by Aneesa Price
All in all, the night was going better than expected. She did a quick evaluation of everyone. Raulf was still sulking, walking next to V much like someone walking behind a casket. Marie was chatting away amicably to Niul and though the Irish witch had a glint in his eye, indicating his amusement, she was the one doing most of the talking. She undoubtedly mistook his silence as participating in the conversation. Marie was far to accustomed to conversing with the less participative dead. Like V, Sylvain was walking silently, taking in everything around them with an eagle eye. There was a hint of mischief in his glance whenever he spotted some silly behavior, which made her slightly apprehensive. There was definitely something to him, more than what met the eye. That reminded her; she needed to grill Conall, who was calmly and silently walking beside her too.
Leaning over to Conall, she whispered, “We look like we’re attending a wake. I’m not sure about witches, but vampires need to blend in. How about we loosen up a bit?” She flicked her head back towards their entourage. “And we better tell them to do the same.”
Clearing his throat, Conall forced himself to gain a bit more composure. He had no difficulty in wanting to loosen up as Anais bluntly put it. He wanted nothing more than to loosen up into her and the unbroken underlying current of risqué in the Quarter’s atmosphere wasn’t helping his growing arousal. Having her hang onto his arm, his blasted own stupid idea, was making it near impossible not to devour her right there.
“Good idea. Let me chat to the guys?” He didn’t wait for her response and let her go, relishing the relief that came with her not attached to him, and waved his pseudo-guards over.
Anais followed Conall’s lead and did the same with Raulf, V and Marie.
Raulf was uncooperative and sulking in an unreasonable manner that was a far cry from the controlled man he was earlier in the day. “I’m not going to act like an idiot. No self-respecting Cajun would act like a tourist here. It’s bad enough that I have to put up with you making doe-eyes at Mr Fabulous over there but now you’re asking too much.”
“I’m not asking you anything that I’m not asking them.” Anais stated softly, irritation evident in her tone as she waved her arms in V and Marie’s direction.
“That’s apparent, Anais. We’re as friendly as you are with them.” Raulf’s bit out the words.
“Well, you said you didn’t want to act like an idiot and you’re failing. You’re not only acting like an idiot, you’re acting like a childish jerk!” Anais wanted to scream and slap him. Of all fucking times to throw a goddamn tantrum, he had to do it now. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and whispered softly enough that only his wolf picked up what she said. “We are on a mission, one which you volunteered for, by the way, and now you’re jeopardizing it!” She took a deep breath, temper striking and getting the better of her as she shoved him away from her. “Grow the fuck up!” She spat the words at him, making him flinch. Anais hardly ever swore at them.
“Jeesh! Calm down. Your eyes are glowing and you’ll draw more attention to yourself than us not acting like tourists will.” She dragged a hand through her hair, making it splay over her shoulders and doing nothing to calm his raging libido, despite her anger.
“Just go home, Raulf.”
Her tone was so resigned with frustration that it pulled at the soft spot he’d always carried for her. His voice still held an aggravated hint of steel though, “Think of me what you like but I’m not the type of man to leave women alone with men they don’t know and don’t trust.”
“Get over yourself, Rambo, we’re fucking vampires. We’ve been taking care of ourselves long before you knew how to use the toilet!” Anais’s voice dropped to a barely audible whisper but she knew that his extra-sensitive alpha hearing would pick up the words and the aggravation.
“Cut it out you two.” V stepped closer to them, followed by Marie. “You’re drawing attention to yourselves and you’re acting like toddlers.” She turned to Raulf, eyes beseeching, “Please go home. I appreciate your loyalty and your help but in the mood you’re in, the two of you are bound to blow up soon and we can’t risk that type of exposure in public or in front of the witches.” She placed a hand on his arm and let the warmth of her air power caress him like a balmy tropical breeze, cooling him off. “Please,” she pleaded. “Whatever is going on between the two of you isn’t worth the risk to all of us. Go home and let her finish tonight’s witch-sitting. Marie and I are here and if things get out of hand, I can always call some of the guards at Papillion House, which we’ve just been too and you know it is quick ground for a vampire to cover to wherever we are in the Quarter.”
Accepting but not liking the request, Raulf narrowed his eyes, staring intently at first Anais and then V. “You promise you’ll stay in the Quarter and then come straight home?”
V nodded in agreement, “I promise.”
Raulf nodded at them in farewell and then walked up to the witches, “I have to go. Family emergency. You take care of them or I’ll whip your asses. Understood?” When the dumbstruck witches just nodded in agreement, he turned around and stormed off to hail a taxi for the ride home.
“The sting of unrequited love I presume?” Conall raised a questioning brow at Anais when she re-joined his side for their walk.
“What makes you think that?” She asked sharply, too sharply.
Conall nodded knowingly, “Your response just confirmed it. You certainly do have a way of attracting men to you, Anais. I also noticed that Yves seemed markedly fond of you tonight. Tell me, is it unrequited love with him too or were you lovers?”
It wasn’t what he said that had her that picked at her already frazzled nerves; it was the censure in his tone. Why the hell were the men surrounding her suddenly becoming dictatorial jackasses? She retorted, her voice taunt with irritation. “I had no idea that my love life or lack thereof had anything to do with vampire-witch relations. I also had no idea that your mamma raised you to have the manners of a swamp rat!” Anais had had enough of ill-mannered, arrogant men for one night!
Conall blanched, visibly. What had come over him? She was entirely correct and within her rights to be irritated with him. As witch royalty, he’d been raised to have impeccable manners and unfailing courtesy to his hosts. He was obviously failing at that dismally now. Wanting her and seeing the competition so to speak was making him irrational. “I apologize. That was uncalled for.”
“Then why did you say it?” Anais wasn’t about to let go. She had a bone to pick with the men and if he was the unlucky recipient that she could live with that. He did after all, contribute to her irritation. “If it was uncalled for, what was your motivation? Are you really supportive of the vampire-witch alliance? Is it vampires you have something against or is it vampire women? What is your problem? I know what Raulf’s is and Yves’ is. What’s yours?”
The strain of the last few days was getting to her and she was precariously close to erupting. Added to that, she hadn’t had her meal yet and the lure of the occasional sinner’s blood that they passed by was increasingly hard to resist. Conall’s blood was hard to resist too. Conall’s wasn’t a sinner; she could smell the purity of his blood but that vampire elixir promised a sinful experience. Equally alluring was the way he looked tonight. He’d also gone for casual chic in dark grey and a deep blue to match his gorgeous eyes. Anais appreciated a well-groomed man even though she wanted to rip the grey pants off his well-shaped butt and run her fingers along the buttons of his shirt until they popped off. Fuck – she was a mental slut – she’d wanted to do that to Raulf too just a few seconds ago even though they’d been arguing. Men and hormones were perplexing and driving her nuts - literally! She beat out that frustration by turning it towards him and poking a finger into him, strength unrestrained, relishing in his grimaces as she poked him, vampire-hard.
She was perilously close to a few truths, so he offered the least threatening of them, better to cause himself discomfort than create a situation that threatened the witch s
pecies. “You’re my problem,” he stated quietly. Seeing her about to huff once more, he grasped her arm, drawing her closer, under the balcony that hung over the sidewalk. He lowered his head so that her face was adjacent to his and drank in the startled beauty. Dramatics would not endear him to the current situation.
Dragging in air, he calmly continued, “I’m attracted to you and it isn’t a comfortable situation I find myself in when other men are ogling you. It makes me want to rip their throats out. A witch and a vampire in a compromising position…I find that the thought of it turns me on when it shouldn’t. There haven’t been relationships between our kinds for centuries and yet, I can’t deny this strange attraction I feel for you. I’m witch royalty and you’re a vampire princess by way of your connection to Yves. It’s not a comfortable position for a man to see something he wants so much and not be sure as to whether or not he can have it, knowing that his responsibilities to others means that he shouldn’t.”
Anais stared at Conall, unsure of how to respond to his directness and obvious sincerity. She felt comfortable enough so close to him that she knew she had to move away now before they did find themselves in a compromising position on the streets of the Quarter. “Uh..uhmm…” she swallowed, her throat parched at the intoxicating smell of his blood, heightened by the sexual tension between them. “I’m afraid that that’s beyond my job description as liaison.”
Turning away from Conall, she looked at the others and then at him, a bright smile pasted onto her face. She pulled from her internal reserves; the part of her enabled her to act a part with Yves. “There’s quite a few businesses owned by my kind,” she dared a look directly at Conall and was satisfied to see that the intensity moved quickly to bemusement, “and yours. I’m sure that you’d find it quite entertaining as part of your Quarter tour.”
Amused, Sylvain glided up to them, “I have been nothing but entertained in your company.” With a naughty glint in his eye, he took her hand and bent down to place a kiss on it; an old-fashioned male acknowledgement of a lady’s charms. The look he got from Conall on his way down to Anais’s hand was exactly what he’d hoped for; murderous thoughts courtesy of barely contained lust and jealousy. The witch had it bad.
“Alrighty then,” Anais wasn’t stupid. She’d caught that inter-play between the two witches. It was more the interaction between friends than guard and master. Either Conall was deliberately deceiving them or he was more familiar with his minions that most royalty were. Given her current level of intelligence on him, either was a possibility. “Mystic Madam is just around the corner.” She waited for Marie and V to join them and then hurriedly turned and walked off with them.
Closely on their heels, the men followed them down past bars, jazz clubs and a myriad of tourist buildings. There were less residential houses in this part of the Quarter but tell-tale signs of homes peeked out from above buildings where the top floors housed apartments. A woman on a balcony, intent on reading, actually managed to concentrate despite the noise below. Another window offered a glimpse into family life where a woman was gently scolding a little boy for some well executed mischief. Windows and balconies were immaculately kept in contrast to the revelry below. Pots of flowers, the occasional window adornment or gris-gris, a voodoo charm, offering protection, indicated a different perspective of life, part of the fabric of the quarter but compartmentalized to above the buildings. Below, the streets were thumping with life and living and they had to occasionally side-step the evidence that littered the sidewalk.
“It is a strange place, isn’t it? But wonderfully so with its lights, laughter and soul draping us.” Anais offered, watching Conall step over a ‘to-go’ cup that undoubtedly housed a beverage of the non-coffee variety before it found itself on the paving. “Don’t let a bit of dirt put you off. The streets will be cleaned before the day begins when the mayor’s cleaning crew comes around.”
“It is a magical place,” Conall nodded, waving an arm around, “not just in the pull of real magick I sense here and there but magic in the surreal human energy that pulls here.”
They made their way through the famous Bourbon Street where a historic hotel displayed a group of guests partying on its balconies. A particularly inebriated man shouted from the balcony, “I love New Orleans!” He bent over the balcony and beckoned at them. “The women are gorgeous…” Slurring with drink, he kept his sentences thankfully short. “We’re having a party up here. The best view in town. Come on up!”
Marie grinned, “No thanks. We’re off to a friend. But thank you for the compliment. Now, you step back from that balcony, we don’t want our friendly tourists to hurt themselves.” Because she really was worried, she summoned a friendly ghost friend to remain invisible to him and the witches while gently nudging the man back. The man was startled, thinking he’d lost his balance. Blanching at the possibilities that suddenly hit him, he abruptly stepped back. Marie smiled satisfyingly; you could always count on the presence of a few ghostly inhabitants in the Quarter. Growing up here, she knew most of them.
Niul stared at Marie, “Yes, it is magickal.” And not just magical, he thought, in the popularly misconceived manner. Marie didn’t pick up the innuendo in the statement, laughing at the spectacle, her enjoyment of the Quarter evident in her light step as she continued down the road. Niul put away the bit of information to share with Conall and Sylvain later.
Conall continued watching the spectacle on the balcony. The other revelers were so drunk that they were oblivious to the scare their one friend had had. Anais caught the look and grinned, “Don’t worry. It’s like those pubs you have in Ireland just on a Quarter balcony instead of a pretty little town. And no matter how drunken people get, they never seem to over-step the mark. We’ve had very few accidents in my long life here. Mardi Gras happens next month, it’ll take the merry-making to a whole new level and even that is managed well. Locals and the authorities won’t let harm come to its people or visitors. Come, Madame Mystic is just around the corner. Rumor has it that she is a witch.” Her eyes were twinkling with amusement.
Conall grinned in response, “We’ll see. The rumors of witches are even more fantastical than that of vampires. I’ll let you know if those about the Madame are true. If she’s the genuine thing, maybe she can give you a repelling potion to keep your unwanted suitors at bay.” He was rewarded with a light laugh in response and felt oddly pleased to have put it there. This woman was getting to him in a way that was increasingly hard to resist.
“That would be worth its weight in gold to me at the moment.” She tilted her head, regarding him impishly, “Tell me, though, with you being witch royalty, would it apply to you too or would you be immune?” Leaving Conall gaping at her, she traipsed after V and Sylvain into the shop.
“Close your mouth Conall, you might catch something you don’t want.” Marie grabbed Conall’s arm, Niul chortling softly at his friend’s expense.
Conall stepped into rumor central. The shop held a colorful hodge podge of anything supernaturally related, mostly pertaining to silly human superstitions. There seemed to be shelves of goods dedicated to various ‘Bayou Beasts’ as the proprietor had named it. An elaborate display held red wine cheekily named, Vampire’s Choice, a black label dripping with blood adorned regular wine bottles. Voodoo gris-gris and memoirs littered other shelves, including a book he’d read on the life of the infamous, long dead New Orleans Voodoo Priestess, Marie Laveau. Grimacing, he reminded himself that the supernatural community needed the hocus pocus to draw attention away from the reality that they lived amongst humans. The superstitions and rumors assisted in maintaining the myth that they did not exist.
Magick prickled at his shields, looking for a way in. A calming spell and a mild one. The witch who cast it held real magick but not the hereditary kind. That kind was harder to shield against. He looked at Niul and Sylvain. Their discreet nods informed him that they’d picked up on it too. Marie and V were oblivious to it though and by their happy chatter, it seem
ed that the magick had affected them. Anais seemed perplex, as though she sensed something but didn’t quite know what it was. An eerie glow had surrounded her. Before he could investigate, the spell caster bustled up to him.
“Your Majesty, what a pleasant surprise. I am honored to have you in my humble establishment.” A short, rounded woman, drowning in a muumuu, her grey hair spiraling around her welcoming face, came forward and bowed to Conall. “Please come in.” She gestured towards the back of the shop where a purple draped table and chairs held a gigantic (and fake) crystal ball. Seeing Conall’s unguarded reaction to the ball, she winced. “My apologies at the show, Sire, it is a way to make a living.”
Conall made a mental note to have one of the magickal officers visit her and guide her in more authentic and honest ways to earn an income as a witch. Witches did not need to debase themselves like this in order to live by their craft. She was a witch without mentorship. “No need to apologize and please, call me Conall, Sue-Ann. And don’t worry about the ‘crystal’ ball,” he waved her anxiety away.”
Her eyes widened immediately as he let his magick connect with hers. As one of his subjects, he may not have met her before but automatically knew every detail of her when they entered into the conversation, creating the link between them, like a puzzle piece slotting into place.
“You have been largely unsupported in practicing your craft, sister, but I’m glad we found you now. I’ll arrange for one of our good witches to come and welcome you to our fold as warmly as you are welcoming me now. You cannot be censured for what you do not know.” He felt himself warming to the errant witch. She had a good aura and was trying to live by the law of the craft, as best she knew how to, despite her misconceived notions of witch ethics.
