Romeo & Juliet & Vampires Page 2

  It must seem odd receiving such an intimate letter from a stranger, but I am pleased to inform you that I will be attending the Capulet ball. Some find my nature to be plain, but my reputation in our ranks is highly esteemed. In any case, I am very anxious to meet you.

  With noble intentions,

  Count Paris

  Juliet crumpled up the letter and held it tightly in both her hands. She knew other maidens her age had received notes like this before and wound up married to strangers their parents had picked out for them.

  Juliet’s skin prickled with nervous chills just thinking of it, so she pulled the covers up to her chin, gripping the fabric tightly with her fingers. If her mother thought that a romance—especially one that was prearranged—would rid Juliet of her depression, she was sorely mistaken.

  CHAPTER TWO

  At the bottom of the steep, rocky hill upon which Capulet Castle was erected stood the Montague family arsenal. Built as large as a fortress with Gothic architecture as beautiful as any cathedral, no structure in Transylvania was as intimidating or awe-inspiring. With the dreaded Prince Vladimir now imprisoned for his heinous crimes, and Vlad’s half brother Radu proclaiming this a new era of “peace,” the Montagues had been ordered to close their arsenal.

  However, despite Prince Radu’s hope for harmony and order, the Montagues continued to store and maintain a considerable amount of weaponry—battle-axes, wooden pikes, broadswords, quarterstaffs, and the like—in case of a vampire crisis. Needless to say, most of the Montagues did not believe that the Capulets were capable of honoring a long-term truce. In their opinion, the vampires were an evil plague on humanity, and the only way to stop them was by stamping them out, one by one.

  On the night of the Capulet ball, Romeo Montague—the youngest gentleman of the brood—sat in his family’s drafty arsenal, sharpening his father’s parrying daggers and misericorde knives with his older cousin Benvolio and his dear friend Mercutio. Romeo had been working on one knife for the last ten minutes, his sand-colored hair flopping over his brown eyes and his mind totally lost in a daydream. This is what set him apart from the rest of the Montagues—fighting vampires wasn’t the only thing he thought about.

  “If you do not keep your attention on your blade there, Romeo, you will have one less finger with which to tie your bootlaces,” Benvolio said, grinning.

  Romeo drew his gaze back from a dripping leak in one of the stone walls, returning it to the knife sharpener in his hands. “That would probably hurt less than this broken heart of mine.”

  Mercutio groaned as he examined a well-used crossbow. “My God, Romeo. Are you still lamenting over that grizzly beast Rosaline Capulet?”

  Recently Romeo had become obsessed with a fair and lovely maiden named Rosaline. On several occasions, he had tried to talk to her, but she just ignored him. It had really hurt his feelings.

  “Of course he is, Mercutio! Those half-breed females are quite enticing,” Benvolio said in reply. “I heard from Raulfe the blacksmith that they smell just like bacon.”

  Romeo slammed the knife and sharpener down on a worktable so that they made a loud clanging sound.

  “You are two of the most ignorant bastards in Transylvania,” he said.

  “And handsome, too,” Mercutio joked.

  Romeo was unable to prevent himself from smirking. “The only one who thinks so is your mother.”

  “What are you implying? That my mother has bad taste?” Mercutio said, apparently offended.

  “If you ask me, Romeo, you are the one whose taste is laughable,” Benvolio added.

  “Is that so?” Romeo could feel his pulse rising. He had a short temper when his cousin and friend made fun of him, which unfortunately was quite often.

  “Yes, a half-breed Capulet is not worthy of anything but scorn and suspicion.” Benvolio picked up a long-sword and ran a gloved finger over the silver blade, making sure it was sharp.

  “Rosaline is a human being, not a half-breed,” Romeo stated firmly.

  “Just for now,” Mercutio corrected. “Next year at this time, she will become a vampire. And what will you do then? Watch as she eats live goats?”

  Benvolio nudged Mercutio with a devilish grin on his round face. “Perhaps you are being too hasty with your criticism. Her wildness could do Romeo a great deal of service…especially in bed.”

  Mercutio slapped his leg as he laughed. “Honestly, Benvolio, I would be wary of dropping my trousers in front of my wife if she had fangs.”

  “And an uncontrollable appetite for blood,” Benvolio said, chuckling.

  A flood of anger ripped through Romeo’s body. He made his hands into fists and brought them up to his face. “How about we settle this debate the old-fashioned way, Benvolio?”

  Another chuckle erupted from Benvolio’s belly. “You are barely sixteen and have not fought anyone in your life. I would crush you in seconds.”

  Romeo’s older cousin spoke the truth. In his family’s crusade against Vladimir’s vampire army, Romeo had no kills, or even serious injuries, to his credit. Though his cousin teased him mercilessly about this, his parents thought he was still too young for combat. A part of Romeo was relieved to have been spared the ugliness of the war. He believed in protecting the villagers from anyone who would do them harm, but as he gaped at all the weaponry that surrounded him, he feared that his family was becoming more and more like the murderers they had vowed to stop.

  Still, wasn’t the honor of Rosaline’s name worth taking a beating for? Besides, Romeo had learned excellent long-sword skills from his father, the master vampire slayer Lord Montague. Perhaps he could beat his cousin by using a few tricks he had been secretly perfecting. There was only one way to know.

  “Hear this, Benvolio!” Romeo shouted, jumping onto the worktable and snatching a long-sword that was hanging on the wall. He aimed the pointed tip at his cousin and said, “Prepare for me to butcher you, you fat ugly cow!”

  Benvolio and Mercutio looked at each other and burst into a riotous fit of laughter.

  “Come down from there, Romeo. You’re going to fall off that table, smack your head on the ground, and split your head open,” Mercutio warned him.

  “Let the cow fight his own battles, Mercutio,” Romeo said.

  “Have it your way, Cousin.” Benvolio nodded his head at Mercutio, who quickly took a finely crafted long-sword out of a leather sheath and handed it to him. Benvolio went into a strong fighting stance and held the sword up with his right hand. “Let the thrashing of your life begin!”

  Romeo narrowed his eyes at Benvolio as his cousin leaped onto the table. He immediately lunged forward, barely allowing Romeo any time to react. Romeo blocked Benvolio’s strike with a mighty jab of his sword, and then swiftly shoved him with his left hand. Benvolio stumbled back a few steps, almost falling off the edge of the table. When he regained his balance, he grinned.

  “Nicely done,” he said, impressed. “I did not know you had that in you.”

  “Oh, I am full of surprises,” Romeo said.

  Benvolio charged again, his sword aiming high at Romeo’s head. Romeo ducked at the last moment and then swept his sword near Benvolio’s feet, hoping to trip him up. Benvolio was too fast, though, blocking Romeo’s sword with his own, all the while a smug look forming on his face.

  “Come on, Romeo! Get him!” Mercutio called out from the corner of the room.

  Benvolio swiped at Romeo two more times with his sword, which Romeo defended easily. “Why are you cheering for him and not me?”

  “I always bet on the underdog!” Mercutio said.

  Romeo saw that his opponent was distracted and whipped his sword at Benvolio’s left arm. The tip of the blade cut a hole in Benvolio’s shirt from his elbow to his shoulder.

  “Damn you! This is one of my favorites!” Benvolio growled.

  “I am not the least bit sorry,” Romeo said.

  “You will be in a moment,” Benvolio said, swinging his sword at Romeo rapidly.

>   Romeo dodged three of Benvolio’s swipes in a row. But then, Benvolio’s shiny metal blade sliced down toward his legs, and Romeo spun out of the way just in time. He wasn’t so lucky when Benvolio charged at him again—Romeo was forced off the worktable and hit the floor, face-first.

  Romeo groaned in pain at the blunt impact, then slowly rolled over onto his back and touched his nose with the palm of his left hand. He craned his head up to see if there was blood on it, and sighed when he saw his guess was correct.

  Out of breath and sweating profusely, Benvolio yanked the sword out of Romeo’s grip, his playful mood suddenly turned serious. “It is your turn to hear me now. You are deluded, Romeo. Vampires do not have the capability to love. They are heartless and their only intentions are to kill.”

  “You are wrong,” Romeo spat out as he sat up and wiped his bloodied nose with the sleeve of his shirt.

  Mercutio helped Romeo up off the floor. “I am afraid he is right, and your father would wholeheartedly agree—not to mention skin you alive if he knew you were consorting with the enemy.”

  “So instead I should follow your example and consort with women who smell like a barnyard and taste like cheap whiskey?” Romeo said as he dusted himself off.

  “Enough of this blathering. We have a good fifty or more weapons to tend to,” Mercutio said, and pointed to double bows that needed to be restrung.

  “So do you plan on visiting a harlot’s bed this evening, Mercutio? Is that why you are in a hurry?” Benvolio asked with a laugh.

  Mercutio got out some wooden stakes and stacked them on the floor, readying them for inspection. “I wish. I had plans with Maribel, a servant maid from Capulet Castle, but she canceled because she has to work at that ridiculous ball for the prince. She’d promised me a foot massage, so I’m quite disappointed.”

  “She is better off serving food to those bloodsuckers than touching your calluses,” Benvolio said.

  “It depends on who this servant maid is,” Romeo said, relieved that the tension in the air had lifted. “How ugly is she?”

  Mercutio sneered at Romeo. “Maribel is not ugly, you imbecile. In fact, she’s quite attractive. Even more so than her mistress, Rosaline.”

  Romeo’s mouth hung open. “You are courting Rosaline’s servant maid? Since when?!”

  “Only a few days. But we haven’t mentioned you and Rosaline at all, if that is what you are worried about,” Mercutio said.

  Romeo was thrilled by his friend’s revelation. It was entirely possible this Maribel was a trusted confidante of Rosaline’s. If he could somehow charm and impress the woman, perhaps she would speak kindly of him to Rosaline and convince her mistress to give him a chance. If he didn’t act on this news now, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

  “Tonight I will win Rosaline’s favor,” Romeo said with a renewed spirit. “And both of you are going to help me.”

  Mercutio narrowed his eyes at Romeo. “How do you propose we do that?”

  “You will convince your pretty servant maid to sneak us into the ball so that I can see Rosaline,” he answered.

  “A few moments ago my lady friend was ugly, and now all of a sudden she is pretty,” Mercutio said.

  “Like I said, I’m full of surprises,” Romeo said with a smile.

  Benvolio did nothing to mask his frustration. “This is ridiculous, Romeo. And dangerous to the point of suicide!” he said. “We’ve never gone to the castle at night. The vampires will outnumber us by the hundreds.”

  But Romeo would not be persuaded by Benvolio’s gift for reasoning. “We can go in disguise and blend into the crowd undetected. No one will even know we are there.”

  “This is the most preposterous plan ever created,” Mercutio said, throwing his hands up in the air. “I refuse to take any part in it.”

  “So do I,” Benvolio echoed.

  “Well, if you don’t come along, I will go to Capulet Castle all by myself,” Romeo said with confidence.

  Benvolio and Mercutio traded an uncomfortable glance while Romeo waited for their response. Benvolio nodded, and Mercutio took a hefty wooden stake from the top of the pile, offering it to Romeo as though it were a family heirloom.

  “We must shave a few of these down so they will fit underneath our coats,” Mercutio said.

  “And we will ask Friar Laurence for garlic and enough holy water to fill our ankle flasks,” said Benvolio.

  Romeo grinned as he shook their hands one at a time. “I suppose we must prepare for the worst.”

  “And for your innocence to be lost,” Mercutio said with a wink.

  CHAPTER THREE

  From behind a tall limestone pillar near the top of a winding staircase, Juliet watched the festive scene unfold in the castle’s Great Hall. Her eyes bounced around the candlelit room with great interest and curiosity, settling upon striking women in glittering, beaded ball gowns and stoic gentlemen dressed in long formal jackets, stitched with shimmering gold thread.

  She was amazed by the civility of it all. Humans and Capulets, gallivanting together as if there hadn’t been more than five years of bloodshed between them. It truly boggled the mind, but not enough to dampen the cheery mood of Transylvania’s most elite humans, who obviously were curious about the country’s most notorious vampires.

  A choral trio was assembled in between two towering marble columns, singing “Ave Regina” by Guillaume Dufay. The angelic sound of their high-pitched voices competed with the din of chatter in the air. Juliet had no need to wonder about the subject matter of people’s conversations—the peace treaty that was threatening the tight choke hold the Capulets had over the region. Soon Prince Radu would arrive at the castle as the guest of honor and be welcomed by the most prestigious clan of vampires in all of Europe.

  Juliet took a deep breath and felt her whalebone corset tightening against her rib cage. She knew she should be relieved by the prince’s presence this evening. Originally, this ball was scheduled to take place three days from now in celebration of Juliet’s sixteenth birthday, but plans had changed once Vladimir was imprisoned. The Capulets altered the theme of the dance and invited Prince Radu, hoping that they could prove they were worthy of the power his half brother had bestowed upon them, and persuade the prince to lift the treaty so their freedom to feed off of humans would no longer be compromised.

  Juliet’s extended family was so distracted by the political upheaval that they had seemed to forget all about her and her coming-of-age ritual. Juliet wished to put it out of her mind as well, at least for this evening. But when she felt a familiar warm, strong hand with long, sharp fingernails rest upon her shoulder, there was nowhere safe for her mind to go.

  “Where have you been hiding, Juliet?” a deep, raspy voice asked.

  She turned her head, and out from the shadows came the distinguished and handsome face of her father, Lord Capulet. She stood there frozen for a moment as she took in his mesmerizing features—a sharp square-set jaw, a well-kept beard, and dark red eyes that could burn holes right through her if she ever dared to disobey him. Juliet swallowed hard as she imagined her father as a young man on his sixteenth birthday, snapping the neck of an innocent human, then biting down into his flesh and sucking every ounce of blood from his veins.

  “I’m not hiding,” Juliet replied meekly. “I just needed to be alone with my thoughts for a moment.”

  Three young women, all around Juliet’s age, passed by, giggling like they did not have a care in the world. Juliet watched as her father’s red eyes tracked the girls. Lord Capulet’s mouth broke into a wide grin, causing Juliet to shudder. She couldn’t help but picture all the naive human women he must have lured into his lair with his charming smile and then “turned” into vampires with a swift, deep bite to their necks and a few drops of his blood.

  The physical rush from turning humans into vampires was as strong as a dose of opium. The practice had run rampant in the vampire world for years, but it became less popular when their numbers grew and gr
ew and there was not enough food to go around. Now with the peace treaty in effect, turning was also illegal, and those who continued to perform the act did so in absolute secrecy.

  “You haven’t been down to the ball yet,” Lord Capulet said. “Why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you?”

  “I’d rather not.” Juliet knew confiding in her father was not a good idea. Sometimes his temper ran even hotter than Lady Capulet’s.

  “Your mother mentioned something. That you’d rather abstain from the initiation and die than become what you were meant to be.” Lord Capulet stepped away from Juliet, his cape whipping behind him, and peered out over the top of the staircase as though he were a monarch looking down on his kingdom. “I didn’t pay it any mind, given how hysterical women tend to be.”

  Juliet felt prickles of heat wash over her neck like a rash. Thankfully, it wasn’t visible, because of the high collar of the emerald green gown her nurse had picked out for her this evening.

  “Hysteria is the invention of men who aren’t able to control their spouses and daughters. Frankly, I believe I’m the only one in this family with the slightest sense of what is right and wrong,” she said tightly.

  “Loyalty comes above all else, Juliet, even your sense of morality, however misguided it may be.” Lord Capulet kept his gaze trained on the merriment of the crowd downstairs; he was visibly unaffected by what Juliet had said to him.

  A fit of anger bubbled up inside of her chest, which she was barely able to contain.

  “Don’t you mean duty, my lord?” Juliet’s tone was even more pointed now. “With loyalty, a person has a choice of whether or not to stand by someone. For instance, by asking Radu here, you are choosing to betray your loyalty to Vladimir, are you not?”