Cliff’s Descent by Dianne Duvall

Chapter Twenty-Two

6 Months Later

As Cliff slowly woke, the first thing he noticed was that the voices weren’t as loud.

They still growled and snarled, feeding him sadistic suggestions and fueling vile urges. But even the aggression that vampire hunting and nights with Emma could no longer eradicate seemed to have decreased.

What had happened? What was different?

He turned his head, almost expecting to see Emma’s lovely face beside his on the pillow. His condition had deteriorated to such an extent that now the only time he slept without being sedated was when she was in his arms or vice versa.

Alas, she wasn’t there.

Of course she wasn’t. He was in his apartment at network headquarters. Emma never ventured down to sublevel 5. She didn’t have the security clearance required. And even if Reordon gave it to her, Cliff wouldn’t want her to come down here.

He wasn’t the only vampire having psychotic breaks. And since they lacked a personal connection to her, he didn’t trust the others not to harm her.

In rare instances, if all else failed to calm Cliff, Reordon would summon him and Emma to his office and allow them to sequester themselves in his boardroom for a time.

When Cliff had first come to the network, he would never have imagined Reordon would become such a strong ally. But he’d turned out to be a real stand-up guy. He had even provided Cliff with video footage of his worst post-Whetsman psychotic breaks so he could show Emma.

Cliff never wanted her to underestimate the danger he posed. And too, he’d wanted to ensure she wasn’t laboring under any illusions that his condition wasn’t worsening.

Yet she still she loved him. She still fought for him, bolstering his strength whenever his determination to continue fighting wavered.

Sitting up, Cliff swung his feet over the side of the bed and rose.

Yeah, he thought as he headed into the bathroom to perform his usual wake-up ablutions, something is definitely off. His movements felt sluggish, as if he’d been drugged. And the voices in his head were definitely more muffled.

Had one of the guards tranqed him? Sometimes they hit him with a double dose that lingered after he woke. Or maybe he had asked Melanie to sedate him? It took quite a lot of the sedative to put him to sleep now.

He frowned as he tried to puzzle through it. Hadn’t he seen Seth last night?

Memory slowly forced its way through the fog as he grabbed his electric razor.

Yes. He had seen Seth.

A smile slowly stretched his lips as he removed his beard stubble.

Cliff had gone hunting with Aidan and Bastien and…

His eyes widened

They had found two of the missing immortals! A man and a woman. He couldn’t remember their names… or many details other than the two had been prowling UNC Chapel Hill’s campus with a fairly large group of vampires.

Gershom had captured and transformed a dozen gifted ones. And until last night, the Immortal Guardians had only managed to locate and retrieve one.

Now they’d found two more.

Hadn’t a battle taken place?

Hmm. There must have been a battle. Because he remembered Seth praising him afterward for keeping the vampires busy and killing them all so Aidan and Bastien could disarm and hold the immortals until Seth arrived.

Joy rushed through him, accompanied by relief.

Finally. He finally had good news he could share with Emma when he saw her later. I helped Bastien and Aidan rescue two of the missing immortals!

It had been so long since anything good had happened. He couldn’t wait to see her and watch her face light up when he told her.

He glanced at his watch. Unfortunately, he’d have to. The sun hadn’t set yet.

He shrugged. Maybe he could find the new immortals and help them settle in here at network headquarters. Tessa, the only other missing immortal they’d been able to find, had warmed up to him pretty quickly considering she’d met him on one of his…

Well… he couldn’t say one of his bad days. They were all bad says now. So maybe one of his worse days?

Cliff listened to the goings-on outside his door while he dressed in a T-shirt, cargo pants, and boots—all black. The other vampires often teased him about what they called his IG-wannabe attire. They didn’t know that he wore black because he never knew when his mental state might deteriorate so much during the day that Aidan would have to teleport him to the other side of the globe where it was still night and take him hunting because Cliff couldn’t hold out until the sun set.

As soon as he finished tying his shoes, he left his apartment.

Todd and Jin, another guard, walked toward him in the hallway, heading back to their post from he didn’t know where.

Jin nodded, his expression aloof but not hostile.

“Hey, man.” Todd proffered his fist. “How’s it going?”

Cliff fist-bumped him. “It’s going. How’s Cynthia?”

He grinned. “Out of my league.”

Cliff smiled. “But she loves you anyway?”

“Hell yes, she does.”

They had greeted each other thusly for what seemed like forever, and Cliff took comfort in the routine of it. “Hey, do you know the names of the two new immortals? I can’t remember them.”

“Jordan and Liora.”

Cliff silently repeated the names, committing them to memory. “Do you know where they are? I thought I’d say hi and show them around sublevel 5 if no one else already has.”

Todd jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “They’re down in 10. We just came from there. Liora wanted to talk to Melanie, something about blood work. I saw her chatting with Tessa earlier and think she’s starting to grasp the reality of it all. But Melanie and Bastien haven’t arrived yet. Aidan either. They had a long night last night.”

He would imagine so with two new immortals to initiate to the truth.

Todd shrugged. “Sunset isn’t that far away though. Until then, Jared is here if you need anything.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Cliff strode toward apartment 10.

Before he reached it, the heavy door swung inward and a man and woman stepped out. The man—whom he took to be Jordan—was tall and broad-shouldered with dark, closely cropped hair. Liora was shorter with long auburn hair. They appeared to be carrying on a rather heated discussion and didn’t notice him at first. Though their lips moved, they spoke so low that even with his preternatural hearing he couldn’t hear them over the damned voices in his head.

Cliff continued forward, the thuds of his boots drawing their attention.

The moment they saw him, they froze.

He smiled. “Hi. I’m Cliff. We met last night.”

Liora’s eyes widened and color fled her face as she took a hasty step backward.

Jordan’s eyes widened, too. Then his brows drew down in a scowl as he thrust an arm out in front of the woman as if to shield her and pointed at Cliff. “You stay the hell back!”

Caught off guard by the malice reflected in the man’s expression, Cliff halted. “What?”

“You heard me,” he snapped. “Stay the hell away from her.”

“Jordan,” Liora protested softly. But unease darkened the eyes that didn’t stray from Cliff… as though she feared he might attack if she looked away for even a second. “Take it easy. While you were sedated, I chatted with the other vampires. And it isn’t what you think.”

Nodding, Cliff held up his hands in an attempt to appear harmless. “Yeah. I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding.”

If anything, Jordan’s expression darkened further as his eyes acquired an amber glow. “I’m not misunderstanding shit. You tried to kill Liora last night. And you would’ve succeeded if that British immortal hadn’t intervened.”

Ice filled Cliff’s veins. His breath stopped. “What?”

“You tried to kill her!” Jordan repeated furiously. “You would’ve killed her if—”

Jared appeared at Jordan’s side, startling him into silence. “Shut up,” he ordered, face grim.

Jordan scowled up at him. Recovering quickly, he opened his mouth.

Jared waved a hand.

Jordan flew off his feet and through the doorway into apartment 10. A crash sounded just before the door clunked shut.

Cliff’s heart began to pound.

Jared’s expression softened as he looked down at Liora. “Are you all right?”

She nodded.

But she wasn’t. Her hands trembled visibly, and she looked poised for flight.

Jared turned to Cliff. “Ignore Jordan. He’s having difficulty accepting the truth. He doesn’t want to believe it, so he’s lashing out at everyone.”

Jordan’s voice carried through the door. “That’s bullshit and you know it! Keep him the fuck away from her!”

Eyes flashing golden, Jared stared at the door. Another crash resounded inside, followed by a curse.

“What’s he talking about, Jared?” Cliff asked, his voice hoarse with dread as he stared at the ancient immortal. “Did I hurt her? Did I…” He swallowed, then forced himself to continue. “Did I try to kill her? Was he telling the truth?”

Seth had praised him. Cliff had thought he’d helped Bastien and Aidan. He thought he’d helped Liora. But when he forced himself to look at her again, the truth lay in her posture as she edged closer to Jared and in the eyes that held Cliff’s with both fear and sorrow.

No. Not sorrow.

Pity.

Suddenly an image flashed through his mind of Liora stumbling backward as she stared up at him with eyes full of panic, her long hair disheveled. A deep gash on one side of her face bled profusely. More wounds wept on her arms. And Bastien gripped Cliff’s wrists, shouting for him to stop as he fought to keep Cliff from delivering a death blow.

Horror filled him, coupled with self-loathing as he staggered back a step. Then two more. He shook his head, not wanting to believe it.

“Cliff,” Jared said gently, “it isn’t as bad as you think.”

“The fuck it isn’t!” he shouted. “I tried to kill her!”

Stuart and Miguel appeared in the doorway to the infirmary, skin gleaming with a sheen of perspiration from their runs on the treadmills.

“Cliff?” Stuart asked, his face full of concern.

Cliff shook his head, continuing backward, placing more distance between himself and the woman.

Jared’s expression firmed. “Jordan is only telling you half the tale, Cliff. He’s conveniently leaving out the fact that he, Liora, and almost a dozen other vampires were doing their damnedest to kill you.”

Jared’s presence seemed to ease the woman’s fear enough for her to speak. “It’s true,” she said. “We thought you were an Immortal Guardian.”

But Cliff, shaken to his core, barely heard her. He had nearly slain an immortal female. If Bastien had been slower to respond, Cliff would have!

You cut that bitch up, a voice taunted gleefully.

He had laid open her cheek. He’d cut her arms. He’d wanted to kill her.

Why had he thought he’d helped her?

Because Seth lied to you, the voice hissed.

The truth of that simple statement twisted his insides. Seth had lied to him. Seth had even altered his memories. It had to have been Seth. Cliff just couldn’t see Aidan doing such a thing.

But Aidan had been there. Hadn’t he? And he hadn’t stopped Seth. Bastien hadn’t either.

Jared took a step toward him. “Let me help you. Let me calm you.”

Fury consumed him like a flash fire. The voices surged with triumph. “You stay the fuck away from me!” Cliff snarled, not even recognizing his own voice.

Seth lied to you. You trusted him, and he betrayed you. So did Bastien. And Aidan. They all betrayed you. This one will, too.

Kill them. Kill them all!

His pulse pounded in his ears as he curled his hands into fists.

He should. He should kill them all. He’d trusted them not to let him hurt anyone. He’d trusted them, and they’d lied to him!

Yes! Kill them! Butcher them! Fuck them up!

Jared took another step toward him.

Roaring, Cliff shot back to his apartment in a blur and slammed the heavy door.

Once inside, he stood still, breathing hard, every muscle tense. His whole body shook with rage as bloody image after bloody image flitted through his mind.

How many times had they lied to him?

Bastien. Aidan. Melanie. Linda. Seth.

How many atrocities had they covered up?

Were some of the nightmares he had and some of the images that flitted through his mind of brutally tearing vampires apart… memories? Had he done that?

Didhe do that?

He had thought them merely depraved delusions spawned by the madness, like the verbal taunts that maintained a constant litany in his head. But what if they weren’t? What if, instead of delivering a quick death, he inflicted unnecessary agony on the vampires he killed? Vampires who might even be more lucid than him?

How many had he savaged?

Stumbling over to the kitchen, he grabbed one of the barstools and hurled it across the room with such force that it splintered against the wall. A large chunk of drywall fell off, revealing the heavy concrete beneath. He hurled a second barstool. Then a third. Tore the sofa apart. Smashed the large-screen television with the coffee table. Swept everything from the bar.

Pain and despair devoured him inside, ramping up the rage.

How could they do this to him? How could they do this?

He yanked a door off one of the kitchen cabinets and let it fly.

It embedded itself in the bathroom door.

How many victims had they made him forget?

He yanked another off and threw it, the contents of the cabinets tumbling out and littering the countertops and floor.

How many lies had they told him?

He yanked another off and pitched it at a lamp.

He’d waited too long.

He overturned the heavy refrigerator.

Because he’d trusted them to tell him the truth and they’d lied, he had waited too long!

Liora’s bloody face again flashed through his mind as he tore off the oven door with a screech of metal.

What if that had been Emma?

He paused, breathing hard, the oven door clutched in his hands.

What if that had been Emma and Bastien hadn’t been around to stop him?

His grip tightened, compressing the metal and forming grooves beneath his fingertips.

What if he’d had a psychotic break and yanked the watch off Emma’s wrist before she could call Aidan?

He dropped the oven door.

What if Emma has been lying, too? a demon inside him snarled.

Cliff shook his head. No. She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t lie to him.

Everyone else might. But not Emma. Never Emma.

He glanced at the kitchen cabinets, their contents exposed now that he’d obliterated the doors. Stepping over the rubble, he thrust his hands into one and rummaged around.

Panic rose when he didn’t find what he sought.

Frantically, he searched through the pile of crap that had fallen on the countertop, then dropped to his knees and combed through the splintered wood, plastic peanut butter jars, broken glass, boxes of cookies, burst bags of chips. He tunneled through cold tubs of ice cream and frozen foods that had spilled from the overturned fridge, and—

There!

Cliff scrambled across the mess and grabbed the box of graham crackers. Hands shaking, he dumped it upside down. Two sleeves of brown crackers fell atop the mess, followed by a cell phone.

Cliff fumbled to catch it before it could hit the floor, then stood up.

As soon as he touched it, the lock screen lit up and Emma gazed up at him.

His hands shook so badly it took him four tries to type in the passcode.

While the voices howled for him to put the phone down and go fuck someone up, he swiped through the photos.

Emma smiling. Emma laughing. Emma teaching him how to knit winter hats.

They must have made a hundred of those damned things.

Emma speckled with paint and grinning as she brandished a wet paintbrush while they painted her kitchen cabinets.

Emma leaning toward him with a smile full of love.

Moisture welled in his eyes as he wondered how the hell he could tell her what he’d done, that Bastien had had to physically restrain him to keep him from killing a female immortal.

How could he tell her she’d been wrong in her fervent belief that he could win this battle?

How could he admit he’d waited too long?

He swiped to the next photo and the next, his heart splitting.

He’d just wanted to give Melanie and the others more time to find a way to heal him.

He’d wanted to have that happily-ever-after with Emma. To have the house and the picket fence and the children and the dog.

He’d been so focused on the dream… so reluctant to give it up… that he’d missed the moment when the monster growing inside him had snuck up and devoured the last lingering bit of him that she’d fallen in love with.

He swiped again.

A photo of himself grinned up at him.

THIS IS WHO YOU ARE, Emma had written across the bottom.

But it wasn’t, he acknowledged with utter despair.

Not anymore.

Agony engulfing him, Cliff tightened his hold on the phone until a spiderweb of cracks streaked across the screen, distorting his image. Then he slung it across the room.

It shattered when it struck the wall, tiny pieces scattering like buckshot.

Unfortunately, it couldn’t erase the image of himself from his mind.

“That isn’t who I am,” he murmured hoarsely.

He looked at the chaos that surrounded him, the destruction he had wrought, and saw again Liora’s bloody face.

“This is who I am.”

The voices roared in triumph.

Beneath them, a heartbeat sounded.

Cliff spun around.

Jared stood behind him. Reaching out, he touched his fingertips to Cliff’s forehead. “Sleep.”

Darkness fell.