Supernatural Seduction (Book 2 of the Coffin Girls Series)

by Supernatural Seduction (mobi)

  “Now, now my love,” 'Conall' admonished, all Irish charm. “Such language does not become you.” That just pissed her off even more – Anais wanted to rip the wagging finger off the fake fuck and stick it up his ass. No way would Conall ever patronize her like that. Using her vamp-aided speed, she grabbed her sword out of the dead 'Conall’s chest and swung it at the other. “Just fucking die, already.” The other 'Conall' laughed at her as his instantly manifested sword struck hers. Engaged in battle, Anais focused on kicking some supernatural ass. The fucker was hard to put down. For every blow she threw at him, he had a defensive move.

  Silver clashed against silver, legs moved, bodies ducked, and fur flew, as the women battled things that pretended to be their friends. The overgrown alley they’d arrived in, had since turned into a supernatural battle field, sprayed with blood, littered with rotting weeds and grass. Wild flowers that had offered a burst of color to their dreary surroundings had since been trampled or destroyed under the magickal trickery of the evil the women fought against. The sounds accompanying the call of the nocturnal birds and insects had given way to the grunt of shoves, swipes, and stabs. It was incessant, continuous, and neither indicative of victory nor defeat.

  Realizing that this was getting them nowhere, Anais feigned fatigue and deliberately slowed her movements. “Tired love?” taunted fake-Conall. “I’d be happy to put you to rest.”

  Biding her time, despite the urge to wipe the leering cockiness from the bastard’s face, Anais ignored him and continued the act of tiredness. She needed him to get cockier, to slip up.

  Next to them, Marie faced a pretense of the man she thought of as a brother in all his magnificent ten foot form of fangs and fur. The portrayal was accurate—the imposter had matched 'Raulf’s’ fur to its unique baked-bread, brown tone, his eyes to the warm chocolate she knew as well as anyone else’s. “You know, cher,” Marie chided, “you didn’t quite get 'Raulf’s’ wolf form right. You’re a little on the small side for an alpha.” Marie tsked. “A bit lazy to do your research, were you?” That seemed to piss the wolf-pretender off as he narrowed his eyes and launched at her. Marie used an arm to block him off at the throat while his enormous teeth snapped at her face. Any other creature, other than a vampire, would have been wolf-bait by then.

  “Ew,” Marie continued to taunt him, “not fond of brushing your teeth, are you?”

  The wolf continued to try and get an angle on her, in order to rip her face off. Still mouthing off to him, she used her other arm to grab the knife strapped to her hip, and plunged it as hard and fast as she could, through fur, pelt, and rib into his heart. He fell onto her, the hilt of the knife dug into her breast. It was the blunt end of it, but it would bruise like a bitch if she didn’t get him off her soon. Swearing, she took a deep breath and threw the blood-matted furred fucker off her.

  She went to help Anais, but Anais had swung her sword at fake Conall’s neck and decapitated him, one sure way to get rid of any supernatural being. “Go check on Rose and Sophie,” Anais ordered. “I’ll help V.”

  “No help needed,” V called out triumphantly, standing over the body of a dead 'Sylvain', a silver dagger protruding out of the chest, in the vicinity of his heart.

  “Well then, ladies,” Anais said, well satisfied, “let’s go check on the others.”

  “You go check on the others,” V suggested. “I’ll go have a look at that.” She nodded towards the portal that still shimmered in the middle of the alley.

  The sound of quick footsteps headed their way, stopped them in their tracks. Braced for another fight, they relaxed their grips on their weapons when Rose approached–a vibrant mass of red hair flying as she ran, vamp fast.

  “It’s not real,” Sophie sent a mental message to them. “No,” she continued to explain in response to the sardonic gazes they threw at her, “the fake guys are fake, too. They’re mind tricks. The real supes are somewhere nearby watching us. This is their game.”

  “Prove you’re Sophie and Rose,” Anais ordered.

  Sophie nodded before she sent an array of emotions and memories towards Anais. Anais glimpsed a part of Sophie’s past – one that she’d rarely shared. Nodding in acknowledgement, Anais shot Sophie a brief smile of relief, and then faced Rose. Rose quirked a brow, and then made fire dance around them all, illuminating them in perfect, concentric circles, yet not touching them in the slightest, despite the intermittent soars of the yellow flames. Rose then moved one hand over the other, said a quick incantation under her breath, and produced a perfect cocktail, or rather blood cocktail, in this instance. Rose guarded her popular blood-cocktail mixes closely. The rest of them sniffed and recognized the familiar odor of Rose’s legendary ‘vurricanes’ – a blood, hurricane cocktail mix. Despite the dreary circumstances, Anais’ lips bowed, “good to know we’re together. Sophie, are you still sensing the same emotions?”

  Just as she asked that, the thud of multiple feet hitting the ground had them all swirling around towards the end of the alley with the portal uncomfortably behind them. They were now faced with the entire bevy of girls they housed at their school for witches and weres. Only these girls wore menacing grins and carried a variety of weapons. It was a clever move by their unknown enemies because it would be a psychological hardship to have to kill the girls they’d saved and were protective of even if they were fakes.

  “Here we go again,” Marie muttered, rolling her eyes. The ladies lined up, faced the images of their charges, and prepared to battle, yet again.

  Sophie had her emotional defenses down so she could easily detect any feelings being omitted by the evil they were fighting. It also meant that she was open to feeling anything within her nearby environment, past or present. The sudden arrival of the girls had caused a surge of trepidation within her sisters. There was determination still to get rid of the evil once and for all and irritation that it just wouldn’t let up. All of that had her staggering out of the line they’d created to face their new opponents and hitting the wall of the nearby building. Anais flicked her eyes to Sophie out of concern. Sophie waved her away. “It’s alright. I just need a moment.” Sophie detected Anais’ relief and shift to determination as she again faced the approaching girls. Knowing that she was close to her vampire sisters and that her acutely sensitive hearing would pick up on an approaching enemy, Sophie closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The act offered no respite for her to gather herself as she was bombarded by the emotions of their current enemy.

  Sophie shot up from the wall. They were being watched from close-by. Their unknown enemy was playing them like plastic figurines in a little boy’s fort. “I can find the source,” she sent out to her sisters.

  “Then go,” Anais urged. “Take V with you. We’ll hold them off.”

  “No,” Sophie argued, “there are too many of them. The source is singular. It is only one. I can feel it. I think it confused me by adding feelings to its mind tricks. I’ll be able to find it and end it. Don’t kill them off too quickly. Buy me some time so that I can find it.” Anais nodded and stepped in front of Sophie. The others were already engaged in fighting the teenage girls. Sophie’s eyes widened despite the supernatural strength of the Coffin Girls, the replicas of the young girls they were fighting seemed to have assumed the girls’ powers, as well. Her sisters were momentarily thrown off, complicating the battle by giving the girls the upper-hand. They were used to thinking protectively of the girls and it was easy to forget that they were supes too with their own strengths and powers. Sophie thought sardonically, that if they got out of this alive, they’d, at least, never forget to underestimate their pupils again.

  Forcing herself to block out the noise of the ensuing fight, she focused inward, and picked out the thread of emotion that seemed to be at the core of the surrounding chaos. With a combination of enhanced sight and her empath abilities, she followed the thread to the building she’d leaned against moments ago, and up towards the fourth floor. She could make out the silhouette of a mo
tionless figure observing the fight scene below. She also felt the prickle of eyes on her. Keeping her head low and out of sight, she contemplated her next move. How the hell was she to creep up on it without alerting it to her absence, from the scene that it was surely watching?

  “Fuck it!” Sophie thought. “I’ll put my big girl thong on. I’m a frikkin’ vampire and a witch! I can move faster than any other supe, so what’s a cowardly one that hides away from the action to me? I’ll be destroying the fucker before it knows what it hit it! “And, with that determination, Sophie glanced up at the building, took a breath, and began scaling the wall. Spotting the window nearest to where the bastard was watching them from, she shook her head and decided against it. It’d expect stealth and would meet her with more mind tricks. The way to get this one was a head-on, surprise attack. So, she swung her boots at the window. Glass shattered as she flew through it. It all happened in nanoseconds. She had a moment to register that the supe was tiny! Sophie, a petite blonde, towered over its hooded form as both her feet were firmly planted on its chest. Weary of being mentally manipulated, Sophie swiftly brought her sword down and decapitated the creature. Once the head rolled away from her, she pulled in oxygen with relief, and surveyed her surroundings. The space was dark, desolate, and every surface was covered in grime, but revealed no further threats. A frisson of a portal, the real one the creature must have used, was fading as its body faded in death. Sophie watched with perfect clarity as the head transformed from that of a tiny man to a young woman, a beautiful woman with features a bit too sharp, and a bit too ethereal. But it was her aura that gave her away. A fae? Really?

  She felt her sisters approaching. Turning around to look at the rest of the Coffin Girls, she saw the shock at the dead fae reflected on their faces. She also felt their pride in her for stopping the creature, and Sophie lapped it up in quiet satisfaction.

  “Merci Sophie,” Anais thanked her. “Looks like our work here is done! Let’s go home. I think, it’s time to give Sylvain a call.”

  Chapter 2

  When they got to Papillion Plantation, Sylvain and Conall were waiting for them in the mansion’s kitchen, bearing expectant and concerned expressions. Miss Suzette was nowhere in sight within the oversized room, but the platter of beignets and pots of coffee served as evidence of her recent departure.

  They were always ragging Miss Suzette for waiting up. Her ready answer had consistently been that a mamma waits up, until all her chicks are home. As strange as it might seem for a human, albeit a Cajun Voodoo one, to be the ‘mamma’ of a bunch of female witch-vampires, Miss Suzette had earned her place as keeper of the girls' hearts and home since she took over the duties of plantation housekeeper from her mother. Miss Suzette’s family had been an integral part of the plantation’s legacy and life since Miss Suzette’s a-few times-over-great-grandmother had saved Anais from death and acted as a catalyst to her change from human to vampire. Anais’ deceased husband had been the plantation’s original owner. Anais had saved a young girl from being raped and murdered by him and she’d been repaid with loyalty and protection by the community of slaves that had worked the plantation for her bastard of a dead husband. It was friendship born from humanity and bonded by sacrifice and respect.

  “Is Miss Suzette okay? It’s not like her to go to bed before she’s seen us?” Sophie inquired, her brow knitted in confusion and concern. Grabbing a mug of milky coffee, she sat opposite Sylvain at the enormous wooden table that flanked one side of the room. Cursing her subconscious tendency to somehow always sit or stand closest to him, she looked down, avoiding that sparkling blue gaze and honey-colored manliness that had the ability to send her pulse beating unlike the undead’s. As appreciative as she was of his friendship, a relationship with their princely friend was not an option.

  “She’s out reinforcing the wards around the buildings,” offered Conall as he pulled Anais into his lap. Usually immune to it, tonight the ladies noticed the sparks that literally flew off the two royal witches where their skin touched. That tell-tale sign had been missing when the other Conall had showed up earlier. “She said that she feels evil coming.”

  “She’s trying to help,” Anais interjected. “All this new magick, this witch magick, is unknown to her. I had a chat with her the other night. Her adding her voodoo to the mix grounds her. But, I don’t think her blend of kitchen magick is going to help. Sylvain, we came across one of yours, I think. We think the supe has been the cause of the recent ‘issues’,” Anais used air quotes, “in New Orleans.”

  Sylvain nodded, “I know. I called Conall as soon as I felt it die. The odd thing is that I had no idea that it was in New Orleans. As Fae Prince, I should have felt its presence. My guess is that it has some powerful magick masking it from me.”

  “What magick could be masking it?” Rose asked.

  “I don’t know,” replied Sylvain. “I’d have to visit the scene of its death.”

  “Tell us what happened?” Conall asked Anais, his arm automatically tightening around her.

  Anais recounted the evening’s occurrences, relying on Sophie to fill in the blanks where she had not been involved. Conall’s color greyed and Sylvain’s brow knitted in thought. “I think you’re right,” Sylvain stated. “It sounds like a trap - from the odd occurrences in New Orleans to the tip off.”

  “You walked into that one,” Conall said, unhappily.

  “And came out alive and well,” Anais rebutted, her eyes flashing with irritation at her fiancé.

  “I’m not criticizing,” Conall rectified. “I knew about it too and didn’t see it coming. I should’ve gone with you.” Anais’ glare turned hot at his chivalrous statement. “Or not,” Conall replied. “Darn it, Anais. I know you’re all capable women, but I’m a sad man if I don’t give a shit about you coming to harm.”

  Anais looked contrite. “You’re right, cher. Sorry.” Then she smiled, and the message it sent placed balm over his wounded ego. The look Conall threw back at her indicated that he knew he was being manipulated by promises of sex and was entirely okay with it.

  Marie rolled her eyes at the couple, “Now that we have your domestic dramas all cleared up, perhaps Sylvain can continue?”

  Anais and Conall looked embarrassed evoking snickers from the rest. Eyes twinkling at his friend’s happy capture in the arms of betrothal, Sylvain continued with his observations. “My guess is that Ayden or the Vampire Council is behind the attack. What I don’t understand is why? They’ve been quiet, so why now?”

  “It could be to try and stop us again,” offered V. “We’ve been successful in finding and freeing a large number of captive witches. Their witch-blood supply could be running low.”

  “That could be it,” offered Sophie, “although if I were them, I would’ve tried to stop us a while back before we saved so many witches.”

  “What can we do to prevent this from happening again?” asked Anais. “And, why is one of yours involved Sylvain?” The question was not accusatory, but rather curious. Sylvain had proven himself to be a loyal friend at the possibility of his own and his faes’ detriment.

  “You are right,” Sylvain nodded his agreement. “It is fae, although, the trickster you came across is not technically mine. It is fae, but is not Seelie, which is what I am. It is Unseelie. But because it is fae, I felt its presence just before it died. The magick masking it must have been broken when you killed it, Sophie.

  “Wait,” interrupted V, “I thought you were the Prince of Fae - of all fae. What’s this about Seelie and Unseelie?”

  “Yes,” Sylvain confirmed. “And my sister is the Princess of Fae.”

  “Sister?” Anais lifted a brow. They were all surprised even Conall.

  “Yes,” Sylvain nodded. He dragged his hand through his honey-colored hair and looked at the women, and continued, “My sister is the Princess of Fae, although her rule is over the Unseelie faction. My rule is over the Seelie faction. Faction is a good word because there are politics and history�
�loads of both.” Sylvain’s expression turned grim, “We’re not exactly a united race. We were one court a few thousand years ago, but time and our nature divided us. The Seelie are mischievous and hedonistic at times, but we are ultimately good. Our magick is the purest form of fae magick and comes directly from the Goddess much like Conall’s. The Unseelie are the yang to our ying. They’re the darker side of fae and are, in essence, fallen Seelie, but not inherently evil.”

  “So, the Unseelie aren’t the bad guys, but are inclined towards things that can go bad?” Sophie inquired, confusion knitting her brow.

  “Yes,” Sylvain nodded. “In all things, there is good and bad. The fae have the Seelie as ‘good’ and the Unseelie as the ‘bad’”, he used air-quotes, “but that doesn’t mean that either is fully good or evil. That’s why it is complicated.”

  Sophie nodded. “Like humans,” she added.