Romeo Redeemed (Juliet Immortal)

by Stacey Jay

  The Mercenaries have her.

  By the time the final bell rings, I’m sure of it, and am just as sure that I’m not going to survive losing her. In my old body, in the mist, in a paradise filled with golden light—it doesn’t matter where I spend eternity if I know that I’ve failed Ariel. The first time I killed her with my own hands, but this isn’t so different. I gave the Mercenaries the chance they needed. And now they have her and they’ll torture her until they destroy every beautiful, brave, innocent thing.

  I should never have left her alone.

  I walk faster, pushing past sluggish, stupid children talking about what they’re going to wear to the dance and who’s picking up whom in what kind of limo. Their happy chatter is more meaningless than ever. Because Ariel is missing, stolen away while I was doing what I thought I had to do to protect her, and accomplishing nothing.

  Juliet’s nurse wasn’t as easily conned as I’d assumed she was. She must have seen through me last night. By the time I reached the cave, there was nothing there but a lingering rotten smell, like the inside of a garbage can that had just been emptied.

  Empty. Gone. Lost.

  Stupid. Imbecile. Fool.

  I break into a run.

  “Slow it down, Stroud!” the principal yells, but I’m already on the concrete path heading toward the parking lot.

  I race for the car—no idea where I’m going, but knowing I have to get there fast. I already checked Ariel’s house during lunch. No one was home, and her cell rings and rings without any answer. I went back to school hoping she’d end up there, but the afternoon passed without any sign. Now I don’t even know where to start looking, but I’ll drive every back road in the valley searching if I have—

  Wait. By Dylan’s car, leaning over the hood, scribbling on a piece of paper. Her back is to me and she’s wearing a gray sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over her head, but I’d know those slim hips anywhere. It’s her. She’s here!

  I sprint across the asphalt. “Ariel!”

  She spins, blue eyes wide, face so pale she looks like a ghost of herself. Something awful has happened, but at least she’s here. Together we’ll find a way to keep her safe. She opens her arms, and I scoop her up, crushing her against me. Her body is warm and whole and so precious, it hurts.

  “I was so afraid,” she whispers. “I thought Gemma might have come for you while I was at her house getting her stuff.” Her arms tighten around my neck. I clutch her closer, shaking with relief.

  “It’s Gemma, then?” I suspected the Mercenaries would come creeping in someone close to Ariel. I curse myself again for leaving her alone.

  Ariel nods. “She’s one of them. You wouldn’t believe the things she was saying.”

  “You’re safe now.” No thanks to me. “I promise I won’t—”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” she sobs. “I hate myself.”

  “This isn’t your fault.”

  “My best friend is dead and an evil thing is living in her body,” she says, blinking tear-filled eyes. “And it is my fault. Why are the Mercenaries after me? What do they want?”

  “They want your soul.” I look around, feeling exposed. A few other students have reached the edge of the parking lot. There could be more Mercenaries hiding inside them. It’s best for Ariel if we aren’t seen. “But whatever happened with you and Gemma might give us a clue how to protect you. Let’s drive and see what we can figure out.”

  She nods, but it takes several seconds for her to unwind her arms from around my neck. I know the feeling. Now that I’m holding her again, I don’t ever, ever want to let her go. On impulse, I bend to kiss her, but she flinches away.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re going to hate me,” she says, voice thick. “I was going to do something horrible. To you. At first I believed everything Gemma said, and I—”

  I cup her face in my hands. “I love you. I will never hate you.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “I am.” I kiss her—sealing my promise—and reach for the passenger door. “Get in. We’ll talk while I drive.”

  After a moment, she eases into the seat. I close her door, steeling myself for what I have to tell her. I can imagine what kind of “horrible” thing she was planning. I know how the Mercenaries work, and what they would need from Ariel in order for her to become one of them.

  I start the car and swing out of the narrow space, shoot through the parking lot and down the road that will take us to the beach if we drive far enough. “I told you that I used to be a Mercenary,” I say, checking the rearview mirror to make sure we aren’t being followed. “I know how they can twist your mind in knots until you don’t know what’s right.”

  This is the moment when I should confess it all, tell her that I tortured and deceived my wife. Juliet drove the knife through her own heart, but I might as well have done it myself. I killed her. And then I tormented her for another seven hundred years.

  But I can’t make the words come, even when Ariel covers her face and confesses, “I’m so ashamed.”

  I ease her hood down and place a gentle hand on her hair, wishing I could soak up her pain and leave her heart as clean as it was before. “Don’t be. Don’t let them put ugliness between us.”

  She moans low in her throat. “I was … so angry. I wanted to kill you.”

  “But you didn’t.” I take her hand, squeeze it tight.

  “You don’t understand. I had a plan,” she says. “Gemma and I snuck into the cafeteria today, around ten o’clock, when the workers take their break. We wanted to punish you … punish Dylan.” She swallows. “While we were there, I hid my grandfather’s .22 in the storage room they’re using for the coat check for the dance. I pushed up one of the ceiling squares and slipped it in. I was going to wait until you were onstage tonight and go get it and …” She tries to pull her hand away from mine. When I refuse to let go, her fingers grow limp. “I don’t know if I would have done it, but I was so …” She sucks in a jagged breath, and when she speaks again, her voice is barely a whisper. “I hated you. As much as I loved you last night.”

  We drive on in silence. I know what I want to say, but I don’t want to rush. I want her to know that she’s been heard and understood and that I’m still choosing to keep my hand in hers. I smooth my thumb across her soft skin. “I love you.”

  “How?” she chokes out. “I betrayed you. Even if I didn’t actually shoot you, I was seriously considering it. I was so sure you were lying, even though you’d warned me about the Mercenaries. That Gemma could change my mind so fast shows that I’m an evil, awful—”

  “And what did the thing inside Gemma say to convince you I had to die?” I know this is what she should be focusing on. She was manipulated. She didn’t go from loving me in the morning to wanting to murder me in the afternoon without help.

  “She said that Romeo was a lie,” she whispers. “She said you were really Dylan and that everything you said about the curse and magic was just another way to get me to sleep with you and win the bet. She said you told her lies to get her to sleep with you too, and that you and Gemma made a bet about me when you were … with her.”

  I sigh. Well … shit. “She was telling the truth. About some of it, at least. Dylan did lie to her, and they did make a bet,” I confess, wondering if Ariel could be wrong. Maybe Gemma isn’t a Mercenary. Maybe she’s only a concerned friend incapable of believing an extraordinary story. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to be hurt, and I didn’t see that what happened with Dylan and Gemma mattered. Because I’m not Dylan, and everything I’ve told you is the truth. I swear it.”

  She nods, and I feel her start to relax. “I know. When I finally got away from Gemma, I started thinking and I … I couldn’t see how the Dylan I knew would be smart enough to make up a story like that. The things you’ve told me are too incredible not to be true. And then, when I was at Gemma’s house getting her stuff, I remembered what you s
aid about the Mercenaries and how I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between one of them and the person I loved until it was too late. That’s why I was writing you the note. I wanted to meet somewhere and talk before I went to give Gemma her jewelry. Not that I guess I have to anymore.” She closes her eyes, sighs a miserable sigh. “The Mercenary inside of her isn’t going to need money to go to Seattle.”

  I slow the car, pulling to the side of the road and shifting into park. What I have to say isn’t the kind of thing you share in a moving vehicle. “Ariel, I—I’m not sure …” I brace myself. I have no choice but to speak, no matter how much I’m going to hurt her. “I don’t think Gemma’s a Mercenary.”

  Her eyes open. “What?”

  “We can’t know for certain, so it’s best to avoid her, but it sounds like she was only concerned about you.”

  “What …” Her pale face grows even paler. “What do you mean?”

  “Dylan was cruel to Gemma. It seems like she was trying to protect you from a similar experience,” I say gently. “Did she know about the gun in the cafeteria?”

  “No … she didn’t. She was busy with the audiovisual equipment. I—I didn’t tell her …” She’s quiet, and for once her fingers are still. “I wasn’t tricked,” she finally says, voice flat, numb. “I was going to commit murder all on my own.”

  “You wouldn’t have killed me.”

  “Oh no. I might have.” She reaches for her door, but I stop her with a hand around her wrist.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Let me out.”

  “No.”

  “Let me out!” She slaps at my hand, but I grab her arms and pull her close.

  “Don’t leave,” I whisper, inches from her face. “Please.”

  “Don’t you see?” she sobs. “I’m a psycho. I’m not good enough for—”

  “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” I say, voice shaking. “I don’t care if you planned to kill me. I don’t care if you’d done it. It would have been worth it. You’re worth it.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I told you that the night we met.” I try to smile but can’t, not when she’s so upset. “I love you. I forgive you.”

  For a moment the only sound is the rumble of the car idling beneath us. “That’s what I always feel like I should say to you,” she finally says. “In my dreams.”

  “I need forgiveness too.” I move closer, until I can feel the seductive warmth of her against my lips. “More than you can imagine. Maybe the only thing I need more is to forgive someone else, so that I know that this much forgiveness is possible.”

  “You really …” Her hands brush over my heart before sliding up to my shoulders.

  “Really. And nothing will change my mind.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Her breath catches as I find her waist and dig my fingers into the thick fabric of her jeans.

  “Don’t say anything.” I lean in, kissing her with everything in me, and she gives everything right back. It’s beautiful, terrible … perfect.

  By the time we pull apart, breath coming fast, our foreheads pressed together and our eyes closed, I’m dizzy and wishing I could keep spinning into her and forget that this is the last day. These are the last few hours, and we will never have a last dance. Or a first.

  Or maybe … Maybe …

  “Let’s go to your house,” I whisper. “Eat something. Get ready for the dance.”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “We can’t. When Gemma and I were in the cafeteria today, she messed with the file for the slide show. It’s going to play the video you let me take when it’s your turn to sing. I don’t know how to change it, and I don’t—”

  “I don’t care. Let the video play. You’re the only thing that matters to me.”

  “But what about the real Mercenaries? Shouldn’t we be hiding from them?”

  “A Mercenary wouldn’t kill me in front of a room full of people. They don’t like an audience.”

  She bites her lip. “So you’ll be … safer at the dance?”

  “Exactly. And I have a song to sing. And I want to see the sets you painted all lit up.”

  “I just want to be alone with you,” she says, tears filling her eyes again.

  “Me too, but this is important.” I brush her hair behind her ear. “I only have until midnight. And I want you to remember—no matter what Dylan says or does when he comes back—that tonight was real. We were real.”

  The tears slip down her cheeks. “It’s not enough time.” She presses her fingers into the back of my neck until I shiver. Her touch will haunt me forever. Even when I am dust, I will remember the feel of her skin.

  “I’m sorry.” I am, for so much more than she’ll ever understand.

  She turns, finding my lips again. “I forgive you,” she says, kissing me with the words, making me ache for another night. Just one more. Lying next to her, holding her while she sleeps. But we don’t have another night. We have only a few hours, and they’re slipping away.

  “I hate to say it, but we—”

  “Should go,” she finishes, a smile thinning her lips. “You’re right. And I guess I …” She clears her throat, settles fully back into her seat. “You’re right. About Gemma. I should run her jewelry by the hotel.”

  “Let me come with you. In case she’s—”

  “No. Gemma might not be a Mercenary, but she still hates you. She won’t understand why you’re with me.” She drops her face into her hands, rubbing her eyes with a tired sigh. “Especially after everything we did today.”

  “I don’t want to leave you alone. All day I thought the Mercenaries had you, and it was my fault. It was torture.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  “Don’t be sorry.” I loop my fingers around her wrist. “Let me keep you safe.”

  She drops her hands to her lap. “Okay. You can drive me to the hotel and wait in the car. We’ll find a spot with a view of Gemma’s door. It shouldn’t take but a few minutes.”

  “Ten minutes. No more, or I come after you.”

  She nods. “That should be plenty. I can’t stay long anyway. Gemma called the office pretending to be my mom this morning and said I was sick again, but the school might have still called with the absence message. I have to get back and check before Mom gets home. She’ll never let me go to the dance if she knows I skipped.”

  “A fate that must be avoided.” I shift the car into drive and pull back onto the road. “I need to see you in that dress.”

  “It’s beautiful,” she says softly.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “Because of you.”

  “No, not—”

  “Yes. Because of you. Don’t argue,” she says.

  I don’t. I drive. Because I’m still a selfish creature at heart. I want to believe I’ve given her beauty, and that it will be something for her to hold close when the boy she loves is a monster too hideous to show his face at her window.

  But if there is any way to manage it, I will be there, hiding in the shadows, doing my best to protect her from the darkness.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Ariel

  Smile and lie, smile and lie, smile and lie. The mantra is a hand to hold as I cross the parking lot of the Knight and Day motel. I can feel his eyes on me, watching me from where he parked in the shade, determined not to let me out of his sight a second longer than necessary. Because he cares so much.

  Care. Love. As if he knows a damned thing about either.

  The black cloud teeming inside of me buzzes louder, a furious swarm of feeling that has drowned out even the screaming things. There’s no room inside my head for them now. Not when I’m so furious that my heart is on fire, that I move through a thick, suffocating fog of hate as I make my way to room fifty-three and lift my fist to knock on the door.

  Almost immediately Gemma appears, squinting against the sun. “Hey! Mike’s not here. He drove up to San Luis to grab a few things f
rom his old apartment,” she says. “What’s up? Did you …” Her words trail away and her grin shrivels. “What’s wrong, Ree?”

  I swallow and try to smile, but I can’t. My face has forgotten how to move that way. I can fake it for him, but not for her, not after everything her mother told me.

  “Oh god. Something went wrong, didn’t it? Shit.” She sighs and leans past me to scan the parking lot before grabbing my hand and pulling me inside. “Come on. Let me get you a Coke. You can tell me all the gory details.”

  The room is dark, the curtains drawn against curious eyes. To our left are two double beds, one with the forest-green bedspread still tucked in tight, the other with rumpled sheets and a mound of smooshed pillows at the top center. It looks like Gemma and Mike sleep close, snuggled in the center of the bed. Just like Romeo and I did last night.

  My eyes slide shut, and a choked sound gurgles in my throat. The pain is worse than anything I could have imagined, even worse than this morning, a mountain of misery crumbling down on top of me, vast and crushing and inescapable.

  “Ree? Ree, you’re freaking me out,” Gemma says.

  I open my eyes to find her standing in front of me, holding my hands gently in hers. I can barely feel her touch. My skin is numb again, a shell, a suit of impenetrable armor I’ll use to protect me as I fight.

  But first I have to make sure my only friend is safe.

  “I’m sorry.” I let her guide me into one of the chairs near the small table in the corner. She pops the top on a Coke and sets it in front of me while I reach into the pocket of my hoodie and pull out the plastic bag. “Here’s your stuff.” I set it on the table and scoot it toward her with a flick of my fingers. “I put it in a plastic bag and carried it out in my pocket. I forgot my backpack.”

  “Thanks,” Gemma says, but she doesn’t reach for the bag. She’s too busy watching me. “So what happened? Was my dad there? Did my mom catch you or—”

  “She did.”

  “Shit!”

  “But it was okay.” Because she wasn’t your mom anymore, I silently add, knowing it would be pointless to tell Gemma what’s going on. She wouldn’t believe her mom’s body is hosting another soul—an Ambassador of Light sent to protect me—any more than she believed me about Romeo. But for once in my life, I was right. Romeo is real. And my anger when I thought Dylan was pretending is nothing compared to the fury of knowing that everything Romeo said is true.