Juliet Immortal (11 page)

“He’ll never look good to me, no matter how many apologies he gives.” My voice still trembles.

“I just can’t believe his hand isn’t more messed up. He should have broken—”

“I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get home.” I have to try to contact Nurse again. Now.

“But I thought coffee sounded great.”

“It did. It does. I just … I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.” I edge toward the door. “But you and Gemma should go. I know she’d love that. Tell her I’ll call her, okay?”

“Okay.” Ben sounds confused, and he has every right to be, but I don’t have time to explain, even if I could. Which I can’t. I have no idea what’s going on.

I grab my backpack from the floor and dash out the back of the theater into the downpour. I make it all the way to the student parking lot before I realize I don’t have a ride home.

I curse and spin in an angry circle, kicking one of the puddles at my feet.

Gemma drove me. How could I have forgotten?

I briefly entertain the thought of going back to play practice but decide against it. Ben already thinks I’m unstable, maybe even flat-out crazy. I don’t need to do anything to reinforce that opinion. I need him to trust me, to be a person he listens to and confides in. I have to find another way home. The bus, or my own two feet. It isn’t
that
far. Maybe two miles, three at the most.

I start walking. And walk. And walk. And walk. Through the town and into the country, down the highway in the mud at the side of the road with cars splashing my legs as they drive by. By the time I reach the turnoff for El Camino, it’s nearly dark and those three miles I’ve slogged through the rain feel
like a hundred. There’s no denying it, I’m not in top form. I still haven’t achieved anything resembling supernatural strength.

Whether it’s my poor diet since I arrived or the stress of this shift or something else entirely, I don’t know, but I feel … wrong. I need Nurse, more than I have since my first days as an Ambassador. Surely she will come to me now. One of the mirrors in this house will work. It
has
to.

I let myself in the front door and drop my keys in the dish, shivering and exhausted and desperate to talk to someone who understands.

“Look who finally made it home. You look like a drowned rat.”

But not
that
desperate. Not desperate enough to talk to the boy waiting for me in the hallway outside my room. Romeo slumps casually against the doorframe, grinning as if he has every right to be there.

I freeze, wishing I’d taken Ben up on that cup of coffee. At least then I’d be properly caffeinated, which might help when it comes time to fight for my life.

I
run, hoping to make it to the living room or kitchen before he reaches me. The hallway is too cramped. There’ll be no room to defend myself. It will be the car all over again, and this time I might not come out whole on the other side.

“Wait! Juliet, wait!”

I don’t wait. I run faster, jumping over the red chair near the television and lunging for the front door. I have the knob in my hand when he grabs me from behind and spins me back into the room. I fall to my knees, groaning as the sharp corner of the coffee table jams into my stomach. Pain flashes through my midsection, but I’m back on my feet in seconds, bending
my knees and lifting my fists, bracing myself for the inevitable attack.

“I didn’t come to fight,” Romeo shouts, raising his arms in a defensive position. “I want to talk. That’s all I’ve wanted all day.”

“Talk.”

“Yes, talk. Chat? Have … verbal intercourse?” He winks, and I fight the urge to show him what I think of him with my middle finger.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Oh, but you will. I have secrets to share.”

“I don’t care.” I nod toward the door. “Get out. I’m not interested in your lies.”

“Lies? When have I lied?” His hands drift to his sides, but his wary look remains. If I attack him, he’ll be ready. I have to wait, to seize on a moment when his defenses are truly down. “I’ve never lied.”

“And we killed ourselves to prove our perfect, timeless love.” I spit the words with enough venom to poison a hundred young lovers, then curse myself for it. I shouldn’t let him know how that false history still gets to me. I shouldn’t give him such an easy victory.

His chin tilts down, but I can see the smile tugging at his lips. “Well, perhaps I did lie … just that once.”

“Get out,” I say through gritted teeth.

His eyes come back to mine. “But I honestly never dreamt Shakespeare’s work would be so enduring.” He wanders over to the table by the door and plucks a quarter from the key dish, tossing the coin in the air and catching it with an easy flick of his wrist. “I found his verse lovely, of course, but the tragedy
of Romeo and Juliet itself is a rather immature work, more reminiscent of his comedies than—”

“Leave. Now.” My every muscle is tensed and ready. What is he planning to do with that quarter? Hurl it at my face and hope to put an eye out? With Romeo anything can become a weapon—love, trust … loose change.

“And then what?” he asks. “You’ll come give me a proper whipping? You know I enjoy your hands on me, Jules, no matter what they’re doing there.” He rolls the coin across his knuckles and back again while I try to keep my temper. “And knowing how close these bodies came to intimacy before we entered them, I’ve been dying to—”

Temper lost.

I reach for the closest weapon at hand, snatching the base of the lamp, yanking its cord free of the wall as I toss the shade to the ground. “Get out, or I will beat you. And I won’t use my hands.”

“Wait!” Romeo drops the coin, his smile slipping. “Please … hear me out. I haven’t lied about anything that’s mattered. I’ve always played fair. More than fair. In your heart you know that.”

I roll my eyes.

“Please, I just want this to be over,” he says. “We can put an end to it, without the sacrifice of a soul. But only here, only now. This is our one chance to take back what we lost.”

“What you stole.”

He sighs again. “You still believe it was all
my
doing?”

“You locked me in a tomb and left me to die.”

“The past.” He starts toward me but stops when I lift the lamp over my head. “The past can’t be changed, but the future … the future can be yours. Life, love, everything you’ve
longed for. You don’t have to return to the mist. You can stay here.
I
can stay here with you.”

I laugh. He’s so absurd I can’t help myself. “I don’t want you with me. I want you to go to hell, where you belong.”

“There is no hell,” he says, lips tightening. “There is only the earth and the mist and the places where the high ones go, where they will
never
allow us to enter.”

“Perhaps you haven’t encountered hell yet, but your punishment is coming. Someday, you will suffer.”

Fear flashes in Romeo’s eyes, making me wonder if he’s actually telling the truth. Maybe we are at the end of our long journey and he’s genuinely afraid of what will come next.

“You want me to be punished. I understand that,” he says. “But you don’t have to wait for someday. I’ve
already
suffered. Every minute I’ve spent with you as my enemy has been an eternity of torment. Pretending to hate you, being forced to turn and kill innocent people, it is—”

“Enough.” I shake my head, scattering his lies into the air. I’ve seen him revel in a kill. He’s an abomination and takes pride in the fact. The only question is why he’s suddenly working so hard to convince me otherwise. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

“I want your love.”

“You will
never
have it,” I say, exasperation thinning my voice. “Never.”

“Hm.” He has the nerve to look disappointed. In me. It’s nearly enough to make me slam the lamp down on his skull. “Give me a chance to explain. It might make you rethink everything you—”

“I don’t care what you—”

“I’ll tell you the truth this time, everything about the world
of the Mercenaries. There is nothing to prevent me,” Romeo says, flicking on the companion to the lamp in my hand. Light blushes into the room, illuminating his features, revealing a look of such sincerity that something inside me demands that I listen. “For me, hell is a place on earth. I inhabit the mortal realm but enjoy none of the comforts of humanity. I wear any corpse I choose but am never a part of the world.”

“I weep for you.”

“Perhaps you would, if you understood.” He falls onto the couch, his handsome face suddenly haggard. “I can no longer experience physical sensation. Nothing. Not ever. Not in these bodies we inhabit when we are called, not in the bodies I steal when I am alone. No taste, no smell, no touch. I believe the high Mercenaries allow me to see and hear only because I require those senses to function.”

“No scent? None at all?”

“None,” he says.

“Not even my
sweet breath
?” I ask, sarcasm ripening each word. “So you lied about that, as well?”

“A white lie.” He shrugs. “As is the case with many compliments men give their women.”

“I am not
your
woman, and I couldn’t care less if—”

“Listen to me. Hear me.” He jumps back to his feet. “I can feel no pleasure. Very little pain. No hunger, no thirst, not the sun or the rain on my skin, not the shiver of touch, not the pressure of a kiss. Wine passes through me without effect, not even to make me sleep. I can’t sleep, not ever,” he whispers, the madness in his eyes almost enough to make me believe him. Imagining an existence such as he describes makes my soul scream. “There is nothing but a deep, aching emptiness that I would do anything to escape.”

“Then escape. Put an end to yourself.” I refuse to pity him, not when he’s brought it all upon himself. “I’ll fetch you a knife from the kitchen. If you cut out your heart, that should—”

“I can’t. The Mercenaries don’t hesitate to punish their converts. The high ones will torture me if I try. They will trap me in a corpse but deny me the release of death, returning my senses only so that I might know what it feels like for a human body to rot all around me. I’ve seen it happen to others. They make us watch such things … as cautionary displays.”

I fight to keep my face blank, to force the image of Romeo’s real body—already rife with decay—from my mind. I can’t think about what that vision might mean right now. I can’t risk letting Romeo know my secrets.

“The only happiness I will ever have is what I steal. Now is the time to steal it, the time to take back what we lost.” He steps closer, and this time, I let him. “I could have killed you a hundred times. If I had, I would have been granted a higher position in the order, but I couldn’t end your life.”

“Because I didn’t let you.”

“Because the part of me that remembers what it was like all those lifetimes ago still cares for you … loves you.”

I choke on my next breath.

“I know you think you can’t love me. But you must know how sorry I am. So sorry,” he says, his voice thick, a shine in his stolen eyes.

Rage surges beneath my skin, so hot it feels as if it will burn me from the inside out. “Don’t you dare cry for me. Don’t you dare,” I warn in a tight whisper.

“We must love each other again. Now.” He continues as if he hasn’t heard me. I shiver.
Love now
. I heard the same words
earlier today, from my own lips. But surely she … 
I
 … couldn’t mean that I’m supposed to love Romeo. It’s … impossible. “I found the spell years ago—the one that will free us—but I had to wait until a sign came that it was time. I believe I’ve seen such a sign.”

I bite my lip. The temptation to speak, to tell him the things I saw nearly rips me in two. But I can’t. He is the enemy. He is my murderer, a monster, and a liar of unparalleled skill.

“For the first time in all my centuries,” he says, “I’m certain they aren’t listening. There isn’t a single Mercenary wandering these streets. There should be a dozen or more in a town this size.”

“Really? And how would you know?”

“Mercenary converts can see the auras of all transformed people. Black for our kind, gold for yours, pink and red for our darling lovers,” he says, obviously pleased to share that he has some powers I do not. “But there are none of them here. This is
our
time. I can tell you the secrets I’ve learned. I can tell you how to reclaim a human life.”

“And why would you do that?” I will my heart not to beat any faster, refuse to indulge the hope he’s sparked inside me.

“You deserve it. You deserve an eternity of pleasure. And you can have it. All you have to do is trust me, and love me … just a little.”

“Never. I will never, ever love you,” I whisper, shocked that even a madman could believe such a thing possible.

“You could. I know it. I can see it in your eyes,” he says, determination twitching in his jaw. “And if you can, we can be human again. With bodies that live and breathe, and the freedom to do as we please. Forever.”

Forever
. It’s what he made me promise on our wedding night, the lie he begged me to tell. He’s still so unchanged, despite his diseased mind and his hundreds of years of life. But I am not. Now the thought of forever makes me tired. Frightened. Sad. What is forever worth? When love is so fragile and even one human life so long?

“I don’t want to live forever.”

“You would,” he says as I take a step back, closer to the kitchen, where the knives wait in the drawer next to the sink. “If you weren’t a slave, you would.”

“I’m no one’s—”

“They aren’t what they’ve told you they are. They aren’t angels sent from heaven.”

“They never said they were.”

“They aren’t the good ones either. Did they tell you that? They’re just the losing team, the people who picked the wrong side of the coin.” Another step and another, until he stands in the doorway to the kitchen and my back is pressed against the counter. I could have a knife in my hand in seconds. A part of me screams to arm myself before it’s too late. The other part knows Romeo isn’t here to attack me. He really has come to talk, to tell me this crazy story I shouldn’t believe.