House of Cards

by Waters, Ilana

  “The mother stayed in the red brick house. The father and youngest daughter undertook a journey far across the ocean, and settled in a City of Light. They were ready to begin a new adventure, and a new story. See?” she finished. “There. It’s simple.”

  He looked at her a little too long, and she started to become uneasy.

  “Is that what happened to you?” he asked. His voice was barely above a whisper.

  “What?”

  “Was that your family? Was your sister really killed by an evil sorcerer?”

  Crap. She hadn’t expected he would figure out the metaphor so quickly. But she should have; after all, he was one of the most intelligent people she’d ever met. Sherry averted her gaze for several long moments. Then, taking a deep breath, she finally spoke.

  “The evil sorcerer was part drunk driver and part divorce. The driver killed my sister. Shortly afterwards, my parents split up.”

  “I am truly sorry to hear that.”

  Sherry shrugged. “It’s no big deal. A lot of parents get divorced. And drunk drivers . . . well, unfortunately, they’re everywhere these days.”

  “Still, it couldn’t have been easy for you.”

  Sherry sighed and shrugged again. “Mom and Dad were probably planning to split up anyway. They fought a lot. That’s why my sister and I used to go to my gram’s—to get away from all the yelling. Big sis has just gotten her driver’s license, so there was a great sense of freedom about that time. We could escape whenever we wanted. Gram taught my sister tarot. I was too young to really be interested. I was only about ten or eleven. I’d spend my time outside, climbing the cherry and magnolia trees. When Gram died, Kaileen—”

  Sherry stopped. She hadn’t said her sister’s name aloud in years. It felt strange to do so now.

  Lucas raised his eyebrows and waited patiently for her to proceed.

  “It—it was Kaileen who really taught me tarot. The deck I use was hers. She gave it to me. It has one of the oldest designs in the history of the practice.”

  “It must be very special to you, then.”

  “It is.”

  “Without my cards to rely on, I’d feel . . . I don’t know. Carved out, somehow. Empty.”

  “Maybe Kaileen’s loss is what has you feeling so empty.”

  Sherry frowned. “I never really thought about it.” It seemed pretty ridiculous. She shouldn’t still be mourning Kaileen. Her sister had been dead for more than six years. That other life—the one with two married parents, the elder confidante, an entire triumphant future before her . . . that was all over now.

  Or was it? Could she begin again—a new life—with someone who’d be just as close as Kaileen?

  There was an uncomfortable silence, then Lucas spoke again.

  “What did your parents quarrel over?”

  “Hmmm . . . that’s a tough one. I guess the short answer is ‘how to live.’ Mom wanted to travel. Dad was for staying put. Oddly enough, after they divorced, he went to live with his girlfriend in France. She got a job offer she couldn’t refuse in Chicago, where we were already living. But I chose to stay with my dad. Chicago held too many bad memories, and I just couldn’t give up the opportunity to live somewhere as amazing as here.”

  “That’s quite an independent spirit you’ve got, staying in Paris all by yourself.”

  “Really? I was kind of proud of myself, but it didn’t seem right to brag. Besides, there are lots of singles in the city living alone.”

  “Yes, but not all of them are as young and as feisty as you.”

  Sherry rolled her eyes, but inwardly she was happy to have Lucas admire her.

  “Do your parents have any concerns about your being on your own?”

  “Nah—not after I convinced them otherwise. Though Dad had more reservations than Mom. She was pretty cool with it from the beginning. We write or call at least once . . . every few months.” Or we used to, Sherry thought, until I was kidnapped by vampires.

  “It’s good you were able to maintain an amiable relationship with your parents. Even better that your creativity allows you to make up stories when things become unbearable.” Lucas shifted his shoulders slightly away from her. Sherry wanted to throw herself over them, to bury her face in Lucas’s cool, tender throat. She wanted to cradle and comfort him, to take all his fears away, as well as her own. But it was obvious that the kissing portion of the evening was over. Never mind. She’d look to make another opportunity shortly. Very shortly.

  “Our whole lives are made up of stories.” She began putting the cards back in the box, almost using her telekinetic powers before she remembered Lucas was still there. “That’s how destiny happens. You’re making up a story right now. It’s about a boy who’s trapped by an evil vampire king and his minions, and hasn’t found a way yet to escape. And as soon as you set the story down, whether on paper or in your mind, it becomes real.”

  “What happens when you get to the end of the story, and you can’t think of a new beginning anymore?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. I’ve never gotten to that point before. I hope by then, the story will make sense. It will be so perfect, it won’t need another ending.”

  He gave her a small, sad smile.

  “I hope you’re right, Sherry. I truly hope you’re right.”

  Chapter 14—Violation

  Her cards hadn’t predicted it at all.

  That was partly her fault, however. She hadn’t been reading them much lately, especially after “the kiss.” She’d been walking on air ever since it happened, oblivious of her surroundings, and of any potential danger. There’d been more kisses since then. They often happened when Lucas was sitting on Sherry’s bed, or she on his. Now that she knew he wasn’t given to bouts of uncontrollable bloodlust, it made being intimate with him that much more satisfying.

  They had to be careful, of course. There was no telling if, when, or how the Master might try to interfere. It could be as simple as interrupting their trysts with some silly errand or pointless task for Lucas. Or it might be darker, more sinister than that. He might decide that his vampire was spending too much time and effort on a mortal, and remedy the situation by removing Sherry entirely. The atmosphere was always tense with some kind of expectation.

  But Lucas outdid all of Sherry’s expectations when it came to the kissing department. This was nothing like the adolescent pawing she was used to. The embraces happened effortlessly, without pretense. Lucas ran his hands smoothly, slowly, over the hollow of her back, while her hands reached above his shoulders, cradling his head. He never stumbled over unhooking her bra—he never tried to. She knew he was capable of going further, much further, but Sherry wasn’t ready. He let her lead the way, making his kisses deeper only when she did, moving closer when she motioned him to. They spent many blissful hours discovering each other this way.

  If only she hadn’t been so distracted. If only she’d taken the time to do a quick reading, she’d have seen The Devil, and its adjacent peril, ready to strike.

  It was Christmas Eve, and she’d been in her room, humming to herself as she tidied up. Others might not see the need for a maid at the House of Cadamon, but Sherry found that her dead skin cells were piling up. She was quickly disposing of them with the new feather duster Lucas had bought her.

  Lucas. She smiled to herself, just thinking of his name. She hadn’t been able to see him much in the past week, as he was very involved in his holiday charity work, under the Master’s radar, of course. Before she’d come along, this was time of the year when he most frequently went above ground. But Sherry was glad to sacrifice the time with him if it meant others were benefitting from his unique and abundant skills.

  She was so absorbed in her task that she almost didn’t hear the soft knock at the door. When it began to sound a little more urgently, she
skipped over to it, expecting to see Lucas on the other side.

  Instead, it was Peter.

  “Oh. Um, hi there.” She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “What can I do for you?”

  “Adrian and I were wondering, well, if you weren’t busy, might you mind doing a reading for us?” His manner was demure and apologetic, but the gleam in his eyes suggested otherwise.

  “Er, right. Sure. Just let me gather my things.” She searched the suite before finding her cards under a pile of clothing. Was it just her imagination, or did Peter look a bit paler than usual?

  She followed him to the drawing room, where Adrian was sitting on the chaise, looking expectant. She hoped she could complete the reading quickly. She wanted to spend as much time with Lucas as possible upon his return. Which would occur directly through the floor beneath them, thanks to the secret entrance.

  She sat next to Adrian and pulled out the cards. Peter sat on her other side, his hand close to her thigh. A little too close, she thought, but knowing his feelings for Adrian, she dismissed it.

  She had just begun discussing the cards the smaller man chose when there was a whisper in her ear.

  “Perhaps it’s unjust of us to ask Sherry to do so many readings,” Peter murmured, brushing hair away from her throat. “Night after night, after all . . . it must tax her psychic abilities substantially.”

  “So true,” agreed Adrian, gazing at Peter, his eyes alive with excitement. He pushed the cards and their box to the floor before moving closer to Sherry, taking her forearm between his hands. “Surely she needs a brief rest now and again, if only to gather her strength . . .” He unbuttoned her cuff and started to roll up her sleeve.

  Sherry’s heart began pounding violently. She was sure that fact didn’t go unnoticed by both vampires. Peter’s hands were now circling her waist, drawing her closer to him, his lips brushing gently against her throat.

  “Why don’t we send her off to sleep? That way, she’ll be refreshed when lover-boy returns.” Peter’s arms were an enormous manacle, impossibly strong as she struggled against them. Adrian was running his sharp, white nails against her delicate arm, almost breaking the skin.

  “Please, no—don’t.” She was shaking uncontrollably now, barely able to speak. Strange, how her inability to tame her emotions was more disturbing than anything else. Even while death’s door lay open wide and unfathomable before her. “Lucas will—Lucas!” she called feebly.

  “Now now, no reason to be apprehensive.” Adrian touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “We just want a little taste. Don’t we, my love?” He was looking at Peter. “We wouldn’t dream of killing Lucas’s little friend. Not unless he was here to watch, naturally.”

  “God, please don’t. I’m begging you, please—” But it was too late.

  Adrian’s nails raked long, jagged gashes in her arm that burned like narrow trails of fire. Peter tipped her head back against his shoulder and held it there as he sank his fangs into her throat.

  It had been bad enough when Thomas drank her blood, the night she’d been kidnapped. This was a thousand times worse. Before, she’d only had some vague, general notion of what lay in store for her. She feared for the sake of fear itself, automatically concerned with her own self-preservation. But now . . . now she was so terribly aware of what was happening. She knew these men didn’t care if they killed her, whether in front of Lucas or not. She knew they could not be persuaded, or reasoned with.

  Worst of all, Sherry knew what she had to lose. Before, it had just been a painfully lonely existence disguised as the pleasant life of a young Parisian. Now there was something much greater at stake. Something people like her waited their whole lives to find. Something almost as important as life itself. Her love for Lucas.

  “Lucas,” she moaned, not surprised when her lips made no sound. There was nothing but silence in the room, interrupted only by satisfied grunts from the vampires as they fed on her. Pulse after pulse of her warm blood flowed into them, and she was almost angry at her heart for continuing to beat, for aiding their dark purpose.

  As she lay helpless and bleeding in their arms, she thought she heard footsteps, and a creaking sound from somewhere in the room. Suddenly, there were shouts and the sound of shattering glass as she was released from the iron grasp of the two men. She tried to pick her head up, to see what was happening. But as she lay on the soft, satiny chaise, she could only sink down, down, into the cold darkness, until it owned her completely.

  ***

  She awoke in softness. Her first thought was that she was dead, and in a tightly-bound, yet comfortable shroud. It was hard to move at all, though whether that was due to her downy fetters or general state of weakness was hard to say. She heard crackling and popping noises, and felt warmth where the noises came from.

  She was in bed. A cozy fire blazed away in the fireplace. She tried lifting her head, only to hear Lucas’s heavenly voice admonishing her.

  “No, no love, just lie still. You’ve lost a great deal of blood—more than before. You need to rest.” He began tucking her in, even more tightly than she was already.

  Forcing herself to sit up, she stayed his hands. “Lucas,” she croaked, then cleared her throat. “What happened?” She reached for her throat, which ached terribly. A gauze bandage partially covered it, and a similar one graced her arm. The room seemed to swirl around her, her stomach moving with it.

  “I returned to the House just in time to see Peter and Adrian . . . snacking, as it were.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste, and his voice took on a low, harsh quality. “Naturally, I grabbed Adrian and punched him. Peter flew up to strike me and I hit him as well, breaking a vase over his head in the process. Then I told them both to get out, and if they ever fed on my mortal again, I would haul them up before the Master, and let him deal with them.”

  Sherry managed a weak smile. “Your mortal, eh?”

  “Yes, well, it is generally considered bad taste, once a vampire has laid claim to a mortal, to kill or feed on that individual without the claiming vampire’s permission. And as we have seen, Master is a stickler for manners, if not for morals. At least where most humans are concerned.” He poured a tall glass of water and handed it to her.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking a long drink. “I can’t believe they tried to kill me. I mean, I know that sounds stupid, but it was so . . . unexpected. One minute I was doing a reading and the next—wait a minute. Where are my cards?” She began searching frantically around the bed.

  “I put them in your rucksack, for safekeeping. None of them are damaged. I checked.”

  “Whew. Thanks.” She sat back down against enormous pillows. “That’s a relief.”

  There was silence for a few minutes before Sherry spoke again.

  “Lucas? What would you have done if they—if I died?”

  He looked her straight in the eye, and then just as quickly turned away. “I don’t know,

  Sherry,” he said quietly. “I honestly don’t know.”

  She sat up a little straighter, looking more resolved and determined than before. “Lucas, there’s something I want you to do for me. Tonight, if you don’t mind. If you’d be so kind as to wait outside, I’m going to get dressed. I’ll need you to get my coat.”

  He looked at her as if she’d gone insane. “You mean to tell me you want to go above ground, into the city? Absolutely not. Sherry, it’s freezing up there—at least here you have the fire. You’ve lost nearly three pints of blood, by my estimation. You’re incredibly lucky to be alive.”

  “Nevertheless, I’m going ‘upstairs’ and I’ll need your help to get through the tombs, as well as the . . . other place I want to go. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to freshen up and change my clothes, and I’d rather you not see me naked at this particular moment.”

  Lucas ope
ned his mouth to protest again, then thought better of it. He turned towards the door.

  “I’ll be just outside if you need me.”

  Chapter 15—A Different Point of View

  It was ironic that the catacombs no longer held any fear for Sherry, probably because her most recent brush with death didn’t resemble the environment found there. What did it matter, moving among millions of corpses, when death could come just as easily in a fancy parlor? Still, she wouldn’t have been able to find her way out of the tombs without Lucas’s help. She felt a strange sense of peace, a calmness, as she tried not to brush bones and skulls out of the walls where they touched her bulky coat. Lucas had insisted on her wearing an enormous down parka. It kept her quite warm, but also rendered her strikingly similar to a puffy, moving marshmallow. Oh well—the truth was, she didn’t really care how she looked. Let her be undignified, as long as she was with Lucas.

  He’d been a bit hesitant about her idea, and she’d had to remain absolutely firm on the subject until he relented and granted her request. They stood atop the Basilica in Montmartre, the most elevated point in the city. Invisible to all mortal eyes, they had quickly scaled the dome, the vampire flying with Sherry in his arms. She was pleasantly surprised to have no fear of heights from where she stood, certain in the knowledge that if she took even one misstep, Lucas would be there to save her.

  Now if only the pounding headache and nausea would subside, it would be a perfect evening.

  Did she really want to turn into this? Even if Lucas would offer it to her? To become a living monster that brought unspeakable pain to others? The physical discomfort she was feeling now was nothing compared to the emotional agony vampires must cause. Ripping friends and family out of their loved ones’ arms to satisfy their own bloodlust.