House of Cards (25 page)

“Vampires do not change, silly girl. Not our faces, or our bodies, or our minds. We are immortal. We are
eternal
.”

She backed up until she hit the piano. She’d have to go around it to run out of the room, and that meant heading nearer to the homicidal vampire in front of her. Not that she could move fast enough to escape. Even if she managed to get back to her room, he’d easily break down the door, or use his telekinetic powers to lift the bar across—

Powers.
Her
telekinesis. Maybe she could use it to distract him, or confuse him. Anything to buy more time. He obviously wasn’t interested in talking anymore: he’d already made that clear. If only there was something in the room she could use as a weapon. The fireplace had gone cold; she couldn’t even set anything ablaze to destroy him. Why the hell hadn’t she come up with a plan before this?

She looked up. The arming sword above the fireplace. The one the Master had used to slaughter hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent people in the name of his god. The sword he’d brandished while separating precious lives from the endless possible futures that awaited them. The Master had his back to the fireplace. He wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing.

She needed to lift that sword. And she needed to do it now.

God, why hadn’t she practiced more? Why had she let her mental and psychic powers grow so weak? She tried to lift the sword the tiniest inch without taking her eyes off the Master, lest he suspect what she was doing. To lift an item without looking at it was difficult enough, let alone the impossibly heavy sword that she’d never managed to move before. But she had to try. It was her only hope.

The chill upon her skin had been transformed. Now Sherry felt as if she were on fire. She was breathing so hard she sounded like an old, sick dog. Her lungs wouldn’t fill with air quickly enough, and her heart beat so fast she was certain it was going to explode.

With his keen senses, the Master must have sensed her distress. But he ignored it as if nothing were happening. He took one last step towards her and moved his hands to lift up her hair—just like before. Sherry sucked in her breath and clenched her fists and narrowed her eyes at the sword for all she was worth.

Suddenly, several things seemed to happen at once. The first thing she noticed was Lucas. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the parlor door burst open and him stumble into the room. To Sherry’s surprise and delight, his face looked absolutely perfect, although she couldn’t see the rest of his body. It was covered by clothing. But he didn’t appear to have lost any limbs or fingers—or eyes. They still shone as beautifully as ever, as beautifully as the rest of him. The girl’s blood—that unfortunate girl—must have healed him completely.

The next thing was that the Master turned to look at him. It distracted the elder vampire for only a fraction of a second. He didn’t see Sherry concentrating on the sword. He didn’t see it fly off the mantle.

And by the time he saw it coming towards him, he was too late. Sherry swung it downwards with all her mind and all her might, and neatly cleaved his evil head from his shoulders. It flew into the empty fireplace. The rest of the body sank to its knees before falling on one side, never to rise again. The sword spun in a circle several times and hit the wall with a loud crash. Then the weapon, too, was still.

It didn’t take long for the other vampires to hear the commotion, and everything seemed to happen in a whirlwind after that.

Gavin was the first to enter the room from behind Lucas. His eyes grew wide as they fell upon the Master’s headless body.

“What the devil happened in here?” he cried.

The rest of the House was not far behind. Adrian hid his face in Peter’s chest when he saw his former leader dead on the floor. Peter glared murderously at Sherry as he tried to comfort his beloved. They must have known it was she, not Lucas, who killed the Master. After all, she was the one standing closest to the body, and the sword.

Clara sank to the floor, her voluminous skirts pooling in a circle. She shed no tears but pressed her palms to one another in front of her lips, watching the scene unfold with an odd fascination.

Vasha tried to strangle Sherry with her bare hands.

“Wait—wait!” Lucas cried as he grabbed Vasha from behind, struggling as she twisted and snarled in his arms. Sherry ran behind the piano, away from the enraged siren who’d been reaching for her throat. Instinctively, her eyes darted around the floor until they found the sword. She tried lifting it again, but it was too heavy, and she was exhausted. All she could manage was a little clattering as the metal blade tapped against the wall.

But Vasha didn’t know that. She saw the sword move. She saw Sherry looking at it. Realization dawned that perhaps this was one girl she shouldn’t have crossed. The vampire stared in awe and hatred at the mortal who’d brought an end to her Master. All eyes were on Sherry.

They didn’t know she had no strength left to lift the sword very high. She had only one chance to intimidate them into not killing her. She’d have to muster every last ounce of her strength. But she didn’t feel as afraid as before. She felt almost . . . proud. She’d killed a monster. She’d really done it. It was all her.

She telekinetically lifted the sword half a meter off the ground and let it drop with a satisfying clang. Then she stared Vasha dead in the eye, the faintest smile on her lips.

The red-haired vampire looked at Sherry nervously, retracting her arms and wrestling out of Lucas’s grasp. She stumbled over to the rest of her group and stood with them, looking with concern from one to the other. Clara rose from the floor and brushed imaginary dust off her skirts. Adrian had stopped crying, if he’d really been crying. Peter placed an arm around his shoulder, brow furrowed. Gavin stood in front with arms folded, his expression impossible to read. Sherry stared defiantly at them all, her chin jutted out just a bit, her gaze never breaking with theirs.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

It was Lucas who finally did. “We’re leaving,” he announced loudly, walking towards her, encircling her waist with his arm. “Sherry and I. I’m sure you all know that you are welcome to do the same. But you shouldn’t try to detain us, if that is your wish. You see what happens to those who do.” He nodded towards the Master, blood flowing freely from the hole where his head should have been.

Gavin was the first of the group to say anything.

“That sounds very . . . decisive.”

“Yes, it rather does, doesn’t it?” A tiny smile played on the corner of Lucas’s mouth. Was it Sherry’s imagination, or was he enjoying what appeared to be discomfort on Gavin’s part? Served him right, the evil torturer.

“We’ll . . . we’ll stop you.” Adrian broke away from Peter’s arms and stood in front of the others. “We won’t let you get away with this.” His voice broke just slightly on the last word.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” said Sherry, finally finding her own voice. “I’ve already killed once tonight. I’d hate to have to do it again, but hey,” she shrugged, “it’s your call.” She looked one more time at the bloody sword, and rattled it again for good measure.

Peter stepped forward and put his hand on Adrian’s arm. Adrian looked at his lover’s hand, then into his eyes. He slowly backed away.

They watched in silence as Lucas and Sherry went through the parlor door to the hall, where they quickly collected a few essentials from her room. Lucas’s bag was already packed and in his quarters—he’d prepared it before Vasha exposed his plan to the Master. It was easy to run back in and retrieve it before moving the heavy stone that covered the exit door.

As Lucas and Sherry descended the cold, hard steps for the last time, the other vampires were already arguing about who would become the next leader of the House of Cadamon.

Chapter 20—Leaving

T
he first thing Sherry noticed
was that sounds were crisper. She could hear each step that pedestrians took on the sidewalk—click-click, click-click—so perfectly, as if her ears had just started working after a long period of deafness. Colors were brighter too, even in the darkness an hour before dawn. The few vehicles that passed by at this time of night were swift-moving patches of reds, blues, and greens. And the lights of Paris themselves—car lights, streetlights, illuminated windows—were so dazzling, it felt like they would blind her. She was walking directly into the sun, and was not burned.

The air seemed different above ground this time as well. It smelled cleaner, sweeter. More free. She didn’t know about Lucas, but her own senses felt much sharper, possibly because of the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Being out of that hell for good made every simple thing all the more glorious. When she inhaled deeply, Sherry could almost taste their liberty, an elixir of life to one thought long dead.

She drank it all in, the gorgeous springtime night in the most beautiful city in the world, with her lover at her side. Even he looked different tonight. She’d never seen him so happy, so . . .
alive
. His entire face was lit up, seemingly from the inside. There was such a spring in his step it was almost as if he were dancing. He smiled constantly, especially when looking at Sherry, and squeezed her hand so tightly she’d had to break free and flex her fingers. Just to make sure they still worked.

And the kisses. Oh, the kisses. All those she’d been waiting for and more were showered upon her. These were different than the hesitant, watchful embraces they’d shared before. Afraid of the Master. Afraid of their feelings for each other. Afraid they’d never be free. But with the release of all those fears came an avalanche of passion, all the joy and ecstasy they thought they’d never have.

And much to her surprise, Lucas seemed impressed, not repelled, when he found out she had telekinetic powers. Although he did want to know how she managed to keep them a secret for so long—a matter he said they’d discuss on the next train out of Paris.

“Lucas, where
are
we going?” she asked, as he pulled her arm in the direction of the nearest Métro stop. It would have been too obvious to take the underground route through the tombs, even though there really was no reason to come above ground to escape. The Métro ran all alongside that enormous underground graveyard. But for them to appear randomly there, where there was no entrance from the tombs to be seen, would have raised too much suspicion as to how they arrived.

The tombs. Those horrid, filthy catacombs, and the House of Cadamon within them. Despite the vampires’ lair being filled with magnificent opulence, both were places of death, despair, and the wholesale slaughter of innocence. Sherry was never going back there. She was sure it wasn’t on Lucas’s list of places in Paris to visit again either.

“We’re going to Palaiseau, my love. It’s just outside the city. It’s where I was supposed to contact the American vampires from, anyway. So it’s perfect, you see. We’ll get there just before dawn, and stay at the little house I rented.”

“What about after that?”

“Well, we could go back to your home—America. That is, if you’re willing. I’ve never actually been there.”

That sounded fine to Sherry. Anywhere was better than the House of Cadamon, and could only be improved by the addition of Lucas. She smiled at the thought of calling her father and his girlfriend from the States, telling them she’d run off with “some guy.”

“That settles it,” Sherry said brightly. “Tomorrow night, we make plans to go across the sea!”

She was a bit sad to leave Paris, now that she and Lucas were finally free to enjoy it. But she understood the necessity. Lucas needed a break from the city that, before Sherry came, held nothing but ghastly memories. It was also probably a wise idea to put some distance between themselves and the other House members. Sherry figured running into them on the streets might be awkward at best, or worse, a catalyst for violence. Especially since Vasha seemed like such a loose cannon. There would be other wonderful places for them to explore and enjoy. And who was to say they wouldn’t return one day? Maybe when things had settled down, they’d make a new home in the city where they’d met. Anywhere Lucas was felt like home to Sherry. It didn’t really matter where they were on the map.

As the train pulled up to their stop, Lucas turned to Sherry with a concerned look in his eyes.

“Sherry, you don’t have to do this, you know.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to do this. Run away with me. If you like, you’re free to go. Return to your old life. None of the other vampires in the House would be foolish enough to come after you now.”

“Really?” Sherry felt confused. “Why would they be foolish? I’d thought they’d be pretty mad. They seemed mad. I mean, I doubt they’d come up here right now and try to murder us. We’re in a rather public place. But I killed their leader. Vasha was crazy about him—you saw how angry she was. Clara was upset as well—I think. Adrian was crying—sort of. And Gavin . . . Lucas, Gavin frightens me. He was the calmest of them all, and somehow, that’s more terrifying than anything else. He was almost
serene
. Like the Master’s death hardly bothered him at all. Why is that?”

“Gavin has always been less emotional than the others. Part of it is his nature. Part of it was because of the arguing you saw before we left. I believe that he always secretly wanted the title of ‘Master’ for himself. The death of such a leader would mean only one thing to him.”

“Absolute power.”

“Precisely. Mourning or affectation would not be high on his list of priorities right now,” said Lucas wryly. “In fact, I’m sorry to say that empathy has never been a distinctive quality of my race, though that naturally depends upon the individual. You observed how quickly their tears of anguish dried, how they began to argue over who would be the next leader? The Master’s body hadn’t even turned cold yet! No, Sherry, I think you’d be surprised at how little life means to them, even one of their own kind.”