Charlaine Harris - Must Love Hellhounds

“No. She’s searching through the room now. The drawers are empty. No phone. No television. No periodicals.”

“Nothing that gives away their location.” Savi stopped typing. “Do you think they know what Geoff can do?”

“If they did, they’d have blindfolded her.” Maggie took the airport exit. “They probably just don’t want her to feel comfortable, so that leaving the room will be a reward-”

Blake gave a short laugh. “Clever girl, Kate. She’s turned over a lamp on the nightstand. On the base, there’s a label: ‘Laura’s Antiques and Design, Hilton Head, South Carolina.’”

“Which is… ” There was a moment of furious clacking. “Right on the water. It’s an island.”

“And a tourist trap,” Maggie said. “Probably not isolated enough.”

“True. I’ll concentrate fifty miles up and down the coast. I’ll also find pictures of local lighthouses for you to look at, Geoff. Once the sun rises, maybe Katherine will be able to see enough that you’ll recognize one. And I’ll have the pilot file a new flight plan that will take you closer to Hilton Head than Charleston is. And, Maggie-I’m monitoring your e-mail, so that if James tries to contact you again, I can get you a location ASAP.”

“Thank you, Miss Murray.”

“Oh my god, I wish you’d stop calling me that. Does she do that to you, Geoff?”

He aimed a grin at Maggie. “Yes, Aunt Savi.”

“And that is a million times worse. You’re six years older than I am.” The vampire sighed. “Okay, I can’t put this off anymore. I’m on my way to tell Colin that a demon has Katherine. And that the demon probably knows what she can do.”

“In other words,” Blake said, “we shouldn’t be surprised if, by the time the sun sets tonight, you and Uncle Colin have arrived in Hilton Head.”

“Yeah, that about covers it,” Savi said. “Be safe until then.”

Silence fell between them after she’d disconnected, until Maggie said, “How much do you want to bet she chartered a plane within a minute of you first saying ‘demon’?”

His agreeing laugh faded too quickly, and he scrubbed his hands over his face. “Katherine hasn’t found anything else. Nothing to write with, either. She’s sitting, waiting.”

Maggie nodded. Unfortunately, that was what she and Blake would be doing, too.

“Why did he choose ‘Winters,’ Mr. Blake?”

Maggie’s gaze was focused on the lighthouse filling the laptop screen in front of her, but Geoff immediately felt the shift of her mood. Her eyes had been in hyperactive mode from the time they’d arrived at the airport, so that Geoff’s reliance on Sir Pup’s guide harness was, once again, not completely faked.

And she hadn’t let up on the drive to Hilton Head, or after they’d entered the open-air café where they’d decided to have breakfast and look through the lighthouse photos Savi had compiled.

After Geoff mentioned his difficulty using her eyes, Maggie had made an effort to let her gaze rest on each photo. But she’d still managed to give a once-over to every customer, almost every pedestrian on the sidewalk, and many of the drivers passing by in their cars.

As she asked about the nickname, however, Maggie became too focused. Though Geoff had heard the hostess seating at least two newcomers, Maggie’s gaze hadn’t yet darted to them-which told Geoff that the answer was as important to her as their security.

And he wasn’t above using that knowledge to his own ends. “I’ll tell you, but only if there’s no more of this ‘Mr. Blake.’”

Her gaze lifted to his face. Christ, he hadn’t intended for his expression to appear that tense, that dark. ‘Mr. Blake’ didn’t anger him. It just… frustrated him.

“All right. Just Blake.”

No “mister,” and so no longer something she’d use with a superior, or an employer. He watched the line between his eyebrows vanish, saw how he eased back in his chair. Watched through her eyes.

And so Maggie knew, too, how much that had mattered to him. He began to push his hand through his hair, then realized how relieved the gesture seemed-as if he’d just fought a battle and won.

He was in the process of becoming completely wrecked by this woman. And seeing himself like this wasn’t helping his confidence.

He searched for someone who was looking at her, instead. He found one, two tables away, who was either staring blankly into space or fascinated by the platinum of Maggie’s hair in the bright sun. The focus wasn’t on her face, but Geoff could see her profile well enough to know her expression wasn’t giving much away.

And that she had a beautiful, incredible mouth.

With both hands, she brought her coffee cup to her lips. From any other angle, the ceramic rim would have hidden her smile, and he couldn’t hear it in her voice when she prompted, “Winters?”

“Winters,” Geoff said, “was the name of my uncle’s valet. His first valet, his second, his third, and his fourth.”

The corners of her mouth tightened. “I see.”

No, she likely didn’t. Not yet. She assumed that Colin, the son of a wealthy British earl, had lazily taken to calling all of his valets “Winters” so that he wouldn’t have to remember their names.

“They all were of the Winters family. Sons and grandsons. One a nephew. But it was the first who was in my uncle’s employ when he became a vampire. Whenever he traveled away from Beaumont Court, he took Winters. And it was the first Winters who was with him when he was cursed.”

He had no doubt Maggie knew of the curse. She would have noticed how few mirrors were in his uncle’s mansion. Every other vampire could see his reflection, but the taint of the dragon’s blood had erased his uncle’s. To a man as vain as Colin Ames-Beaumont, the inability to confirm his beauty truly was a curse.

“Oh,” Maggie said quietly. “Not just a valet. A gentleman’s gentleman. A man he trusted to do what he couldn’t-maintain his appearance, and protect him during his daysleep.”

“And, according to Uncle Colin, who remained one of his few links to sanity during those early years.” The family, of course, being the other. “There hasn’t been a Winters since the Second World War-not, at least, one who has served my uncle. His support of the Winters family allowed them to rise in class enough so that when my grandmother married a Blake, it didn’t raise any eyebrows. And Uncle Colin didn’t think it was appropriate for family members to serve as his valets, so he began to dress himself.”

With great care, she set her coffee cup on its saucer. “Your grandmother was a Winters?”

“Yes. And she hadn’t any more blond hairs on her head than I do.” He reached for his juice and raised it in a tiny salute. “And that, Maggie, is the story of the Winters name. You can infer what you wish from it.”

If she did infer anything, she didn’t share her conclusions. Instead, she slowly ate a piece of toast.

Geoff assumed her silence meant she’d been affected by it. Good, he thought. Very good.

Even if it meant that he was a bastard for telling her. He knew what she was looking for, what her psychological profile had laid out, describing a chain of events that had started when a young woman had given Maggie her last name, and nothing else. Then bandied about the foster system until she was twelve. She’d found stability, after that, with foster parents who hadn’t been able to have children of their own-and who’d taken in children not out of love, but to fulfill a sense of duty. The father had been a military man through and through, with a schedule for every aspect of the children’s lives. It had been constancy Maggie had desperately needed, but the sense of belonging she’d craved hadn’t been fulfilled until the service.