Coffin Girls (Elegantly Undead: Book 1 of the Coffin Girls Witch Vampire Series) (9 page)

“I’m sorry my friends,” Conall replied, grinning at the
discomfort obvious from t heir bulging crotches and not feeling sorry at all.
As petty as it was, it was gladdening to know that he was not the only sexually
frustrated man in the room. Anais’ attraction still puzzled and irritated him.
He waved Sylvain over, “We have to discuss our observations of last night and
our next steps. We’re on a mission for the Goddess, remember?”

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.

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.”