House of Cards (16 page)

“Why yes,” agreed Lucas. “I believe he did.”

“You know, I’ve often thought that if you were a . . . regular painter, you’d definitely have a place in here. I mean, you pretty much leave all these guys in the dust, art-wise.”

“I’m not sure I’d agree with you there, but I appreciate the sentiment,” he said with a wink.

They walked on a bit longer, but something was bothering Sherry. She sighed and stopped dead in her tracks. “Lucas, I have a confession to make.”

Lucas blinked. “You? A confession? My my, I wonder what it could be.” Apparently, he found the thought of her having anything to confess wildly amusing. “Have you been telling incorrect fortunes all this time?” His eyes were bright with mischief.

“Um, no, Lucas. Nothing like that. It’s just that I . . .” God, she really didn’t want to admit this.

He put his hands on her shoulders, and her heart soared towards the skylights. “Anything, Sherry.” The way he pronounced her name . . . she couldn’t tell if it was the French word for “dearie” or not. “You can tell me anything.”

“It’s just that I . . . I . . . I have no idea what you were talking about with the statue before.”

Lucas blinked again.

“With the artistry, and the flowing lines, and all that other stuff. I didn’t understand a word of it. I just thought the sculpture was kind of . . . you know. Sexy.”

The young vampire paused for a moment and took a step back, looking at her keenly. Then he laughed so hard, the marble floor almost vibrated, and Sherry thought the glass in the windows would shatter.

“You . . . just thought the . . . that it was . . .
sexy
?” Lucas was nearly doubled over now, his arms clutching his sides.

“I know, I know, it’s just that—” She wasn’t getting a word in edgewise, with his laughter echoing powerfully off the stone walls. Strange, the way it still sounded like music to her. She waited for him to finish.

“Ha, that’s—that’s the funniest damn thing I’ve ever heard.” He tried to catch his breath, and wiped tears across his sleeve.

“I just wanted you to think I really knew about art and life and stuff. The truth is, I’m sort of an idiot when it comes to those things.”

He looked straight at her, his smile filling every fiber in her body with an incredible warmth. “Sherry, you are definitely no fool when it comes to life. You’re one of the oldest, wisest souls I’ve met in a long time. As far as art, well, what difference does it make? It all comes with time, effort, and patience. And natural interest. You learned about Renoir, didn’t you?”

“Yes, well, I kind of had to. I had a book report due on Impressionism.”

That made Lucas start laughing all over again.

“Well,” he tried again to catch his breath, “I certainly hope you got an A. But you retained that information, didn’t you? And do you know why? Because it interested you. Because you saw in Renoir a part of yourself, perhaps. Or did you make all that up? About his life and the arthritis and the light and the shadow and everything?”

Sherry bristled at his last comment. “Of course not! All of that’s absolutely true! At least that’s what one of his biographies said . . . wait. You already knew it was true, didn’t you?” Lucas nodded and kept smiling. “Of course you knew. You could probably write truckloads of biographies on every artist here, couldn’t you?” She slapped her hand to her forehead. What had she been thinking? There wasn’t anything she could teach him, no information she could impart that he hadn’t already learned.

“Sexy.” He shook his head again. “You never cease to amaze me, Sherry. Always full of surprises.” That certainly came as a surprise to
her
. Hadn’t she just confirmed he already knew everything there was to know?

“You know what?” he said, taking her hand again with a wink. “I’ll bet the sculptor thought it was pretty sexy too.”

They made a quick stop to see the revolving collection of modern prints currently being exhibited. Sherry wasn’t a big fan of modern art, but it pleased her to see Lucas looking enrapt by today’s young artists. And it pleased her even more when he didn’t let go of her hand.

Her heart swelled to see him so at ease, fitting in naturally with his surroundings. He’d never been able to do that at Cadamon. He delighted in each new painting and sketch, thoroughly engrossed in the beauty all around him. Sherry was beginning to feel the same way. His happiness was her happiness.

Once again, Sherry found herself pretending that she was already a vampire, and Lucas’s consort. They had all the time in the world to explore the intricacies of art, and each other. They would always be as young and beautiful-seeming as the statues here, moving pieces of marble flowing effortlessly from one age to the next.

There was much more to explore, but it was nearly dawn. The incredible treasures housed here would take more than just one night to fully appreciate. Sherry got the impression that several lifetimes would be necessary before one could walk these halls and say they’d seen everything they needed to see at the Louvre.

Chapter 12—Confrontation

T
he fight occurred almost a
month later, just around Christmastime.

Sherry should have known it all along. The cards had been predicting it for weeks. But in her blissful state, thinking only of her evening of handholding with Lucas, she’d ignored them almost entirely. And she did so at her peril, she knew.

But things had been going so well
since that night at the Louvre. Lucas seemed distinctly happier, and it wasn’t just her imagination. Even the Master commented on it. And Lucas’s words and gestures were more and more of a romantic nature—lots of “honeys” and “sweethearts” sprinkled into his sentences, which set her heart alight. He hadn’t tried anything physical yet, though Sherry was eager to move beyond the handholding stage. She didn’t have anything to compare her desire to; she’d never felt anything like it. The underwater sensation that came when he touched her was like a deepening ocean current, pulling her to a wild, unknown shore.

She felt so wonderful that she hadn’t even been put off by Thomas’s lecherous glances, not the way she usually was. She just looked him straight in the eye and showed him he wasn’t going to get to her. Which only seemed to piss him off, but she was confident she could handle it.

What she almost couldn’t handle was the constant attention Lucas showered on her. It was even more than before, and Sherry hadn’t thought that was possible.

First, there was the Thanksgiving Day feast, just as she was hungering for comfort food, as well as time with her family and friends. Of course, he had to improvise a bit with the selection, since there was no Thanksgiving on this side of the Atlantic. But he came through beautifully, as usual. Butternut squash soup, garnished with apple rings. Cheese and garlic mashed potatoes, proudly prepared by Lucas himself. Although a turkey had been hard to come by, he’d made do with a skillfully cooked pair of Cornish hens. And Sherry was so full from the mountains of other side dishes that it made a perfect excuse not to eat the main course. She didn’t want to tell Lucas how the hens looked like tiny sleeping lovebirds. Otherwise, it was the best Thanksgiving she’d ever had, because she spent it with him.

Then there were the everyday indulgences, which she’d warned him against, for fear of spoiling her silly. Like tonight.

“Champagne? Again? What’s the special occasion?” she asked as Lucas pulled the expensive bottle out of an ice bucket and started to uncork it. What a shame that he couldn’t join her in the libation. “Are we celebrating some vampire holiday that I don’t know about?”

“Well, it
is
the holiday season,” he replied as the cork popped and champagne started flowing out of the bottle. He began pouring her a flute-full. “And you are the special occasion. Every night with you is a celebration. Because you never know when it will end.”

It was as if he’d accidentally said the last sentence out loud. He stopped mid-pour to look at her, then quickly turned his attention back to the champagne.

She decided to turn his statement into something funny. “Yes, every night’s a celebration with Madame Sherry. Wait—no. That sounds like an advertisement for a hooker.”

A little laugh erupted from him, and she was glad her joke went over well.

“And why’d you get me more flowers?” she asked, taking the glass from his hand with an appreciative nod. “As if I don’t already have enough.” She gestured to the dozens of bouquets that dotted the room. There were no vases of any kind elsewhere in the House; they’d all been moved to Sherry’s room. Explosions of blooms poured forth from every corner of the suite: roses and stargazer lilies, gerbera daisies and tulips, orchids and gardenias. It smelled like a perfectly appointed royal garden.

“The reason for the flowers? Oh, I don’t know. It’s something living, I suppose.”

“You couldn’t have scrounged up a puppy?” She took a long drink of champagne.

“Well, you do have me.” He pouted and made pretend dog ears, holding his fingers above his temples.

She laughed and pointed at a footstool. “Sit, then.” He sat. “Good boy.”

“Shall I offer you my paw next? Or play dead? I’m especially good at playing dead.”

“No, that won’t be necessary, Fido. Not tonight, anyway.”

“
Fido
? Good lord, I’ve created a monster. At least don’t chain me outside in a doghouse in this weather, if you please.”

“Don’t be bad, and I’ll have no reason to punish you.” This was fun, she thought. Almost like a normal human relationship. She finished the champagne and set the glass down.

Would that change if he turned her into a vampire? Did vampires flirt with each other? Peter and Adrian seemed to. Maybe if Lucas and she were a couple, he’d be happy like this all the time. It would take his mind off—

Killing. He’d still have to kill. And so would she, because of the Master’s relentless need for control.

Sherry tried to shake the thought from her head. “It’s time for your reading,” she said in a businesslike manner, sitting on the floor beside the footstool. She knew how Lucas hated to have his future told in front of the others, and for some indulgent reason, the Master didn’t force him to. She placed the cards in his lap, watching as he shuffled them. It never failed to amaze her, how graceful he was. As usual, he picked the top three cards and waited for her interpretation.

“Hmmm . . . Two of Cups. Signifying the beginning of an exciting relationship.” She looked up at him, and they both smiled.

“Next card . . . huh. Five of Wands. Petty struggles, power plays. A great deal of fighting for little gain. That’s strange.”

And there it was again, just as it had been in her own recent readings, the ones she never shared with the group. It stared up at her with its evil, perverse grin.

The Devil.

“Well, that can’t be good,” Lucas said quietly.

“It’s nothing.” Sherry picked up the cards quickly and put them back in their box. She snapped the lid shut a little too hard. “Sometimes the cards are wrong. It may just mean . . . oh, I don’t know. A minor annoyance or something.”

But Sherry knew the Devil symbolized more than that. It was an evil presence—either of one’s own making, or kept alive by outside forces. A vicious, malevolent figure whose only joy was causing others pain. She tried not to think about it as she stole a last look at the gorgeous flowers, then left to accompany Lucas to the Great Hall for the next group reading.

“Ah, I see the evening’s entertainment is here.” The Master’s eyes sparkled with dark delight as the elder vampire sat down beside her in an easy, familiar fashion. It was one that made Sherry wildly anxious and uncomfortable. She could feel her palms start to go clammy.

“So, my dear, how are you enjoying the city?” inquired the Master, sidling up a little too closely. Sherry didn’t know which she was more afraid of—having his fangs a hair’s-breadth away from her throat, or to risk seeming rude and angering him by inching away. In the end, she decided to be brave and stay where she was.

“From what I understand about living in France,” he continued, “and in Paris especially, mortals take special enjoyment in the cuisine. They enjoy it, savor it. They let the exquisite tastes linger on their tongues . . .” His eyes seemed to linger over her body as he spoke.

“Yes, that’s true,” she said with a forced smile. “It’s different in the States. We always eat in such a hurry, there’s barely a moment to enjoy anything.”

“How fortunate, then, that you are here in our fair city!” He lowered his voice just enough to turn her blood to ice. “How fortunate you’ve come to stay with us. For now . . .”

“We’re all assembled, my lord,” called Gavin from the far end of the table. Sure enough, when Sherry managed to tear her eyes away from the Master, all the other vampires (with the typical exception of Vasha) were seated and ready to begin. On her right-hand side sat Lucas, who gave an encouraging smile. Clara waved her hand delicately in greeting.

“Right, then.” Sherry cleared her throat and opened her card box. “Who’s first?”

***

After all the other readings had been done, the only questioners left were the Master and Thomas. “After you, Sire,” smiled Thomas. His face reminded Sherry of oil puddles she saw when accompanying her father to the auto mechanic’s.

Almost invisibly, the Master drew the cards from where Gavin had been holding them last. For the hundredth time that night, Sherry wished the leader was not sitting so close to her.

She turned over his cards and momentarily closed her eyes. The same three. Always the same three.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing new here, Sir,” she said apologetically. “The Tower, the Seven of Swords, and the Five of Pentacles. Perhaps if we—”

“Perhaps if we set those cards aside,” the Master interrupted with a smile, never taking his eyes off hers, “we might achieve a different outcome. May I choose another triad?”

“Sure. Go ahead,” Sherry replied, a little too cheerfully.

He did, and Sherry turned the cards over.

The Chariot, the Queen of Swords, and Judgment. Jesus.

“Well, these are new.” The Master seemed pleased. “Pray tell, what is their meaning for me?”

“Well, several of these cards we’ve seen before,” Sherry replied hesitantly. Although she meant they’d come up in other readings for the group, the Master could not have known she’d seen them before in regard to both herself and Lucas. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

“The Chariot indicates a struggle. It could be emotional, the battle between two minds, or two different parts of the self. Or it might mean a physical fight, possibly very violent.”

She briefly explained the Queen of Swords and Judgment. The Master seemed satisfied with the explanation, and allowed Thomas to draw his three cards.

“The Five of Wands,” Sherry began. “Petty struggles, power plays, tussles—”

A short burst of laughter erupted from Thomas. A few chairs down, Sherry saw Gavin smiling, shaking his head from side to side. Clara rolled her eyes.

“Thomas enjoys a good tussle now and again, don’t you, Thomas?” the mathematician said, causing another fit of laughter from both.