Cliff's Descent

by Dianne Duvall

“I’m Mattheus. It’s an honor to meet you.”

  The greeting stunned him. “It’s an honor to meet you, too.” He looked at the others. “All of you. But time is short. Seth has tasked me with getting you through the fail-safes, so if you’ll follow me at a distance—”

  Boots clomped beneath the wonk wonk wonk of the alarm.

  Cliff whirled around just as three soldiers swung around a corner up ahead.

  Swearing, the soldiers opened fire.

  Cliff shot toward them. Blades flew from the walls, slicing his flesh, two embedding themselves in his side. Bullets peppered him.

  Growling, he dove at the soldiers and slew them all.

  Pain inundated him.

  Gritting his teeth, he turned toward the immortals and motioned them forward. “Move forward at mortal speed.” He drew the blades out and dropped them to the floor.

  Mattheus was the first to reach him. “Let me go through the next one.”

  “No. I can guide you through safely.” Three doors opened onto the hallway. Cliff nodded to them. “We should check those so we’ll know if the rooms have fail-safes, too.” It only took seconds, and none did.

  “Okay. Follow me.” Cliff headed up the hallway.

  Behind him, Mattheus ordered two immortals to remain behind and take out any guards they encountered.

  At the next intersection, Cliff called a halt. This was taking too long. He needed to find the damn sensors so they could pick up the pace.

  Guards at the far end opened fire but only managed to hit Cliff twice before an immortal teleported behind them and snapped their necks.

  Cliff darted forward with enhanced speed. Pain struck. He jerked to a halt. Something whizzed past his front, missing him by a hair’s breadth.

  He looked down. What looked like a tranquilizer dart—much larger than the compact ones the network had developed—stuck out of his shoulder.

  He plucked it out.

  Mattheus and the others caught up to him.

  “What is it?” Mattheus asked.

  A slight lethargy drew Cliff’s notice. He shook his head. “I think it’s the tranquilizer.”

  “You think?”

  He nodded. “The virus fuels me with so much energy and aggression now that one dose hardly affects me.” He pointed at the hallway at the far end of this one. “Don’t go down that without me doing it first.”

  He returned to the primary corridor while Mattheus again assigned men to search the rooms.

  “I can see the sensors now,” Cliff announced with relief. They were ingenious, blending seamlessly with the rest of the wall. But now that he knew about where they should be situated and what to look for, he could spy them. “Watch carefully.” Backing up a few of steps, he raced forward at preternatural speed, angling toward one side, and—just before he reached the first sensor—jumped up. His right foot hit the wall a foot above the sensor as his body canted sideways. His left foot hit the wall yards away above another. His right hit the wall again and pushed off. Then he landed on the floor at the next intersection, having triggered not one fail-safe.

  Yes!

  Bullets plowed into him.

  Snarling, Cliff swung around to face the soldiers firing at him from the end of the long corridor.

  “Rafe,” Mattheus called.

  The teleporting immortal appeared behind the humans and took them out.

  A river of black flowed up the wall behind Cliff, following his exact path.

  Cliff didn’t wait for them. He entered the adjacent hallway. Saw the same sensors. Showed them the path to take. Did the same with the next hallway. When he reached the next, a quick scan revealed no motion sensors. He checked the floor. Nothing. Had they thought the immortals wouldn’t get this far?

  He shot toward the opposite end.

  Pain lacerated his arms.

  Skidding to a halt, he took in the new gashes and the blades that had carved them.

  Damn it. What had he missed?

  He saw no sensors in the walls. Nothing on the floor.

  He looked up. There. “The sensors are in the ceiling on this one.” Sticking close to the wall, he darted forward again and made it safely to the end. “Hug the walls and you’ll get through.” A burning began at the site of the wounds, as if the blades had been coated with cayenne pepper. But the ground began to tremble beneath his feet, a rumble accompanying it, reminding him they needed to hurry.

  Wiping it from his mind, he lunged forward.

  And so it went. Cliff took the lead in every hallway, racking up wounds while he found routes of safe passage for the others. They could have navigated the hallways at mortal speed, but time was tight. The roar of gunfire filled the air constantly. And they couldn’t afford to give any mercenaries a chance to flee.

  The base was big and boasted many corridors, almost every one of which sported fail-safe measures of one kind or another. Every blade that cut or impaled Cliff, every bullet that pierced him, seemed to clear his head more. The pain that buffeted him intensified by the second. But he kept pushing forward, kept clearing paths, showing the immortals how to remain unscathed, hoping every life he saved would redeem him for those he’d taken. And those he had almost taken.

  Mattheus tried to stop him, tried to take the lead to spare him. “We can take more damage than you, damn it.”

  But Cliff shook his head and continued onward. “It has to be me.”

  “Seth wouldn’t want you to—”

  “It has to be me,” Cliff repeated resolutely. Because this had to end. Tonight.

  He had lost his battle with the madness. But he would win the war. He’d let these fail-safes bleed the monster right out of him and deny it dominion. Instead of killing innocents and having to be put down like a rabid dog, he would sacrifice himself for others. It was the closest thing to a heroic death he could hope for.

  So he ran the gauntlet. Again. And again. And again.

  And as he did, he stopped seeing the guards who shot him.

  Instead he saw Emma’s beautiful face.

  He stopped hearing the monster inside him howl its fury over being thwarted.

  And instead heard Emma’s off-key singing. The musical sound of her laughter. Her gasps of ecstasy. And the affection that laced her voice as she told him she loved him.

  He stopped feeling the cuts, the gashes, and the blades sinking deep into his flesh.

  And felt her lips brush his instead.

  Too late, he noticed something off about the floor in front of him. The tile beneath his foot sank a millimeter. The wall beside him exploded. Fire scorched him. Agony assailed him as the blast swept him off his feet. So much pain battered him that he couldn’t make a sound as he flew through the air, then hit the floor, skidded across it, and slammed into something hard.

  A crack sounded. More pain ricocheted through his head.

  All strength left him as he lay there, stunned into immobility.

  Blood rattled in his lungs as he struggled to draw breath.

  Blurring, dark forms swarmed forward and crouched around him.

  His heart strove to beat as a face appeared before him.

  Not that of the Immortal Guardian bending over him. But Emma’s.

  Instead of large fingers searching for a pulse in his neck, he felt Emma’s delicate fingers caress his face.

  His lips turning up in a faint smile, Cliff surrendered to oblivion.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Emma didn’t know how long she sat there, crumpled on the boardroom floor, sobbing her heart out, before murmuring voices carried to her from Mr. Reordon’s office through the open door.

  Footsteps approached, alerting her that someone had entered.

  “Oh shit,” Cynthia whispered.

  Emma forced herself to look up as her friend hurried toward her.

  Dropping to her knees, Cynthia wrapped her arms around Emma and drew her into a tight hug.

  Emma sagge
d against her, crying so hard she couldn’t speak.

  “It’s okay,” Cynthia whispered, rocking her and patting her back. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. You just cry it out, honey. I’m here for you.”

  Kate appeared a moment later with a box of tissues and two bottles of water.

  “Thank you,” Cynthia murmured.

  Nodding, Kate set them down within reach and left.

  “Here.” Yanking a few tissues from the box, Cynthia pressed them against the back of the hands Emma wept into.

  Emma accepted them gratefully and wiped her running nose.

  Keeping one arm around her, Cynthia grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the lid off behind Emma’s back, then offered it to her. “Take a sip.”

  Leaning away a little, shoulders slumped, Emma did as bidden. Her choppy breathing didn’t make it easy. But her eyes, cheeks, and nose were hot from weeping, and the cold liquid felt good sliding down.

  Cynthia opened the other bottle and wet a wad of tissues with it. Like a mother tending a child, she patted Emma’s heated skin and puffy eyes. “What can I do?” she asked gently.

  More tears spilled over Emma’s lashes as she shook her head. “N-Nothing.” Her breath hitched. “He’s gone.”

  Her friend’s eyes widened with dismay. “What?”

  “Cliff’s g-gone.”

  “Oh no. Oh honey.” She pulled Emma into another hug.

  Emma blew her nose and wiped her eyes but couldn’t seem to stem the tide of tears as she gave Cynthia an abbreviated account of what had happened.

  “But Cliff’s tough,” Cynthia said. “You know that. I’m sure he’ll kick ass, take names, then come back and give you all the—”

  “No. He won’t,” Emma told her. “I saw it in his eyes. He isn’t coming back. This is how he wants to go. He’s going to die tonight.”

  Saying it out loud just sparked another round of sobs.

  Cynthia stayed with her, holding her, rocking her, and making soothing sounds.

  What felt like hours passed before a throat cleared.

  “Cyn?” a masculine voice said tentatively.

  They looked over.

  Todd stood in the doorway, his expression somber and uncertain. “Kate asked me to come. She thought you might want me to drive you and Emma home.”

  Cynthia glanced at Emma. “Do you want to go home?” She dabbed her face with more cool tissues. “Or you could come to our place. Why don’t you do that? Why don’t you stay with us tonight? I promise Todd won’t snore.”

  Todd nodded as if he were silently vowing not to snore.

  “Home,” Emma said softly. “I want to go home.”

  “You got it, honey. Whatever you want.” Cynthia rose, drawing Emma up with her. “Sweetie, would you get the tissues and the water, please?”

  “Sure.” Todd hurried forward and grabbed the bottled water and box of tissues. “You want me to pick these up?” He motioned to the tear-soaked, snotty tissues that littered the floor around them. “I saw a wastebasket in Reordon’s office. It’ll just take a minute.”

  Kate’s voice carried to them from the next room. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Okay.” He hovered behind them as they left the boardroom.

  Kate stood beside Mr. Reordon’s desk. “Here.” She handed Cynthia her purse, then turned to Emma. “These are for you.” She held out a pair of scuffed running shoes. “I think we wear about the same size.”

  “Thank you.” Emma sat on the sofa she and Cliff had occupied several times and slipped her bare feet into the sneakers, which fit comfortably enough. As soon as she stood, Cynthia wrapped an arm around her once more and Todd resumed his hovering.

  “Don’t worry about work, Emma,” Kate said as they left the office. “You take as much time as you need. We’ve got your back.” Even she didn’t believe Cliff was coming back.

  “Thank you.” Emma straightened her shoulders before they hit the lobby but still drew stares as Todd and Cynthia escorted her out of the building because she couldn’t calm her damn breathing.

  Or maybe it was just the shattered look on her face or the grim expressions on the others’.

  When they reached a dark SUV, Cynthia climbed in the back seat with Emma and gave Todd directions. Once they reached Emma’s home, Cynthia dug out her keys and used the spare Emma had given her to unlock the door.

  The TV was still on.

  So much had happened since Seth had popped in and told her they needed her at the network that Emma couldn’t believe so little time had passed.

  “Wow,” Cynthia said, looking around. “This place looks fantastic.”

  Emma hadn’t realized until then just how long it had been since she’d had Cynthia over for a girls’ night. “Cliff helped me fix it up.”

  Cynthia and Todd both swung around to stare at her.

  Ignoring them, Emma shuffled into her bedroom and dug out a pair of pajama pants and a loose tank top, adding panties and a bra in deference to Todd’s presence. “I’m going to take a shower,” she mumbled.

  “Okay.” Cynthia whispered something to Todd, then joined Emma in the bathroom.

  Emma found a faint smile. “You planning to join me?”

  Cynthia laughed. “No. I just don’t want you to be alone.”

  Emma didn’t either. “Thank you.”

  “Anything you need, I’m here. Todd is, too. I hope you don’t mind, but I told him to order a couple of pizzas. He was wringing his hands and looking adorably anxious because he wants to help but has no idea what he should be doing right now.”

  “He’s a good guy.”

  Cynthia smiled. “Yeah, he is.”

  Aside from cooling her puffy face, the shower did little to make Emma feel better. Her eyes continued to water like a leaky spigot. Every limb seemed heavier. She just felt utterly and completely exhausted. Too much to partake of the fragrant pizza Todd had ordered. “I think I’m just going to go to bed.”

  “Okay.” Cynthia followed her into the bedroom. “You want me to sit with you?”

  “Yes, please.” Emma curled up under the covers with her knees practically touching her chest, faced the wall, and closed her eyes.

  Cynthia sat behind her on the bed and leaned back against the headboard, reaching over to rub Emma’s shoulder.

  “Would you turn the TV on?” Emma asked after a minute. “It’s too quiet.”

  “Sure. Anything in particular you feel like listening to?”

  “I don’t care. I just need something to drown out my thoughts.”

  “All righty. You got it.”

  Soon tense music and explosions filled the bedroom as Cynthia chose what sounded like an action flick.

  Emma closed her eyes, trying to visualize whatever took place on the screen.

  But all she saw was Cliff’s face and the love and finality that had filled his glowing amber eyes as he’d cupped her face and said, “Thank you. For everything.”

  * * *

  Cliff blinked. Dark arboreal giants towered over him, their limbs forming a complex canopy. Stars winked down at him between the branches. Cool ground cushioned his back.

  Flexing his fingers, he curled them around crisp brown leaves, pine needles, and soil.

  Slowly he sat up and looked around.

  Where was he?

  Several moments’ thought failed to enlighten him.

  The stars in the sky and darkness beyond the forest indicated it was nighttime. But nighttime where? He and Bastien usually hunted on college campuses.

  Again he glanced around.

  This was not a college campus.

  And Bastien was nowhere in sight.

  He rose, every limb oddly heavy.

  His ears felt funny. Like someone had stuffed cotton in them or something.

  Had he been tranqed?

  He sniffed.

  Trees. Soil. Decaying leaves. And sm
oke.

  He glanced to the right. The smoke didn’t smell like the kind produced by burning wood in a fireplace or cooking over a charcoal grill. It reminded him instead of the smoke that had suffused the air the morning mercenaries had attacked network headquarters.

  He faced that direction.

  Was network headquarters through there? Had mercenaries attacked it again?

  He waited for alarm to fill him at the prospect, but it didn’t. He felt oddly… detached.

  Voices floated to him on the breeze, managing to penetrate the cotton in his ears. Using them as his guide, Cliff stumbled forward.

  After a minute or two, the trees and foliage began to thin. Then he stepped out into a large clearing.

  About fifty yards away, a group of men and woman garbed all in black clustered together on a cement slab.

  He looked around. Why would a cement slab lie in the middle of a clearing with no other structures in sight?

  Two figures raced toward him.

  Bastien and Melanie. Both drew him into a hug.

  “What happened?” he asked dully. “Did I have another break?” It would explain why the voices in his head had gone eerily silent and why he felt so out of it. “I don’t remember what happened. Where are we? How did I get here?”

  Melanie shook her head. “You helped Seth save us.”

  “I did?”

  Bastien nodded.

  Cliff could call forth no memory of that.

  Melanie’s eyes bore a faint glow as she blinked back tears and rubbed his arm. “Are you okay?”

  He glanced down. Moonlight provided enough illumination for him to see the numerous holes, tears, and burn marks that marred his clothing. Though blood streaked his arms, nothing hurt. How long had he been unconscious? “Yeah.” It must have been quite a while if his wounds had healed. “My ears feel funny.” And everything else just felt… off. Sluggish. His mind foggy or something.

  Had they given him too much sedative?

  Bastien and Melanie exchanged a concerned look.

  Gently clasping Cliff’s chin, Melanie turned his head from one side to the other, then ran her hands along his limbs. Her brow furrowed. “I see blood, but I don’t see any wounds.”

  Across the way, Seth frowned. “His wounds are all healed?”