Juliet remembered what she and Tybalt were like back when they were playmates. She had always been somewhat shy, but even so, she enjoyed Tybalt’s rambunctious nature. But they were older now and Juliet had turned into a headstrong woman, while Tybalt became an overgrown child.
“Well, I do not feel like being nice, Tybalt! The peace treaty states that ‘no harm should come to anyone.’ What do you call this?”
“I don’t believe that turning this woman into a powerful and immortal being is harming her,” Tybalt said firmly. “Besides, the peace treaty is nothing but an act of tyranny leveled against our race. I should have the right to pursue liberty, satisfaction, and survival, like anyone else in Transylvania.”
“Do I really need to point out that the Capulets are not like everyone else?”
Tybalt heaved a sigh of exasperation. “Why are you so argumentative? It is such an unappealing trait in a woman.”
“It seems to work for my mother,” she replied.
“Ah, well, that’s probably who you get it from,” Tybalt countered.
“Take that back. I am nothing like her!” Juliet said, shoving Tybalt in the chest.
“Yes, you are,” Tybalt said, laughing. “You are both stubborn and hardheaded and determined to drive everyone around you insane.”
Juliet shoved him again, so hard that he almost lost his balance. “That’s a terrible thing to say. And it’s not even true!”
“Oh, I hate to cut our conversation short, Juliet, but I should check on my lady friend. We must hurry along and return to the party before anyone suspects anything.” Tybalt coughed into his hands in order to smell his breath.
“That’s quite all right, Tybalt. I think we’ve talked long enough,” Juliet said with all the sarcasm she could muster.
Since he’d transitioned, her cousin had been passionate about only two things—seducing women and killing Montagues, or whoever else Vladimir ordered him to obliterate. As she stared at Tybalt’s cherubic-looking face, she wished that one day he’d wake up a kinder, gentler version of himself. Maybe then she’d be better able to put up with him and his teasing. But this was another one of those unattainable wishes that Juliet’s nurse had warned her about.
“You won’t see me or my companion down here again, Cousin, I promise,” Tybalt said, grinning so that his pointed teeth were now visible.
An ominous sense of foreboding suddenly ripped through Juliet’s soul and she could not shake it. Juliet knew in her heart that she never would see Tybalt down here again, but not because he was a man of his word. As Tybalt turned away from her and reentered the cell, Juliet dashed down the dark underground corridor, hoping to outrun all the fears that were closing in all around her.
CHAPTER SIX
With Mercutio and Benvolio right alongside him, Romeo took his first steps into the Great Hall, which was still filled to capacity with his family’s longtime enemies. He strolled along the edge of the crowd, his posture confident and a topaz-colored cap hanging slightly over his eyes so that his face was partially obscured. His cousins were wearing similar hats, thanks to the generosity of Maribel the servant maid, who helped them with their disguises after the power of the necklaces wore off. Somehow, she had managed to acquire some very formal attire that was bulky and ornate enough to mask all of their identities—and their secret weapons. If Romeo had bumped into Benvolio or Mercutio in town wearing these silken capes and other accessories, he certainly wouldn’t have recognized them.
While he surveyed the crowd for a glimpse of his sweet Rosaline, Romeo was relieved to see that the costumes they were wearing seemed to have fooled the Capulets. The vampires floated about, conversing with each other gaily, without noticing that the Montagues had infiltrated their soiree.
“So this is what these disgusting mongrels do when they aren’t massacring innocent people,” Benvolio mumbled as he monitored the vampires’ every move.
“From the looks of all this commingling, it appears that peace in Transylvania might actually be achieved,” Romeo said. He watched in amazement as two men on his left—one vampire, one human—chuckled with each other. Romeo never thought he’d see the day.
“Maybe you should keep your opinions to yourself until you’ve seen a Capulet murder someone you care about,” Benvolio replied.
“It’s not Romeo’s fault that he isn’t old enough to join us on the front lines,” Mercutio said in his friend’s defense.
Romeo gave Benvolio a cold, hard stare. “Honestly, I’m glad that I haven’t fought in any of your battles. All it has done is turn you into a bloodthirsty savage.”
“I am a savage?” Benvolio grabbed him by the arm, twisting his sleeve so tight that Romeo’s wrist turned a bright shade of pink. “You better take that back.”
“Or what?” Romeo taunted. He was sick of Benvolio’s bullying, especially now when he needed his cousin’s help.
Mercutio suddenly broke in between them, holding two large chalices in his hands and smiling as though he’d just ingested a liter of ale. “Good fellows!” he said cheerily. “Stop bickering and be merry. We are among our dear friends!”
Then he shoved both glasses at Romeo and Benvolio, and quickly huddled together with them, whispering, “Who might try to tear us limb from limb if they find out who we really are.”
Romeo realized Mercutio was right and reminded himself why he was putting all of them at great risk—the beautiful and perfect Rosaline. Arguing with Benvolio would only put his plan in jeopardy.
Romeo held up his chalice and grinned at Benvolio. “Agreed, Mercutio. We must behave as gentlemen.”
Benvolio was still clearly angry, but he held up his glass anyway and tipped it politely toward Romeo. “That is the difference between you and me, Cousin. You consider yourself a gentleman, but I am now, and will always be, a warrior.”
“I will drink to that.” Romeo bowed to Benvolio, hoping to show his cousin some respect for his bravery, which could not be denied, no matter how Romeo felt about the violence between his family and the Capulets.
“And so will I,” Benvolio said, his eyes gleaming a little.
They took a sizable gulp of their drinks. Instantly, they dropped their cups to the floor in horror, spitting the vile substance out of their mouths and onto Mercutio and his fine silken smock.
“My God, Mercutio! Where did you get this?” Benvolio said through a series of coughs.
Mercutio wiped some spit off his cheek with the back of his hand. “I took it from one of the servants’ trays! Did the wine taste that bad?”
Romeo was coughing so much his eyes were watering. “Mercutio, this is not wine. This is…blood.”
Mercutio’s skin went as pale as the nearest vampire. “I suppose I should have taken a whiff of it first.”
“I suppose I should wring your neck,” Benvolio said, shaking Mercutio by his shirt collar.
Romeo was about to intervene when a tall and menacing figure glided toward them. Romeo had seen this vampire before, wenching and wreaking havoc at the pubs in town. His name was Tybalt, and as Romeo stared into his hellish red eyes, it seemed as though a moment of reckoning was upon them.
“Good evening, sirs. Is there something wrong with your beverages?” Tybalt asked in a simpering voice.
Romeo glanced at Benvolio, whose hand was dangling near his pocket, where he knew a small, blunt wooden stake was hidden from view. Romeo tried to remain calm and act in a jovial manner, but given how intimidating Tybalt was, it was difficult.
“No, not at all,” Romeo replied in a cavalier tone. “They were just a little weak in taste.”
Tybalt peered down at Romeo’s goblet, his eyebrows rising with suspicion. “You certainly are adventurous. Most of our human guests prefer wine over pig’s blood.”
“Just like you, we are different from most humans,” Mercutio quipped.
Tybalt gestured toward a servant, who came by with another tray of goblets and extended it toward Romeo. “Please try another. Perhaps your
s was just tainted with parasites.”
Reluctantly, Romeo reached for another goblet, his stomach rumbling at the thought of the foul taste the first sip had left on his tongue. Then out of the corner of his eye, Romeo saw a flash of chocolate brown. A young maiden with hair similar to Rosaline’s had just melted into the throng of people standing around. Romeo’s heart leaped into his throat, his passion winning out over sanity.
“Unfortunately, I must decline your offer,” he said while trying to keep his eye on where the maiden wandered off to.
“And why would you do that?” Tybalt cracked his knuckles and smirked.
Romeo could see that Tybalt was looking for a reason to become aggressive, so he tried to placate him. He didn’t have a moment to lose. Rosaline was most likely on the other side of the room—a new suitor was bound to approach her. “I beg your pardon, sir. I meant no offense.”
“Do not beg for anything from him, Cousin,” Benvolio said through gritted teeth. “This villain deserves nothing but a nice old-fashioned beheading.”
Tybalt’s smirk turned into a wide, sinister smile, his sharp teeth clearly visible as he growled like a wolf. He grabbed Romeo by the neck and brought him close so that Romeo’s face was within devouring range. “You were crazy to think you could hide your Montague stench from me.”
Mercutio sidled up to Tybalt, subtly pulling a dagger out of his jacket and pressing it against Tybalt’s ribs. “Sorry to show up unannounced, but we were so distraught that we did not receive an invitation,” he said.
Benvolio reached around to the back of his trousers and pulled out a sharp wooden stake, pointing it straight at Tybalt’s chest. “Could you blame us? Our families have been so close over the years.”
Tybalt’s grip around Romeo’s throat only got tighter. “Can any of you idiots count? There are three of you and three hundred of me. None of you are getting out of here alive.”
Romeo was stunned by what was happening. In mere seconds, a roomful of Capulets could unite and rip him, Benvolio, and Mercutio to shreds. But when Prince Radu and his host, Lord Capulet, suddenly emerged from the crowd, Romeo realized he might be able to end this situation peacefully.
“Dear Prince! Lord Capulet!” he croaked as loudly as he could.
He caught their attention immediately, as well as the attention of Tybalt, Benvolio, and Mercutio, who were moments away from killing one another.
“Over here!” Romeo waved an arm above his head frantically, making a spectacle. The great Lord Capulet looked a bit skittish as he and Prince Radu approached.
“What is the meaning of all this commotion?” Lord Capulet said, seeming to be extremely displeased with Romeo’s antics.
“My lord, these repulsive creatures are Montagues.” Tybalt reluctantly let go of Romeo’s neck and shoved him away. “I was just about to—”
“Introduce us!” Romeo interrupted, shaking Lord Capulet’s hand before Tybalt could do or say anything else.
Lord Capulet and the rest of the lot gawked at each other, totally stunned.
“Is that so?” he asked, steeling a quick, uncertain glance at his nephew.
“Of course!” Romeo threw his arm around Tybalt as if they were childhood friends. “We were so happy that you extended an olive branch to us and requested that we join your celebration here. Weren’t we, men?”
Benvolio and Mercutio looked at each other and shrugged, putting their weapons down at their sides.
“And all of this is because of you, Prince Radu,” Romeo went on, shaking the prince’s hand. “You and your peace treaty have changed Wallachia for the better, and I for one applaud Lord Capulet for being such a strong proponent of it.”
Prince Radu’s eyes lit up, obviously pleased by what he’d just heard. “I applaud him, too.” He turned to Lord Capulet and smiled. “This is a great achievement, and I am thoroughly impressed with your family.”
Romeo looked at Lord Capulet, who at first had an indignant expression on his face, but soon it transformed into one of submission. “Thank you, Prince. We were hoping you would feel that way after being here and meeting us.”
A vein in Tybalt’s pale forehead pulsated as he punched the air in frustration. “This is preposterous! They are our mortal foes! They should be hanged or disemboweled for daring to set foot on our property.”
“I thought I had put an end to those kinds of barbaric acts,” the prince said to Lord Capulet, obviously dismayed by how Tybalt was behaving.
“Listen closely, Nephew. These men will remain at the ball and no harm will come to them,” Lord Capulet said, staring Tybalt down. “Is that understood?”
A disgruntled Tybalt nodded in affirmation, then stalked out of the Great Hall without saying another word.
Lord Capulet turned in the opposite direction and held his arm out in front of him. “Come, Prince Radu. Let us join Count Paris in the courtyard. There is much for us to talk about.”
Once Lord Capulet and the prince took leave of them, Benvolio and Mercutio doubled over in laughter, trying to catch their breath in between gasps.
“Romeo, I cannot believe you just did that!” Mercutio said as he clutched at his side.
“Leave it to you to talk your way out of being killed,” Benvolio added. “I have never seen the mighty Tybalt sulk like a baby before.”
Romeo, however, was too focused on searching for Rosaline to engage in his cousin’s and friend’s antics. Once again, his eyes drifted from woman to woman, seeking out the most delicate skin and most radiant smile he had ever encountered. After a brief moment or two, he noticed a petite maiden crossing the floor about fifty feet away. She was wearing a white-lace-and-emerald-green gown, which showed off an alluring figure that Romeo knew to be Rosaline’s. He had fantasized about the curve that went from her waist to her hips almost every night before he went to sleep. Now was his chance to properly court her.
Romeo did not even think to excuse himself from his company. He just darted off into the crowd, slipping by vampire after vampire as though they were harmless. He did not even flinch as they floated through the room, their tongues licking dots of pig’s blood from their lips and their eyes glowing bright red. All he could see was the back of Rosaline’s head, her hair cascading down her shoulders as she halted in front of a marble column in the Great Hall and leaned up against it.
Romeo was only steps away from her when she turned around and looked in his direction. When her eyes locked upon him, he thought he might burn up with fever and die right there in that very spot.
At one time, the thought of dying might have troubled Romeo, much like his disturbing vampire dream from the night before. But all of a sudden he was no longer afraid of death. He was no longer afraid of anything. This delirious trance had rid him of every worry and filled him with a joy so all-encompassing that if he were to take his last breath before the sun came up tomorrow, his last words would be “Do not mourn me, for I have truly loved.”
Romeo could not break away from the maiden’s potent stare, and even if he could, he would not. Her face was that of a heavenly cherub, a perfect creation by the hands of God. Her eyes were like gemstones, glittering at the bottom of a deep blue sea. By the way she carried herself, he could tell that she was as graceful as a swan; and from the way she kept looking at him, he knew that her soul was meant to find his.
Without a doubt, this girl was Romeo’s destiny, but she was not Rosaline Capulet.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Good evening, my lady.”
Four words. That is all it took to shake the protective wall around Juliet’s heart down to its very foundation. A simple greeting, yet, at the same time, the most glorious thing she had ever heard a man say. It was the “my” that stuck with her. He had said the word as though he had been searching for her for many years, perhaps even his entire lifetime. This courteous and undeniably handsome gentleman—with soulful eyes, thin, pink lips, and a hint of stubble along his cheeks and chin—could not stop gazing at her either. Juli
et had no idea that being singled out in a roomful of people could feel this wonderful.
But she knew better than to wear her heart on her sleeve. Over the last two years, her nurse had given her plenty of advice on how to relate to men, and the number one rule was that women should be mysterious, coy, and say very little. Considering how dry Juliet’s mouth had suddenly become, not speaking would be effortless indeed. She also remembered that her nurse had mentioned that men loved the thrill of the chase. But with her legs feeling as though they were about to melt like the hot wax of a candle, she realized that it was too late for her to run.
But why would she want to? One look at this man and instantly Juliet hoped to stay with him—until the moon and stars died, and all that survived was sunlight.
“Are you waiting for someone?”
The sound of his voice was so full and melodic, Juliet was mesmerized and still could not speak. She just nodded her head in response.
“I see.” He briefly lowered his eyes to his feet, then engaged her with a small grin. “Well, I must admit, I feel as though it is my duty to watch over you until your suitor returns.”
Juliet smiled back. “That is kind of you, sir, but what makes you think I am waiting on a man?”
“Well, I, uh…” He trailed off and glanced up at the sky as though he were praying for the right answers. After a short pause, he looked Juliet in the eyes, his smoldering gaze sending chills throughout her body.
“I was going to say something about your stunning beauty, my lady. But you appear far too intelligent to fall for flattery.”
Juliet put her hand over her heart in hopes that she could slow it down. “That’s probably the nicest compliment I have ever received.”
“So have you ever been to a place with more nefarious creatures?” he said, peering around the room.
Juliet nearly laughed at the unintended irony of his question. “I suppose you are referring to the vampires.”
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