Fury rolled through him, exciting the voices and amplifying their calls for violence.
That’s Linda’s blood! He killed her! He tortured her! He cut her up! Cut him up! Butcher him!
“What did you do?” Cliff growled, tightening his grip on Whetsman’s arm.
Bone snapped and crunched beneath the pressure.
Whetsman screamed.
Cliff shook him like a dog with a toy. “What did you do?” he bellowed. Spinning, he yanked the scientist across the hallway and slammed him into the wall.
More! Fuck him up! Fuck him up! the voices demanded, filling his mind with gruesome ways he should punish the bastard for killing Linda. For killing his friend.
“Help me!” Whetsman screeched. “Kill him! Kill him!”
Like Whetsman had killed Linda?
Fuck that.
An alarm began to blare. Boots pounded up the hallway.
Cliff threw the man across the hallway again, taking pleasure in the crack that sounded as Whetsman’s head struck the wall.
A dart skimmed past Cliff’s nose. He ducked a second one, then a third.
The snicks of suppressed gunfire filled the air.
Bullets struck his torso. Agony tore through him, merely heightening his fury.
Roaring, he bent over Whetsman where he’d crumbled to the floor, picked him up, and hurled him at the guards who ran toward them, weapons raised.
The gunfire stopped. Swears erupted as bodies tumbled to the floor.
Cliff started toward them, seeing nothing now but the man he wanted to rip to shreds.
More bullets peppered him.
Cliff stumbled backward, howling in pain and fury as Whetsman picked himself up and limped toward the elevator.
That fucker was getting away!
Cliff shot forward at preternatural speeds, bowling through bodies, seeing no faces, only impediments keeping him from reaching Whetsman before—
The asshole ducked into the elevator and the doors slid closed.
“No!” Cliff slammed into them full force. The heavy metal dented with a thunderous rumble but didn’t halt the elevator’s ascent.
Something jabbed him in the back. Ignoring it, Cliff dove for the door to the stairwell, plowing through more obstacles he barely acknowledged were guards. Men cried out as he batted them aside and leaped up to the first visible landing. Dizziness rose. Lethargy threatened, dragging at his legs like a strong river current as he raced upward, one floor after another, passing shadows that emitted screams so loud they matched the voices that kept yowling in his head, lending him strength and driving him onward.
Cliff stumbled out of the stairwell onto the ground floor.
Halfway across the lobby, Whetsman tripped and fell to the floor. A dozen guards followed and hovered over him while he clutched his arm and shouted, “He’s crazed! He’s fucking crazed!” When the scientist spotted Cliff through the dark legs surrounding him, he shrieked, rolled onto his belly, and started scrambling away.
The guards spun around.
Too late.
Cliff covered the distance between them in one leap. Grasping the back of Whetsman’s coat, he lifted him above his head and slammed him down again.
The scientist screamed.
That’s it! Hurt him! the voices clamored. Make him bleed! Make him scream! Make him beg for mercy!
More snicks sounded while the alarm continued to blare.
Bullets struck Cliff in the back and burst from his chest. Breathing became a struggle. Blood poured from his lips. But all Cliff saw was Linda’s blood on Whetsman’s coat.
Fuck him up! Make him bleed the way he made her bleed!
Lifting the scientist, he threw him across the lobby. The sound of bones snapping brought Cliff joy as the fucker hit the wall. Leaping across, Cliff caught him before he hit the floor and hurled him at the granite desk.
More crunches and snaps. Blood spewed from the man’s mouth and trailed down his face as he collapsed in a heap.
Sharp pain erupted in Cliff’s neck.
His head swam. The voices in his head slowed, slurred, and stuttered to a halt.
“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” someone—was that Todd?—shouted.
Staggering, Cliff reached up and found something protruding from his flesh at the nape of his neck. He yanked it out. His balance wavered as he stared down at a tranquilizer dart.
His arm fell to his side. The dart clattered to the floor. He lurched backward a step.
A few feet away, Whetsman moaned.
Cliff sank to his knees.
Finish him off, a drunken voice mumbled in his head.
The warm blood saturating Cliff’s clothing cooled beneath a ceiling fan that rotated lazily above him.
He shivered.
All strength deserting him, he collapsed onto his side.
Pain careened through his head when it rebounded off the hard floor.
Blood rattled in his lungs as he struggled to breathe.
The entrance of the building… the door that led outside to sunshine and blessed oblivion… was the last thing Cliff saw before darkness enveloped him.
* * *
Emma’s knee bobbed up and down as she stared at her computer screen without seeing it.
Something had happened. Something big. Something bad. She just didn’t know what.
An hour ago the network’s alarm had begun to wonk, wonk, wonk, startling the crap out of her. A male had spoken over the intercom, issuing a shelter in place order. Then a loud rumble had echoed up the elevator shaft.
Screams erupted from the stairwell. Seconds later a few bodies ran past her closed door.
Emma thought she caught the snicks of suppressed gunfire and broke out in a cold sweat.
Were mercenaries attacking again?
Fearing the worst, she ducked under her desk and exchanged her pumps for the running shoes she always kept on hand now. Then she waited, heart pounding in her chest, hands shaking.
The alarm ceased blaring.
Mr. Reordon’s voice came over the intercom. “Attention, all personnel. Thank you for your patience and cooperation. A security breach took place that required our immediate attention. It has now been resolved. The threat has been neutralized. And all is well. You no longer need to shelter in place. Be advised, however, that as a purely precautionary measure, the building will temporarily remain on lockdown. I will notify you as soon as the lockdown is lifted.”
What the hell had happened? He’d said nothing in the hour since, so she assumed they were still on lockdown.
Emma tried and failed to concentrate on the task at hand.
When knuckles suddenly rapped on her door, she jumped about a foot. “Come in.”
Cynthia poked her head in, her face somber. After glancing over her shoulder, she ducked inside, closed the door, and crossed to seat herself in the chair on the other side of the desk.
The grim look on her friend’s face made everything within Emma go still. Her knee stopped bobbing. For a moment she even forgot to breathe. “What is it?” she asked, unable to bear the silence.
“Todd just texted me.”
“What happened? Did mercenaries attack? Is Todd okay?”
“It wasn’t mercenaries. And he’s okay. He wasn’t injured. But, honey…” She bit her lip and shook her head.
“What?” Emma prodded, so tense she wanted to scream.
“Todd said Cliff had a psychotic break.”
Alarm set Emma’s heart to pounding. She gripped the edge of her desk, holding on so tight it was a wonder her blunt fingernails didn’t score the wood. “Is he…?”
“He isn’t dead,” Cynthia told her. “But it was a bad one. He attacked one of the doctors.”
Oh no. “Was it Dr. Lipton?”
“No.” Her brow furrowed. “I think his name started with a W.”
Whetsman. Anger rose. That bastard was always antagonizing Cl
iff.
“Apparently Cliff really tore into him. I mean, he beat the shit out of him. And the guards had to shoot Cliff multiple times to get him to let the doctor go. Todd said he might have brain damage.”
Tears blurred Emma’s vision, then trailed down her cheeks when she blinked. “Cliff?”
“No. Whetsman.” Cynthia shook her head, her features full of regret as sympathetic tears welled in her eyes. “Todd said Cliff was crazed, Emma. That he also injured some guards.” Every word cut like a knife. “A lot of them. They had to sedate him to… to bring him under control again and keep him from killing the doctor. A few of them were so angry that…”
“What?” Emma said, her voice thick. “Tell me all of it.”
“They wanted to shove him out into the sun.”
Her chest hitched with a sob.
“But they didn’t!” Cynthia blurted hastily. “They didn’t, Emma. Todd wouldn’t let them. Neither would Mr. Reordon.”
“Where is he?”
“Cliff?”
Nodding, Emma opened a drawer and fumbled for a tissue to dab her eyes.
Again Cynthia bit her lip. “They chained him up in a holding room and are waiting for Seth to arrive.”
To heal him or to execute him?
That question coupled with the image of Cliff chained down, unconscious and bleeding in some cold cell, tore great gasping sobs from Emma’s chest. Folding over, she buried her face in her hands.
“Oh honey.” Cynthia hurried around the desk, wrapped her arms around Emma, and hugged her close. “I’m so sorry. I know how much you care for him.”
But she didn’t. Cynthia thought Emma loved Cliff from afar, like a shy teenager with a crush on the high school quarterback. She didn’t know the two of them had been meeting in secret. That they spent hours together every night. That Emma had kissed him. Made love with him. Learned every aspect of his personality and constantly craved his company. Cynthia didn’t know that Emma had laughed with him. Teased him. Enjoyed long, relaxing bubble baths with him. Lost herself in passionate encounters in the shower. Held him while they talked for hours and kept the voices at bay.
She couldn’t lose him. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready.
She would never be ready.
But she could do nothing to stop Seth from taking him from her. Or Reordon. Or Bastien who—despite his love for Cliff or perhaps because of it—would take Cliff’s life in a heartbeat if he thought it would end his friend’s suffering.
Emma couldn’t even tell Cliff goodbye because she wasn’t allowed on sublevel 5.
More sobs rocked her as Cynthia tightened her hold and stroked her hair.
Chapter Seventeen
A breeze cooled Cliff’s warm skin as four vampires shriveled up at his feet.
Bending down, he used the shirttail of one to wipe the blood from his blades before he slid them into their respective sheaths.
“Any wounds I should know about?” Bastien asked.
Cliff shook his head. “You?”
“No.”
He didn’t have to look to know his friend’s gaze followed his every move as Cliff collected the fallen vampires’ weapons.
Almost a week had passed since he’d fucked up Whetsman so much that the man had suffered traumatic brain damage even Seth couldn’t reverse. Cliff had no memory of it. He remembered being with Emma the night before, then… nothing… until he woke up in the infirmary with Bastien, Melanie, and Linda hovering over him while the German immortal Alleck loitered nearby.
Apparently Whetsman had been mind controlled by Gershom into stealing vials of the sedative that could be used to knock out Immortal Guardians. Linda had thought his behavior in the lab odd, noticed some vials were missing, and followed Whetsman out to his SUV to ask him about them. When she confronted him, Whetsman shot her with a 9mm equipped with a suppressor Gershom must have given him and left her to bleed out in his back seat while everyone inside remained unaware.
According to what everyone had been able to piece together, Cliff had been restlessly prowling sublevel 5 when he noticed specks of blood that smelled of Linda on Whetsman and went medieval on his ass. No one had known what had instigated the attack, however, until Seth scrutinized Cliff’s thoughts.
Cliff couldn’t bring himself to overly regret hurting Whetsman. The bastard had almost killed Linda. But the guards…
The constant acidic burn in his belly worsened.
He’d injured so many men in his blind determination to get to Whetsman. Guards on sublevel 5 who had previously been friendly and shot the breeze with him now tensed at his appearance and watched him warily. At Cliff’s request, Reordon had shown him footage of it, from the time Cliff had left his apartment until the second he’d collapsed in the lobby, where Todd and John had had to restrain some of the guards topside to keep them from shoving his unconscious form out into the sunlight.
Cliff thought the guards had been more than justified in calling for his death. But surprisingly Reordon had disagreed and had torn into the men when he’d arrived on the scene.
It had come as quite a shock. Reordon was very protective of those who worked for him. Cliff would’ve thought he’d be calling for his head after seeing the damage Cliff had wrought. But he hadn’t. Reordon had even allowed Bastien to resume taking Cliff hunting, though he’d put an end to Cliff’s eating lunch on sublevel 1.
“I hate to do it,” he’d told Cliff in the privacy of his soundproof boardroom, “but there were some civilians in the stairwell you stormed up—”
“I didn’t hurt any, did I?” Cliff had asked with alarm.
“No. You just scared the hell out of them. And I can’t chance your having a psychotic break like that on sublevel 1. Dealing with that isn’t part of the civilians’ job description. The guards, on the other hand, all know their position is dangerous. They know what they’ve signed up for. They’re aware of the risks. And they agreed to take them. That’s why I reassigned the guards who wanted to roast you to desk jobs at another location that will bore the pants off them.”
“I injured some of their colleagues.”
“And they knew that could happen. What they did was the equivalent of someone signing up to work at a mental health facility that cares for patients with psychological disorders that cause violent tendencies, then beating the shit out of the patients if they become violent. It was bullshit.”
Cliff hadn’t really thought about it like that. Turning to Bastien now, he held up the weapons he’d collected. “What do you want me to do with these? This dagger isn’t bad, but the rest are crap.”
Bastien produced a bag for the weapons and personal belongings of the vampires. Since the two of them had caught the vampires before they could pounce on the unsuspecting women they stalked, there were no mortal victims that would necessitate a cleanup crew tonight.
Once he tucked the weapons in the bag, Cliff bent to collect the wallets and clothing that remained after the vamps finished disintegrating.
He hadn’t seen Emma since his break. No access to sublevel 1 meant no lunches with her. And since Bastien had resumed taking him hunting two nights ago, Cliff had remained with him the entire time instead of roaming alone.
As soon as they finished tidying the battle scene, they headed back to Melanie’s car.
“You want some time to yourself tonight?” Bastien asked casually as he tossed the bag in the back seat.
“No, thanks.”
“You sure? I brought the duffel with a change of clothes.”
“No. I’m good.”
Bastien slammed the door shut and stood staring at it for a long moment. A long sigh escaped him. “That’s bollocks.”
“What?”
Lips tightening, Bastien rounded on him. “I said that’s bollocks. How long are you going to keep beating yourself up about this, Cliff?”
He stiffened. “I killed Whetsman.”
“No, you didn’t. Seth k
illed him.”
“After I brain damaged him beyond repair.”
“He fatally wounded Linda and left her bleeding to death in his car,” Bastien said, his voice rising. “I would’ve done the same damn thing to him. Hell, Melanie probably would have, too.” Cliff seriously doubted that. “And if she didn’t, Alleck sure as hell would have.”
Frustration rose. What did Bastien expect him to do, just brush it off as if he’d accidentally tripped someone? “He only did it because Gershom mind controlled him. And what about the guards?” He glared. “Did you forget about them? How many guards did I hurt, Bastien? How many fingers did I break when I yanked their weapons out of their hands with preternatural speed and strength? How many arms did I snap and legs did I shatter trying to get past them to Whetsman? How many concussions did I give them?”
Bastien made a scoffing sound. “How many guards did I give concussions and how many arms did I break when I forced my way into network headquarters after they refused to let me see Vince when he was suffering? Do you think I lie awake, agonizing over that?”
“This is different.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes it is!” Cliff shouted. “Because you know you won’t do it again, and I know I will! And I’ll do it again and again and again until someone puts me down like a rabid dog!”
Silence fell.
Cliff began to pace slowly, forcing back the violent impulses that threatened to rise again, tamping down the voices that urged him to fly into another full-blown rage.
Bastien drew a hand down his face and let out a long weary breath. “Well, fuck.”
Exactly.
“Technically speaking,” his friend mused, voice calm now, “I don’t know that I won’t do it again because some of those guys at the network still chap my ass.”
A laugh caught Cliff by surprise.
“Honestly, the only one who doesn’t is Todd.”
“Yeah. He’s a good guy.” And the only one who didn’t walk on eggshells around Cliff now.
“So… what?” Bastien asked. “You’re going to punish yourself for something you neither asked for nor have any control over by denying yourself the only happiness you’ve found since transforming?”
Cliff's Descent Page 18
