House of Cards

by Waters, Ilana

  But Lucas’s good mood did not always last long. He seemed more distracted lately, preoccupied with something he didn’t discuss with Sherry, and she didn’t want to pressure him by asking what it was. Whatever the concern, it made itself known in a variety of ways. It might be the especially grieved looked he had when he returned from certain outings, his skin warmer and his face more flushed than when he’d gone out. Sherry knew that killing was still an aching burden to him, one that not even she could hope to understand. But he seemed absentminded in smaller ways as well. She had to bring his attention back to conversations they were having, or remind him of ones they’d already had. Although he was always very apologetic about it, it kept happening more and more.

  She tried to keep their exchanges light and pleasant whenever she could, sprinkled with interludes of heavy kissing. Sherry was tempted to give herself over to him completely, if it would ease the pain in his heart, whatever it was. But she was reluctant to take such a big step, just in case. In case they wouldn’t last. In case fate decided to rip them apart after it was done. It would be so much more painful to Lucas if she should die, having made that ultimate expression of love. Which was exactly what tempted her so—she might have only one chance to know what it felt like. But still, she resisted. For him.

  However, they couldn’t just sit in her room making out all the time. Not with another gorgeous Paris spring laid out before them, although Sherry wouldn’t have minded spending more time in Lucas’s arms. He insisted they see and do as much in the city as possible, and that Sherry enjoy every delicious meal his vampire nature no longer afforded him.

  They were strolling along a side street one evening, trying to decide on a restaurant for Sherry. They needed one where the waiters wouldn’t look too closely at Lucas as he chopped his food into tiny pieces, moving them around on his plate. If he could manage to do that, and lift his spoon or fork a few times to his mouth, it was easy to convince others that he was really eating. He’d even managed to fool Sherry a few times, much to her chagrin. She really ought to know better by now.

  After “window-shopping” eateries for a while, she pointed out a cute little bistro to him, with green-and-white-checked awning. It was noticeably less expensive than the places he typically treated her to, but she didn’t want him to think she was taking advantage of his generosity. She was also afraid to ask where he got money from, or where any of the other vampires did. She had a nagging suspicion the source was their victims.

  “It’s a shame all the tables out front are taken,” Sherry sighed. “It’s a nice night for an al fresco dinner.”

  “I’ll get us one,” Lucas replied, and before she could say anything, he was walking toward the restaurant.

  Sherry thought that maybe he was going to bribe a waiter. But instead, he went up to two of the patrons, a very tan older man sitting with a pretty young woman. After a brief conversation, the two appeared very dazed and lethargic. Muttering apologies, they looked around as if they’d lost something, gathered their belongings, and hailed a taxi. Lucas motioned to her to join him.

  “Wow, that was nice of them, to give up their table. Were they just leaving?”

  “No, I made them leave.”

  “What?”

  “I made them leave. The same way I procured seats for us at le Grand Véfour. Hypnosis, glamour, whatever the modern term is for it.”

  “But that’s terrible! And this is different than le Grand Véfour—we weren’t stealing anyone’s table out from under them. At least, I don’t think we were. Those patrons just now, they were here first. You shouldn’t do that to people!”

  “Nonsense. Do you think that man is going to apologize to his wife when he returns home later this evening, the scent of his mistress’s perfume still heavy all around him? Or the obnoxious mistress—will she apologize to the store clerk she got sacked this afternoon for not attending to her idiotic needs quickly enough? Don’t worry about them. People like that can take care of themselves.”

  Sherry looked down and was silent. It hadn’t occurred to her that the patrons might be horrible people. Of course, he could be making it up so she’d feel all right about using the table, but deep in her heart, she knew that wasn’t the case. It must be a terrible burden to see people’s thoughts the way he did. It was like reading tarot. Sometimes, you learned things about customers you’d just as soon forget. And seeing inside the heads of that man and woman had obviously stripped Lucas of his previous good humor. Funny, how little it took to get a person down sometimes.

  “We still didn’t have the right to take their table,” she said softly, fingering the necklace Lucas had given her on Christmas Eve. She stroked the hard golden feathers of the little bird as if to soothe it.

  “Would you rather be pointlessly moral, and eat inside?” He made a show of examining the menu, as if he were actually going to eat what he ordered.

  Sherry took her own menu in hand, and looked it over. “No, they’re gone, so as you said, what’s the point?” She waited a few beats, then spoke again. “And thank you, for getting it for me. I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful.”

  “You’re quite welcome,” he smiled (smiled!). “And you didn’t.”

  But it was hard to recover the peaceful feeling they’d enjoyed earlier. As Sherry mindlessly chewed her food, and Lucas pushed his around the plate, distracted, it was easy to silently envy the people going about their everyday lives. How lucky they were to be unaware of the hellacious position that she and Lucas were forced into by the House of Cadamon.

  As they watched confused tourists, hurried mothers, and old friends greeting each other, Sherry was struck by an idea.

  “Let’s play pretend!”

  “Pardon?”

  “Let’s pretend. Pretend we’re high school students, trying to decide between universities. Or newlyweds! Yes, we’re very young newlyweds, married right out of high school. Our parents didn’t approve, of course, but they figured, better let us get married, rather than look like we’re shacking up. We’re both so headstrong, we’re going to do what we want anyway. We’re on a short honeymoon before we start scraping together money for you to attend l’École des Beaux-Arts. Someday you’ll become a famous artist, but nobody knows it yet.”

  She paused. She’d ruined it. Charades and making up stories with tarot cards was one thing, but now he must think she was truly insane. Men, even ancient immortals like Lucas, probably daydreamed about blowing up buildings, or violent car chases. Of being suave spies who could have any number of impossibly beautiful women, and usually did. They didn’t fantasize about marrying too young, being too poor, and enjoying it. Or, if they did, they certainly didn’t tell anyone.

  He looked at her strangely. She was just about to apologize when he motioned for her to get up. She did, and went over to ask him what was wrong. As if it wasn’t obvious. Jesus, he must think she’d really lost it, and now he wanted to leave.

  He looked at her again, but this time with a secret smile. Guiding her back to the folding chair, he pulled it out for her, and pushed it back in as she sat down. He made a grandiose gesture of unfolding the cheap paper napkin, waving it out, and placing it gently in her lap, as if it were made of the finest linen.

  “I’m sorry, my dear, the silver so does need polishing.” He took out his handkerchief and began rubbing invisible spots on the plastic cutlery. “But Henrico gets so tired, you see, staying up late studying à l’Ecole, that sometimes he neglects his duties.”

  Sherry giggled. “Henrico?”

  “The busboy, darling. Remember, I told you, he’s my friend from school? How else do you think we were able to afford such an expensive restaurant as this, on the first day of our honeymoon? I had to beg Henrico to let the owner allow us use of the back porch for our meal. Of course, with his father’s money, and his own earnings here at La Fantaisie, Henrico was
able to attend les Beaux-Arts an entire semester earlier than me. But I swear on our eternal love, mon amour, I will be a better student than he ever dreamed, and eventually, the most famous sketch artist of all time!”

  Sherry was laughing in earnest now as he uncorked an imaginary bottle of wine, and poured some into an imaginary glass. They were having a marvelous time with their little game, until a squawking family of tourists came bustling out of the restaurant. A father, mother, and three school-age children. The parents seemed to be arguing in German, or Dutch—it was hard to tell. Sherry looked at them intently, but couldn’t determine the content of the heated conversation.

  “They’re arguing over their airplane’s departure time. He’s upset with her because she didn’t remind him, and now they’re late. She’s angry because he kept ‘shushing’ her during dessert, when she was trying to tell him they were late.” Lucas looked at her, surmising her thoughts. He had already read those of the tourists.

  The father was swinging his suitcase only a few centimeters from Sherry. She could see where it was only partially zipped in the back, dangerously overflowing with clothing and souvenirs. The man gestured urgently to his wife with the hand that held the bag, and sure enough, it was the last straw for the strained zipper. It broke apart with a loud snap, sending a flurry of undershirts and a pack of playing cards spilling at Sherry and Lucas’s feet. The lovers both started picking the things up at the same time, but the harried tourists hardly noticed. They were too busy hailing a taxi. The man gathered the majority of his underthings together and hurried to get inside the cab, shouting angry directions to the driver.

  Sherry and Lucas were left looking at the scattered deck of cards. It was a distressing reminder of what had brought them to this point, and of the ever-present danger and torment they were unable to escape.

  Sherry glanced down at the long, pale-pink scars on her arm. Yet another painful example of just how close they were to death. To losing each other, and all the astounding beauty of this world, with one wrong word, one stroke, one moment.

  Sherry now understood why Lucas hadn’t gone above ground often before she came. The city flaunted the life he was denied. The human life the Master had stolen from him, complete with a young man’s aspirations of having a career, and perhaps a wife and family of his own. They sat together at the tiny table in silence for a long time.

  “Why don’t we just run away on one of our little outings?” Sherry finally said. “Just run as far and as fast as we can, and see what happens?”

  “And exactly how long do you think it would take the others to find us, drag us back, and torture you to death in front of me?” replied Lucas matter-of-factly.

  Sherry paused. She had considered that possibility, of course. But it was still disturbing to hear him say it out loud like that, so forceful and sure.

  “And even if we ran fast enough and far enough,” he continued, “they’d be sure to find us eventually. Don’t think they wouldn’t. They have eternity to search, and the Master is not one to give up easily.”

  Sherry ran her hair through her fingers in frustration. We shouldn’t be giving up so easily either, she thought.

  “But I don’t know what else to do! Can you think of another way? Sometimes you can’t plan out everything in advance, Lucas. Even with my tarot cards, I can’t see every single aspect of the future. Sometimes, you just have to take a deep breath and ride the wind, wherever it takes you.”

  Lucas smiled, but it was an exhausted smile.

  “And sometimes you have to wait, plan things carefully, weigh all the options, and then make a decision. That’s how you ensure the best future possible.”

  “But Lucas, how long have you been doing that? You’ve been weighing and measuring and waiting and planning for centuries, and you still haven’t found a way to escape the House of Cadamon. Frankly, I think the time has come for you to take a chance and throw all your planning out the window.”

  “And if I could do that in a way that wouldn’t endanger your life, Sherry, I’d have no hesitation whatsoever.”

  There was another long silence. They had come to a standstill. On one hand, at least he was listening to her suggestions, if not actively taking her advice. On the other hand, they were still at a loss about what to do, unable to move anywhere near the direction of their dreams. They watched the playing cards blow away in the sudden spring wind, one by one, until all had disappeared from sight.

  Chapter 17—A Horrific Fate

  Just when it seemed things couldn’t get any more frustrating, Sherry’s little world was rocked by an act so ghastly, she felt it would haunt her nightmares for years to come. If she managed to live that long.

  The cards knew it before she did, but again, she ignored them at her peril. The Eight of Swords, for painful constraints, and being controlled by another. The Ten of Swords, for desolation and despair. Maybe she thought the constant appearance of The Devil was owing to the fact that she lived in a cave full of vampires. She’d grown so used to the presence of evil that she was no longer surprised when her readings reflected it. But she couldn’t help thinking that if she’d paid closer attention, there was some way she could have prevented the awful occurrence.

  It happened in the billiard room, of all places. Christ—she wasn’t even safe shooting pool. Of course, there really was no safe place for a mortal in the House of Cadamon. She should have learned that by now. But for some reason, her mind had assigned all life-threatening events to the parlor. Strange, the way her brain worked sometimes.

  She’d been practicing her combination shots with Lucas not far off, in his room, presumably drawing. Perhaps even more sketches of her. The thought made her smile as she sunk another two balls into the corner pocket of the pool table.

  She saw Thomas come into the room out of the corner of her eye. He was hard to miss, being so tall. Sherry had learned that typically, vampire movements were quick, graceful. Almost like a dancer’s, even when doing the most mundane tasks.

  But his movements were slower this time, almost wary. He slunk into the room as if he were trying to hide something. All the time he was watching her, his eyes running all over her body. As layered up as she was for the cold that seemed to run permanently throughout the House, she felt naked and exposed. A severe shiver run through her, despite the thick wool sweater and cashmere scarf she wore.

  “Hello, Thomas.”

  He said nothing. His melting, liquid eyes took in the sight of Sherry behind the table, setting up her next shot. Funny, he was almost handsome. The boyish hair, the soft features. If only she didn’t know what he really was.

  “Did you want to shoot pool? I could leave. I was just messing around, anyway.”

  “No, no,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving her. “Why don’t we . . . play together?”

  The very thought of continuing to be alone in the room with him made her heart skip a beat, and not in a good way. She tried to steady her pool cue so he wouldn’t notice her trembling hands. She considered refusing to stay, but could find no logical reason to do so. Afraid of what he might do should she offend him, Sherry nodded and racked up a new set of balls for them.

  She offered to let him break, but he declined. “Just as well,” she squeaked, her voice a little too high. “I probably need the practice.” Her heart began to beat even faster when he didn’t reply.

  They each made a couple of shots, but Thomas was clearly the better player, no doubt thanks to centuries of experience. He walked, cat-like, around the table, easily sinking ball after ball, sometimes even three at once. Sherry hadn’t even known that was possible.

  It’s okay. It’s okay, she told herself, still shaking as he graciously let her have a turn, even though he hadn’t missed a single shot. Lucas is just down the hall if I need him. Everything’s going to be okay.

  But it wasn’t ok
ay. He came up behind her while she was leaning in for a shot, and circled her waist with both hands. Exactly as Peter had done. She leapt up immediately, but there was nowhere to go. He bent his head into her hair and breathed in deeply.

  A soft moan escaped his lips. “Mmmm. I could just stand here forever, taking in that intoxicating scent. You smell so . . . succulent, my pet.”

  No. No! This wasn’t happening again. Memories came flooding back to her, of being in the alley. Of Thomas grabbing her and running off. Of being surrounding by grinning skulls and cackling vampires. Of almost slowly bleeding to death in Peter and Adrian’s arms.

  But that last scenario would have been an easy way to go compared to this. Thomas wouldn’t be content to just feed and kill her quickly. No, there was something else he’d much rather do first, and maybe more than once.

  Her heart beat out of control as he took off her scarf, her hands shaking so hard they were useless as she tried to loosen his grip. Not that it would have helped. He stripped her down to her last upper layer so fast it was astounding. He had just begun to unbutton her jeans when she opened her mouth to scream for Lucas.

  “No, no—mustn’t do that, sweetness,” he said, squeezing her throat so she couldn’t make a sound. He ripped off the jeans, and with one fluid motion, cleared the balls from the table and wrestled her face down onto it. In a blind panic she reached for something, anything, but the pool cues were too far away. Even her telekinesis was useless—with her head pressed down, Sherry couldn’t focus on any other potential weapons. All she could do was stare helplessly at the deep red of the felt table as Thomas pried her legs open and climbed on top of her. His body was as cold and unbearably strong as the others had been.