Romeo & Juliet & Vampires (14 page)

“It is not respectful to speak ill of the dead, my lord,” the nurse blurted out, then bowed her head in submission as Lord Capulet bared his sharp fangs and growled.

“We never should have foisted these burdens upon
her,” murmured a distraught Lady Capulet. “She was too young, and too frightened.”

“She was disloyal!” Juliet heard her father shout. “She knew that we needed her to coax Count Paris into an alliance with us. Now we might lose every treasure we have fought for.”

Juliet observed her mother's piercing gaze as she got up to combat Lord Capulet. It was the first time in all her life that she was not scared of that fierce look.

“We should have helped her!” Lady Capulet snapped. “Instead, we ignored all of her pleas for understanding. When she begged us not to force her into marriage, we were self-righteous and unrelenting. When she told us she could not go through with her first kill, we were dismissive and unkind. Now look where that has gotten all of us?”

“There was nothing we could have done about the count. We had to think of our people first!” Lord Capulet yelled. “And there was no way to avoid the initiation. Every vampire must undergo it!”

“What about the purification ritual?” Lady Capulet said, shoving her husband's shoulders with both her hands.

“I told you, that is a ludicrous myth,” her father replied angrily.

Her mother looked up to the sky, choking back more tears. “Even so, we could have tried it. But we
were so concerned with keeping our power.”

Juliet felt as though someone had thrown her body into a fire pit. If both her parents had known all along that there might be a chance—however slim it was—to spare Juliet this cruel fate, and plainly ignored it, how could she ever forgive them?

“And what is wrong with that?” Lord Capulet argued. “Without the use of our powers, we cannot fight off the humans or sufficiently protect one single thing that we have. If everything we've acquired is taken from us, we will live forever with that thorn in our pride. And when that happens, the vampire race can blame our daughter and this stunt of hers.”

“Stunt?!” Lady Capulet struck her husband hard across the face. “She is dead!”

Lord Capulet remained unmoved.

“I suppose you better start planning her funeral service while I try to appease Count Paris,” he said coldly.

Then he exited Juliet's chambers, without shedding a single tear for her.

A
s Romeo crawled through the mud in a vast field, just outside the Moldovan border, he prayed that the country's patrolling soldiers, who were less than five hundred yards away, would not notice him making his escape. He slithered through the rain-soaked blades of grass like a snake, keeping his head down low. All he had to do to slip back into Transylvania was cross this pasture and find the small, rugged, and rarely traveled path that he'd taken to Moldova only a day ago. The dirt road would lead through the valleys of the Carpathian Mountains and, eventually, back to his home village—and his dearest, most precious love.

Romeo's arms and legs ached from pushing through the soft, wet dirt, his fingers tired of dragging a burlap sack alongside him. But once he saw the end of the field and a collection of tall spruce trees that surrounded the
opening of the path, his body felt as fresh as morning dew. As soon as he reached the patch of trees, Romeo quickly ducked behind one and untied the top of the sack. He took off his soiled shirt and pants and put on the new clothes that Benvolio had brought for him. They were a tad baggy on Romeo's lean frame, but that did not matter. He planned on wearing a long, hooded black cloak, which would hide his highly recognizable face and figure when he arrived in Transylvania.

Before putting on the cloak, Romeo took an oblong glass vial filled with holy water and shoved it into his right trouser pocket. In an angry Capulet mob-related emergency, Romeo would only need a few drops of it to burn their skin and send them running in the other direction. But that was a confrontation he hoped would never happen. There had been enough violence over the past couple of days.

By around nine o'clock that evening, he arrived in Transylvania and went directly to a small neighborhood pub in the center of town. He found a good table in the corner, where he could be alone, and sat down. The hood of his dark cloak hung loosely over his forehead. So far, neither the townspeople nor the prince's cavalry had recognized him, which was certainly a blessing.

As Romeo sipped on a mug of freshly decanted ale, his eyes scanned the crowd for Juliet's nurse or Maribel, the servant maid who had helped him,
Benvolio, and Mercutio gain access to Capulet Castle on the night of the ball. Romeo knew this pub was usually frequented by the servants at the castle, and he was hoping that at some point, either Maribel or the nurse would come walking through the doors. All he needed was two minutes alone with one of them in order to relay a message to Juliet.

What that message would be, Romeo was still unsure. He and Juliet had promised each other that they would leave Transylvania together and never look back—but what of Juliet's initiation rite, this act she had been so terrified of committing? Romeo knew that whatever she'd done, he loved her enough to look past it.

Didn't he?

Romeo took another swig of ale and swallowed hard. He kept his gaze locked on the entrance to the pub and tried to block out negative thoughts. But when the front door creaked open and two of Prince Radu's soldiers sauntered in, carrying their shields under their arms, his entire body went ice cold. He lowered his head, ducking his chin to his chest, as the two men sat at a table no more than a few feet away from him. The pudgier soldier raised his hand, signaling the barkeep, while the slimmer one glanced around.

“Still looking for Romeo Montague, are you?” the heavy one asked with a hearty chuckle.

“I suppose I shouldn't be, but I have this odd feeling that he is right under our noses,” the thin one replied.

Romeo nearly spit out his ale.

“The whole cavalry is still on high alert,” said the thin soldier. “He never would come back and risk his neck.”

“It's too bad. The boy is going to miss out on the big celebration,” the heavy one replied.

The thin solider seemed annoyed. “I wasn't notified of any celebration.”

“I'm assuming there will be one, once word travels from Capulet Castle to the Montague homestead.”

The barkeep appeared and placed two small shots of liquor in front of the soldiers. Romeo took this opportunity to move over to the far end of the bench he was sitting on so he could listen more intently to the men. It seemed as though their conversation was about to become very interesting. He did not want to miss a minute of it—perhaps they had information that might help him set up a rendezvous with Juliet.

“What happened at the castle?” the thin soldier said as he drank.

“I had to transport Count Paris there just before sunset—in a horse-drawn carriage and coffin no less!” the heavy soldier said, shuddering at the thought of it. “Apparently, that is how he must travel when the sun is out.”

The thin soldier guffawed. “That is quite possibly the most absurd thing I have ever heard.”

“Hold on to your bootstraps. There is more,” the heavy soldier teased.

Romeo leaned in a little farther, trying not to be too conspicuous. He had never heard of this Count Paris before, but it sounded as though he was a vampire of great importance, if the prince's men were involved with him.

“Apparently, the count was set to marry Lord Capulet's daughter tonight,” the heavy soldier went on. “In a grandiose ceremony, fit for the highest ranks of royalty.”

All of a sudden Romeo's head felt as though someone were pounding on it with the end of a quarterstaff. There had to be some mistake. Juliet was already his wife! How could she possibly be marrying another? Then again, what if this was the initiation rite she was condemned to perform? That could explain how reluctant and afraid she was to tell him about it. Romeo rubbed at his temples and tried to compose himself.

“However, the bride never made it to the altar,” the soldier added.

Romeo put a hand on his chest and let out a cleansing sigh of relief.

“Was it a case of wedding-day jitters?” the thin soldier asked. “Or did she run into the arms of another one of her kind?”

“Neither,” the heavy one answered. “She was found dead in her chambers by her nurse—from suicide, the guards said. They just held her funeral and soon she
will be laid in a tomb within the Capulet family crypt.”

Romeo swore that he felt the blood in his veins turn to fire and his flesh burn right off of his bones.

“I hope Count Paris does not take it personally,” the thin one said, laughing.

Romeo's ears were ringing so loudly he could not hear the two soldiers talk anymore. His eyesight was so blurred with tears that he could barely stagger over to the front door. Why would Juliet do this to herself, when they both had so much to live for? Romeo could not make any sense of it, and now that his love was dead, he never would be able to.

Once he exited the pub, Romeo lunged at the first person he saw on the street—a blond-haired boy around the same age as he.

“Do you know where I can find an apothecary?” he said, his voice rife with agony. If he could not share his life with Juliet on earth, then he would find another way to be with her.

“On the far north end of the forest, opposite the monastery,” the boy answered.

Romeo bowed his head in thanks.

“I heard his stock is limited, sir, since the change in our regime,” the boy added politely.

Romeo looked up and watched two birds, whistling and frolicking together in the clear blue sky.

“A spot of poison is all I need.”

 

Romeo arrived at the Transylvania cemetery shortly after visiting the apothecary on the north end of the forest. When he finally came upon the Capulet crypt—an ornate structure made of stone and brick, with two large steeples and painted icons of vampires hovering over the front door—his hand instinctively went for the vial of poison stored inside his left trouser pocket.

Although he was grieving over the death of Juliet, Romeo also felt strangely exhilarated as he rolled the smooth glass container between his fingers. He knew ingesting the contents would at first render him unconscious and then slow down his heart until it stopped beating. But once he was rid of his physical self, his spiritual self would be free to go in search of the soul of his fairest love, to the ends of eternity and back again.

But before he could do that, Romeo wanted to reunite with Juliet's body and say good-bye. With his eyes stinging and his throat sore, he placed a hand on the brass door handle of the crypt and pulled it open. Behind the door lurked an ugly demon, hovering in the air with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Romeo stared into his eyes, which were the color of blood, and carefully backed away from him.

“Only family is allowed in here,” the vampire said, floating toward Romeo with great speed.

Without thinking, Romeo said, “I am family.”

“You hardly look like it,” the vampire said as he circled around Romeo like a bird of prey. “What is your name?”

“Romeo,” he answered.

“Ah, Romeo Montague, I have heard a lot about you,” the vampire replied. “Prince Radu will be very unhappy to learn you have totally disregarded his sentence.”

“Just let me pass,” Romeo barked.

“For what purpose?” the vampire prodded.

Romeo's hands balled up into fists, and he pulled back his hood. “I have come here to mourn, not to answer to you,” he said.

The vampire let out a low, menacing growl. “I believe there is a mass grave for Montagues at the bottom of the castle moat. Perhaps I could show you.”

“The only place you will show me to is Juliet Capulet's tomb.”

“You will not get within one hundred yards of my bride-to-be,” the vampire hissed. “I will make sure of that.”

Suddenly Romeo's legs felt like they were made of stone. “Count Paris, I presume” was all he could bring himself to say.

“If you do not leave now, you won't live to see tomorrow,” the count said. “Prince Radu is a dear friend of mine, and I'm sure he will believe me if I tell him your demise was the result of self-defense.”

Romeo laughed in the count's face. Since he already planned to die, the vampire's threats were meaningless.

“I am not leaving until I see my wife,” he said with a ferocious glint in his eyes.

Count Paris seemed stunned by Romeo's revelation. His red eyes widened and his brow wrinkled with confusion. Then he growled at Romeo like one of the Capulets' hungry hellhounds.

“Juliet and I were married two days ago,” Romeo went on, his voice strong and, most of all, proud. “We were soul mates, do you hear me? The strength of our love can withstand anything—even death. But I doubt that is something you could ever understand.”

“You expect me to believe your lies?” Count Paris sneered. “Juliet would never stoop so low as to marry a Montague.”

Romeo reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out Juliet's turquoise ring. He held it out in his palm and smiled. “If I am lying, then why would I have her most precious ring?”

Without warning, Count Paris grabbed hold of Romeo by the neck and slammed him against the door of the crypt. The ring dropped on the ground and rolled away.

“This is
your
fault!” he roared. “You killed her!”

Romeo tried to breathe, but the count's grip was crushing his throat. Still, he managed to mutter, “I would never harm her.”

The vampire snarled with anger and threw Romeo to the ground, where he fell flat on his back. “Don't you see? She starved to death because she would not feed on you.”

Romeo lifted his head and gazed upon the count in confusion. “You are insane.”

Count Paris zoomed toward Romeo and planted his boot on his neck, right underneath the chin. He applied all the weight of his body, pinning Romeo down and nearly suffocating him.

“The initiation rite—she had to kill a human by midnight and then drink all his blood, or else starve to death by the next morning,” the count disclosed.

Romeo's eyes watered as the count pressed down even harder with his boot.

“Lord Capulet told me that he and Juliet's mother pressured her into avenging Tybalt's death by making you her first kill. And now it seems abundantly clear why she chose not to,” Count Paris said, his voice filled with fury.

As he began to lose consciousness, Romeo had little time to digest the meaning of what he had just learned. But when it sank in that Juliet had sacrificed her own life to save his, he was able to find the power within him to escape from the vampire's death grasp. He grabbed the sole of Count Paris's boot and pushed up hard with both arms. Once he had enough room, he rolled out from underneath the count's foothold and
scrambled away. Then he stood up, reached for his leg strap, and pulled out his parrying dagger. He held the handle firmly in his hands, his chest rising and falling with each quick breath.

“Our love is eternal,” Romeo said, pointing the dagger straight at the count. “Which is why neither you, nor anyone else, will prevent me from being with her.”

Count Paris snickered. “Tybalt was just an overgrown child. My powers and strength are far superior than his ever were.”

“Prove it, then,” Romeo said through gritted teeth.

Instantly, the count lunged at Romeo, tackling him at his torso and pushing him into the black wrought-iron gate that surrounded the crypt. Romeo almost let his dagger slip out of his fingers, but thankfully he held on. Still, Count Paris had managed to wrap a clawlike hand around his right wrist, preventing him from jamming the blade into the vampire's back as he'd wanted to do. Romeo's left shoulder was pinned against the gate by Paris's other arm, so he was unable to swing at the vampire.

“How's this for proof?” the count hissed as his jaw hinged open. It was obvious that the vampire was preparing to bite Romeo in the neck.

Romeo trembled for a brief moment, fearful that the count was about to kill him. But he found the nerve to face his enemy in spite of it.

“You'll have to do more than that to convince me,”
he said, ramming his right knee into Count Paris's rib cage.