Blood of the Maple

She grinned over her shoulder, her whole body glowing eerily. It wasn’t a reflection of the firelight on her skin either. This was serious magic. “It’s simple, really. I’m going to make you unable to feed from anyone but me. Then you’ll never cheat on me again. Isn’t it a great idea?”

The idea was revolting. It was unnatural. It was against the vampire code of ethics or something. He couldn’t live off her; she wasn’t his singele sotiei, his blood wife. Only his sotiei could sustain him the way Terri was talking about.

She dipped a golden goblet into the green goo in the cauldron. “When I’m done, the only one you’ll ever need will be me.” She turned toward him, the goblet balanced between her hands. “It’s time, my love.”

“Oh fuck me.” Parker began kicking at the bars with all his might. The outcome of this could not be good.

“Here. Drink this, and we’ll be together forever.”

No way. Odds were good she was carrying liquid death in her hands. His death. Parker knocked the goblet away, but the liquid sloshed over the sides. Some landed on him, some on her. The dark green was almost pretty against her skin.

She looked at him and smiled. “I love you.”

Then the pain hit, and he couldn’t do anything but scream.

* * *

Haight-Ashbury, Sometime in the 1960s…

“Oh Goddess. Oh Goddess. Oh fuck.”

Someone pounded on the restroom door. “Brother. What the hell are you doing in there?” A pair of ratty sneakers were visible under the tan door.

Parker clenched the sides of the toilet bowl and prayed for death. He didn’t even know he had these bodily functions anymore. Hell, he hadn’t taken a dump in two centuries!

This was all that bitch’s fault. “That is the last time I eat cactus.” He shuddered, cold sweat popping out on his forehead. It was bad enough he’d had to pick the fucking needles out of his gums, but this? This was the ultimate indignity.

The poor bastard waiting to use the toilet backed up, until Parker couldn’t see his shoes. “What did you say?” He probably thought Parker was high on something.

“Nothing,” he wheezed. When he found that bitch, he was going to kill her. Kill her dead. Deader than dead.

After he got her to remove the goddamn curse.

“Oh Goddess!”

“What?”

Parker groaned. “I think I shit out my spleen.”

* * *

Boston, Sometime in the 1980s…

Parker pushed the shopping cart around the store and did his best to ignore the strange looks people gave him—or rather, his grocery cart. He’d gotten used to them over the last decade or so, but at least he had a better handle on what the witch had done to him. The experiments to find what he could and could not eat had not been pleasant. Memories of the infamous Cactus Incident haunted his dreams during the day.

A vampire cursed to drink nothing but the blood of plants. What the hell had she been thinking?

His butt cheeks clenched at the horrible memory of that day in the restroom.

Everyone knew cacti produced water, which was why he’d attempted to drink from it. What most people didn’t know was the water they contained also produced diarrhea, nausea and vomiting in anyone who drank it, like vampires who were stuck on a restricted diet.

Thank the Goddess for Greg, who’d helped him figure out what the hell he was living with. If not for him, Parker probably would have starved to death or, worse, gone feral and been hunted by his kind. Once Greg heard what he’d been through (and had stopped laughing long enough), he’d concocted a plan to help Parker survive without Terri.

At least he’d managed to avoid her the last few years. The last time she’d caught up to him had been the worst. He’d woken up to find her snuggled up against him, her spooky green eyes boring into him, her scent both tantalizing and repulsive at the same time. His fangs had descended in preparation for feeding, startling him. She’d had him by the balls, her nails lightly scratching the wrinkled skin. “I’ve missed you,” she’d crooned.

He’d never moved so fast in his life. He couldn’t believe he’d been forced to streak through New York City at rush hour. He was lucky he hadn’t been arrested and thrown in a nice cell block with Bubba the Butt Buddy. The sunburn had taken days to heal.

He finished his shopping and headed for the checkout. He placed ten bottles of all-natural maple syrup, a potted spider plant, a bouquet of carnations and a box of caramels on the counter.

The cashier looked at his purchase and frowned.

Parker shrugged. “What? I like caramels.”

She rang him up silently, much to his relief.

The light was on when he got back to the apartment, which meant Greg was probably there. Parker opened the door and picked up the grocery bags, his stomach grumbling. “Honey, I’m home!”

Greg West, his roommate and resident pain in the ass, sauntered out of the kitchen. A Kiss the Cook apron barely fit his athletic body. You’d never know he was both an accountant and a witch. He looked like a fullback for the Giants. “Knock it off with that honey shit, or I won’t feed you dinner.”

Parker held up the bags and grinned. He shook the right one gently, hoping to bribe Greg into a better mood. “I bought you caramels.”

Greg rolled his eyes and headed back into the kitchen. “Did you get the plant?”

“Yup.”

“And the syrup?”

“Uh-huh.” Parker followed Greg, more than ready for his dinner.

“Over there, then.”

Parker deposited the bags on the table. “What’s for dinner?”

Greg sighed. “The usual.”

“Yum.” Parker blinked. Was he beginning to like his curse? He supposed it was possible. One of the things he’d come to appreciate about his changed diet was the variety. O-negative might be different from O-positive, but in the long run, it all tasted like blood. Now he got to try all sorts of flavor and texture combinations he’d have been forced to vomit back up in the old days.

Greg snipped a piece of the spider plant and put it in the blender. Maple syrup was then added, along with some of the leaves off the bouquet of carnations. “Felt like a change?”

“Something like that.” Parker put the carnations in some water. It would help them live a few more days. Besides, he loved the scent of the flowers but couldn’t eat the blossoms, only the leaves. Stupid curse. When Terri had cursed him to drink nothing but green, leafy blood, she’d been serious. Greg had helped him figure out it took a delicate balance of human blood, tree sap and leaves. Too little blood, and Parker would begin to lose weight. Too much, and his body would try to reject the extra protein.

Greg shrugged and grabbed a knife, then pricked his finger and added some drops of blood to Parker’s dinner. He put the lid on and hit Liquefy.

No matter how many times the man had said I told you so, Parker owed him.

Parker’s mouth watered. “Have I mentioned how much I hate that bitch?”

“Every night at dinner.” Greg turned off the blender and poured the sticky golden-brown mess into a glass. He added a corkscrew straw and handed him the concoction. “Bon appetit.”

“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” Greg went back to the steak he’d been sauteing. “How are the studies going?”

Parker took a long swallow. “Not bad, might go for my doctorate.”

Greg choked out a laugh. “You? A PhD?”

“Why not?”

“Sorry. I’m trying to picture you as Dr. Parker Hollis, professor of botany.”