His slender fingers were tapping a restless tattoo on the scrolled arm of the chair, his body aching for Miss Juliet Lawrence, when the far doors were thrust open to reveal a tall vampire with a halo of brown curls and large brown eyes.
Most people were deceived by the air of youth and innocence that clung to Uriel even after two centuries, but not Victor. Although the vampire would never possess Victor’s own power, Uriel was a brutal killer when necessary and loyal beyond reason.
Which was precisely why Victor had demanded the demon maintain a constant guard on Juliet since she’d first captured his fancy.
With a lift of his brow, he gestured for the vampire to join him, knowing that Uriel would never have abandoned his post without a compelling reason.
Moving through the guests with fluid speed, Uriel fell to his knees before Victor and bent his head.
“Master.”
“Tell me.”
“The female left her home.”
“An odd hour.” He frowned. It was because Juliet’s maid had sent a note to say her mistress would be staying in for the evening that he had reluctantly agreed to this small gathering. His clan deserved a few entertainments even if their chief was preoccupied with a stubborn, unmanageable female. “She was with Hawthorne?”
“No, master, she was alone.”
“Alone?”
“Alone and on foot.”
“Damn.” Victor’s hands clenched the arms of his chair, the wood creaking as it threatened to shatter beneath the pressure. “I trust Johan is following her?”
“Of course.”
He glanced toward the dark windows, judging the hours before sunrise.
“Juliet is impulsive, but she is not a fool. Why would she be traveling the London streets alone?” He returned his attention to his servant. “Did a messenger arrive?”
“No, master. No one approached the house.”
Something perilously close to fury flared through Victor’s cold heart as he flowed to his feet.
Where the devil would Juliet be headed to at such an hour? Although London was no doubt ablaze with parties, she would never attend one without a proper chaperon and certainly not on foot.
So that meant she was either conducting nefarious business or she was meeting a secret lover.
It was the latter thought that triggered his blast of icy power, sending the humans and lesser demons fleeing the room in fear and his brothers falling onto their knees.
“Where is Hawthorne?”
“He is in the Hampton Court gardens, still attempting to lure Yiant out of hiding.”
Uriel’s explanation reminded Victor of yet another mystery nagging at him.
“Have you discovered what has disturbed the sprites?”
“I fear not, master.”
Victor flicked his finger, commanding Uriel to his feet.
“Perhaps my absence from London has allowed my clan to forget that my commands are not mere suggestions,” he said, the frigid force of his voice wrapping around his servant and causing him to flinch in pain. “I do expect to be obeyed.”
“Forgive us, master,” the vampire pleaded, his voice tight with the knowledge Victor could kill him with one blow. “We have sought to discover the truth, but the sprites refuse to speak.”
“Refuse? How very bold of them,” Victor drawled, his gaze skimming over his cringing clansmen. “And how very disappointing that my fine warriors have been bested by a handful of fey.”