Blood of the Maple (4 page)

But she was distracted by something only she could see. “Perhaps.” She walked across his lawn, and for the first time he noticed her bare feet, as she bent not a single blade of grass.
Something else, indeed.
“Good night, Parker Hollis.”

“Good night, Amara Schwedler.”

“That is one strange woman.”

“Yes. She is.” Parker narrowed his eyes as she glided onto her front porch and through the door. “She surely is.”

“What did I tell you about the crazy?”

Parker shook his head. “I don’t think she’s crazy. She’s…different. But not crazy.” Reaching for the latch to close the gate, he hissed and pulled his hand back. The metal had shocked him. “Greg.”

“Sorry.”

It wasn’t the first time the ghost had worked up enough energy to affect things in the physical world, but it was the first time he’d done it by accident. “What’s wrong?”

“She seems familiar somehow, like I should know her. But why would I? I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“If I have my way, you’ll be seeing a lot of her. Preferably naked and bent over my couch.” He went back to the front porch and hefted the urn with a grunt. “Damn, Greg. Have you gained weight?”

“Shut the hell up.”

Grinning, Parker carried his friend into their new home, turned on the lights and sighed. “It looks better than I thought it would.”

“Yeah. A few touches here and there and it will feel like home.”

Parker nodded as he carried Greg into the living room. The movers had set everything up. His caramel-colored leather couch was in place in front of the fireplace. The mantel and surround were made out of dark, rich wood with opalescent glass tile around the firebox opening. A huge red-and-gray geometric-patterned rug anchored the area. His chrome-and-glass table lamps gleamed against all the dark wood. It would be a perfect place to cuddle on a cold winter night. The walls were done in a mocha color he was debating painting over. Greg liked it, but it was too bland. Parker liked color, inside and out. Oak floors ran throughout the house.

Parker placed Greg’s urn on the mantel and explored the rest of the house.

The first hallway off the living room led straight into the dining room. His table was too small for the space; he’d either have to leave it fully extended or purchase a new one. The chandelier was beautiful, but its crystal elegance was wasted on his table. “We need a new dining set,” he muttered, running his fingers along the wood.

“Seriously. We could look online.”

“Or visit that antique shop we passed on the way through town.”

“Even better.”

The kitchen was a slice of heaven. Stainless steel appliances gleamed. Dark granite countertops and dark, mission-style cabinets complemented the home beautifully. There was a banquette that Parker might rip out. A pantry was better than an eat-in space, but once again Greg disagreed. They’d decided to live there awhile and see which would suit them better after they’d settled in.

Parker headed back to the living room and down the right-hand corridor. This one led to two guest bedrooms and a bath. The bedroom facing the front of the house was Parker’s office.

The other corridor led to the third guest bedroom and master bedroom, where Parker’s king-size sleigh bed fit right in.

“I’ll bet you anything the little chickie next door has a four-poster.”

Parker ignored his friend and checked out the master bath. It held a tub big enough for two and a shower big enough for three, double sinks and marble vanities. Perfect. He stripped and left his clothes on the heated natural stone floor.

“Pig. Didn’t your mama teach you to pick up after yourself?”

“Oink, oink.” He turned on the hot water and basked under the spray. Thoughts of the cute redhead next door drifted through his mind. His lips curled in a hungry smile.

Something told him he was going to love it here in Maggie’s Grove.

Amara breathed in the night air, somehow invigorated by her interactions with her new neighbor. He’d stared at her with heated eyes, watching her move around his garden.

He’d wanted her. No one had wanted her like that before. Amara wasn’t quite sure what to do about that. The few times she’d been with a man had been pleasant, but there had been none of the heat a single glance from Parker’s rich brown eyes had caused. She could drown in those eyes, lose herself forever in them.

That couldn’t be good. Besides, even if she did try to pursue something with him, she was almost positive they would be…incompatible. No vampire could feast on her. They required human blood, and hers was anything but.

She stood beneath her tree, surrounded by its heavy, comforting warmth. Deep roots tapped into the earth, drank in its lushness, its life, and filled her with peace. But the memory of brown eyes and tousled brown hair darkened to near-black in the night marred her usual serene union with her tree. The man drew her like a moth to flame, and if she weren’t careful, her wings would get singed.

She understood the fire that burned inside her when she protected the forest, but she didn’t understand this new need that beckoned her toward the man next door. The one that told her to crawl into the vampire’s lap and hold on to him through the night. Goddess above, she wished Glinda were here to explain this to her, because no one else she knew could. She’d developed a few more friendships since college, but none of the local dryads would speak to her, and the rest of the townsfolk avoided her.

Of the few friends she did have, none of them understood what it meant to be a dryad.

She stared up at the stars, and the first tear of the night slipped down her cheek.

“Glinda, I need you.”

But neither the stars nor her friend answered. So Amara did the only thing she could to ease her confusion. She slipped inside her tree and allowed it to comfort her.

“I don’t know what you’re going on about. It’s only been two weeks. What’s two weeks to someone like you? Hell, we’ve barely finished stocking the fridge.”

“Shut the hell up, Greg.” Parker placed the book back on the shelf and prayed no one heard him arguing with a ghost.

The townspeople were friendly on the whole, but they couldn’t know the new man in their midst wasn’t crazy, just haunted. “She hasn’t been in her house, and from what I’ve heard around town, she hasn’t been to work. Wherever that is.” One thing was for sure, it wasn’t the local library. He sighed and moved to a new set of shelves, hoping to find the book he’d come in for. So far he’d had no luck. He picked up one that was similar, hoping it would do.

“Not that one.”
He put the book back on the shelf and moved on.
“You also heard that’s normal for her, so why are you so worried?”

“I don’t know. Something doesn’t add up.” He leaned against the bookcase and took a surreptitious sniff, making sure no one lingered nearby. “Why does she smell so damn good, where did she go and why am I the only one curious about it?”

Then again, he supposed he could chalk it up to yet more of the strangeness of Maggie’s Grove, like a library that was open twenty-four hours a day and streets with names like Howling Street and Fang’s Crossing.

“I’d be more concerned about what we’re going to do when Terri shows up. We need to be prepared if we’re going to take her out once and for all.”

Parker picked up a book and waved it in Greg’s general direction.

“That one could work.”

He tucked it under his arm. “Chock-full of magical goodness, is it?”

“Very funny. Check it out, asshole.”

He flipped through the pages, startled to see the information he’d been looking for. “Huh. How does Amara look to you, by the way?” Greg said Parker looked the same as he always had except for a faint green glow, probably a result of the curse. He was curious to find out how Amara appeared to the ghost.

“Man, you are obsessed.”
Greg got quiet.
“Strange. She looks like you. But not. Maybe that’s why she seemed so familiar.”

“Cursed, you mean?” That might explain a few things, like why she had disappeared and no one seemed to think twice about it.

“No. There’s nothing unnatural about her. If anything, she’s very natural. Almost too natural.”

“How can you be too natural?” Trying his best to look harmless, Parker smiled at the young woman who walked past him. He tapped the book and shrugged. She smiled back shyly and scuttled away. “They grow them sweet in this town, my friend.”

“Not all of them.”

Parker opened his mouth to reply, when a strident voice broke the silence of the library. “
There
you are.”

He winced. Goddess, what was it about him and crazy women? He turned to face his new boss and all-around pain in the ass, Mollie Ferguson. As usual, she was wound so tight he was surprised her eyelids didn’t squeak when she blinked. “Yup. Here I am.”

She glared at him, tapping her sensible shoe on the linoleum floor, her navy blue suit rumpled beyond redemption. Her blond hair was pulled back in a tight bun, not a hair out of place. Her makeup showed off blue eyes that would have been stunning if they weren’t constantly filled with annoyance. “You’re due back at work in ten minutes.”

What was her issue? “And I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She huffed out a breath. “I needed that display done
before
you left.”

She was kidding, right? He was supernatural, not super-powered. “Kal-El would have had trouble getting it done on time.” She was talking about a major flower display for a show in two days’ time, and she hadn’t told him about it until he’d arrived at work earlier. Now she was panicking and he was considering early retirement.

“You don’t understand how important this is, Mr. Hollis.”

Apparently not. “I’ll do as much as I can when I get back.” It sucked having trouble moving around during the day, since it limited his job choices. But never before had the midnight shift at Taco Bell sounded like the better choice.

The job at The Greenhouse had seemed like such a wonderful opportunity when he’d first heard of it. A greenhouse designed to present endangered plant species as works of art, the place was part museum, part preserve, and the funds The Greenhouse brought in were used to help reintroduce endangered plant life back into the wild. During the day, The Greenhouse offered refreshments to visitors, taught classes on gardening and educated the local schoolchildren. Best of all it was in the town he’d just bought a house in. Parker had thought he’d love it.

Then he’d met his boss.

“You do that.” She hesitated, and he saw the hesitation in her eyes. It reminded him how young she was. Mollie Ferguson had to be in her early to mid-twenties, far too inexperienced for the responsibility of managing such a demanding place. “This means a great deal to us, Mr. Hollis. A great deal.”

“I’ll do my best.” And thanks to her, he’d have to check his books out and leave without finding the book he’d been looking for. His lunch break was over, damn it, and the research they’d planned on doing into hexes would have to wait another night. He’d have to hit the library again tomorrow night, see how extensive their witchcraft section was.

“Thank you.” She turned on her heel and marched away, every line of her body rigid. But at the end of the row she paused. “Thank you,” she repeated. This time it sounded genuine and so achingly uncertain that he wanted to help her despite her status as a certified pain in the ass.

Parker sighed. He was surrounded by crazy, and that crazy now included him. “You’re welcome.”

She regained her composure and took off, her heels clattering down the wooden stairs toward the front of the library.

“Is it my cologne? Is that what attracts them?”

“Hmm? Oh, you mean the crazy? I thought it was your sparkling wit.”

“Never mind. Let’s get out of here.” Parker went to the front desk to check out his book, thoughts of strange neighbors and witchy enemies subsumed by his boss’s panic.

“Hi, Parker.”

“Hey, Steve.” Parker grinned at the cheerful young man behind the counter, determined to get his books and get the hell back to work before Mollie Ferguson made his life hell.

Amara stepped out into the night air and stretched, more at peace than she had been in a long time. Her commune with her tree had gone a long way toward easing her concerns.

Now she needed to find out how things had gone in her absence. It had been roughly two weeks since she’d entered her tree, but it was hard to pin down an exact time. Time moved differently for the forest than for humans. It was slower, measured in seasons rather than hours, and it was easy to lose track of the days. If her tree hadn’t given her a gentle reminder she was needed in the human world, she would have happily stayed there till the first snows fell.

Amara yawned. Right after a bath she’d need to call her boss, Rock, to let him know she was back. She hoped whoever had covered her shift had been nice to the kids in the learning center. Some of the people who worked at the ranger station could be downright scary. After that, a trip to the secret garden was in order. She had to make sure none of the weeds had grown. Besides, it would be a way to help her mind return to the human world.

She entered the house and picked up the phone, dialing her number for work. She wasn’t certain why Glinda had insisted she get a human job or keep the human house, but she trusted Glinda’s instincts. The witch had never been wrong when she spoke in that magical tone. So Glinda had made sure that she got the degree she needed to join the Forest Service.

“Hello, Big Savage Mountain Ranger Station, Ranger Ian Rockford speaking.”

It always amazed her how deep his voice was. Any lower, and only werewolves would be able to hear him. “Hey, Rock. It’s Amara.”

“Done communing?”

“Yup.”

“Then I expect your sexy ass in gear tomorrow. We’ve got kindergarteners coming through, and you know how much they love you.”

Amara smiled. She loved dealing with the youngest members of Maggie’s Grove. It wasn’t until the older residents whispered in their ears that the children became afraid of her or acted belligerent toward her. It hurt like hell when it happened too. Those sweet faces would turn away, and she’d never see their happy expressions again. “Thanks, Rock.”

“No problem. See you tomorrow.”

Amara hung up and wandered upstairs. She started the water in the claw-foot bathtub, eager to wash away the last of her stress. Things had gotten odd recently, and she wasn’t quite certain how to deal with them. The pull to go next door and see what Parker was doing, stare into those beautiful eyes of his, was nearly overwhelming. Fighting it had taken a toll on her peace of mind, forcing her to commune with her tree and let the world fade away. But it hadn’t.

He
hadn’t, and now she had to decide what to do about it. There was something about the vampire that drew her in a way no one else ever had, and it scared her almost as much as it fascinated her.

She peeked out the window toward Parker’s house while she waited for the tub to fill. She wondered if the community had welcomed him yet. He’d probably never lived anywhere quite like Maggie’s Grove. There wasn’t any place in the world that could match it.

She hoped he loved it the way she did. No matter what else had happened to her, how isolated she’d felt growing up, she’d had Rock and Glinda to get her through. It had been enough, and for them she loved this town and everyone in it. She turned off the water and peeked out one last time. She laughed out loud when a familiar car pulled up to Parker’s house.

Parker was about to meet the Maggie’s Grove equivalent of a welcome wagon.

The doorbell rang as Parker finished his dinner. The stale taste of the bagged blood mixed with his usual nighttime snack was nowhere near as nice as the blood Greg had provided, but he was getting used to it. Until he could find a human willing to sacrifice a few drops here and there, he was stuck with what Greg called
BRE:
blood ready to eat. At least he could cut the taste, unlike other vamps.

But there weren’t enough rose leaves in the world to disguise the flavor of a BRE.

He stashed the bag in the fridge and ran to the door, wondering where Greg had gone. The ghost had been awfully quiet this evening. The television was off and the radio was silent.

He opened the door to a young man standing there in jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt, his blond hair scraped back from his forehead in a low ponytail. He smiled, warm and inviting, reminding Parker of the time he’d gone with Greg to a gay bar. Half the men there had hit on him; the other half had hit on Greg. It had been a while since a man had hit on him, and if he did, hopefully he wouldn’t be offended when Parker turned him down. He looked like a nice person, but Parker’s interest didn’t swing that way. “Can I help you?”

“Hi. My name’s Brian Cunningham.” Brian shook Parker’s hand. “The city council sent me. Can I come in?”

Parker’s brows rose. What in blue blazes could the city council want with him? As far as he knew, he hadn’t done anything wrong. “Um. Sure. I’ve just finished unpacking, so things are a bit messy.” He shut the door behind the shorter man. Brian’s gaze swept the hallway, taking everything in. He finally lit on Greg’s urn. “I heard you’d lost someone recently. The town wanted you to know we’re sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Brian’s expression was strange—like he was waiting for something. “Why did the council send you exactly?” Because somehow Parker knew it wasn’t to offer their condolences.

Brian chuckled. “I’m your new Renfield.”

Parker’s jaw remained shut through sheer force of will. “Excuse me?” Renfields were humans picked by vampires to serve and protect them during daylight hours when they were most vulnerable. Parker had never taken one, not really seeing the need for it.

Besides, he couldn’t afford one.

“Don’t worry too much about it. I come from a long line of Renfields.” Brian swept into the living room and sat on Parker’s favorite chair. “I need to know what duties you’d like me to take care of for you. Did your previous Renfield leave an appointment book or something I could use as a starting point?”

“I don’t need a Renfield.”

“They all say that,” Brian muttered. “Look, every vamp in Maggie’s Grove has one. Trust me, they’d stare at you funny if you didn’t.”

“They’re already going to—
every
vamp in Maggie’s Grove?” Parker’s knees had gone weak. He settled on the couch before he fell on it.

“You
don’t
know, do you?” Brian looked even more amused. “How did you find out about Maggie’s Grove?”

“My friend on the mantelpiece was a witch. He told me to come here.”

“Ah. My apologies. We thought you knew.” The smile left his face, his expression becoming serious as death. “Okay, here’s what’s going on. First off, you’re aware Maggie’s Grove is chock-full of supernaturals, right?” At Parker’s stunned look, Brian laughed. “Oh yeah. The witches keep out anyone who either isn’t one or isn’t capable of accepting us. You just found the only town in America where you’re one of the normal residents and humans are considered odd man out.”

Parker was glad he was sitting. He felt light-headed.

“Your settling-in period is officially over. You’ve unpacked, and you’ve been assigned a Renfield, since it’s obvious you don’t have one.”

“Who the hell is this guy?”

Brian jumped. His gaze landed somewhere behind Parker. “Holy fuck. You have a ghost?” His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and if Parker didn’t know better, he’d swear Brian was checking out a seriously hot man.

Could Brian see Greg?

“Can you hear him?”

“Sure. Sensitives and psychics run in my family, and ghosts happen to be my specialty. No wonder Mayor Ibanescu sent me. He knew I’d fit in perfectly.”

“Mayor who?” Since when did the
mayor
care so much about his resident vampires? “So. Who are you, who the hell is Mayor Ibanescu and
what the fuck is going on?
” That last was roared loud enough to shake the windows.