House of Cards

by Waters, Ilana

  “Excellent idea, Master.” Lucas stood up from his chair, a bit too quickly. “I’ll take her back to her room, and then we’ll retire until dusk tomorrow. Good night, all.”

  There were several murmurs of “Goodnight, Lucas” from the group, and even one “Goodnight, Sherry” from the Master. She hurried out of the Great Hall with her companion as quickly as she could.

  ***

  As they walked back together, Sherry found the courage to ask Lucas more about vampires.

  “So, you guys need to sleep too, huh? Just like regular people?”

  Lucas looked thoughtful. “Well, not exactly. When dawn comes, a sort of spell overtakes us. We grow too weak and tired to do almost anything but sleep. When the sunlight begins to fade, we become ‘more alive,’ as you might call it. It is important that we be in our beds at dawn, however: it is at that time when the death-sleep is most strong, and we are vulnerable to mortals who might wish to destroy us. Needless to say, our private quarters here are under lock and key, too heavy and complicated for even the strongest or most clever mortal to undo.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t going to do anything to you!” Damn, thought Sherry. There went one potential plan. In a way, though, she was a little grateful that killing them in the daytime wasn’t an option. It made her skin crawl to think of harming someone, even those who were evil. She especially didn’t want to hurt Lucas. She’d rather just escape quietly and leave with her life.

  Lucas looked at her apologetically. “I did not mean to imply such a thing. You are not someone who wishes to cause pain.”

  Flustered, Sherry looked away. How did he know this about her? Could he read her mind?

  “What other fun facts can you tell me about vampires?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Are you allowed to tell me?”

  “I don’t see why not. We’re generally not supposed to let mortals know that we exist, but since you’re already here, it seems futile to hide anything from you. What would you like to know?”

  “Well, what kind of beds do you sleep in, for instance? Do you really have to stay in coffins?”

  Lucas smiled and shook his head. “Some vampires do, but it’s really more to keep out the annoying sunlight than any metaphysical necessity. Since such light can never penetrate the catacombs, most of us elect to sleep in more comfortable beds. I know I do.”

  “Are you all incredibly strong?”

  “Stronger than all the professional body-builders of the world combined. Faster, and with keener senses too.”

  “Wow. Ooh—what about turning into smoke and going through keyholes?”

  “The only way we’re going to fit through keyholes is if we’re burned to death by fire. I suppose you could stick our ashes through a keyhole then. If you’re looking for ways to kill us, decapitation also works quite well.”

  “So a stake through the heart wouldn’t kill you?”

  “Not as much as it would piss us off.”

  There was a slight pause in the conversation.

  “I’m sorry. That was very rude of me.” Lucas looked ashamed.

  “Not at all. It was nice to hear you speak like a normal person for once.”

  She thought she saw him give a little grin. Instantly, he looked a hundred times more handsome than before. A brief image flashed through her mind, of planting a long, hard kiss on that smiling mouth. Get a grip, Sherry, she told herself. No vampire boyfriends!

  “Er, so, crucifixes and garlic have no effect on you?”

  “I wouldn’t say garlic has no effect. The odor tends to repulse both vampires and humans.”

  Sherry groaned. “You know that’s not what I meant. Can you at least fly?”

  “Yes, and if I were a superhero, I’d leap tall buildings in a single bound. As long as they had beautiful maidens at the top that I could rescue and spirit away, such as yourself.”

  His last comment made her blush. It was a good thing he couldn’t read her mind just then, or he’d—

  “Wait a minute. Lucas, can vampires tell what a person is thinking?”

  He looked at her slyly. “Some can, like our Master. But not to worry. I put a block on your thoughts while we were in the square so that no one else, mortal or vampire, would be able to read them.”

  “You’ve been messing with my brain structure? That’s eerie.”

  “I can take it off, if you like.”

  “Ah, no, let’s keep it like this. I like it when my thoughts are my own.”

  “I feel the same way about my own thoughts.” Their eyes met and they smiled at one another, just for a moment. A warm, spreading feeling filled Sherry’s chest. It almost felt like the gong being struck again, but slower, softer this time.

  “Won’t the Master be mad that you put a block on mine?”

  Lucas shook his head. “He doesn’t know it was I who did it. The thoughts of certain mortals are impossible to read, for reasons unknown even to us. He will simply assume you are one of them.”

  Sherry wished her thoughts really had been impossible to read, at least at first. She blushed to think of what Lucas might have seen in her mind before he put the block on. “Lucas, can you still—”

  “No. The block prevents all vampires from reading your thoughts. Including myself. I assumed you’d want your privacy.”

  “Well, you assumed correctly,” she said brightly. “And again, thanks. Oh, before I forget, thank you also for the clothes. I assumed it was you who brought them?” Lucas nodded. “But I must ask, how did you get into my room? The door was locked from the inside.”

  Lucas smiled a secret kind of smile. “Most vampires can move things with their minds. It’s called telekinesis. You saw it earlier when the cards moved across the table, seemingly of their own accord. I assumed that the clothes you were wearing would be soiled from being worn all day. But I didn’t want to startle you by bringing in new ones. I also assumed you would lock the door, so I used my powers to lift the latch, deposit your new items, and put the latch back when I left. I only asked you to open the door when I brought in your supper because I thought it might shock you to see a latch moving on its own, without an explanation first. I hope what I did was all right.”

  Sherry was tempted to tell him exactly how she already knew about telekinesis, but said nothing. She’d wait for another time. No need to give everything away all at once.

  “Yes, that’s fine. It’s very nice of you. But tell me, what’s the point of having a door that locks from the inside if you can open it from the outside?”

  Lucas shrugged. “Appearances. And perhaps to remind people to knock. I can have your old things cleaned for you, if you wish.”

  “It’s okay,” Sherry said. “I’ll just wear the ones you brought me, thanks.” They were much better-suited to the cooler climate down here.

  “You are quite welcome. Was the meal to your liking? My apologies if it was not. I may have been too hasty in my selection of the appropriate foods. It occurred to me later you might have special dietary restrictions. Or that you might be a vegetarian.”

  Heaven’s sakes, he was being so nice to her. She hoped that didn’t mean he felt remorseful because they were planning to kill her shortly.

  “No, no, I don’t have any special . . . restrictions. I mean, I’d like to be a vegetarian, but I just never got around to making the commitment. One time I thought I might be lactose intolerant, but I think I just drank some milk that went bad.”

  Shut up, Sherry! Why had she said something so idiotic to him? She quickly changed the subject.

  “So, um, you don’t seem to have electricity, but you have indoor plumbing?”

  “The catacombs run adjacent to the sewer lines. It wasn’t hard for us to tap into them.”

  “What do you do for refrigeration? You know, in case you
want to save some foo—”

  She stopped and looked up at him slowly.

  “You really don’t eat, do you?”

  Lucas shook his head. “Not the way your kind does. But don’t worry,” he added quickly, “with the colder temperatures, it’s easy to keep food from spoiling down here. Although we try to keep the rooms quite warm, there are other, deeper places in the catacombs where frost will form on goods if you’re not careful. We’ll keep your provisions there.”

  Sherry wasn’t crazy about her food potentially sharing the same space with a bunch of dead bodies, but said nothing. The longer they supplied her with food, the more time she had to escape death at their hands.

  “So what about electricity? Don’t you guys want to have a reliable light source down here?”

  “I think you’ll find candlelight even more reliable than electricity. People of our age are used to it. Most of us were born far before the advent of the latter, anyway. And breaching the city’s power grid for our own supply would have attracted too much attention. It would have given away the location of our home, unlike tapping into the pipes, which were already close by.”

  His answers, although satisfying to an extent, only seemed to raise more questions in her mind. She only hoped she didn’t seem rude by asking them.

  “Just out of curiosity, why do you even have a bathroom, let alone such a nice one? It’s not like you . . . have a need to use it or anything. Do you?”

  He looked gently at her. “We keep it for our . . . guests, Sherry.”

  “Guests?”

  “Mortals. Like you. Whose company we enjoy every once in a while, until . . .”

  “Until? Oh, I get it. Until.”

  “Precisely. But I’m going to try my hardest to make sure you don’t have to worry about that for a long, long time.”

  “I appreciate it. But why such a nice lavatory for someone . . . for someone you’re only going to kill anyway?”

  She thought she saw Lucas’s lips tighten ever so slightly.

  “Master likes to do things . . . properly. I think he enjoys pretending he’s a gracious lord in some far-off manor, unfailingly generous to all who enter. I’m surprised he didn’t offer you a last meal when you first met him. He must have been very hungry.”

  Sherry didn’t ask how he’d managed to satisfy his hunger without her. She’d rather not know.

  “Why is it called the House of Cadamon? Is that the Master’s last name?”

  “No. No one knows where it came from. I suspect that it is the name of a royal family whose members he killed. But that is only a hypothesis—I have no proof. And it hardly matters anyway.”

  “Oh. I thought maybe someone here had been involved in the spice trade. ‘Cadamon’ sounds a lot like ‘cardamom.’ In psychic circles, it’s used for luck and love.”

  “What about medicinal uses?”

  “Oh, um, digestive disorders, mostly.”

  “Hmmm.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Slightly less than romantic.”

  “Definitely,” she chuckled.

  They walked a few more steps, and Lucas cleared his throat.

  “I meant what I said, you know.”

  “Pardon?”

  “About your gifts as a tarot reader. I must admit, I was quite in awe of you after my reading in la place.”

  “You were?” This was news to Sherry; he’d seemed so reluctant to have his fortune told. She’d practically had to drag him to the stand.

  “While it’s true that others might be faking their talents, I have no doubt of your abilities, or that you speak whatever truth you discern from those cards. It’s quite a remarkable skill, in addition to your honest rendering of it.”

  Sherry blushed. “Oh, it’s nothing, really.” She didn’t want to seem arrogant. “Anyone could do it. With enough practice and commitment. And intuition.”

  “I couldn’t. The Master couldn’t. None of my associates here can. You should be proud of it.”

  “Thank you. I guess I am kind of proud.” she admitted. It surprised her that a vampire would value her in any way at all. He must be centuries older, judging by the style of his hair, at the very least. She naturally assumed his wisdom and experience would be greater than hers. But Sherry knew she was intelligent, a quick study. Whatever she needed to learn to be his intellectual equal, she felt confident she could do it if given the chance. If.

  But there was no time to think about that now. They’d arrived at her door.

  “Well, I’ll leave you for the night then, or rather, the day. If you need anything, you might have noticed a long rope hanging by the side of your bed—”

  “I did not, in fact.”

  “Well, it’s connected to a bell near our bedrooms. If you have an emergency, feel free to ring.”

  “I thought you said you guys were too weak and sleepy during the day to do much of anything.”

  “Anything that is in my power to do for you, rest assured that I will do it.” He leaned close to her when he said it, and Sherry found her lips only centimeters from his. They searched each other’s faces; then Lucas lowered his gaze and took a long step back. With a sharp and polite nod, he turned around and walked quickly back down the hall.

  ***

  Sherry stepped back inside her room, breathing heavily as she closed the door. The quiet drumbeat of her heart had become one pounding blow after another, and it took her a few minutes to catch her breath. Had Lucas felt it too? Was that why he ran away so quickly? Was he resisting getting close to someone he’d most likely ending up killing?

  She tried not to think of the latter possibility as she got ready for bed. After pointlessly locking the door again, she went to the bathroom-slash-spa to brush her teeth and remove her makeup. She was impressed the vampires had remembered human necessities like toothbrushes and cold cream. Why did she think the majority of the planning for this suite had come from Lucas?

  She was surprised at how easy it had been to talk to him. Shouldn’t she naturally be frightened of his predator instincts? In fact, in all the months she’d been on her own in Paris, she’d never fallen into that kind of immediate familiarity with anyone, not even the other fortune-tellers. It had taken weeks of conversation to build the kind of kinship with them that she’d felt just now with Lucas.

  Could she mean something more than just another meal to him? Was that why he treated her differently? Was he thinking of her as a potential companion? Sherry didn’t know how she felt about the possibility. From what she’d seen of vampires, their lifestyle wasn’t exactly attractive. Having to live underground . . . or maybe that was just this particular group. She had no proof that was how they all lived.

  Certainly, the vampires themselves were more than attractive. Beautiful, even. Their flawless white skin. Their enormously strong and fast bodies. The graceful ease with which they mastered telekinesis and mind-reading. Best of all, to Sherry, the fact that they never had to grow old and die. Never had to know the terror she’d felt in the catacombs, or the lesser fear she was experiencing now.

  What if Lucas was the one who “turned her,” or whatever the expression was? That would mean being close to him. He’d probably have to drink her blood. Which would mean putting his lips to her throat. It would almost be like kissing, with Sherry lying in his arms . . . The strange, dark appeal of it surprised her.

  Drinking blood. That would be a problem. Especially if it meant killing people. Sherry didn’t think she could bear the look of fear in a victim’s eyes, the panicked mortals struggling uselessly against her iron grasp. It was enough to make her sick. But if it was the only way to stay alive down here, to become one of them? Could she overcome her fear and disgust, especially if it meant Lucas would be her maker? Maybe there were other ways to satisfy bloodlust, ones that didn’t involve h
urting people.

  Well, that was neither here nor there for the moment. She wasn’t a vampire, and no one was offering to make her one. Best to just focus on staying alive as a human for now.

  When she emerged from the bathroom, a gorgeous silk robe lay on the bed. A deep rose color, it covered a matching slip and panties. She recognized the label from one of the most expensive shops in Paris.

  The lingerie was truly beautiful, but impractical. For one thing, it was much too nice to wear just for herself—unless Lucas was trying to give her a hint of some kind? No, he seemed to be a gentleman. Maybe he thought she was used to wearing this type of nighttime apparel at home? She snorted. Not likely. Ratty old tee shirts were more her style. The second drawback to such skimpy clothing was that she would probably freeze in her sleep, and all they’d find eight hours later was her icy cold corpse. Which would sadden no one but Lucas.

  Still, it wouldn’t hurt to try it on. She did, and then studied herself in the mirror. Somehow, she looked like a French model. No wonder undergarments like this cost so much. Apparently, they had the ability to give you an entirely different body, complete with every purchase. Just like the knit dress, the items were a perfect fit.

  Okay, that was a little disturbing. She didn’t want to think about how Lucas found out the size of her intimate . . . anything.

  But she was suddenly too exhausted to think about that. Yawning and stretching her arms behind her head, she pushed the ten thousand pillows off the bed, careful not to move them towards the fire. Which she should probably put out. Although it was tempting to let it keep burning in order to heat the room, she knew it could easily spread, and she’d already risked death more than once tonight.

  When the last of the flames had been extinguished, she peeled back the heavy down comforter and slipped between the sleekest satin sheets she’d ever felt. A thought passed through her drowsy mind that satin didn’t make any sense in the winter-like conditions down here. But she was so tired, and they felt so good against her skin, that she barely cared. Actually, she was surprised at just how warm it was beneath the covers, even with the thin sheets. Must be the comforter. All mortals should give up central heating just so they could enjoy downy quilts like this one. It was the last thought she had as her body surrendered to a well-deserved rest.