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

by Aneesa Price

  That sobered them considerably enough that Sylvain dismissed his fae with charm and grace that Conall knew would leave the fickle creatures feeling uncharacteristically honored and content.

  “Our mission is progressing well but slowly,” Conall observed when Sylvain joined them.

  “It’s progressing as it should be, Conall. To you it will seem slow as you’re anxious to be done with it and get back to your court,” Sylvain offered.

  Conall acknowledged the observation, “You’re probably right. With all the happenings lately, it’s the worst time to be away.”

  “Your ma’s a powerful witch, though, they’ll listen to her,” Niul placated. “She’ll keep things calm and in order.”

  “Yes,” interjected Sylvain, “she even kept you in order for centuries – still does.”

  “And you’re right again. In the meantime, we focus on the mission so we can solve the issues back home. My gut tells me we’re on the right path – the answers are here. So, progress thus far - we’ve managed to elude Yves and to be accepted, at least superficially, into the vampire world. Hell,” Conall ran his hands through his hair, perturbed and mystified, “we’re even staying with some of them but something’s off with both Yves’ plan for the alliance and with the vampires of Papillion. It’s annoying that I can’t put my finger on what it is.”

  “I know what you mean,” Sylvain echoed his friend’s sentiments. “I feel just as bewildered. We’ve infiltrated the vampire community and are unanimously supported by their council. What doesn’t make sense is the stay with the plantation vampires. When we agreed to a diplomatic exchange type of visit, I thought we’d stay with one of the council members themselves not with vampire wedding planners.”

  “Aye,” concurred Niul, scratching his chin. “The most likely explanation I could come up with is that they’re showing us what they want us to see, not what is – and that goes for both Yves and our hostesses.”

  “That’s usually the way with new acquaintances but this doesn’t seem like an illustration in peace and friendship but a ploy.” Conall looked at his friends, eyes contemplative. ” Conall smirked, “The arrogant prick probably thinks anyone who isn’t a vampire is inferior and is underestimating us. We’ve just begun and there’s little yet to go on so I think we have to continue operating as is and review our strategy after the dinner tonight. We can scope out the council members better at a small dinner affair than that ball they had.”

  “That sorts out Yves for now. What are your thoughts on the vampire mistresses of Papillion?” Conall enquired, a hand dismissively passing over the faery drink and settling on a strong measure of Irish instead. He knew it was a long shot but he was hoping that the whiskey would chase away the thoughts of a naked Anais that had popped into his mind. A warrior such as he should have better focus on the battle strategy than he was currently employing.

  Sylvain helped himself to some of the Irish drink too. “They seem very different from the rest. There’s a mystery there. It doesn’t come across as something evil, just not entirely right.”

  “They’re harboring some heavy secrets.” Niul offered insight.

  “Vampires are secretive in nature, more so than witches. Fae have secrets but we’re open about that and that we won’t share them with other supernaturals. We just hide from humans.” Sylvain’s mouth turned down in self-depreciating distaste. “I get the sense that they are using their vampirism as a means to bury their secrets.”

  Conall drank long and deep, grimacing against the erotic images the word ‘buried’ conjured when used in association with the Papillion vampires, specifically Anais. He could do with some burying inside of her. Goddess, he was hormones personified, he hadn’t been this randy since his powers began maturing.

  “As a master secret-keeper, you know how to spot another,” Conall looked at Sylvain. I think you’re right but I don’t think their secrets are linked to Yves. They maintain that façade around him too, around everyone. Even when we snooped around last night and saw them drinking in the kitchen there was nothing wrong with the picture we saw, except that they were all too beautiful to be human. A human looking in would’ve seen super-hot women having a regular girls’ night.”

  “How’d you know about a girls’ night?” Niul enquired.

  Conall grinned, “Been invited to a few of them.”

  “If I hadn’t known you for centuries, friend, I never would’ve guessed you for a ladies’ man. My faery women were dying to lay their hands on you and you were stone cold to them.”

  “He’s got his eye on the fair Anais,” Niul stared hard at Conall, entertained by the way he squirmed on the cushion. He needed to get back at his friend for the discomfort lingering in his crotch.

  Sylvain grinned teasingly, picking up the thread of banter, “Didn’t know you were partial to sleeping with the enemy Con.”

  “By the Goddess, the two of you have a one track mind!” Conall huffed in irritation sending the other two into guffaws. “I should’ve let you finish up what you were doing before having this meeting. If you can get yourselves out of the gutter, let’s finish up this conversation so you can go back to it.” Conall resigned himself to their taunting and let the laughter run out before he continued, “We have to find out what their secret is so that we know if they can be eliminated or not.”

  “Agreed,” Sylvain responded, catching his breath. “I’d hate to think of the sweet little Sophie involved in anything malevolent.”

  “You’ve got your eye on her then?” Conall enquired.

  Niul grinned, taking another poke at Conall, “You didn’t notice it because you were too busy eyeing Anais, but yes he was eyeing Sophie.”

  Sylvain didn’t rise to the bait, the best way to get them to stomp it was to just give them the information they wanted. He censored the detail, a skill he’d honed well in the centuries he’d known them, well used to their banter. “She intrigues me. She’s sweet and beautiful in the fragile way that makes me want to protect her. Then again,” he considered, cocking his head to the side, “it could be part of their strategy; intrigue and seduce us.”

  “Miss Suzette too?” Niul was bewildered.

  “Don’t be an ass, my friend. There are many happy fae who love the pleasures of an abundance of flesh, the wisdom and experience of age.” There were many in the fae court, particularly in Europe, born in an earlier era where the more curvaceous a woman was, the more desirable they found her. They struggled to find them in a world obsessed with diets and plastic perfection and often time-traveled back to where they could sate their appetite.

  Niul caught Sylvain’s thoughts and blanched in remorse. “Sorry. I was an idiot to make that assumption.”

  “I don’t think that it’s evil that we’d find in them.” Conall interjected. “I think they’re scared and protecting themselves. There were many strong wards around the whole place. It smelled of witch magick mixed with something I’m not familiar with.”

  Sylvain nodded, “Voodoo magick. It carried Miss Suzette’s scent.” He popped a faery cake into his mouth, not the human cupcake variety but rather an interesting mix of the essence of a high tea in a meadow and afternoon tea by granny’s hearth, blended into a delectable cake consistency. It tasted different to each person who sampled it, offering the flavor of the cake they truly desired to eat, be it red velvet cake or pecan praline. He let the spices of carrot cake roll around his mouth for a moment. “I got a good whiff of her when she manhandled me at the end of the evening. The scent was strongest around the house but they went over-board with it, which in itself is telling. I followed the scent down to the bayou and to the river through the oak alley too. There’s a cottage not far from the mansion where Miss Suzette lives, an old Victorian much too big for one person. It’s part of the land, probably belonged to a previous skilled employee, not slave, in that time. I looked around and it seems that there’s a family of Voodoo practitioners living there now. They all have the look of Miss Suzette so I’d guess
they’re relatives.”

  “It’s unusual for vampires to mix so freely with other magick,” Niul observed, “even if it is New Orleans.”

  “There’s more to Papillion than voodoo magick. They also have a necromancer as a friend. That’s some powerful magick they used to get the ghosts to spy on us, necromancers are the only ones who can successfully do that and they are rare.” Conall recollected the shock he’d gotten when a ghost suddenly popped into the shower with him the previous night. “The ghosts are loyal. I had a long chat to one last night and he was a master diverter whenever I tried to find out anything about the women.”

  Sylvain’s lips curved in appreciation of the women’s resourcefulness, “I had a similar experience in my bedroom.”

  “Aye, me too.” At the lifted brows for his extra-short answer, he blushed, and then added, “In the loo.”

  The other two men hooted with laughter. “Good thing ghosts can’t smell anything.” Sylvain was wiping the tears from his eyes. The image of stoic Niul conversing with a ghost while sitting on a toilet was priceless.

  “Those ghosts weren’t evil spirits and they seemed to love the women; considered them as part of the family – that loyalty says something about the women’s characters.” Conall looked at Niul and Sylvain. “We’re on the right track; they’re protecting themselves and our presence is unnerving them. I think we have to bring them over to our side, get to know them and get them to trust us. Then we’ll know how to deal with them. Until then, we’re just guessing.”

  “Aye,” Niul’s eyes gleamed with eagerness, “and we’ll be ready for whatever they bring, friend. We’ve got your back.”

  “Yes,” Sylvain nodded his ascent, blue eyes twinkling in anticipation of the challenge. Mischievously he added, “We’ll have Con’s back and he’ll be wishing to be against Anais’.” Sylvain ducked from the fairy blue apples Conall threw at him while Niul chuckled appreciatively at the pun.

  Chapter 8

  Later that evening after some self-pampering and a long, hot shower, Anais felt more like herself. That she was standing in her enormous closet, going through the ritual of choosing clothing for the evening was testament to her improved mood - it had taken the whole day to work on it.

  A heart beat entering the house alerted her to Raulf’s presence. It beat quicker, faster than his aunt’s as he hugged her, a sign of his maturing alpha. Raulf was changing, increasing in his powers and boy did that change bring trouble. Anais frowned at her recollection of how good that trouble had felt. It was the kind of trouble that she did not need in her life at the moment and she was certain that after he’d calmed down, he’d see it from that perspective too. Or not – she chewed her lip – shrugged and breathed in hope; things would go back to normal. It had to.

  She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him. Strike that. She was seriously hot for him. Then again, he was a gorgeous specimen and she was in serious sexual drought. It was tempting though, her lips pursed in contemplation, tempting to accept that love and lust, freely given. She shook her head, hair escaping the clip that held it up as she continued the mental debate. No, Raulf’s love and lust was not freely given. He seemed to want it all and it was that all that scared her. She’d taken a chance and hoped for love once and it had led to her current undead state. Bargaining on love again was not worth the risk.

  Shaking herself out of her current thoughts, she returned to choosing her ensemble for her dinner with the witches, Yves and his cronies. Clothes – a superficial indulgence but one that gave her pleasure. She breathed in the unique smells of the various fabrics; the lingering smell of sunshine on cotton, the heavy smell of denim, the metallic smell of the studs adorning some of her more sinful shoes. She was well aware that her closet resembled a department store; masses of clothes, shoes, handbags were on display on open shelves and antique coat racks, a novel stand for her more favored items.

  Her bare feet, toes painted in her signature color, rouge noir, sunk into the lush cream carpet as she padded towards the formal wear section. What to wear? Plodding through The Quarter called for comfortable, sexy clothing. Dinner with Yves beforehand demanded formal attire. Formal, sexy, comfortable; a hard task. She scanned the contents; settled for a vintage Dior black satin pants and a white Saint Laurent shirt that tied at the throat in a floppy bow, elegantly 70’s chic. Satisfied she slipped her feet into low heeled black patent leather sandals and headed into her room. She found V sitting and scowling in the chair by the fireplace and Marie lying on the bed chatting to one of their ghostly residents.

  “About time,” V’s scowl grew deeper “the witches are waiting downstairs. You’ve been brooding about Raulf way too long.”

  Anais raised an elegant brow in surprise, “Y’all know about that?” Her eyes flicked over to the bed where Marie and Sneaky Sam were eyeing her. At the tentative nods from all three, she continued with a huff, shrugging in amusement, “I guess, I should’ve shut my trap to Sophie.”

  “No one said anything, Anais, no one had to.” V explained. “We heard EVERYTHING.”

  “Everything? How?” Anais was dumbstruck.

  At the look on her face, Marie grinned, “Anais, it’s been too long for you. You’ve forgotten that as vampires we hear very well. If I can hear that crocodile swimming lazily in the river below,” Marie pointed towards the Mississippi at the end of the alley, “then I can hear your love noises down the hall.”

  Anais blushed harder, V’s lips were twitching while she struggled to keep her laughter contained and Sneaky Sam was rolling around the bed in mirth. Anais groaned, “Love noises?”

  The silly term had them all laughing from the belly. “Oh God,” Anais wiped her eyes careful not to smudge her mascara, “love noises. I had forgotten about those - God, it has been too long.”

  “It’s got you all tied and twisted. Why didn’t you go for it?” Marie asked.

  Anais tilted her head to consider possibilities, “I will admit that as tempting as it is to throw caution to the wind and just jump his tasty bones,” She licked her lips in appreciation, lips curving in response to V’s own, “I won’t because of our friendship and our family and that is not worth a fling.”

  “You deserve happiness with a man, something you have never had,” Marie interjected, “even if it is a bit of boning.”

  “Jeez, Marie!” Anais looked at her friend and the grinning ghost next to her. “Crass much?”

  “I’m just saying,” Marie shrugged, “not getting any ain’t healthy.”

  V cleared her throat, “And it would be nice if you got love and happiness along with the hot sex.”

  “I’d like that happiness. I think every woman wants that happiness. But that happiness often comes with the risk of heartbreak for both or one. If my heart broke, it would mend. I’ve had to mend it before but if he’s heart broke; I don’t think my heart would heal. I wouldn’t live knowing I’d hurt him like I’ve been hurt before.” Anais conceded with a nod at her friend in appreciation.

  “You are not Louis and you are not Yves.” V looked at her friend in empathy, understanding filtering through.

  Anais acknowledged the statement with a noncommittal shrug, displaying a false outward appearance of nonchalance, “I know, that’s why I won’t start anything with him.”

  Marie commented, “You have a hunger for our wolf – they type that won’t easily go away and his as stubborn as you are – he’ll keep at it.”

  Sobering, Anais acknowledged the truth in the statement, “I do have a hunger for him. But that’s a hunger I’ll have to sate elsewhere.”

  “So,” V picked up where Anais was at, “You’re going to take someone else as a lover and hope that he’ll realize that there can’t be anything between you and look elsewhere.”

  “Would this lover be one of the witches perhaps?” Marie asked, brows raised speculatively. “I did notice some the start of a fire taking off between you and that yummy Conall. Wouldn’t mind taking a bit out of him myself. You c
ould do worse to quieten down your lust.”

  “You could,” nodded V, “and it might sate your general lust. Whether or not it will sate your hunger for Raulf is unknown and whether he’ll fall for your bluff is a risk. Our Raulf’s not lacking in the grey matter.” V tapped her head.

  Sam sneaked up behind Anais, making her jump and reinforcing the nickname he’d earned. “God, Sam don’t do that. If I wasn’t undead already, you’d have killed me just now.”

  “Anais, if I flesh and a boner, I’d be willing to sate your hunger anytime.” He laughed and zoomed to the corner of the roof when Anais playfully swatted at him - he was incorrigible.

  Anais looked at her friends knowing that the nosiness came from concern, “I don’t know if I’ll take a lover or whom that would be – there’s too much going on for me to worry about that now.” She picked up her bag, ignoring the shaking heads of her friends and headed for the door, “Now, our guests are going to get itchy. Let’s go.”

  V stopped Anais in her tracks, ”One thing before you go,” V stopped Anais in her tracks. “That’s what Marie and I came to warn you about.”

  Anais motioned for V to continue. “Well…” V was stalling, “Raulf insists that he acts as an extra guard.” V held up a hand, stopping Anais’ protest, “He’s going with Marie and I so we’ll be there to buffer anything that might crop up and frankly, I could do with his alpha by my side tonight. We’re going into the den of the Vampire Council, even if it is temporarily set up in our Quarter house. Given what happened or nearly happened between you two, I think that he’s offering a white flag, a truce. I suggest you accept it.”

  Darn, thought Anais, she’s right. What a fucking mess!

  --------

  The French Quarter was alive with excitement, frivolity and a bit of naughty; enough to make anyone walking its legendary streets giddy in response. Despite the trial of the dinner with the Vampire Council and Raulf’s sulks, Anais felt herself respond to the unique magic of New Orleans’ oldest soul. She’d even loosened up enough to take Conall’s offered arm in supportive escort, a living crutch for what will soon be aching feet from the walk. Thank God vampires healed quickly and any woman worth her salt would even secretively admit to having succumbed to the excruciatingly painful condition of not being able to step on her own feet after a night in heels.