Cliff's Descent

by Dianne Duvall

  Though taller than Melanie, Kate was still a little on the short side and smelled like cucumbers.

  It was nice.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said.

  She backed away with a smile. “I’m glad you are, too.”

  Movement drew Cliff’s attention to a doorway on the other side of the office.

  Chris Reordon stood there, watching them.

  Oh crap. First Whetsman tattles and says who-knows-what to lead Reordon to summon Cliff to his office, then Reordon finds Cliff hugging his assistant?

  This wasn’t going to go well, was it?

  Chris strolled toward them, his expression inscrutable. He stared at Cliff a moment, then nodded not at the doorway that led to his office but to the one that led out of Kate’s. “Walk with me.”

  Cliff couldn’t decide if that was a request or an order but opted to follow him. Not that he actually had a choice.

  Reordon didn’t speak as he led Cliff back to the elevators.

  Todd and the other guards followed at a not very discreet distance.

  The guards from sublevel 5 squeezed onto the elevator with them. The rest remained topside.

  The short ride only took them down one floor to sublevel 1. According to Melanie, this network headquarters building was an exact replica of the old one. Cliff had reportedly been all over sublevel 1 the morning of the mercenary blitz, but—again—he had no memory of it, so he was seeing it with new eyes.

  He glanced around curiously as Reordon led him down a wide hallway. Aside from those that accompanied them, no guards were in sight. No doctors or researchers wearing white physician coats or scrubs were either. Instead, men and women in casual business attire slowed their steps and stared as Cliff’s group approached, then passed them.

  Did they know he was a vampire? Was that why they stared? Or did they simply not see heavily armed guards on this level very often? Sublevel 1 had the lowest security clearance, so he doubted anything or anyone here needed to be guarded.

  They passed several offices, some small with only one occupant and some large with multiple desks or cubicles. The largest room they passed housed rows and rows of fitness equipment currently being utilized by dozens of sweating employees. Across the hall from that lay a gym in which more employees trained in hand-to-hand combat.

  “Are those guards training in there?” Cliff asked.

  Reordon shook his head. “Regular employees. Before the mercenary attack, the training was optional. Now it’s mandatory.”

  “Even for the elderly employees?”

  “Yes. We temper the lessons according to each employee’s physical capabilities. And physical therapists help those who wish to increase their strength.”

  That explained the conversation he’d overheard in which an older man had bragged with a laugh that most of his arthritis pain had gone away after his trainer talked him into pumping iron.

  Chris turned in to the next room they encountered.

  Cliff followed. Surprise darted through him as he found himself standing inside a large cafeteria.

  “Join me for lunch?” Chris asked, continuing forward without waiting for an answer.

  “Sure.”

  Men and women of all ages and races occupied dozens of rectangular tables.

  The armed guards stationed themselves at the edges of the room.

  Conversation halted and silence fell, broken only by Cliff and Reordon’s footsteps as the two of them crossed to the service counter.

  Awkward.

  Chris pointed to an electronic menu that hung above the counter. “That’s what they’re serving today. Anything look good to you?”

  Conscious of the dozens of eyes boring holes into his back, Cliff felt his anxiety levels rise. It didn’t help that the burly man behind the counter stared at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. “The lasagna and a salad?”

  “Are you the vampire from sublevel 5?” the man blurted in what sounded like a Brooklyn accent.

  After glancing at Chris from the corner of his eye, Cliff nodded. “Yes.”

  The man’s face creased with a huge grin. “I thought so but wasn’t sure. You were all covered in dust and shit the last time I saw you.” He thrust out a beefy hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mason.”

  This was… weird. Cliff shook his hand. “I’m Cliff. Nice to meet you.”

  “You really saved my ass when the mercenaries attacked,” he declared, still pumping Cliff’s hand. “Thank you.”

  “Um. You’re welcome.”

  Mason finally released him, his grin growing so bright you’d think his favorite professional football player had just given him an autographed jersey. “You say you want the lasagna and a salad?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “You got it. What about you, Mr. Reordon?”

  “I’ll have the soup and a salad.”

  “Yes, sir. Coming right up.”

  As Mason hustled away, Cliff turned to Reordon.

  The network head looked as though he wanted to laugh. “Not what you were expecting?”

  “No.”

  Conversation resumed. Cliff heard his name whispered multiple times as employees expressed their surprise that one of the resident vampires would be dining with them this afternoon. But none fled.

  Mason reappeared and handed Reordon a tray with a medium-sized bowl of soup and a small salad, then left again. When he returned a moment later, he proudly offered up a second tray.

  Cliff stared. It sported a plate heaped with a massive portion of lasagna that smelled incredible, a bowl twice the size of Reordon’s overflowing with salad, and two baguettes.

  Mason grinned. “I heard you guys need a lot of carbs because of all the extra energy you burn with your superspeed and strength.”

  A genuine smile curled Cliff’s lips as he took the tray. “We do. This looks and smells delicious. Thank you.”

  “Anytime. You let me know if you want more.”

  Chuckling, Reordon turned away and led Cliff to a table near the center of the cafeteria.

  Reordon returned to the counter for a pitcher of tea and two glasses, then seated himself on the other side of the table.

  Cliff’s stomach rumbled as he sank into a surprisingly comfortable chair.

  Reordon smiled. “Dig in.”

  The two tucked into their meals.

  Damn, it was good. Reordon always insisted on the best for his employees. The best work environment. The best office furniture. The best trainers. The best chefs.

  And they really were the best chefs. Cliff had been stunned by the quality of the meals he and the other vampires had been provided. But Reordon insisted on treating everyone—regardless of his or her hierarchical status here at the network—equally.

  The delectable meal Cliff consumed distracted him for a time from all the stares directed his way.

  “Good?” Reordon asked.

  “Very good.” Once the worst of his hunger was assuaged, Cliff studied the network head. “Any particular reason we’re here?”

  Reordon swallowed the mouthful of salad he chewed. “Whetsman’s an ass.”

  Cliff laughed, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. “Glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

  Reordon nodded. “Unfortunately, he’s a brilliant ass. So I can’t fire him.”

  That was unfortunate.

  “A little birdie told me he doesn’t work well with vampires.”

  Melanie, perhaps? “He doesn’t,” Cliff admitted hesitantly.

  Again Reordon nodded. “I wanted to gain a better understanding of the situation, so I’m having someone monitor him—both his actions and the calls he makes and takes—temporarily.”

  “And?”

  “And the employee who’s stuck surveilling him today informed me a short while ago that Whetsman was being a dick. After listening to your conversation with him, I agreed.”

  Cliff would balk
at Reordon listening in and violating his privacy. But it wasn’t anything new. All of the vampires’ phone and internet activity was closely monitored for security reasons. Reordon was responsible for the safety of every man and woman in this building. Cliff didn’t blame him for ensuring vampires couldn’t blab to all and sundry online that vampires and immortals existed or invite vampires or more mercenaries to attack and rescue them when paranoia struck. “And?” he asked belatedly.

  Reordon grimaced. “And I still can’t fire his ass.”

  Cliff resumed eating with a grunt.

  “I can, however, do two things for you.” Setting his fork down, he reached into a back pocket and withdrew something.

  Cliff stared at the flash drive the blond laid on the table. “What’s that?”

  “Proof.”

  He arched a brow. “Of Whetsman being a dick?” What good would that do? “I already have ample proof of that, thank you.”

  Reordon laughed. “No. It’s proof that Bastien and Melanie aren’t bullshitting you about what happened the morning the mercenaries attacked.”

  Cliff’s chewing slowed as he stared at the small drive. He swallowed. “What makes you think I believe they’re bullshitting me?”

  “Because it’s the one question I would keep asking myself if I were in your shoes.”

  Cliff ate another bite of lasagna. The Immortal Guardians did often say Reordon thought of everything. Cliff just hadn’t realized the man paid much attention to the vampires beyond providing them with food and lodging and keeping them in check. “What kind of proof?”

  “Video.” He pointed to the ceiling in each corner of the room. “There are surveillance cameras all over this building. And they’re connected to backup generators located on one of the lower basement levels so they won’t stop recording if we suffer a power outage… even if that outage is caused by a military bombardment. It would basically take a bunker-busting missile to possibly wipe them out.” Forking another bunch of salad into his mouth, he chewed thoughtfully. “Actually, even that may not take the generators out. But it would destroy most of the cameras.”

  Seriously?

  Reordon shrugged. “Anyway, every camera that wasn’t destroyed in the mercenary attack kept rolling. I’m a paranoid bastard,” he stated matter-of-factly, “so I’ve been combing through all the footage to ensure Bastien wasn’t full of shit when he told me Stuart hadn’t intentionally lured the mercenaries to us.”

  More like he just didn’t like or trust Bastien because he had succeeded in breaching network security at headquarters the previous year. And, on a more personal note, he also harbored a grudge over Bastien punching him in the face and kidnapping Sarah while Chris was supposed to be keeping her safe.

  “I also wanted to evaluate our response to the attack and see what—if any—changes I can implement to make my employees safer in the future.” He swiftly finished off his salad, then sat back. “While doing so, I saw you hauling ass to get network employees—many network employees—to safety.” He tapped the flash drive. “It took me a while to piece it all together into one continuous video for you, but there it is: a second-by-second replay of your every action that morning.”

  Cliff stared at the drive, his heart pounding a little as hope rose.

  “Parts of it are blurry because you move so damn fast. But every time you stop or slow, you can see it’s clearly you in the video. And it cuts off when you go aboveground because that floor was pretty much leveled, destroying the cameras up there.”

  Relief poured through Cliff, loosening his limbs and damn near bringing tears to his eyes. He really had helped. Bastien hadn’t been lying to spare his feelings. And Reordon was offering him indisputable proof to quash his doubts.

  It was a really nice thing to do.

  He glanced at the other man, wanting to ask him why. This had not been a simple skim-through-the-footage-of-a-single-camera task. This had taken time. A hell of a lot of it.

  “It’s my way of saying thank you,” Reordon said somberly, “for getting Kate and so many others to safety.” He shook his head. “I shudder every time I think about how many would’ve died if you, Joe, and Stuart hadn’t helped evacuate the building while the Immortal Guardians defended it.”

  Cliff picked up the flash drive and curled his fingers around it in a loose fist. “Thank you.”

  Reordon leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. “The other thing I can do for you is this.” He nodded to the room around them.

  Cliff arched a brow. “Take me on a lunch date?”

  Laughing, Reordon shook his head. “Give you more leeway, more room to breathe.” His expression sobered. “I know you’ve been… antsy since your return. Those fuckers tortured you and drove you to experience your first break. Who wouldn’t be antsy? I also know you’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

  Cliff hated that Chris knew he was struggling.

  Hell, he didn’t like anyone knowing he was struggling.

  “So I thought you might need a distraction.” Reordon studied him carefully. “Do you need one? A distraction?”

  Though it galled him to admit it, Cliff sighed. “Yeah.” Reordon had done him a solid. The least he could do was be honest in return.

  “Then from now on you can leave your door open at night and roam sublevel 5 freely. Just don’t disrupt the researchers’ work too much. We don’t want to do anything that might slow them down. And anytime you need to stretch your legs during the day, Todd and the other guards who accompanied us can bring you here for lunch. You can even use the exercise facilities on this floor if you need a workout and don’t want to deal with Whetsman’s dickishness. I can have a treadmill capable of supporting vampire speeds added to the rest of the equipment in there by the end of the week.”

  Cliff stared at him. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  He glanced at the men and women dining around them. Many a glance skittered away from his in a lame attempt to hide the fact they were staring. “Don’t you think some of these people would object to that?” Particularly if Reordon didn’t intend to accompany him.

  Chris shrugged. “It might make some a little nervous.” An understatement, to be sure. “But they’ll eventually get used to it.”

  Get used to it… as if he expected Cliff to visit the cafeteria often.

  Cliff thought about how nice it would be to move around during the day without having to deal with Whetsman’s sorry ass. “Can Stuart come, too?”

  “I’m afraid not. He’s still new here, and none of us know him well. Plus if both of you left sublevel 5, I’d have to up the number of guards who accompanied you, which likely would make the rest of the employees nervous. I like to keep everyone here as happy as I can. A happy employee is a productive employee. And I appreciate everything they do for me.”

  Damn. This all made Reordon seem like a good guy. Cliff was going to have to reassess his opinion of the man.

  “I was also thinking about having Todd interview you,” Reordon continued. “He and Sheldon have interviewed a few immortals for the network’s classified internal newsletter. According to Kate, a lot of employees—particularly those you saved and those who have heard about it—are very curious about you. So it would be a good way to help them get to know you and see you as a person rather than a vampire.”

  “Okay.” It was worth a try.

  “Great. Let’s bus our trays, then I’ll show you around the gym. Todd will take you back to sublevel 5 once you’re finished.”

  Returning Reordon’s smile, Cliff rose, tucked the flash drive in his back pocket, and grabbed his tray.

  Chapter Five

  “Emma!”

  Yelping, Emma jumped and banged her head on the underside of her desk’s keyboard tray. “Ouch! Damn it, don’t do that,” she grumbled, backpedaling on her hands and knees. Sitting up, she glared over the desk at Cynthia and rubbed the back of her head.

  Cynthia rolled
her eyes as she entered. “Oh please. Your hair is so thick and pretty it’s like wearing a cushioned helmet. You probably barely felt that.”

  Emma laughed. She’d pulled her hair back from her face in braids today and wore the rest in a fluffy Afro Cynthia had repeatedly said she envied, usually after disparaging her own hair, which Emma thought was lovely but Cynthia wished was thicker and curlier.

  “What are you doing under there anyway?”

  “Trying to see how many miles I’ve pedaled. I got one of those under-desk ellipticals Mr. Reordon offered to buy employees, and the display is too dark to read unless I get right up on it.”

  Surprise lit her friend’s face as she sank down in the visitor’s chair. “You did? Why?” She motioned to Emma’s body when Emma rose and returned to her chair. “As Todd would say, you’re smokin’ hot.”

  Unease slithered through Emma, driving her to fiddle with her keyboard’s position as she debated answering her friend’s innocent query. “You’re going to think I’m weird if I tell you. Or paranoid or something.”

  All humor left Cynthia’s countenance, replaced by concern. “Why? What’s wrong? Tell me.”

  Emma considered refusing but reluctantly admitted, “I’ve kinda been on a big exercise kick lately.” She darted her friend a look, then shifted her keyboard again and fiddled with a pen. “Since the mercenary attack.”

  Cynthia’s gaze turned watchful as she leaned forward. “Go on.”

  Emma sighed. “It’s just… I keep thinking about it. And I know it will probably never happen again. But if it did…” She shrugged. “What if Mr. Reordon hadn’t let the vampires help us that day? What if the ceiling hadn’t collapsed on us and Sadie and I had made it down the hallway on our own? The elevator wasn’t functional.” It had already plummeted to sublevel 5, killing those inside it. “And there’s no way Sadie could’ve made it down four flights of stairs without help. So I thought I might have to piggyback her and…” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I would’ve been able to do it. I don’t know if I would’ve been strong enough.”