Must Love Hellhounds

“We need the harness,” Maggie said as he reached the landing. “You’ll escort Mr. Blake downstairs and to our vehicle.”

Sir Pup brushed past her hip and padded into the bedroom, his black fur gleaming over heavy muscle. His middle head looked Blake up and down. His right examined the room, and with his left, he turned to glance over his shoulder at Maggie.

She had no doubt that the expression pulling at his lips and exposing razor-edged teeth was a grin.

Her eyes narrowed. “You won’t take him anywhere but to the vehicle and through the airport,” she ordered. “And you won’t leave him anywhere, either.”

The hellhound’s grin lengthened. Oh, damn. Most likely, she’d just added another idea to whatever mischief had already been percolating in his heads.

She returned her gaze to Blake and frowned. His skin had paled to a sickly gray. When he weaved on his feet, she stepped forward and caught his elbow.

“Mr. Blake?”

He visibly gathered himself. His chest rose on a long breath before he echoed, “Sir Pup?”

Maggie began to nod, then realized Blake wouldn’t see it. “Yes.”

“The hellhound? The one that my uncle watches from time to time?”

Actually, it was the other way around. Sir Pup was the companion to Ames-Beaumont’s closest friend, and it was true that the vampire sometimes let the hellhound stay in his mansion. But it was the hellhound who watched over Ames-Beaumont; Sir Pup helped Maggie protect the house on those days the vampire succumbed to his sleep.

Demons were the only real threat to Ames-Beaumont while he slept, and they had nothing to fear from Maggie’s gun-but Sir Pup’s venom could paralyze a demon, and his massive jaws could easily rip one apart.

Maggie was not willing to reveal the details of Ames-Beaumont’s security, however-even to his nephew. She said only, “Yes.”

“In his demon form?”

He wasn’t, thank goodness. But if Blake knew that Sir Pup had a demon form, then it was no wonder he’d been so pale a moment ago. Maggie was used to the three heads, but she didn’t think she’d ever be comfortable with the giant, terrifying hound he could become.

“No. Right now he looks like a three-headed black Labrador.” A very large black Lab. When Maggie knelt beside the hellhound, her eyes were level with his shoulder. “Once we’re outside, he’ll shape-shift back to one head. Sir Pup, the harness?”

The guide apparatus appeared in her hand. Sir Pup’s invisible, formless hammerspace allowed him to store almost any object, but even a hellhound couldn’t make a retriever-sized harness fit over a bear-sized torso.

“And shrink, please,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes. The hellhound was being a pain in the ass by forcing her to ask him to shift into a smaller form.

Probably, she thought, so that Blake wondered exactly how big the hellhound had been. Though Sir Pup was friendly enough to be considered a bad hellhound by Hell’s standards, he still enjoyed making people uneasy. He just had a better sense of humor than most hellhounds-and was less likely to tear out throats first, and eat the rest later.

Or so Maggie had heard. She’d never been to Hell, and so she’d never met any other hellhounds. If her luck was good-and if every negative thing she’d done in her life didn’t land her in the Pit as soon as she bit the big one-she never would.

And if her luck was very good, she’d never run into another demon, either. After discovering that her previous employer was one, she’d had enough of them to last her a lifetime.

She adjusted the last harness strap and gave Sir Pup a scratch behind the ears of his left head. His dark eyes glowed faintly crimson before rolling back in ecstasy. A freakishly powerful and terrifying hellhound, sure-but pettings and food were two things guaranteed to make him more biddable.

“Don’t leave him anywhere,” Maggie murmured, “and I’ll see that Ames-Beaumont buys out a butcher shop for you.”

Apparently satisfied with that bribe, Sir Pup pranced to Blake’s side. Blake curled his fingers around the harness handle.

“Why would it be a problem if he does lead me out to the middle of nowhere? You’ll be there.”

Blake had heard her? There was obviously nothing wrong with his ears. “I won’t be,” Maggie said, moving into the hall and gesturing for Sir Pup to follow her down the stairs. “I’m taking you to the airport. He’ll accompany you on the plane.”

“What plane?”

Maggie stopped beside the front door and glanced through the window. Her gaze skipped from vehicle to vehicle, from person to person. She didn’t recognize anyone, and no one tripped the instinctual alarm in her gut that, over the years, she’d learned to trust.

Of course, it had let her down a few times, so she kept her hand on her gun.

“Sir Pup, you have too many heads,” she reminded the hellhound before answering Blake. “I’ll charter a plane to take you back to San Francisco. Mr. Ames-Beaumont can look after you while I-”

“Not a chance,” Blake said.

“-find your sister,” Maggie finished over him.

“Find her where? Do you have information about where he’s taken her that I don’t?”