Coffin Girls (Elegantly Undead: Book 1 of the Coffin Girls Witch Vampire Series) (5 page)

“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.”

Feeling cornered and scared of opening herself up to the
feeling again, Anais looked for a way out. “There’s always time to do things
when you’re a vampire. God knows we’ve stacks of it. Besides, we can’t right
now, Sophie. We have two hundred guests celebrating a wedding between the
gallery and the river with three more hours of partying still to go, which I
have to oversee and you are our personal assistant to the bridal party. We have
to get out of here and back there.” Anais waved a hand towards the door, hoping
for an exit.

Sophie narrowed her eyes, temper firing up its pale blue to
indigo. “Marie Anais de Beauvieu! I’ve known you for my entire vampire
existence! That’s nearly as long as you’ve been a vampire! Frikkin centuries!
Now, not taking into account that you’re my maker, you’re also my friend and
I’ve seen you go through many things. Hurt, anger, sometimes pleasure but
always control. I’ve never, ever, ever” Sophie added in for extra emphasis,
“seen you like this. Felt you feel this way before. My protective instinct is
to look into your mind but our friendship dictates that I respect your
privacy.” She raised a stern brow, “But don’t think that I won’t do it if it’s
for your own good!”

“Okay, okay. Enough with the nagging.” Anais waved long
elegant arms at Sophie to block her pending tirade. “Just give me a moment.”
Fighting the nausea, she leaned her head in her hands before meeting her
friend’s concerned gaze. “I need the activity. I need to go out there and be
the boss and feel in control. Just for a while. Okay?” She grasped Sophie’s
hands in hers, “The feeling is mostly gone and not as bad as when I came in
here. I promise we can talk about it later when we de-brief tonight’s event.
I’ll think about it and speak about it then.”

The sense of begrudged resignation was good enough for
Sophie for now. “Okay, later will do I suppose.  Maybe better that we
discuss this with the others around. Let’s get this wedding wrapped up then.”

They’d already met with and de-briefed each of their teams.
Now they indulged in their necessary, yet enjoyable ritual of post-event
de-briefing in the kitchen. Anais loved this part of the event. The part where
she celebrated yet another success with the women she considered family, yet,
tonight, knowing the grilling that was due, made her want to make a run for it.
There was no way to avoid it though, she thought, they’d hunt her down and nag
until she caved. Under their piercing gazes she felt like the metaphorical lab
rat. Might as well deal.

Miss Suzette, plonked spicy dishes of food and wedding
leftovers on the table. Unlike other vampires, who did not have to but could
eat, they each were blessed and cursed with necessary appetites for both food
and drink, blood included of course. Then again, they weren’t the usual
vampires. They were each both witch and vampire.

Sophie, Veronique and her were transported to New Orleans
from France over the Atlantic, in dubious ships, during the very early part of
the nineteenth century. Their dogmatic, religious families had offered them to
the Ursuline nuns in Rouen for a special ‘consignment’ of virginal Catholic
girls to be brought over as brides to wealthy plantation owners. The owners
themselves were the off-spring of the original casket girls, so called because
of the dowries they brought over in caskets that were offered by the Ursulines.
With memories of their pious, educated and pure mothers in mind, the wealthy
planters had made a special request to the church for women of such character
and worthy of their bloodline.

In truth, as much as these men fornicated with the local
women, they did not feel that the local women were worthy of carrying their
legitimate off-spring. To them, the Quarter women, or women from Vieux Carré,
were uncivilized and amoral pagans. American women also did not appeal to them
as they were still carrying resentment of the Northern Repression, known to
non-Southerners as the Civil War. So to the Old Country they sent and women
such as herself, Sophie and Veronique came like unwanted gratis merchandise,
offered in shame by their families because of their unwanted birth gift of
witchcraft. Of course, their families did not find it shameful to use
witchcraft to bind their powers. The hypocrisy of the act had eluded their
parents in their over-zealous attempts to do what they thought of as
righteous. 

Rose and Marie were born witch and re-born vampire witches
in the bayou. The magick of witchcraft demanded food and lots of it, and they
accordingly grateful for living near such a food-loving city as New Orleans.
Their vampire magick demanded blood and as they were morally obligated to feed
only from sinners, New Orleans, like any metropolis, provided ample sources for
that too. With the thought of food, the spicy aroma of the dirty rice and gumbo
moved her attention from reminiscing towards the Cajun feast in front of her.
The iced tea would cut the spiciness perfectly; the bourbon would give her
courage later.

Miss Suzette turned stern eyes towards Anais. “First we eat,
then we grill you.”  The ample-bosomed hug that followed the order gave
comfort nonetheless as Miss Suzette continued, “Now, don’t fret while eatin’ my
gumbo. Won’t be havin’ indigestion getting up from my table. An’ don’t be
lookin’ at me like ‘at. I cooked and you be eatin’.” Miss Suzette’s Cajun
accent was more pronounced, indicating just how concerned she was about Anais.

Despite Anais being the older and stronger one, Miss
Suzette’s tone welcomed no nonsense and put the fear of the Almighty into her.
“Yes, Miss Suzette,” Anais replied meekly.

“Don’t mean y’all can’t talk business, and have your
meeting.”

Aah, Anais recognized the tactic. She was being softened
before the attack. Miss Suzette knew that she would find the act of going
through the de-brief comforting, giving her a sense of control.

Predictably, she felt her discomfort give way to her natural
confidence as she tackled business. “So, my friends, other than the anal
leakage incident…”

Anais didn’t get much further as a cacophony of laughter
followed. She levelled them with a severe glare, “Let’s not get into that one.
I doubt, or rather sincerely hope that we won’t have another such incident but
at least we were prepared for the completely unexpected.” Her twitching lips
belied the sternness. “Now, onto business. V, anything from security?”

“I had an exciting evening. Other than the incident ‘that
shall not be named’, we had a couple try and sneak up the stairs for some of
their own home-made dessert.” V’s lips curled as she recalled the fright she
gave the couple in the main bedroom when she stealthily crept up on them
en
passionné
on the antique four poster. Her fingers twined around the ends of
her long black ponytail as she continued, “I also had a drunken idiot who
thought that cooling off in the pond or bayou, with a full tux on, sounded like
a better idea than taking the jacket off.  But I managed to get it all
sorted in good time with no one the wiser for it. Other than those incidences,
all went without a hitch in Security.”

“Well done, V.” Anais praised. “It seems silly to have
security detail for locals’ weddings but one idiot drowning in the dark waters
out there is enough to kill future business.”

“No it won’t, it will bring in more. Loads of people come to
New Orleans looking for hauntings and anything supernatural,” contradicted
Marie. “The haunted wedding business in town is doing pretty well. Since we’ve
added it to our list of offerings, we can’t keep up. A good death will mean
good haunted wedding opportunities here. It’s Vegas cheese done New Orleans
style!” Her eyes actually shone with glee. She broke off, alternating filling
her face with bread and oysters.

Being a necromancer gave Marie the most unusual perspective
on death. She was completely at home with it. If she wasn’t already a vampire,
she’d be a gothic vampire groupie or one of the ghost-hunters that took
tourists around the city. Having power over the dead would, Anais imagined,
make things seem more macabre as was evident by Marie’s very dark,
stereotypically vampire humor. Strangely enough, she was a killer chef and the
event catering, always a monumental task, was the co-accountability of Marie
and Miss Suzette. At their other venues in the Quarter and the Garden District,
Marie had free rein to create whatever dishes she thought of and even when it
wasn’t local-inspired the guests vacuum-sucked whatever she produced. In the
plantation kitchens, though, Miss Suzette demanded a minimum of eighty percent
local food because she swore by the health benefits of local cuisine. The Cajun
food was far from healthy, being butter-rich, sugar-seeped, deep-fried
gloriousness but it, Miss Suzette and even Marie, would argue fed the soul and
stomach plenty. The two talented women had a tug-o-war going over the
plantation kitchen ever since Marie graduated from culinary school. Old school
versus new school could be found anywhere it seemed, even in a
voodoo-witch-vampire-plantation wedding venue kitchen! They were a living, or
rather undead, testament to diversity in action!

“Not going there, Marie,” Anais put a stop to Marie’s input
before her dark flights of fancy swept them up and had them offering
Halloween-themed plantation weddings. “So, how’d it go with the food?”

Miss Suzette tried and failed to sound insulted. She knew
the drill but had to defend her mamma’s recipes, handed down from woman to
woman for generations. No self-respecting cook would do otherwise.  “You blind,
cher?
You didn’t see the plates going out full and coming back ‘ere
empty?”

“Now, now, don’t get yourself in a het, Miss Suzette. I know
that you and Marie are the best cooks this side of the Mississippi, I’m just
checking if all went according to plan.”

“Ain’t even answering that question,” huffed Miss Suzette
while Marie’s glare shot bullets at her. And French chefs are known as
temperamental, thought Anais! Jeesh! Cajun could give them a run for their
money any day. Add Cajun witch vampire and necromancer to the mix and you had a
potential volcanic eruption right in your own hearth.

Miss Suzette attempted to pile on more guilt. “She’s just
being the boss and difficult. Disrespectful to my mama’s recipes…”

“And my years of study,” interjected Marie.

“That’s right, boo,” agreed Miss Suzette, about the only
time the two of them did agree was in defence of their culinary efforts, “she’d
be disrespecting our knowledge and hard work.”

“Okay,” Anais put a stop to the censoring remarks. “I guess
that’s an affirmative then. The food was on target.” Her weak attempt at a
military impersonation was marred by her still a bit French, slightly Creole,
American-influenced accent, winning her a couple of smirks and twitching lips
from around the table. “Sophie, Rose, how did it go?”

“All good my side.” Sophie responded first, wanting to get
this show done so they could get to the heart of things with Anais. “No crying
and stressing; just a happy couple having a great wedding.”

Rose added to the tales of the night’s misadventures. “One
of the guests, a Yank, thought he’d be able to handle a couple of Hurricanes.
When will they learn?” Hurricanes were drinks made from rum, rum, more rum and
a few secret ingredients that locals avoided and supplied liberally to tourists.

 “I think he was the one that wanted to cool off in the
bayou. I know the brides want to serve authentic food and drinks to their
Northern guests but it makes life as painful for us while they’re here as their
hangover is for them the next day.”

“I know it insults the Irish in you to think of someone not
being able to hold his liquor…” Anais began.

It was meant to calm but invited a rebuke from Rose instead.
“No man there. He was a wimp.”

With an audible sign, Anais brought Rose’s attention back to
her, “Okay, as irritating as the wimps can be, it is a local custom and one
that makes the brides happy. Happy brides. Happy business. Happy us. Remember,
we like our independence from the Vampire Council. Money helps get us that
independence.” Mentioning VC, as they referred to the Vampire council, make
them all blanch and nod in agreement. It was just another reminder of the
witches’ pending arrival.

“I’d say that seems to conclude our de-briefing, don’t
y’all” Sophie obtained nods of agreement from the rest of the table.

Anais pushed back against the overwhelming need to squirm in
her chair. The feeling of being a small child caught doing mischief intensified
when the rest of them turned their faces towards her, self-consciously making
her fidget. She’d just done her lecturing and bossing and it looked like they
were going to give it back to her.