Romeo & Juliet & Vampires (13 page)

T
he Great Hall was buzzing with prewedding activity when Juliet had returned to the castle at a quarter to ten. As she floated above the freshly mopped floor, she dodged a group of servants who were rearranging all of the furniture in the room to make way for the Capulets' guests. Large bouquets of red chrysanthemums and yellow lilies were scattered about in crystal vases. Clearly, the Capulets were sparing no expense for the wedding of their only child. Perhaps under other circumstances, Juliet would have been flattered by all of this fuss.

Lady Capulet stood at the top of the staircase, keeping a close eye on the hired help as they wrapped swaths of purple-stained fabric around marble columns.

“Stop, stop. It's supposed to look elegant, not gaudy!” she shouted.

Juliet ran her fingertips along the wooden banister as she ascended the stairs, rehearsing in her mind the simple script she and the friar had created right before she left the monastery. She hoped that she would be able to convince Lady Capulet that she'd had a change of heart—her future with Romeo depended on that.

Then again, Juliet could not help but feel somewhat selfish for playing this cruel trick on her mother, who was looking just as ill as she had looked this morning. Was it fair for her to choose her life with Romeo over the lives of all the Capulets? If someone had asked Juliet this question an hour ago at the monastery, she would have said yes, but now that she was standing in the commanding presence of her own mother, she was not sure what her answer would be.

Juliet smoothed out her dress and approached Lady Capulet. “Good evening, Mother.”

While Lady Capulet acknowledged Juliet's presence with a quick nod of her head, she kept her fierce red eyes trained on the commotion in the Great Hall.

“I want to apologize for how I behaved earlier,” Juliet went on, trying the best she could to gain her mother's forgiveness. “I was incredibly rude, and you deserve so much more respect than that. You and Father have given me everything I could ever want. I should never have turned my back on you.”

Her mother put her hands on her small waist and turned toward Juliet. “So have you truly come to your
senses? Or should I expect another tantrum by the time this conversation is through?”

Juliet felt every muscle in her body tense up, but when she put her hand in her skirt pocket and felt the vial of potion in her hand, she was able to contain her emotions.

“I'm sorry, my lady,” Juliet said most humbly. “I finally see how wrong I have been and I do not wish to anger or disappoint you and Father any more than I already have.”

Lady Capulet stood still, the stern look on her slowly eroding face receded.

“Being a Capulet and protecting our heritage is important to me, honestly.” Juliet was practically choking on these false words. Each time she apologized for doing what she knew in her heart was right, or lied about her emotions, she could feel a fierce wave of heat sting her skin from head to toe. But she managed to soldier on by reminding herself that at this time tomorrow, she would be human again and in Romeo's arms.

“So tonight, I will perform the initiation, and tomorrow I will marry Count Paris,” Juliet proclaimed.

“I am happy you have seen the light.” Lady Capulet took Juliet's free hand and squeezed it softly in her own.

“I am, too, Mother,” Juliet said, lowering her eyes.

“You have the weapons from your father. Now hurry along. You only have an hour for hunting,” Lady
Capulet added matter-of-factly. “Our guards have some suggestions on where to find Romeo Montague, so you should consult with them before you depart. But that is all the help you are allowed. The initiation rite is about embracing your destiny, and you must do it alone.”

“I understand,” Juliet said with a lump the size of a stone lodged in her throat.

“It is customary that we do not see each other again until you are a full-fledged vampire so I will come to your chambers at dusk,” Lady Capulet instructed. “Now go. Your nurse is waiting in your chambers.”

“Thank you,” Juliet replied, curtsying.

“Good luck,” her mother said, her watchful gaze returning to the wedding decorations.

Juliet nodded and smiled, then turned around and floated down the corridor to her chambers. Once she flung open the door, she saw her nurse laying out two garments upon her bed—an off-the-shoulder white silk dupioni gown with double lantern sleeves and shimmering gold fabric along the neckline, and an ivory satin floor-length dress with a silk brocade bodice and several layers of deep pleating in the skirt. Both of them were far superior to the simple housedress she had worn to her wedding with Romeo, and yet to Juliet's eyes neither of them was as beautiful.

“Welcome home, my lady,” the nurse said without so much as a glance in Juliet's direction. The oil lamp on the nightstand flickered and cast an eerie shadow
on the wall behind her.

“Thank you, Nurse.” Juliet remained in the doorway. A voice in her head was begging her to run from this awkward scene, but she forbade herself from listening to it.

“I hope all went well in the forest earlier.” The nurse took three steps back from Juliet's bed, and then turned to face the girl she had helped raise. “Is everything as it should be, child?”

Juliet glided toward the nurse, her hands folded in front of her. “I suppose it is. I just told Lady Capulet I will go through with both the initiation and the wedding.”

The nurse approached Juliet and held her arms out for a hug, which Juliet did not refuse. “I am so delighted for you, madam.”

Juliet was so anxious, she was surprised she could even breathe. Although she believed in what she was doing, she hadn't realized how difficult it would be to lie to the people who were closest to her. After Friar Laurence's plan had succeeded, would Juliet be able to live with the guilt?

When a vivid picture of Romeo's face flashed in her mind, she instantly knew the answer to that question.

Yes.

Juliet wiggled out of the nurse's tight hold and moved toward the window, turning her back to the nurse. “Now leave me be, will you?”

“But what about your wedding dress?”

Juliet peered over her shoulder and gave the woman a loving look—one that was not fake in the least. She and the nurse did not see eye to eye, but the woman cared for her more than anyone else in the world.

Except for Juliet's husband, of course.

“I won't be able to marry Count Paris tomorrow evening if I do not make my first kill in an hour. Please let me go.”

“As you wish.” The nurse picked up a small sewing kit off the ground and smiled. “We'll decide on the dress tomorrow, once you wake up.”

“Thank you.”

With that, the nurse scurried out of Juliet's chambers and closed the door behind her.

Stabbing sensations pierced Juliet's side as she raced to the door and shoved a high-backed chair underneath the knob so that it could not be opened from the outside. Then she looked at the white gowns that were placed on her bedspread so neatly by her nurse. Juliet did think the silk one was stunning and exactly the kind of dress she would have picked out for herself. Her heart fluttered when she thought what Romeo might think if he saw her in it.

Juliet held the dress up to her chest and reached for the hand mirror that was on top of her vanity. But when she placed the looking glass in front of her face, there was no reflection to greet her—just the gold
neckline of the gown, hovering in the dim light like a ghost.

Juliet was so horrified that she dropped the mirror on the floor, shattering the glass into jagged little pieces. She stumbled back toward the bed, clutching the dress to her chest. Her head hung low and tears stung her red eyes. The realization that she would never see her reflection again had shaken her to her very core, but when she lifted her head up and noticed that her body no longer cast a shadow, she angrily threw both gowns at the wall and screamed.

Juliet covered her face with her hands, her cheeks feeling hot to the touch. She took a few deep breaths, slowly transforming her anguish into resolve and purpose. She reminded herself that her descent into vampirism—and madness—would end the moment she and Romeo reunited with the friar at the monastery, so she should not delay the plan any longer. After a few cleansing breaths, she dug into her skirt pocket once more and grabbed the vial filled with Friar Laurence's potion, imagining what the future with Romeo would look like, with herself fully human again.

Without a single shred of fear in her heart or mind, she held up the vial and said, “Romeo, I come! This do I drink to thee!” Then she drank the contents, gulping the liquid down until none was left. There was no wait for the concoction to take effect. Instantly, Juliet's legs gave out, causing her to fall on the mattress, her arms
trapped beneath her weight and her head turned to the side.

Soon, Juliet's entire body was completely numb. Just as the friar warned, she could not move any of her limbs, nor could she speak a word. But she could hear the sound of the wind banging against the window shutters, and watch the flame of the oil lamp dance like a drunken Gypsy, and count the minutes until she could kiss Romeo's sweet lips over and over and over again.

 

As nightfall descended upon Transylvania the following day, the nurse discovered Juliet, sprawled out on her bed with her eyes wide open and her body as limp as the stem of a dying flower. It was almost eighteen hours since Juliet had drunk Friar Laurence's potion—and the nurse had just broken down the door with a battle-ax after she could not gain entrance to the room and Juliet did not respond to her calls.

“Dear God! No! NO!” the nurse cried out as she collapsed onto the floor, clutching at Juliet's lifeless legs. “Oh, what terrible thing have you done to yourself, child?!”

Juliet stared out into space and listened as the nurse sobbed uncontrollably. With each gasp for air, the woman kept shouting the word “no,” as if protesting would make Juliet come alive again.

“Please, merciful Lord,” the nurse said through a
cascade of tears. “Welcome this wonderful, darling creature into your kingdom. I raised and loved her as if she were my own. How I will miss her!”

As she witnessed her nurse unravel at the sight of her seemingly dead body, a hundred memories of the tender moments they had shared flashed through Juliet's mind—their summertime walks across the castle's great lawn; the delicious custard tarts they used to make from scratch; the leather-bound books they read by the fire. She was so touched by the nurse's intense and all-encompassing grief that she wanted to break through her trance and hug the woman who had made such a long-lasting impression on her.

But it would be several more hours before Juliet could move a finger.

Her hearing, though, was still acute. While the nurse continued to cry, Juliet could make out some sounds coming from the hallway—doors creaking open and the hum of soft, sleepy voices. Soon Lady Capulet entered the room with great alarm. Clearly, she had been awakened by the nurse's loud wailing. She glided over to the other side of the bed, knelt down, and placed a hand on the crown of her daughter's head.

“What happened, Nurse? Did Juliet return from her hunt very sick?” Lady Capulet asked as she stroked Juliet's hair with her quaking fingers.

“My lady, she is gone,” the nurse said, sniffling.
“She is gone from us forever!”

Juliet watched as her mother looked deep into her eyes for any sign of life. When she could find none, Lady Capulet brought her quivering hand up to her mouth. Then she buried her face in her daughter's soft brown locks.

“My sweet, beautiful, precious child!” Lady Capulet's moans of anguish were muffled by the mattress upon which Juliet lay still. “This cannot be real. You cannot be dead. I won't believe it!”

Juliet felt a jolt of fear tweak her brain. Could her mother actually sense the truth—that her daughter's body would awaken from this drug-induced state and eventually live as a human, just as she had days before?

Then again, Juliet had all night and day to wonder what her mother's reaction would be, and none of the scenes she pictured involved Lady Capulet shedding one tear. But here she was, being cradled and mourned by her mother, the sternest vampire she'd ever known.

As Juliet gazed into her mother's face, she felt a twinge of pity. With fresh new cracks in her skin, Lady Capulet was growing weaker. Who knew how long it would be before her mother lost a good portion of her supernatural powers. Then again, Juliet was hopeful that in the wake of her death, Lady Capulet would realize that there were more important things in life than superhuman strength and wealth and prestige and vampire supremacy.

The nurse got up from the floor and shuffled over to Lady Capulet, wiping at her eyes and nose. “It hurts me to repeat this, my lady, but it is true. Our Juliet is not of this world any longer.”

Lady Capulet reeled back from the bed, but refused to let go of her daughter, clinging to one of Juliet's hands. “I never thought my heart could break like this.”

Suddenly a voice boomed from behind Juliet.

“What is going on in here? I could hear all your shrieking from my chambers.”

Juliet recognized the commanding speaker instantly. Her father, Lord Capulet, had finally arrived on the scene.

“The universe has smote us, Husband,” Lady Capulet bellowed. “And taken our only child from us.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Juliet saw her father come close to the bed and glower down at her with a blank expression frozen on his face. His tough facade did not crack like Lady Capulet's had—not in the slightest.

“No, my lady. Juliet has taken her own life,” Lord Capulet scolded. “She stood by her threats and refused to go through with the initiation. In doing so, she denied her destiny. Death is just in this matter.”