Romeo & Juliet & Vampires (12 page)

L
ater that evening, Juliet was at the front door of the monastery once again, hunched over in more pain. She had recalled how anxious she had been right before her marriage to Romeo, but the dread and suffering she felt right at this moment was infinitely worse. With one hand on her belly, she knocked at the door. Moments later, it opened a crack, and she saw the friendly eyes of Friar Laurence, peeking out from behind it.

He recognized Juliet at once and welcomed her into the monastery, leading her to his private cell. Juliet bowed her head as she floated down the hallway.

“Friar, I am desperate for your help,” she said.

“Of course, child. What can I do for you?” the friar asked, placing a warm hand on her pale cheek.

“That is the trouble. I am not a child anymore,”
Juliet said, lifting her gaze toward him. “Yesterday, I became Romeo's wife, and today, I am a vampire. In the next few hours, my life will be beyond repair.”

“Do not lose hope just yet. I might be able to help you.”

Juliet floated away from the friar and toward an oval-shaped stained-glass window. She peered through the tinted glass at purple trees and a yellow sky.

“You know that the Capulets are born human and transition into vampires on the day they turn sixteen.”

“Yes, that is common knowledge to practically everyone in Transylvania,” Friar Laurence replied.

“Well, no one outside of the vampire world is aware of the initiation rite that must be performed by midnight of every Capulet's sixteenth birthday,” Juliet went on.

“You are right, I don't know what you are talking about,” the friar said.

“What I am going to tell you must remain a secret. Promise me you will not repeat any of this to a living soul,” Juliet demanded.

“I promise.”

Juliet traced the outline of Romeo's name on the window with her pointy fingernails. “In order to achieve immortality and full admission into the vampire race, one must leave the castle alone and hunt down a human.”

She put a hand on her chest in an attempt to quiet her racing heart.

“Then what?” Friar Laurence asked.

“He or she must kill the person and drink the victim's blood,” Juliet said.

The friar barely reacted. “You are a vampire, Juliet, and a Capulet, so this news is hardly surprising.”

“True, but this goes against every principle and value that I hold dear, and if I do not perform this act today, I will be
dead
by morning,” she said, her voice cracking. “Before I met Romeo, I was willing to sacrifice my life for what I believed in. But now I cherish every waking moment I share with him and cannot even begin to think of leaving him behind—in life or death.”

The friar remained silent, clearly contemplating what Juliet had just confided in him.

“Within me, there is a raging hunger for human blood that the normal girl I was before had promised herself she would never submit to. Lord and Lady Capulet are forcing me to use Romeo as my initiation kill and avenge my cousin Tybalt's death. They are also making me marry another vampire tomorrow. How can I even think of betraying my love like that?” Juliet broke into tears, pounding her fist on the window in agony. “This is why I came to see you.”

Without hesitating, the friar approached her and took hold of her hand. “Your story is most woeful, my lady. No one would deny that. What does Romeo think you should do?”

A tear dribbled down the side of Juliet's somber face. “He does not know about the initiation rite, or my arranged engagement to Count Paris.”

The friar sighed and gave a disapproving look.

“I tried to tell him this morning, Friar, but we ran out of time,” Juliet explained. “And now I have no idea where he is, so I cannot possibly tell him.”

Friar Laurence took her hand in his. “If you had made your confession to him, I am sure he would understand, being that he, too, has been forced to take a life.”

“It is not the same thing. He and his friend were being attacked.” Juliet pulled away gently. “I would have to hurt someone who has done nothing against me. Or as my family sees it, strike down the only man I will ever love.”

“Well, my lady, I have been worried about your future with Romeo since I married you two,” the friar said. “Not that I doubt your feelings for each other, but because you come from such different worlds, you were bound to run into trouble. I believe I have found a solution, though.”

Juliet's eyes widened with surprise. “You have?”

“Please, come with me to the library. I will explain everything there.”

Juliet felt another brutal twinge inside her stomach, causing her to lurch forward. She was willing to do anything to free herself from these chains. “Yes, of course.”

The library was on the top floor of the monastery, a large, airy room with two windows on either side. A painting of the Last Supper was hung on the left wall. On the right were numerous shelves, cabinets, and such, stacked with volumes of books.

The friar wandered over to a waist-high bookcase. He crouched down and ran his finger along the leather spines, looking carefully at each title until he found one with gold-stitched lettering:
The Revival of Virtue
. He pulled the book from the top shelf and flipped through it, whipping through the yellowed pages with great speed.

All of a sudden the friar stopped and pointed to a lengthy paragraph in the center column. “Here, Juliet. Look at this.”

Friar Laurence handed Juliet the bulky volume, which somehow felt light as a feather in her grasp. She set her flaming red eyes on the paragraph and read:

Juliet couldn't believe what she was reading. There was a way for her to remain human, just like her husband! She was so excited by this new hope that her lips turned up into a wide smile. But when she came to the end of the paragraph, her eyes became misty with tears.

Juliet slammed the book shut, her bottom lip trembling. “Is this some kind of cruel trick?”

The friar's brow wrinkled with confusion. “What? I'm only trying to help you.”

“But it's written here in plain English—the salts that are needed for the purification process are scattered
all around the globe,” Juliet said, sniffling. “It will be too difficult to attempt it.”

“Difficult but not impossible.” Friar Laurence rubbed his hands together and smiled. “I know a shaman who lives in seclusion in Moldova. He might have all of the salts.”

Juliet raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes,” the friar reassured her. “But to be honest, the more difficult task will be finding a vampire corpse. Unless…”

“What, Friar? Tell me,” Juliet said.

Friar Laurence took a deep breath and finished his thought. “Unless I ask the Montagues for Tybalt's body.”

Juliet felt a faint spell coming over her, but fortunately, she was able to resist it. The thought of drinking Tybalt's blood made her feel guilty and nauseated. Yet it was the only way that she could turn back the hands of time and give her and Romeo a real chance. Perhaps then Tybalt's death would not totally be in vain.

“Let it be done, Friar, and quickly,” Juliet said, clutching at her stomach, which growled again with insatiable hunger. “I want nothing more than to live a normal, human life with my dear Romeo.”

“I want that for you, too. But first we have to make sure that time stands still,” the friar added as he walked over to a mahogany desk. “I need at least a day to get the salts and the body, and we must halt the
progression of your condition so you will live past midnight and beyond, without ever having to kill.”

The friar pulled a skeleton key out of his robe pocket and held it up in the air for a brief inspection. Then he inserted it into one of the desk drawers, unlocking it with a loud click.

“Besides, it seems clear that the Capulets' and Montagues' hatred for each other will never cease. They might do anything to keep you and Romeo apart. The only way to ensure they will not interfere is for you to convince them you are no longer alive.”

Juliet looked on with awe as Friar Laurence placed a small lead box on top of the desk. He opened the box carefully and took out a tiny glass vial filled with a blue liquid.

“This potion will put you into a trancelike state and slow down all your bodily functions for twenty-four hours. You will be able to hear and see, but you will not be able to move or speak. And to everyone, you will appear to be truly dead—not undead,” the friar explained. “By the time the potion wears off, you will most likely be lying inside your family's crypt. Your parents will have held a funeral for you and buried you there.”

“What then, Friar? How will Romeo know what has happened?” Juliet said, jumping to the final piece of the puzzle.

“I must admit, I know Romeo's whereabouts.”

Juliet blinked in disbelief. “You do?”

“Yes, but I was told not to share it with anyone, including you. For your own protection, of course,” the friar said.

Although Juliet was desperate to know where her husband was, she nodded in affirmation. After all that he had done for her and Romeo, she trusted the friar completely.

“Drink this no less than an hour before midnight.” Friar Laurence put the vial in Juliet's quaking hand. “I will send two of my friars as messengers. One to go to the shaman and the other to Romeo to alert him of the plan. Romeo will come to rescue you from the crypt and bring you back to my cell for the purification ceremony. Then you both will be free to go anywhere in the world to live in peace.”

“Thank you, dear Friar,” Juliet said, and kissed the man on the cheek. “If I survive this, I will make sure we name our firstborn son after you.”

The friar's cheeks flushed a shade of red similar to Juliet's glowing eyes. “What an honor that would be.”

J
ust outside the Moldovan border, Romeo cowered in the corner of a dilapidated wooden shack, blowing onto his hands in order to keep them warm. Once the sun had set a couple of hours ago, the temperature had dropped substantially, forcing him to battle the evening chill. As the sky continued to darken, he reminded himself that this abandoned shanty was only a temporary lodging, until Friar Laurence could find someone to provide him with what he hoped would be a less dilapidated sanctuary. Hopefully in a day or two, he would be settled and rested enough to return to Transylvania, like he'd promised Juliet.

That is, if he didn't freeze to death first.

Romeo pulled his knees up to his chest, his teeth chattering as a burst of howling wind whizzed through the holes in the roof. To distract himself, he closed his
eyes and tried to picture what Juliet was doing at that moment. Surprisingly, all that this did was to make him even more upset. Although he had just shared the most spectacular night of his life with Juliet, ever since he crawled out of her window, Romeo could not stop worrying about the initiation rite that Juliet never fully explained. It had his wife so upset, she could barely even speak of it.

And midnight would soon be upon them.

Outside the shack, there were noises—the sound of snapping twigs and tree branches being chopped by a machete. Immediately, Romeo sprang into action, his frigid hands grabbing a parrying dagger from his bootstrap. Once he had it in his grip, he pulled his arm back, preparing to throw the dagger if one of Prince Radu's rogue soldiers—or worse, an enraged Capulet—stormed through the feeble entrance. The wind was now frenzied, its high-pitched shrieking piercing Romeo's ears.

This was why he did not hear anyone knocking.

Just as the door flew open, Romeo threw the dagger without even looking at the heavily cloaked intruder. The weapon sailed across the small shanty and planted itself firmly in the assailant's right arm. The man screamed out angrily and dropped to his knees.

“Damn you, Romeo!”

There was no mistaking the voice.

“Benvolio?” Romeo said.

The man pulled back the hood on his black cloak and revealed his face.

Romeo knelt down next to Benvolio, hanging his head in shame. “Have mercy on me, Cousin. I had no idea it was you.”

“I am not so sure,” Benvolio said, wincing in pain.

Romeo reached out to inspect Benvolio's arm, but his cousin yanked it away. “Let me have a look at your wound.”

“Have you become a doctor in the hours you've been out here?” Benvolio said sarcastically.

“No, but I have mastered the art of street fighting, so I would watch my step if I were you.” Romeo snagged Benvolio by the elbow and yanked his arm toward the bit of moonlight that was peeking through the cracks in the wall planks.

“All of Transylvania knows that now,” Benvolio said, a small hint of pride tingeing his usually brutish tone.

Romeo ignored these words and peered at his cousin's injured biceps. “Luckily, the blade did not go too far beneath the skin.”

“Well, it seems as though the master street fighter still has more to learn when it comes to his aim and technique,” Benvolio said.

“Hold still while I take this out.” Romeo took the handle of the dagger in his right hand, gripping it tightly.

Benvolio gritted his teeth and clenched both his fists. “Fine, just hurry up.”

Romeo breathed in deeply and pulled the dagger out of Benvolio's arm in one fast, easy motion. Benvolio grunted loudly and covered the open, bloody wound with his hand.

“Wait, we have to wrap that cut in something,” Romeo said with concern.

“I dare you to find something clean in here, Dr. Montague,” Benvolio retorted.

Romeo reached into his jacket pocket and grasped a bottle of holy water, which Friar Laurence had given him as a small measure of protection before he left Transylvania. He tore off a piece of fabric from the bottom of his shirt and doused it with the water. Then he placed the soaked shred of garment on Benvolio's upper arm, tying it off in a knot.

“There, that ought to do it,” he said.

Benvolio snarled unhappily. “I guess you're quite pleased with yourself now, aren't you?”

Romeo just smirked and said nothing.

“Well I wouldn't have needed this tourniquet if it wasn't for your stupidity,” Benvolio chided him.

“Why the hell are you here anyway, Benvolio?” Romeo said with a resigned sigh.

Benvolio got up off the ground and went outside, returning with a large sack, much like the one
Mercutio had brought to Capulet Castle a few days prior. Romeo's heart ached at the thought of his friend and the look on his face when he died.

Benvolio threw the sack on the floor. “I brought you some provisions. Blankets, clothes, food, more weapons, and more holy water, just in case any of the Capulets manage to find you. All of the townspeople contributed these goods, and one of the friars at the monastery told me where I could deliver them.”

A sizable lump formed in Romeo's throat. “I do not deserve their charity.”

“Why not? You avenged Mercutio's death and slew Tybalt Capulet like a true Montague. Don't you understand? You are a hero in everyone's eyes,” Benvolio said while mussing up Romeo's hair.

Romeo swatted Benvolio's hand away, then rose to his feet and confronted his cousin. “Everyone's but my own.”

“Are you saying you have no right to be proud of what you have done?” Benvolio asked incredulously.

“What I have done? I killed a man, Benvolio. How do you expect me to celebrate that?”

Benvolio got within one inch of Romeo's face, his rough skin turning bright pink. “You killed a
monster
, Romeo. A hideous, disgusting monster that attacked and killed your closest friend! Why on God's earth would you feel any remorse?”

“It isn't that simple!” Romeo barked.

Benvolio laughed in annoyance. “I cannot think of anything simpler than standing up for your kinsmen and friends. That is what brought me here.”

Romeo felt a sharp twinge in his gut. Was he disrespecting his cousin and the memory of Mercutio by feeling guilty about taking Tybalt's life? The ever-loyal Benvolio certainly seemed to believe so.

But there was so much that Benvolio didn't know. And there was no way Romeo could tell him, or any other Montague, that he had chosen a Capulet—a vampire—as his wife. It would lead to total anarchy, and God only knew how many more people would die.

“Thank you, Benvolio. I appreciate your help, I really do,” Romeo said, his voice soft and humble.

Benvolio rubbed his arm and smirked. “You certainly have a peculiar way of showing it.”

Romeo could not help but chuckle, even though another bone-chilling gust whipped through the walls of the shack.

“Do my mother and father know about this?” Romeo had a strong feeling that he already knew the answer to this question, but he prayed that Benvolio's reply would prove him wrong.

“Yes, we were able to get word to them in Serbia,” Benvolio replied.

Romeo ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “What do you think will happen once they return to Transylvania?”

“Well, they will most likely round up the troops and carry out another raid on the Capulets, to avenge you and Mercutio,” said Benvolio.

Apparently, the violence that Romeo had feared would erupt if his family found out about him and Juliet was going to occur anyway.

“We cannot let them do that!” he exclaimed, hitting the wall hard with his fist.

“Why not? None of us truly believed that Radu's treaty would be able to control the vicious acts of the Capulets. They are beasts, can't you see that?”

“But when will it stop, Benvolio? How much killing will it take to make either side see that fighting isn't going to solve anything?” Romeo shouted.

“The killing will stop once vampires like the Capulets are wiped off the face of the earth!” Benvolio roared. “I believe that now more than ever.”

Romeo threw his arms up in defeat. “It is impossible to talk to you, Benvolio. You are so filled with anger and hate that you cannot even think straight.”

“When it comes to the Capulets, yes, I am,” Benvolio admitted. “But I do not feel any shame over that. Mercy is for
people
, Romeo—people who care for their fellow man. Innocent people who just want to live a simple life. Mercy is not for the enemy.”

Romeo shook his head. He hated to give up on his cousin—and his entire family—but it didn't look like he had another choice. The Montagues seemed to want
the violence to continue, just as much as the Capulets did. All the more reason for him and Juliet to get out of Transylvania and find a place where they could love each other forever.

“Then I guess there is nothing more for us to say on the matter, is there?”

Benvolio defiantly crossed his arms in front of his chest. “No, there isn't.”

Romeo was quiet for a moment before engaging his cousin again. “Did the friar happen to tell you how much longer I would have to stay here?”

“I do not know, although I gather it will be for quite some time,” Benvolio stated.

“Why do you say that?” Romeo rubbed his hands together to prevent them from going numb from the cold.

“A two-week quarantine was just issued in this region,” Benvolio explained. “Smallpox is tearing through here like a storm. Absolutely no one is allowed to travel outside of their homes or cross the border. So consider yourself trapped in isolation for a while.”

Romeo's eyes opened wide with alarm. Two weeks before he could get to Juliet? That was absolutely out of the question. If he waited that long, she would certainly think he had deserted her. There was no way he could send Benvolio back with a message either, or anyone else, for that matter. Romeo had no other choice.

“I must go back with you, Benvolio!” he said urgently.

“Are you insane? I barely made it here myself without getting caught by both the Wallachian and Moldovan militias,” Benvolio replied. “You have to stay here.”

“But I need—” Romeo tried to protest, but Benvolio grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard.

“Whatever it is that you need in Transylvania is not worth dying for,” his cousin said sternly.

And yet it was. A million times over.