Bound Guardian Angel (45 page)

“Uh . . .” Sam’s face
flushed, and she briefly glanced down. “I guess you could say
that.”

“And I missed it?” Micah looked back and
forth between them. “Damn. I would have paid good money to see
that.” He smirked at Cordray.

“I bet you would,” Cordray replied.

“Okay, so what does my mate punching you
have to do with you having an advantage?”

“Sam?” Cordray raised her chin at her.

Sam met her gaze then looked at Micah. “She
can’t feel.”

Micah’s frown was almost comical. “You
can’t?”

“Nope. Not a thing.” Cordray took another
sip of coffee. “So, when some guy as big as a skyscraper punched
me, I was able to keep on going. You, on the other hand, you’ll
feel it.”

“Only if I let him hit me.”

“Are you saying you’re going to request an
audition?”

“Maybe.”

Sam didn’t even blink. Apparently, she was
already used to Micah putting himself in harm’s way and coming out
aces. Then again, the guy was pretty badass, as far as fighters
went. And he had been for as long as Cordray could remember.

She’d never crossed paths with Micah in her
youth, but she’d known of his reputation. Everyone had. She also
knew that he’d been one of her father’s most coveted warriors. He’d
even had a hand in training her brother. If only he knew as much
about her as she did about him, maybe he wouldn’t be so quick to
criticize and discredit her.

“I’m not sure what good it will do, since
I’m such a new member, but I could e-mail Digon and vouch for you,”
she offered.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because it might make it easier for you to
get an invite. Grudge Match has a thorough vetting process to
screen candidates. Since you’re a member of AKM, that might make
them wary. And let’s face it, your reputation does precede you,
Micah.” His shoulders lifted almost proudly, but before he could
say anything, she quickly added, “Which could be to your detriment.
You’re a hothead, and you’re also keenly devoted to King Bain and
the vampire way. That could be enough to make them reject you.” She
paused, knowing on one hand that she shouldn’t be telling Micah any
of this, but knowing on the other that if Micah was allowed into
Grudge Match, the two of them could work together to find the bad
eggs in Digon’s club. Bad eggs who were using Grudge Match to help
supply Bishop with test subjects for his experiments. Members who
could provide more direct clues to Royce’s involvement. Maybe even
Digon himself was guilty, but she doubted it. That wasn’t the vibe
she got from him. But if he was guilty, and the entire fight club
was one huge sourcing pool, if she and Micah worked together, they
could strike a major blow to Bishop, Royce, and whoever else was
working to weaken the vampire race.

Micah studied her through narrowed eyes.
“I’ll ask again. Why would
you
want to help
me
?
What’s your angle?”

She had to appreciate his cunning and
intellect. He knew she would never willingly lift a finger for him
if she wasn’t due to get something from the effort. They didn’t
have that kind of relationship. Not yet, anyway. Maybe they never
would, but if they did this and found success, it would go a long
way toward bridging the professional gap between them.

She leaned back and crossed one leg over the
other, setting the base of the coffee cup in her lap. “Let’s be
honest, Micah. You can do things I can’t. Things that could really
come in handy inside Grudge Match.”

Suspicion pinched the corners of Micah’s
eyes as he lowered his chin and angled his body away from her.
“Like what?”

“Like, for instance, your annoying ability
to see people’s thoughts undetected.” She shrugged. “I can’t do
that. Yeah, sure, maybe I can work through Trace’s mental defenses
when you can’t, but he can feel me doing so if he pays attention.
So can others.” Which was the frustration where Grudge Match was
concerned. “Digon has already warned me not to poke around in other
members’ thoughts.”

“Really?”

“Don’t look so smug.” She drummed her
fingers irritably on the side of her mug. “I tried to see inside
his thoughts—he’s the one who runs Grudge Match, by the way—and he
got upset. Told me not to do it again, and not to do it to anyone
else if I wanted to avoid unnecessary entanglements.”

Micah smirked and let out an amused huff. “I
think I like Digon already.”

“Think again. He’s a dreck.”

“A dreck?”

“Yep, and my guess is that he comes from
money. He holds himself almost regally and has an accent I can’t
quite place, but he sounds affluent. It’s obvious he likes the
finer things and has the resources to obtain them.” She remembered
Digon’s TAG Heuer watch, the elegant accoutrements in his office,
and the designer shoes. Even his denim trousers had been
couture.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he
said.

“That all depends on what you’re
thinking.”

Micah shifted forward to sit on the edge of
his chair, his hands linked between his knees. “What I’m thinking
is that a dreck with that kind of money could be funding Bishop’s
experiments if Royce isn’t.”

Cordray bobbed her head to one side. “That
thought
had
crossed my mind.” She downed the last swallow of
coffee. “But here’s the problem. I can’t see inside his thoughts to
figure out just how deep he’s in the shit, if he even is at all.
That’s where you come in. You can go where I can’t, and no one will
be the wiser.” She held his gaze for a prolonged moment then said,
“So . . .? What do you think? Can we put our
differences aside long enough to work together on this? I’ll do
what I can to help you get an invitation. You do what you can to
get through the gauntlet. Then we pool our resources to bring Royce
and that fucker, Bishop, down.”

Micah hesitated as if weighing the pros and
cons of Cordray’s plan. A moment later he stood and held out his
right hand. “I’m not too proud to say I like how you’re thinking on
this, C. This could work, but it doesn’t mean we’re friends. Just
business partners. Just so that’s clear.”

“Crystal clear, because I’m not particularly
fond of you, either.” She stood and clasped his hand.

“That’s because the two of you are so alike
it’s scary,” Sam said from the kitchen, flashing them both a
playful glare.

“We are not.” Micah swung his gaze around to
eye his mate with an almost fearful expression on his face.

Sam laughed. “No one likes to see their
faults reflected back at them from someone else, which is why
people who are a lot alike sometimes don’t get along.”

Cordray pulled her hand from Micah’s. “No.
Absolutely not. I’m with Micah on this one.”

Micah’s gaze collided with hers. “At least
we can agree on that.”

“Besides”—Cordray sat back down—“I don’t
have any faults.”

“Whoa, hello!” Micah ass-parked back in his
chair. “Wrong answer.”

“As if you’re so perfect,” Cordray shot
back.

“Damn straight. I’m fucking awesome.”

Cordray scoffed, shaking her head. “You
wish.”

Sam laughed even louder than before. “What
did I tell you? You two are like mirrors for each other. No wonder
I like you both so much.”

Cordray eyed Micah out of the corner of her
eye as he did the same to her. The realization that Sam might be
right dawned on them both at the same time.

Micah’s top lip curled. Cordray wrinkled her
nose.

He swallowed thickly and looked like he
might get sick as he stood. “I think I’m going to take a shower,”
he said dully, as if the thought that he and Cordray were alike
tainted every inch of his skin like a layer of soot.

Cordray knew how he felt. As soon as she
left, she would swing by her mansion on the North Shore for a
shower and a change of clothes not only to wash off the stench of
vomit but the feeling that she might have absorbed some of his
aura. But first, she needed to tell him what she’d learned about
the ankh, as well as the message from Skeletor.

“Wait, there’s more.” She sounded like one
of those stupid commercials on TV.

Micah’s shoulders wilted. “What?”
Apparently, he was as ready to be rid of her as she was of him.

“Skeletor. He contacted me.”

Micah’s posture stiffened as he sat back
down. “I’m listening.”

“He hacked me yesterday while I was
piggybacking off your system. We had a, um . . .
shall we say it was an interesting exchange of messages?”
Interesting because Skeletor knew who she really was, which was
something Cordray would pointedly leave out of this discussion.

“Tell me.”

“Let me tell you what I learned about the
ankh first. Then I’ll tell you what happened with Skeletor.”

She proceeded to explain that the ankhs were
really keys that opened portals between dimensions and that back
before the time of the pharaohs, lycans and other mystical beings
were using the ankhs to open those gateways.

“Why? What was their purpose?” Micah
said.

“To bring in beings to help build the
pyramids, work the land, perform rites”—she shrugged—“and do all
kinds of things. According to the archives, lycans guarded the
gates and possessed the only keys to open them, so I’m not sure how
your father got his hands on one.”

Micah shrugged. “Who knows?” He rubbed the
scruff over his chin and jaw. “So where is this portal or gateway
my ankh unlocks?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. Or whether
or not you’d know if the ankh opened more than one, because some
ankhs could open a group of gates.”

Micah shook his head. “I’ve got nothin’.
Like I said, my father died before he could tell me much about it.
Did you learn anything about who would have knowledge about how the
ankh works?”

“If I had about a decade to kill, I could
probably find the answers in Bain’s archives. Being that I don’t,
the next best place to find answers is from the lycans.”

Micah nearly spit out a sip of coffee. “The
lycans? You’re kidding, right? You know they won’t want to help
us.”

“I wish I were kidding, but no. I’m as
serious as sin. And you don’t know that they won’t be willing to
help. Maybe they’re not big fans of our race, but we’re not at war
with them and never have been.”

“Tell that to Memnon.”

True, vampires and lycans had never engaged
in outright war, but Memnon held little love for vampires, which
was why he moved his family west and demanded that the rest of the
packs living in the United States do the same. The eastern half of
the country was dominated by vampires. The western half belonged to
the lycans, and any vampires inside his territory had to operate by
his rules. His code.

“Fine. Memnon’s a dick. But”—Cordray held up
her index finger—“from what I found, lycans are the key masters,
and Memnon is at the top of the food chain. Lycans created the
gates, coding each one to an ankh that would unlock it. They
supposedly know where all the portals are, too. They’re the ones
who first mapped them. The first to use the ankhs to open the
gates. The first, period. They were on this planet before we were,
and from what I read, they weren’t exactly excited when the first
vampires slipped through one of their portals by accident.”

“Accident? What kind of accident?”

“I don’t know the details. All I could
decipher from the archive was that it was some kind of accident and
the vampires were never meant to come through, and the lycans
couldn’t reverse what happened and send the vampires back, so they
were stuck here.”

“Interesting.”

“I know, right? My point is, if Memnon
doesn’t know how your ankh works to open a gate, or which gate it
opens, no one will. Unless Skeletor has figured that shit out. In
which case, the sooner we consult with Memnon, the better.
Otherwise, who knows what Skeletor could unleash on the planet if
he manages to open a portal and invite in an army of supernatural
beasts to do his bidding.”

Tension marked Micah’s face. “Good point.”
He paused, and his eyebrows bunched together. “What doesn’t make
sense, though, is if the lycans are the key masters, how did my
father obtain one of their keys?”

Cordray let out a long, heavy exhale. “I
don’t know. That’s a question only your late father—and maybe
Memnon—can answer.” She set down her coffee cup and rubbed her
temples. Her headache had receded to a dull throb, but it was still
bad enough to bring mild waves of nausea every few minutes.

Micah scrutinized her in the silence that
followed. “So, how is it you have access to King Bain’s archives to
research this stuff? AKM doesn’t even have that kind of clearance,
and we’re supposed to be the ones guarding the kingdom.”

She swiped her hand horizontally in front of
her as if brushing away eraser shavings. “I do special work for
Bain. That’s all you need to know.” Because she sure as hell wasn’t
going to tell Micah she was Bain’s sister and could do pretty much
whatever she wanted. “But I did find an ancient map in Bain’s
archives that seemed to illustrate where all the portals in the
world were at that time. Unfortunately, I couldn’t make heads or
tails out of it. But I bet the lycans can.”

“Great, so all I need to do is find a
lycan.”

Cordray shook her head. “Not just any lycan,
Micah. If I were you, I’d grow a pair and take this straight to
Memnon or Rameses. You know how riled up they get when someone
circumvents their leadership.”

Memnon and Rameses—but especially
Memnon—weren’t known for their benevolence.

A troubled shadow fell over Micah’s face as
he looked away.

“What?” she said. “What’s wrong?”

His gaze darted to hers. “What do you
mean?”

“You look uneasy. Don’t tell me you’re
scared of them?”

“Hell no.”

“Then why do you look so upset?”

He shifted and cleared his throat. “It’s
nothing.”