House of Cards

by Waters, Ilana

  “Arming sword?”

  “This.” He deftly swung around an enormous weapon that was at least half Sherry’s height. She jumped back, even though she was well out of the sharp blade’s reach. She wasn’t taking any chances.

  Sherry may not have been an expert on swords, but if Lucas wasn’t skillful with this one, he certainly hid it well. The young vampire cut through the air back and forth several times, both in front of and behind his body. Sherry wondered for several minutes what defensive purpose the moves might have, before realizing that they may have been strictly to impress her. Which was working, since she could see clearly the tight muscles of his chest pressing against his shirt. Sherry bit her lip in an attempt to keep from staring.

  “Often incorrectly called the broad sword,” he continued, swishing the blade adeptly, “this was the standard-issue weapon of the medieval knight. At least it was until the thirteenth century, when the longsword became more popular.” He frowned and made a few stabbing motions, each with a soft whoosh. “I don’t believe we have one of those on hand. Anyway, arming swords are better at cutting than thrusting, which is useful when attempting to decapitate vampires. It allows for quick, clean slices.”

  “Sounds like you’re chopping up vegetables for soup rather than ridding the world of your most hated enemies,” commented Sherry.

  “Both are valuable skills in life,” said Lucas. “Don’t you agree?”

  He spent the rest of the evening teaching her about different types of swords, and the various ways to employ them. It felt thrilling to be so close to him, as they moved their bodies in different ways. At one point, after she’d tried to hold the arming sword with both hands, it became clear the weapon was too heavy for her. Facing her back, Lucas put his arms around Sherry, showing her how to swing the sword. After he lowered it, he rested his head against the side of hers, his arms covering her arms. He breathed in deeply the scent of her hair, and for a moment they stood there, locked to one another. Then Lucas cleared his throat, and she stepped out of his embrace, the moment gone.

  To his delight, she was a quick learner, memorizing most of the moves after being shown them only a few times. It felt good to be doing something proactive against the other vampires, even if it might turn out to be an exercise in futility. And working with the arming sword gave her an opportunity for physical contact with Lucas. She had the sense that Lucas was hesitating, holding back. There was definitely an intense attraction that couldn’t be denied.

  She considered trying to use her telekinesis on one of the lighter swords, but decided against it. She had just picked a foil without her hands while Lucas’s back was turned, then realized she didn’t want to draw his attention that way. Not yet. It was funny; even though they’d shared so much, she still didn’t feel right telling him she could move things with her mind. She thought it might make her seem, well, weird. Which was silly. For one thing, she had never cared what others thought of her in the “weird” department. Second, he already knew she was a psychic who could read tarot. And third, he was a vampire, for crying out loud! He was definitely more qualified to understand supernatural abilities than she was, so he could hardly object to her telekinesis.

  And he had seemed so intrigued and awed over the fact that she could read tarot. Maybe telekinesis would make him think even more highly of her? Or maybe not. She still couldn’t tell. Putting the sword down very gently with her mind, Sherry was thankful he was too absorbed in the other weapons to notice when she did. She resolved to visit the drawing room when the vampires were sleeping in order to practice telekinesis with the swords. Just in case.

  It seemed strange to Sherry that vampires were immortal, yet could be destroyed by decapitation. You thought some things were forever. Like love. Like the bond she’d had with Kaileen. Strong and thick as the ropes they’d tied to tree branches as children, swinging back and forth, back and forth. You never thought they would break.

  But you’d be wrong. The love that had taken Sherry years to grow into was violently ripped from her grasp in less than a minute and a half. That’s how long the police said it had taken Kaileen to die after her car was hit. When Sherry heard the news, standing at the front door with her parents, she knew the officer was only trying to make them feel better. To explain that it had been quick, that Kaileen hadn’t really suffered. But it surprised Sherry how little it had taken—just one errant car and its driver—to tear the fabric of souls that had bound them together.

  Would it be different now? Had she finally found a love that even time couldn’t rip, or bend, or break?

  Chapter 13—A World of Make-Believe

  After only a few days, Sherry’s secret telekinetic practice with the swords was going well. She was now able to move the rapier about quite easily, almost as elegantly with her mind as Lucas was able to with his hands. She still hadn’t been able to lift the arming sword for very long, much less swing it about. Those things were so damn heavy. How on earth had mortal men—and a few women—managed to handle them so many centuries ago?

  She wasn’t overly concerned with the weighty matters of swords at the moment, however. The winter holidays were almost upon them, and the world was in full swing with the joy and busyness of the season. The City of Light certainly lived up to its name during Christmas. Twinkling, incandescent bulbs adorned nearly every surface in the capital, from trees lining the bustling streets to famous monuments all over Paris. The Eiffel Tower stood out especially well against the nighttime skyline, a beacon of glory and national pride. Sherry imagined she saw an increased lightness to Lucas’s mood as they roamed the chilly streets, peeking in the windows of shops open late.

  They went to see the city’s Christmas tree at Notre Dame. Sherry felt a brief sadness come over her when she realized she would not have her own decorated tree this year. But she was lucky to be alive, all things considered. She did manage to corral Lucas into going ice-skating at one of the outdoor rinks that only existed here during Christmastime. He was the very picture of grace, and they glided across the ice like two accomplished dancers. Well, Lucas glided. Sherry had not yet mastered the art of stopping, and was only able to do so by plowing into him. Which he didn’t mind as much as she’d expected.

  How his eyes shone each time he saw Sherry hurtling into his arms! How he loved spinning her around, laughing! He had to be careful not to laugh too loudly, for fear the supernatural sound would attract mortals’ attention. Sherry rather liked that she was the only one who truly heard it, how she knew him better than anyone else here. He was her own delicious secret, and she didn’t want to share.

  And skating with him was just so . . . thrilling. It allowed her to be so close to him, perspiring, breathless, even though he never showed any signs of exertion. It was almost as exciting as she imagined kissing him would be.

  There was talk that there might be snow by Christmas, a rare occurrence in Paris. Although the winters here could be brutally cold, snow was a special treat that the city was blessed with only once every few years. Sherry tried not to think about it, reasoning that the less she pretended to want it, the greater her chance of receiving.

  Although the snow eluded them for now, the city was seeing its fair share of rain these past few weeks. It had curtailed her and Lucas’s nighttime excursions for the past several evenings, and even the other vampires were becoming irritable, being cooped up for so long. Sherry imagined the weather made feeding on and disposing of bodies even more problematic.

  To pass the time, she and Lucas played board games in front of a roaring fire in her suite. At first she had balked. Games like Scrabble and Monopoly were for children, and hadn’t been any fun since she was in grade school.

  “This is your idea of a good time?” Sherry grumbled, trying to make discernible words out of the jumble of tiny squares in front of her. God, she was bad at Scrabble. “Is this what vampires did before the adv
ent of cable? And the Internet?” She could hear the hiss and sizzle of the fire, and instinctively inched away. The last thing she needed, in addition to losing the game, was to set herself ablaze.

  “Yes, those were truly the dark ages, love,” he said, taking his turn when she admitted she had no usable letters. “No Internet, no cable. No microwave dinners. My, but how did we ever survive?”

  “Well, the microwave I might be able to live without, but—DAMMIT! You got a triple word score! That is so unfair!”

  “What can I say?” He raised his beautiful white hands to the heavens. “I am blessed with deity-like powers when it comes to board games.”

  The truth was, Sherry didn’t really dislike playing with him. It was another opportunity to spend time together, which seemed to pass quickly and pleasantly, no matter what the activity. Being on the floor with him was somehow even more exciting than being in his room, on his bed. There was so much more space. The thick, multicolored carpet seemed like an endless playground.

  One evening, when they had grown tired of playing every game at least twice, Lucas thought of something else they could do.

  “What about charades?” he suggested.

  “Charades?”

  “It’s how we used to pass the quiet hours. At home. Long, long ago, during the cold and lonely winter nights. We told stories too, and did playacting, my brothers and sisters and I. Once upon a time.” His eyes and voice were somber, almost wistful.

  So he had had a sister too. More than one, in fact. Sherry wondered if he’d been as close to them as she’d been with Kaileen. Or was sibling rivalry as fierce back then as it was now? She and Kaileen had rarely experienced any kind of rivalry, actually. In fact, her sister had been her best friend, more than anyone her own age. And she’d been more caring towards Sherry than their parents, who were often too busy arguing with one another to pay attention to either daughter. Kaileen defended Sherry when bullies at school taunted her, consoled her when she scraped her knee. They had their own little world with one another, and when Kaileen died—

  Wow. People said that the world didn’t end when someone died, but for Sherry, it really had. And Lucas’s world had been destroyed too, when he died, or whatever term vampires used for turning immortal.

  So where did that leave them? Two broken planets moving closer together. What would happen if they collided? Total annihilation? Or could they create an entirely new—and better—world?

  “Sometimes,” said Sherry, “when I was bored in the square, I’d make up stories about the pictures on the cards.”

  “Really?” Lucas jutted his chin forward from where it rested on his hands, his arms folded on the footstool. “Like what?”

  “Well, if I drew the Empress, the Knight of Wands, and the Chariot, I imagined the Empress was having an affair with one of her knights. They made their escape in a golden chariot to a far-off land, where they had to gather forces against the evil Emperor, her husband, who’d be coming after them.”

  “Excellent.” Lucas smiled. “You have quite an imagination.”

  “Nah. It’s not that hard.”

  “Not for some. For others . . .” He shrugged. “My so-called companions, well . . .”

  “Well?”

  “Sherry, there are some people who look at those cards, and all they’ll ever be able to see are rectangular scraps of paper.”

  “Not me.”

  “Well, that’s because you’re unique now, aren’t you?”

  She blushed. She hadn’t meant her comment to sound as haughty as it did.

  “What I meant is, it’s easier than it looks,” she said. “Here, I’ll show you. I’ll make up a story about three cards and act it out. Then you try to guess what it is. If you can guess, then you have the same kind of imagination I do.”

  “Very well.” He smiled warmly and rose to sit on the edge of the chaise.

  She began making a few silly moves, which only caused Lucas to tilt his head and frown at her, trying to decipher what they meant.

  “Circle? Orchestra conductor? Pile of horse manure?”

  “No, no,” she laughed, “it’s like this.” She tried making wider arcs with her arms to indicate the Sun card. She moved back a few steps, tripping over the footstool, and began to fall. Flailing wildly, she tried to catch herself, but no sooner had panic begun to flood her heart than—

  He was holding her. She was on the floor, in his arms. He had caught her fall.

  It took a few seconds for Sherry to realize she wasn’t breathing. She tried to suck enough air into her lungs, but it was difficult. His face was so close, his incredible eyes staring so hard into hers. Their lips just centimeters from one another . . .

  “Will you . . . lose control if you kiss me?” she whispered.

  “Lose control?”

  “Yeah, you know. . . like—go crazy? Not be able to keep from killing me?”

  He chuckled. “No, that’s just a myth. I’ve become quite adept at self-control over the centuries, thank you very much.”

  “Well then.” Sherry allowed her last vestige of courage to surface from its hiding place. “What are you waiting for?”

  He hesitated only a moment, then pressed his lips to hers. Sheer electric delight filled every part of her body, from the ends of her hair to the tips of her toes. She put her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His arms circled her waist, and suddenly she was lying on top of him, kissing like they were the last two lovers on earth.

  The gong-like feeling in her chest returned, but its pounding didn’t stop with Sherry. It vibrated outwards, from her heart, to her stomach, legs, arms, and hands. It moved from her eager lips into Lucas, and resounded through his limbs, which he used to pull her even closer. This time, Sherry didn’t wonder whether she was imagining the powerful, enchanted quality of her drumming heart. She knew it was real, and that it lived in Lucas too.

  “I wanted to tell you how I felt,” he murmured, pulling his mouth away only long enough to speak, “but I didn’t know what would happen. How long you could stay.” His mouth found hers again, and for a while the only sounds were their contented moans.

  “I know, I know,” breathed Sherry, “I understand.” That must have been why he kept his distance. She should have known all along. All those years he’d spent without a kindred spirit, only to find one in a mortal. A mortal whom he might lose at any moment on some whim of his evil Master’s. All those nights, all that unsatisfied longing, with the object of his affection only a few feet from him. Afraid to get close, afraid to pull back . . . Sherry felt his pain all over again, and kissed him even harder.

  When their lips parted again, she was staring back into his eyes. Being this close to him was like seeing them for the first time. She could make out every delicate lash, every light blue vein on his translucent lids. She longed to kiss those lids, but couldn’t stop herself from staring long enough to make the move.

  She’d never wanted to be this physically close to anyone until now. So close that they were one person, all barriers between them gone. She longed to hold Lucas tighter, tighter, until they melted into one another like warm snow.

  And how sublime was it that he felt exactly the same? Lucas’s whole face seemed to be smiling, his entire being uplifted. His palms were on the sides of Sherry’s face, eyes locked onto hers. Then, he moved his hands slowly up and down her bare back, underneath her shirt. It felt like satin against her skin. Her breath came in little gasps, and she rubbed the back of his neck with her thumbs, her hips resting on his. He closed his eyes in bliss and covered her mouth in kisses again.

  After several minutes, at which point Sherry needed to come up for air, Lucas sat up and pushed her away, ever so slightly.

  “Hey,” she gasped, moving damp strands of hair away from the warm skin of her face. �
�What happened? What did I do wrong?” The drumbeat feeling was fading now, and she was reluctant to let it disappear entirely.

  “Nothing, Sherry. You did nothing wrong. It’s just that . . . I’m concerned about the future, that’s all.”

  “The future? Who cares about the future? We’re having a great time right now, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m having a wonderful time with you. But that’s just it. How long will it last? How long can it last? What if there’s really no way to tell the future, and all that’s left for us is a long, endless corridor of darkness?”

  Sherry understood his fear, his trepidation. He didn’t want to love only to suffer love’s loss. But the last thing on her mind during their brief embrace had been a long, endless corridor of darkness. She had to get his mind off it, and fast.

  “You know what tarot readers say: ‘The best way to predict the future is to create it.’ ”

  “Sometimes, in the midst of creating your future, you end up with one you don’t want.”

  “So you make up another story.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You make up another story,” she explained patiently. “For instance, once upon a time there was a little girl who lived in a red brick house with her mother, father, and older sister. The mother and father were living happily ever after. Then, they began to argue a lot, so the two girls went to live with their grandmother deeeeep in the woods. She was a good witch, and taught them the ways of magic. When she was finished, the girls were perfect witches. Perfectly good witches, that is. They went back to live with their mother and father in the red brick house, in order to work their magic and make the family happy again. But then, an evil sorcerer came along. With one powerful, magical lightning bolt, he killed the older sister, and tore apart the mother and father so that they no longer loved each other.