Romeo & Juliet & Vampires (3 page)

R
omeo peeled back the hood of his gray cloak and gazed up at the foreboding mass of stone and brick that was Capulet Castle. Protected by a gigantic iron gate that seemed to reach into the clouds, the building stretched out for at least seven hundred yards and had four enormous towers from which a handful of guards with crossbows stood watch. Romeo was dumbstruck by its imperviousness. He could hardly believe that any Montague had ever breached these grounds, let alone launched a full-fledged attack on the vampires inside.

A fierce wind roared through the heavy brush outside the castle's perimeter, where Romeo, Benvolio, and Mercutio lay in wait, crouched down behind a swath of shrubbery under the light of a half-moon. Even though the fabric of his cloak was thick wool, a frigid chill
ravaged his body and he shuddered. Then again, perhaps his nerves were just getting the best of him.

For over an hour, he had been waiting for a sign from Rosaline's servant maid, Maribel. She would turn on a gaslight in the last room to the left on the ground floor, once the secret door in the servants' quarters was unlocked. Romeo was deeply concerned that something was wrong. Although Mercutio was quite intelligent, he was known for getting involved with women who were pretty yet dim-witted—perhaps she had forgotten all about them. Romeo felt his hands beginning to shake. He had to distract himself.

“Did I tell either of you about the dream I had last night?” he asked in a soft voice.

Mercutio scratched at his neck with the handle of his parrying knife. “No, you did not.”

“If it is about Rosaline and her half-breed bosoms, we are not interested,” Benvolio said as he canvassed the area with a studious gaze.

“Speak for yourself.” Mercutio nudged Benvolio.

Benvolio rolled his eyes and shoved Mercutio back with his elbow so hard that Mercutio fell into a pile of sticky moss.

“Take cover, Romeo. I'm about to punch Benvolio's lights out,” Mercutio growled.

“Will you be quiet?” Romeo whispered. “You know how sensitive the vampires' hearing is.”

Benvolio took a dagger that was hidden beneath his
sleeve and stabbed the ground near Romeo's feet, turning and twisting it until a mound of dirt and worms was wrought up from the topsoil.

“We could take them all on if we had to,” he said.

Romeo shoved his hands into the pockets of his cloak. “Remind me to have a doctor take a look at you, Cousin. You're obviously delusional.”

“Maybe he'll be committed to a sanitarium,” Mercutio said snidely. “We'd all be better off.”

“Actually, I could use some sanity right now,” Romeo said. “That dream of mine was terrifying.”

Benvolio's eyes widened. “Really? Go on.”

Romeo glanced at Benvolio and Mercutio skeptically, knowing that they'd probably laugh at his story. But when he looked at the window again and saw nothing but pitch-blackness, he continued.

“I dreamed that my lady came and found me dead, impaled by Vladimir himself. Then I was brought back to life by her kisses on my lips.”

“That does not sound so awful,” Mercutio said.

“I agree, you survived in the end,” Benvolio added.

“You do not understand. I was alive again, but…as one of them.” Romeo nodded at the castle ominously.

“Don't worry, Romeo.” Benvolio picked up a worm and let it crawl around in his open palm, then suddenly flicked it off with his finger. “If this dream came true and you were turned by one of those filthy monsters, I would put you out of your misery. I could not promise
you that it would be painless, but rest assured, it would be quick.”

Romeo crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “That is very thoughtful of you, Benvolio.”

“Romeo, look! The light came on inside the castle!” Mercutio said, pointing at the room where the servant maid had promised to give them safe passage.

Romeo sighed in relief. “Thanks be to God.”

“Do not thank God yet,” warned Benvolio as he patted Romeo hard on the back. “This mission has only just begun. Who knows what will happen when we enter the vampire lair during dinnertime?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Mercutio said as he reached into a burlap sack and pulled out three garlic cloves attached to link chains. “Here, take these. Friar Laurence dipped the cloves in triple-blessed holy water and the chain is made of pure silver. This combination will render us invisible to both vampires
and
werewolves. But it only lasts for another hour, so Romeo, you and your wench cannot dawdle.”

“One more foul word about Rosaline, and I will pummel you with my fist,” Romeo snapped, ripping his string of garlic away from Mercutio and putting it around his neck.

“Actually, I think you should bludgeon him with this.” Benvolio reached into the burlap sack and brought out a foot-long crowbar.

Romeo stared at it in sheer amazement. “What else do you have in that bag?”

“Just the usual—a handsaw, wooden stakes, a mason chisel, shears, and a couple of axes,” Mercutio explained matter-of-factly.

“I suppose that will suffice,” Romeo said.

“We cannot carry it all. That would only slow us down. Pick just one or two weapons and follow me.” Benvolio snuck out of the bushes with cloves of garlic dangling around his neck and the crowbar in his right hand.

Romeo stuffed the mason chisel and a wooden stake into the waistband of his trousers and then darted off behind Mercutio, who was already ahead and walking stride for stride with Benvolio.

Romeo's heart started pounding as he and his cousin dashed across the outskirts of the estate, making their way toward the gate. Romeo kept his eyes trained on the tower guards to make sure they had not been spotted. Fortunately, no one seemed the slightest bit aware of the Montague trespassers. The necklaces must have been working.

“Here it is,” Mercutio whispered. He halted in front of a warped section of the gate, where one of the bars was bent to the side, creating a small hole. “Maribel told me that when she steals away to see me, she slips through this spot here to evade the guards.”

Benvolio examined the damaged gate and snickered. “Obviously she eats less than your last lady friend. That boar could not have gotten through here if she tried!”

Mercutio poked Benvolio in the stomach with the handle of his mallet. “Neither will you, my paunchy friend.”

“Quit fooling around and step aside.” Romeo snatched the crowbar away from Benvolio, wrapping his fingers around the base of it with all his strength. “We have a party to attend.”

Careful not to make any loud sounds that would alert the guards, Romeo placed the crowbar between the two metal rungs in the gate so he could get ample leverage. He shifted his shoulders forward and then leaned backward, hoping to pry the rungs apart even farther so he and his cousins could sneak through. However, his effort made little difference.

Romeo tried again, this time using both his arms and his leg muscles with all his might. His palms became wet with perspiration and his arms ached, but he ignored the pain and thought of Rosaline—her gorgeous, milk-colored skin and bright, beaming eyes. He was so close to seeing her, he would not let anything or anyone stand in between them.

Romeo dug deep into his soul for a surge of brute power, and with one final swift, heaving motion, he bent the metal rung so far that it almost snapped in two.

“Aha! I did it!” Romeo said, pumping a fist into the air in jubilation.

“Congratulations, Romeo. That only took forever.” Benvolio rolled his eyes.

“Let's get on with this already,” Mercutio said.

“I will lead the way,” Romeo said as he handed the crowbar to Benvolio and stepped through the new partition in the gate. One at a time, Benvolio and Mercutio followed behind him, their feet swift and light on the ground.

“It is so dark out here. I can hardly see anything,” Romeo said, using the ambient yellow glow from the servant maid's window to guide himself across the grounds.

Suddenly Mercutio stopped dead in his tracks. “Wait, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Romeo asked.

“It sounded like…growling.”

Romeo remained still and listened. Other than the sound of rustling tree branches, he did not hear anything out of the ordinary. “It is just the wind, Mercutio. Carry on.”

The trio picked up their pace, taking large strides toward the castle, but they did not get too far before Benvolio made an abrupt stop.

“Mercutio is right. Something is out here, watching us.” Benvolio shifted his legs apart into a fighting stance and held the crowbar in an attack position.

Romeo could hear it now—a low, hungry growl that was seething with anger. He instinctively rubbed a garlic clove between his fingers. “Mercutio, you said we were invisible to vampires and werewolves.”

A thin steam of moonlight illuminated two pairs of beady golden eyes and salivating mouths with sharp teeth.

“But not to dogs,” Mercutio said, his voice wavering.

Romeo gulped as the two snouts sniffed the air for fear.

“This is bad,” Benvolio said.

“Very bad,” Romeo agreed.

Once one of the dogs had lunged at them, there was nothing left to do but—

“Run!” Benvolio proclaimed, and took off like a scared rabbit.

Without a second to lose, Romeo broke into a fast sprint, with Mercutio scrambling alongside of him and the dogs in hot pursuit. Romeo ran through a cluster of stone bunkers and over a wooden footbridge that crossed a small moat. Mercutio put forth a burst of momentum and dashed past Romeo, which annoyed him immensely.

With both his mates ahead of him, Romeo was tempted to look back and see how close the dogs were, but that would only slow him down. Besides, their ferocious barking was ringing in his ears, so he knew they were on his heels.

“This way!” Mercutio called out from a few feet ahead.

Romeo was running so hard he was barely able to breathe. He locked his gaze on Mercutio, who had reached the window of the ground floor and dropped to his knees in front of it. Mercutio quickly felt around a thick swath of grass with both hands, searching for the hidden door handle. He pulled the door open to reveal a secret entrance to an underground tunnel.

“Hurry!” Mercutio waved at Benvolio and Romeo.

Benvolio got there first, leaping into the entrance-way like a flying acrobat. Romeo was three or four steps away when he felt something tug hard at the bottom of his cloak. There was another sharp yank on his arm and he was dragged to the ground. While the dogs gnawed on his cloak, he tried to reach for the mason chisel he had lodged in the waistband of his trousers, but he could not grasp it. He said a short prayer, just in case he didn't survive the brutal mauling about to unfold.

Luckily for Romeo, the dogs let go of him willingly, in order to chase down large chunks of raw meat that had just been tossed into a row of rosebushes. He glanced up and grinned at Mercutio, who was standing above him with a light glaze of blood on his hands.

“Maribel's a smart one.” Mercutio beamed. “She left some treats for the dogs at the foot of the door. I guess they haven't eaten in a while.”

“Well, that much is obvious,” Romeo replied. “Let's get out of here before they are ready for dessert.”

Mercutio held a hand out to Romeo, and he took it in his, bloodied and all. When he was back on his feet, he gave Mercutio a heartfelt smile.

“Mercutio, I owe you my life,” he said.

“Romeo, I am your friend. You owe me nothing.” Mercutio placed a hand on Romeo's shoulder and grinned. “Now come on. You have a half-breed to woo.”

Romeo smiled and shook his head, then followed Mercutio down into the secret tunnel.

T
he life had practically been squeezed out of Juliet's hand when her mother finally let go. Lady Capulet had dragged her to the edge of the dance floor, where an older, impeccably dressed vampire floated at attention before her. As Juliet shook out her pink fingers, hoping to revive them, she became distracted by all the graceful couples who moved in choreographed unison to the music. But when she felt Lady Capulet nudge her forcefully in the shoulder, Juliet's eyes shot back to the man who her mother obviously wanted her to meet.

“I apologize for our tardiness, my lord,” Lady Capulet said with a dutiful curtsy. “Welcoming the prince took longer than expected.”

“Oh, an apology is unnecessary,” the vampire replied as he stared intently at Juliet. “Although I'm
setting eyes on her for the first time, I can already tell that meeting your daughter has been worth the wait.”

Juliet stifled a laugh. The vampire's charm was so uninspired and clichéd, it was comical.

“Juliet, this is Count Paris. He has come a long way to see you,” her mother said eagerly.

A flash of prickly heat was quickly visible upon Juliet's cheeks. This was certainly the same Count Paris who had written to her.

“Hello, sir,” she muttered, and bowed her head in respect.

The count raised an expectant eyebrow and smirked. “Would you care to dance, Miss Juliet?”

“She would love to,” Lady Capulet answered, gently pushing her daughter toward Count Paris.

Almost instantly, Juliet was swept away by the count for a saltarello, a courtly dance that included box steps, twirls, and promenades. Count Paris stood next to Juliet, then reached behind her and put his right hand on her waist. As Juliet extended her left arm out to the side, he took her left hand in his.

“I haven't danced in ages. This will be great fun,” he said cheerfully.

Juliet gave him a faint smile. Somehow she felt that dancing with him would be quite the opposite.

And she was absolutely right. With each step, the count's grip on her waist became tighter and tighter. Sometimes, she swore that she could feel his nails
clawing through the lace panels of her dress. But regardless of how uncomfortable she was, she managed to keep an airy expression on her face, because everyone at the ball—including a delighted Lady Capulet—was gawking at her as she danced in his arms.

“This music reminds me of my childhood in Bulgaria. My mother loves the sound of the panflute,” Count Paris said in an attempt to make small talk. “Have you ever been there?”

“No, my lord. I'm afraid I haven't traveled much outside of Wallachia,” she replied.

Count Paris ran his hand down her back. “I have a strong feeling that is all about to change.”

Juliet glanced over at the performer who was currently blowing into the panflute, willing him to cease playing so that she could excuse herself from this awkward encounter. But from the way Count Paris was breathing heavily in her ear, she could tell that her partner wanted the music to last until the first hint of morning light.

“Your parents never mentioned how beautiful you are,” the count murmured as he spun Juliet out to his left side and then back again.

She tried not to roll her eyes. “I suppose Lord and Lady Capulet do not like to boast.”

Juliet did not have the heart to tell Count Paris that she knew little about him, other than what he'd
revealed in the letter he'd written. Nor did she have the nerve to say that while the “blessing” of immortality—and perhaps even the quality of human blood—had kept vampires rather young and virile over the years, it didn't necessarily make all of them attractive. With his pointy chin, bulbous nose, and ears that stuck out like an elephant's, Count Paris was proof of that.

Still, Juliet was not as shallow and fickle as other maidens her age. She believed that a person's soul was to be loved above their physical appearance, which is why she found Count Paris's leeriness more disturbing than the large mole upon his chin. Apparently, the vampire in front of her was not the cordial gentleman he presented in his letter.

Count Paris led Juliet into a short promenade, floating slightly above the floor with a proud look in his blazing red eyes. “No one should be modest when describing you, my dear.”

“You are most kind.” Juliet tried to think of a reason to take leave of him—an ill-fitting shoe? a severe headache?—but whenever a dance step led her into her mother's line of sight, she resolved to continue on.

“What do you think of the ball so far?” the count asked, twirling her three times in a row.

Juliet steadied herself on her silver heels, which were a touch too high for her. “I suppose it's…nice.”

“Only ‘nice'?” Count Paris laughed. “I doubt that
your mother or father would be happy with that answer. They have worked so hard to impress the prince.”

“Oh, I am very aware of that, my lord,” Juliet said as she dipped under the count's right arm and circled around him.

“I'm not sure if you know this, but the prince and I have become very close as of late. I'm one of his most trusted ambassadors,” the count said. “When Vladimir was thrown into prison, Radu wanted to hire someone to negotiate with the Capulets. There was no one better suited to take on this task than a vampire, of course.”

“So do you think you'll be able to convince Radu to reconsider his ruling?” Juliet knew it was slightly rude to put him on the spot, but she hoped that his response would be no.

The count took her hands in his and gazed at an opulent gold ring with a sea green stone that sparkled on her right index finger.

“This is quite lovely. Is it aquamarine?” he asked, changing the subject entirely.

“No, actually, it's turquoise. My father gave it to me on my thirteenth birthday,” Juliet said, sighing.

There was only one topic she was interested in hearing the man talk about, and he was obviously refusing to share his views with her. Did that mean he was uncertain of his abilities as a diplomat? Considering
everything that was at stake for her family, Juliet was understandably curious.

“Well, you are worth spoiling,” the count added as he kissed both her hands.

“What about the prince? Does he think Vladimir spoiled the Capulets? It will come as no surprise that my family is afraid of losing all of their wealth and power over the region.”

Count Paris led her into another promenade. “I do not wish to talk about politics with you, Juliet.”

“Why not? Because I'm a woman?”

“Just barely,” the count snickered. “But that is not the reason.”

“What is it, then?” Juliet said, anchoring her feet to the ground and not budging another step.

The count cast his iridescent red eyes upon her and smirked. “Because you truly aren't one of us…yet.”

“Ah, I see. I won't be worth listening to until I can suck all the lifeblood out of some poor, unsuspecting person,” Juliet said sharply.

The tone of her voice would have made most men flinch, but this vampire was still grinning from ear to ear. “That is not what I meant.”

“Yes, it is,” she huffed.

“Please, Juliet, I'd much rather talk about more pleasurable things,” Count Paris said, pulling her in so close that their lips almost touched. “Like what you think about me.”

Juliet wrestled away from his embrace, but the count held her by the elbows and stroked a small patch of her bare skin with his thumb.

“I'm afraid that I have no thoughts to share,” she said plainly. “I know virtually nothing about you.”

Thankfully, the flautist ended his song with a long, whistling note. Count Paris let go of her arms so he could join in the applause. Juliet sighed in sweet relief and hoped that she could make her exit soon.

“Well then, I suppose I must better acquaint you,” Count Paris said, once the crowd began to bustle again. “Quite frankly, when it comes to me, there are only a few things that you need concern yourself with.”

Juliet peered over her shoulder to see if her mother was trying to eavesdrop on them, and was elated to see that she was nowhere to be found. “And what are those?”

A servant passed by with a tray stacked with blood-filled goblets and Juliet winced when he reached for one. The smell of pig entrails made her incredibly nauseous. Count Paris took a long swig from the cup and blotted a stream of blood from his mouth with a white handkerchief.

“I come from one of the finest families in Europe. We live in a castle, much grander than this one, and Prince Radu has asked me to be chancellor of Transylvania. I hope my elevated status pleases you.”

Juliet felt a knot forming in her stomach. The way
the count had just listed his assets could only mean one thing. “I'm not sure why any of that should matter to me, sir.”

“Well, because in a few short days you will become my wife,” he said with a broad smile.

“Wife?!”
Juliet felt a rapid fluttering sensation inside her chest. This was exactly what she had feared when she read his stupid letter.

“I have it all arranged with your mother and father. An alliance between our families will help improve your father's relationship with the new prince, especially now, when so much is at stake. Once you complete your first kill and transition, I will take your hand in marriage. Then you and your family will have nothing more to worry about…ever.”

Count Paris raised his eyebrows at Juliet, who just stood there, completely aghast. “Would you care to make a celebratory toast? I can hail another servant and get you some wine. But I should warn you, madam—after you have your first taste of blood, there's no going back.”

A blistering sting spread throughout Juliet's entire body, one she'd never felt before. She wanted to get back at the count and her parents for using her as a bargaining chip in this twisted political game of theirs. Juliet imagined looking them all in their beady, red eyes and then spitting in their faces.

Fortunately, Juliet managed to squelch her rage
somewhat and rebuked the count in a more appropriate way. She grabbed his goblet, held it up, and proclaimed, “To wedded bliss!” Then she quickly poured all the contents over Count Paris's head, dousing him to the very last drop.

Her “fiancé” let out a startled yelp, alerting everyone around them to what had just happened. A group of socialites gasped at Juliet's outrageous behavior, while one of the dour-looking elder vampires shook his head and mumbled, “Lord Capulet will have her whipped when he sees this.”

But he will have to catch me first,
Juliet thought, and she sprinted out of the Great Hall to a place where no one would find her.

 

Underneath the ground floor of the castle ran four long, dark tunnels. The servants used them in the morning to access other rooms in the building without disturbing the vampires as they slept in their chambers; at night, the servants used them to evade the guards and exit the castle for an unscheduled evening of leisure in town. Originally, the tunnels had been constructed so that if the castle ever came under attack by the Montagues, the Capulets could move throughout the interior without detection and ambush their enemy. Some of the tunnels led to prison cells, where torture devices, like thumbscrews and knee splitters, were stored.

At the end of the south tunnel, there was a room such as this. It was about the size of two wardrobes, and Juliet would take refuge there whenever she clashed with Lord and Lady Capulet. She was on her way there now, weaving and darting through the underground system as she'd done countless times before. Since she had the routes memorized, she could navigate them easily in the near pitch-blackness.

The echo of her heels clicking against the slippery stone masked distant whispers that were being carried in the thin air. One woman's voice sounded familiar to her, but the others belonged to strangers. Juliet did not want to be caught in the bowels of the castle by the servants, so she picked up the pace, grabbing hold of the hem of her dress so it would not trip her up and swiftly ducking her head when she passed by places where the ceiling hung low.

After a good fifteen yards, she closed in on the secret room. Juliet opened the door and went inside. She reached into her shoe and pulled out a match, in hopes of lighting the oil lamp that she had brought down to the room a few days ago. She struck the match against the wall and it burst into a bright orange flame.

All of a sudden a terrified shriek rang out, startling Juliet so much that she toppled to the ground. A large black boot came out of the darkness, then a huge white hand with long, sharp fingernails. A set of wide red
eyes became visible, along with a toothy grin that Juliet knew all too well.

“Tybalt? Is that you?” she whispered.

Juliet scrambled for the oil lamp that was in the corner of the room, lighting the wick just before the match extinguished itself. Her mouth went agape when she saw a busty blond woman, dressed only in her pink lacy undergarments, and her handsome cousin, putting his shirt back on.

“Don't you know how to knock?” Tybalt asked as he basked in the soft glow of the lamplight. “And stop staring at me like that. This isn't what you think.”

Juliet put her hands on her hips. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”

Tybalt smiled at her as though nothing strange were going on. “Because you're too young, that's why.”

“You said we wouldn't be found down here, Tibby,” the lady whimpered.

Juliet let out a giggle. “Tibby, eh? Isn't that sweet.”

“Be quiet, Cecilia!” he hollered into the cell.

Juliet gasped and kicked Tybalt hard in the shins, then stormed out into the tunnel, happy to hear her cousin groan in pain. Tybalt limped out of the room and stepped in front of Juliet, preventing her from leaving.

“What are you so upset about? She and I are just having ourselves a bit of interspecies fun. There's no law against that, is there?” Tybalt inquired while he buttoned up his shirt.