“Oh. I’m sorry. I assumed… So who took care of him before he came here?”
“I did.”
“Oh?” One of Brian’s brows rose. He folded his arms across his chest as he stared at a spot somewhere to the left of Greg’s urn. Parker could swear the man saw Greg. “So how are you not a Renfield, then?”
It was like watching a cosmic train wreck. How the hell was Parker supposed to stop Greg when he couldn’t even see him?
“I was a witch, damn it!”
Brian’s eyes lit up with reverence and sexual interest. “Ooh. They make the best Renfields.” He sat forward, all puppy ears and eyes. “Can you tell me what I need to know? Please?”
“Well now.” He could practically hear Greg’s metaphysical hands rubbing together, his ego thoroughly stroked. Parker listened to the sound of his privacy shattering like a glass baking dish dropped from ten stories. “I think I can fill you in on the care and feeding of the world’s only vegetarian vampire.”
“Veg—did you say vegetarian?” For the first time, Brian seemed unsure of himself.
“Yes, he did.” Parker’s head collapsed against the back of the couch. “For the love of the Goddess, Greg.”
“How did that happen? And why aren’t you dead of starvation?”
Parker closed his eyes as Greg filled Brian in on his curse and the folly of not listening to his “Renfield.” By the time Greg was done speaking, Brian was making notes on his PDA and nodding furiously. “Want our witches to take a look, see if they can remove the curse?”
Parker froze. “Can they do that?”
“Sure. It’s one of the things we do, take care of each other.” Brian poked at his PDA again and closed it with a snap. “There are no guarantees, but it’s worth a shot.”
Parker wasn’t sure what the ultimate price of that caring would be, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll double-check the witches for you. I won’t let anyone send you to a dark practitioner.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. We have some around town, but they’re watched constantly. I’m not sure they’d bother with you anyway, other than to mock you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Brian’s eyes gleamed, and Parker knew he was being laughed at. “But the grays and the whites might be willing to look at it for you.”
Parker almost asked what the hell that meant but decided at the last minute he didn’t want to know. Besides, he could always ask Greg later, when the Renfield wasn’t around. “Let me think about it.”
Brian nodded and made another note. “All right. So can you fill in your turning history for me? I have to file the temporary Renfield paperwork with the township.”
Good grief, there was paperwork?
“You mean you don’t know about Parker and Jessica—”
“Don’t say it, Greg.” Parker sighed as the ghost laughed. Every time Parker mentioned his dame’s name, Greg lost it. It wasn’t her fault someone had named a cartoon after her. “I was turned in 1811 by Countess Jessica Le Lièvres, a noblewoman on the run from Napoleon—or so I thought. To her I was just a handy snack shack while she hauled ass across the continent. We spent almost a year together before she decided she wanted to keep me and turned me.”
“Wow. I’ve heard of more brutal turnings, but that one?” Brian whistled.
“It wasn’t that bad. Once we left France, we had a wonderful time. We went to Rome, Venice, Austria and even visited Russia. Jessica took care of me, taught me everything I know. Our relationship ended on good terms. I send her Christmas cards every once in a while.”
“How did you meet Greg?”
This time it was Parker who snickered, while Greg yelled at him to shut up. “The only thing I’ll say is it involved Mary Jane, a six-pack and the strangest urge to eat peanut butter and marshmallow bars.”
“I was hungry!”
“I am so worming that story out of you.” Brian chuckled. “So I need to hit the grocery store and stock up on what you need. I’ll pick up one of those diabetic lancet pens so you don’t have to deal with the skanky bagged crap I hear you’ve been adding to your diet. Any preferences? Peanut butter, maybe?”
“Shut up.”
“Green. Leafy. Maple syrupy.”
Oh hell. Had he given Brian something to do? Did that make the man officially his roomie?
Great. Now he had two people willing to mock him and order him around. Just what he needed.
“Got it.” Brian tucked away his PDA. “Thanks for giving me a chance. And if you decide you don’t like me after a month, you can request a change of Renfield, and a new one will be assigned for a trial basis.”
So he only had to live with Brian for one month? Brian didn’t have to tell him that. It was a mark in the man’s favor. “Thanks.”
Brian stood, preparing to go. “Well, it was nice—”
“Wait! Remember, Terri is bloody dangerous. If you see a crazy woman sprouting dandelions, run like hell, got it?”
Brian laughed. “That will be more of a pain than you imagine, since a number of our inhabitants have sprouted something over the years. What does she look like? Can you sketch? I bet I could convince the sheriff to put up a Wanted poster if you like.”
“Oh yes, brilliant idea. Not. Terri has killed anyone who’s tried to stop her.”
“Other than Greg.”
“Greg could protect himself.”
“Damn straight.”
Brian put his hand on Parker’s shoulder. Parker jumped as something passed between the two of them, something strange. Something that brought a look of warmth and satisfaction to Brian’s face. “Don’t worry. We take care of our own around here.” He stepped back, but the connection didn’t break. “Do yourself a favor. Let Amara Schwedler know about this Terri person. I have the feeling she’ll be more than interested in helping you.” Brian winked and sauntered toward the door. “Be back soon.”
Brian shut the door, leaving behind one confused vampire and his little ghost too. “What the fuck?”
“Welcome to Maggie’s Grove?”
Parker rolled his eyes and headed back to the kitchen. “At least he didn’t bring me flowers and a fruit basket.”
“Nope. Just his nubile young self,” Greg purred.
Parker pretended to gag and stuck his fingers in his ears. “Lalalalalalala!”
“Homophobic asshole.”
“Lecherous old goat.”
“You’re pissed because I never tried to bone you.”
“Stay away from my man-bits, perv.”
“You think he likes black men?”
“Sure. But I think he likes them better when they’re capable of passing him the salt.”
“Prick.”
“What did I say about my man-bits?”
“You might want to take your man-bits and aim them out the window.”
Parker would have given Greg a look if he’d been able to see him. “Why?”
“Amara is back.”
Parker was out the back door so fast, not even Greg could keep up.
Amara took a deep breath. A serene smile slowly crossed her face. On nights like this she always felt so alive with the beauty of the mountain above her, the moon shining its silver light across her garden, the crickets chirping their song of spring. She turned, only to find herself staring at a pair of fangs.
“Hi.”
Amara screamed and lashed out, punching the toothy trespasser right in the chest.