Corin & Angelique (After the Fall of Night) (22 page)

Chapter Fourteen

A Surprise Visit

“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by so late.” Sheriff Pierson stepped into
Patricia’s room.

“No, I’m glad you’re here,” her voice was drowsy.

“How are you feeling?” He took a seat next to her bed.

“The pain medication is doing an admirable job, but it leaves me fuzzyheaded. Tell me about the
investigation. How’s it going?”

“Forensics is still gathering evidence. It’s not a speedy process.”

“You look tired. You could use some rest.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about me. I’m just fine,” he assured her.

Patricia pushed herself up into a more comfortable position. “I wish I were home in my own bed.”

“You’ll be heading home before you know it.”
Pierson repositioned her pillows. “I’ve been meaning to ask, how would you feel about joining me one night for dinner and a movie when you get back on your feet? It’s been years since I’ve been to a movie. We’re not too old for that, are we?”

“Absolutely not. It sounds wonderful. That gives me a goal to work toward.
”

“It’s a plan then.” Pierson sat down.

“Dr. Krieger, my neurologist, wants to monitor me over the next forty-eight hours, but I’m hoping he’ll let me go tomorrow. It’s just standard procedure after this type of head trauma. He’ll be around again in the morning and I’m sure I’ll get a favorable prognosis.”

“Are you getting everything you need?”

“I’m being well cared for. Ann’s here. And I am the hospital administrator, so the staff’s been showering me with plenty of special treatment.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Allen, about my attacker, the more I think about it, the more certain I am of it being the blood thief from the surveillance tape.”

“His features weren’t detectible,” Pierson reminded her.

“It was the outline of a long coat. Something tells me it was him. Maybe we could take another look at the tape.”

“I’ll get it, but I’m afraid the police lab wasn’t able to clean it up much. They
proposed the subject to be a thin-framed male, standing at an approximate height of five feet ten, having dark-brown or black shoulder-length hair—an obvious deduction. And the pendant, they ascertained it to be a large, dark-colored gemstone, confirming what we’d already concluded ourselves.”

“If that’s the best clean up job those tech experts can manage, maybe they
ought to be cleaning with brooms instead.”

Pierson laughed.
“You might be right.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it. What could he want all of that blood for?”

“God only knows. It’s like the ‘Twilight Zone’ has settled over the county.” Sheriff Pierson remembered the evidence he’d brought with him and pulled it out. “Before I forget, I want to show this to you. We found it at the crime scene. Have you seen it before?” He held the bag containing the watch in front of her.

“No. I haven’t. Do you think it’s his?”

“It’s very likely.” Pierson turned the piece over and showed her the back.

“There’s an inscription,
For my prince of the night
.
Miralanya
.”

“Romantic. And a lovely name—Miralanya.”

“But not very common.”

“True. I can’t say I’ve ever heard it before. It’s unique.”

“I have Rudy checking for any county matches. He’s pretty topnotch when it comes to all that hi tech know how. Hopefully, he’ll come up with something. There’s a lot riding on this find. We need a solid lead. The people are counting on me for answers—good ol’ Sheriff Pierson.”

“Just be careful out there. The man who attacked me, and killed Jessica, he
was sinister…pure evil.”

“
Making it a dire situation. The devil walks among us. No one will be safe until he’s caught.”

* * * *

Corin and Tomes slipped, unseen, to the back door of the funeral home. Peeking through a small glass insert centered in the upper portion of the door, Tomes could see the director in the room.

“He’s working on a body,” he whispered to Corin
, reaching for the doorknob and slowly turning it. “It’s unlocked.”

“Good. Let’s pay him a visit, then.”

Tomes nodded, counted to three, and threw the door open. Both men barreled into the room, sending Fulner stumbling back from the slab, grabbing his chest as if they’d nearly given him a heart attack.

“Surprise, surprise.” Tomes sang.

Corin took a stance behind him.

“Mr. Fulner, isn’t it?” Tomes could tell the
undertaker was trying not to show fear.

“That’s right, Mr. Jaffler. Jerry Rinnert Fulner. Are you here about the
funeral? I thought you were satisfied with our services.”

Tomes’s eyes narrowed.
“Services never performed, I believe that is more accurate.”

“I’m sure you know why we’re here, Mr. Fulner.” Corin stepped forward,
staring him down. “Do you know who I am?”

“No. I d-don’t b
-believe so, sir,” Fulner stuttered, grasping the edge of the slab for support.

“I am one of them.”

“Corin—” Tomes interceded, afraid Corin was going to reveal his secret.

Corin held up his hand, halting Tomes. “It’s okay. Mr. Fulner has a right to
know with whom he’s dealing.”

“And who am I dealing with?” Fulner asked.

Instead of giving a verbal answer, Corin shape-shifted into a large, white wolf. He snarled at the man, his canine face and neck enhanced with a hint of brown detail.

“I believe you’ve made your point.” Tomes watched wide-eyed as
Corin took back his human form. Amazed by the metamorphosis, he wondered why immortals were granted these magnificent capabilities.

“That should answer your question.” Corin told Fulner. “Now,
from her on out, I’ll be doing the questioning. Do we understand each other?”

Fulner nodded, clearly terrified.

“The other nightwalker, are you working for him?” Corin moved around the slab, where Fulner stood.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fulner backed away.

“You’re not a very convincing liar. I’d hate for this to get ugly.”

“I’m not lying. I swear it,” Fulner declared.

Corin allowed his fangs and nails to lengthen. “What do you think, Tomes?”

“He’s lying.”

Corin grabbed Fulner by his throat and lifted him a good foot off the ground. Suspended like a puppet, his feet dangled beneath him. Maintaining a firm grip with his right hand, Corin’s extended talons punctured Fulner’s flesh just below his jaw line.

“Please.”
The director whimpered, blood trickling down the side of his neck from the wounds.

“Corin—” Tomes started to protest his actions,
thinking he might actually kill the man, but Corin turned his head in a way that concealed his face from Fulner and winked.

Relieved that Corin had no intention of harming Fulner, not fatally anyway,
Tomes played along with his scare tactics.

“Maybe I’ll just have a little drink.” Corin caught some of Fulner’s blood on
two talons of his free hand and held it out for him to see before placing it in his mouth. He glared icily. “Or maybe I should just finish you off and be done with it.”

Tomes couldn’t help being taken aback by Corin’s bestial appearance. Even though it was all an act, the image he portrayed was real—a
bloodthirsty creature no man in his right mind would ever dare stand against. Act or not, it sent a chill racing up his spine.

“Please, wait!” Fulner pleaded, beads of sweat forming along his brow and
running down the arch of his nose. “You don’t understand. He’ll kill me!”

“Or I can do that right now.” Corin emitted a low-pitched growl and drew the
sniveling man closer, baring his fangs.

“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you what I know.”

Corin relaxed his hold on the man’s throat and lowered him to his feet. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, he held him in place.

“He calls himself Boldor.” He coughed several times before blabbing out
information like a tattling child. “He paid me to skip the embalming on Mr. Jaffler’s wife. I couldn’t say no to him. He isn’t the sort to take no for an answer.”

“I suppose he’s paying you well,” Corin said.

“For the trouble, I’ve made out pretty good,” the louse admitted.

“You son of a—” Tomes flew at Fulner in a flash of rage, but Corin held him at
bay with his free hand.

Tomes fought against Corin’s block.
“This worm doesn’t deserve to live.”

“Taking his life won’t solve our problems,
pleasurable as it might be,” Corin reasoned.

“If he’d done his job, embalmed Louisa, she’d be resting in peace right now
instead of suffering at the hands of that monster.”

“He is scum—the worst excuse for a man—but he’s not the one we’re after.
And because of him, we now know the nightwalker’s name—Boldor.”

Tomes reluctantly backed off, endeavoring to control his anger. Oh, he still
wanted to rip Fulner’s head off, but he knew Corin was right and this despicable man’s only crime was being an immoral git.

He’d never been a violent person, but the unfortunate circumstances life had
thrown at him had turned him into someone unrecognizable—a different sort of monster—the human-out-for-vengeance kind. Yet, despite the dark changes in him, there was still one thing separating him from the real monsters roaming the earth—his blasted conscience. Still, there was a big difference between taking the life of a bloodthirsty nightwalker and taking the life of a human, and he knew when the time came, he’d have no problem severing the fiend’s head.

“Where is he taking refuge?” Corin demanded.

“I don’t know,” Fulner sniveled. “He didn’t tell me.”

Corin twisted the undertaker’s shirt, pulling

it up to his throat. “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth. I swear it is. He said he’d contact me when my services were
needed.”

Corin stared into Fulner’s face, obviously trying to decide whether or not to
believe him.

The director whimpered. “If I knew, I’d tell you. I swear I would.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re telling the truth. I do not react well to liars.” Corin relinquished his hold and stepped back. “I’d hate to have to come back and let eager Tomes, here, finish you off.”

“It’s all I know,” Fulner insisted, rubbing his stinging neck, smearing blood
that trickled from the puncture wounds.

“Let’s go.” Corin aimed for the door.

Tomes followed, but not quite finished with the man, he turned back before exiting. “Something tells me I’ll be seeing you again real soon.”

“Not if I can help it,” Fulner responded.

“You helped that monster turn my wife into God knows what, and I won’t forget the part you’ve played.”

Chapter Fifteen

Tape Number Two

Louisa, her mind left maddened by the transformation, was wild as a rabid
animal. Boldor eased toward her, cautious with his movements, knowing she was capable of inflicting damage.

Unlike her demented mind, her body had
regenerated itself to a pleasing degree. It wasn’t flawless, but considering the extent of damage present prior to her change, it was a miraculous transformation. Any visible evidence of the autopsy she’d undergone was nearly undetectable, leaving her with only very faint scarring.

“I think I’ll call you my little firecat—red flaming hair and the green eyes of a
wild feral.” Boldor reached out to stroke her soft strands, fully expecting counteraction.

Her wavy locks, falling in
mad disarray about her creamy, porcelain face, in combination with her cat-colored eyes, presented a striking vision.

Responding defensively, just as he
’d suspected, she laid a fast and fierce bite to the top of his hand. He snatched it back with a growl and ran his tongue over the wound before sealing it with a pass of his fingers. This was a power of the nightwalkers—the ability to instantly heal small wounds—regenerate the flesh. However, if the injuries were substantial, healing would require placing themselves in a deep sleep while the body repaired itself. Very little could permanently afflict them, making the immortals practically indestructible.