Blood of the Maple

betting on very.

“On it.”

“Stop it, Terri.”

Her finger tapped her chin, and yellowish-green pollen flew into the air with each tap. Parker had never been more grateful for the absence of the need to breathe. “I don’t think so. Not until you agree to my terms.”

He was bound to Amara. If he so much as sank the tip of his fang into Terri, he’d be in unbelievable agony. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re poisonous?”

She patted his cheek, leaving behind spots of slime. “I’m not poisonous to you, Parker. You know that.”

He kept his reaction from his face, but only barely. Maybe Greg was wrong. Perhaps she didn’t know about singele sotiei.

He’d use that against her, use her lust and her tainted love to keep Amara, and the rest of the town, safe.

She held up her finger and pressed it against a thorn on one of the plants surrounding him. A drop of green, sluggish…stuff came out of the wound. “Would you like a taste?”

I’d rather drink raw sewage. Although from the scent, her blood wasn’t that far off. “No, thank you. I already ate.” He caught the reddish eyes of a vampire on the hunt and prayed Terri didn’t notice. Dragos crouched in the trees above her, and he knew the cavalry he’d sent Greg to fetch had arrived. It was time to stop the madness, time to make sure she never hurt anyone again.

Parker turned to mist and freed himself from the coiling plants. “You made a grave mistake, Terri.”

“Oh?” Terri backed up, but if she was frightened, she hid it well. Perhaps she still thought she had him over the proverbial barrel.

Well, she’d just have to find out how adept Parker was at rolling that barrel. He’d crush her with it. “You pissed off the mayor.” The plant she’d wrapped him in began coiling once more around him.

Terri froze, and so did the plant. “What?”

“That would be me.” Dragos dropped to the ground, grabbed Terri’s head and twisted it clean off her shoulders. He tossed the head aside and stepped around the twitching corpse, waving his hand in front of his nose. “Phew. What the fuck is that smell?”

The plant that had wrapped itself around Parker slowly slid to the ground, its branches turning brittle, its leaves drying up. “A bad plant.”

Dragos’s brows rose. “Your tormentor, I presume?”

“Yes. Thanks for the assist.”

“No problem.” Dragos dusted off his hands. “In the words of your wife, that was one weed that needed pulling.”

Parker chuckled. “Need a hand down there?”

“It would be appreciated.” Dragos lifted off the ground. “Come on, Parker. Amara’s waiting.”

Parker slid into the air, eager to see his mate and take a long, hot bath.

Amara yelped as fire licked up the side of the building and nearly singed her bark.

“Sorry.” Mollie Ferguson shot ball after ball of fire at the weeds surrounding The Greenhouse, but it was too little, too late. They’d already breached the windows, cracked the mortar between the bricks. If they couldn’t stop this soon The Greenhouse would suffer the same fate as the town hall.

She grabbed another vine and began ripping it from the brick, trying not to wince as brick dust landed in her hair. “Terri, you bitch, get your ass out here and face me!” She growled when there was no answer.

Amara had never been so frightened in her life. All over town plants had risen and attacked the people around them. Houses were on fire as elementals tried to stop the encroaching army of thorns and brambles. The earth trembled beneath her feet as the earth elementals tried desperately to hold on to roots, to prevent the weeds from moving forward. Air elementals whipped around in a frenzy, using their own powers to try and pull the plants from the ground, ripping them in two and shattering more than one car window in the process. The water elementals had taken the lesson learned at the town hall and drained the plants of water, killing them instantly.

And it wasn’t enough. Maggie’s Grove was losing to a single insane witch who somehow held the power of the land itself in her fist.

A firebolt singed Amara’s hair. “Weed,” Mollie panted, and that was all she needed to know.

Mollie was ringed in fire. Her body had become a living blaze. Amara was impressed; she’d never seen her so angry before—or so human. She could almost like this Mollie.

A root threatened to trip her up, but a werewolf who’d joined in the fight pounced, forcing it back into the ground. Amara turned her attention back to the battle at hand. She reached down deep, searching for a plant or tree that wasn’t under Terri’s control.

There. A birch, not too far away, and another, this one an oak. Roses responded to her call, impatiens and daffodils waving their blossoms, ready to fight for their home.

Amara linked to them and used them, but unless something happened soon it was a losing battle. Already the dryads of the town had begun to drop from exhaustion. She could sense them as they fell and prayed to the Goddess someone got them to safety.

The roots of the great oak rose, smashing at Terri’s weeds with mighty blows. The birch swayed, slashing with its branches; the roses slithered along their trellises, using their thorns to cut vines from brick. The impatiens dug as deep as their shallow roots could, trying to block the moss that crept closer and closer. Even the grass tried to help, creating a thick blanket the moss couldn’t cross.

Amara bellowed another challenge, wondering why the witch wasn’t responding. She had to be close by. No one was strong enough to do this from a distance.

A weed slammed into her from behind, knocking her to the ground. Just as she saw Mollie readying one last fireball, every weed within her senses quivered. Excruciating pain slashed through her and Amara whimpered.

“Amara? Are you all right?”

All around them the weeds fell to the ground. Only dried husks, dead leaves and the fetid stench of mold remained.

Amara whimpered again. “Ow.” Please let this mean what I think it does.

Mollie fell on her ass beside her and draped her arms across her knees. She looked as tired as Amara felt. “Yeah. Ow.”

She stared at the building covered in dead vines and wildly gyrating roses. Amara stifled a laugh as she watched them dance.

“Could you do me a favor?” Mollie pushed her sweaty bangs out of her eyes with a shaking hand.

“Hmm?”

“The roses have started doing the Macarena, and it’s freaking me the fuck out. Could you make them stop?”

He couldn’t wait to tell Amara that their problems were finally over. Ken was avenged, thanks to Dragos. He followed the other vampire down the mountain, feeling lighter than the air he flew through. He alighted not far from the farmers’ market. The plants there had indeed risen up against the townsfolk, but they were dry and brittle now, like the plant that had attacked him. The fire department was working on putting out the few fires that had started, and the police were keeping the people calm and in check. No looting would occur here. Everyone pitched in. It was going to be one hell of a cleanup job, but the people of Maggie’s Grove could handle it.

“Parker!”

He turned to find his Renfield jogging toward him, his expression relieved. “You all right, Bri?”

“I’m fine.” The Renfield panted as he pulled even with Parker. “Greg let me know what was happening, and I called Dragos.”

“Good call.” Parker stared at the damage done by Terri’s homegrown weeds. “Is Amara safe?”

Brian nodded. “She’s helping out around The Greenhouse.”

Parker winced. His endangered asters might not make it if The Greenhouse was damaged. “Damn.”

“So. It’s finally over. How do you feel?”

Parker shrugged. “Same as always.”

“Really?” Brain looked startled. “I don’t look like a tasty midnight snack right about now?”