BLOODLUST

by Phoenix Daniels

  “Madame Belfour?” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

  She blinked up at her with fear in her eyes. Sweat coated her skin and her breathing was labored.

  Sh-she’s insane,” Madame Belfour gasped breathlessly.

  At least her vocal cords were still working.

  Since things seemed to calm a bit, Margo’s mom pulled herself together and hurried over to help her get Madame Belfour to her feet.

  “Where did that come from?” Ruby whispered to Margo.

  “I told you!” the elder exclaimed. “She’s insane!”

  Margo glanced at Enola. She was glaring at the three of them as Gideon pulled her into his arms. Her eyes had returned to their natural color, but she appeared extremely disoriented. Her expression was remorseful.

  She stepped out of Gideon’s grasp and walked over to them. “Madame, I am so sorry,” she apologized in a whisper.

  She reached out, but Madame Belfour recoiled with fear in her eyes.

  “Stay away from me,” she hissed.

  “Nola, I didn’t sense any anger coming from you. Where did that come from?” Ruby asked.

  Enola placed her hand on her imaginary pearls and shook her head. “I don’t know. I swear. I have no idea. It’s like I blacked out. I couldn’t control myself.”

  Gideon turned her around and cupped her face in his large hands. “Sweetheart, what do mean, you couldn’t control yourself?”

  “I mean... I knew what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

  Madame Belfour broke free and moved closer to Enola. She pulled her away from Gideon and spun her around by the shoulders. She looked Enola in the eye and asked, “What do you remember?”

  There was an urgency in her raspy voice. Enola closed her eyes as if trying to remember. Seconds later, her lids flew open.

  “There was chanting,” she blurted.

  “Chanting?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t understand the language.”

  “Do you remember the chant?” Madame Belfour asked urgently.

  Enola shook her head. “Um-mm. But when it started, it seemed far away, like something muffled it. Then, it got louder.”

  Margo looked on with shock as Madame Belfour rubbed Enola’s body as if patting her down. When she got to the pocket of her dress, she reached inside and pulled something out. Margo moved closer to see what it was. The elder held up something wrapped in a mesh cloth with a thin string tied around it. Margo couldn’t see what was inside. From the way Enola reacted to the find, she had no idea what it was, or where it came from.

  “A hex bag?” Ruby marveled.

  “A hex bag?” Enola questioned.

  “Witches!” Madame Belfour spat. Her face twisted with disgust. She dug into her purse and pulled out a lighter. After lighting the bag on fire, she tossed it to the ground.

  “The blonde chick,” Margo realized out loud.

  Enola sighed and looked over at Gideon. Most likely wishing that she could return to the big city.

  “We’re already late. We have to go in,” Enola stressed. “Madame, can you come by the house after the meeting?”

  “Yes. I’ll be by.”

  Enola smiled. “Thank you. And... I am very sorry.”

  “I know,” the older woman said, gesturing to the hotel entrance. “Shall we?”

  Gideon placed his hand on Enola’s back and led the way. Margo yawned and followed everyone inside.

  Damn, she was tired.

  In the elegant lobby, a woman that Gideon referred to as Glenda met them. She led them through the lobby and down a long hall to a meeting room. As soon as they crossed the threshold, the room became so silent that one could hear a rabbit pissing on cotton. The men rose to their feet as they walked aside the long conference table. Supposedly, the room was filled with supernatural beings from all over Louisiana and some bordering states. Gideon, Gabriel, and Alvin helped them to their chairs before claiming their seats. Gideon took his seat at the head of the table, with Gabriel and Alvin flanking him on both sides. Each species sat with its kind. There were representatives from every faction. And to Margo’s surprise, there were even two priests, present as mediators and representatives of the Catholic Church.

  Margo looked around the table shared with wolves, witches, vampires, and clergymen. The wolves she knew, but between the vampires and the witches, she couldn’t tell who was who. She placed her handbag on the table next to the notepad that had been placed in front of her. She was still scanning the room discretely behind her sunglasses when her eyes landed on a set of broad shoulders, attached to the big body sitting directly across from her.

  Margo slid the shades down her nose to get a better look. Whoever he was, he was beautiful, with thick blond hair and a matching full beard. His eyes sparkled, a sea-colored blue, and his lips were plump and inviting. She lowered her gaze to his prominent pecs and imagined him minus the expensive-looking suit. When she allowed her eyes to return to his, his blue gaze was fixated on her.

  Margo didn’t flinch when she realized he’d caught her checking him out.

  They locked eyes. The intensity in his stare elicited a trembling breath. She was grateful that she was already sitting because the man was knee-buckling fine.

  Who was he?

  Chapter Two

  BISHOP

  Bishop leaned closer to his attendant and asked, “What is the holdup?”

  “We are waiting for the priestess, Maître,” Basile whispered. “And the wolves.”

  Bishop scratched his beard, not because it itched, but because it calmed him. He was rapidly losing his patience, becoming more agitated by every minute wasted on the tardy.

  Bishop Delacroix was a French-born vampire and an active participant in the original colonization of Louisiana. Many years ago, he had walked the land that would eventually be called La Nouvelle-Orléans, or New Orleans, as referred to by the Americans. After the colonization was complete, he returned to his beloved Calais, never returning to the colony again. But thanks to the incompetence of Gerard Sonnier, the deceased vampire regent of Louisiana, Bishop was sitting at a conference table, attempting to clean up a mess that he hadn’t created.

  Gerard’s alliance with the witches was foolish. Offering the coven’s help with their petty squabbles with the Voodoo tribe proved disastrous. As regent, he should have known better. Now, it was Bishop’s duty to put the coven back together and appoint a new regent.

  “If punctuality wasn’t a must, we could have met with the coven first,” Bishop grumbled.

  Basile nodded in agreement.

  Basile Duval was what Americans would refer to as his right-hand man. If Bishop wasn’t so selfish, he would appoint him the position of regent of the Louisiana coven. He was competent enough, but it was his competence that Bishop relied on.

  “If this meeting doesn’t start in –”

  His ire was interrupted when several black women, escorted by wolves, entered the boardroom. The curves of one had rendered him speechless. She was wearing black shorts that hugged the curve of her hips and revealed long, shapely brown legs.

  “I’m sorry, Master. What were you saying?” Basile quipped.

  Bishop chuckled at the facetiousness of his comment. As luck would have it, they escorted the woman to the seat directly across from him. She was wearing dark sunglasses, so he couldn’t see her eyes, but everything that he could see was alluring. Her plump, red lips had him daydreaming about tasting her blood. She had African locs that hung long from a high ponytail, and her penny-colored complexion was flawless. Her outfit may not have been appropriate for a council meeting, but it allowed Bishop a perfect view of her cleavage.

  Wanting to see her eyes, Bishop strained to see through the dark lenses. As if reading his mind, the woman reached up and lowered her lenses just enough for him to see big, beautiful eyes that were almost golden; a color that she and two other women at the table had in common. They were definitely Roux, from the Moreau line. If the eyes were the windows
to the soul, in theirs, he saw their ancestors. More specifically, Auriette Moreau.

  The Roux woman continued to stare unabashedly, almost as if challenging him to look away first. Bishop was content with eye-fucking her throughout the entire meeting. But, unfortunately, someone called his name.

  “Monsieur Delacroix?”

  A bored sigh escaped before Bishop could prevent it. Reluctantly, he turned from the Roux woman sitting across from him and searched for the disruption.

  It was the priest.

  Had he been a woman, he would have rolled his eyes. Bishop had little respect for clergy. He was old enough to witness the murderous campaigns excused by their so-called belief in their own divinity.

  “Monsieur Delacroix, we were just doing introductions. Would you like to introduce yourself?”

  Bishop scratched his beard again while looking at the priest as if he’d lost his senses. Basile dropped his head and chuckled softly.

  “Monsieur?”

  “No, priest. I do not wish to introduce myself. I am the oldest person in this room. Therefore, if there is someone here that doesn’t know who I am, they shouldn’t be here.”

  The priest swallowed hard. His face awash with embarrassment.

  “I will introduce myself,” came from across the table, rescuing the cleric.

  It was the Roux woman with the thick, curly hair.

  “I’m Enola Roux-Toussaint, the sovereign of the Moreau Tribe of Voodoo practitioners, and the mate and wife of the Louisiana Pack Alpha. Out of goodwill, and our desire for peace, we are here. However, since I’m new here, I will risk asking a stupid question. Why should my family and I sit at a table with witches, vampires, and... priests?” She narrowed her fiery, golden eyes at the priest.

  “For generations, our kind has been under attack from the same witch- slash- priest, with the aid of vampires. Know this... from now on, the trajectory of this fight will change drastically. If attacked again, we will settle for nothing less than our enemy’s annihilation.”

  Enola Roux was the one rumored to be a phoenix. Bishop could see tiny flames flickering in her eyes. In all his years, he’d never encountered a phoenix. Admittedly, he was curious. He’d been told that she could transform into a giant bird of fire with a wingspan of six feet. He suspected that it was a remarkable sight to see, almost as remarkable as the sight of her kin’s captivating beauty. Bishop’s mind was made up. He wouldn’t be leaving Louisiana without taking a bite out of the Roux woman.

  Chapter Three

  ENOLA

  Almost two hours later, Enola and her family were walking out of the conference room with the guarantee of a truce. She wasn’t sure whether to believe the leaders of the other factions. Time would tell. However, she was sure that if any of them violated the truce and attacked her family again, all hell was gonna break loose.

  Vendettas had been settled with the death of their enemies. Hopefully, no other magical or supernatural beings were holding any more ancient grudges. When they entered the lobby, Gideon placed a hand on her shoulder, slowing her steps.

  “Are you hungry, darlin’?” His deep baritone and sexy southern drawl still gave her chills.

  “I could eat.” Margo blurted out and answered for her.

  “Why don’t y’all go on in the restaurant and get a bite? I’ll meet you there in a minute.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to order for you?” Enola asked.

  “Yeah, a porterhouse, rare.”

  “Damn! It’s still breakfast time!” Margo exclaimed.

  Gideon shrugged. “So, throw in a couple of eggs over medium. Please, order the same for Gabriel.”

  “Okay, babe,” Enola agreed.

  She turned to Madame Belfour, “Would you like to join us for brunch?”

  “No, I can’t. I have some stops to make before coming to your house. But you ladies enjoy.”

  Enola nodded. “See you later.”

  As soon as she walked away, Margo grabbed Enola by the arm and pulled her toward the restaurant.

  “Why did you invite that woman to eat with us? She is so mean.”

  “Margo, we need that woman. We need to connect with the entire community. Gran cultivated those relationships, but they don’t know me.”

  They walked up to the hostess station and were greeted by the hostess, Ursula, and her pleasant smile.

  “Hello, Mrs. Toussaint. How many in your party?”

  “Five, maybe six. I’m not sure if Boone is joining us. How are you, Ursula?”

  “Good, ma’am. Fantastic.” She grabbed a few menus and stepped from behind the station. “Follow me, please.”

  She led them to Gideon’s private table. When they sat, she handed each of them a menu.

  “Mable will be back to take your order. Please enjoy your brunch, ladies.”

  She smiled, and Enola smiled in return. But her smile fell as soon as she heard the hostess’s voice without her having moved her lips. Enola squinted, staring at the woman. Maybe she’d imagined it. Hearing thoughts wasn’t one of her abilities.

  ‘She better not fuck-up and let me get back in his bed.’

  Nope, she hadn’t imagined it at all.

  She was hearing Ursula’s thoughts. Even as she walked away, Enola could hear the lustful reminiscence of a woman that had slept with her husband. She stared at the woman’s back until she was out of sight, then shook her head as if she could shake out the voices.

  “Are you okay? What’s wrong with you?” Margo asked.

  ‘Oh, my... It’s happening,’ came from Ruby.

  Enola whipped around to Ruby and grabbed her wrist. “What’s happening?”

  ‘Apologize already, asshole,’ came from the right.

  ‘I’m gonna be so late,’ came from the left.

  ‘Damn, what is her name? Geesh, I can’t remember.’

  ‘Gotta call Alex and tell him to pick up the kids.’

  The voices that invaded her head were overwhelming. She covered her ears as if that would stop the noise, but they were getting louder, with one voice overlapping the other.

  “What’s happening to me?” Enola questioned out loud.

  It seemed Ruby was attempting to explain, but the only thing Enola could hear was the jumble of voices. She jumped up from her seat and bumped into a busboy, knocking a bin full of dishes out of his hands.

  “I-I’m sorry.”

  Enola fled frantically from the restaurant in search of Gideon. She couldn’t take the chatter in her mind. All she could think of was going home and barricading herself in her room. She couldn’t find her husband, but she ran into Glenda, his assistant. She walked over and clutched Enola’s upper arms. She felt more hands on her and assumed it was her family.

  “Mrs. Toussaint, are you okay?”

  ‘Oh, God, what’s happening?’

  Her voice was faint, but Enola could make out what she was saying over the noise.

  “Gideon... I need Gideon.”

  As soon as his name fell from her lips, he appeared. Noticing her distress, Gideon ran over and pulled her to his chest.

  “What is it, darlin’? What’s wrong?”

  His words rumbled in his chest, but she could barely hear him. The voices were deafening.

  “Take me home. Please, take me home,” she pleaded desperately.

  Gideon looked past her to Ruby. Enola could see the confusion in his eyes, but her head was splitting. She had to get out of there.

  “Gideon! Please!”

  Thankfully, he tucked her protectively under his arm and led her out of the hotel. Once they were outside, the telepathic noise of the busy French Quarter nearly crippled her. The loud thoughts of hundreds of tourists were practically beating her over the head.

  Gideon helped her into the SUV and closed the door which, thankfully, silenced some voices. Soon, Ruby and Margo were being hustled into the SUV. Gideon had a quick word with Glenda before climbing into the driver’s seat.

  “What happened, sweetheart?” he as
ked.

  Enola clutched her head.

  “Just drive, please.”

  Chapter Four

  MARGO

  “Good evening, Madame Belfour. Madame LaRue, Madame Bennett. Won’t you come in?” Margo greeted the older priestesses in the nicest possible way.

  “Marguerite,” Madame Belfour greeted dryly before walking past her.

  Margo rolled her eyes and closed the door. The woman was rude for no damn reason.

  “Follow me,” she muttered, leading the ladies to the parlor.

  When they stepped inside, Margo went straight to the bar.

  “Welcome, ladies. Can I get you anything?” her mother offered.

  “Where is Enola?”

  “She’s not feeling well, Madame, but you knew that,” her mother responded.

  “I know nothing!” the old lady snapped. “I don’t know what that mess at the hotel was all about, but I do know that she ain’t been here that long, and I have already had just about enough of all y’all!”

  Margo’s eyes snapped up from the bottle of Grey Goose she was pouring from and landed on the cranky old lady.

  “Hold on, lady. Who the f-?”

  “Marguerite, that is enough!” Ruby warned.

  “Ugh... this lady,” Margo grumbled.

  Her mom threw her hand up, silencing her. She turned to Madame Belfour and pointed toward the hall.

  “Get out!”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said, get out. Do you think you can come into our house and speak to us like that? The depth of your disrespect is remarkable. You and I both know you would have never spoken to my mother like that. So, until you learn some manners, you are not welcome here.”

  The old lady pursed her lips and turned to leave. Before she exited the parlor, she looked back and noticed that Madame Bennett and Madame LaRue weren’t following.

  “Martha, Elenore, what are you doing?”

  “What we came here to do,” Elenore Bennett quipped. “We weren’t rude to our hostesses.”