons clasped a limb, offering him a steady perch.

  A near-full moon commanded the sky, its light shimmering on the water’s surface. He soaked in the sight of her, careful not to reveal his presence, wanting oh so desperately to capture just a small inkling of her pure, enticing essence—her beautiful soul. How he longed to touch her. Forced to admire her from afar, he gazed at her while she slipped off her sandals and stepped into the shallow water. Kneeling down, the hem of her sheer summer dress danced with the current.

  With all the instincts of the large bird whose form he’d claimed, Corin cocked his head to the side at the unexpected crunch of underbrush in the woods behind Angelique. She looked back at the large trees and vines masked in shadows. He sensed her fear, but couldn’t go to her without compromising himself.

  Being immortal, he possessed a keen awareness of other creatures around him, yet he was unable to see anything—man or animal. Perplexed, he scanned the area. Someone or something was out there.

  Desperate to protect her, and having no time to grapple over the risk of discovery, Corin was forced to make a decision. Quickly devising a course of action, he leapt from his perch and took flight, his massive wings beating the air, rampant in his urgency to get to her. The tree limb rocked in his wake. Well out of view, he dove through the trees and landed on the woodland floor where he shape-shifted into his human form.

  “Who’s there?” Angelique called out. “I know someone’s there.”

  Hearing the distress in her trembling voice, he wished he’d assumed the shape of a smaller animal. Corin stepped out of the cover of the woods and revealed himself. Angelique’s safety was all that mattered.

  “Why hello. You probably don’t remember me,” he said. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

  “Corin von Vadim?” she inquired with surprise. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  “
I apologize for alarming you. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “You just startled me. What are you doing out here, so far from the estate?”

  “I thought this was my estate.”

  “I meant from the mansion,” she clarified. “It’s quite a walk.”

  “I suppose it is, but it’s a nice night. I was following the property line, getting a feel for the land. I believe our properties connect right here, along this very creek bed.”

  “That’s right, but you seem to be standing on the wrong side,” she pointed out.

  “A little detail I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

  “I see.” Angelique flashed a smile.

  The smell of lavender cascading from her stimulated an arousal he fought to keep suppressed, finding it hard not to act on his impulses when she was so close. But, sweet and luscious as she was, he reminded himself that she was off limits—forbidden fruit.

  “To tell you the truth, I really didn’t expect to run into anyone out here, not at this time of evening. Acquainting myself with the land, I’m finding there’s a lot of it to cover.”

  “More than two thousand acres,” she replied. “I guess you’ve been here about a month now, so, what do you think of our small part of the world?”

  “It already feels like home,” he said, not able to tell her he’d actually resided there for hundreds of years. “This is a nice section of the creek. I believe it’s my favorite part of the property.”

  “I’ve been coming here since I was a little girl. It’s so serene. I love the way the meadow runs along the creek on the other side…your side. It’s a beautiful view.”

  “Yes, it is. Absolutely beautiful,” he agreed, but not referring to the landscape.

  “And you’re welcome to take a walk on my side anytime,” he added with a devilish grin.

  She looked away and twirled a strand of hair around her finger, the demure gestures telling him she’d caught the double entendre.

  With her focus momentarily off him, Corin seized the opportunity to scan the woods around them. He didn’t detect any other presence, but he couldn’t be sure that whoever, or whatever, it was out there with them only minutes prior was now gone.

  “Is there something wrong?” Angelique caught him looking around. Faint howls of crying wolves rode on the wind.

  “No. Everything’s fine,” he replied nonchalantly, not wanting to alarm her. “That doesn’t frighten you, knowing there are wolves nearby?”

  “I hear one from time to time, but I don’t worry much about them. What few wolves we have remaining keep to the denser areas,” she told him.

  “I was thinking, if you don’t mind, I’d like to walk you home…see a bit of Jaffler land.”

  “It’s a long walk from the farmhouse back to the estate. Are you sure?”

  “What’s a few acres more?” he teased. “The truth is I’d love the company.”

  “In that case, I must accept.”

  On their walk, Angelique reminded Corin of their first meeting on the night of his arrival in Hixton a month earlier. She confessed being tempted to pay him a visit at the estate, but that she’d decided against it, thinking their unplanned encounter hadn’t acquainted them enough to warrant visiting him at his home.

  As they approached the farmhouse, Tomes rose from the shadows of the wide porch stretching across the front of the structure. His gaze fell on Corin, staring him down. Corin felt the burn of his scrutiny and knew Tomes wanted to tear his head off for daring to come near his sister.

  “What are you doing out with this guy, Angel?” Tomes demanded.

  “Tomes, honestly, he just walked me home,” Angelique answered.

  “I don’t want you seeing him…not him!”

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you have no say when it comes to who I choose to spend time with. I’m not going to let you dictate who I can and can’t see,” she countered. “We may live under the same roof, but I’m a grown woman.”

  “You don’t know what I know, Angel,” Tomes argued.

  Corin realized Tomes wanted to elaborate further, to make her understand.

  “I think you should leave.” Tomes shifted his focus back to Corin.

  “Tomes! Don’t be so rude!” Angelique scolded. “Corin, I apologize for my brother.”

  “It’s okay,” Corin assured her, passing Tomes a firm look. “Besides, I’d best be going.” He let the matter slide, not wanting to upset Angelique any further.

  “Thank you for the company.”

  “I should thank you for walking me home. I hate to own up to it, but I did get a little scared out there tonight. I sure was relieved when I saw you.”

  “What happened, Angel?” Tomes asked with concern.

  “Your sister just got a little spooked, that’s all,” Corin told him. “Although, for the time being, you should try and dissuade her from going out into the woods alone after nightfall. It isn’t safe.”

  Ending their conversation on that note, he bid them goodnight and retreated into the darkness.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Marshal Jordon Black

  Jordon Black sat in a booth at the Black River Falls Diner poking at the remains of his roast beef sandwich and fries. He pulled a newspaper article from his inside coat pocket and spread it out on the table. His bluish-gray eyes skimmed over the words. He circled several names of interest, stopping and looking up when a waitress appeared with his check.

  “Where might I find the local Sheriff’s Office?” he inquired.

  “The police station is on Chester Street…two lights up.” She pointed out the direction. “Just take a right when you pull out of here, and then take a left on Chester. It’s about a half mile from there, on the left.”

  Jordon had been with the U.S. Marshals Service for ten years, part of a special division established in association with the FBI in pursuit of the most dangerous individuals—the worst of the worst. He’d spent the last two years hot on the trail of a killer, and that continuing hunt had now led him to Jackson County, Wisconsin—a tranquil region of several close-knit, small towns. He took pride in his tracking expertise and was positive that the recent murder victim named in the article lying before him—Louisa Jaffler—was yet another of the many unfortunate souls left in the wake of his fugitive’s killing spree. There were several instances when he’d come close to nabbing the monster, but the killer had proved himself to be of unusual intelligence and had slipped through his fingers each time.

  In his mid-forties, Jordon was dauntless. Not at all the stereotypical image one might have of a Deputy U.S. Marshal. His predominantly brown hair held a scattering of gray. Long and untamed, he kept it pulled back and leashed behind him with a strap. He didn’t own a suit, more comfortable outside the office, chasing down the bad guys. More often than not, his work attire consisted of worn jeans and cowboy boots. But just so no one could say he wasn’t professional, he’d toss on a dress coat.

  Gathering his things, he left a tip on the table and headed for the register to pay his bill. His Lucchese boots made a dull thud each time they struck the solid wood floor as he strode across it in a manner that told the world just how confident and determined a man he was.

  Following the waitress’s directions to the station, he arrived in mere minutes, parked, and went inside. Two officers talked behind a chest-high counter.

  “I’d better get going.” One officer got up to leave.

  “I’ll see you later, Bob,” the other man said, and then turned toward Jordon.

  “Good day, officer. I’d like to see the sheriff in regard to the recent murder.”

  “Sheriff Pierson is out right now,” the officer, whose nametag read ‘Chuck Gantt,’ informed him. “Hold on and I’ll take a message.” He pulled a pencil from over his ear, breaking the lead the instant it touched the paper. “Dagnabbit,” he fumbled for something else to write with, making a total mess of the paperwork on the counter.

  J
ordon, thinking the officer to be a simpleton by his appearance and clumsy actions, proceeded to pump him for information.

  “So, Chuck,” Jordon spoke as if he’d known the man his whole life. “I read about the murder…hear it happened nearby, in Hixton, I believe.”

  The man bit the first line he threw.

  “Yeah, that’s right, over at Jaffler Farm—the family raises thoroughbreds. The victim lived there with her husband and sister-in-law.”

  The officer blabbed away without the least bit of caution, having no idea who Jordon was. It apparently hadn’t occurred to him to ask, proving Jordon’s initial impression to be an accurate one.

  The young man continued, “They found her body just past the farm entrance on Old Denaud Road, at the edge of the woods. We assume she was taking a late night walk when the killer attacked her. However, there’s some dispute on that theory.”

  “Dispute by whom?”

  “The husband,” the officer told him. “He claimed she never took walks after nightfall. To quote his exact words, ‘she was afraid of the dark…never went out alone after the fall of night’.”

  “Really?” Jordon raised his eyebrows in interest. “Afraid of the dark?”

  “That being the case, you can’t help but wonder what led her out on that road all alone and so late at night. It just doesn’t fit.”

  “It sure doesn’t,” Jordon agreed. “Tell me, Chuck, were there any witnesses to the murder?” he pressed.

  “Not a one. I personally don’t know what to make of it. The poor girl’s blood was drained, leaving her body blue as a dismal sky…or so I heard.”

  Jordon suppressed a laugh. Chuck wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. He could have been the killer, and this nitwit would have been none the wiser.

  “Did you happen to know the family?” Jordon asked.

  “No, can’t say I did. You’d have better luck with that inquiry over in Hixton.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Confident he’d learned all he could from Officer Chuck, Jordon was ready to head out. “Think you could you pen me some directions?”