Coffin Girls (Elegantly Undead: Book 1 of the Coffin Girls Witch Vampire Series)

by Aneesa Price

  “That’s sweet Raulf but I don’t want to put you in danger.” Anais meant every word. He was a dear part of their lives and her responsibility, just as all of them around the table were.

  Gone was the charming, affable man and instead, steel, as sharp as claws, echoed in his voice. “That’s sweet but don’t insult me, Anais. I’m an alpha and if I can protect my pack, the witches will be tasty snacks if they step out of line – to hell with Yves,” he snarled.

  Anais shrugged, not wanting to insult him further and needing to end this conversation with the mountain of work waiting for them. “Suit yourself. We know you’re big and strong. It doesn’t mean that we don’t love you and want to protect you just as you want to protect us. Think about that before you jump down our throats.”

  Raulf held up his hands in resignation. “Okay. Point taken. Humor an old friend then?” He cast his eyes over them all and happily noted the pride that shone for him on Miss Suzette’s face.

  “We would love to accept your offer of added protection, Raulf. Thank you.” Sophie stepped in, sensing that someone needed to calm down irritable tempers, so she hooked into all of their emotions and sent a trickle of calm outwards. “When will you be moving in?”

  “Probably tomorrow. I need to inform the pack and make contingency plans for my absence.”

  She inclined her head at Raulf, “Merci again for your support. We’ll prepare the guest room for you.”

  Anais got up from the table. “Speaking of preparing accommodations, Sophie, you and I had better get going. We also need to make contingency plans for the business. Ladies, Raulf, thanks for the support. Now, let’s get cracking, shall we?”

  Chapter 3

  Anais moved through the crowd on the riverside lawn, running her gaze over the hordes of people scattered on the summer’s lawn. It was two days since the Vampire Council’s ball and the day before the witches were due to arrive – strange, Anais shook her head at the irony, for a vampire to count in days rather than decades. Bringing her attention back to the wedding, she breathed in the sense of contentment and accomplishment of an event going well.

  Circles of women stood, gossiping in evening dresses; clusters of men tugged irritably at their ties, spurred on by the heat, as though they were being strangled. With the exception of the clothing worn and the open acceptance of diversity in class and race, this plantation social gathering in 2012 could be mistaken for those held in the mansion more than a hundred years ago. The combination of men, women, music, food and drink led to a predictable outcome that was constituted of hearts mended, excited and broken. Just as predictable was that the imposing mansion took centre stage while guests, honored to be in its presence, ate and made merry in or around it.

  Laughter competed with the lively sound of the jazz band playing on the temporary stage to the left of the palatial plantation house, where the lawn met the lily-adorned pond. Couples, lured by the music, intoxicated by the heavy, warm summer’s night, danced the Cajun two-step on the temporary dance floor. They’d placed the band between the pond and the dance floor as added insurance against guests falling unwittingly into the dark waters.

  People slithered around and between the gigantic, old live oaks that stood at attention, creating a natural alley leading towards the Mississippi’s famous River Road. Some guests looked for adventure; others walked in childish awe between the ancient trees. They worshipped them reverently looking up at them, touching the edges of the hanging tendrils of Spanish moss, nature’s contribution to the wedding décor. The majority of the guests were located where she stood, drawn in by the food and drink offered on the cocktail tables set up here and there on the lawn, seemingly casual yet cunningly placed. The bride was stationed at a few of the larger tables set up on the broad gallery that encircled the entire bottom floor of the house. Anais, owner of Papillion Plantation and majority shareholder of Papillion Weddings, spotted staff efficiently wade through the crowds, barely noticeable as they ensured that guests remained happy with hors d’ oeuvress trays filled and champagne readily topped up.

  “Anais, we have a problem.” Veronique’s voice, followed by static, and came through on her ear-piece.

  “Roger, V. What seems to be the problem?” Anais began walking towards the direction where V was located, her vampire hearing knew where V was the minute she made contact and if not for that, the fact that Anais was V’s maker allowed her to link with her whenever she needed.

  “Uh...” V was at a loss for words, not a good thing. “It’s a delicate situation. Please could you come over?” A pregnant pause, then, “Over”.

  “Are the others coming over too? Over.” V’s stint in the military meant that she was a stickler for radio protocol. They humored her for the most part.

  “Negative. This requires some privacy. Like I said, it’s delicate. Over.”

  “Roger that, I’ll see you soon,” Anais frowned. Spurred on by the mystery, she made her way to the bridal change rooms on the second floor of the maison. A revolting smell permeated the air, which, thanks to her vampire senses, was heightened. Vampires didn’t really have to breath, so Anais switched to pretending, making her chest move slightly in and out, while she discontinued taking in the strangely gross-tinged air.

  V turned to her and the serious face she’d been putting on for the sobbing maid of honor behind her was immediately replaced by an ear-splitting grin. Anais’s brow puckered, it wasn’t like V to be insensitive. V turned back to the poor maid of honor and the serious face was pasted back on. Anais felt her lips twitch at the comical transformations; it was like being caught in a Shakespearean farce.

  “Shari-lee, I’ll be right back. I’m just going to go chat to Anais to figure out what we can do to help you. Don’t worry,” V placated the now hysterical girl, “we’ll sort this situation out in no time.” V ushered her wailing charge into the en-suite bathroom, “Why don’t you freshen up while we come up with a solution for you. There’s a new range of fantastic organic berry shower gel or if you prefer, lavender and passion-fruit infused bath salts. You can even relax and put the jets on.”

  “Anais, can I see you outside for a moment, please?”

  Pulled outside the room by a tomato-red V – yes, vampires have blood in their bodies and sometimes they do have enough to blush – Anais asked at vampire-soft level, “What’s going on? And what was that smell in there?”

  V was clutching her stomach, shoulders hunched in silent laughter as she leaned against the wall of the hallway for support.

  “Come”, Anais dragged V into the guest room next door. Although they never offered accommodation to wedding guests in the plantation house, it was much too big for all of them to use every inch of its space, so they used the second floor’s rooms for bridal party changes and the unexpected vampire guest, which was thankfully rare. Anais was also thankful right then that she had a space to drag the mirth-rendered V to.

  After a few more minutes of shoulder-racking hilarity, V stood up and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s the funniest thing. I swear I’ve never, ever come across it before.”

  Anais was a bit exasperated at being left out of the picture, so she just raised an elegant brow in response.

  V continued, struggling to gain composure, “It seems that the maid of honor, in preparation for the wedding, decided to lose weight so she could fit into her dress. She says she didn’t have time to do it the old-school way, so she went out and bought new diet pills. Only, these diet pills are fat blockers.”

  “That’s not unusual V, I’m not getting it.”

  V nodded as if to say, ‘wait for it’, then proceeded once again fighting against looming laughter, “This one’s side effect is anal leakage.”

  Anais’s lips curved in an incredulous smile, “What?”

  V nodded, grinning broadly, “Yep. It seems the pills stop fat from being absorbed but if you eat fatty food, the oil leaks out your derriere. Our maid of honor had a bit too much of Miss Suzette and Marie’s rich food
and subsequently had an accident. Her dress is ruined.”

  “Mon Dieu! You’re shitting me!” Anais automatically responded. A beat, “Oh God,” she grinned at a convulsing V, “talk about a Freudian slip!” Anais was caught between bewilderment and hilarity, the latter won out and she joined V in clutching her stomach in silent hilarity, for fear that the poor humiliated maid of honor heard them. Fighting for composure, she looked around the elegantly furnished room instead of V, if she looked at her friend, she’d crack up again. “I must say we’ve never had a problem like this before. Why did she eat all the butter-rich food then? She’s local. She knows what goes into Cajun cooking! And we did provide healthier options.”

  “She didn’t know until she came to me in tears and we figured it out after me probing and us googling.” V looked contrite, despite her smirk, “We shouldn’t laugh but it is unreal! So, now what should we do? I offered to arrange a car to take her home but she insists on staying for her friend - an admirable trait but one that presents us with an unusual challenge.”

  Anais cocked her head to the side, contemplating, “Then the only thing I can think of is to find her a dress and put her in an adult diaper. The dress better not be too fitting below the waist – a classic fifties wide-skirted dress perhaps or an empire line. Luckily we keep the diapers in stock for our older guests with sixtieth or so anniversaries and dresses for bridesmaids in case of accidents, though I’d never imagined we’d use both emergency supplies together. If she’s willing to go for this, then we must get her clear-headed enough to sign for the dress now so that she doesn’t renege when she gets the bill. I just hope we find a dress in stock from the emergency bridesmaid’s rail that will comfortably fit a diaper without showing it.”

  --------

  Crisis averted, Anais left V to tend to the ‘maid-of-honor in distress’ and went back to check on the rest of the wedding. It was in full swing. Wine and food were in abundance and the entire scene around her showed beaming faces.

  Anais smiled wistfully as she noticed the bride blush at the applause an amorous groom elicited from the guests. God, what she would’ve given to find and hold onto that kind of love when she’d been human! Instead life had kicked her in the ass, laughing while she floundered in its thick, sticking mud. Finding her sisters, or rather turning them, had given her a sense of purpose – of family. Anais’ maudlin thoughts were abruptly shut down. Anger, cynicism, despair hit her suddenly and hard. Sucking her in, like the sudden burn of stepping into a too hot bath.

  “Mon Dieu, what the hell is going on with me?” Anais thought in self-admonishment. What the hell kind of thinking is that at a wedding of all places.

  Feeling strangely panicked and a little out of depth as her emotional control began slipping, she hastily moved towards the house driven by the need to pull together. With each step, she felt the panic increase, she moved faster, careful not to move at inhuman speed. She went up the double stairs that led from the lawn pass the ground floor gallery, through the gigantic white wooden doors and into the house.

  The house was better, although the word, house, was used loosely as mansion was a more apt description. It was empty, quieter and calmer; the kind of serenity that came from large, well-tended spaces. If she was going to lose control, she’d be better off doing so without an audience. The party did not contract to use the ballroom, dining room or parlors that they also offered as part of their venue options, preferring the exotic of the summer outdoors on a historic plantation. So, except for the guests that would be wandering in to use the bathroom, she was safe from inquisitive eyes.

  Anais push away the panic and sought asylum in the nearest guest bathroom just off the hallway. Through the thick fog of that horrible feeling, cynicism slipped in and she wryly noted that no woman, vampire or human, seemed immune from the refuge offered by the tiled haven, especially a toilet cubicle, which she confirmed by locking herself in one. The four sides of the cubicle helped give her the illusion of containment and at that brief respite she unexpectedly felt tears well in her eyes. Short-lived relief gave way to self-frustration as she yanked at the three ply to dab at her eyes. A stray pink-stained tear escaped and she wiped it away in further irritation, wondering about the effect her emotional bout has had on her meticulous, under-stated make up. She had to, after all, go back out there. She had a role to fulfil and she needed to look the part. She couldn’t just stay locked away in the cubicle forever.

  She really wanted to stay here forever though. Her characteristic steel spine had all but melted in a messy bathroom puddle. She now understood what was meant by wanting to crawl into a dark hole and remain there. Contrary to many myths, vampires did not sleep in the earth. The idea of sleeping in damp, worm-ridden earth had always grossed her out before. There was no way her clothes would survive being subjected to nibbles from the earth’s creatures. Her flesh may be even more alluring to the soil’s vermin. Anais suppressed a shudder yet strangely, it was unusually appealing now. But the solitary blanket offered by a dark, earthy hole or a toilet cubicle weren’t options. If she stayed here, she knew the feeling would sweep her away. She could already feel it wanting to claw its way out of her, ripping at her skin from the inside. The feeling was awful and foreign. Not quite darkness. Not quite sadness. It was panic and despair. A sense of desolation; of being completely and utterly emotionally burdened. Lost. Alone. Wanting to give in and embrace the tugging isolation and yet, fighting it because it felt so horrible the more you fell as it sucked at you, pulling you in. No, being alone was the easy way out and Anais did not lack courage.

  “Where did this come from?” she wondered out loud as she walked out of the cubicle towards the antique marble basin. Normally, she relished in the beauty of every part of the maison, bathrooms included. The basin was nineteenth century French, adorned with gold taps to match the antique gold mirror. She would normally take pleasure from these small accomplishments. The house was what they’d sweated and toiled over until they’d chased the ghosts of past away and were left with a beautiful, albeit large, home. Today, she barely saw her surroundings. The feeling pushed and she pushed back harder. Wracking her brain for a solution, she took a moment to lean her long, slender arms against the cold marble. “The trick is to keep busy,” she told her reflection in the mirror. “I might be going crazy and I might be talking to myself but at least I can look good and fake calm while I’m at it.”

  She took a quick, thorough inventory of herself, carefully using a cold facial wipe to refresh. She’d pass. Hell, she’d more than pass. Her long dark hair was surprisingly intact, an elegant chignon that drew the eye to her long neck and poised shoulders, while making the most of her oval face. The stray bang, styled that way with the purpose of creating more cheekbones, was as she’d styled it a few hours ago. Well, she could testify that the waterproof mascara worked as it held fast to the long, black eye-lashes that framed her slightly large, subtly slanted brown eyes. Her lipstick was a bit smeared from the toilet paper accidentally rubbing against it. She smothered her small, full lips in Chanel’s legendary rouge noir lipstick. Black Red. The perfect colour for a vampire. The color contrasted beautifully with her pale skin and dark hair. She stood back and took another breath, looking critically at the final result. She was honest enough to admit that she was a beautiful woman. Her simple knee-length cocktail dress, only added to that, allowing her to wear the dress and not the other way around.

  An elegant woman made even more alluring by the magick that ran through her vampire’s blood. A boon and goodness, today she’d take any boons she’d get. That thought, a tinge of negativity to it, was a large enough crack to let the feeling, angry at being subdued, swamp her. She grabbed onto the basin as she felt herself drop to the floor, landing on her knees. Taking deep breaths to steady her, she fought harder for composure, feeling triumphant as she began to gain control steadily again.

  “Anais, what’s wrong.” A gentle, sweet voice alerted her to her friend’s presence. Sophie, as light
as Anais was dark, hurried towards her and led her to the cream and duck-egg blue chaise lounge that graced the space next to the vanity area, in the corner of the room. Grasping her hands in hers, brows furrowed in concern, Sophie gave her a moment, explaining. “I felt it. It was awful. This sudden attack of … it was such a horrible feeling I struggle to explain… it was… hollowness. So strong, so overwhelming I followed it here. It’s all over you, contained but a darkness leaking into your aura.” Sophie’s sweet, empathetic blue eyes swept over Anais as she did her inspection. “What happened? It got me worried.”

  “Ah, your witches blood again. I think you pretty much summed it up,” Anais responded.

  “I’m grateful my gift led me to you,” Sophie was kind, not naïve. “But, you’re being deliberately obtuse. Now answer me. What happened?” Sophie’s sweet voice was gently chiding, without judgment.

  “I have no idea.” Anais responded truthfully. They’d been together for centuries and were as close to a natural family as vampires could be so it was futile to mislead her. Besides, Sophie’s bullshit detector was as finely tuned as her own. “I’ve never felt like that in centuries of existence. I don’t even know what happened, where it came from. I was doing the usual rounds and it hit me. But I’m okay now.” As much as she loved Sophie, she didn’t want to, couldn’t go there with her. It was hard enough to think about it, let alone have an impromptu therapy session with the resident empath.

  With narrowed eyes, Sophie rebutted, “You’re not fooling me anymore than you’re fooling yourself. Talk yourself into the lie but we both know different.”

  There was a click of the lock as Sophie ensured their privacy with a little telekinesis. “Now, no one will disturb us,” Sophie continued. Seeing her friend’s objection about to be verbalized she held up her hand, “And the guests can use the other bathroom. That feeling was so horrible it merits you dealing with it now.”