House of Cards (22 page)

“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

J
ust 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 okay. 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.

“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.”