House of Cards (8 page)

She was surprised at how easy it had been to talk to him. Shouldn’t she naturally be frightened of his predator instincts? In fact, in all the months she’d been on her own in Paris, she’d never fallen into that kind of immediate familiarity with anyone, not even the other fortune-tellers. It had taken weeks of conversation to build the kind of kinship with them that she’d felt just now with Lucas.

Could she mean something more than just another meal to him? Was that why he treated her differently? Was he thinking of her as a potential companion? Sherry didn’t know how she felt about the possibility. From what she’d seen of vampires, their lifestyle wasn’t exactly attractive. Having to live underground . . . or maybe that was just this particular group. She had no proof that was how they all lived.

Certainly, the vampires themselves were more than attractive. Beautiful, even. Their flawless white skin. Their enormously strong and fast bodies. The graceful ease with which they mastered telekinesis and mind-reading. Best of all, to Sherry, the fact that they never had to grow old and die. Never had to know the terror she’d felt in the catacombs, or the lesser fear she was experiencing now.

What if Lucas was the one who “turned her,” or whatever the expression was? That would mean being close to him. He’d probably have to drink her blood. Which would mean putting his lips to her throat. It would almost be like kissing, with Sherry lying in his arms . . . The strange, dark appeal of it surprised her.

Drinking blood. That would be a problem. Especially if it meant killing people. Sherry didn’t think she could bear the look of fear in a victim’s eyes, the panicked mortals struggling uselessly against her iron grasp. It was enough to make her sick. But if it was the only way to stay alive down here, to become one of them? Could she overcome her fear and disgust, especially if it meant Lucas would be her maker? Maybe there were other ways to satisfy bloodlust, ones that didn’t involve hurting people.

Well, that was neither here nor there for the moment. She wasn’t a vampire, and no one was offering to make her one. Best to just focus on staying alive as a human for now.

When she emerged from the bathroom, a gorgeous silk robe lay on the bed. A deep rose color, it covered a matching slip and panties. She recognized the label from one of the most expensive shops in Paris.

The lingerie was truly beautiful, but impractical. For one thing, it was much too nice to wear just for herself—unless Lucas was trying to give her a hint of some kind? No, he seemed to be a gentleman. Maybe he thought she was used to wearing this type of nighttime apparel at home? She snorted. Not likely. Ratty old tee shirts were more her style. The second drawback to such skimpy clothing was that she would probably freeze in her sleep, and all they’d find eight hours later was her icy cold corpse. Which would sadden no one but Lucas.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to try it on. She did, and then studied herself in the mirror. Somehow, she looked like a French model. No wonder undergarments like this cost so much. Apparently, they had the ability to give you an entirely different body, complete with every purchase. Just like the knit dress, the items were a perfect fit.

Okay, that was a little disturbing. She didn’t want to think about how Lucas found out the size of her intimate . . . anything.

But she was suddenly too exhausted to think about that. Yawning and stretching her arms behind her head, she pushed the ten thousand pillows off the bed, careful not to move them towards the fire. Which she should probably put out. Although it was tempting to let it keep burning in order to heat the room, she knew it could easily spread, and she’d already risked death more than once tonight.

When the last of the flames had been extinguished, she peeled back the heavy down comforter and slipped between the sleekest satin sheets she’d ever felt. A thought passed through her drowsy mind that satin didn’t make any sense in the winter-like conditions down here. But she was so tired, and they felt so good against her skin, that she barely cared. Actually, she was surprised at just how warm it was beneath the covers, even with the thin sheets. Must be the comforter. All mortals should give up central heating just so they could enjoy downy quilts like this one. It was the last thought she had as her body surrendered to a well-deserved rest.

Chapter 7—Getting Acquainted

S
herry spent most of the
next day looking for a way to escape.

So far she had found nothing. Well, she’d found many interesting rooms, including the entrance to the vampires’ quarters (through the drawing room). There was also a music room, a billiard room, and a room filled with exotic birds, among others. But she still couldn’t find the passage that led back into the main catacombs. It was likely behind one of the many locked doors she’d quietly tried to open.

There were no telephones besides her cell, which of course was useless. With no electricity or computers, she was unable to e-mail her parents, or anyone else she knew. Not that they would believe she’d been kidnapped by vampires anyway. Her predicament sounded ridiculous, even to her.

At one point, Sherry paused in her search to lean the back of her head against a corridor wall. She tried to stop the tears from running down her cheeks, but they kept coming. Her shoulders shook as she realized she might never see her parents again, or any of her friends. She’d spent so much time convincing her folks that she was a “free spirit,” she could take care of herself, she needed her space, et cetera, so would they please stop checking up on her all the time? Now that she’d been kidnapped, it was all backfiring. Sherry felt like kicking herself.

These days, she hardly ever saw her family. Mom was in the States, busy with work. Dad was in Provence, busy with his girlfriend. And her high school friends were off at university, or engaged, or traveling Europe. And although she knew one or two psychics in the square, like Tierra, she wasn’t close to any of them. They’d never even exchanged e-mail addresses or phone numbers. No one in her life had any reason to look that hard for her.

Sherry grabbed the sides of her head in frustration, then stopped. She knew from previous experience that the only result would be a migraine. Instead, she closed her eyes, dried her cheeks, and tried to think. She forced herself to take deep breaths. She even gave a tiny, ironic smile at the absurdity of it all.

So vampires really did exist. Huh. It had thrown Sherry off at first, but the idea wasn’t entirely outside the realm of believability. As a psychic, she had experience with otherworldly phenomena. She had long been open-minded about the existence of supernatural creatures, (although she wished she wasn’t their prisoner at the moment).

Her mind settled instead on Lucas. Maybe she could convince him to help her escape. She needed to find a way to be alone with him when he and his companions awoke. Her digital watch informed her that it was still daytime; she had about an hour until the others rose. Upon waking that morning, she had found a fire already blazing away in the fireplace. In fact, it had been a bit
too
warm under the covers. She sat up and found herself smiling. Lucas. That was sweet of him. He must have fought his drug-like sleep just so she could be warm.

And well-fed. Her breakfast had been on the round table, already laid out for her. It was light, in the typical French fashion, but after such an enormous dinner, that was all she had room for. Two croissants and a hot chocolate, the most delicious she’d ever tasted. Except for the constant threat of a violent death, she’d thought, a girl could get used to this.

After failing to find an escape route, she spent her last free hour practicing telekinesis. Perhaps it was the constant possibility of imminent death that increased her fear factor, and suddenly made moving things much easier. Or maybe being around so many intensely magical creatures struck up some kind of psychic change in her brain. Regardless, she was definitely having less difficulty using her powers. So far, she’d managed to lift a wineglass, a shampoo bottle, and her own hair with very little effort.

In the middle of her attempt to move a chair at least three centimeters, she heard a knock at the door.

“It’s me. Lucas.”

A smile crept onto Sherry’s face, and she put the chair down. “Come in!”

Sure enough, the bar across the door lifted slowly, and in walked the handsome young man.

“How did you sleep? I was worried you might not be warm enough, so I made a fire just before I thought you might awaken.”

“That was very thoughtful of you.”

“I will do the same every day, if you wish.”

“Oh, Lucas.” Sherry couldn’t help herself. She playfully threw one of the smaller pillows at him. “You’re too much!”

Lucas picked up the poorly-aimed cushion and looked at it, as if unsure of how to interpret her statement.

“Yes, well, ah, one oversight of mine was that you might suffer from ennui during your stay here. I apologize for not providing any entertainment while the rest of us slept. With your permission, I’d like to remedy that now.”

This guy really
was
too much. He’d saved her life, spoiled her rotten, and now he felt guilty for failing to prevent boredom?

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She waved her hand breezily, resolving to put on a brave face no matter what the future held. She would not let the vampires—any of them—see her look upset again. “I was exploring most of the day. I sang to the birds, and even got in a few games of pool. Which I won, of course.”

Lucas gave her a gracious smile. “Naturally. Please. Come with me.” He gestured toward the hallway.

“Right, just a minute. Have to use the, uh, ladies’ room.”

She did a quick check, brushing her hair and adding a few touches of makeup. She wanted to look especially good when she asked for his help. Maybe he’d be more apt to take pity on someone he found attractive? A silly thought, but it was worth a try. It was probably best to still stay away from the perfumes. She didn’t want to smell good enough to
eat
. At the last minute, she changed her mind, and sprayed a hint of fragrance on her wrist. A touch of amber and musk, but nothing too strong. That should do it. Hopefully the effect indicated something pleasant, but stopped short of edible.

If Lucas noticed a change in her looks or scent, he said nothing about it. He led her silently down the candlelit hall. Sherry should have been frightened, walking with him in the darkness, but instead found it a thrilling experience. She could almost pretend that no one else lived here. It was just the two of them, with an underground palace all to themselves.

The walk ended too soon. They were standing in front of an oak door with a rounded frame, one she hadn’t noticed earlier.

The young vampire cleared his throat and glanced down at Sherry.

“Well, don’t you ‘clean up nice,’ as the expression goes.”

So he
had
noticed she’d fixed her hair and makeup. And maybe he even liked the perfume.

“Thanks. I’ve been toileting myself for over sixteen years,” she joked. “Speaking of cleaning, how
do
things get clean around here, Lucas? I can’t imagine you guys on your hands and knees, polishing and scrubbing the floors, yet everything looks spotless. And I didn’t see a maid, unless . . .” Sherry didn’t want to say “unless you ate her.”

Lucas put his hands out in front of him, palms up, as if at a loss. “Essentially, we all pick up after ourselves. And you’d be surprised how little gets dirty when you’re a vampire. No food to prepare, no dishes to wash. No need of restroom facilities, so no need to disinfect them. No dead skin cells that shed and need to be dusted.”

“Dead skin cells?”

“The primary component of dust. They come from humans, which, of course, we are not.”

“Reeeally. I did not know all those important dust factoids.”

He gave her a playful smile. “I’m surprised that a smart young lady such as yourself is so ignorant about these crucial matters,” he teased. “Perhaps
this
will cure your mental sluggishness.”

He opened the door in front of him. They had come to the library.

At first, Sherry thought she was entering a forest. It was so dark she couldn’t see, but she could hear the rustling of leaves. She felt
parts of trees touching her face. But they weren’t soft and delicate, like leaves. They felt rough and scratchy, like . . .

Roots?

Lucas used his keen eyesight to light several candelabras. Now she could see that those scratchy things
were
roots. Some were enormous, thick as a man’s thigh. Others were thinner, spindly, and swung easily when Sherry touched them. The ceiling looked as if it were made of packed dirt; she wondered what prevented it from crumbling onto them. If there was ever any doubt that they were underground, entering the library certainly dispelled it.

All around her were plants. Some stood in heavy pots on the ground, containing small trees that reached to the ceiling. Vines wandered among cracks in the walls, creeping their way along dark brown walnut shelves. Flowers peeped out here and there from woven baskets, tacked to the roots themselves.

“Lucas? What’s with all this?” She pointed to the vines all around and above her.

“Oh, you noticed that, did you?” He grinned as he crouched before the fireplace, preparing to warm the room. “We’re right below le Jardin Atlantique
in Montparnasse.”

Montparnasse. That meant they were still near the entrance to the catacombs.

“The Atlantic Garden has these enormous oaks above ground, and their go roots all the way down here. Of course, there are no real leaves anywhere, because there is no sunlight. Real plants could never grow in the House for that reason. But in a way, we can have a little garden of our very own.”

“No real plants? But what about these?” She indicated the flower baskets and potted trees.

“Fakes, I’m afraid. But very realistic-looking, aren’t they? I even made the vines myself.”

Sherry examined the vines a bit more closely, and realized they cast no shadow.

“You
drew
those? I can’t believe it! They look so real! I didn’t even know you could draw.”

“There are many things about me you don’t know, Mademoiselle Sherry. I thought we should have something living down here, even if it is counterfeited.”

“The library was your idea?”

“Of a sort. The shelves and most of the books were already here when I came. I remember being more impressed with that than with any of the other rooms. You see, this was before the Industrial Revolution, and before mass production. Books were expensive to make, and even more expensive to buy. Maintaining a library was a pastime only for the very wealthy. My father had been a relatively successful merchant, so my family was not poor. However, we could never have afforded even a modest library, one much smaller than this. It would have been worth more than our house, land, horses, and my father’s entire inventory combined.”