DISCLAIMER: Neither Corvid Angel nor I have the pleasure of owning any of the characters from Les Miserables, though we DO own anyone who is not obviously from the book. We are still trying to decide who owns Javert.

A/N: Another co-written fanfic from yours truly! This was a bit of a crack idea made because Anthony Perkins once played a vampire, and of course we HAD to say, "Hey, what if Javert was a vampire?" We hope you enjoy the story.

"The Vampire, Javert"

PROLOGUE

Journal Entry - 18 February 1832

Many apologies for not having written in some time; I simply cannot find a moment suitably quiet enough in which to record my thoughts. Not that anyone will care if I do or not. Still, I do believe the events of late have caused a need for me to return to the pen. Language is still a chore for me to grasp, as it always has been, yet I don't suppose that matters. This is my personal diary, after all.

A strange affair today. It began this morning after he tended to these new duties set upon him by the absent superintendent. Quite a freeze today, if my observations have been keen enough, and as was natural for a mortal, he shivered and rubbed his hands together vigorously. I wonder with some amusement if it were possible that he was not in some ways already dead, for he never exhibited the slightest bit of concern for anything around him. His nature was to consider his work, nothing more. It was at this time he moved to the stove in the hall, standing in front of it and warming those intriguing large hands of his. Then that youth came. I have not yet had the privilege of learning his name, but it is of no consequence; he was merely there to charge the inspector with a new case. Something about an extortion and kidnapping, I believe.

It was all too plainly obvious that after the youth left he became elatedly ecstatic, ordering men here and there, changing his schedule, walking proudly about the building wearing that devilishly charming half-smile of his. It is always amusing to see him smile. He does it so little, and yet I should like to know what makes his mind work. Such a complicated mechanism he is.

His raid on the address in question went well; I followed him, naturally, though I could not hold back my utter amusement when I saw that man he's been after escape through the window behind the house. The man saw me, I think. However, he did not seem to pay me much mind, as he was much more concerned with getting as far away as possible from my seething inspector, who was up on the second floor positively fuming in his head. He knew that man had been there. And he knew that his pride had let him escape again. What rage he must be feeling! I've not a clue why it should amuse me so much; one would think after almost two hundred and fifty years the world would stop giving them surprises, but that in itself appears to be a surprise.

He intrigues me more and more.

Journal Entry - 5 June 1832

The army now realizes the seriousness of this uprising. They have begun to challenge these sad excuses for barricades, and to my immense amusement they are having quite a time dealing with them. Of course some were easier to take down than others, but the one on…ah, wherever it may be, it's the one he's at. I suppose they thought it clever to institute a spy among the revolutionaries, but it continues to bemuse me as to why they sent him of all people. No, this says nothing to his efficiency, but really, they should have known than to send someone whose skills at blending in are veritably non-existent. I hope for the sake of the Interior that their choice was not made because of a shortage of men, though the thought does seem unlikely. Not that it matters anyway.

He was captured, unfortunately. Unmasked by an urchin; how quaint! I should say that came as a delightfully painful blow to his pride, and I will truthfully state that I am disappointed I did not get to observe the look on his face when they found him out. They've tied him to a post in the lower room of their outpost behind the barricade. To make matters even more deliciously complicated, that man he's been after has joined them. My current position does not allow me to watch either of them, but it is excellent for watching this impossibly hopeless struggle. Moral is not absent, but it is low. It is certain they will lose; the only question that remains is how. I watch with mild interest as they hunch tiredly over tables preparing their weapons. He stands tied to the pole, face grim but accepting. He knows what will become of him. It shall be quite a display.

Journal Entry - 6 June 1832

A surprise! That man has let my dear inspector go! Of all the possible actions, I had not even considered this one. What, no revenge? Quite startling indeed.

The revolutionaries were overcome as I expected; the only survivor, the boy who went to the inspector some months ago, was carried out by that man. They went through the sewers I learned later, and met with the inspector on the beach. Did not watch their encounter closely; it held no interest for me, and neither did the ride back to the boy's home. The inspector is afraid. I can smell it. He is anxious, confused, torn, yet in his agony he remains stoic. A curious and thoroughly intriguing man, he continues to be a source of amusement.

After dispensing with the boy and then the man, he went to a bridge, the Pont-au-Change. I do not know what he was thinking precisely, but I can guess as much: he cannot cope. I watched in silence. But no, he decided to adjourn to the police station. Unfinished business, perhaps? I did not look into it, but I will assume so, for he came back to that same spot he'd been standing at for the past hour, turning over his thoughts with trembling hands. He is in turmoil now; it is all too clear in his gait, his posture, his expression. How shall he deal with this, I wonder?

Journal Entry - 7 June 1832

Plans went better than expected. I struck as he was leaning over, shuffling his feet so that he might jump. There was no struggle, only my teeth in his neck and his expression twisted into utter shock. That face they make when they realize their world has just ended; it never ceases to fill me with excitement. He fell into the river not a few moments later. Now the only thing left is for them to find the body. I should think that will take a day or two, but no matter; I shall wait with undisguised anxiousness. Of course, I have all the time in the world as it were.

He's mine now. And he will be mine forevermore.