House of Cards

by Waters, Ilana

  “Mustn’t yell for lover-boy, no, no . . .” He pushed her arms down hard, too hard, as she sensed his weight against her back. “Then I’d have to kill him while you watched. Or maybe I’d tie him up and force him to watch us together, eh? Make the little mortal-lover jealous. Maybe he should see how good I am . . . how much you wanted it.” She could feel the hard strength of his sex against her leg now, almost ready. “Maybe he’ll regret not giving it to you first,” he whispered. “I sincerely doubt he has. After all, Lucas is such a gentleman, isn’t he?” Sherry braced herself for the worst.

  God, please don’t let it hurt too much. Please God, not too much. Just help me get through this—please don’t let him kill me, she begged silently, hot tears falling over her cheeks.

  Then, there was an abrupt gurgling sound from above her. Thomas suddenly seemed . . . lighter, somehow. An enormous sense of relief flooded every part of her body when she felt he was no longer on top of her. She heard grunts and scuffling noises, then a heavy thunk. Too terrified to look over her shoulder, she could only grip the ends of the table and wait for whatever it was to be finished.

  She felt a large, weighty piece of fabric being draped over her. Cold, satiny hands wrapped the enormous piece of tapestry around her body. She caught a glimpse of her clothes, torn to shreds on the floor. They were right next to where Thomas’s body sat, in a pool of blood leaking from his neck.

  His handsome head lay across the room.

  Sherry was shaking so violently now that she had to cling to her rescuer’s shoulders just to sit up. As tremors rippled through her, she looked up and saw—

  Clara?

  “C—Clara?” she choked. The female vampire was using her own sleeve to wipe Sherry’s tears off her face. “My God, you—I was about to—thank you!” All her remaining strength vanished as she collapsed onto Clara’s chest and sobbed uncontrollably.

  “Shhh, there there now, shhh.” Clara held her gently and stroked her hair while Sherry cried and cried like a little child into her blouse. “It’s all over now, there there.”

  “A-hem.” The sound of the Master clearing his throat caused them both to look up.

  “Claaa-ra,” he said, wagging his finger as if she’d been a mildly naughty daughter.

  “He was going to hurt her, Sire,” Clara said, her eyes wide and innocent, her voice calm and assured. “And she belongs to Lucas. He hadn’t even asked permission.”

  “Very well then,” he sighed, shaking his head at the widening pool of blood seeping into the floor. “But be sure to clean all this up before dawn, my pigeon. I’ll tell the others to stay out while you’re tidying. Pity,” he said as he left. “I did so like that carpet.”

  Wiping her eyes with her hand, Sherry looked to Clara.

  “I thought that Luc—that everyone else was in their rooms.”

  “We were. Except Lucas. He . . . went out. It’s just that . . . I can smell when Thomas . . . well, let’s just say being able to sense another’s lust is one of the more unpleasant aspects of being a vampire. Few that there are.” She lowered her eyes.

  “But won’t the Master—won’t you get punished for destroying Thomas?” Sherry kept her eyes on the beautiful immortal, trying to avoid seeing the headless one on the floor.

  Clara gave a little laugh. “It’s doubtful, dearie. It’s true Master was fond of Thomas, but rules are rules, after all. Besides, it won’t be long before he finds another attractive young man to replace him with. Millions long for immortality, you know. But only a few are fortunate enough to achieve it.”

  ***

  After Clara helped her back to her suite, Sherry made it a point to bathe four times in a row. She scrubbed every inch of her body, including a few places she hadn’t known about before, in an effort to get the feeling of Thomas off her. After she finished, she sat in the spa-like bathroom, letting the steam soak into her pores. She was almost afraid to leave. Still, she put on a little makeup, to disguise how pale and shaken she was.

  Lucas was sitting on her bed when she emerged. She looked into his eyes, and could tell he knew everything. Clara, or one of the others, must have informed him what happened. Or maybe he just smelled blood soaking into the billiard room floorboards as soon as he’d walked down the hall.

  Despite the fact that she had only a towel wrapped around her, she flung herself into his arms and cried for a long, long time. She thought she’d shed all her tears with Clara. But as soon as she saw her beloved, the memories of pain and fear rose again, bubbling to the surface. Except during moments when she thought of losing him, she had never felt such utter despair. It was like looking down a huge, black hole that you were about to be pushed into. Sherry lost track of how long they sat there, with Lucas rocking her back and forth.

  She begged him to try and leave without her.

  “I’m just going to die here anyway. At least one of us would be free. If it must be you, then let it be you. It would comfort me to know that my death wouldn’t be in vain.”

  “Even if that were possible, and I could think of a way out, would you rather your life be lived in vain? All your hopes and dreams, your beautiful, shining soul, cast into the darkness and completely forgotten? All your gifts and visions and ability to make something out of nothing, tossed aside because others cannot see what precious jewels they are? And do you really think I could go on living with even the smallest amount of love for this life, knowing what I’d had, and then lost?”

  Sherry was silent. For the first time, she was able to see herself as Lucas saw her, and understand the true depths of his pain. She couldn’t think of anything to say.

  “You were the one who told me to keep trying to find a way out of here. Did you actually think I wouldn’t help you do the same?”

  She wiped her tears away with a corner of the bedspread. She was so embarrassed. Now her mascara was running, her face was red from crying. And she really needed to blow her nose.

  “Don’t give up so easily,” said Lucas, looking deeply into her eyes. “All right? Just—please, don’t give up.”

  “Okay,” she sniffed. “I won’t.”

  Wordlessly, he took out his handkerchief and gave it to her. She dabbed at her eyes, and silently handed it back to him.

  “Keep it, Sherry,” he said gently. “Just keep it.”

  She blew her nose and crumpled the handkerchief up in her fist. Then she and Lucas lay together in bed, just holding one another, until dawn.

  Chapter 18—Discovered

  After the attempted rape, Sherry warned Lucas to be careful. She had a feeling something else bad was about to happen. She kept getting the Temperance card for him, indicating the need for prudence and caution. The Seven of Swords—sneakiness and deception. And the King of Swords—a cunning and calculated leader.

  But for the first time, he politely ignored her predictions. Instead, he seemed more unfocused and distracted than ever, spending the majority of the time alone in his room. Sherry couldn’t figure out what he was doing there, and he wouldn’t tell her. She almost doubted his feelings for her—had his affection waned? Had it ever been there all? But the message her cards sent about their relationship never wavered. The Lovers. The Two of Cups. And The Sun, for warmth, love, and devotion.

  She was burning with curiosity as to what his secret project was, until the day she found out. It almost made her wish she’d never known.

  It was Vasha who told her, albeit in an indirect and spiteful way. In the last few weeks, since Thomas’s attack, she had fully recovered every ounce of her vampiric strength, beauty, and power. She glided around the halls of the House in long, flowing robes, the emerald scarf noticeably absent from her crown of glorious auburn hair. She came back every night before dawn, rosy-cheeked and humming, no doubt having gorged herself on the many Parisian beauties she missed during her self-imposed
exile.

  She caught Sherry in the hall one day, spinning her around by the shoulders. Her eyes burned with a fierce and energetic hatred. At first, Sherry thought Vasha was after her blood, like Peter and Adrian. She vowed to try and rip out the vixen’s eyes, if she could manage it, now that she had a better opportunity than the last time she’d been fed on.

  But Vasha just laughed when Sherry brought her hands up in an automatic defensive reflex.

  “Did you really think I would soil my palate with you, you ugly, insignificant little nothing?” she hissed. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just a useless piece of trash. Did you think you were going to get away with it?”

  “What?” Sherry squirmed beneath Vasha’s claw-like nails, which were digging into the soft flesh of her upper arms. “Get away with what? What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play coy with me, you sniveling charlatan.” Vasha seemed every angrier now. “I found out what you and the artist had planned, and informed Master immediately. By now he’s probably deliberating over a delicious fate for you both. And don’t think you’re going to be allowed to die together, either. I told Master that would be far more merciful than both of you deserve. And you can wager he’ll listen to me—he always listens to me.” The vampire let go of Sherry to smooth back her flawless hair, and pinned the mortal with an evil gaze. “So I’d go say goodbye to your lover, if I were you. While you still can.”

  Then Sherry blinked, and when she opened her eyes again, the hall was empty.

  She ran to Lucas’s room, her heart trying to pound its way out of her chest. The door to the vampire’s sleeping quarters was wide open, as if someone had left in a great hurry. The same held true for the door to Lucas’s room.

  The small wooden bed was again covered in his sketches of her. This couldn’t have been what was occupying his time for the past several weeks, could it? Just more of the same?

  She searched throughout the House. He wasn’t in the drawing room. Or the billiard room. He wasn’t even in the library. The rest of the vampires were in the Great Hall, but she was afraid to ask them where he was. She didn’t know if they would answer, or if she wanted to hear their reply. There was also the slim possibility they didn’t know where he’d gone.

  She ran to her room and asked her cards. She’d never questioned them about anyone’s particular location before. They weren’t the correct medium for that type of question. They dealt in lofty, esoteric matters—their expertise lay in concerns of the heart and soul. But maybe—just maybe—they could help her now. Perhaps the connection between her and Lucas was so strong, it could break through the clumsy fetters of time and space, bringing them together no matter what separated them.

  With trembling hands she brought out the deck Lucas had given her. She hadn’t gotten a proper box for it yet, so it was still encased in the soft velvet bag in which it had come. Her cheeks were already wet as her fingers caressed the glittering cards.

  Please. Please tell me where my lover is. I need him. Please help me find him.

  She reached into the deck and pulled out a card from the middle. Turning it over slowly, her gaze was met by an exultant angel blowing a trumpet. Below him, a naked man and woman raised their arms in a gesture of victory and celebration.

  Judgment. But what did that have to do with Lucas’s location? Think, Sherry. Think.

  He couldn’t be dead. She would not let herself even consider the possibility. He couldn’t have gone off to his eternal reward—or punishment—just yet. She dismissed the thought as unacceptable.

  But then what did the Judgment card mean? What part of Paris—or the world for that matter—was symbolized by that image? He wouldn’t have gone outside the city. Not without telling her. She stared down at the cards in hopelessness and misery. If he was still here, where would he be? Where was a place that heralded victory, conquering your enemies, prevailing against the odds?

  Suddenly, Sherry’s head snapped up.

  L’Arc de Triomphe. That was where she needed to go.

  ***

  Clara didn’t mind lifting the heavy trap door in the drawing room for her. And she didn’t think the Master would send anyone out after Sherry, seeing as how any attempt at running away was futile. “He’d just drag you back, dearie, no matter where you ran to. Be sure to return before dawn, now, or he’s likely to be angry.” She even gave Sherry tips on navigating the catacombs; how to avoid the guard patrols, and take hidden passages that wouldn’t require undoing heavy seals.

  Sherry had no intention of attempting to escape the House of Cadamon without Lucas. She would never leave the city until she found him. With her flashlight, and Clara’s skillful instructions, she had no difficulty finding her way out, even without Lucas to guide her. She ignored the squeaking of rats, running close to her feet without a vampire’s presence to repel them. She paid no attention to the millions of skulls and hands and ribcages that seemed to reach out, calling her to join them. Her only thought was to find Lucas. If she couldn’t have him, she’d gladly become one of the many Parisians who found their final resting place underneath the sparkling city.

  It would have been a gorgeous spring evening for a stroll down les Champs-Elysées, but she had no time for pleasure excursions now. She jogged nearly the entire length of the famous boulevard, arriving at l’Arc de Triomphe’s insane traffic circle drenched in perspiration. The long scarf she needed to survive the chilly tomb air was now balled up in her hand, useless. She dodged cars and taxis and buses, all honking at her to get out of the way as she darted into the center of the Place de l’Etoile, where the Arc stood.

  L’Arc de Triomphe was an enormous stone arch, built to commemorate the soldiers who’d fought in French wars. Napoleon had envisioned a testament to his armies that would rival those built in ancient Rome, and that was exactly the type of tribute he’d created. Walking through it was like walking through a temple. On any other night, Sherry would have been happy to marvel at its grand proportions, its exquisitely carved marble reliefs. But tonight her only thought was to find Lucas.

  She didn’t see him on either side of the arch. She ran through the center, past the giant, human-like sculptures of Resistance and Peace. Inside, she found Lucas bent over the eternal flame. It had been lit faithfully at 6:30 that evening, just as it was every night to honor the dead of both World Wars.

  She ran over and threw her arms around his neck.

  “Lucas.” He didn’t reply. “Lucas, look at me!” She took his head in her hands and pressed the sides of his face. “Lucas, please! What’s going on? What’s happened?”

  “I failed,” he whispered miserably. “I’m sorry, Sherry. I failed you. Us. I failed us.”

  “What do you mean? How did you fail? For God’s sake, Lucas, what are you talking about?”

  He looked down at her. His eyes were harder and shinier than usual, with even larger, darker circles resting beneath them.

  “I tried . . . tried to find a way. A way out. I had it all planned—” His voice broke, and tiny red-tinged rivulets ran over his cheeks. “We would leave in less than a week. We’d go to the States. I recently learned of some other vampires there who would help us, who might protect us. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to despair if it didn’t succeed. And it was going to succeed perfectly. I had it planned right down to the very last detail! But I was careless. Too trusting. I left my plans just . . . lying around. And Vasha came into my room, looking for something. I don’t even know what it was. Maybe she was lying. She probably suspected I was plotting, and she was merely looking for an excuse to snoop.”

  “That’s why you’ve been so distracted lately,” Sherry said softly.

  Lucas nodded, his eyes glazed over with pain. “Vasha found my correspondence with the other vampires. She took it to the Master. That evil wench!” He buried his face in
his hands.

  Sherry swallowed hard. “What are they going to do to us?”

  Lucas looked up. “To you? Likely nothing. It’s me they’re angry at—I’ll probably be punished, in some fashion or another. But that hardly matters now. I failed. It was our one chance at happiness, at freedom. And I failed us both.” He leaned against the wall and let out a low moan of agony.

  Sherry wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his chest. “We can’t give up now, Lucas. Not after all we’ve been through. Have you tried . . . talking to the Master? You know, telling him how you feel? Maybe if he cared about you he’d let us—”

  The vampire let out a sharp laugh. “Talk to him? Care about me? If only it were that simple. Sherry darling, the only thing that wretched man cares about is the people he can control. Subjugation and power are all he is interested in. If there’s anything I’ve learned in my hundreds of years of living in the House of Cadamon, it’s that. No, my love, it’s hopeless. Completely hopeless.”

  “Nothing is completely hopeless,” she whispered, and held him tighter.

  “I’m sorry to have to inform you that we’ll never get out now. All that’s left to do is resign ourselves to fate.” His voice sounded as hollow and empty as she’d ever heard it.

  She lifted her head. “No.”

  “No?”

  “That’s what I said. I’m not resigning myself to anything. I refuse to accept second-best. I won’t stop trying to find a way out of the House of Cadamon. Not while I’m convinced that a fantastical world awaits us above it. Not while I still live. Not while I still breathe. I simply refuse to do it.”