Blood of the Maple

know the person being viewed as a threat isn’t one at all.” It also let the beast know the person chanting was his vassal, his to protect, but Greg didn’t need to know that. It was a holdover from when vampires ruled territories in places like Transylvania and the Carpathian Mountains. Legend had it the gypsies who’d served them had come up with the casuta, and the beast responded to it in ways Parker didn’t understand but was grateful for. Especially now.

“Under normal circumstances, the chant and the display of submission would have returned Parker to normal, but I’d touched his unclaimed sotiei. I’m lucky Amara didn’t fight him, or I’d be passing through the Veil.”

“Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.” Parker’s smile was rueful. “How do we stop this from happening again? I have no desire to harm you.”

“You’d better not.” Greg sounded seriously pissed.

“I don’t. I actually like the little bugger.” Brian coughed, and Parker realized what he’d said. He flipped them both the two-finger salute. “Sod off.”

“We stop it by you claiming your sotiei.” Brian shrugged. “Or I learn yoga, because I’ll be in that position a lot.”

“Naked yoga?”

Brian bit his lip, a shudder passing through him. His eyes closed to half-mast. Parker had no idea what Greg was doing, but from the smell of lust, he’d bet Greg had his metaphysical hands down the Renfield’s pants. “People. Not in front of the children.”

Brian jumped and moved quickly to the right. “Um. Anyway. You need to finish what you started, or the beast will become even more aggressive as time passes.”

“What about Terri?”

“We deal with her, one way or another.”

“We finally get to kill the wicked witch?”

Parker leaned against the wall, his thoughts racing. “Looks like. The sooner the better.” Terri would not harm Amara, not now. Not ever.

“Down, boy.”

Brian’s eyes were wide, his knees partially bent. Parker licked his lips and realized his fangs had descended. He bet his eyes had begun to turn red, the color of hunting. “We’ll keep Amara safe, I swear.” Brian frowned, his expression darkening. “I think it’s time you met the mayor.”

Parker looked at his bare chest and feet. “Perhaps I should be dressed when I do.”

“I’ll make the call. You get the clothes.”

“No. You get the clothes. I’m not leaving Amara alone.”

Brian nodded. “Pick up the receiver and say Dragomir Ibanescu. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” The Renfield raced down the stairs and out the door.

“This town is very strange.”

He followed at a slower pace and took the opportunity look at the rest of Amara’s home. The wood of the ornate Victorian banister was smooth under his palm. Parker approved, even as he disapproved of the first room he stepped into.

Amara’s living room was much different from her bedroom. This room droned gloomy and period from the camelback couch to the dark wainscoting and rose wallpaper. Tufted leather armchairs with clawed feet flanked the green velvet couch. The couch faced an ornate fireplace, the carved mantle done in the same wood as the wainscoting. Brass and crystal sconces did little to lighten the atmosphere. Spindle-legged mahogany tables held porcelain lamps with heavy, gold-fringed shades. A cream ceiling completed the overly done Victorian look. The only truly good thing about the room was the nine-foot ceiling, and even that was barely noticeable with the dreary colors.

Unlike her bedroom, this room would require a complete makeover. He could live with the wainscoting. He could even live with the green couch. But the rose-pink walls, those sconces and…were those naked women on the lamps?

He wandered to the dining room, mentally flinching from the horror of naked brass women draped in fringe. Now, this room wasn’t nearly as bad. The Queen Anne table had the simple lines Parker preferred, and the chandelier, though dripping in crystals, didn’t make him want to break out in hives. Though the wainscoting remained, the color of the walls, a turquoise a shade or two lighter than the chair in her bedroom, managed to keep the room both formal and cheerful.

The kitchen was much more his style. Here were her Craftsman roots, with mission-style cabinets, Carrera- marble countertops and rubbed-bronze appliances that said old-fashioned without croaking out old.

So maybe the living room was a holdover from when the home had been Glinda’s. If this was more Amara’s style, he could definitely live with it.

He found the phone and picked up the receiver. “Dragomir Ibanescu.”

He heard a faint click. “Yes, Amara?”

Parker stared at the phone in shock. “This isn’t Amara.” Amara has the mayor on magical speed dial?

“Ah. You must be our resident vegetarian vampire, Dr. Parker Hollis. A pleasure to hear from you.”

“Thank you. My, um, Renfield suggested we meet to discuss a problem I have.”

“Very well. I’ll be there shortly.”

“That won’t be—” the dial tone cut him off, “—necessary. Bugger. I hope Brian hurries with those clothes. I’d look ridiculous in Amara’s.”

Parker sat down to wait for the town’s mayor, not entirely certain what he’d say to the man. Or even what kind of supernatural the man was. Neither Brian nor Amara had told him, and he found himself curious about what type of person the mayor was.

“Dr. Hollis?”

Parker whirled around to face the man standing behind him. The black-haired, gray-eyed man was a few inches taller than Parker and radiated power on a level he’d rarely felt. His gray suit and crisp white shirt were set off by a slightly askew bloodred tie. This man was much older than Parker’s two hundred years.

He was also a vampire.

Parker’s beast reacted, his only thought to protect his sleeping sotiei.

Dragomir held up his hands in the universal sign of peace. “I mean no harm to your sotiei, Parker, nor do I intend to steal her.”

Parker eased up. This must be the mayor. How the man had gotten here so quickly was—

Wait.

Was he wearing a fucking sign? “How did you know Amara is—”

“Parker!”

Greg’s bellow was so loud the crockery rattled. “Greg?”

Dragomir whirled around, searching the room.

“Help!”

Parker was out the front door in the blink of an eye. “Where?”

“Terri’s here, and she’s going after Brian!”

Shit, there was only one place they could be, and he doubted it was the dryad’s garden. Not even Terri had the bollocks necessary to confront a dryad in her own space. It had to be his. Terri needed greenery to work her magic. He raced around the back of his house, certain he would find the Renfield deathly injured, or worse.

What he found instead shocked him. His garden had come alive. The great oak waved its branches in front of Brian, caging him, protecting him from the encroaching weeds threatening to choke him. The philodendron whipped its thin branches around so quickly that they severed bits of the weeds away like a weed trimmer. Even the flowers were protecting the Renfield, forming a root barrier the weeds could not cross.

His garden looked nothing like it had earlier, and Parker couldn’t be happier. “Amara is somehow protecting him.”

“Amara is powerful, indeed.” Dragomir dodged a whipping branch. “When the Renfield is safe, I expect an explanation.”