Sophie knew that they acted out of concern, knew that her hurt was unfounded, but it stabbed nonetheless. Feeling dejected, she barely nodded, feeling unlike a Coffin Girl. She turned away from Anais, ignoring the pained expression on her face. Gone was the camaraderie they’d felt earlier. Instead, the room felt heavy with concern and edged with guilt. “Thanks, but there is no need to assist me,” Sophie informed Miss Suzette. “I’ll pack my bags myself.” Needing to get out of the room and have some space to quiet down all the emotions flooding her from the others, she fled.
Chapter 5
Sophie and Sylvain made their way to the portal that would take them to the bayou fae hollow. Sylvain had asked if she wanted to teleport there but she opted to walk instead. She needed the time to think. The bayou night was warm and comforting, its thick air wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. Its creatures were noisy and startling, but they were without the traumatic heavy feelings humans carried around with them. Sophie immersed herself in the atmosphere. The vampire within her relished the dark. With each step, she breathed and found walking alone with Sylvain a non-issue too.
Thankfully, Sylvain had kept quiet the entire trip, leaving her to her own thoughts as they made their way past the historic slave quarters, the new school buildings, and through the no longer used sugar cane fields. The vegetation thickened as they entered the actual bayou. Gnarled roots covered in slippery mud and even more plants, often too interspersed to identify the individual species, made for a trek that was physically challenging, even for immortals. Her vampire hearing picked up the cry of a bird, the rustling of leaves as a snake hissed and went in search of prey. Sophie welcomed the darkness; it was a good match for her frame of mind.
Sophie’s first trip the bayou fae hollow had been with the bleak knowledge that they had to rescue a group of captured witches and without an inkling of what to expect. Their destination was one of the many hollows Sylvain’s subjects lived in across the human and supernatural worlds. Being fae, he was naturally secretive about describing them or even their locations. All they knew was that he had chosen this hollow as his primary residence going forward until they had completed the Goddess’s mission.
Being wary themselves as both vampires and witches, the Coffin Girls would have questioned his reticence, but he had proven himself trustworthy by hosting them and being willing to sacrifice his own life and that of his warriors in their previous quests. The Coffin Girls and their allies had an open invitation to visit the hollow and didn’t usually need the escort of Sylvain or one of the fae. However, their magick was powerful and the portal would detect Sophie’s intention to stay there as opposed to just stopping by and would have declined her entry or not shown itself at all. This is why she was accompanied by the Prince himself. Of course, Sylvain could have sent one of his subjects, but he was nothing if not gallant, and with being a close friend of theirs, he gracefully accompanied her. This contradiction of honor and grace-meets-mischievous-sex-god was what put Sophie on edge around him. She barely knew what to make of him. Usually, she could read people’s emotions and thoughts, but Sylvain always shielded his feelings from her, leaving her feeling perplexed and frustrated. Sophie had no cooking clue how she was going to survive the coming weeks, with the epitome of temptation she called ‘friend’ always around.
“We’re here,” Sylvain gently interrupted her thoughts. He turned towards the black space of the bayou, his lips moved quickly, silently as he uttered ancient words of fae magick. The portal appeared, a round, glistening apparition that served as entry into the hollow. Holding out his hand to her, he gently pulled them through it. Contrary to what sci-fi movies depicted, there were no whirlwind drops, no zooming lifts, no clinging goo, and no sounds as they stepped through it. And as easy as that, Sophie once again beheld a place of fantasy, of childhood dreams, that served as an abode for the immortal fae.
Rainbow flowers as bright as the desert sun winked at her from gardens that varied from sculptured to fancifully free. The fae homes were as vast as the colors that adorned them, a veritable cornucopia of residential architecture. Strangely enough, though you could find nearly any type of house in the hollow, from modern to medieval, you didn’t find sky-scrapers. As a red dragon, or more correctly, a Draig Goch, frolicked with a swarm of colorful butterflies and a golden goose in the expansive blue above. She wondered what sorts of creatures humans had chased away when they’d embarked on the creation of those concrete giants. Or rather, what modern technology and science had dispelled as myths - not just through research, but inadvertently through their actions, too.
Now, more familiar with the hollow than her first visit, she waved back to its welcoming inhabitants as they called out to her from balconies and gardens or just hollered a greeting. She followed Sylvain up the main street towards his home. Sophie was awestruck at the changes Sylvain had made to the castle. Before it had been impressive, but now, it was breathtaking. Gone was the austere residence befitting an aristocrat and in its place was a true faery castle in sparkling hues of blue, teal, and mother-of-pearl with hints of gold and silver-grey.
Mistaking her silence for fatigue, Sylvain again interrupted her thoughts, “I think you’ve been through a lot tonight.” Sylvain lifted his hand, and on cue, Ailfried, Sylvain’s head butler came scurrying towards them. “I’ll let Ailfried take you to your room so you can rest. If there’s anything you need, please ask. Treat my home as your own for the remainder of your stay.”
Sophie nodded, “Thank you.” She might not be able to sense his emotions with her gift, but the look on his face offered sincerity and honest hospitality. His tenderness only served to lather the guilt on thicker at how waspish she’d been with him lately.
“Shall I see you for dinner? Or would you prefer a tray to be brought to your room?” Sylvain asked.
“I think I’d like to join you for dinner,” Sophie replied. “What time is it?”
Sylvain smiled, “Great. Dinner is in about two hours so you have ample time to settle in. Do you remember how to get to the dining hall?”
“Yes, thank you,” Sophie replied suddenly shy under his scrutinizing gaze.
“See you later then,” Sylvain stated. He moved to turn away, then looked back. “I forgot something. I’ve arranged for fresh bags of blood for you. It’s in a fridge in your room along with a microwave. I wasn’t sure how much to get, so if you need more, just shout and I’ll arrange for more from the local blood bank.”
“Thank you,” Sophie muttered, then scurried away to her room. Sylvain had been so kind and welcoming and she’d been acting like a surly infant. Mon Dieu, might she have the strength to fight this malady and learn to control her powers before she isolated herself from everyone that cared.
xxx
Sophie stopped short at the entrance to the dining hall. It was not the glamorous and sophisticated room she remembered eating in before. Instead, she found herself faced with an upmarket version of a family eatery. The only difference was that instead of being served by waiters, huge mounds of piping hot food and bowls of salads dominated long wooden tables and were flanked by sturdy wooden chairs.
The one side of the room had a few nurseries worth of fae children playing and scrabbling along an oversized apparatus that looked like a jungle gym meets tree house and pirate ship. The sight was ridiculous and charming. It seemed that all children, even supernatural ones, liked the same things. The fae parents were easily identifiable at the tables closest to the play area as their eyes momentarily left the faces of their conversation partners to do a quick check on the nearby children. The rest of the room, although room was a relative term - it was more like a dining hall for a small city that held rows upon rows of food-laden tables and probably every faery in the hollow.
During their first visit, they had asked Sylvain why the fae dined together and not in their homes. Sylvain had looked surprised at the question, as though not dining together in the hollow was ludicrous. He explained that the fae were as
collective as much as they were individuals. Sophie had picked up that there was more to it than that, but sensed that it was one of those secrets he wasn’t willing to easily share.
Speaking of the devilishly hot fae, he was heading – no, gliding - towards her. “Sophie,” Sylvain’s pearly whites glistened, sending the usual frisson of awareness that followed it. “You look beautiful.”
Sophie looked down at her dress. She wore a cerulean blue dress, anticipating a different kind of venue and ambience. It was flimsy, girlish, and embellished with the same diamante pattern on her strappy sandals. Sylvain, on the other hand, wore lounging clothes - grey linen pants and a white cotton shirt. The white looked good against his tanned skin, making his hair more golden, and eyes even bluer.
“I think I’m a bit over-dressed,” Sophie observed.
Sylvain waved the remark away, “Not at all. I was remiss in informing you of all the changes I had made here. And, I’m honored you took the time to get dressed up. You look beautiful and the fae welcome beauty. Besides, the changes are new and you’ll notice a few of the fae are still dressed formally. Old habits die hard, it seems.”
“Why did you change the dining hall?” Sophie inquired.
“I was inspired by how you live at Papillion,” Sylvain replied candidly. “The table in the plantation kitchen is the center of the home. It is where you all share, love, and learn. We had sharing and learning here, but the difference is that you are more relaxed, less informal, and your love is deeper. I’d been an absent monarch for centuries and the fae were wary of me. This is one of my ways of showing them that I’m approachable, my version of PR, and despite our close connection, fae are formal when together.” He seemed to consider that statement, then shrugged, “Well, most times anyway. I thought that it was time for us to loosen up.”
“And other times?” Sophie probed, tipping her chin up to look at him.
Sylvain’s eyes sparkled, mischievously, “I hope that is a revelation I can make to you in future.” He reached out and gently pinched her chin.
Swatting his hand away, Sophie ignored his chuckle by paying more than necessary attention to the food she was determined to eat. She wasn’t hungry for food. She wanted to take a bite out of his scrumptious derriere.
xxx
Sophie and her maman were huddled together within one of the chateaux’s secret passages. Despite the thickness of the walls, the battle cries, clink of knives meeting, and the inevitable yells of death penetrated the barriers that were meant to keep them safe and hidden. There had been rumors of witch hunts, but they had occurred far away from their small village. Little did they know that the so-called ‘Warriors of God’ were stealthily making their way to them. They’d approached her papa, the Duke, demanding that he hand over her and Maman, stating that the act would redeem the souls of her father and brothers. When her father refused, the battle commenced. It was an unfair battle, as her father and brothers had been outnumbered, but Sophie prayed that their exceptional skill would see them win.
Whilst the battle ensued, Maman had dragged Sophie to the hidden passages within the chateaux. They sat, trembling and waiting for their victorious men. Sophie stole a glance at her maman. She was as white as the Chantilly lace she wore around her neck, whispering reverently, begging for deliverance. Sophie decided to join her in prayer and grasped her maman’s hands, seeking comfort and hoping that the joint requests to the God above would hold more weight.
Maman’s sudden cry jerked her out of her trance-like chanting. Her face was a mask of pain. Her maman had felt the metaphysical bond that bound her to her husband and sons being but. So, Sophie’s father and brothers were all dead.
Asleep in her room at the fae hollow, Sophie sobbed while some part of her knew it was a dream and begged to be released from sleep, in order to end the torturous recollections of the past.
Then the dream changed shape and Sophie found herself in a wagon, heading towards the mass grave where the executed witches would be unceremoniously dumped. Her pretend death had allowed them to place her body with that of the truly dead, persecuted witches. She waited for the wagon to be covered, then crawled out of the middle of the body pile, and sat as far back in the corner as she could. The covering was meant to mask the smell of rotting flesh from possible travelers the wagon might pass by. For the public to know that witches were being persecuted was one thing but seeing and smelling the results of it was another. The religious heretics would not risk the public’s sympathy - they were nothing if not cleverly political. Sophie tried to ascertain where they were by the sounds outside the wagon. She hoped that she could identify when it was deep enough within the forest. There, she planned to jump out of the wagon. She could get lost, hunt, eat berries, and perhaps wash. She might find a branch to climb up onto, and get some sleep. Then, she would plan her next steps.
The sudden jerk of the wagon startled her. Sophie hoped that she hadn’t somehow missed her chance to escape. But, the sounds of men shouting and again, that dying yell, told her that the wagon was perhaps being held up. She knew that this part of France was notoriously known for its highwaymen and a covered wagon usually carried merchandise to villages for trading purposes. Would they leave the wagon alone once they found out that all it carried was dead bodies? She prayed that they would. Then she’d still be able to escape.
Men approached the back of the wagon and Sophie made her way softly into the pile of bodies, pushing aside her nervousness, and ignoring her pounding heart. She had to pretend to be dead again. But she was too late. Just as she was about to lay down, the cover was pulled back. Sophie looked up into Sylvain’s face.
“Sophie, wake up,” Sylvain’s voice broke through her nightmare. After having seen his face in her nightmare and now here in the present, Sophie instinctively edged away from him.
“It was just a nightmare ma petite chérie,” Sylvain soothed. “You’re in the hollow and you’re safe.”
“It was you,” she accused him.
Sylvain blinked in confusion. “Sophie, it was a nightmare. You’re in the hollow, now with me. I haven’t done anything,” he said, in an attempt to bring her back to reality.
“I know where I am,” Sophie bit out irritably. There were so many emotions going through her at the moment that she didn’t know what to do. Logic had been replaced by instinct—the same instinct that had kept her alive in France centuries ago.
“I don’t understand,” Sylvain stated, puzzled. He’d heard her cries from his room down the hall. Although he had his own wing apart from the guest wing of the castle, his friends often slept close-by when they stayed over. It made the mammoth place feel more homely. Sophie had never stayed over by herself before though and looking at her in bed—beautiful and broken, he questioned his sanity. One part of him wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, the other wanted to play dirty. Yet, despite the throbbing need located in the area of his crotch, he wasn’t a blackguard and willing to take advantage of a guest who was both in a fragile state and under his protection. When Sophie continued to stare at him, blue eyes brimming with unshed tears, he repeated, “I don’t understand. Please explain to me.”
Sophie took a deep breath and faced him, no longer afraid, the fugue following her nightmare having evaporated. “I was in a wagon in France with the bodies of executed witches. My mother was amongst the dead. You’re the one that stopped the wagon and killed the guards. I had forgotten what my savior had looked like. I’d blocked it, from my mind. In my dream, my nightmare, I saw his face and it was you.”
Sylvain seemed to recall something as he sat back on the bed, thinking. “I did much in those days,” he said, cryptically. “Tell me more of what you remember.”
Sophie huffed in frustration. What was a monumental moment in her life, didn’t even register with him. She took a breath and enlightened him. “You told me not to be afraid, and then led the wagon to a deeper part of the forest. It was not a well-traveled path. After salting the dead and burning
their bodies, you gave them each a separate burial. You’d brought a sympathetic priest from a nearby village to bless the graves. You gave me food, something to drink, and clean clothes. You also showed me to a nearby stream where I could bathe. You said…”
“I said that you’d feel better once you washed the smell of death off of you,” Sylvain interjected, long lost memories returning rapidly. “That was you?” Sylvain asked, regarding Sophie. “Well, I know, now, that it was, but in all the times we’ve been together, I never would have thought that the frightened, traumatized girl had been you.”
“And, I never would have thought that the man who had saved me, helped me for no price, but the opportunity to be kind, was you,” Sophie stated.
“Well, no wonder you blocked it from your mind, Sophie. What you had endured was cruel and inhumane. I believe that it is a natural reaction.”
“Yes, but you see,” Sophie moved closer to sit next to him and took his hand in hers, “I never got a chance to say ‘thank you’.” She smiled sweetly, sadly, and with the type of gratitude he didn’t want to see on her face.
Supernatural Seduction (Book 2 of the Coffin Girls Series) Page 6
