Supernatural Seduction (Book 2 of the Coffin Girls Series) (3 page)

“
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.”

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.

“Yes,” affirmed Sylvain.

“So, what happened to you and your sister?”
Marie, ever-inquisitive and tactless, inquired.

Sylvain’s perfectly full lips turned
downwards, “That’s another story and a personal one. However, the
fae’s two fractions were divided, because they just couldn’t
co-exist. The Seelie are fastidious about the code we live by - one
of honor, love, beauty, and responsibility. The Unseelie have no
code, little honor. It seemed better to part ways. So, my sister
rules the Unseelie in another realm and I rule the fae in our
original realm and on earth.”

Sophie could detect Sylvain’s discomfort. It
was a change from his usual charming and humorous demeanor. The
others were readying to probe into the nature of his relationship
with his sister, but sensing that that was all Sylvain was going to
share with them on the topic, Sophie changed the subject. “The
trickster…” she probed, “What is it? Are there more?”

Sylvain shot her a look of gratified relief.
“Tricksters operate alone,” Sylvain stated. “So, if you’ve killed
it, then that should take care of the problem. How did you kill it,
Sophie?”

“The fail-safe way,” replied Sophie.

“Good,” nodded Sylvain, “de-capitation is the
one thing that kills us all.” He gave her a quick once-over. She
looked tired, not just physically, as she was bound to be after
battling a trickster, but emotionally worn out, too.

“You used your empath skills to figure it
out?” he asked. Sophie’s head bobbed in agreement, as she sipped
from her mug.

Sylvain got up and obtained bags of blood
from their dedicated ‘blood fridge’. Marie got up to help, but he
waved her back. “I’ll get this. Before we chat, you’ll drink. No
offense ladies, you are your usual beautiful selves, but the energy
in this room is on low. Sophie, you in particular feel drained
tonight. Mentally and emotionally beating a trickster can do that
to the best of us.”

He placed a tray of mugs filled with blood
he’d warmed in the microwave on the table and ordered them to drink
up, acknowledging the nod of thanks from Conall with one of his
own. The witch prince had felt the low energy levels too. “Now,
drink while I arrange for the place to be cleaned up,” Sylvain
encouraged. He took a mobile out of his pants pocket and began
texting out a message.

Anais waved a hand, dismissively, “No need.
We’ve already taken care of it.”

Sylvain nodded his thanks, “I’ll send a crew
over then to scan for the type of magick used by the trickster.
That’ll give us a clue as to who else might be involved and
hopefully give me a start on investigating how the Unseelie was
roped into serving another magickal being. The Unseelie are
arrogant…” At the lifted brows, he grinned. “Yes, they’re more
arrogant than the Seelie.” They all grinned with him as they drank.
They all might be powerful, supernatural beings, but the trust and
friendship they'd forged allowed for the removal of pretense and
hot-headedness. “As I was saying, the Unseelie are not the type to
beholden themselves to others. That someone was able to get a
trickster to do so is a puzzle.” He sent the text to his fae army
to scope out the scene, and then waited for them to finish their
drinks. Sylvain watched the Coffin Girls’ eyes turn scarlet with
satisfaction while they drank their blood cups. And damn! Sophie
was looking at him like a big, fat steak. He wasn’t even sure that
she knew she was doing it. Of the girls, she was always the least
receptive to his flirting. But for a look like that he would gladly
let her take a bite anyway on his anatomy. Unspoken lust lingered
between them as their gazes locked. Sylvain felt pulled towards
her, towards those eyes, and wished that he could see them turn
scarlet for him as he held her beneath him and moved her to climax.
He felt himself harden and swallowed. Reaching for the bourbon that
flanked the carafe, he poured himself a finger, then two, and
gulped the whiskey down.

“Fed,” Marie plunked her empty glass on the
table, “now spill. Tricksters…” she probed, waving her hands for
him to continue.

Thankful for the distraction from his less
than honorable thoughts of Sophie, he delved into it. “Tricksters
hold the power to mentally and emotionally manipulate others into
believing the illusions they create. They pull snippets of memory
from you and craft illusions from that. They thrive on creating
chaos. It is what they draw power from. Unfortunately, they have a
tendency to go too far in their games. They are fae, but they are
Unseelie fae, which means that they have a tendency towards
malevolence.”

“So, this thing is evil and belongs to your
sister?” V sought clarification and then continued her question
with, “This ying-yang business is not very clear, is it?”

“No, it’s not” Sylvain shook his head. “And
no, they’re not, again inherently, evil—just mean. It is the core
of their nature to be malicious, to draw all creatures, especially
humans, to their deaths. The trickster sensed your powers so it
used them first to confuse you. She then presented you with what
you loved or treasured.” Sylvain’s face took on an impish
expression, “As I was one of the illusions, I’m glad to see I count
amongst your loved ones.”

Rose cuffed the back of his head, which he
rubbed while maintaining the pleased smirk. “Okay, back to the
explanation. Tricksters win when you fall for their tricks. It
sounds like each of you has enough faith in us,” he waved a hand at
himself and Conall, “that you could identify the illusions as
false. Had you not, I fear, you wouldn’t be here. Tricksters see it
as their warped moral obligation to test your faith, be it religion
or relationships.”

Sophie interjected, “So, if the parents of
the frightened kids had sent them back to their beds, the
illusionary boogie man would’ve scared them to death?”

“Not necessarily,” replied Sylvain. “Maybe
just alter their beliefs enough that they felt that they can’t be
safe in their homes, and therefore, also influencing their future
psychological well-being. Like the party-goers, they’ve been taught
a lesson by having to spend some time in jail. The man who saw
blood dripping throughout his home must have had a crisis in his
faith and believed in the evil he was seeing over the good of his
religion so now he’s in a mental asylum. The woman who had little
faith in her husband’s fidelity and believed that he was a
changeling has suffered the consequences too.”

“And our test was not about how we felt about
you,” Sophie said contemplatively, looking at Sylvain and Conall,
“but about our alliance with you—our belief that we are each in
this together.”