Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night)

by Sherri Claytor

  “Hello,” she managed to say before her father, John, appeared in the room behind her. He rushed toward her as if intercepting her from some terrible danger.

  “I want you to go to your room, little miss.” He attempted to usher her away, but the visitor halted his attempt.

  “Wait.” The stranger knelt to her level and looked into her face. “What is your name?”

  “Angelique. But my brother, Tomes, he calls me Angel. I’m no angel though. Just ask my dad.” She looked up at her father.

  “I’d wager that he’d disagree,” the man replied with a laugh, brushing back a length of her long, dark hair that fell across her face. “I certainly couldn’t imagine an angel more lovely, not even in heaven.”

  “Who are you?” Angelique looked into his inky eyes.

  “I’m your neighbor. My name is Victor.”

  “You own the land next to ours?” She still held tightly to her book.

  “Yes, von Vadim Estate,” he replied, seeming amused by his conversation with her.

  “Don’t you like people?” she asked candidly.

  “Angelique!” her father interceded. “It’s rude to—”

  “No. It’s okay,” Victor assured him. “I may not be the most sociable person in the world, but I don’t dislike people.”

  “Then why do you try so hard to keep us all out? Your gate is always locked up with those big chains.”

  “That’s a very good question, my dear, and all I can say in my defense is that I’m a very private person. I’ve never been fond of company, although, after talking with you tonight, I might consider leaving the gate open once in a while, especially if I knew I’d be getting a visit from a new friend.”

  “You mean me?” Angelique asked with enthusiasm.

  “Yes, you.” He tickled her under the chin before rising to greet John who was noticeably agitated by his interaction with the child.

  “You’d better scoot on to your room now. Mr. von Vadim and I have business to discuss,” John instructed, rubbing Angelique’s head and sending her out of the room.

  “She’s a very special child,” von Vadim said.

  Angelique heard the remark from where she lingered just around the corner.

  “I consider us friends, Victor, you know that, but there will be no visits to the estate by my daughter. When it comes to my children, I draw the line.”

  “I understand. I’ve overstepped my boundaries, and I apologize.”

  Both men grew silent when a thud caught their attention. Angelique, having accidentally dropped her book, quickly scooped it up and rushed to her bedroom. It wasn’t like her to eavesdrop, but something drew her to Victor von Vadim. She just didn’t know exactly what that “something” was.

  At that point, the flashback ended and Angelique blinked several times to clear her vision. Squatting, she rubbed her temples where pressure had built, gathering her bearings. Now remembering Victor von Vadim, she couldn’t help wishing she’d known more about him. She presumed she’d never find the answers to the questions weighing on her mind—why she’d felt drawn to him. The man would forever remain a mystery. And her father. She didn’t understand why he’d forbade her and Tomes from stepping foot on von Vadim land when all the while he spent his days there—the estate overseer. She always suspected that something deceptive was amiss, but since both men had carried their secrets with them to their graves, all she had was suspicion.

  “Are you all right?” Corin bent in front of her, his face showing his concern.

  “I’m fine. Just a little dizzy. Perhaps from the long walk,” she lied, afraid he might think the flashback she’d just experienced was weird. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it herself.

  “I’ll get my car and drive you home,” Corin helped her stand.

  “No. I’ll be okay. I just need to sit down for a few minutes.”

  “Let’s get you inside, then.” He took her arm and assisted her to the front entrance. Wide and tall, it made her think of a gigantic mouth ready to swallow them whole.

  Corin opened the door and showed her into the foyer. She gasped upon first sight of the elaborate interior, grander than she’d imagined, more impressive inside than outside, lavished with fine natural stones and a number of tall marble columns. A mixed ivory and gray slate floor made the room appear to go on forever. Looking up beyond the second floor, centered on the third floor ceiling was the imprint of a very unique-looking emblem.

  “That must be your family crest.” She commented on the rearing winged lion that had what appeared to be a cross marking its chest.

  “Yes—strong, noble, and God-fearing—the von Vadim creed.”

  “Three very strong virtues to live up to.”

  “I suppose, but I’m proud of my ancestors and what they stood for.” He guided her to the sofa.

  “You should be. And where are you from originally?” She got comfortable.

  “I’m of Hungarian descent.”

  “But you’re blonde.”

  “It’s not unheard of for Magyars to have lighter coloring.”

  “Magyars?”

  “Hungarians.”

  “Ah. It must give you a real sense of completion, knowing your lineage so well. There’s no question of who you are and where you came from. I don’t think I could trace my family line beyond my grandparents.”

  “I’d be happy to help you do a little research if you’d ever care to tackle it.”

  “You might come to regret that offer,” she teased. “This house, though, it is amazing. All I expected it to be, and more.”

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t,” she replied, just as her cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” She pulled it from her back pocket and flipped it open, looking at the display before answering. “Yes, Tomes. What?” She was surprised to hear him babbling about wolves. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. Besides, I’m with Corin. He’ll see me home.” She smiled at Corin, pointing to the phone. “Yes, I’m with him now.” She couldn’t believe how angry Tomes got at the mention of Corin’s name. “I don’t want to argue with you right now. I’ll see you later,” she cut him off and ended the call.

  “Is everything okay?” Corin asked. “I take it Tomes is in a mood.”

  “He was letting me know he saw a wolf near the farm. One little animal and he’s ready to confine me to my quarters.”

  “A wolf?”

  “Not you too.”

  “He’s right, you need to be careful. You shouldn’t be going into the woods alone, especially at night.”

  “You two worry too much. Now, enough about the wolf, what do you say to a tour?”

  “Are you sure you’re feeling up to it? It’s a big house…more walking.”

  “I’m completely rejuvenated. And I’m not about to pass up this opportunity to see it.”

  “All right, then. It will be my pleasure to show the place off.”

  Corin led her from the living room to a smaller sitting room beyond, where from the clutter, it was easy to see he spent a lot of time.

  “How many rooms are there in the house?”

  “Including the library and scullery area, there are sixty-two rooms.”

  “You must get lost in here.”

  “Sometimes I do feel as though I’m wandering an endless maze.” Corin removed his black Stetson and tossed it on a nearby table, reviving his ash-blond hair with a pass of his long fingers.

  “Sixty-two rooms…wow! Who does your cleaning? Do you have a housekeeper…use a service?”

  “I have someone come in periodically to give the entire place a thorough go over, but otherwise, I maintain it myself. I prefer it that way. Besides, I only have to upkeep the areas I utilize.”

  “You expect me to believe that a single man of your means does his own cleaning?”

  “I do have skills, Angelique,” he smiled. “And I don’t use the whole house. With the exception of the library upstairs, I spend most of my time
on the main floor, so there’s not an awful lot to contend with. However, there are several rooms I avoid altogether.”

  “And what rooms would those be?”

  “The kitchen and scullery areas. I’m not much of a cook, I’m afraid.”

  “You have to eat.” Angelique giggled, unable to contain her laugh.

  His expression told her that he had no idea what, in their conversation, had suddenly amused her.

  “Honestly, Corin, who says scullery anymore?” She giggled again, finding herself feeling freer to speak her mind around him. “It makes me think of Cinderella. You know, from the fairytale. She was a scullery maid,” she explained, repositioning several long, dark tendrils of hair behind her ear. “But life’s no fairytale.”

  Corin continued with the tour, showing Angelique through the remainder of the first floor. She took in every inch of the place, admiring the décor of mixed eras, a treasure trove of valuables. The fascinating pieces showcased in every room ranged from furniture and art to breathtaking vases and fine collectibles—items of priceless value presumably passed down throughout the years from heir to heir. The estate was, after all, ages old.

  “Just a little proof that I’m a modern man.” He pointed out a desktop computer tucked away in one of the first floor rooms. “World Wide Web connected and all that jazz.”

  “Impressive. Although, I never accused you of being old fashioned. Besides, I might be a modern woman, but I have an old soul.”

  Corin looked into her eyes. “Something I can completely relate to.”

  Passing through a lengthy corridor, portraits adorned both walls—paintings and old photographs—leaving little vacant space between them. Angelique slowed her pace, studying the faces, stopping when she came upon a large photograph to her left. The man held an uncanny resemblance to Corin. If she hadn’t known it to be impossible, by the age of the individual in the picture—at least ten years Corin’s senior—she’d have sworn it was him.

  “The likeness,” she spoke under her breath. “It’s too much to ignore.”

  “My uncle, Victor von Vadim,” Corin told her.

  “This could be you in a few more years.”

  “Yes. We look a lot alike,” he remarked nonchalantly.

  “You certainly do.” Angelique’s gaze traced the man’s features, taken aback by several striking similarities.

  “I’d say he was nearing forty in this sitting. Handsome man, don’t you think?” Corin said with humor.

  Angelique smiled but never pulled her eyes away from the portrait.

  “Shall we move on?” Corin urged. “I’d like to show you the second floor library.”

  Angelique reluctantly followed, feeling unsettled by the photograph. It was more than just a mere resemblance between the subject of that portrait and Corin. Everything was all so exact, even down to the dimple marking Corin’s left cheek. And the thing alarming her the most were the eyes—those dark and piercing eyes—Corin’s eyes.

  The thoughts running through her mind were illogical and ridiculous, reminding her of the feeling she’d had when meeting Victor von Vadim all those years ago as a child. But she told herself that it was nothing more than a close family resemblance and pushed the troubling feeling aside.

  What other explanation could there be?

  * * * *

  Later that night, Corin fed. He hated taking nourishment from grazing cows, but they were the best alternative to human blood available, and readily attainable. Just as every other creature existing in the living world, he needed sustenance, and for him, that meant finding fresh blood.

  Black River Falls Memorial Hospital, where he’d been fortunate enough to treat himself to a pint of human blood from time to time, was no longer an option. The facility had suddenly heightened their security measures, making it much too risky for the steal. He, of course, had powers to assist him in accomplishing the theft, but it just wasn’t worth the chance of exposure. So for now, he would do without the occasional splurge and continue to satisfy his insatiable hunger with the blood of these mooing beasts. There were other options, but ones he chose not to pursue. Attacking innocent mortals for means of feeding was something he refrained from doing. He’d worked hard to conquer his cravings and hold the bloodthirsty monster at bay. He had no intention of backsliding now. It was crucial that he cling to whatever humanity there was remaining within him. His human part might have been the smallest part of him, but it was, without question, the most precious.

  Corin sank his fangs deep into the animal’s neck, drinking in the warm sustenance. In his haste to feed, a drop of blood trickled from the edge of his mouth and he quickly wiped it away. If nothing else, he was a well-mannered eater. He might have been partial monster, but he wasn’t devoid of etiquette.

  When he finished, Corin closed the bite-wound with a pass of his hand and sent the beast on its way. The moon dominating the sky was magnetic, the force of its pull further enriching him. Along with the revitalization from the blood he’d just ingested, it built his adrenaline beyond measure, stimulating the wildness stirring within him. He would have loved to change to animal form and run freely through the woods, but he had pressing matters to attend to…a town to protect.

  He headed for his Harley parked just outside the pasture fence-line running along a thick span of woods. Despite the fact that the boundary of woods cloaked the long running pasture in most areas, he hunched down as he moved across the field in the direction of his bike, just in case anyone should happen to be around.

  He generally had nothing to worry about, but it was a bright night, which prompted a little extra precaution on his part. Over the years, he’d come to learn the importance of keeping an eye out for the occasional hunter or landowner.

  Reaching the fence, he crossed the barbed wire and retrieved his motorcycle. With the fine weather, he enjoyed the open ride. Now sated, he was eager to get into town and do a little investigating. He wanted to make some inquiries, find out if any new residents might have moved in or around Hixton over the last few weeks. If he was dealing with a pup—a nightwalker of less than a hundred years—he knew the immortal might settle for just about any place offering protection from the daylight hours. On the other hand, he was more inclined to believe that the newcomer was an experienced nightwalker, maybe even an ancient—a nightwalker who’d been walking the earth for more than five hundred years. Corin was ancient, and like him, many of the older nightwalkers were wealthy. Having built their fortunes over many generations, they preferred elite estates with plenty of acreage capable of providing them the privacy and concealment they would require to keep their “condition” secret. These elders were the most powerful of his kind, making ruling out the new arrival an ancient his foremost concern.

  Von Vadim Estate was the only fine estate existing in the area, but there were alternatives—farms and ranches that might suffice as an acceptable second choice. First thing first, though. He had to start by conferring with a real estate agent. He just hoped he’d find someone working late in one of the offices. For a nightwalker, trying to conduct business after nightfall could be a real hassle. When everyone else was winding down, his kind was just waking for the night.

  * * * *

  All the while, up above the ever-dimming pastureland, the new arrival inconspicuously circled in the form of a black raven. When Corin left, he dove down, shape-shifting into his human form the moment he touched the ground.

  A Turk, walking the earth for nearly three hundred years, he was a force to be feared. Taking several steps, his ankle-length suede coat brushed his pants as he moved in a serpentine manner. His frame was long and lean, his black, shoulder-length hair blowing loose around his face. He cocked his head and sniffed the air. “You are immortal.” He rubbed one of ten amber buttons adorning his coat between his fingers. Each prized piece contained a trapped insect or arachnid that he could move with his touch.

  He’d seen Corin shape-shift from owl to human form while watching the girl at th
e creek, ran with him as a wolf in the woods, and now, he’d witnessed him feeding from the beasts of the field. Yes, Corin von Vadim was indeed a nightwalker.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  One Last Time

  “I need to get another door card for room 244. I’ve locked myself out.” Jordon Black had no guilt whatsoever over deceiving the front desk man at Black River Falls Inn. “I checked in earlier, I’m sure you remember.”

  Jordon had checked into the inn, but he’d been assigned room 131, not room 244, hoping the clerk didn’t recall that fact.

  “Thank you. I’ll be more careful this time.” Jordon took the card and hurried away.

  Finding room 244, he slipped inside and shut the heavy, blue door behind him. Scanning the room, he found it cold and musky, reeking of an offensive, overpowering odor. This stink he’d smelled many times before—a very distinctive mark of the killer he pursued.

  “You’ve been here all right.” The stink dissolved any doubt of the killer in Jackson County being the fugitive he was trailing. “But where are you now?”

  The room was clean, despite the odor, and no different from every other time the killer had chosen a motel room for refuge, the closet had been emptied and its contents tossed in a pile left of the wardrobe, supplying a makeshift coffin.

  Jordon scoured the room, finding no personal items. The wretch had already taken flight.

  He cursed. “You knew I was getting close.”

  The killer was smart, knowing not to linger in one place too long. And Jordon, the bloodhound that he was, kept the fiend on his toes. He would never give up the hunt. At some point, the manslayer would slip up, and when he did, Jordon would be right there to nab him.

  “I’m going to get you, rotter.” Jordon headed out the door. “One way or another, Nightwalker, I will eventually get you.”

  * * * *

  It was July twenty-third, a morning Angelique would never be able to drive from her memories. She and Tomes were laying Louisa to rest, and knowing he was agonizing over the thought of having to entomb his dead wife in the depths of the cold, dark earth made her sick to her stomach.