House of Cards (20 page)

“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 opened 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

I
t 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.

No. It would be different with Lucas. He wasn’t like that. It was only being under the Master’s yoke that made him a monster. He was a good person at heart. And she would be too, if she shared his form. They could live out their lives together—their eternal lives—remaining true to themselves and their principles.

Paris at night, from on high, was nothing short of breathtaking. It wasn’t just the blanket of stars that lay on the ground in the form of twinkling electric lights. It was the colors within them: shadowy reds, deep blues, velvet purples. It was like peeking at the underside of heaven, and marveling at its dark, strange beauty. Although the irony of standing above a church did not escape her. Atop this estate of supreme holiness sat two individuals held in thrall by the most powerful evil she had ever heard of.

“Tell me, my love, exactly why you felt the need to come here?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She shivered, even in her down parka, as Lucas wrapped his arms around her from behind. Being a vampire, his body temperature didn’t do much to help her at the moment. Still, being so close to him was enough to get what little blood she had whizzing around. “I just felt the need to look at Paris. All of it. While I was still . . . here.”

They gazed in silence for a few minutes at the stunning scene before them. Then Lucas spoke.

“So, are there any questions you want to ask me? About being immortal?”

Sherry glanced over her shoulder at him with a puzzled expression.

“No, no—I know there must be things you wonder about me, about our kind. Especially after what just happened to you. You’ve been very gracious these past few months—you won’t pose questions that you think would cause me pain. But you’re only human; there must be some things you’re just
dying
to know. So, what are they? Do you wish to understand what mortal blood tastes like to us? What it feels like to watch everyone you know grow old and die? How we can take innocent lives night after night, and yet carry on as if nothing had happened?”

Sherry thought for a moment, looking up at the inky night above them, with its dimmed and muted stars.

“What did the sky look like when there were no electric lights?”

“Excuse me?”

“What did it look like? I hear that with all the modern light pollution, it’s hard to see the stars in the city as they once were. I’ll bet they shone brilliantly. They must have been absolutely dazzling.”

“Yes. Yes, they were.”

“What does it feel like to fly? I’ve always wanted to fly—I mean, without someone carrying me, not that I’m not grateful. What is it really like?”

“Well, in dreams flying is always associated with a feeling of weightlessness, of unimaginable freedom. Yet that is something you acclimate yourself to rather quickly, when you are capable of doing it all the time. What I never tire of is the change in perspective, in point of view. I can rise above the city, invisible to mortals, as you know, and it never ceases to amaze me how different everything looks. Highway lights stretch into glowing rivers. And beyond them, when the moon shines from in between the clouds, I can see the hills and mountains, all leading to the sea. Sometimes it even makes me a little dizzy.”

“It comforts me to know how large the world is, that there is something beyond the Master and the macabre prison he holds us in. It is one of the few times in my life when I allow myself to feel . . . hopeful.”

Sherry knew, right then and there, that she would become immortal for Lucas if he asked her to. If he wanted to spend his life with her. Even if it meant becoming a killer while they were under the Master’s sway. If it was the only way to weld herself to him for as long as they existed, she would bear watching others suffer and die at her hands. Not any longer than necessary, of course. Only until they could break free of the House of Cadamon once and for all.

She could say goodbye to everything she’d ever known. Her parents, her old friends, the few new ones she’d made. Before, she had wondered how it could be possible, to cut the threads that bound her to that world. Now she understood that the majority of it, her old life, had been a slow and painful march towards death. Ever since Kaileen died, Sherry had been unable to let go of the past, or form a new future in her mind. It was like someone had blotted out the sun, leaving her universe pitch black. She’d almost forgotten the memory of light, until Lucas lit a match and sat beside her in the unending darkness.

He understood. He’d fought with death for hundreds of years, sometimes winning, sometimes not. But he knew how she felt, to comprehend a loss of life that was total and complete. And because he was the only one who did, he was the sole person with whom she could share every other human experience. There would be no other.

“Lucas, do you ever think what would happen if . . . if I became like you?”

And there it was. The question hung in the air, a heavy blade about to fall. The closest she’d ever come to asking him for immortality.

“Yes, Sherry,” he whispered to her. “I think about that all the time.”

“And? What
do
you think?”

Lucas sighed. “That it would be wonderful. That it would be terrible. That the Master would never allow it. He does not see you as having any special abilities, your psychic powers notwithstanding. Why he does not consider that an amazing talent, I will never be able to understand. But if things were different, Sherry, and it was within my power, and your desire, I’d have made you my companion long ago. We could live our lives as we chose, not having to kill, and doing nothing with these unending nights except loving each other.”

And there it was. She had her answer. It was exactly what she’d secretly hoped for, and yet devastating. Because the Master was still in the way.

As the miraculous snow began to fall on them in soft, gentle flakes, Sherry couldn’t help but think of all that was still coming between her and Lucas. Still preventing them from living the life on high that they dreamed of. Needed. Deserved.

***

Sherry’s strength was all but exhausted by the weary trudge back to the House. Lucas had offered to carry her, but she hated feeling like a helpless weakling any more than she already did. When they finally arrived, Peter and Adrian were nowhere to be found. No doubt they’d wisely decided to avoid invoking Lucas’s ire again.

“Wait,” Lucas said, before Sherry turned down the hall to her suite. “I have something I want to give you. I think I dropped it in the parlor when I—when Peter—anyway, wait here and I’ll get it.”

But Sherry didn’t feel safe all alone in the hall. Although Lucas assured her that the other vampires were occupied with a game of billiards, she asked to wait by his room while he retrieved the surprise. Somehow, her room didn’t feel quite safe yet either. All it would take was another knock at the door, and she would open it, expecting Lucas, and . . .

After Lucas left, Sherry began to get very nervous, just standing outside his room in the dark. Silly of Lucas to forget that she wasn’t (yet) a vampire, and wouldn’t be able to see without a candle. She took the liberty of feeling around for the doorknob, and managed to enter his bedchamber. She slowly made her way to the nightstand, where she’d seen matches and a taper many times before. Striking a light, she gazed at the familiar surroundings, astonished by what met her eyes.

Sketches. Hundreds and hundreds of sketches of her, strewn all over his bed.

Sketches of her sitting, reclining, and standing. Smiling and frowning. Sleeping and waking. Most were charcoal, his usual medium. But there were a few skillfully done watercolor paintings as well.

She picked up each one by one, touching them gingerly. She questioned whether she should be frightened or flattered by the attention he paid her in order to draw them. It was also oddly embarrassing to see so many likenesses of herself, though they all showed her in a very becoming light. In the end, she simply admired his work, marveling at the time and patience it had taken to complete.

Someone cleared his throat behind her. Of course Lucas would be standing right there.

“Oh, um, sorry, I was just—”

“In my room. Without my permission.”

“In your room. Right. I mean, wrong. I know it’s wrong to invade your privacy. I just wanted a light, see, and the door was open—”

“Unlocked. The door was
unlocked
, Sherry.”

“I know. Unlocked. Which is sort of like open, when you really think about it . . .” Her voice drifted off. It sounded like a pathetic excuse, even to her. “I’m sorry. It’s just that when I came in, and I saw them all here . . .” She gestured to the pictures on the bed.

“I see.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or not. “Do you . . . like them?”

Sherry was taken aback. “Like them? Of course I like them! They’re wonderful! The only flaw is that they’re all filled with images of me.”

That made him smile. “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I rather enjoy looking at you.”

“Ah. I knew there was something sick about you.”

The corners of his mouth turned up again, just slightly, as he began gathering the sketches. “I don’t know if I was ever going to show them to you. Not all of them, anyway. I thought, perhaps, that I was getting dangerously close to stalker territory. Unhealthy levels of obsession and all.”

“No, I understand. You wanted to do as many as possible in case you needed something to . . .”

They looked at one another. Sherry gave a forced smile.

“To remember me by.”

“Yes.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Then he inhaled sharply and cleared his throat. “And now, if you don’t mind, I would like to give
you
something. To remember me by. Just in case . . . just in case we are parted, and you . . .”

“Manage to stay alive somehow?”

“Yes, er, well, yes.” He reached into his back pocket and handed her a dark blue, ribboned package the size of her palm.

“Really, Lucas, you’ve already given me so much. You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. It’s the least I can offer you.”

She handed her candle to Lucas and slowly undid the pale cream ribbon. Lifting the top, she gasped at the exquisite gold necklace it covered. Resting on a tiny bed of silk was a gilded bird in a cage, its throat open, as if it could burst into song at any moment. It was so finely crafted, she could make out patterns in the bird’s plumage, if she looked closely enough. The door of the miniature cage even swung completely open.

There were tears in her eyes when she looked up at Lucas.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you. I’ll wear it always.” He smiled with tender satisfaction as he reached around her neck to fasten the clasp.

“I was going to give it to you for Christmas, but after all that’s happened, well . . .”

“Why wait?”

“Precisely.”

“No, this is perfect. I’m so glad you gave it to me when you did.”

“My only regret is that the bird can’t fly out and escape, as I’m certain she longs to.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Sherry. “I fully expect she’ll find a way one of these days.”

She wrapped her arms around Lucas’s waist.

“Maybe she’ll even bring a friend with her,” she said, and pulled him closer for a long, passionate kiss.