of you along on his hunts,” the powerful leader of the Immortal Guardians had said. “I told him he could take one of you and only on a trial basis, something I have never allowed in the past. This is not fun and games, gentlemen. This is an experimental treatment, if you will, the equivalent of a Hail Mary pass that we hope will reduce the aggression this virus spawns and buy us more time to find a cure. Cliff has been a vampire years longer than the rest of you, so he is the logical choice. And he has a history with Bastien that makes him far less likely to bolt.”
He had paused then and met each vampire’s gaze, one by one. “Do not forget the purpose of Immortal Guardian hunts. You were wise enough to accept our aid so you would not become monsters. Immortal Guardians hunt and slay the vampires who do not so they won’t prey upon innocents. If you think going out and killing vampires who have succumbed to the same madness he’s battling himself is easy for Cliff, then you’re too foolish to be allowed to join him.”
The vampires had voiced no complaints since.
When the elevator deposited Cliff and Bastien on the ground floor, they crossed the building’s foyer.
John, the brother who held the highest rank among the guards, nodded and tossed them a greeting.
Bastien and Cliff exchanged a few words with him before they headed outside.
Bastien paused. “Do you want to drive or run?”
“Drive.”
They ducked into Melanie’s Chevy and soon left the nondescript network building in the rearview. Cliff suspected Bastien felt as guilty as he did over having to leave the other vamps behind because he always avoided discussing the night’s hunting grounds until they were far enough away that the vamps couldn’t hear them.
True to form, Bastien halted some miles down the road. “How are the voices?”
Cliff grimaced. “They’re back.” He shook his head. “I really had to fight the urge to attack Whetsman.”
Bastien grunted. “Me, too. And all I did was pass him in the hallway. Damn, that man’s annoying.”
Cliff nodded. He shouldn’t have mentioned Whetsman because the voices roared even louder, calling for blood.
“Where do you want to hunt tonight?” Bastien asked.
“How about Duke?”
“Duke it is.”
They found what they sought shortly after arriving on campus. Four vampires. Two victims. Even with extraordinarily enhanced strength on their side, the bastards remained as cowardly as they’d been as mortals, only attacking smaller numbers of humans they knew were weaker.
And they delighted in terrorizing and torturing their victims.
Well, two could play at that game. Drawing his weapons, Cliff cut those fuckers up. And while it dampened the voices, the pleasure he took in the act disturbed him.
What would Emma think if she could see him like this? How would she feel as she watched him tear into those vampires with such viciousness? Would she loathe him for it? Would she fear him?
He didn’t think he could bear either one.
Bastien studied him carefully while they waited for a cleanup crew to come wash down the pavement and collect the dead vampires’ belongings. “You okay to run around on your own, or do you need to hunt again?”
“I’m okay,” Cliff told him. Or he would be once he saw Emma.
“Okay.” He motioned to Cliff’s shirt. “It occurred to me that we wouldn’t have to sneak back into network headquarters without the other vampires seeing you if you changed your clothes first.” Because Cliff hadn’t felt comfortable returning to sublevel 5 and greeting Stuart and the rest with the blood of other vampires on his clothing, Bastien always texted Melanie first to determine when they could slip in unnoticed. “So I brought you an extra pair of hunting togs tonight. Do you want to change now before you head out looking for other vampires or after you get back?”
Cliff glanced down. “The blood should alleviate any doubts they have about me, so I’d better keep these on, but I’ll take the clean clothes with me.”
“Okay.”
A network cleanup crew arrived, composed of two men and three women. The men wore jumpsuits that bore a pest control company logo. Each carried a tank in one hand and a sprayer in the other. The women were dressed casually and could pass for students.
“Mr. Newcombe?” the tallest woman greeted them.
“Yes.”
“Hi. I’m Tami. Mr. Reordon sent us.” She glanced at the two injured, unconscious males, at the shriveling-up bodies of the vamps, then took in the copious blood that painted