Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night) (19 page)

“God help this child
.”

With eyes
fixed on the cards, she fell into a trance-like state, overcome by a vision. Two beasts faced off in a great hall adorned with precious metals and fine jewels, one light in color, and the other dark. The hands and mouth of the dark monster, smeared with blood, revealed him a savage killer. Sharing a connection with him, Madam Monicca could taste the blood in her own mouth and feel his insatiable thirst for more.

Monstrous roars echoed as the two beasts turned on each other, engaging in a
fierce battle. During this time, a young, dark-haired woman appeared in the hall, dressed in a pure white gown, a representation of innocence walking blindly into the midst of evil.

The monsters ceased fighting upon sight of her and backed away, allowing her
free passage between them. Each beast crouched low to the ground in the manner of bowing to royalty. But then, with no rhyme or reason, their actions suddenly changed, and they turned into hunters stalking prey. Much like a naïve lamb wandering through the blood-strewn gate of a slaughterhouse, she was heedless of the danger. However, before either had a chance to lunge, an apparition of a large wolf appeared at her side, protecting her from attack.

“I am not afraid,” the young woman told the apparition, placing her right
hand on its back and fading away with the phantom.

The hall grew dark—a pit of doom. The monsters bellowed and resumed their
fight, the clamor so intense that the structure fissured, raining down dust and stone in its collapse. Growing fainter and fainter, the scene then faded, and the vision ended.

Madam Monicca dropped her head on the table, physically and mentally
drained by the episode. She hated the unsettling trepidation that always followed such prognostic visions, but it was a gift she’d been born with and not something she could switch off at will.

“Dear child, I must find you…warn you of the dark one I’ve just foreseen.”

The sound of a customer walking in prompted her to lift her head. Her pale-colored eyes grew wide, falling on the tall, dark form of a man coming toward her. Only this was no ordinary man.

“The dark monster,” the words escaping on a whisper.

“You see too much, witch.”

Madam Monicca released one horrifying shriek before he reached her, and
then all grew silent. Dead silent.

Chapter Twelve

The Staker

“I’m sure this could come in handy.” Gordy turned the contraption over to
Tomes. “A reengineered, battery-operated nail gun, along with wooden nails custom made from blackthorn, just as you specified. Now, be serious, what in the world do you plan on doing with the thing?”

“Believe me, it’s better you don’t know.”

“You’re probably right, especially if it’s something illegal. But, I’m paid, so it’s all good. Be careful though, that thing has some real force behind it. The way it fires them nails out, they’d cut right through someone.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.” Tomes was even more pleased with the item
after hearing it had the potential to be lethal. “How many nails will it hold at a time?”

“It’ll hold eight.”

“You do fine work, Gordy. Real fine work. When can you have some more of these blackthorn nails ready for me?”

“You have fifty there.”

“Well, I’m going to need another fifty,” Tomes informed him.

“I’ll see what I can do. I may have enough blackthorn left to do one more
batch. Just keep in mind, this stuff isn’t easy to come by, so you’d best not waste ‘em.”

“I hear you. And the second batch, you think you can have them ready by
tomorrow?”

“Jeez, Tomes, nothing like laying the pressure on,” Gordy griped. “But if it
can’t wait, I guess I can have Carl work on it. He’s pretty good with the machine.”

“Great.” Tomes acted as if his demands were no bother at all. Of course, he
and Gordy had been friends for a long time—since they were children.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you how sorry I am about missing Louisa’s funeral.
It couldn’t be helped. Are you holding up okay?”

“The best any man could after such a blow. I have Angelique, and the farm.”

“Tell your sister hi for me.”

“I’ll do that.” Tomes turned when the bell on the door alerted them of a customer. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Drop by tomorrow, sometime after two. The nails should be ready.”

“Thanks for doing this, Gordy.”

The man pretended to be shocked by his gratitude.

“Very funny.” Tomes waved him off, heading out with his new weapon in hand.

Since he and Corin had made no headway in locating the nightwalker’s lair,
catching the immortal unaware in a daytime staking wasn’t likely. But with armament, he now had the means to face the monster at night, and maybe even live through it to see another day. The nails wouldn’t kill him, but Tomes was optimistic, anticipating the blackthorn would weaken him. He could then finish the newcomer off by the most error-proof means of death for a nightwalker—decapitation. So, with this devil it would be off with his head!

Following Louisa’s murder, Tomes had grown obsessed with researching
nightwalkers. He’d spent hours on end roaming the Internet, discovering all he could about the creatures. He never could have imagined how many types and races of vampires actually existed in the world. Still, regardless of race, status, or power, when it came right down to it, they were all nothing more than soulless, blood-sucking monsters.

The information he’d dug up from the far reaches of the World Wide Web,
and a few other unexpected places, he’d compiled in a green expandable folder. He kept it tucked away in the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling it out every available chance in his preoccupation with the material. Educating himself—learning the nightwalkers strengths and weaknesses—would give him a greater chance of success when it came time to face the nightwalker.

Tomes had been lucky enough to make contact with a professor of mythology,
Dr. Nathanial Roberts, one night while checking out a new chat room he'd come across. He was unquestionably a believer in vampires and all things paranormal. There was something in his manner of speech that had led Tomes to trust him. He seemed to possess first-hand knowledge of the creatures.

Discovering the professor lived less than three hours from Hixton, Tomes had
set up a meeting, glad that the many hours he’d spent hunched behind his eye-boggling seventeen-inch screen had finally paid off. He needed guidance in the matter of facing his vampire foe, and Dr. Roberts was just the expert to give it.

Tomes’s mental image of the man was spot on. Of later years, with bushy
white hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and black wire-framed glasses resting midpoint on a slender nose, the professor invited him to have a seat at a table in the dining room. The doctor passed along some very insightful information during their lengthy, in-depth conversation regarding walkers of the night. They’d put their heads together and voilà, a new weapon was born—a device Tomes decided to call the “staker.” Luckily, Tomes had the means to make it happen—Gordy.

After leaving the shop, Tomes headed to von Vadim Estate to wait for Corin’s
return. He parked in the garage, at the back of the mansion, not wanting Angelique to know he was there when she dropped Corin off. With the way things were progressing, he wanted to keep her out of the loop, and hopefully, safe.

Having some time to spare, and eager to test the staker’s performance, he set
up a target outside the lanai using an old sheet of plywood he’d found in the garage. He loaded the weapon with eight nails and fired them off, surprising himself by the accuracy of his aim.

“Wow.” He whistled. Gordy was right—the gun had some force behind it,
completely slicing through the quarter inch panel from twenty feet away.

He had just reloaded when the sound of a vehicle approaching captured his
attention. Recognizing the distinct whine of the engine, he knew it was Angelique’s car. And quickly slipping around the side of the house to spy, he watched, unseen, from the shadows.

“Next time we’ll take my car.” Corin opened the passenger door and escorted
Angelique to the driver’s side.

“Are you saying you don’t care for my car, Corin von Vadim?”
She slid behind the wheel.

“Not at all. But it’s no Corvette
.
”

“I’ll give you that. Honestly, though, you forget our date…criticize my car. I’m
almost afraid to ask what comes next. It leaves me wondering if there’s anything you like about me at all.”

“I like everything about you, Angelique.” He bent down, giving her a tender
kiss on the lips.

Angelique
held onto him, prolonging the moment, running her fingers through his mass of blond hair.

At the side of the house, Tomes fumed. He raised the staker, boiling with
anger and disgust, taking aim at Corin with an itchy finger twitching on the trigger. It was hard to find restraint, but he didn’t shoot. He wanted to, but he needed Corin’s help to find the nightwalker. Without him, he may never avenge Louisa’s death. But he wouldn’t sacrifice his sister to make that happen. He had warned Corin numerous times to stay away from her, and if he didn’t back off, next time he might not have any qualms with using the staker on him. No qualms at all.

* * * *

Sheriff Pierson received a call from Ann Tinley. Patricia was awake and asking for him. Breathing a sigh of relief, he rushed to see her, finding her alert and comfortably settled in a room. When their eyes met, several seconds of poignant silence passed between them.

“I’ll give the two of you some privacy,” Ann excused herself, patting Sheriff
Pierson on the shoulder as she left the room.

“How do you feel?” He took a seat next to her bed. “I see they have you all
bandaged up.”

“I guess I won’t have to worry about my hair for a while.”

“Are you sure you’re up for talking right now?” She looked weak.

“I need to tell you what happened, Allen. I was so scared,” she spoke through
building tears. “I knew he was there to kill me. If Jessica hadn’t shown up when she did, I’d probably be dead. I know I’d be dead.” She broke down. “And Jessica…. That should have been me. I couldn’t even help her. I was barely conscious.”

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened to her. You are both the victims
of a sadistic killer.”

“I just can’t believe it happened…that she’s dead.”

“I hate to question you right now, but I need to know if you can give me a description. Did you get a good look at him?”

“I couldn’t make out much, his features were blotted out and there was a lot of
fog. He appeared tall, thin, and it looked like he was wearing a long coat. It made me think of the man on the surveillance tape.”

“You think it was the same person?”

“I can’t be certain. I only saw him for a moment when the fog parted, and only his silhouette. He hid in the fog, calling out to me. He knew my name.” Her heart rate spiked and she pressed her hand to her chest. “The sounds…like an animal.”

“Animal?”

“I heard what I thought were growls, and Jessica’s scream. How can I ever get that out of my head?” She buried her face in her hands.

“That’s enough for now.” He knew how hard it must be to relive the horrifying
incident.

Her mention of animal sounds piqued his interest, along with the fact that the
killer knew her by name, giving him something more to contemplate.

“I promise you, Patricia, I’m going to get this guy.” He took her trembling
hand in his. He couldn’t stand seeing this vital, confident woman, whom he’d come to admire and care for, reduced to such a weak and fragmented state. “I have to leave now, but I’ll be back to see you soon.”

Sheriff Pierson called Ann back in and returned to the crime scene.
Profanity rolled off his tongue when he saw onlookers and reporters buzzing the site. And to make matters worse, his least favorite person—Jordon Black—was right in the middle of everything, poking around vital homicide evidence.

“I hope you’re not planning on stealing evidence from this murder site too,
Marshal.” Sheriff Pierson still believed he’d taken something from the first crime scene at Jaffler Farm regardless of his lack of proof.

“You insult my professionalism,”
Black countered. “Just like you, I work strictly by the book.”

“By whose book?” Sheriff Pierson scoffed.

“The same book you use to regulate your county, Sheriff, the good book of laws and ethics?” Jordon tossed back.