Read Online Coffin Girls (Elegantly Undead: Book 1 of the Coffin Girls Witch Vampire Series) by Aneesa Price - Free Book Online
Authors: Aneesa Price
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late husband’s family plantation. He was an
only child and they didn’t have any kids so Anais fully inherited it.”
Anais chirped in from across the table. Conall was sitting
next to her and she’d decided that entering enthusiastically into the conversation
would prove as best a distraction as she could come up with. The next time
she’d have to enlist her friends’ help to ensure that the seating arrangements
were not repeated.
“I don’t fully own it anymore.” Anais waved an arm at the
rest of her friends. “It’s ours. When I inherited it, Marie and Veronique moved
in – they’d been widowed during the civil war; their husbands were the owners
of nearby plantations. It was the time of the battle and riot. Between the
soldiers and the slaves, nothing much was left of their homes. I’d already set
the slaves here free. In return, they protected the land and it remained
largely unscathed. I’d earned, not enforced, their loyalty. Miss Suzette’s
wards helped reinforce the protection.” Anais took a sip of milky coffee,
relishing the how the warmth pushed away the cold of the memories as it slid
down her throat. “We eventually sold off the land of the other two plantations
and used the money to fund and maintain various business ventures over the
decades. Currently, we’re wedding and event coordinators at Papillion with the
houses in the Garden District and The Quarter serving as additional venues.”
“Did you inherit the houses in town too?” Niul, the business
mind behind the O’Leary Empire, enquired. He was serious and introverted in
nature but when he did speak his voice was as authoritative as his build was
brawny.
“Yes. Veronique’s plantation was the most damaged and she’d
been living in the Garden District. The house in the quarter was the town house
Jean, my late husband, and I used when he had to conduct business in New
Orleans.” Her smile was poignant. “Traveling between Papillion and New Orleans
wasn’t as easy back then with dirt roads, robbery and horses.”
Intrigued, Conall probed, “I heard you’re French originally
and from the same town. How did three friends from across the globe land up in
one place and all as vampires?”
“We were casket girls.” Veronique offered, adding some of
Marie’s signature dressing to the salad heaped on her plate.
“Ah, so the legend of the ‘coffin girls’ is true then – you
were French immigrant vampires?” Sylvain enquired.
“No, we were turned after we arrived here and the ‘coffin
girls’ you’re referring to is relevant to our late mothers-in-law.”
“I see you didn’t have time to Google, Niul.” Conall noted.
“The casquette girls or coffin girls came over from France during the early
French colonial days. They were so called because of the wooden caskets they
brought over, containing church-given trousseau, hence the term. The locals,
according to Google,” He looked at his bevy of hosts lest he offend, “were
naturally superstitious and tales of vampires in these wooden coffin-like
chests abound.”
Anais looked at men around the table. Her nerves were fraught
– desire to jump Conall battled suspicion and urged her to bring the evening to
an end. The feeling from the wedding the day before had also begun sneaking
more and more into her, like a flippin’ parasite. “You’ll be staying in the
original slave cottages. They’ve been completed refurbished into luxury
accommodation. We use it for antsy brides that want to stay over before the
wedding. It is close enough that we’re right here if you need anything and far
enough to give you privacy.”
“Of course, we’d have loved to have you stay in the main
house but we’re kind of full up.” She swallowed down the beignet with sweet,
milky coffee. “We all live here.”
“And Raulf,” added Miss Suzette, time to stir the pot again.
Nothing like a bit of jealousy to add spice to the pot.
“Raulf?” Niul quizzed.
“My nephew -
only child and they didn’t have any kids so Anais fully inherited it.”
Anais chirped in from across the table. Conall was sitting
next to her and she’d decided that entering enthusiastically into the conversation
would prove as best a distraction as she could come up with. The next time
she’d have to enlist her friends’ help to ensure that the seating arrangements
were not repeated.
“I don’t fully own it anymore.” Anais waved an arm at the
rest of her friends. “It’s ours. When I inherited it, Marie and Veronique moved
in – they’d been widowed during the civil war; their husbands were the owners
of nearby plantations. It was the time of the battle and riot. Between the
soldiers and the slaves, nothing much was left of their homes. I’d already set
the slaves here free. In return, they protected the land and it remained
largely unscathed. I’d earned, not enforced, their loyalty. Miss Suzette’s
wards helped reinforce the protection.” Anais took a sip of milky coffee,
relishing the how the warmth pushed away the cold of the memories as it slid
down her throat. “We eventually sold off the land of the other two plantations
and used the money to fund and maintain various business ventures over the
decades. Currently, we’re wedding and event coordinators at Papillion with the
houses in the Garden District and The Quarter serving as additional venues.”
“Did you inherit the houses in town too?” Niul, the business
mind behind the O’Leary Empire, enquired. He was serious and introverted in
nature but when he did speak his voice was as authoritative as his build was
brawny.
“Yes. Veronique’s plantation was the most damaged and she’d
been living in the Garden District. The house in the quarter was the town house
Jean, my late husband, and I used when he had to conduct business in New
Orleans.” Her smile was poignant. “Traveling between Papillion and New Orleans
wasn’t as easy back then with dirt roads, robbery and horses.”
Intrigued, Conall probed, “I heard you’re French originally
and from the same town. How did three friends from across the globe land up in
one place and all as vampires?”
“We were casket girls.” Veronique offered, adding some of
Marie’s signature dressing to the salad heaped on her plate.
“Ah, so the legend of the ‘coffin girls’ is true then – you
were French immigrant vampires?” Sylvain enquired.
“No, we were turned after we arrived here and the ‘coffin
girls’ you’re referring to is relevant to our late mothers-in-law.”
“I see you didn’t have time to Google, Niul.” Conall noted.
“The casquette girls or coffin girls came over from France during the early
French colonial days. They were so called because of the wooden caskets they
brought over, containing church-given trousseau, hence the term. The locals,
according to Google,” He looked at his bevy of hosts lest he offend, “were
naturally superstitious and tales of vampires in these wooden coffin-like
chests abound.”
Anais looked at men around the table. Her nerves were fraught
– desire to jump Conall battled suspicion and urged her to bring the evening to
an end. The feeling from the wedding the day before had also begun sneaking
more and more into her, like a flippin’ parasite. “You’ll be staying in the
original slave cottages. They’ve been completed refurbished into luxury
accommodation. We use it for antsy brides that want to stay over before the
wedding. It is close enough that we’re right here if you need anything and far
enough to give you privacy.”
“Of course, we’d have loved to have you stay in the main
house but we’re kind of full up.” She swallowed down the beignet with sweet,
milky coffee. “We all live here.”
“And Raulf,” added Miss Suzette, time to stir the pot again.
Nothing like a bit of jealousy to add spice to the pot.
“Raulf?” Niul quizzed.
“My nephew -
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