by Ann Hunter
Juliet sounded as apprehensive as he felt. “You’re not angry with me, are you? I wanted to surprise you…” She glanced at Romeo, adding quickly, “and Paris.”
Her father finally broke his silence. “He will be pleased to know you are capable. Paris will have a hunt mate.”
Juliet looked relieved. She moved behind Romeo once more, shoving him up the stairs toward her mother who was not so appeased.
“I’ve been hiding him in the greenhouse,” Juliet said. “When you mentioned you needed more help, I thought it was a good time to bring him in.”
The fire in her mother’s eyes dulled. She almost turned her nose up at Romeo. “Take him to your room, and bathe him. He smells.”
Juliet shoved Romeo again, heading up to the right wing. “Of course.”
“Prepare him for dinner,” Villiana murmured after her.
Romeo officially yelped.
“Still fresh!” Juliet called back, jabbing him in the kidneys.
He stumbled up the stairs and continued down the corridor, until she turned him in to a room furnished in mahogany. It looked as old as Juliet said she was, with a four-poster bed and green drapes. The room almost looked Victorian, like pictures Romeo had studied in history class.
Juliet guided him to a panel on her wall that slid open when she pressed a hidden button. The bathroom inside was nicer than any Romeo had seen. She went inside and started filling the tub.
“I really have to wash?” he asked incredulously.
Juliet passed him a bar of soap. “Smell like a meat bag, or a servant, your choice.”
He lifted the bar to his nose and inhaled, then sputtered in a cough. “What’s in this?”
“Cedar, mostly. A twist of lavender, a hint of frankincense.”
“It smells like a coffin.”
Juliet smirked. “Yeah.”
The tub finished filling. Romeo reached for a towel, and looked at Juliet. “Are you going to stand there and watch, or...”
Her shoulders rose to her ears. “Oh, sorry.” She walked away from the bath, and took a seat across her bedroom so he could have his privacy.
Romeo slipped into the bath and bit his lip. “Why is the water cold?”
“You’re dead, remember?”
He groaned, but lowered himself into the tub. Cold water, and fusty soap. Great. Romeo struck up conversation to get his mind off of things. “You can read minds? I’ve always wanted to do this. Rapido, tell me what I’m thinking.”
“Not all of us can. I can’t.”
“But your parents can?” he asked, scrubbing his leg.
“And Tybalt.”
“Who’s he?”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll meet him tonight. He came for me at the dance.”
“I think I remember.” Romeo rinsed behind his neck. “What can you do?”
“I’m still figuring out my abilities.”
He continued to wash himself, intent on cleaning away his human scent. “How are we going to pull this off tonight if they know what we’re up to?”
“They can’t find out. You’re here to earn money. I’ll pay you.”
“Won’t they turn into trolls and know I’m trying to steal their money?”
“Just…” Juliet didn’t sound so sure of her plan. Her words were frustrated, “Don’t think about it!”
Easier said than done.
Romeo got out of the tub as the water turned tepid and his fingers went all pruny. He wrapped a towel around his waist, then grabbed a second towel to dry his hair. Juliet’s gaze traveled from his mouth down to his navel, before she looked away bashfully.
She crossed to a trunk at the foot of her bed, and produced a set of plain servant’s clothes. “Here.”
“You, uh, keep those around just in case?” Romeo took them back into the bathroom to change.
“I’m expected to take a thrall eventually, so yes. Lucky you.”
If the Capulets were a clan of mind readers, Romeo would have to think with his heart. Think only of Juliet, as a thrall would.
Suddenly, the crazy plan didn’t seem so difficult.
Juliet smoothed over her gown as the head servant heralded the arrival of their honored guests.
“His Royal Highness, Prince Escalus.”
The High Prince strode in, followed by, “His Excellency Count Paris.”
They had a lofty look to them, like they knew they were highborn, and everyone else was not. Juliet thought Paris might look down on her, and not see her as an equal, even though they were to be wed.
Before Paris could lay his eyes on her, Juliet’s father took him aside with a an expression of pride; his chest puffed so proudly, it was near to bursting. What he whispered in Paris’s ear made the Count smile. No doubt mentioning the catch Juliet had made to please him. What would she do when he approached? Present Romeo like a mouse in feline’s jaws? She had already put Romeo in harm’s way enough. Who knew what Paris was capable of when he got close?
Romeo glimpsed her from across the room, and started for her. Paris walked toward her, too, and Juliet’s anxiety only grew into fear. Why was overthinking her super power?
There was a pounding in her ears, like the racing beat of a war drum. She closed her eyes so tight, her face scrunched.
“What happened?” Romeo’s voice was soft and confused.
Juliet gradually opened one eye. The room was still. All noise had died away. “I… I think I stopped time.”
She sounded just as surprised as Romeo. Juliet was able to look at Paris fully. He was tall, lean, and dark of hair. His angled nose and sharp jaw leant to his rugged looks. Any other vampire would kill to have him.
Juliet inhaled sharply when Romeo touched her hand.
“If you find my hands too rough, I have two gentle lips,” he murmured.
Juliet swallowed, pushing back all the intensity of nerves she’d felt a moment before. “No. Don’t speak so meanly of your hand. When two hands touch like this, they kiss.” She rolled her hand over in his so that their palms met. The sensation of his skin grazing hers, warm against cold, sent delicious feelings through her. “See what lovely kiss this is?”
He moved closer. Their bodies touched and they stayed like that, pressed to one another, for a long time. “Si. Verdad.”
Juliet gradually calmed and relaxed. Something about Romeo’s contact soothed her. If only this moment would last.
She tensed when she saw that Tybalt seemed very much in motion, and headed toward them. It was enough to make the world speed up again, much to Juliet’s chagrin. She’d lost control of the one thing keeping her from Paris’s clutch. And now Tybalt knew Romeo was still alive.
Romeo broke away, covering for the both of them, unaware of Tybalt’s approach. “As you wish, mistress.”
The world set in motion once more, Tybalt cut off Count Paris. “Oh, I’m so sorry your Excellency.”
They bumped shoulders, and Paris staggered. “I beg your pardon.”
Tybalt took Juliet by the elbow. “I’m sure you’re both very eager to get to know one another, but I must borrow her. It will only be a moment.”
Paris looked to Juliet, then to Tybalt. He bowed. “Bring her back, will you?”
Tybalt flashed his boyish grin, before rushing Juliet to the balcony. “Of course.”
Juliet knew, just knew Tybalt was on to her plan. He took her aside under the stars, jabbing a finger in Romeo’s direction. “What’s he doing here?”
Juliet moved her lips to speak, but no words were willing to volunteer.
“You are more cruel than your mother, do you know that?” he hissed.
“Cruel?” Juliet choked.
“You’ve lead him into a den of lions. Show him mercy before he gets himself killed.”
“But— ”
Tybalt lowered his head to hers, giving her a hard stare. “If you can’t kill him, take him as a thrall. Your real thrall.”
“What kind of mercy is that?” She wrenched her arm away.
“We’re vampires, Jules. We’re not in it for mercy, we’re in it for blood.”
“Tybalt!”
“Violent delights have violent ends, Jules, and in their triumph die. He’s a threat to you, and a threat to this clan. It stops now.” Tybalt straightened his waistcoat, and smoothed over his ascot, stormed toward the front of the house.
Juliet was quick to pursue him. “What are you going to do?”
“End it.”
VIOLENT DELIGHTS
Tybalt crouched on a rooftop, surveying the impoverished Verona Slums. The warm night air swirled through his hair as he listened to the noise below. In the distance, a small dog yipped obnoxiously, squad car sirens wailed, and the sound of a stereo blaring mariachi music pulled his attention forward.
What did he know of the Montagues? Only that Juliet refused to give up her pet, Romeo, and that he still smelled faintly of chipotle. Romeo had washed as a thrall did, but that spicy undertone unmistakably remained.
Tybalt had left them at the party with only a warning to Juliet. He had promised her he would always protect her, and the Capulet clan. Romeo posed a threat Juliet could not understand. He was human, still alive, and the tryst must end. Unfortunately for Tybalt, the majority of the Slums smelled of chipotle.
He wrinkled his nose in distaste. The ground noise was too much to sort through, even by reading minds. However, he’d followed the Montague scent this far, and refused to go back to Capulet Manor in Verona Heights before this task was through.
He dropped to the ground, sticking to the shadows, and moved further into town. Not a single thought from anyone mentioned the name Montague. Tybalt was beginning to wonder if he was in the right place. It wasn’t like he could walk up to someone and ask where the Montagues lived. He was still dressed to the nines from Juliet’s engagement feast; tux, ascot, and all.
Then, a stroke of luck. A quick flash of the name Romeo from a duplex a ways on. Tybalt sent his hearing forward, listening for any more intel.
“Where is your brother?”
“He hooked up with a girl named Juliet.”
“And you just left him there?”
“Ay, Mami, he’s going to be fine. She’s muy rica.”
A sneer of satisfaction curled the corner of Tybalt’s mouth. He raced forward, hooked on the voices. They grew louder in his mind, until he came upon the duplex where they were arguing inside. A group of men circled the stereo blasting mariachi music he’d heard earlier, their eyes lit only by the embers of their cigarettes glinting off beer bottles.
Tybalt rammed his shoulder into the Montague’s door. Given his supernatural strength, it only took one blow and the door swung wide. It was a wild scramble inside; a startled mother, and two big sons. The largest put himself between Tybalt and the mother, while the other brother stepped forward.
“Who the hell are you?”
Tybalt didn’t hesitate. He raced toward them, tossing the younger brother aside and barreling past the larger one. Tybalt grabbed the mother by her collar, baring his fangs with intent to bleed her dry. You take away someone’s mother, and what do they have to live for?
He was about to sink into her, but made the mistake of meeting her eyes with his. The look on her face triggered the memory of his own mother. Not Villiana Capulet, but the mother he had loved…before. Before the plague, before Villiana had found him near death and turned him. That look of wide-eye fear when you realize your fight is over. So helpless.
Before Tybalt could push the rush of emotion away, someone wrapped a python of an arm around his neck and hauled him off. He was swept away and pinned to the ground faster than he realized. A mountainous fist pummeled his jaw until human blood formed over mocha skin. Spurred on by the scent of blood, Tybalt laughed. This colossus could jackhammer his face all day, and it wouldn’t make a difference.
Tybalt pushed back with a roar, baring his fangs once again. He leapt for the eldest brother, but was restrained; tackled by the younger. Now both of the young men had him pinned down.
“Who are you?”
Tybalt smirked, letting them see the intent of his fangs. “I am Tybalt Capulet, and you will die tonight.”
The mother appeared behind the brothers, raising a comal pan worthy of zombie slaying. “Not if I have anything to say about it,” she said with a thick Mexican accent. “Why have you come?”
“Your son, Romeo, is meddling in the affairs of my clan.” He struggled against the brothers, but one of them slammed his head against the ground. An elbow pushed against his temple, keeping him in place. “If I eliminate you, Juliet will have no choice but to put him out of his misery— one way or another.”
There was silence between the Montagues. Tybalt glanced to Selena, then caught the edge of the eldest brother’s gaze. He heard Selena’s thoughts, and answered them.
“I am exactly what you think I am. The dead walk among us. Your heritage alone has told you that.”
“Vampiro,” she gasped.
“Yes.” Tybalt laughed. “Vampire.”
Selena gave a nod to her sons, who locked their arms through Tybalt’s and lifted him up.
Tybalt raised his chin in defiance, noting the crucifix on the wall. A religious family. “Even if you let me go, your god won’t protect you.”
Selena’s eyes narrowed. “Send back my son, and we’ll make sure you never see us again.”
Tybalt’s eyes narrowed. A fair bargain. “I’d rather taste your blood. Your boy is a villain, and he smells.”
One of the young men wove their fingers through Tybalt’s hair and snapped his head back. He glared down his nose at Selena. She squinted back at him. Slowly, Tybalt felt his power draining. What was happening? Did this woman have some sort of voodoo? Were they more than mere mortals?
He didn’t want to appear the coward, but if he stayed much longer, he’d be no better than they were; weak, defenseless creatures. Tybalt wrenched himself away from the brothers. “Alright,” he conceded. “But if I ever catch him around Juliet again, all of your blood will be mine.”
“Get out,” the eldest brother growled.
Tybalt fixed his dinner jacket, and smoothed his ascot. Selena glared at him. The further he got from her, the more he felt his strength returning. But something about her struck a glimmer of fear in him. It wasn’t often a mortal drained him. Tybalt out, he mentally asserted as he lurched through the apartment door.
Juliet gripped the balcony banister, trying to ground herself after Tybalt stormed out. She inhaled deeply, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Maybe she could stop time again, give herself a moment to recompose. How had she done it? Why wasn’t Tybalt or Romeo affected? The fragrance of the roses in the garden below filled her senses, but it wasn’t enough to help her stop time. She jumped when someone touched her shoulder.
“Is everything alright?”
Juliet looked behind her to find Count Paris with a genuine look of concern. She braced against the stone rail behind her, swallowing nervously. “Fine. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Paris smiled gently, which only complimented his handsome, high cheekbones. “It’s alright. It was too crowded in there anyway.” He stepped beside her, leaning against the rail.
A moment of quiet passed between them. Crickets played a sonata to the tune of a light breeze.
“You’re very pretty,” Paris said.
“Pretty is as pretty does.” Juliet laughed awkwardly, then felt an odd sense of embarrassment. “As my mother says. I don’t do a whole lot.”
“Nonsense. I hear you took your first thrall recently. You are to be congratulated.”
Juliet tried not to wince. Poor Romeo. Would Paris expect to meet him still? She readjusted her grip on the stone. “Thank you.”
“Of course. It’s a very exciting time. I remember when I took my first…” Paris went on, but Juliet only listened passively. Romeo was still serving inside at the party. How long before her family figured out he was still alive? Tybalt hadn’t taken long at all
. If her parents, or another elder vampire… Oh no. Escalus.
The High Prince himself, the eldest of all, the big bad. If Romeo got too close, he’d be discovered for sure. Juliet inhaled sharply, accidentally interrupting Paris. “Does your grandfather care for deviled eggs?”
He looked at her quizzically. The question had obviously thrown him off. “He can’t stand them. Why do you ask?”
Juliet’s shoulders fell in relief. Her grip loosened on the rail. Romeo had the eggs. She feigned a smile. “More for us.”
“I prefer filet mignon, extra rare, and a glass of good burgundy.” Paris offered his arm to her. “Shall we go inside? I’d love to introduce you to my grandfather.”
“Couldn’t you tell me more about yourself?” she asked quickly, trying to buy time.
He cocked his head to one side, smiling. “We have all the time in the world to get to know one another. We are only meeting, and shall meet and meet again.”
Juliet still hesitated, dreading drawing attention to herself or Romeo. Paris took her hand unabashedly and raised it as though to kiss, but instead, with a wave of his other hand, produced a translucent, glittering white rose and offered it to her.
“You’re an illusionist?” she reached for the rose in wonder. Her fingers passed through it, but curiously they still felt the velvet petals, and sensed the lovely fragrance. Her mouth formed a little oh. “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never met one.”
Paris squeezed her hand, and gave a little bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Capulet.” He drew her hand close to him, slipping it under his arm, and led her inside.
Juliet’s ease was fleeting. The closer Paris led her to Escalus, the more she felt her panic returning. She pushed it all away though, for fear of him picking it up and asking too many questions.
Paris cleared his throat. “Grandfather?”
Escalus slowly turned from the guest he was speaking to. His light hair had a strawberry tint to it, that flowed down to his shoulders. Juliet had never seen green eyes like his, like two shining emeralds hiding behind blue-black pupils. There were even faded freckles over the bridge of his nose and cheeks. If he didn’t seem so imposing, he’d almost be elfin. He had a glamour about him that made her feel very small indeed. But when he smiled, the corner of his eyes wrinkled like her mother’s.
