the night Cliff had gone into battle returned full force. If what he said was true, then they were out of time. Everyone knew the vampiric virus came with a fucked-up catch-22: kill the virus and you leave the vampire or immortal who’d been infected with it with no functioning immune system.
“Yes,” Cliff answered solemnly.
Bastien took another step toward them. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure, yeah.”
“What did Melanie say?”
“I didn’t tell her,” Cliff admitted. “I wanted to spend whatever time I had left with Emma. And I knew if I told Melanie, she’d want me to stay at network headquarters so she could run tests and—”
“So she could stop it,” his friend said, looking as alarmed as Emma felt.
“She can’t stop it, Bastien.”
“You don’t know that,” Bastien nearly shouted.
“Yes, I do!” Cliff shook his head, then motioned to his face. “Look at me. Saying goodbye to Emma is wrenching my fucking heart out. Do you see my eyes glowing?”
Bastien scoffed. “That could be the sedative’s influence.”
“And the fact that I no longer have superspeed or strength? No preternaturally enhanced senses? No fucking fangs?”
His fangs were gone, too?
Despair filled Emma. Cliff hadn’t chosen to die tonight.
He had been dying ever since he’d returned to network headquarters.
He had simply wanted to spend his last moments with her as soon as he’d realized it.
And she’d yelled at him for it.
“Cliff,” she said, full of remorse.
Bastien pointed at her. “No. He isn’t dying.” Then he scowled at Cliff. “You don’t know that the poison killed the virus. What if it merely suppressed it? Or counteracted the most notable symptoms?”
Cliff gave him a sad smile. “You’re grasping at straws.”
“No. Those are valid fucking questions.”
Cliff held out his arm. “Do you smell the virus on me?”
Frowning, Bastien gripped Cliff’s wrist and brought it to his nose. He drew in a deep breath. Held it. Let it out. “No. But I’m not an elder. I can’t always smell the virus on vampires and immortals.”
“You can’t smell the virus because it’s gone.”
“You don’t know that,” Bastien insisted.
Emma bit her lip as the two stared at each other, apparently at a stalemate. “Maybe we should call Aidan.”
Seconds later, a tall, dark figure abruptly appeared right in front of her.
Shrieking, Emma stumbled backward.
“What happened?” Aidan demanded. “Your watch called me. Are you hurt? Is Cliff okay?”
Shit. She’d forgotten they’d programmed her watch to call him if she ever spoke the words Call Aidan. “I’m okay,” she told him. “But Cliff needs you.”
Aidan turned to examine the scene.
Cliff stood placidly while Bastien gripped his wrist.
If Emma wasn’t so damn distraught, she would’ve laughed.
Even as upset as he was, Cliff cracked a smile.
Bastien’s face, however, remained dark and angry. “Smell him. Tell me if you smell the virus.”
His expression saying he questioned Bastien’s sanity, Aidan accepted Cliff’s wrist and sniffed it. His brows drew down. Then he sniffed again, drawing in a deeper breath. “What the hell?” he muttered. Palming a dagger, he sliced open Cliff’s palm.
Cliff hissed in pain.
Emma cried out and started forward, but Cliff thrust out his other arm and stopped her.
Latching onto his hand, she gripped it in both of hers.
Aidan brought Cliff’s bleeding palm to his nose and drew in another deep breath. His eyes widened. He looked at Bastien, then Cliff, his face full of… confusion? Fear? “I can’t smell it. I can’t smell the virus.”
Cliff tugged his hand free. “Because it’s gone. The poison destroyed it.”
“What poison?” Aidan demanded.
“The poison that coated some of the blades that cut me at the military base.”
Aidan shook his head. “Poison doesn’t affect us.”
“This one does,” Cliff snapped. He held up his hand. “The wound is still bleeding and is showing no signs of healing. My eyes no longer glow. My fangs are gone. And I no longer have enhanced senses, speed, or strength.”
Dread filled Aidan’s features. “If the poison killed the virus…”
“Then I’m dying.”
“Seth,” Aidan said.
Emma jumped when the Immortal Guardians leader appeared beside them. His hair was shorter than the last time she’d seen him, stopping above his shoulders.
Seth took in the tableau—the devastation on her, Bastien, and Aidan’s faces—then turned to Cliff, his face solemn.
“It isn’t what you think,” Cliff said. “They didn’t call you here to kill me. The poison already did that.”
Seth frowned. “What poison?”
Cliff sighed as though he’d grown tired of recounting it. “Some of the blades loosed by the fail-safes were coated with poison. I don’t