Bound Guardian Angel

by Donya Lynne

  Dr. Snow addressed the nurse. “Keep him heavily sedated and start pumping him full of fresh blood. And up his dosage of buprenorphine.”

  Micah had heard of bupe, as it was called on the street. It was an opioid used to counteract human opioid addiction. How about that for fighting fire with fire?

  “You’re using bupe on him?” he said.

  The doctor nodded. “Yes. We’ve found it’s as effective in vampires against cobalt as it is in humans against opioids.”

  “But not as effective as Io’s all-natural approach.”

  “No, but much more palatable.”

  From what Micah knew of Io’s anti-cobalt tonic, which was used inside AKM for the most extreme overdoses, it wasn’t the tastiest of concoctions, but it sure got the job done. It had helped Miriam beat her own cobalt addiction in record time, keeping her indiscretions out of the public eye. Something King Bain was extremely grateful for. The last thing he needed was bad press on the royal family.

  The nurse helped Trevor get Kieran settled back into bed. Then Trevor gently pulled the sheet over him as if he were tucking a fragile Fabergé egg into a velvet pillow. From the awestruck expression on Trevor’s face, as well as the way he pushed back Kieran’s shaggy, dark-brown hair then brushed the backs of his fingers down his cheek, he clearly wasn’t going anywhere soon.

  Stryker helped clean up the room. Broken equipment was hauled out as limping orderlies brought in new monitors and an IV.

  Dr. Snow lightly touched his arm. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about.” She bobbed her head toward the door as she stepped toward it.

  Micah regarded Trevor. “Hey, Trev. You gonna be okay in here while I talk to the doc?”

  Trev looked up, his gaze glossy, as if he were having a special moment with demon boy. “Yeah. Fine. I’m fine.”

  As Micah passed Stryker on the way out of the room, he said, “Could you stick around for a few and help Trevor keep an eye on that guy.”

  Stryker gave him a single, tight nod. “I don’t need to be anywhere right now. I’ll hang here for a while.”

  “Thanks.”

  Micah followed Dr. Snow to the other side of the circular nurse’s station. Everyone was busy putting the pieces back together, picking up dropped supplies, and straightening strewn paperwork, so no one paid them any attention.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “It’s about Savill.”

  Savill was the young male Bishop had turned into a dissection tutorial in his lab. Thankfully, they’d been able to rescue the kid before he died. Hopefully, that hadn’t changed since the last time Micah had checked in on him, because the doctor’s expression was pretty grim.

  Micah snapped to attention, his sore abdomen and jaw forgotten. “Is he okay?”

  Dr. Snow paused. “We found his parents.”

  Based on her tone, this wasn’t a good thing. “And . . .?”

  She sighed and brushed back her hair. “Micah, they’re human.”

  That sound splatting in Micah’s ears was the proverbial shit hitting the fan.

  “Human? How is that possible?”

  “They adopted Savill when he was just an infant. They didn’t know.”

  As if Savill’s situation wasn’t bad enough. Surviving and coming through this ordeal alive had just become the least of his worries, because with human parents, odds were damn good that Savill had no idea he was a vampire. And since he was still young—barely twenty years old, if that—he probably hadn’t yet experienced any significant physical changes to raise concerns.

  And yet Bishop had still been able to identify him as a vampire. Poor kid probably had no idea why he’d been taken or what was happening to him.

  “What’s the status? Have the parents been handled?” he said.

  “Yes, a team from AMD was sent to fix the situation.”

  The Adjustment and Manipulation Department—AMD—was responsible for handling such cases. All the King’s Men had protocols in place to handle situations like this, where efficiency, delicacy, and attention to detail were required. Pictures were faked, false stories were concocted, and any and all bases were covered. No doubt AMD had already supplied the CPD with a file detailing Savill’s “abduction.” Or maybe they had told the parents Savill had been killed in some tragic accident. Micah had no idea how the AMD did its job. He just knew they did it and covered the vampire race’s collective ass.

  “What about Savill? Has he been told?”

  Dr. Snow shook her head. “He’s still in an induced coma, one I’m inclined to prolong under these new circumstances.”

  “I agree. Hearing he’s a vampire could blow a fuse bigger than the incision down his abdomen.” He dragged his palm down his face then stood akimbo, head bowed. “Jesus, this is a mess.”

  The doc let out a heavy sigh. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  He raised his head. “Why? What haven’t you told me?”

  She cursed and looked away, her expression grim. “We’ve taken some blood.”

  “And . . .?”

  “There are some anomalies.”

  “What kind of anomalies?” A sinking feeling dipped into his gut.

  Worry filled her eyes. “Micah, he’s not half-human.”

  “But I thought . . .” Micah frowned past her shoulder to the prone form of the young male in the room behind her. “Isn’t he a mixed-blood?”

  “Yes, but he’s not a vampire-human mix.”

  Something in Dr. Snow’s tone made dread shimmy down his spine. “Then what is he?”

  “Micah, Savill is half lycan.”

  Well, how about that? A vampire and a lycan had gotten together and made a love child. There went the neighborhood. This had to be the third time today hell had frozen over.

  “Are you sure?”

  She gave a single nod. “I personally ran the results myself. Three times. I’m positive.”

  “Fuck me.” Micah rubbed his palms up and down his face.

  No one in the vampire community would want to take in a young that was half lycan. It was too risky.

  This was a double dose of shit news. Savill needed someone to help him acclimate to his new world, but no one would lift a finger to help a young, pre-trans lycan, even one that was only a half-blood.

  It wasn’t that vampires and lycans didn’t get along. The two races got along fine, or as fine as they could. They weren’t besties by a long shot, but for the most part, they coexisted peacefully with one another, if not a bit tensely at times, given their history. The problem was that when it came to lycans, no vampire wanted to risk getting in the way of a mouthful of juvenile lycan fangs, and who knew whether Savill would lean toward vampire or lycan once he reached maturity? It was a toss-up. There wasn’t a lot of precedent to provide an informed hypothesis about how a vampire-lycan mix would mature, and lycan genes were the only ones on earth strong enough to compete with those of a vampire.

  He could contact Memnon and Rameses for help. They were the leaders of the lycans. But they would probably disown Savill rather than take him in or offer assistance. After all, in their eyes, Savill was a genetically inferior orphan. Hell, they might even kill him. Lycans were a lot stricter on mixing bloodlines than vampires, so it was a wonder Savill had been conceived at all. Some lycan had risked an awful lot—including his place in the lycan hierarchy—to mate with a vampire. Micah wasn’t sure if that was incredibly courageous or insanely stupid.

  Either way, he was in a tight spot. No way would he hand Savill over to Memnon and Rameses if there was even a chance they would kill him, but who could he convince in the vampire community to take Savill in? And how would he convince them when there was no way to know which genes would dominate Savill’s blood once he matured?

  He needed to do some research to see if something like this had ever happened in the past and how it had turned out.

  “Goddamn it.” He glanced back inside Savill’s room. “This is shit ugly news.”


  Dr. Snow followed his gaze. “Tell me about it. He’s going to need constant monitoring once he comes out of this.”

  If he came out of it, because they still didn’t know if Savill would survive the damage Bishop had done to him.

  “Any ideas how to handle that? Given what we now know about his lineage?” Because no way could they release Savill into someone’s care without providing full disclosure.

  The doc shook her head. “Not yet, but he’s going to need someone to take him in and teach him about his new life. We can’t just toss him back out on the street. He’ll never survive. He’s going to need a lot of care and counseling, Micah, and I can tell by your reaction that you already know how hard that’s going to be to find under these circumstances.”

  “Damn near impossible.” Micah shook his head, feeling about as helpless as a peanut.

  The electronic ringtone of his mobile phone snagged his attention. Damn, couldn’t he get just five minutes to think?

  He pulled the phone from his pocket. Sev.

  “I’ve got to take this,” he said to the doctor. “But I’ll do some checking and get back to you about Savill.”

  She nodded and turned her attention back to Kieran’s room as Micah started out of the trauma ward.

  “Sev, hey. You at the Millennium garage?”

  “Yeah. Found your guy’s motorcycle, too.”

  “How do you know it’s his?” Micah pushed through the double doors leading back into the outer hall.

  “Because he left you a note.”

  Micah came to an abrupt stop. “He what?”

  “It’s actually a poem, but it’s definitely for you.”

  Something in Sev’s wary tone rankled Micah’s nerves. This was going to leave a bad taste in his mouth, wasn’t it?

  “What’s it say?”

  Sev awkwardly cleared his throat. “It says”—Sev let out a heavy exhale—“why don’t I just send you a picture?”

  “Do that.”

  He disconnected, and a moment later, his phone vibrated with a text. He opened the attachment. The poem had been handwritten in neat, block print.

  Oh, mighty Micah

  You aren’t as tough

  As I’ve been led to believe.

  You’re just a pussy

  A great big wussy.

  You make me want to heave.

  You think you’re good

  You think you’re great

  But I do so make this oath.

  I stole the key

  It’s now with me

  And good luck finding both.

  Rage boiled inside Micah’s blood as he hit Sev’s speed dial. That little prick.

  “Our guy’s a real Shakespeare, isn’t he?” Sev said.

  “Shakespeare’s dead, just like he’s going to be when I find him. Get over to the Heritage hotel. I’ll call you back in five.” Micah disconnected, already storming toward the surveillance room, where Io was hopefully making headway on his background checks. Micah refused to rest until this cocky little fucker went down, and everybody had better be with him on that or they’d get his booted foot up their asses, too.

  “Tell me you’ve found something,” Micah said as he burst through the door.

  Io had just stuffed half a Snickers bar in his mouth and turned toward the door, eyes wide. He glanced at his screen then gave Micah a helpless I-just-got-started-so-how-could-I-have-found-something look as he started chewing.

  Micah leaned over Io’s shoulder, scanning the screens, unable to make sense of anything Io was working on.

  Io chewed as fast as he could then swallowed. “Jesus, Micah, I’ve only been at it for thirty minutes. Do you know how many people live in the Heritage?”

  “No.” He hit Severin’s speed dial and cranked his phone to his ear.

  Io’s fingers began flying over his keyboard. “Well, it’s a lot. There’s a lot of people to check.”

  Sev picked up. “Micah, hey, I’m at the Heritage.”

  “Find anything?”

  “Define anything.”

  Micah could already tell he wasn’t going to like what Sev had to tell him. “What did you find?”

  “You’re not gonna like it.”

  Hopefully it wasn’t another in-your-face poem, or Io’s console might be in danger of suffering a natural disaster at the hands of Hurricane Micah.

  “Tell me.”

  Sev let out a heavy breath. “You know how Chicago has an underground pedway?”

  The pedway consisted of five miles of underground tunnels pedestrians could use to travel around the heart of Chicago without exposing themselves to the elements.

  The bad feeling in Micah’s gut intensified. “Yeah? What about it?”

  “The Heritage has access to it.”

  “Motherfucker! I knew you were going to say that.” Micah snapped his fingers in the direction of Io’s keyboard. “Bring up a map of the pedway.”

  Io made a few keystrokes, and the map popped up on his center screen.

  Just as Micah thought. The Heritage was smack in the middle, with branches of underground walkways extending in all directions. “Damn it.” He slammed his palm on the desk. Skeletor could be anywhere.

  “Your guy could have gone anywhere,” Sev said, as if reading Micah’s mind.

  Io’s shoulders drooped as he sat back in his chair. “Let me guess, our guy doesn’t live at the Heritage. He only used it as part of his escape route.”

  “That’s what it looks like,” Micah said.

  “So the trail’s gone cold?” Io shoved the other half of his Snickers bar in his mouth. The room smelled like chocolate and peanuts. Just how many of those things had Io eaten since killing his Tootsie Pop?

  “Yeah,” Micah said. “Stone cold unless Sev can pick up any clues.” To Sev he said, “See if you can find anything. This guy likes to play with us. Maybe he left something for us to find.”

  Or maybe he made a mistake. That would be even better. Given Severin’s history as special forces in the human military, if Skeletor had left anything behind, Sev would find it.

  “I’ll see what I can dig up.” Sev disconnected.

  Micah raked his fingers through his hair and began pacing. Think, Micah, think. Who could he have pissed off who would want to seek retribution against him? Well, shit, that was a pretty long list. But who of that list had this kind of verve? This kind of intelligence and cunning? These resources?

  He couldn’t think of a single suspect.

  “What the . . .?” Io said behind him.

  Micah turned around. “What is it?” But he could already see what had Io frowning and holding his fingers several inches off his keyboard as if it had grown snake scales.

  The monitors flashed then blacked out. Small squares blinked randomly over the screen.

  Then a message began typing out in large letters.

  You’re a day late and a dollar short

  But oh so fun to watch

  As you chase, toil, and try to keep up

  While I knock you down a notch.

  The key is mine, with me it stays

  No more of your concern

  Because I’m better, a real go-getter

  So fuck you, Micah. Crash and BURN.

  This prick wanted a war? Well, he just got one.

  Chapter 14

  Cordray rubbed her sandpapery eyes as she leaned back in her desk chair. In the three hours since breakfast, she’d accomplished a lot.

  First, she’d searched the Dark Net for references to Grudge Match. That seemed like the easiest task to tackle first, and her search paid off. Not only had she found information about where the underground fight club met, but how to join. She’d even filled out the interest form. Supposedly, she would receive a text within twenty-four hours with more information.

  Next, she had logged into Bain’s personal archives and searched for anything related to ankhs. And what do you know? She struck gold. Turned out that ankhs had been used by the lycans in the time of
the pre-dynastic Egyptian pharaohs to open the gateways between dimensions. It had been how they’d traveled between their world and Earth, but sometime soon after the pyramids were built, the gateways had allegedly been sealed. At least as sealed as they could be, with the lycans securing the ankhs and hiding them away.

  Vampires had discovered these gateways, too, coming from their planet in some kind of teleportational accident a few decades after the first lycans arrived. Call it a gateway glitch, but when the lycans opened one of the portals during a ceremonial rite, a whole bunch of vampires poured through. Apparently, their planet had been in the right place at the right time and they’d been sucked into the worm hole that brought them here.

  But at least now she knew why vampires couldn’t tolerate the earth’s sun. According to the translated history, they’d come from an earthlike planet whose sun was a dim but powerful white dwarf. It churned out a lot of warmth, but not a lot of light, so when they came through the portal, the earth’s brighter sun caused an illness they called sun sickness, which led to a large number of deaths in the early vampires, forcing them to become night dwellers. The only vampires capable of surviving the sun were those born from a union between a vampire and a human . . . or with a lycan. But lycans hadn’t been keen on seeing their kind mix with vampires, so there weren’t a lot of half vampires-half lycans walking around, if any.

  Scouring the background material had made for an interesting history lesson, but the part about the ankhs was what had interested her most. Ankhs were keys. Each opened a different portal or set of portals to a different dimension or to a different location in one dimension. From the crude map she’d pulled up, if she read it right, it looked like some dimensions had multiple doorways, all marked by pyramids or obelisks. The bigger the structure, the bigger the gate, and the more supernatural entities could enter or exit through it.

  That must have been quite a site on the Giza Plateau—seeing hundreds, if not thousands, of beings appear out of nowhere or vanish without a trace—given that there were three massive pyramids on site. And back in pre-dynastic times, who knew what other structures had been there to enhance the effect?