Blood of the Maple

“Says the gay black witch.”

“Homophobe.”

“Perv.”

“You’re just jealous because I never hit on you.”

“Remind me to get you a nice pink Judy Garland T-shirt for your next birthday.”

“Asshole.” Greg hugged him. Parker could feel the tension seep out of his friend. “Thanks.”

Parker hugged him back. Finally there was something he could do for Greg for a change. “You’re welcome.”

* * *

Maggie’s Grove, Maryland, The Senior Prom…

Amara cried so hard she thought she’d never catch her breath again. The tattered remains of her dress floated around her, the words of her date echoing in her ears. Freak was the nicest thing he’d called her.

“Amy?”

She didn’t bother trying to dry her eyes. Glinda would know anyway.

“Why aren’t you at the prom, child?”

She couldn’t catch her breath to answer. She’d thought Jason Montanaro was different. He was a were, loyal to the bone, someone who would understand the needs of a young dryad.

But she’d forgotten for one shining, happy moment that a dryad wasn’t all she was, and now she was paying the price.

“Oh, dear.” Glinda’s arms went around her shoulders, but Amara couldn’t raise her head. Couldn’t look at the sympathy on Glinda’s face. Thank the Gods school was almost over. She’d commune with her tree for the entire summer, long enough for Jason and his friends to go away to college. Long enough for her to forget.

“What did that boy do to you?” Glinda smoothed her hair away from her hot forehead. “My poor child.”

She couldn’t breathe. It hurt too badly.

“I swear this to you, my child. Someday a man will come, one who will love you for who you are and what you are. When he does, hold on tight to him, for he’ll need you like no other.”

Her sobs quieted at the tinge of magic in Glinda’s voice. When Glinda spoke like that, things happened. Amara had learned to trust the promises spoken when Glinda used that voice.

“Let’s get you home and cleaned up. I know you’ll want some time with your tree, but promise me you’ll come out before the end of the summer. I have a graduation present for you that I think you’ll like.”

“Wh-what?”

“A trip to Disney World.”

“Disney?” Mickey Mouse and princesses and magical people who weren’t outcasts like her?

“Mm-hmm. When we get inside, I can show you the hotel we’ll be staying at, hmm?”

Well…maybe she could hold off on communing with her tree for a while. She followed Glinda home, knowing someday, somewhere, there’d be someone who accepted her the way Glinda did.

After all, a girl could dream, right?

Chapter One

Maggie’s Grove, Maryland, Present Day

Parker drove through the moonlight-drenched streets of his new hometown with a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced since Greg died. He hadn’t realized how stressed he’d gotten until he’d hit Tennessee and all the tension dissipated. Finding out Greg had cancer, helping him through the horrors of chemo and radiation, only to lose him in the end to an infection, had been devastating. Greg had been in his sixties, not old at all. At least not by Parker’s standards.

And now here he was, following Greg’s final wish to the letter. “Go to Maggie’s Grove. Buy a house. Settle down and have little vamplings.”

“Why?” Parker had asked, damn near tears. His friend’s vision had begun to fail, but it only made his inner vision sharper, clearer.

“The place is in Transylvania County, for the Goddess’s sake. It’s perfect for you.”

“Greg.” He hadn’t known whether to laugh or let those tears fall. What was he supposed to do without Greg?

“Just do what I tell you for once in your damn unlife.”

Parker had chuckled, but he’d known: Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars. Greg had a vision, and Parker would follow it without question. Even at the end of his life Greg had looked out for him. He only wished Greg hadn’t refused the Kiss when they’d first discovered the cancer. Turning him when he’d wasted away to nothing would have been cruel, not that Greg had asked, though Parker had offered more than once.

Parker would have been insulted if he hadn’t known the real reason Greg hadn’t accepted the Kiss. Greg hadn’t wanted to spend eternity as one of the undead. He’d wanted to move on, be reborn. If he’d become a vampire, he would have lost the connection to the earth that gave him his powers. To Greg, losing his witchcraft to turn into a vampire was a horror not to be borne. But he’d promised that someday Parker would find him again. Before drifting off into a coma, he’d used the last of his magic to ensure it. He’d died as peacefully as any mortal could wish.

Parker wished it hadn’t happened at all.

Parker’s gaze landed on the ornate brass pot in the seat next to him. He wondered whether Greg appreciated the massive cosmic joke that had been played on him, but was afraid to ask. Parker sure as hell did. He went to sleep chuckling about it.

Greg had been instrumental in how Parker now lived his life, and he would be forever grateful. Thanks to Greg, he’d discovered he loved dealing with plants of all shapes and sizes, loved digging his hands into rich soil and watching life sprout from it. He’d tasted and sampled more varieties of plants and saps than he’d known were even edible. He’d learned which ones to stay away from and which to embrace. He was the only vegetarian vampire in existence and had become something of an outcast, but he was all right with that. While there were those who thought he should be put out of his misery, others wanted to study him. He avoided those others like the plague. No way did he want to be tested, injected, vivisected or any other ted that might cause him pain, thank you very much. And the ones who didn’t give a rat’s ass one way or the other were the ones who’d become friends, if none as close as Greg had been. And that was why he was glad he had his best friend with him on this journey of—

“Are we there yet?”

Parker rolled his eyes. Even in death Greg didn’t shut up. “Almost.”

“Good. I’m getting itchy.”

“How can you be… Never mind. Don’t answer that.” He blew his breath out. “I’m dumping your ass under the first tree we hit. You know that, right?”

“I’d be nice to me if I were you. Stakes are made out of wood, jackass.”

“Uh-huh.” He turned down the quaint side street that led to their new home. And didn’t it tickle him silly that the one house that had called to him was on Ghost Haven Lane? “I’ll eat you, then.”

“Like you weren’t already doing that before I got sick. Why the hell should anything change?”

Parker smiled, showing way more teeth than necessary. “Ever heard of tree trimmers?”

“Ever had something shoved up your ass?”

“You and what army, Casper?” Parker crowed in victory at Greg’s sputtering. “Yes! Score one for the fanged one.”

He pulled up outside the home he’d purchased over the internet and climbed out, eagerly scanning the quiet neighborhood. Off to his right was a beautiful Victorian painted lady, colorful and gay, with lavender-and-purple