Coffin Girls (Elegantly Undead: Book 1 of the Coffin Girls Witch Vampire Series)
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Authors: Aneesa Price
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
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.
