Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night) (35 page)

Pulling up the
drive, he stopped in front of the house where two vehicles sat—a car and a truck. Shoving the shifter into park, he got out and went to the front door, finding it ajar.

“Hello?” he
called out, receiving no response.

Pushing a hand against the door, a
light shone in a back room. Stepping inside, he called out again, but there was clearly no one around.

Backing out of the house, he walked around the building to the back lawn and checked the barn, finding the farm deserted. He rubbed his left ear.
Things didn’t feel right, and that worrisome quiver was going at it full speed, something it had done a lot this last week.

Returning to the front door of the residence, he decided to go
back inside and check the house, justifying the act with the thought that the lady of the house might be in distress, or worse, a victim of foul play. An understandable concern considering the murders in the county.

“Ms. Jaffler,” he called out
as he meandered the living room, glancing over an array of photos and décor, observing a large, white Bible displayed on a small, oval table near the window.

Moving on through the home,
he saw no sign of mischief and backtracked to leave, but halted when he passed by an office where a desktop computer sat atop a compact desk.

You have no legal right to snoop, Pierson.

But unable to resist, legal or not, he took advantage of the opportunity and slid open the top drawer of the desk, finding pens, clips, and other typical office items. Nothing of consequence. Traveling to a lower drawer, his luck fared better, discovering a green folder lying atop several reams of paper.

Interest piqued, he skimmed its contents.
“What on earth?” The extensive research someone had applied toward such a foolish matter surprised him. “Vampires,” he mumbled. “Ridiculous notion.”

Coming upon a
handwritten page, it appeared to be a theory of Louisa Jaffler’s death, leading him to presume, by the manner of writing, that the folder belonged to Tomes Jaffler.

What?
His eyes widened with disbelief as his gaze locked on a single line written in capital letters, a conclusion at the bottom of the page.

V
ON VADIM IS A NIGHTWALKER
.

Pierson contemplated taking the folder with him
for further study, but he’d be committing theft. Knowing it was wrong, he reluctantly placed it back in the drawer. Besides, such nonsense couldn’t be of significance to him in regard to the murders. Yet, that nerve behind his left ear was signaling him otherwise, giving rise to second thoughts, and to date, it had never steered him wrong.

“You have no search warrant.” His conscience was working on him—a devil on
one shoulder, an angel on the other. “You’re the sheriff, for Pete’s sake. You need to do this by the book.”

The pitchfork winning out, he went against his own better judgment
and grabbed the folder, tucked it under his arm, and made a rapid exit. If he had to take a few detours off the straight and narrow in order to get to the bottom of the murders, then so be it. He never claimed to be perfect. He was no different from every other man in the world…just human.

Leaving the farm,
he thought over the connection between Corin von Vadim and the Jafflers. First of all, the two siblings’ farm connected to von Vadim’s estate, making them neighbors. Secondly, Tomes Jaffler worked for von Vadim at his estate, and thirdly, Angelique had been seen out on a date with the estate owner, spotted by the very reliable Officer Traci Keller while visiting the fair with her young son the night before last.
They looked pretty cozy with each other
, Pierson recalled her exact words.

He
was slowly building his case against Corin von Vadim, and the Jaffler siblings were all tangled up in the man’s life. He didn’t have a motive yet, but he was sure if he kept digging, things would start coming together. Reviewing his links, what he had so far was the second victim’s business card acquired by the heir from Purcell’s Garage the very night of her murder. In addition, there was the gold pocket watch found at the murder site of the third victim, Jessica Daniel’s, inscribed with the name Miralanya, matching a past relative of von Vadim. And now, Officer Keller had placed both him and Angelique Jaffler at the fairgrounds where Madam Monicca, the fortuneteller, was murdered. However, other than being a neighbor of the first victim, Louisa Jaffler, he didn’t have anything connecting him to her murder, or to the latest victim—the maid at the Inn. But he had no doubt that something would eventually arise as it had with the others.

Unfortunately, what information Sheriff Pierson had was all circumstantial,
not enough for an arrest. He needed something concrete to turn over to the DA that would get an indictment. This pushed him to the next step, setting up a stakeout to keep twenty-four hour surveillance on the suspect, hoping that at some point, von Vadim would slip up.

Von Vadim Estate was without a doubt the primary headquarters of whatever
was going on. He just had to be patient until the man made another move. And this time, God willing, the law would be there to catch him in the act.

* * * *

In the basement of the estate house, Corin, antsy as a nervous cat, paced to-and-fro. He cursed the clock, the world moving around him in slow motion. Continually rebuking himself, he questioned how he’d ever allowed this to happen, wishing he’d never let Angelique out of his sight. Filled with rage and worry, the sting of helplessness ate at him. He’d never loved anyone with such heated desire and passion. She was not only in his heart…she owned it.

Corin could hear Tomes hobbling about the room above him, no doubt full of
turmoil and feeling the same helplessness he felt. A beloved sister’s life was at stake, a twin whom he’d shared everything with since conception. They were connected in a way very few could understand.

“Corin,” Tomes
voice called from the doorway above. “Do you mind if I flip on the light?”

“I’ll get it down here,” Corin called back, lighting the lantern near the foot of
the stairs. The softer, dimmer light was easier on his sensitive eyes. “Careful with your footing. I don’t want to be responsible for you taking a nasty spill down the stairs and further debilitating that already abused body of yours.”

“I’m not coming down.”
Tomes shut the door and took a seat on the top step.

“You should be resting. You need to heal.”

“I’m a good eighty percent there, I’d say,” Tomes looked down at him.

“Have you come up with a way to get her back?” He was hoping to hear that
Tomes had a rescue mission all planned out.

“I don’t want to put her in any unnecessary danger. He wants me and he’ll
take nothing less.” Corin resumed pacing. “But that leaves me with a dilemma. If I give myself up in exchange for Angelique, in the end, you can bet he’ll still come after all of you despite my sacrifice. In order for his plan to work, he’ll have to eliminate everyone who knows of it. Other than the director, that includes me, you, Angelique, and now Jordon, since he’s joined our little band of misfits.”

“Lucky guy,” Tomes
said. “Speaking of Jordon, he took off. I heard him slip out so I watched from a front window and saw him shape-shift into a wolf. He headed for the woods and disappeared near the stone wall. What do you think he’s up to?”

“You don’t trust him,” Corin
sensed.

“I don’t know him. So no, I don’t,” Tomes confessed. “And you do?”

“I believe he’s legit. He has his own motivation for catching Boldor.” Corin stopped pacing and looked up at him with a serious expression. “I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you the truth about him.”

“I don’t think much would shock me now, Corin. A year ago, I never would
have imagined nightwalkers to be real, but look at me collaborating in a darkened basement with the very thing I always thought was make-believe. I’d really like to know what’s so extraordinary about him that’s enabled him to win your trust.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you. He’s from another world—the Eleventh Dimension. He
calls himself an Indith immortal and claims to be after Boldor to retrieve a powerful charm he stole from a special order of nightwalkers.”

“Wow. I’m almost sorry I asked. Other worlds and magical charms—it’s as if
I’ve been sucked into a children’s fantasy book.”

Corin paced.
“I told you it was unbelievable.”

“That’s an understatement. Impossible is the appropriate word. This couldn’t be more ludicrous. I’m partnered with a nightwalker, and
now an immortal from another world.”

“Maybe so, but because of what we are, Angelique just might stand a chance.
That is, if this infernal day would ever end. I need to feed.”

Tomes took a deep breath,
already having accepted that it would take an immortal to defeat the nefarious nightwalker. As much as he wanted to be the one to take the killer’s life—revenge for Louisa—he now had to think of Angelique. At this juncture, the nightwalker and the alien immortal were her best hope.

* * * *

Sheriff Pierson leaned back and stretched. Parked on von Vadim’s land, he couldn’t have created a better stakeout position if he’d tried. Well concealed behind a group of large trees, not far from the gate, he had a near-perfect view of the mansion from where he sat.

“What the
…” he sprang forward. Choking on a mouthful of salty chips, he fumbled for a diet cola growing warm in a center console cup-holder. Taking a large swallow, he washed down the lump.

What he’d just seen had left him
flabbergasted.

“It can’t be,” he brush
ed crumbs off his shirt while clearing his throat. He stared in bewilderment at the driveway leading to the mansion. “No, it has to be some play on the eye.”

He tried to convince himself, as he’d done with
the surveillance tapes, but this time he knew better. This was no trick, or illusion. What he’d just seen with his own two eyes was disconcertingly real.

I
t was illogical to believe that a person could transform from man to animal, but he’d just witnessed the phenomena all the same. There was no mistaking what he saw—Marshal Jordon Black shape-shifting into a rather fierce-looking, dark-colored wolf.

Sheriff Pierson had never believed in the supernatural, but after what he’d just
observed, he found himself reevaluating his beliefs. Seeing the marshal change form had made an impact, something he hadn’t expected, but couldn’t ignore.

Eyeing the green folder lying on the passenger’s seat next to him, he reached
for it and flipped it open. Skimming through the sheets, he stopped on a page he’d seen earlier titled “shape-shifting.” He pulled the sheet out and ran his eyes down the length of it.

“No. It’s not possible…vampires?” He laid his head back, letting the shock
soak in.

It would certainly explain Corin von Vadim—an odd man, never home during
the day, only seen at night—but when it came to the marshal, it didn’t fit. He had seen him out in the daytime. Nevertheless, vampire or not, Marshal Black was no normal human man. Pierson wasn’t sure what the blazes he was.

He hated to admit it, but the infernal reporter, Terry Phillips, just might have
been on the right track after all when he compared the first killing to the myth of the vampire. He recalled the title, “Man or Monster.”

“Talk about hitting the nail on the head. Is this why you were avoiding me,
Mr. Phillips?” He recalled attempting to see the reporter, without success. “Maybe your informer wasn’t quite as human as the rest of us?” he speculated.

Pierson had always been a levelheaded man, but he now found himself forced
to reconsider a bizarre possibility—that the Jackson County killer could actually be a real life, shape-shifting, blood-sucking vampire. Or was he simply losing his mind?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lehndra

Wearing his cape and black Stetson, tilting the brim down to shade his face,
Corin headed for the garage even though the sun was still setting, making the slow transition to twilight. He moved quickly, gripping his collar to minimize exposure.

Tomes followed, lagging behind,
not yet recovered. Corin had tried to persuade him to wait at the estate, but to no avail. Moreover, with Angelique in danger, he understood Tomes’s need to do something.

“If she died and I didn’t do all I could to save her, I’d never forgive myself,”
Tomes made it to the garage and climbed into the car. “She’s at the mercy of a killer. You know better than anyone just how fragile she is in his hands. Your kind are the hunters, and we’re the prey—rabbits to wolves.”