Coffin Girls (Elegantly Undead: Book 1 of the Coffin Girls Witch Vampire Series) (11 page)

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 seemed
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.

Anais and Co. were viewing his interchange with Sue-Ann with
interest. Deciding that he’d provided enough entertainment for the night, he
took Sue-Ann’s arm, ignoring her blushes and steered her towards the
vampiresses.

“Sue-Anne, please meet my friends.” Conall waved an arm at
each of them as he conducted the introductions. V and Marie then made their
way, after the polite amount of nodding, towards Sylvain and Niul to see what
the hilarity was about. Niul and Sylvain were hooting at the ‘Ghostly Gadgets”.
His lips curved in shared appreciation at the ‘ghost detector’, a complicated
electronic contraption that looked like it required a small forklift to get it
around.

“If you’ll excuse us, Sue-Ann,” Conall gave the nervous
witch a reason to escape, “we’ll join our friends in looking through your
interesting merchandise.”

He made a further mental note to hasten the need for a
mentor for Sue-Anne, that she didn’t pick up that the ladies were vampires was
very concerning. A witch, even a learned one, needed to be able to gage other
supernaturals and to have the ability to protect herself and other witches if
required. New Orleans was crawling with many different sources of magick and
creatures and she was like a sheep amongst wolves for as long as she continued
to practice her craft as blindly as she had been.

Browsing around, Conall noted the newest tourist-luring
trap, an aphrodisiac to lure vampires ‘for the best sex of your life’. It made
him think of a particular vampire standing near to him that he wanted to have
the best sex of his life with. Anais’ gaze had followed his and she met his eye
knowingly, self-consciously.

Clearing his throat, he suggested they look for a place to
grab a drink.

Anais nodded at his suggestion. “Any idea of what you’re in
the mood for?” At his lifted brow, she blushed and swatted at him, “Not that
you one-tracked minded moron. I meant do you know what you want to drink, what
kind of place you want to go to?”

Conall grinned at her, enjoying the playful flirtation and
momentarily forgetting about their earlier tension. “I want to drink you, Anais
and I’d like to go back to your bedroom at the plantation.”

She grinned back, soaking it up, determined to keep things
light between them, “I’ll pass thanks. But as you’re incapable of shedding
light on our next stop, I think we should visit our local Quarter vampire bar.”

“There’s a vampire bar here?” Conall’s eyebrows rose
comically in surprise.

Anais shrugged nonchalantly, “Of course. There are quite a
few vampires here and we have to have a place where we can go undetected and
unwind.” She signaled to the others to join them and filled them in on the next
stop as they left Madame Mystic.

“Great idea,” concurred V. “I could use a real drink.”

Conall’s eyebrows rose again in question, “You have donors
there?” The vampiresses broke into uncontrollable laughter. He looked at Niul
and Sylvain who held mirrored expressions of confusion.

Wiping her eyes gently, mindful of her mascara, Anais
explained, “Vampires haven’t taken their meals from live donors since the
advent of blood banks. Didn’t you know that?”

“I’m afraid not. I was having visions of the three of you at
the necks of three enamored vampire groupies.” Conall looked at the paving in
embarrassment. It seemed that even he wasn’t immune to superstitions and the
rumor mill.

“Oh, God, this is too precious,” Anais bent, clutching her
stomach, as laughter took her again.

“I’m sorry for my assumption,” his lips twitched in appreciation
of his own folly. “I did try to gather information about vampires so that I had
an idea of your customs and would not unnecessarily offend you, but as witches
and vampires hardly socialize together, there are obviously glaring gaps in my
knowledge of modern vampires.”

“That’s okay,” Anais wiped some more tears away then patted
him gently on the cheek. “I thought witches had progressed from using brooms
for transport to using them to play quidditch.”