Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night)

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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

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.”