by H. T. Night
ROMEO
AND
JULIET
“A Vampire and Werewolf
Love Story #1”
by
H.T. Night
Acclaim for H.T. Night:
“H.T. Night is a riveting storyteller, capturing the essence of the vampire genre.”
—April M. Reign, author of I.O.U. and Dividing Destiny
“Vampire Love Story is a passionate story that is told from a refreshing perspective.”
—Summer Lee, author of Kindred Spirits and Shenanigans
“A hip and timely vampire novel filled with real characters and some of the coolest vampires since The Lost Boys! You’re going to love Night’s completely original take on the supernatural.”
—J.R. Rain, author of Moon Dance and The Body Departed
“Night tells the story from a funny, original perspective that keeps you on the edge of your seat.”
—Elaine Babich, author of Relatively Normal and You Never Called Me Princess
OTHER BOOKS BY H.T. NIGHnt>since T
WEREWOLF LOVE STORY SERIES
Werewolf Love Story (Prequel #1)
Then the Entwined Serial Novel Series
1. Entwined: The Rise of Kyro (coming in March)
2. Entwined: Loving Maya (coming in April)
VAMPIRE LOVE STORY SERIES
Vampire Love Story (Book #1)
The Werewolf Whisperer (Book #2)
Forever and Always (Book #3)
Vampires vs. Werewolves (Book #4)
One Love (Book #5)
VAMPIRE NOVELS WITH OTHER AUTHORS
Bad Blood: Book 1
(with Scott Nicholson and J.R. Rain)
BOOKS OF POETRY
Everlasting Love
Romeo and Juliet by H.T. Night
Published by H.T. Night at Amazon Kindle
Copyright © 2012 by H.T. Night
Kindle Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Kindle and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Eve Paludan. Her attention to detail and amazing gifts mean more to me than I can express. She is a very talented writer and editor, and I am very fortunate to know her.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Leslie Whitaker, Judy Thompson, Margaret Cervenkas, Liz Jones, Alberto Silva, J.R. Rain, April M. Reign, and Verna and John Hargrove for all of their help.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
About the Author
“One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun
Ne’er saw her match since first the world begun.”
- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, 1.2
Romeo and Juliet
Chapter One
I look
I stood by the silent, virtuous Lady, just on her left shoulder. Balancing my feet on such a great statue was always tricky. I could taste her overwhelming wet, coppery scent in my nose and mouth. The aroma was reminiscent of fresh blood, not altogether unpleasant.
I looked up into the dark cold night. It was unusual to see stars over our city, but the night was crisp with them, twinkling sparks on a black velvet nightscape, such a clear night that diamond rays from starlight illuminated the night sky like Jacob’s ladders extending from deep sky to tall buildings. It was a radiant night.
We were fortunate to have most of our land bought out for re-gentrification by a billion-dollar Prince. Prince Escalus. His very surname as a visionary developer was a legend in his own time. Not only was he rich, he was powerful, and masterful at rejuvenating entire cities. His approach into developing cities and remaking them was that his philosophy was simple: Keep the peace.
There was no place that needed peace more in this time than New York City. More specifically…Manhattan.
As I looked out from my 300-foot-high perch in the night shadow of the bosom of the lady, I marveled at the beauty of my Verona. My city was like a beautiful woman to me and my city had two competing lovers and a divided heart. I was reminded of which immortal species ruled these parts. Vampires and werewolves were as legendary and infamous in these parts as celebrities. In fact, we even had our own media network.
Verona was run, in part, by the two immortal families: the Capulets and the Montagues. They couldn’t have been more different in their culture and in their immortal forms. Montagues were from the wrong side of the tracks: a ruthless, cutthroat band of scorned misfits who succeeded anyway, with all the odds against them. They were crass and abrupt, and they always needed a shave, a bath, and a good haircut. But that came with the territory. The Montagues were cursed by a comedy of errors but brazenly got to their feet, every time.
Now the Capulets, they were cultured and liked the finer things in life: big houses, expensive cars, and especially, flaunting it to the Montagues.
As different as the two sides were in culture, they stood even further apart in their unlike immortality. The Capulets had chosen to live their remaining years here in Verona—it could be a million years, as they were long-lived as vampires. It fit their smug elitist attitudes to be so long in the tooth and aggravated the Montagues that there was no way to get rid of them.
The Montagues lived their days as werewolves: meat-eating, ass-kicking, moon-howling werewolves who lived day by day, close to the earth, as close to raw passion as creatures could ever get. Montagues were warm-blooded and therefore, had passion soaring through their veins. The Capulets had to take their blood from others, like the leeches on society that they were, by virtue of their curse. Most of them, save herrtht size=, were passionless, elitist, and cold. Only she was different. I swore inside of me that I had never laid eyes on a wonder of the world more captivating than she.
The problem was twofold. Immortality, dominance, and bloodlines separated Verona into two sides, nearly split right down the middle at Times Square. There were two immortal families in my city, bloodthirsty rivals who gave each other no quarter, and none was asked. They mostly kept to their own turf, and to their own kind. The two families were split along Times Square.
To the north of Times Square in the Upper East Side, the Capulets had bought out mansions that were turned into apartment buildings…that were now turned back into mansions. The family owned just about every building and had turned the section of the city into a place that turned up their noses at the Hamptons.
To the south of Times Square, and all the way down to the Financial District, was where the werewolves roamed. They were definitely not as rich as the Capulets, but they lived better than most folks. If werewolves were roaming, then one would likely see a Montague in their midst. Nearly all Montague men had chosen to live their days as werewolves. Montague families were spread out pretty evenly among Chelsea, an
d the East and West Villages. One could even find families in SoHo and Chinatown.
Until now, there had only been small skirmishes between the two dissonant factions, but my extraordinary senses of premonition and danger detected that all hell was about to break loose in a populous that was deep in celebration about the rebirth of art, culture, education, and creativity. A resurgence of passion for the city swept like a fiery new religion into the corners of every borough. It was as if people were crying out for a deeper purpose. I knew I was.
Things in this part of the world had been quite different for some time. In reality, the entire world was different. A hundred years ago, there had been a technology revolution that spurred the inevitable. We’d touched the moon and the planets with our humanity and our machines shot into outer space, and could go no further without bankrupting every country. A realization set in that we now needed to get in touch with our mortality, our inner space.
It was time for the world to turn on its fulcrum. I felt it. Time for the immortals to take their rightful place as the world’s muscle and minds. Religion and politics tried to prevent it from happening, but eventually, immortality reigned over mortality. Now, just two immortal factions stood at the helm of society, glaring at each other from opposite corners of the city.
In the madness, I had been given a gift from the gods. I had been given visions of a wondrous place. A place of peace, of hope and love. I had only seen it in my dreams, but on this night, I felt that my special place was near, as if I could almost touch it with my hands. Of late, something had come over me and it was only intensifying. I looked up at the stars and the full moon that pierced my mind’s eye with a pull that I knew well. I howled into the night sky. I howled from my deep place, where I had only seemed to been able to howl from as of late. I had been told that my howl was unique in that it had both the sounds of music playing and the reverence of a man crying out in prayer. It was a howl that had reduced some to tears when they heard it, such was its unique vibration, timbre, tone, and range. It was a yodel from across the Alps, a chorus of angels with one harmonized chord. My howl is my prayer and my song of all that I was, aonshat I wll that I am, and all that I shall be. Inside of me roiled a yearning for something more, hungering for something more. I howled in agony and ecstasy until tears dripped from my face and wet my body like scorching rain.
When I was finished, I looked over my city of Verona and cried out so loud that my throat roared, “My name is Romeo Montague and I am a Werewolf!”
Chapter Two
I stood up from the top of Miss Liberty’s shoulder and ran down her leg to the base of the statue. Once reaching the base, I leaped the final 200 feet to the ground below. When I hit the earth, I felt an incredulous freedom to be able to fly through the air. Yes, I was falling rather than flying, but it was all the same as far as I was concerned. It was the feeling of freedom.
Something had come over me the past two months that had caused me to long for somewhere else. I had a strong desire to find my place, my special place, the one that I had only seen in my dreams.
I slowly made my way to the back of the mighty statue. I turned from my werewolf form back to my human form. The best part about going from wolf to human was having hands again. Opposable thumbs were nice. Although I had mastered the art of holding a rapier in my wolf form—a rapier is what we call our silver stakes—silver stakes are the weapon of choice around these parts. They did more damage to an immortal, far more than an automatic weapon ever could.
I continued to walk behind the statue to a spot where the island was roped off right before the Hudson River. There was a restroom just to the left of the area. I fixed my hair in the reflection of the window with the help of an island lantern. My light brown hair flopped over and I pulled my hair back. I did my business and stepped outside the restroom then walked over to the roped-off area.
I looked out into the night over the Hudson. The beauty that was before me was possibly the most beautiful creation I had ever seen. This visual that was set before my eyes was my sanctuary. I didn’t have much of that in a place this corrupt. But where I was standing, watching the waves break into the shore on the island and looking out in the cool night sky, this was church in my book. My special place. Not as special as the place I had seen in my dreams, but as special of a place could be in times such as these.
I often came out to this island just to digest the magnitude of such a grand place. Even in today’s world, New York City, or Verona, had a pulse unlike any other place. What were once New Yorkers going through the daily grind, in which Wall Street brokers and homeless people shared the same subway, now a whole new breed of survivors existed in the great city. Survival of the fittest had been a mantra that most people lived by, even before Darwin coined the term many years ago.
This was my favorite spot to be in the world, facing the beautiful skyline without a worry in the world. Who was I kidding? I had many worries. I was a werewolf, and there were a lot of people who would like to see me and others like me dead and completely wiped out.
Something had come over me in the last few days. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I felt as if I was being led toward a goal. Something of majestic quality. A force so powerful that it brought tears to my eyes.
I remember the exact spot where I had felt the feeling for the first time. I was working, not that far away from here, at the butcher shop with Friar Laurence. Friar Laurence was my boss and my second father. I had worked for him since I was little boy.
On this particular day, I was ringing up a customer and suddenly, a power came over my body. It was a euphoria far greater than any that could be chemically manufactured. For the first time in my 18-year-old life, I felt hope, joy, and redemption, all in one mind-blowing moment. It nearly made me pass out.
All I knew was that the feeling was the closest I had ever felt to being in my Utopian dream. I know in my heart that it was a sign. I knew they were related. The only person I had ever mentioned the dream to was my best friend, Mercutio.
Mercutio is part of Prince Escalus kinsmen. He is a cousin to Paris on his mother’s side. Mercutio is the black sheep of the family because he falls into the special two percent. Only two percent of all immortals had the ability to do magic. So, nearly every human learned it to keep things on a level playing field. It was the underworld’s way of providing balance. It was balanced except when someone got the best of both worlds. Mercutio was one of the lucky ones. All the strength of an immortal and all the witchcraft of a warlock. In many ways, he was a better warlock than he is werewolf. He loved the concept of being immortal. Who could blame him? It takes such a specific injury to kill an immortal that it’s almost impossible to kill us.
In our case, we wanted no part of the rapier, or silver stake, anywhere near our hearts. It was much harder to kill a vampire and definitely one of their selling points during their recruitment process. You can kill a vampire, but cramming a silver stake from one side of their neck and out the other, it’s pretty gruesome. So, that is what I heard. I had never seen one killed.
I came out here so I didn’t have to think about what went on back at home. The problem is, when it was time to reflect, it was all I could think about. I didn’t want to think about silver stakes and automatic weapons. That was the life I left behind in Verona, one that was filled with worry and wondering who wanted to hurt me, and lurked behind every corner of the city. That is why I liked to come here. I liked seeing all comers head my way. There were no surprises on this island. Everything was out in the open. That’s the way I liked it.
As I stared out into the Hudson River and watched the wave break lightly on both sides, I was reminded of what was beautiful and what was harsh about this world.
Verona not only had a high population of both vampires and werewolves. There was a third entity and one that is just as dangerous. Just about every human learns witchcraft. Humans who chose not to take part in the art of immortality could choose a life skill that would
at least help them defend themselves from ruthless immortals who wanted their blood and meat.
Humans banded together in their warlock and witch covens. They were not nearly as strong as we are, but they were mighty in numbers, and now the fact that the Prince Escalus, the new Prince of Verona himself, was one itylf, wasof them, they might start to want to clean up and get out all the immortals. So, we were all on our toes around each other. Unfortunately, the only way to defeat muscle is by cash. The Capulets were rich, but the Ruling House of Verona was filthy rich. Werewolves and vampires might run the city from the inside out, but the face of our city was the Prince Escalus, and his second-in-command, Count Paris. They truly ran the city, because at the end of the day, they had the final say on anything in regard to laws and police force.
Suddenly, out from nowhere, I got tackled off my feet. I fell to the ground and someone was wrestling me. I had a problem, however; my attacker was invisible. The person pinned me down and then I felt my nose get pinched and I heard the sound of my best friend honk as he did so.
Chapter Three
“What’s up, Mercutio?” I laughed. “Just when I thought I had a perfect hideaway, you were able to sneak up on me.”
“Stealth is my middle name.” Mercutio used his magic and he reappeared. “You and this island just need to get a room and just get it over with. If I see you kneel down and kiss the ground that you walk on, I’m going to puke.”
I looked at Mercutio and grinned. “Very well, then. I’ll refrain from making love to the island in your presence. Far be it from me to make my best friend hurl. But why do you bother me out here when you know I want to relax and have some alone time?”
