Christine Warren - Huntress

I leaned over and whispered to Devlin, “Duty calls. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Devlin nodded. “Let me know if you need me,” he said, never taking his eyes off the stage.

I smiled at the look of intense pride and raw lust on his face as he watched his consort below.

“You enjoy the performance,” I said. “We’ll handle this.”

I turned back to Michael and he stood, offering me his arm. Curling my fingers into the fabric of his coat, I felt the hard muscles underneath leap in response. He glanced down at me as we exited the box and gave me a wicked smile.

“Ah, my whiskey-eyed lass, have I told you yet tonight how much I love you and how beautiful you are?” he asked.

I paused and turned to him, sighing inwardly as I brushed his hair away from his sparkling blue eyes. Michael’s dark blond hair, which he always wore longer than was fashionable, never failed to look as though I’d been running my fingers through it. Probably because I had. After nearly three quarters of a century together, I still couldn’t keep my hands off my dashing husband.

“You’ve told me at least twice,” I replied softly, “but a woman can never hear it too many times.”

I thought my new burgundy evening gown, with its black lace and jet beads, was particularly lovely. Hoop skirts had thankfully gone out of style years ago, and the use of bustles was in decline. I sincerely hoped such good sense would soon herald a return to the more uncomplicated fashions of my youth. My new dress was the first one in years that I truly adored. My blood-red hair was done up in artful curls, and Michael reached out to tuck an errant strand behind my ear.

A discreet cough came from somewhere behind me. All thoughts of my handsome husband were suspended as I turned to see a rather grim-looking dark-haired young man waiting in the hall. I closed the distance between us and silently regarded him. He’d been young when he was turned, perhaps only eighteen or nineteen years old. He didn’t look as one would expect a warden to look, but I’d learned long ago never to judge a vampire in such terms. Michael was a prime example of that. He didn’t have Devlin’s great height, or his massive build, but he was a brawler, and infinitely the more dangerous of the two. I would reserve judgment on this young man until I’d seen him in action.

“Miss Craven,” the warden said, executing a respectful bow. “My name is Grady and I am a warden for the Regent of London.”

It was rare for vampires to use surnames. Though Michael and I had been married for well over half a century, there was no tradition among our kind of a wife taking her husband’s last name, as there was in the human world. I had not abandoned the use of my family name after I was turned, therefore I would forever be “Miss Craven” to those showing respect. To those who spoke my name in fearful whispers, I was Cin Craven, the Red Witch of the Righteous, or simply the Devil’s Witch.

“Warden,” I said coolly. “You’ve traveled a long way. What is so important that it couldn’t wait until the conclusion of the opera?”

“I was instructed by the Regent to come here with all haste and speak to you immediately,” he said, glancing nervously at Michael. “And privately.”

“You may speak freely in front of my husband, Warden,” I assured him. “We keep no secrets from each other.”

The warden shifted his weight uncomfortably. “My instructions were very clear, ma’am, and I dare not disobey the Regent. I am to speak to you, and only you.”

Well, that certainly isn’t going to happen , I thought. Already I could feel the tension in Michael’s body at the warden’s strange request.

I cocked my head to one side. “I don’t recall Charles being such an ogre,” I said.

“Charles is no longer Regent,” the warden replied. “He was challenged and defeated last year. The new Regent is young, but he’s strong and ruthless.

“Who is he?” I asked out of curiosity. Whoever he was, he had already begun to annoy me.

“His name is Sebastian,” the warden replied.

I stilled, my stomach clenching. “Sebastian Montford?” I asked.

Grady nodded. “I believe that was his human name, yes.”

At that confirmation Michael shot forward, his hand curling around the warden’s throat.

Grady’s eyes widened in fear, as well they should have. Once, when we’d both been human, Lord Sebastian Montford had wanted to marry me, though I had not returned his affections. Perhaps my polite but firm rejection of his offer had hardened his heart to me, or perhaps it had only turned his love into some dark and twisted thing. Whatever the case, when Sebastian had been made a vampire, he and his master had come for me. Sebastian had wanted me in his power, and they’d both wanted control of my magic. Fortunately, though, The Righteous had come to my aid. In order to save me, Michael had turned me into a vampire. I had become his lover, and later his wife. I don’t think Sebastian would ever forgive either one of us for that.

“What game are you playing at, boy?” Michael growled.

There was a soft gasp from the hallway behind me, and I turned to see a white-haired dowager flutter her fan and duck back through the door to her private box.

“Michael,” I said calmly, laying my hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to make a scene.”

“It’s not a game,” the warden said. “I was sent to bring the Devil’s Witch back to London.”

Michael laughed harshly. “Does Sebastian Montford not recall that I promised to kill him if I ever saw him again?”

“I am supposed to bring her, and her alone,” Warden Grady said.

Michael pulled the warden closer. “You go back to your Regent,” he said in a voice that sent shivers up my spine, “and you tell him that if he ever again tries to get to Cin, I will hunt him down and set him on fire.”

Michael released the warden with a shove and Grady staggered back. Righting himself, he straightened the collar of his shirt and tugged at his coat.

“So you won’t help me?” he asked.

“Help you?” Michael replied incredulously. “Help you put the woman I love in the hands of a man who tried to enslave her when she was human? I think not.”

Warden Grady clenched his jaw and a very firm look of resolve settled on his face. “I don’t know what history you have with the Regent,” he said, “and I don’t bloody well care.”

Michael raised his eyebrows and started to say something, but I laid my hand on his sleeve to still his invective.

When he realized that Michael wasn’t likely to grab him by the throat again, the warden stood taller, and continued. “I assure you that the threat to our city is very real. We’ve lost ten percent of the vampire population in just over three months. I did not travel all this way to reignite whatever feud you have with the regent. If that had been Sebastian’s intention, he would have sent someone else. I am not one of his lackeys. I am a deputy warden of the city of London, and the policing and security of our vampires is my responsibility. In point of fact, I have argued long and hard to call you to help with this problem, and I believe it proves just how reluctant Sebastian was to have you in his city that he waited this long to allow me to do so. If it had been entirely up to me, I would have tracked you down two months ago.”

“What’s happening in London?” I asked with concern. Ravenworth, my home when I’d been human, was only thirty miles from the city. As a human and a vampire, London had been like a second home to me.

Warden Grady looked at me grimly, and asked, “Have you heard of Jack the Ripper?”

Michael scoffed. “What does a human killer have to do with us?”