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

  The Coffin Girls: Elegantly Undead

  (Book 1 of the Coffin Girls Series)

  By Aneesa Price

  Copyright 2012 Aneesa Price

  All Rights Reserved

  To my husband, Rashaad and my daugthers, Aaliyah and Zarah - you are, as you always were, my inspiration.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 1

  Vampire songstresses were belting out cheeky, sultry lyrics to jazz of old, loud enough to drown the constant hum of conversation and adding a fissure of electricity to the spiciness of the atmosphere. The undead, hot, sexy and enchanted by the atmosphere were delving into the spirit of the event, manipulated by the ambience so carefully created.

  “So far so good,” Marie slid up to Anais; both of them wearing mile-wide grins as they watched their theme, Burlesque, consume the party-goers. “The food, the décor, the drinks, it all fits in so well.”

  A waitron on stilts glided past them bending in a way that would’ve been awkward for anyone less flexible. Taking a flute of vampagne (champagne infused blood) from a passing tray, Anais agreed, “Definitely better than we dreamed of. I love that the staff are all part of the show, even the waiters. What a mission to staff this event but now it seems so worth it!” Anais grinned smugly at the recollection of interviewing vampires for the positions of waitrons and performers. They’d had their eyes full of hot, male vampire candy.

  “Yep,” agreed Marie. “The waitrons are paying off, big time. Look,” Marie inclined her head in the direction of a particularly stiff-lipped ancient undead, “even Maurice is letting loose!”

  Anais eyed the staff dancing in between guests, serving straight blood, vurricanes, blood infused with the infamous New Orleans cocktail, hurricane, blocolate, a blood and chocolate vodka mix and vampagne. Some vampires did enjoy non-red or blood-free drinks and those were making the rounds too.

  “Uh-huh. This is a good idea, one we can use again. The waitrons are like mini-performers. Like an unexpectedly good side-dish, not just the usual discreet, polite servers of food. And then you get the performers who are good enough to shine brighter than our colorful staff prancing around the tent. They’re brilliant. The performers are really, really brilliant.” Marie’s eyes were sparkling as she watched a vampire risk his neck, literally, while juggling four whirring chain saws. She wasn’t the only one entranced. Although, as both a vampire and a necromancer, she leaned towards the macabre and was naturally lapping up the insane fantasy they’d created with this event. Every vampire in the audience watched the performer, hoping either for an entertaining ‘poof’ or empathetically dreading one. “Finding vampire burlesque performers was a painful process too but so worth it.”

  “We’re a hit, ladies! I’m getting really good vibes from everyone.” The festive atmosphere made Sophie, their empath and fellow events planning vampire, smile as she joined them. It was infectious. “Has anyone heard from V yet?”

  “She’s doing another round. The last time I saw her, she was actually really annoyed.” Anais smiled at the irony. “She complains when there are her ‘incidences’ but when there are none, she becomes suspicious and the more suspicious she becomes, the more annoyed she gets. She keeps waiting for something to happen.”

  Anais looked around at the packed marquee, “With this crowd, I’m glad V is at the helm of the security detail. Vampires, booze and sensory overload – was a recipe for any number of mishaps. Paranoia is part of the job description, I guess.”

  “The food’s flying. I better get back to cooking before Miss Suzette comes at me with a wooden spoon.” Marie took off through the service door of the marquee. Miss Suzette, the voodoo priestess, although she’d deny that bit, citing that she only did a bit of kitchen magick, was the only non-vampire in their household and ruled them all from its enormous kitchen with a cast-iron skillet and ingenious ways of keeping them in line. Who’d have thought that a Cajun woman with a big heart and an even bigger girth had such power over a group of vampire women with a few centuries between them!

  “This is beautiful.” Sophie whispered in awe.

  Anais nodded her ascent. They’d planned and hosted thousands of events and yet, there was something about this night that seemed extra special; possibly because it was so avant-garde. “As much as I dread the interaction with the Vampire Council and Yves, I admit to enjoying the limitless budget we play with when we do this annual ball.” The Vampire Council had copious amounts of the green. So, no expense was spared. They’d sourced a vintage burlesque tent meets marquee from Europe with all the trappings. It sat on the huge lawn of their home, Papillion Plantation, which was reserved for big events that could not be accommodated in the house or ancient live oak alley. The marquee was bright red on the outside, the color of fresh blood. This was juxtaposed on the inside with velvet draped along the walls, dark and red; colours of old blood. Leaded and stained windows covered nearly the entire circumference of the tent, revealing willows and oak and the bayou at night. The pièce de résistance was an enormous crystal chandelier hanging over a circular stage in the middle of the tent. The décor was abundant, indulgent and clashed in a way that coordinated in craziness; all glitter, kitsch glamour and rich, deep colours.

  It wasn’t just a ball or a dinner and dance. It was a show of burlesque that invited the guests to experience it as part of the world they created inside the tent. They’d timed it so that there were performers during every course of the meal with dancing in between and live singing, for the more exuberant guests. The acts ranged from crooners and lively jazz numbers to acrobats and contortionists. There was enough eye-candy for both the male and female guests and if guests played on both teams then they were lucky enough to have their eyes pop appreciatively all the time. Small four-seater tables were strategically placed in concentric circles around the stage with enough space to allow the variety of waiters, entertaining themselves dressed in burlesque, as celebrity look-alikes, in cheesy Halloween costumes and as pop culture icons, pirouetted around tables carrying plates of food. The waitrons were following orders precisely as instructed and were involving guests in the show by occasionally grabbing them out of their chairs with vampire strength, to take a whirl around the dance floor that surrounded the immediate vicinity of the stage. It was decadent, hedonistic and off-centre enough to feel fantastical.

  The main course was being served and Anais ignored the grumbles in her tummy as a waiter dressed as Marilyn Monroe twirled past her. “Marie and Miss Suzette have certainly outdone even themselves!” She stepped back as more dancing waiters came bearing plated meals of chilly-infused chocolate gator fillet, probably all rare bordering bloody. Dietary requirements were easy to cater for when hosting vampires. “That,” Anais pointed at the dish, “is going to usurp the crawfish gumbo’s place as our signature dish. Mark my word.”

  “I don’t know.” Sophie countered. “I kinda agree with
Miss Suzette about home cooking. This is decadent and rich and wonderfully exotic but the crawfish gumbo’s home to me and comforting.” Sophie’s gaze was wistful as she spotted the dish drift past. “When’s Yves going to say his speech? We’ve never seen any of their kind at one of our balls or any of our events come to think of it. In fact, they usually avoid us at all costs. I wonder what’s going on.” Sophie eyed the tables to the one side of the tent, where a number of witches sat, some wearing suspicion and others stupefied by the carnivale even though they wore some of the complementary hats, masques and boas provided to the guests to include them in the festivities. “They are yummy, though.”

  Anais nodded slightly, leaning towards Sophie to whisper so that none of the others with their hyper-sensitive hearing could eavesdrop, “Yummy doesn’t even begin to describe them. It must be pure witch blood. I could happily forget our vow of not drinking from the source and sink my teeth into one of them in particularly.” The one witch was like the night’s event; decadent, tempting. She’d noticed him as soon as he’d arrived. At the start of the Vampire Ball, she’d stood at Yves’ side, welcoming the guests while dressed as a 1920’s burlesque showgirl. She was never modest but the head to toe appraisal he’d given her had made her feel deliciously naked and uncomfortably self-aware of the little she was wearing. It had been a long time since she’d felt that pull of attraction from a man, but this ruggedly handsome witch with his dark wavy hair, dark blue eyes glinting with knowledge and the lilt of Ireland in his voice, pulled at her. It had taken all her control to not pull him into a dark corner and sink into him when he’d leaned over and kissed her hand. His costume of debonair nineteenth century highwayman spoke of danger and only fuelled the attraction - the unwanted and dangerous attraction. For the first time in ages, being at Yves’ side had been a blessing and had help her tear her eyes away from the skin peeking through the white linen shirt, the broad expanse of shoulders and the narrow waist. She’d lied to herself, telling her that she was imagining the well-formed, tight ass as he walked away with a hostess, dressed as Marie Antoinette, to his table.

  Feigned ignorance would continue to serve her well as she deliberately ignored Sophie’s review of their special guests. “Yves is playing some game.” Anais searched the crowd for their council leader. He wasn’t seated at the head table with the other ancients. There was definitely something coming. “We’re not the only ones that have noticed our special guests and Yves is keeping us waiting for a reason. This can’t be good. When he’s this secretive, there’s always a casualty.” A feeling of dread began to settle in her belly. Yves was her maker and she’d spent a significant amount of her earlier years as a vampire under his wing. It had not been a happy time in her existence. Resisting the urge to rub her tummy, she was reminded that she hadn’t fed in a few hours. “Sophie, could we go grab one of the blood cocktails quickly in the kitchen please? I’m starving. Maybe we can grab a quick snack too. I’ve a feeling that we’re going to need our strength for what’s to come.”

  “Sure, let’s go.” Sophie grabbed Anais’ arm. Worried, she started pulling her towards the service door; it was rare for her friend to ask for help.

  Before they could get through the door, Claude, Yves’ lackey and a spineless moron, stopped them. “Yves invites you to join him outside, Anais. I’m sure that our dear Sophie is more than capable of overseeing things while you attend your master.” He indicated the tent opening that led to the bar area outside where they’d recreated a pirate’s tavern. Anais wasn’t old enough to have experienced that time but Google and “Pirates of Caribbean” (with the added benefit of watching Johnny Depp as part of work research) had helped guide them as to the look and feel. They’d even procured props from the set courtesy of a vampire well connected in the inner circles of Hollywood.

  “I’ll get that drink outside, Sophie.” Anais was being summoned and no vampire denied Yves anything. She repressed a shudder at unbidden memories. “Thank you Claude, I’ll go to him directly.”

  Yves and the witch were seated at a tavern table being served tankards of drinks by a barmaid, wearing the name-tag, “Wench” in a tongue-in-the-cheek manner. Yves was undoubtedly having bloody beer and the witch was sipping the pure brew. They turned as she neared them and she felt the pull towards the witch again. Inhaling deeply, straightening her spine, she made her way forward.

  “Yves, is there anything I can do for you?” She pasted a smile on her face and forced her eyes to shine.

  “Ma chérie, we’ve been anxiously awaiting you.” Yves stood up and kissed the air on either side of her face. He was a polite blood-sucker. “I’d like to formally introduce you to a new friend of mine, a future partner, if you will.” Yves, a golden haired Adonis, resplendent in velvet as black as his heart, waved a long, elegant arm towards the witch. “Meet Conall O’Leary, Prince of Witches and their ambassador to our humble event.”

  Insincere much, Yves? Anais ground her teeth. The event took months to prepare and no expense was spared. Humble my ass!

  “Welcome again, Mr O’Leary. Papillion Plantation is always glad for the company of new friends.” Friends with benefits stole into Anais’ mind. She took a sip of the bloody beer offered to her, praying for fortification. She felt like those horny, hormone-driven teenagers in the Spring Break movies Sophie used to be so fond of in the eighties.

  “Thank you, Miss…” he looked enquiringly at her with those darn eyes, making her feel like she was the only person in the room.

  “Anais is fine. We vampires are quite comfortable with first names.”

  “Then please call me Conall.”

  “Okay, Conall.”

  Vamp. Temptress. The words sprung to mind as his eyes took their fill while he heard his name on her lips. She was a vampire and as tempting as hell, literally and figuratively. He’d felt sucker-punched when he first saw her and having her in close proximity again gave him another kick to the gut. He didn’t normally react like this to a woman. There were enough of them where he came from. It had to be a biological reaction to being one of the few non-vamps in what was still speculatively an enemy camp. For all he knew, she was a decoy and a planned seductress. He just had to keep that in mind and he could continue to give his eyes a treat. His eyes thanked the Goddess for her costume. Red and black, lace and velvet, fishnets and ribbons and fuck me heels that did things to the imagination, were unnecessary adornments for a petite, curvy body and chocolate brown eyes that pulled a man in. If the outfit was sinful, the woman was more so. He wanted to peel away the layers of fabric and uncover that white, pale skin, see that dark hair spread out and her legs spread even further.

  Yves caught Anais attention, breaking the reciprocated twice-overs between her and Conall, a graceful arm indicating the seat next to him. “Anais, cherie, please join us. You must have been wondering why I haven’t addressed our guests yet. Before I make my announcement, I thought I’d brief you.” Despite the polite charm, Yves’ tone was firm, commanding and all business. That got her full attention. Experience told her to listen to what he said as well as to what he didn’t. “It does, after all, affect you directly and I didn’t want you to be surprised in front of our guests. It is imperative that all goes smoothly and that we show a united front.”

  Anais sat next to Yves, the lesser of the two evils, afraid that if she sat next to the witch, she’d pounce on him. Fear of what Yves wanted from her kept her attentive. Drawing deep from the tankard, she waited for the other shoe to drop.

  Yves continued, “Technology is making being a vampire, in the way we’re accustomed, progressively trickier. We risk exposure more now than ever with social networking, YouTube and media transparency.” He said the last word with a sneer, marring his beautiful face and showing it for what it was, at least in her mind. She briefly wondered if the witch picked up on it and if so, what he thought of Yves. Well, if they were chummy then it probably didn’t merit a warning signal on his radar. Yves’ statement was rhetoric so she sat waiti
ng for him to continue.

  “The same challenge is faced by other magickal beings such as our friend, Conall, and his people. I’ve lived a long time,” Yves looked at them both, “longer than most and I’ve existed so long because I’ve been willing to change when it was required. Now is another such time. It is futile to think that we can fight or ignore the technological and military advances that the humans are making. It thus makes sense that we form an alliance with other supernatural beings. Between us, the magickal community owns the economic power of the world. Economic power means political power, which is constantly being questioned by the media. We can use our collective power to influence governments and corporates to keep our secrets. I approached Conall and he was of a like mind. Witches have historically always had the short end of the stick and have been openly persecuted. Even in your New Orleans, the practitioners of Voodoo and magick have been subjected to mistreatment by those who were ignorant fools. So, it is not for power that I propose this alliance, we are already all powerful, but combined power amongst supernaturals will ensure our continued safe existence.” He paused in his well-acted speech and ran a hand over his face to accentuate his concern, “Imagine what would happen to us if humans found out of our existence and power. We’d be made into circus freaks, objects of curiosity by some. Others would hunt us down, thinking to use us and our powers for their own gain. The human military might even be pressured to use nuclear weapons to end us. I want to prevent genocide. We have the wit and the strength but alas, they have the numbers and as the adage infers, there is strength in that. We would lose our dignity, our community. Without an alliance, our future is bleak.”

  And if vampires could run for the presidential office Yves, thought Anais, you’d be a forerunner.

  Conall nodded then interjected, the seriousness of his demeanor enhancing his all-out sexiness. Anais found that she loved a man who was quietly in control. “As witches we use our magick to cloak our identity and we’ve often chosen to live in the more remote or unusual locations. But Yves is right, take Google maps, people can now zoom into most parts of the world, in real-time and see who’s walking on a street, sitting on a porch. It is only a matter of time before our identity is revealed too.”