doppelgangers, psychics, witches, dryads, elementals—you name it. I think the only thing we don’t have are mermaids. And somewhere on the edge of town I hear there’s an actual dragon shifter, but that’s nothing but a rumor. I mean, really.”
“Dragon…shifter?”
Brian snorted, amused. “Who could believe it, right? Those guys are nothing but myth.”
Parker damn near strangled on his laughter.
Brian shook his head. “And humans like me of course.”
“Of course.” Parker was fascinated. “How does that work? I’d think there’d be problems with humans and supernaturals living together so openly.” This was the only place he’d ever heard of where the humans were not only aware of the supernatural in their midst, but actively welcomed them. Most supernaturals avoided outing themselves to humans, lest they find themselves being hunted by Van Helsings. The hunters delighted in bagging vamps, weres and fae. Van Helsings firmly believed all supernaturals were threats to humanity, whether or not they were. No one wanted to tangle with Van Helsings.
“We protect you, you protect us. We work together as a community. The dryads take care of the forest. The elementals help with various projects, depending on their temperaments. I know a fire elemental who works as a firefighter.”
“And the humans?”
“We take care of you. For instance, every vampire gets a Renfield, paid for by the township. We make sure the daytime side of things is covered, that blood is provided as needed, that sort of thing. In exchange, the vampires become security guards, cops—just about any job that has a night shift. Heck, one of the nighttime librarians is a vampire.”
It certainly wasn’t Steve, the only librarian he’d met so far. Steve’s heartbeat had been healthy, unlike his own. “I’m a botanist.”
“A vampire botanist?”
People needed to stop laughing at what he did for a living. So it wasn’t a normal occupation for the fanged set, but president of the Bela Lugosi fan club had been taken. Besides, capes made him look like a complete spaz. “I work at The Greenhouse.”
Brian winced. “Ouch. Mollie Ferguson is a hard-ass when it comes to that place.”
“I know.” He rotated his shoulders, still sore from the effort to get the display done on time. “Listen, I’m not sure my having a Renfield is such a good idea. I mean, where would you live?”
“Here. With you. We’d set up a Renfield apartment for me so I wouldn’t be in your hair twenty-four-seven. Trust me, you aren’t the first vampire who arrived in town without one, and you won’t be the last.”
“Well, as his last Renfield, you can fill me in on how to take care of Mr. Hollis, maybe fill in some of his history for me.”
Parker panicked. No way. Greg would have
“Oh. I’m sorry. I assumed… So who took care of him before he came here?”
“Oh?” One of Brian’s brows rose. He folded his arms across his chest as he stared at a spot somewhere to the left of Greg’s urn. Parker could
It was like watching a cosmic train wreck. How the hell was Parker supposed to stop Greg when he couldn’t even see him?
Brian’s eyes lit up with reverence and sexual interest. “Ooh. They make the
“Veg—did you say vegetarian?” For the first time, Brian seemed unsure of himself.
“Yes, he did.” Parker’s head collapsed against the back of the couch. “For the love of the Goddess, Greg.”
“How did
Parker closed his eyes as Greg filled Brian in on his curse and the folly of not listening to his “Renfield.” By the time Greg was done speaking, Brian was making notes on his PDA and nodding furiously. “Want our witches to take a look, see if they can remove the curse?”
Parker froze. “Can they do that?”
“Sure. It’s one of the things we do, take care of each other.” Brian poked at his PDA again and closed it with a snap. “There are no guarantees, but it’s worth a shot.”
Parker wasn’t sure what the ultimate price of that caring would be, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. “I don’t know.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. We have some around town, but they’re watched constantly. I’m not sure they’d bother with you anyway, other than to mock you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Brian’s eyes gleamed, and Parker knew he was being laughed at. “But the grays and the whites might be willing to look at it for you.”
Parker almost asked what the hell that meant but decided at the last minute he didn’t want to know. Besides, he could always ask Greg later, when the Renfield wasn’t around. “Let me think about it.”
Brian nodded and made another note. “All right. So can you fill in your turning history for me? I have to file the temporary Renfield paperwork with the township.”
Good grief, there was
“Don’t say it, Greg.” Parker sighed as the ghost laughed. Every time Parker mentioned his dame’s name, Greg lost it. It wasn’t her fault someone had named a cartoon after her. “I was turned in 1811 by Countess Jessica Le Lievres, a noblewoman on the run from Napoleon—or so I thought. To her I was just a handy snack shack while she hauled ass across the continent. We spent almost a year together before she decided she wanted to keep me and turned me.”
“Wow. I’ve heard of more brutal turnings, but that one?” Brian whistled.
“It wasn’t
“How did you meet Greg?”
This time it was Parker who snickered, while Greg yelled at him to shut up. “The only thing I’ll say is it involved Mary Jane, a six-pack and the strangest urge to eat peanut butter and marshmallow bars.”
“I am so worming that story out of you.” Brian chuckled. “So I need to hit the grocery store and stock up on what you need. I’ll pick up one of those diabetic lancet pens so you don’t have to deal with the skanky bagged crap I hear you’ve been adding to your diet. Any preferences? Peanut butter, maybe?”
“Green. Leafy. Maple syrupy.”
Oh hell. Had he given Brian something to do? Did that make the man officially his roomie?
Great. Now he had two people willing to mock him and order him around. Just what he needed.
“Got it.” Brian tucked away his PDA. “Thanks for giving me a chance. And if you decide you don’t like me after a month, you can request a change of Renfield, and a new one will be assigned for a trial basis.”
