Melanie laughed. “A vagina doctor. Once when Bastien and I were talking about a mortal friend’s pregnancy, he couldn’t think of the term OB/GYN, so he just said vagina doctor.” She shrugged. “Immortal Guardians aren’t real big on physicians. Most were raised in times when medicine was still in its infancy. Or even before its infancy.”
Emma shook her head. “Being married to a man who was born two centuries ago must be a trip.”
“It is.” She grinned. “But it’s a very fun trip.”
The rest of the visit went well. As it turned out, Melanie really was there to discuss female issues. As a physician and newly proclaimed friend, she wanted to ensure Emma understood the consequences of getting pregnant.
Learning that any baby she conceived by Cliff would most likely be infected with the virus and—if it matured mentally—might forever remain trapped in the body of an infant sobered things quickly. But Emma appreciated Melanie’s candor and the matter-of-fact way she offered up information that Emma admitted she did need to know and hadn’t let Cliff impart the previous night. She’d even come prepared and gave Emma a shot since Emma wasn’t currently on birth control. Once Emma had met Cliff and fallen hard, the idea of sleeping with another man had just been too unappealing, so she’d stopped taking it.
Melanie also walked Emma through what she could expect if she continued to see Cliff. The mental decline that would take place. The guilt and more he would suffer once the psychotic breaks began to strike on a regular basis. Though she tried to remain clinical, tears glimmered in her eyes by the time she finished.
Throat thick, Emma drew the woman into a hug. “Thank you for helping him.”
Melanie shook her head. “I can only try my best to address the medical side of it. I can’t make him happy. Not the way you do.”
Hearing the difference she made helped Emma feel better. “Does Cliff know you’re here?”
“No. And he doesn’t know Bastien and I are aware of his coming here last night.” Leaning back, Melanie brushed a tear from her cheek. “But Emma, I also want you to know that Cliff won’t blame you if you decide it’s all too much. Whether you conclude that now that I’ve laid everything out for you or at some point in the future. He won’t blame you.”
Emma shook her head. “I love him too much. I want every minute I can have with him, good or bad.” She covered Melanie’s hand where it rested on the sofa between them. “Wouldn’t you want the same with Bastien?”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “Just know that Bastien and I are here for you. If you ever need to talk or are concerned about anything, you can call us.” Taking out her cell phone, she exchanged numbers with Emma. “And if Cliff ever inadvertently hurts you, call me immediately.”
“Cliff would never hurt me,” Emma declared and braced herself for a denial rife with warning.
But Melanie surprised her. “I don’t think he would either.” Tilting her head to one side, she seemed to consider it. “Even during their psychotic breaks, the part of Vince and Joe that cared about us seemed to linger and kept them from injuring Linda or me.” A flush crept up her cheeks. “But sometimes immortals—and I assume vampires—can be a little rough in their, ahem, exuberance during sex. You know, preternatural strength and all that. I’m immortal now, so any bruises that form fade just as quickly. But you aren’t immortal, and I worry Cliff might…”
“Panic if he thinks he hurt me?” Emma glanced down at her arms. She hadn’t noticed any bruises earlier and saw none now.
“Yes.” Melanie’s look turned thoughtful. She narrowed her eyes as though she might be mentally hatching something. “You know, Linda recently started seeing Alleck. Linda is the other doctor who works closely with the vampires at the network. And Alleck is a German immortal who sometimes helps us with our research. Linda is still mortal and does sometimes sport bruises after bouts of loveplay. Maybe I could arrange to have a”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“spontaneous discussion with her regarding how she got the bruises and how she feels about them while Bastien hangs out in Cliff’s apartment and makes sure he overhears it.” She nodded. “Yes. I’ll do that. And I’ll have Bastien mention he bruised me a bit before I transformed.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know. I don’t really remember.” She smiled wryly. “A lot was happening at the time. I nearly died twice.”
“Sheesh.”
“Yeah.” They chatted a little longer, then Melanie headed out to her car. “You should probably open the windows and let a breeze flow through the house. I don’t want Cliff to know I was here.”
“Why?”
“Because I want him to feel free to visit you without looking over his shoulder, wondering if we’re there, scrutinizing everything he does. I want him to be happy.”
Emma nodded. “I do, too.”
As she watched Melanie’s car creep back down the driveway and reviewed everything the woman had told her, Emma wondered how long that happiness would last.
Chapter Fourteen
When Cliff awoke the next afternoon, his mind was wonderfully quiet and his body rested after the best night’s sleep he’d had in months.
A smile stretched his lips.
Emma.
He couldn’t wait to see her again tonight. Couldn’t wait to hold her and talk to her. He’d grab his phone right now and call her if all outgoing and incoming calls to his cell weren’t monitored.
Oh well. He could wait. He felt great!
Unfortunately, Cliff’s mental reprieve proved to be a temporary one. He was hanging out with Melanie and Linda in the lab shortly before the dinner hour when the whispers began. Not those carried to his ears by the multitude of employees who inhabited the building but the whispers in his head.
Damn it. His mood soured. What had he expected? That one night with the woman he loved would banish the voices forever and miraculously heal the brain damage he’d suffered?
If Melanie and the other doctors here at the network found a cure for the virus that wouldn’t kill him, they didn’t even know if the brain damage could be reversed or if the voices and violent impulses would continue to plague him for the rest of his mortal life.
Just give up, they taunted. Give in. No point fighting it when you know we’ll win.
Never. He would never give in. He had something more than his own sanity to fight for now. If he could beat this, he might have a future with Emma.
And what he wouldn’t give for that, to have a storybook happily-ever-after with her. Marriage. Kids. A dog and a white picket fence. The works.
Perfect, a voice taunted. Then you could yank a slat off the fence and impale the dog with it. They’re so nice and pointy.
Closing his eyes, Cliff rejected the words and abhorrent images they inspired and focused on thoughts of Emma.
She doesn’t want you. You’re just a novelty to her, the voice continued.
A bad boy, another joined in. You know how much women love bad boys.
And a taste of the forbidden.
Once she realizes how fucked up in the head you really are, she’ll run—not walk—into the arms of another.
Fury tore through Cliff, so violent he nearly shook with it, but he resolutely tamped it down and headed for one of the specially designed treadmills the lab boasted.
Emma loved him. He wouldn’t let the madness take that from him.
Determination fueling him, Cliff ran at speeds that would wreck a normal treadmill, as if by doing so he could outrun the insanity that loomed. Melanie and Linda chatted as they studied whatever medical data the vampires’ latest scans provided. One desk had two large desktop computers set up side by side with the backs facing the treadmills. Sometimes Melanie and Linda would sit at them, elbows nearly touching, faces carefully blank. Melanie would type so swiftly her fingers would blur. Linda would look at Melanie’s computer screen, then type something on her own. Melanie would read it, then type again.
Cliff had swiftly concluded this was what they did when they wanted to discuss something without the vampires listening in. They also used sign language. He could’ve easily learned the latter so he’d know what they were talking about but opted not to. He knew how much a lack of privacy sucked and didn’t want to take that little bit away from them.
And considering how setbacks could incite the damned voices, he thought it best if he didn’t know what they discussed in case it didn’t bode well for his future.
Stuart woke around sunset and joined Cliff on his run. He was a good guy. Though he hadn’t been a vampire as long as Cliff, he seemed to be struggling today, too.
Miguel, one of the other vampires housed at the network, wandered in and leaped onto a third treadmill. He was only just beginning to experience the mental deterioration but wasn’t as wary of Cliff as some of the others. Flashing Cliff and Stuart a smile, he tried to race them to see who could clock the highest speed. He even cracked some jokes that managed to take the edge off.
Until Dr. Whetsman made a surprise appearance in the lab.
In no time at all, Cliff found himself grinding his teeth.
It would be so easy to kill him, the voices growled. To wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze. Watch his eyes bulge and fear fill his face while you cut off his breath and tighten your hold until his fucking head falls off.
Cliff clenched his hands into tighter fists as he ran on the treadmill. He’s just an asshole. Not worth my time. The world is full of assholes.
And you can kill them all, the voices pointed out, gleefully providing both verbal and visual suggestions that made The Texas Chainsaw Massacre look as tame as a children’s cartoon.
Fucking Whetsman.
Even the prick’s fear-induced flatulence couldn’t diminish the anger that continued to grip Cliff every time the man opened his damned mouth until Doc Linda suddenly slammed her pencil down, swung on him, and nearly shouted, “Oh, come on! What the hell did you eat today? That’s disgusting!”
Stuart burst into laughter, stumbled, then flew backward off the treadmill and slammed into the huge padded mat Melanie had fastened to the wall behind them for just such occasions. On Cliff’s other side, Miguel did the same while the vamps down the hallway burst into guffaws.
Even Melanie couldn’t hide her laughter as Whetsman’s face flamed and he beat a hasty retreat from the lab, muttering something about unprofessionalism.
Cliff slowed his speed as the anger within him receded. With Whetsman gone, he could once again focus on thoughts of Emma, which reduced the voices to annoying mumbles. His jaw loosened, as did his fists.
A moment later, Bastien strolled in. “What was Whetsman doing in here? I thought that asshole worked the day shift.”
Melanie shook her head. “I don’t know. It was weird. I thought he’d already left.”
Bastien grimaced. “And what the hell is that smell? Did someone die?”
That sent the vampires into another round of laughter.
“I would have,” Linda muttered, “if he’d stayed any longer.”
Melanie’s face creased with a combination of amusement and disgust. “It’s Whetsman.” She nodded at Cliff, Stuart, and Miguel.
Bastien glanced at them, then rolled his eyes. “The man is a menace.”
“You’ll hear no argument from me,” Melanie grumbled.
Curling an arm around her waist, Bastien bent to press a kiss to her lips. “Did he say anything I should kick his ass for?” he asked hopefully.
“No.”
“Damn.” Releasing her, he turned and headed toward the treadmills.
Cliff slowed to a stop and hopped off. Because the equipment had required serious advancements to allow the vampires to run at top speeds, the belt surface was higher off the floor.
“You ready?” Bastien asked.
“Sure.” Cliff followed him out of the lab and down the hallway. The guards stationed in front of the elevator and stairwell door all nodded as they approached.
The ride up was a quiet one.
As always, guilt assailed Cliff. When some of the vampires had begun to grumble about him being the only one allowed to leave the network, Seth had stepped in and shut that down fast.
“When Bastien came to me, he sought permission to take all of you along on his hunts,” the powerful leader of the Immortal Guardians had said. “I told him he could take one of you and only on a trial basis, something I have never allowed in the past. This is not fun and games, gentlemen. This is an experimental treatment, if you will, the equivalent of a Hail Mary pass that we hope will reduce the aggression this virus spawns and buy us more time to find a cure. Cliff has been a vampire years longer than the rest of you, so he is the logical choice. And he has a history with Bastien that makes him far less likely to bolt.”
He had paused then and met each vampire’s gaze, one by one. “Do not forget the purpose of Immortal Guardian hunts. You were wise enough to accept our aid so you would not become monsters. Immortal Guardians hunt and slay the vampires who do not so they won’t prey upon innocents. If you think going out and killing vampires who have succumbed to the same madness he’s battling himself is easy for Cliff, then you’re too foolish to be allowed to join him.”
The vampires had voiced no complaints since.
When the elevator deposited Cliff and Bastien on the ground floor, they crossed the building’s foyer.
John, the brother who held the highest rank among the guards, nodded and tossed them a greeting.
Bastien and Cliff exchanged a few words with him before they headed outside.
Bastien paused. “Do you want to drive or run?”
“Drive.”
They ducked into Melanie’s Chevy and soon left the nondescript network building in the rearview. Cliff suspected Bastien felt as guilty as he did over having to leave the other vamps behind because he always avoided discussing the night’s hunting grounds until they were far enough away that the vamps couldn’t hear them.
True to form, Bastien halted some miles down the road. “How are the voices?”
Cliff grimaced. “They’re back.” He shook his head. “I really had to fight the urge to attack Whetsman.”
Bastien grunted. “Me, too. And all I did was pass him in the hallway. Damn, that man’s annoying.”
Cliff nodded. He shouldn’t have mentioned Whetsman because the voices roared even louder, calling for blood.
“Where do you want to hunt tonight?” Bastien asked.
“How about Duke?”
“Duke it is.”
They found what they sought shortly after arriving on campus. Four vampires. Two victims. Even with extraordinarily enhanced strength on their side, the bastards remained as cowardly as they’d been as mortals, only attacking smaller numbers of humans they knew were weaker.
And they delighted in terrorizing and torturing their victims.
Well, two could play at that game. Drawing his weapons, Cliff cut those fuckers up. And while it dampened the voices, the pleasure he took in the act disturbed him.
What would Emma think if she could see him like this? How would she feel as she watched him tear into those vampires with such viciousness? Would she loathe him for it? Would she fear him?
He didn’t think he could bear either one.
Bastien studied him carefully while they waited for a cleanup crew to come wash down the pavement and collect the dead vampires’ belongings. “You okay to run around on your own, or do you need to hunt again?”
“I’m okay,” Cliff told him. Or he would be once he saw Emma.
“Okay.” He motioned to Cliff’s shirt. “It occurred to me that we wouldn’t have to sneak back into network headquarters without the other vampires seeing you if you changed your clothes first.” Because Cliff hadn’t felt comfortable returning to sublevel 5 and greeting Stuart and the rest with the blood of other vampires on his clothing, Bastien alwa
ys texted Melanie first to determine when they could slip in unnoticed. “So I brought you an extra pair of hunting togs tonight. Do you want to change now before you head out looking for other vampires or after you get back?”
Cliff glanced down. “The blood should alleviate any doubts they have about me, so I’d better keep these on, but I’ll take the clean clothes with me.”
“Okay.”
A network cleanup crew arrived, composed of two men and three women. The men wore jumpsuits that bore a pest control company logo. Each carried a tank in one hand and a sprayer in the other. The women were dressed casually and could pass for students.
“Mr. Newcombe?” the tallest woman greeted them.
“Yes.”
“Hi. I’m Tami. Mr. Reordon sent us.” She glanced at the two injured, unconscious males, at the shriveling-up bodies of the vamps, then took in the copious blood that painted the pavement and grass. If the gruesome scene disturbed her, she let no hint of it show. “We’ll have this cleaned up for you in a jiffy.”
“Thank you,” Bastien said.
Cliff couldn’t help but notice the uneasy sidelong glances the men slid his way and tried to take a page from Bastien’s book. When mercenaries had shot Melanie and nearly killed her, Bastien had flown into a rage and left a bloodbath in his wake. One that had required the network to send a cleanup crew bus. And Bastien hadn’t given two shits about the network employees’ responses when he had helped them tidy up the mess by leaping from rooftop to rooftop and hurling mercenary bodies at that bus.
“Do you know if anything was caught on video?” Tami asked.
Bastien shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. No surveillance cameras were aimed our way while we fought, but the vamps attacked the men before we arrived, so you might want to double-check.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you need any help with the victims?”
“No, sir. We’ll take it from here.”
The second woman knelt beside the unconscious males and set her large purse on the ground. As Cliff watched, she began to remove first aid supplies from it, check the men’s vitals, and tend their wounds with an efficiency that reminded him of Melanie.
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