by Ann Hunter
Contents
Copyright
THEY WHO WALK AMONG US
IN FAIR VERONA
JUST ONE NIGHT
BOY + VAMPIRE
DEFY
ENTHRALLED
VIOLENT DELIGHTS
HOTBLOODED
A BITTER DRAUGHT
BLACKEST NIGHT
ROMEO MUST DIE
THE RECKONING
AMABA CON TODA SU ALMA
VENOM
CURSE OF THE EVERSLEEP
WHEN LOVE DIES
A QUIET CAFE
REQUIEM FOR A VAMPIRE
Thanks
Fan Ann
Graphic Designer & Cover Art: Andrew A. Gerschler
Published in 2017 by Aisling House, LLC/P. Gerschler. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without written permission of the publisher.
R+J Sucks, vol 1 / by Ann Hunter
R+J Sucks, vol 2 / by Ann Hunter
R+J Sucks, vol 3 / by Ann Hunter
R+J Sucks, The Complete Collection / by Ann Hunter
THEY WHO WALK AMONG US
San Francisco, California
Present Day….
Escalus, a phantom in the shadows, intently watched the key keeper open the cathedral across the way. The gray morning light offended his skin. He pulled his dark robes tighter about him, watching a few cars and people on foot too absorbed in their phones to pay much attention to the world around them, before crossing the narrow street.
The parapets of the old church stared down on him, causing Escalus to pause at the foot of the stairs to the massive door. His pale lips pulled back in a sneer. His kind was forbidden to enter, but he needed to speak with the man inside.
How would Escalus call the key keeper out? The shadows of the gothic towers stretched long behind him, even as the church bells began to sing. Their sound took Escalus back to a simpler time when he used to stare from his window across the valley, before things within his clan had muddied.
He closed his eyes against the memory, and the foreboding power of the church pressed against him. Even now he felt his strength weakening in the presence of this place. He was powerless here, and the sense of vulnerability put him off.
“May I help you?” a man’s voice asked.
Escalus opened his eyes, putting his sneer in check. The key keeper, with the mark of his station about his neck, peeked through the garish green doors.
“Mister Laurence, I presume,” Escalus said evenly.
The man smiled. “Father Laurence, if you don’t mind.”
Escalus did. His kind did not acknowledge the stations of mortals. Mortality was below him, but he was prepared to concede. He frowned. “It is time we speak.”
Father Laurence waved him inside. “Come in.”
Escalus tightened his grip on his robe. How frightened would this man be if he revealed himself? Slowly, he pulled back his hood to show Laurence his true nature.
Father Laurence staggered, but did not run. His breath caught.
“As you can see,” Escalus said, “I cannot join you inside. You must come with me.” He replaced his hood over his hair and skin.
Father Laurence’s voice went thin and hollow. “We’ve met before.”
“Yes. Briefly.” He watched Laurence’s knuckles whiten against the green door. “You have my word you will not be harmed,” Escalus said.
The color gradually returned to Father Laurence’s hands. He slipped into the church.
Escalus closed his eyes, focusing in on the man’s presence. Laurence spoke with another, merely tidbits of instructions to the running of the building while he was away. Escalus exhaled a long breath, centering what little power remained in him. The sooner they stepped away from this place, the better.
Sensing the man had returned, Escalus pivoted on his heel and braved the morning light. The very cruor in his ancient veins pulsed stronger with each step away from the church’s shadow.
Relieved that Laurence did not know the humiliation it took to come to him, Escalus afforded him the courtesy of leading him across the street to a bistro. While his powers were stronger, they were not at their full height, and that was for Laurence’s safety. Staying close to the church kept Escalus at bay.
The bistro door opened to the jangle of a brass bell above it, summoning a hostess. Mortals crowded nicked-up tables, taking in their dark proverbial elixir of life. Escalus’s nose crinkled at the bitter stink of the Arabic berry, debased and liquefied by man.
Laurence ducked in behind him, but Escalus brought his gaze to the hostess who stared at him with confusion. It wasn’t often cloaked strangers entered such an establishment on sunny days.
Laurence cleared his throat, stepping around Escalus as though hurrying over a troll-guarded bridge. “Table for two, please.”
The hostess glanced between them. Even from where he stood, Escalus smelled her perfume, or lack thereof. Her natural scent was both floral and earthy, all at once. His stomach churned as the sound of her pulse beat steadily toward him.
She gathered two menus and led them to their table, dark curls bouncing around her shoulders. One bite would be all it would take to sate Escalus’s thirst, but he mustn’t. Even though he knew she would be as delicious as she looked. He tucked his lip, sheathing the fangs that betrayed his desire.
“Coffee?” she asked cheerily, setting the menus on a table.
Laurence smiled back at her, sliding into the booth. “Please.”
Escalus took a seat across from him, reaching to draw the blinds and snuff out the sunlight offending their table. When the hostess returned with the pot of coffee, Escalus waved his hand lightly. “Leave it.”
The stink would mask her intoxicating smell, and he was grateful for it.
The hostess looked at him awkwardly again, then shrugged, leaving the pot.
Escalus took to pouring it himself, then slid the mug across the table to Laurence. “Drink. As I understand, you’ll need it.”
Laurence still appeared tense, but he lifted the mug to his face, offering a friendly, “Cheers.”
Escalus began to relax as the coffee masked the other smells circulating the bistro. He wished to scratch at a spot on the tabletop with his long, thin nail, but such behavior was not befitting a prince. He folded his hands with feigned composure.
“The dead walk among us.”
Laurence glanced up from the edge of his coffee mug. “I am aware.” He set his mug down on a pre-existing coffee ring stain that could never be scrubbed clean.
With what little power he had, still so close to the church across the way, Escalus made an almost intangible motion in the air, and the bistro went silent. They were the only two moving in the place.
Laurence, worry lines rising on his face, looked around quickly. Escalus noted the hackles on the man’s neck rising to attention.
He continued, “For generations, my clan has been peaceful. We’ve kept mainly to ourselves. In fact, the Capulets have been benefactors to several hospitals in the area.”
“I know who you are. Why are you here?” Laurence’s hands trembled faintly as he gripped his mug.
Escalus took it from him, and filled it once more with coffee. “Worry not. I’ve promised your safety. I am here, for what happened between immortal and mortal should never have occurred. I wish to ensure the issue never rises again, and require your cooperation. I cannot do this alone.”
“The Capulets gained their wealth through managing half a dozen blood banks. What good have they done in the world outside of your own interests? What makes them worthy of forgiveness?”
Escalus leaned back in the booth.
“My dear Laurence, no creature, regardless of how unnatural, deserves an eternity of guilt.”
If man had venom in him, it rose in Laurence now. “I deeply doubt a herd of blood-sucking zombies regret what they did to those of my congregation.”
Escalus dug his nails into the underside of the table. It was within his power to throw the damn thing across the room, but he took a breath and steadied himself. “This is why I have stopped time,” he stated. “So that those around us would not know their Father is such a zealot.”
Laurence’s shoulders rose to his ears, and he gulped hard.
Escalus rose. “Truly it is for your benefit, not mine.” He paced past Laurence. “I am trying to make peace between our races, sir. It would be unwise to resist.”
Laurence looked up at him from the corner of his eyes, and nodded slowly.
The edge of Escalus’s mouth curled into a smile. “Good man.”
Laurence scooted closer to the blinds, peering through them. Escalus shook his head.
“Those outside are frozen in time, as well. No one will hear you scream.”
Laurence’s head whipped around, the blood draining from his face with big, wide eyes.
Escalus laughed. “I’m joking.”
“Let’s be done with it,” Laurence moaned.
“I can only keep time paused a short time while we are this close to your place of vocation, so we must make this brief. It is within our power to right the wrongs of Romeo and Juliet. Do you remember, Father Laurence?”
The man blinked, as though it was all coming back to him after being repressed for many years.
Escalus murmured, “Two households, both of great dignity, in fair Verona, where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge breaks new mutiny, and civil blood makes civil hands unclean….”
IN FAIR VERONA
Verona Heights, California
Years Ago….
Juliet Capulet squinted between the hundred-year-old drapes of her quarters. It was another beautiful day, with glorious sunlight glinting off the ocean waves, people strolling by on the pier, tanned bodies enjoying the surf and sand, and gulls coasting on the breeze. It made Juliet hungry, but not in the sense her plasma-aficionado parents would suspect. The human world was rolling by, and she could have none of it.
“Dreaming again, Jules?” a young man asked.
Juliet glanced over her shoulder with a smile. Her best friend and sired half-brother, Tybalt leaned in the doorway. The orange t-shirt he wore set off his sandy hair and golden eyes. He stepped closer to her, his khaki shorts rustling as he moved. Had he not been a member of the Capulet clan, he could easily be mistaken for one of the beach goers below.
“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” Juliet asked. “That everything I want is out there, and I’m stuck in here.”
Tybalt cocked his head. “How is that ironic?”
Juliet turned her attention back outside. “Well, that you get to go out tonight, and I never do.”
She sighed when he took her hand.
“I wish I could say you’ll get your day in the sun,” Tybalt murmured, “but you know what we are.”
Juliet nodded slowly. “Children of the night.”
Tybalt squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry your parents are so protective of you.”
“I’ve lived one hundred sixty years, Tybalt…” She looked to him, longing in her heart for freedom she’d never win. “But I’ve never really lived.”
“Juliet.”
Tybalt and Juliet looked up to see Lady Villiana Capulet enter the room, wreathed in smiles.
“I have wonderful news.” She stretched her arms out to Juliet.
“I finally get to go out with Tybalt tonight?” Juliet asked hopefully. “It’s my birthday.”
“Don’t be silly, dear,” her mother said. “You had a birthday a decade ago.”
Juliet’s shoulders slumped, and she grimaced. Tybalt stepped back. “I’m thinking I should go wait outside.”
“Nonsense,” Villiana said. “I want the whole family to hear this.” She gazed at Juliet. “My love, your father and I have just signed the documents. Count Paris— the grandson of Escalus, the High Prince himself— wishes to take your hand in marriage.”
The room seemed to spiral into motion, dizzying Juliet. She stumbled aside, reaching for the chaise against the wall. This couldn’t be happening. She was barely a teenager— as the daemon clock went. Marriage?
Her mother clapped her hands together. “Isn’t it wonderful? I’m so thrilled for you, darling.” She took a seat beside Juliet, intertwining their fingers. “You are to meet him tomorrow at the feast.”
The room didn’t want to stop spinning in Juliet’s mind. Her chest rose and fell hard. She knew so little of the world, in context, only what she read of it. How could they marry her off before she’d lived any of it?
“Can you imagine?” her mother went on. “You, so rare and beautiful. I feel as though the time has flown, and it was merely yesterday I birthed you.” She rose. Juliet stared up at her numbly. She thought if her mother were human, she would be cherry-cheeked with emotion. “I hear Paris is natural-born, too.”
Tybalt’s eyebrow arched. “Really?”
Villiana grinned. “Really!”
He folded his arms. “Quite the political coup there, my lady.”
Juliet clenched her fists, trying to hold it in. He wasn’t supposed to agree with her mother.
“Isn’t it though? You do realize what this means, don’t you?” Villiana asked. She leveled her gaze on Juliet. “Should you and Paris couple, an entirely new race could rise from your loins.”
Tybalt pretended to cough behind his wrist, but the wrinkles by his eyes told Juliet he was really laughing. Loins.
Villiana Capulet spread her hands in the air, as though opening a movie screen. “Imagine. An entire line of natural-born vampires. No more senseless killing.” She spun around, and took her daughter’s hands again. “Oh, my love, we shall be richly rewarded for this.”
Juliet tensed, then ripped her hands away, wheeling from her mother. Strange that she was old enough to be married off, but not to go out into the world alone. She ran a shaky hand through her platinum hair as the weight of the news sank in. “Is that all you care about? Immortality?”
“What else is there?” her mother volleyed. “Money is nice, and all, but in the long run they are only things. Immortality cannot be bought and sold like man’s materials. Therefore we are richer.” She took a deep breath, as though bracing herself for Juliet’s reaction. “We are… better.”
Time is immaterial, but my life is not. Apparently I can be bought and sold like it’s still the middle ages. Juliet groaned, and thumped her head against the wall. “Please leave.”
“Dearest,” Villiana reached for her.
Juliet pointed at the open door, grunting, “Leave.”
Her mother’s dress fluttered around her as she turned. Juliet sensed her pause and exchange unsaid words with Tybalt. If only she could mentally commune like they could. Each child of the night had their own set of abilities. Sadly, mind communion was not one of hers. She wasn’t even sure what her powers were, or how to control them. Maybe that was the real reason she never got to go out; unchecked, she was dangerous.
Juliet shrugged off Tybalt’s touch when he stepped to her side. “Don’t.”
He sighed, and left her, but before he got to the door she raised her head. “Wait.”
Tybalt tilted his head to the side with that curious look he did.
“Take me with you,” Juliet softly begged. “Don’t let me go through with this without knowing the world.”
Tybalt rubbed the back of his neck, looking apologetic. “She wants me to guard you.”
Juliet’s desperation grew within her. “You can do that in the human world.”
He frowned, then reached for his sunglasses atop his spiky hair and shoved them down. “Tybalt out.”
Verona Slums, California…
“Ro
saline, mi amor, you’re breakin’ my heart.”
Romeo Montague stared up at Rosaline from the edge of the pool. She leaned against the rail of the second floor of a motel converted into impoverished apartments. The awning above her shaded her olive skin and aqua bikini.
“Ay, Mami,” Romeo crooned. “Just listen to me.”
“Nuh-uh, lover boy. We’re done.”
“But why?”
“I told you I don’t like chicos no more.”
“That wasn’t my impression the other night.”
“That was goodbye. No necesita tener un chavo, tipo. Take your sorry, po’ boy ass someplace else, capisce?” Rosaline turned away from him, and went inside her apartment.
Romeo paced the edge of the pool cagily, kept company only by the scent of chlorine and Dreft detergent permeating the air. Finally, he yelled up at her, “Yeah, well, yo mama’s hair es como un bosque. No tan grueso, sino tan lleno de vida!”
He smirked momentarily, hoping the insult would rouse Rosaline back to the banister. The only sound that came from her room was her mother yelling at her to turn up the TV so she could hear her telenovela better. Rosaline would not even dignify him with an answer. He huffed and left. She was right; he was only a poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Tracks that were a very long walk away.
The closer he got to home and those tracks, the more defeated he felt. He and Rosaline had been a thing. When her father passed away, and she and her mother had to go live in that motel, Romeo stood by her through it all. Now she was dumping him?
Romeo kicked loose asphalt as he walked. Wasn’t being a teenager supposed to be the best years of your life? If this was living, it was misery.
He dragged his feet across the railroad tracks in the stifling heat. The government had given up on this part of town, leaving it too poor to grow many trees and offer shade. Yet even the intense orange sunset beating on his back couldn’t warm him after Rosaline’s rejection.
Romeo reached the block of duplexes where he lived. His feet rallied through their tiredness to bring him to the end of the block, past the group of burly, trouble-making culeros smoking and drinking. The stereo they huddled around seemed to quiet as he walked past. He didn’t want anything to do with the men, just to get home to his bed and shut the door.
