Blood of the Maple

“So?”

Parker lifted his head and inhaled. He was right. Mina’s scent was missing. “Either Terri has become better at masking scent, or Mina isn’t here. And you know what else I’m not smelling?”

“What?” Amara was already racing back toward the group at full speed.

“Rotten vegetation.”

“Shit. Dragos, it’s a trap within a trap!”

But it was too late. The vampire had entered the clearing, and all hell broke loose. Thorny vines whipped up, impaling the mayor on all sides, ripping through clothing and flesh like they were tissue paper. Dragos screamed in rage as his beast took over, all human thought subsumed by the need for survival. He misted free of the vines, but they continued on, reaching toward him, flying up at the same rate Dragos did. Within seconds the vines were above the tree line, thrashing around like the arms of a leafy Kraken.

“No!” Amara stomped her foot and roared a challenge before wading into the mess.

“Amara!” Parker dashed forward, terrified that she’d set off the second half of the trap, the one meant to kill the dryads, and flew right into a cloud of pollen.

And down he fell, passing out within seconds as the pollen seeped into his pores.

Amara heard Parker’s cry but knew he’d be right behind her. There was no way Parker would stay out of this fight, not if she was in it. So she waded in, ripping vines from the earth, mashing them into pulp with her bare hands. Fire flared off to her right as Mollie entered the fray, vines dropping before her with scary rapidity. The controlled, flamethrower-like bursts sliced through the weeds, cauterizing the wounds. Then that fire raked the ground, burning out the roots until there was nothing left.

Dragos used his claws as scythes, cutting the weeds one by one. He screamed in rage, his beast completely in control. He bled from numerous cuts, but the flow was sluggish. Amara was terrified what he’d do once the battle ended. She hoped she wouldn’t have to battle the ancient when this was all over. He’d make a beeline for either one of the humanlike women, intent on feeding from them—or the Throne, intent on finding Mina.

Silver flashed; the dryads had entered the fray. The vines fell faster than they had on the roadway. Selena stood at the edge of the clearing, her feet braced apart, her eyes white, her markings glowing brightly. She chanted, low and lyrical, and everywhere her blind gaze fell, the vines did too, shrinking until they were nothing more than what they’d been before Terri had tampered with them.

“Parker!”

Mollie’s shout brought Amara’s attention back to her mate, who was calmly walking across the clearing, the weeds arching out of his way, not once touching his flesh.

Amara followed, swatting down any vines that got in her way. She had the sinking feeling that somehow Terri had gotten hold of him. There was a blank look on his face, one that petrified her. Parker never looked blank. Everything he felt was written on his features for the whole world to see, whether he meant them to or not. Even when his beast was in control, Parker’s eyes told anyone who looked how close to death they were. This sensation that he wasn’t in the driver’s seat horrified her. If he wasn’t in control of his body, he could do anything. Even kill. So Amara followed, not getting too close, and left the waning battle to her comrades. She told the trees to keep Ash and Greer aware of where she was headed.

Unless she missed her guess, she’d see Mina and Terri soon, and Ash and Greer would not be far behind.

Parker left the clearing, moving forward, but without that innate, catlike grace she’d come to associate with him. He didn’t even react when branches smacked him across the face, leaving behind numerous cuts and welts. He just kept moving onward.

Whatever Terri had done to him, Amara would see it reversed. She wanted her lover back.

She stayed out of his line of sight in case he had orders to attack anyone he saw. She didn’t want to fight him. She was scared stiff she’d injure him if it came to blows.

The wind changed, and suddenly she was no longer downwind of him. Parker stopped, swiveling his head to the right. He sniffed and shuddered, his body swaying back and forth.

That’s it. It’s me! C’mon, Parker, fight it!

The wind died down. Parker stopped shuddering. He resumed his path, his mind and beast once more asleep, once more moving at another’s command.

Damn it. Maybe if she got to where he could scent her, he’d be able to break free of the spell woven around him. This was magic at its blackest, taking the will of another and bending it to suit the purposes of the caster. If the white witches caught Terri, they’d bind her from doing harm ever again.

The black ones would try to compare notes.

Parker walked through a shimmering veil, and Amara almost gasped out loud. Abruptly it all made sense. The trap had been set to keep the other dryads from finding out where Mina was being held, where Terri was planning to make her final stand.

They were in the heart of the forest.

They were at the Throne of Oak.

Chapter Twelve

Amara followed Parker through the magical veil that usually guarded the grove. Terri would be aware of her presence, but there was no help for it. Amara wouldn’t be able to sense anything behind that veil without help. Greer and Ash would come as quickly as they could; here in the Throne they’d have far more power than Amara could begin to imagine.

Until they arrived, Amara and Parker were on their own.

“Parker,” a bubbling voice tried to croon. Amara grimaced. That…shambling, scabrous thing couldn’t be Terri, could it? It looked female, but all Amara could feel was rot.

Parker blinked. “Hello, sweet.”

Amara gritted her teeth. How dare he call that bitch sweet?

“Where’s Mina?”

Terri paused. “Mina?”

“Oak, Terri. Where’s Oak?”

Terri shrugged. “Her? Where she belongs, of course. In her tree.”

Amara darted a glance at the huge oak that dominated the grove and gasped. Mina hung spread-eagle from the branches of her oak. Her head was down, her limbs trembling with effort. Her feet brushed the top of the carved-stone throne that sat high on its roots. Lesser thrones sat before the Oaken Throne, one each for Greer, Ash and Iva.

Something writhed against Mina’s skin, and she wheezed. Amara bit back a horrified gasp when that something burrowed under Mina’s skin, twisting inside her like a giant parasite. The pain had to be excruciating. Blood trickled down her skin where the vines and thorns kept her pinned to her tree like a bug.

Mina’s gaze was dull and bloodshot. Crimson dotted her lips. She coughed once and winced. “’Bout time you got here, Amara.” Her voice was husky with fatigue and pain.

“We were delayed.” Amara stepped forward, knowing Terri would get a good, long look at her. “Hey, bitch. Did you know that’s my man you’re messing with?”

“He’s mine!” Terri shrieked. Weeds sprung up around Amara, trying to block her in. “I will kill you.”

“And my dog too?” Amara pushed at the weeds, startled at their strength. Fuck. Had Terri managed to gain control here? If she had, their chances of survival had dropped to nil.

Parker snorted. Apparently he was no longer under the witch’s control. “Really, Terri. Bad form. Let the women go, and we’ll have a nice chat, hmm?”

“Come here, Parker.” Terri wiggled her fingers in a come-hither gesture that was beyond obscene. Her stench invaded the grove, a poisonous perfume that dulled the senses.

“I don’t think so.” Parker took a step back, toward Amara.