Cliff’s Descent by Dianne Duvall
Chapter Four
Cliff’s knee bobbed up and down, nearly dislodging the elbow he’d propped on it.
Swearing, he rose and began to pace. Agitation crawled through him like ants, making it impossible to sit still.
“Fucking mercenaries,” he muttered.
Fury suffused him. Curling his hands into fists, he took a deep breath and fought it back.
A month had passed since the mercenary attack that had resulted in him and Joe being captured and tortured, the trauma of which had driven Joe to succumb to the madness entirely.
Cliff swallowed hard as sorrow rose. He hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to his friend. He hadn’t been able to. That ate at him. But Bastien had said Joe wouldn’t have recognized him if he had. Joe had been so far gone that he hadn’t even recognized Melanie and Bastien. All he’d done when they’d tried to help him was snarl and rant and fight his restraints.
“We tried so hard to reach him,” Melanie had told Cliff, tears coursing down her cheeks as she fought back sobs. “We tried so hard to guide him back to us.” But they’d ultimately had to admit defeat.
Abiding by his wishes, she and Bastien had sedated Joe, then drained his blood and… let him go.
Cliff had been oblivious to it all because whatever torture he had endured at the hands of the mercenaries had triggered his first psychotic break. He didn’t remember any of it. The torture. Being rescued. Coming back to network headquarters.
He glanced around. Or rather to the new network headquarters. The original one hadn’t been salvageable.
Even the days that had followed his return were a bit of a blur.
Hell, he barely remembered the mercenary attack itself. Just little flashes here and there. Few specifics.
His inability to recollect his actions that night troubled Cliff deeply. Vince and Joe had suffered the same selective amnesia after their psychotic breaks. Neither had recalled the rage that had gripped them or the injuries they’d inflicted upon others.
Had Cliff injured anyone that night? The night of his break?
He didn’t care about hurting the damned mercenaries but felt sick at the notion that he might have harmed one of the employees or guards here at the network.
Or maybe more than one.
Bastien and Melanie had assured him he hadn’t. They’d painted him a hero, going on and on about the lives he’d saved. But was that true? Or was it bullshit spouted with good intentions?
They had always downplayed the violence and harm Joe and Vince had spawned during their breaks. Cliff had too, not wanting his friends to have to contend with guilt as well as the madness. So he couldn’t help but wonder if Bastien and Melanie were doing the same for him now.
Pacing did little to calm Cliff’s mind or banish the anxiety that rode him.
Crossing to the phone, he stared down at it a moment, shook his head, then took another deep breath and dialed the infirmary.
“Dr. Whetsman,” a man answered.
Biting back a curse, Cliff advised himself to remain patient. Whetsman was his least favorite doctor at the network. “It’s Cliff. I could use some exercise. Would you open my door so I can run some miles on the treadmill?” Melanie and Linda wouldn’t hesitate. They even left his door open for hours at a time now so he could roam sublevel 5 and visit Stuart. But it was lunchtime. Melanie and Linda worked the night shift. And Whetsman—
“No. You should be resting.”
—was a prick. Cliff ground his teeth and kept his response calm and casual. “I can’t sleep. I think I just need to get some exercise. Wear myself out a little.” He forced a light laugh. “A run should help.”
Silence. “I think it inadvisable. You can exercise tonight.” Whetsman ended the call.
Cliff slammed the receiver down. “Pussy.” Whetsman was so terrified of the vampires that he made damn sure he was never alone with any of them and was too stupid to realize his fear and his persistence in treating them like escaped serial killers constantly on the prowl for new victims was so fucking annoying that he actually triggered some of the vampires’ breaks.
Cliff resumed his pacing and again found no relief. Stopping, he perused his apartment. His shoulders slumped. Looked like he’d just have to play some video games to try to—
His doorbell rang.
Cliff spun toward the door as someone typed a code into the pad outside it and swiped a security card. Hope rose. Had Whetsman actually manned up and changed his mind?
A clunk sounded. The door swung inward.
Cliff remained where he was, not wanting to spook the asshole.
Instead of Dr. Whetsman, however, Todd—one of the guards who usually manned this floor—poked his head in. “Hey, Cliff.”
“Hey.”
“Mr. Reordon would like to see you in his office.”
Shit. Had Whetsman called Reordon and complained?
What a dick. “Okay.”
Smiling, Todd backed away to give Cliff room to exit and join him in the hallway.
Todd was a good guy. He had been the first guard to stop reaching for his weapon every time the vampires left their apartments. And his relaxed demeanor had gone a long way toward ending the other guards’ tendency to tense up… and had helped Cliff and the other vampires feel more comfortable in their new home.
The guards manning the desk in front of the elevators nodded a greeting as Cliff and Todd approached them.
“How’s it going?” Cliff asked.
A jumble of the usual “good” or “not bad” responses ensued.
When Cliff and Todd stepped into the elevator, five guards joined them.
Todd swiped his security card and typed in a code.
The doors slid closed.
Normally Cliff would crack a joke to ease the tension, but he was too damn agitated today to come up with anything. “How’s Cynthia?”
Todd grinned. “Out of my league.”
One of the other guards snorted. “Way out of his league.”
“Hell yes, she is,” another agreed.
Unoffended, Todd shrugged. “But she loves me anyway.”
Cliff forced a smile. “Lucky man.”
“Damn straight.”
As soon as the elevator reached the ground floor, the guards escorted him to a long hallway that he assumed led to Reordon’s office. Though Cliff didn’t look back to confirm it, his acute hearing told him more guards entered the hallway behind them, hands probably on their weapons.
Cliff didn’t know what to think of it all. This was the first time he had been above ground—except for the night of the attack, that was—since he had surrendered to Seth and the Immortal Guardians. Disappointment filled him as he took in the lack of windows. It would’ve been nice to see some greenery. Some sunlight. Though he supposed it was better for him that there weren’t windows. If any sunlight touched his skin, it instantly began to burn and blister.
Todd led him through a doorway, then paused.
Cliff looked around. The room reminded him a little of the reception room at a high-end doctor’s office. Comfortable seating took up half the space. File cabinets and a large desk decked out with lots of computer paraphernalia occupied the rest.
A pretty brunette woman seated behind the desk looked up at their entrance.
A slew of guards filed past Cliff and fanned out around the edges of the room.
But the woman paid them little heed as her hazel eyes met his.
Cliff waited for her to tense up, pale, or make some other involuntary display of nerves.
Instead she smiled.
Did she not know he was a vampire? Because her heartbeat didn’t even increase.
Rising, she rounded the desk and approached him. “Hi, Cliff. I’m Kate.” She offered him her hand.
Surprised, he took it and gave it a firm shake. “Nice to meet you.”
Her smile broadened into a grin. “I’m so glad you’re back and that I have this chance to thank you.”
He glanced at Todd, who just watched them with a smile. “Thank me?”
Nodding, she patted their clasped hands. “We’ve actually met before. I don’t blame you for not recognizing me. I looked like I’d been rolling in dirt and ash and didn’t even recognize myself when I looked in the mirror.” She loosed a self-deprecating laugh that drew a smile from him. “I’m one of the employees you saved when the mercenaries attacked.”
He stared at her in surprise. “Oh.” He had no memory of that. At all.
“Thank you again.” After one last pat, she released his hand.
“You’re welcome.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Oh screw it. I hope you don’t mind this.” Leaning in, she stunned the hell out of him by giving him a big hug. “I never would’ve survived if you hadn’t gotten me down to that escape tunnel. I was injured and barely made it to sublevel two. And mercenaries were right behind me.”
Cliff darted the guards a wary glance and spread his arms slightly, hands open, afraid to make even the slightest move that might inspire them to tranq him.
Though the guards he didn’t know narrowed their eyes and tensed, those who had accompanied him from sublevel 5 remained relaxed. Some even appeared amused when he just stood there, afraid to respond.
Kate backed away and scowled at the guards. “Oh, would you guys just relax already? We’re trying to have a freaking moment.”
Todd snorted when he tried and failed to hold back a laugh.
Cliff didn’t expect the men to react. But damned if they didn’t immediately snap to attention, release their weapons, and shift their gazes to stare straight ahead.
“Better,” she said with a smile, then gave Cliff another hug.
Amusement sifted through him, dispersing some of his anxiety. Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her and returned her hug.
Out of all the things becoming a vampire had deprived him of, Cliff thought he missed human touch the most. He had gone a long damn time without it. So long that he had nearly wept the first time Melanie had hugged him.
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.