Blood of the Maple mg-1

by Dana Marie Bell

  “Parker.”

  He lifted his head to find Dragos standing over him, grief-stricken as he stared down at the dead young man. “Terri did this. I know it.”

  “We need to convince them of that.” Dragos gestured toward the townspeople who were slowly rising to their feet. “Because of your argument with Jason, they’re going to blame Amara, even though she wasn’t here.”

  Oh hell to the no. Amara had suffered enough grief from these people; they needed to learn the truth before they hurt her any further. “We need to hold a town meeting, let everyone know who Terri is. If she’s capable of this, she’s capable of anything.” They needed to know Ken had died because of Parker’s inability to kill Terri. Once she’d only targeted the women he cared for; her attack on an entire community made no sense.

  Sense or no, this time she’d gone too far. It was time to remember that he might be cursed to drink green, leafy blood, but when it came down to it? He was a vampire.

  It was time to go hunting the hunter.

  Amara lifted the receiver on the third ring. “Hello?”

  “You killed my boy.”

  “What?” Why would Scott Madison say something so vile?

  “My boy is dead, Amara. Dead. And you killed him.” His grief pounded at her.

  It couldn’t be true. Ken couldn’t be dead. “I’ve been home all day. You can ask Brian. He’s been here with me.”

  Brian entered the room at that moment and sent her a questioning look. Amara gestured for him to pick up the extension.

  “Then how did you do it?”

  “Do what? Scott, I swear to you I haven’t been out today.” She heard a click; Brian had picked up the phone. “What’s going on?”

  “Ken is dead. Your…lover attacked Jason near the farmers’ market, and a tree exploded right behind him. One of the splinters killed my boy.”

  Amara sank to the ground. Parker had attacked Jason? Ken was dead? “Dear Goddess.”

  “Why, Amara? Why?”

  “I didn’t do this, but I know who did.”

  “Who?” Scott sounded almost feral.

  “Terri. The woman who cursed Parker.”

  “Why would she kill my boy?”

  She whimpered. Dear Goddess, was this what he truly thought of her? “Why would I? I loved Ken, Scott. You know that.” Hell, Amara loved all the Madisons, and she’d thought they cared for her too. That feeling would never be the same now that Scott had accused her of killing Ken. Her heart ripped in two with loss and betrayal.

  “You’re the only person capable of doing what happened in the market earlier. And I will never forgive you for it.”

  But how could he not know that she was, above all else, a dryad? “I would never kill a tree. And I would never have hurt Ken.” She was sobbing now, barely coherent. She hung up the phone, but it was useless. There was no point in trying to convince the town she wasn’t a danger to them. She’d never harm a hair on their stupid fucking heads.

  But it was time to find that fucking weed and pull her. Permanently.

  Parker was damn near incoherent with rage. He’d come home to find Amara inconsolable and Brian weeping. Scott Madison had called Amara and blamed her for the deaths before he’d even left the market. It had taken him half the night to get Amara to sleep. The only reason he wasn’t out hunting the man who’d hurt her so badly was because he understood the man’s grief had been talking, not his sense. And Parker knew that when Scott came to understand the damage he’d done to an innocent woman, he’d be doubly grieved. But he found it hard to forgive and knew Amara would never forget. If it weren’t for her tree, he’d take her from this place and move her to where she could live in peace.

  But even if he could somehow move her tree, she’d never leave. She loved this place, the house she’d grown up in, the town, even the brainless residents who should have known better. Amara would wither and die if he uprooted her.

  No. He’d have to find some other way to convince the town that Amara, his sweet, gentle dryad, would never kill an innocent.

  He paced back downstairs to find Brian sound asleep on the ugly camelback couch, his head resting on his arms. The tracks of his tears were visible, the scent of saltwater strong. The Renfield grieved not only for the two lost lives, but for Amara as well.

  “Shhh. It took me a while, but he’s finally out. How’s Amara?”

  Parker tiptoed past Brian and into the kitchen. “Pretty much the same as Bri. How could someone believe her capable of something like this? Why didn’t they look for another explanation?”

  “It’s easy to blame the first target you come to, especially when you think you know what they’re capable of. People who are grieving do the strangest things. She’s different. And unless you can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, people will believe Amara did it. Hell, even if you manage to find sufficient proof, there will still be people who think Amara got away with murder.”

  Parker fought the growl rising in his throat. “I’ve been too damn passive about all of this. Why have I been so convinced that killing Terri would be wrong?”

  “She’s killed before. I told you we should have done something about her, but you kept running away.”

  Parker nodded. “I should have.” And because he hadn’t, more people had died and his sotiei might never recover. “I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. I’m not sure why.”

  “Maybe the curse had something to do with it.”

  “Like what?”

  “The curse was designed to change your feeding habits, to make you crave only Terri, right? What if she didn’t know dryads existed and thought she was the only one you’d be able to feed from?”

  “We’ve been over this before, Greg.”

  “Bear with me.”

  Parker moved over to the kitchen table and settled down wearily. He waved for Greg to continue.

  “She knew what you were. What if she knew about singele sotiei? What if she was trying to mimic that? It’s possible your inability to kill her before was because the curse was messing with your senses, telling you she was your sotiei.”

  “Then I met Amara and was no longer blinded?” It was possible. His strange aversion to hurting Terri had faded since meeting the dryad. “You may be on to something.”

  “I think so. Brian’s been explaining the whole sotiei thing to me, and I’m beginning to understand exactly what that means to a vampire. She’s your everything, and with Terri messing with your senses—”

  “My beast wouldn’t allow me to hurt her.” Parker tried to smile, but it wasn’t his best effort. “We need to straighten this out. Terri could decide at any moment to attack again, and the town will blame Amara.”

  “They’ll come after her with torches and pitchforks. Or in her case, axes and chainsaws.”

  Parker shuddered at the thought of anyone attacking Amara’s tree. Brian had told him a few things too, like kill the tree, kill the dryad.

  “And they’d be defenseless against Terri.”

  “Because they’d be preparing for a dryad, not a psycho witch with green-living issues.” Parker rubbed his eyes. “I have to go hunting.”

  “Not alone, you don’t.”

  Parker shook his head. “I won’t risk anyone else. Especially Brian or Amara.”

  “Then ask that freaky-ass mayor to help.”

  “Not sure if he can. He’s dealing with the fallout from the explosion today. Besides, he doesn’t know Terri’s scent.”

  “Tell him to think rancid vegetables and putrefied roadkill.”

  Parker snorted. “I’ll be back before sunrise.”

  “You’d better. I don’t want to have to explain to those two that the wicked bitch got hold of you.”

  Parker headed for the back door. “I’d tell you to lock up after me, but I know you can’t.”

  “For this I’ll put forth the effort.” Moving physical objects was tiring for Greg, but he would do it to keep their lovers safe. “Be careful, Parker.”

&nbs
p; Parker paused. He didn’t know if Terri could harm Greg. “You too.” He shut the door and stared up into the night sky. He smiled faintly when the lock snicked behind him.

  Parker allowed his beast to surface. His eyes shifted, making the night bright as day. His claws and fangs descended. Parker jumped straight up and flew off into the night.

  It was time to hunt his enemy.

  It was time to kill.

  Amara woke to a heavy weight across her middle. Her eyes were gritty, her mouth tasted like dead skunk and she had to pee like nobody’s business. She lifted Parker’s arm off her bladder and scuttled into the bathroom to take care of her body’s urgent memo to go go go.

  She reached for her toothbrush and stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Her skin was blotchy from crying, her hair a rat’s nest of red waves. The worst part was she felt worse than she looked.

  Ken was dead.

  Amara brushed her teeth and showered. She pulled out her uniform and her hiking boots and wrapped her wet hair in a ponytail. She got dressed quietly, despite knowing Parker wouldn’t wake up before nightfall. The vampire slept deeply, his chest unmoving in the dim light. She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and headed downstairs to grab a bite to eat.

  “Morning, Bri.” She moved past the Renfield to reach for the orange juice.

  “Morning, Amara.” The Renfield pulled her into a hug. For a second Amara leaned on him, giving in to the need for human comfort, knowing Brian needed the same. “This sucks eggs.”

  “Yeah.” Amara pulled free and finished making her breakfast of muesli and juice. “What’re your plans for the day?”

  “Weed killer. Lots of it. And paperwork. You?”

  “I’m going to talk to Rock about being reassigned.”

  Brian winced. “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. I’m going to head into the forest, see if maybe Terri is hiding out there. It’s the best place for a weed to grow undetected.”

  “Good point. I’m going to do my best to get the town meeting under way.”

  Amara’s brows rose. “Town meeting?”

  “Parker was pissed when he got back from his hunt. He damn near lisped, his fangs were so long. He wants the town to know about Terri so they’ll stop accusing you and start blaming him.”

  Amara blinked. “What?”

  “He hopes they’ll all condemn him for bringing Terri into town and leave you alone.” Brian shrugged. “I tried to argue with him, but when a vampire starts lisping, a Renfield starts nodding and yes, sir-ing.”

  Amara wanted to bang her head on the table. If the townspeople decided to blame Parker, they’d hunt him down and kill him. Hell, she was surprised no one had tried to hunt her yet. “Tell him to hold off on the blame game. Or better yet, I’ll do it when I get home.” She’d have to have a long talk with her lover about the wisdom of pissing off an entire town of supernaturals. The weres alone would tear him to pieces without a second thought. Everyone, even Noah Wulfenbach, had loved Ken Madison. For his death alone the pack would want blood. “I’ll see you tonight. Tell Greg I said bye.”

  “I will.” Brian looked sad. “He hasn’t spoken much today. I think he guarded us last night, and it took a lot out of him. He’s tired, and if he expends too much energy, he could fade away or be pulled to the other side of the Veil.”

  “Tell him not to overdo it.” She couldn’t begin to imagine what Parker would do if he lost Greg. “We need him here too much, okay?”

  Brian nodded, and Amara left, praying whatever shit was about to hit the fan did so far away from the people she loved most.

  It didn’t take long to get from her house to the learning center. Rock was waiting, his thick arms crossed over his massive chest, patient as the stone he was named for. “Morning, Amara.”

  Amara locked the jeep and pulled her hat low over her eyes. “Morning, Rock. We need to talk.”

  Rock led the way into the center. “Talk.”

  “I can’t take the kids.”

  Rock didn’t even break stride. “Why?”

  Amara filled him in on what happened the night before and the reaction of the townsfolk. “So if they see I’m the one leading the group, they’ll pull the kids.”

  Rock grunted. “Going hunting?”

  Amara almost sagged with relief; Rock understood and, more important, approved. “Yeah.”

  He went into his office and pulled down a shotgun. “Need this?”

  “Nope. I’ve got it covered.” She permitted bark to surface on her hands. “Do me a favor? Keep an eye out. If something smells rotten, it might be. Guard your back.”

  “Will do.” Rock put his hand on her shoulder, the heavy weight reassuring her that Rock could take care of himself and probably every person in the center. There were surprising depths to the earth elemental that few people took the time to appreciate. He was much stronger than he allowed others to realize; only his closest friends knew how strong. “Take care. I have a bad feeling about today.”

  Amara nodded. She’d be doubly on her guard. Rock’s bad feelings tended to be understatements. The last time he’d had one a Rakshasa had shown up at the center demanding the head of the weredragon. He’d refused to believe there was no weredragon and never had been. It had taken Rock hours to get the idiot to leave, and the damage to the center had been extensive.

  The Rakshasa had been very stubborn.

  She’d better be prepared for Armageddon if he was taking the time to warn her. “Thanks.”

  “Amara?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Make sure you come back. Any way you have to.”

  It was sweet the way Rock looked out for her. She couldn’t wait to introduce him to Parker. “I will.”

  She stepped outside and scented the morning air. Crisp and clean and full of green, growing things, the fragrance usually left her feeling invigorated. Today she had to wonder what rot lurked under the clean odor. She left for the woods before the first students arrived, determined to stay away from the residents of Maggie’s Grove for however long it took to find Terri and snap her like a twig.

  A few hours later the late-spring heat was beginning to wear on her. She’d found no sign of the witch, but plenty of signs of the local werewolf pack. They often ran together on the nights of the full moon, dancing under Her light and reveling together in ways a nonwere would never understand. But last night hadn’t been a full moon, so why were they out running as a pack? Did they have a new member?

  A low growl sounded behind her. Amara froze, knowing what that sound meant. That wasn’t the sexy Parker growl, or even the one where his beast had come forth, determined to protect her.

  This growl was the one of a wolf on the hunt.

  The pack was after her. It didn’t take more than a second for her to realize it was fight or die. The next second was spent dropping her backpack and racing through the trees as fast as her limbs would carry her.

  The pack had forgotten something. They thought the forest belonged to them.

  They were wrong.

  Amara’s thoughts whispered through the trees, danced across the grass, lifting roots to trip paws and branches to whip into snouts. The forest rose in defense of one of their own, and the weres yelped in pain and surprise as it turned against them.

  Amara’s feet flew across the ground, fast on her home turf. The pack had been foolish to confront her here, where she was strongest. She felt the energy flowing through her, the forest gifting her with its strength. Her skin tingled. Her bark covered her, protecting her from claws and teeth. The red leaves of her maple swirled around her as she grew. Soon she’d be ready to face them.

  They were gaining on her, would be on her soon. She’d need to face them, teach them not to chase a dryad in the woods. Let them learn the true power of the forest they played in, hunted in. This might be the wolves’ playground, but it was Amara’s spiritual home, and she knew every square inch of it.

  Ah. There. The perfect spot to confront
the pack. Amara turned and let loose her own howl, grinding the sound out until the trees swayed before her, bowing to her will.

  Silence fell as her challenge ended. Amara waited, patient as the forest itself. The foolish pups would be unable to stop themselves from answering her challenge.

  One by one they stepped out from between the trees, from underneath bushes, their hackles raised, their teeth bared. They would attack her, destroy her if they could, to protect the town from the menace they thought she was.

  And for that alone Amara would let them live. They were protecting their own. She could understand that. But she refused to lie down and bare her neck to the pack alpha for something she hadn’t done.

  They stared at one another, the dryad and the wolves. No birds sang, no insects chirped. The forest waited for the first move in a battle that could change Maggie’s Grove forever.

  It was a wolf who moved first, leaping through the air, snarling, enraged. A branch whipped out, knocking the wolf to the forest floor. And it was on.

  Amara’s consciousness sank into the trees and plants surrounding her. They became extensions of her limbs; their thoughts became hers. She knew without turning that a young wolf was sneaking up on her. A sturdy birch entangled him in its branches before he could lay one paw on her.

  Before her, the alpha snapped and snarled, held back by the thorns of a bush that had moved in front of him. Another tree bound a wolf in its roots, holding the wriggling form until the wolf gave up, panting under the weight of dirt and wood. Amara shifted forms, allowed her inner self out in defense not only of herself, but the wolves as well. She twisted and turned, careful not to do lasting damage to the creatures in front of her. A body fell under one of her blows, unmoving but alive. She swung at another and heard the snap of bone, knew she’d broken one of the wolf’s legs. The wolf whimpered and maneuvered out of the fight.

  They weren’t the ones who needed killing. Maybe someday they’d understand that neither was she.

  Soon only the alpha and beta of the pack remained. Both were tired, but so was Amara. It had taken a great deal of her energy to fight off the entire pack, and she’d need to commune with her tree to recoup a lot of it.