Romeo and Juliet and Vampires

Romeo and Juliet and Vampires Claudia Gabel William Shakespeare Shakespeare’s most famous tragedy about two young "star-cross'd lovers" whose untimely deaths ultimately unite their feuding families… retold with a bit more bite!When a classic is perfect, there is only one thing that can make it better: folding in a breed of monsters! With vampires thrown in the mix, readers will love the darkly hilarious twist on this best-loved tragedy.“For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo”… Add in fangs and you can say that again! ROMEO & JULIET & Vampires ADAPTED FROM WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE BY CLAUDIA GABEL Contents Cover (#u74c8bd1e-3e40-5a4e-bf18-960292e0c635) Title Page (#uc1cbfb85-15d9-5694-b813-4d1d3b5b12b6) PROLOGUE (#u20424b14-655a-54a6-90ca-828265993e0e) CHAPTER ONE (#u2da9c86d-39bf-55c7-8db8-46237667e0d0) CHAPTER TWO (#u0d6ffa15-fb1a-5f5e-a736-d77d85bb089b) CHAPTER THREE (#udc8a916d-1c4c-5987-817f-5e83b78eb951) CHAPTER FOUR (#u048d90bd-28b7-5f1a-9554-298fba17bb92) CHAPTER FIVE (#u18b5d136-dad0-53ad-ab94-63138c780899) CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER FOUTEEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo) EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo) About the Author (#litres_trial_promo) EDITOR’S NOTE (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter One PLAYING PILGRIMS (#litres_trial_promo) Copyright (#litres_trial_promo) About The Publisher (#litres_trial_promo) PROLOGUE (#ulink_0c75101f-c83d-5521-9795-783509d9cc28) TRANSYLVANIA, 1462 For the past six years, the Wallachian Province of Transylvania was ruled by Vlad the Impaler, a ruthless prince responsible for the deaths of forty thousand European people during his reign. Vladimir couldn’t have accomplished this horrific feat alone, of course. A special part of his constituency—a family of vampires known as the Capulets—helped him carry out this murderous rampage by feeding off “undesirables” one by one. In exchange for their “work", the Capulets were given a large, imposing castle in the southern part of the Carpathian Mountains near the city of Transylvania and anything else their hearts desired. They enjoyed the benefits of being wealthy aristocrats by day, bloodsuckers by night—opulent clothes; priceless jewels; supernatural powers; and immortality. They owned most of the land in the area and had servants to tend to their every whim. One might say that to be a Capulet was to be both envied and abhorred. However, if you were talking with a Montague, he would have told you that the Capulets were mercenaries of evil who had to be destroyed. Blessed with a keen sense of intuition and vampire-slaying skills that could not be matched, the Montagues fought the Capulets at every opportunity to keep them from terrorizing the citizens of Transylvania. Their hope was to rid the world of these beasts, once and for all. But recently the rules of war were changed. Prince Vladimir was ousted from the throne and imprisoned, leaving his half-brother Radu in power. Radu’s first act as prince was to institute a peace treaty in the region of Wallachia, thereby forcing the Montagues and the Capulets into a truce. But could peace really exist between sworn enemies, especially when one was as bloodthirsty as the Capulet family? From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of star-cross’d lovers were fated to find out. Citizens of Transylvania, With Vlad the Impaler imprisoned for his crimes against humanity, the era of his violence is officially over. A peace treaty has been reached between the new government and Vladimir’s mercenaries, the Capulets. If any humans or vampires commit a violent act that results in the injury or death of another, their lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. Abiding by this simple, yet definitive law should lead to civility and tranquillity in our kingdom. —Prince Radu CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_8a430b66-cd1e-5614-93e2-189c15e2a1f4) Juliet sat on her bed and stared at her reflection in an ornate gilded mirror, which she held close to her face. With her fingertip, she traced the outline of her rose-hued lips on the glass, repeating the same movement over the subtle slope of her nose and the smooth youthful brow above her indigo-coloured eyes. She was not one to be vain. But in three days, the simple act of checking to see if a chestnut-coloured tendril had fallen loose from one of her hair combs would not be so simple. Truth be told, it wouldn’t even be possible, for Juliet’s reflection would cease to exist. “Keep your chin up, my lady,” said a voice from behind her. “God knows it will improve your posture.” Juliet felt her breath catch in her throat, surprised to hear that someone else was in her chambers. She set the mirror down on her lap and turned towards thedoor, where her beloved nursemaid stood, dressed in a white smock and holding a wooden brush in her hand. Juliet sighed. Her nurse was here to help her prepare for a lavish ball that her parents were hosting this evening. However, Juliet would rather hide in her chambers for the night than play the role of dutiful daughter in a room full of vampires and strangers—especially since she was in such a sombre mood. “I have more important things to be concerned about than my posture,” Juliet said as she rose from her bed, still clutching the ivory handle of her mirror. She walked over to the leaded terrace window and gazed at the snowcapped mountains that lined the far reaches of Transylvania. As a child, she’d dreamed of leaving the castle and disappearing into the hills, where she’d befriend all the wild animals and live off berries. How foolish she had been. “I suppose you are referring to your birthday.” The nurse strode across the room, her short, meaty legs pounding the marble floor. She stood behind Juliet and removed her mistress’s robe, quickly pulling it off both her arms. “Most girls look forward to turning sixteen. Or am I mistaken?” Juliet closed her eyes, feeling the last ray of the setting sun tickle her skin through her thin cotton slip. Soon, exposure to direct sunlight would be the kiss of death for her. “Most girls do not have to kill someone and drink every last drop of their blood in order to live a day past it,” she said. The nurse circled in front of Juliet and glowered at her. “Well, there’s no sense in wishing for what is unattainable. Now sit back down so I can untangle that nest of hair before Lady Capulet comes to call. We cannot have her seeing you so unkempt.” Juliet nodded and shuffled over to her bed, heeding the nurse’s command. She knew better than anyone how easy it was to be scared of Lady Capulet. But there was one thing more frightening than the matriarch of the Capulet family: a surprise raid on the castle by the vampire-slaying Montagues. There had been three security breaches before—guerrilla attacks in retaliation for the brutal murders the Capulets had carried out at the hands of Vlad the Impaler. In those dire hours, Juliet had always been fiercely protected, mostly by her older cousin Tybalt. But now she couldn’t help but wonder if she would’ve been better off as a casualty. Of course, being dead would free her from her troubles, but dying at the hands of the Montagues would only cause more destruction in Transylvania. The Capulets hated the Montagues with every fibre of their unbeating hearts, and would certainly seek vengeance at any cost. She couldn’t bear the thought of being responsible for anyone’s death, regardless of who they were. Juliet let out a deep breath and tried to force these disconcerting thoughts from her mind. As the hairbrush’s soft bristles massaged her scalp, she recalled a more carefree time, when she used to love counting the brushstrokes and listening to her nurse sing happy folk songs while she worked. When the nurse’s own child died many years ago, she practically adopted Juliet, and Juliet felt she could trust her nurse with anything. “Don’t you take any pity on me, Nurse?” she asked, her voice despondent and desperate for sympathy. “Or my soon-to-be-damned soul?” Juliet heard no response as the brush kept moving through her hair. But then there was a pause, and Juliet felt the nurse’s lips press down on the crown of her head. “I do, child,” the nurse replied tenderly. “When you have doubts, remember that I’ve been preparing my heart for this since you were born. It’s been a wretched task.” A tear trickled down Juliet’s cheek, which she quickly wiped away. “Thank you, I will.” The nurse wrapped her arms around Juliet and squeezed. “Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?” “Yes, switch lives with me,” Juliet said with a small grin. The nurse laughed into Juliet’s ear. “That is quite a favour to ask.” “I know, but you cannot blame me for trying,” Juliet replied, her eyes smiling just a little. Suddenly there was a knock at the chamber door and the nurse snapped to attention. “I wasn’t expecting her ladyship for another hour or so,” she gasped. The nurse handed Juliet the brush, then raced over to the closet and opened it. Juliet managed a girlish giggle. Unlike the other vampires who slept until nightfall, Lady Capulet’s eyes always popped open the moment twilight arrived. “Well, my mother does love to keep her human underlings on their toes.” The nurse fetched Juliet’s robe, shaking her head with disapproval. “Nobody likes a young maiden with a sharp tongue.” “I suppose it will go well with my new sharp teeth.” Another knock sounded at the door—loud and demanding. “Just mind yourself, please,” the nurse advised Juliet. “Why should I? I have only a few days left of being human. I might as well enjoy myself,” she replied. “Good heavens. Maybe you should keep your mouth shut altogether,” the nurse said as she smoothed back Juliet’s hair and tied it at the nape of her neck with a black satin ribbon. Then she took a deep breath, walked hastily towards the door, and opened it. At the sight of Lady Capulet, Juliet shuddered asthough a gust of wind had blown by. The nurse bowed her head respectfully and said, “My lady.” Without a word or acknowledgment of her daughter’s servant, Lady Capulet floated into the bedchamber, her dainty feet hovering a good six inches off the ground. She was dressed in a long ebony gown, and folded her hands delicately in front of her chest as she gracefully levitated across the room. Her pale yellow skin was utterly flawless and her raven-coloured hair was pulled back tightly in an ornate bun so that her glowing red irises were impossible to ignore. There were no vampires more beautiful, nor imposing, than Lady Capulet. Juliet could barely blink in her mother’s presence—she was that captivating—and until today, Juliet hadn’t noticed their resemblance. With her transition from human to vampire to come in three days, there was no way she could deny it now. “Nurse, leave us. I must speak with my daughter in private,” Lady Capulet said firmly. Juliet’s heart fluttered with dismay. She did not want to lose the support of her most precious ally. “As you wish,” the nurse replied, bowing her head again and closing the door behind her. Juliet swallowed hard, hoping something cheerful, like a chirping bird outside her window, would break the uncomfortable silence. Lady Capulet glided over to the nightstand near Juliet’s bed and held her hand over the top of a copper oil lamp. A flickering flame suddenly appeared, showering Juliet’s face with a light golden sheen. While all female vampires had some degree of conjuring powers, Lady Capulet’s skills were far above the rest. “Come, let me see you,” Lady Capulet said, staring deep into Juliet’s eyes and running a long, sharp fingernail down her daughter’s cheek. Juliet willed herself not to shed any more tears. Lady Capulet did not tolerate babyish behaviour. “Your colour is already beginning to change,” Lady Capulet said with a proud expression on her face. “Can you tell?” “I haven’t thought to look, Mother,” Juliet lied, and glanced away. The first sign of transformation had begun last night—her healthy, pink skin tone was gradually turning pale. Soon her eyes would start to alter in colour—from ice blue to glowing scarlet—and her fingernails would grow long and sharp. The ability to levitate and smell blood would follow, as well as the loss of her reflection and shadow. But there was one symptom of the transition that was so excruciating, even a vampire as strong as her cousin Tybalt had difficulty handling it—a ravenous hunger that would gnaw mercilessly at her insides, until she performed her initiation rite before midnight on her sixteenth birthday. The only way for Juliet to stop the transformationwas to refuse initiation, which she desperately wanted to do. The ritual was the final step to becoming a full-fledged vampire, and known only to those within the vampire community. Juliet would have to hunt down a human and kill him—all by herself, and without the help of any accomplice. Then she must ingest every ounce of her victim’s blood until his corpse was nothing but a dry, shrivelled shell. But as abhorrent as the initiation ritual was to Juliet, resisting it would lead to starvation and death. Juliet wasn’t sure she had the stomach for that kind of intense suffering. Lady Capulet quickly became stern, dropping her hand over the lamp’s flame and extinguishing it. “Are you still trying to pretend that your destiny as a vampire does not await you? That will not do you any good.” “And what should I do?” The anger in Juliet’s voice was unmistakable. “Embrace a fate that will rid me of my humanity and morality? A fate that will force me to feed off the blood of man, or else dig myself an early grave?” “Juliet, your theatrics are both tiring and tedious,” said Lady Capulet. “I transitioned on my sixteenth birthday without an ounce of reluctance. And so did your father, and his father before him. All your hand-wringing is a great disrespect to your lineage.” Juliet lay down on her bed, turning so that her back was to Lady Capulet. “At least we can agree on this—we are both ashamed of each other.” The room went eerily quiet and Juliet’s stomach churned. She knew what she had said was horrible, but she was so eager to convince her mother that her family’s lifestyle was, in a word, depraved. At this point, Juliet would say anything to make Lady Capulet realize that feeding on humans was wrong—even if that meant provoking a fight. “Shame?” Lady Capulet’s voice was loud enough to rattle all the glass in the room. Juliet covered her ears with her hands. “Are we not here, living in this splendid castle like royalty? Are we not the most powerful force in Transylvania, despite the cruel acts of lowly poachers like the Montagues?” Juliet could feel herself coming undone, so she steeled herself and pretended her nurse was by her side. “My aim is not to be ungrateful, Mother. It is to be truthful,” Juliet said. “And the truth is that some see the Montagues as vigilantes, and think their actions are justified.” “Do you share the same sentiment?” Her mother’s stare practically took Juliet’s breath away. “I do not know how you can live with the blood of thousands on your hands,” Juliet replied after a moment of awkward silence. “It is easy when you have orders to kill,” Lady Capulet said, smoothing a few stray hairs back withher palms. “But now the peace treaty is threatening our human blood supply, which means we are more vulnerable than we have ever been before.” “Vulnerable or not, I don’t think I can go through with the initiation. I am sorry to let you down, Mother,” Juliet said. Lady Capulet floated around Juliet’s covered four-poster bed, then settled in a high-backed armchair so she could look Juliet in the eyes. “Even in death, my child, you will be a member of the Capulet family.” Juliet’s mother extended her hand into the air and a brown paper envelope materialized above it. “So before you decide to starve yourself, why don’t you carefully consider the alternatives?” Juliet sat up slowly, reached above her head, and took the envelope in her hand. After loosening the wax seal on the back of it with her thumb, she began to read the wrinkled parchment that was enclosed as Lady Capulet floated out of the room and closed the door behind her. Dear Juliet, Your lord and ladyship have shared with me that soon you will become a full member of the vampire race. I would like to extend my heartfelt congratulations to you. All the special powers you have yet to possess will serve you well and you will take great joy in them. And though you feel conflicted about your initiation rite, I know you will eventually come to understand that immortality is a treasure worth killing for. It must seem odd receiving such an intimate letter from a stranger, but I am pleased to inform you that I will be attending the Capulet ball. Some find my nature to be plain, but my reputation in our ranks is highly esteemed. In any case, I am very anxious to meet you. With noble intentions, Count Paris Juliet crumpled up the letter and held it tightly in both her hands. She knew other maidens her age had received notes like this before and wound up married to strangers their parents had picked out for them. Juliet’s skin prickled with nervous chills just thinking of it, so she pulled the covers up to her chin, gripping the fabric tightly with her fingers. If her mother thought that a romance—especially one that was prearranged—would rid Juliet of her depression, she was sorely mistaken. CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_ef31ca55-e66e-5f93-af45-15870e3dfa7f) At the bottom of the steep, rocky hill upon which Capulet Castle was erected stood the Montague family arsenal. Built as large as a fortress with Gothic architecture as beautiful as any cathedral, no structure in Transylvania was as intimidating or awe-inspiring. With the dreaded Prince Vladimir now imprisoned for his heinous crimes, and Vlad’s half-brother Radu proclaiming this a new era of “peace", the Montagues had been ordered to close their arsenal. However, despite Prince Radu’s hope for harmony and order, the Montagues continued to store and maintain a considerable amount of weaponry—battle-axes, wooden pikes, broadswords, quarterstaffs, and the like—in case of a vampire crisis. Needless to say, most of the Montagues did not believe that the Capulets were capable of honouring a long-term truce. In their opinion, the vampires were an evil plague on humanity, and the only way to stop them was by stamping them out, one by one. On the night of the Capulet ball, Romeo Montague—the youngest gentleman of the brood—sat in his family’s draughty arsenal, sharpening his father’s parrying daggers and misericord knives with his older cousin Benvolio and his dear friend Mercutio. Romeo had been working on one knife for the last ten minutes, his sand-coloured hair flopping over his brown eyes and his mind totally lost in a daydream. This is what set him apart from the rest of the Montagues—fighting vampires wasn’t the only thing he thought about. “If you do not keep your attention on your blade there, Romeo, you will have one less finger with which to tie your bootlaces,” Benvolio said, grinning. Romeo drew his gaze back from a dripping leak in one of the stone walls, returning it to the knife sharpener in his hands. “That would probably hurt less than this broken heart of mine.” Mercutio groaned as he examined a well-used crossbow. “My God, Romeo. Are you still lamenting over that grizzly beast Rosaline Capulet?” Recently Romeo had become obsessed with a fair and lovely maiden named Rosaline. On several occasions, he had tried to talk to her, but she just ignored him. It had really hurt his feelings. “Of course he is, Mercutio! Those half-breed females are quite enticing,” Benvolio said in reply. “I heard from Raulfe the blacksmith that they smell just like bacon.” Romeo slammed the knife and sharpener down on a worktable so that they made a loud clanging sound. “You are two of the most ignorant bastards in Transylvania,” he said. “And handsome, too,” Mercutio joked. Romeo was unable to prevent himself from smirking. “The only one who thinks so is your mother.” “What are you implying? That my mother has bad taste?” Mercutio said, apparently offended. “If you ask me, Romeo, you are the one whose taste is laughable,” Benvolio added. “Is that so?” Romeo could feel his pulse rising. He had a short temper when his cousin and friend made fun of him, which unfortunately was quite often. “Yes, a half-breed Capulet is not worthy of anything but scorn and suspicion.” Benvolio picked up a long-sword and ran a gloved finger over the silver blade, making sure it was sharp. “Rosaline is a human being, not a half-breed,” Romeo stated firmly. “Just for now,” Mercutio corrected. “Next year at this time, she will become a vampire. And what will you do then? Watch as she eats live goats?” Benvolio nudged Mercutio with a devilish grin on his round face. “Perhaps you are being too hasty with your criticism. Her wildness could do Romeo a great deal of service … especially in bed.” Mercutio slapped his leg as he laughed. “Honestly, Benvolio, I would be wary of dropping my trousers in front of my wife if she had fangs.” “And an uncontrollable appetite for blood,” Benvolio said, chuckling. A flood of anger ripped through Romeo’s body. He made his hands into fists and brought them up to his face. “How about we settle this debate the old-fashioned way, Benvolio?” Another chuckle erupted from Benvolio’s belly. “You are barely sixteen and have not fought anyone in your life. I would crush you in seconds.” Romeo’s older cousin spoke the truth. In his family’s crusade against Vladimir’s vampire army, Romeo had no kills, or even serious injuries, to his credit. Though his cousin teased him mercilessly about this, his parents thought he was still too young for combat. A part of Romeo was relieved to have been spared the ugliness of the war. He believed in protecting the villagers from anyone who would do them harm, but as he gaped at all the weaponry that surrounded him, he feared that his family was becoming more and more like the murderers they had vowed to stop. Still, wasn’t the honour of Rosaline’s name worth taking a beating for? Besides, Romeo had learned excellent long-sword skills from his father, the master vampire slayer Lord Montague. Perhaps he could beat his cousin by using a few tricks he had been secretly perfecting. There was only one way to know. “Hear this, Benvolio!” Romeo shouted, jumping onto the worktable and snatching a long-sword that was hanging on the wall. He aimed the pointed tip at his cousin and said, “Prepare for me to butcher you, you fat ugly cow!” Benvolio and Mercutio looked at each other and burst into a riotous fit of laughter. “Come down from there, Romeo. You’re going to fall off that table, smack your head on the ground, and split it open,” Mercutio warned him. “Let the cow fight his own battles, Mercutio,” Romeo said. “Have it your way, Cousin.” Benvolio nodded his head at Mercutio, who quickly took a finely crafted long-sword out of a leather sheath and handed it to him. Benvolio went into a strong fighting stance and held the sword up with his right hand. “Let the thrashing of your life begin!” Romeo narrowed his eyes at Benvolio as his cousin leaped on to the table. He immediately lunged forward, barely allowing Romeo any time to react. Romeo blocked Benvolio’s strike with a mighty jab of his sword, and then swiftly shoved him with his left hand.Benvolio stumbled back a few steps, almost falling off the edge of the table. When he regained his balance, he grinned. “Nicely done,” he said, impressed. “I did not know you had that in you.” “Oh, I am full of surprises,” Romeo said. Benvolio charged again, his sword aiming high at Romeo’s head. Romeo ducked at the last moment and then swept his sword near Benvolio’s feet, hoping to trip him up. Benvolio was too fast, though, blocking Romeo’s sword with his own, all the while a smug look forming on his face. “Come on, Romeo! Get him!” Mercutio called out from the corner of the room. Benvolio swiped at Romeo two more times with his sword, which Romeo defended easily. “Why are you cheering for him and not me?” “I always bet on the underdog!” Mercutio said. Romeo saw that his opponent was distracted and whipped his sword at Benvolio’s left arm. The tip of the blade cut a hole in Benvolio’s shirt from his elbow to his shoulder. “Damn you! This is one of my favourites!” Benvolio growled. “I am not the least bit sorry,” Romeo said. “You will be in a moment,” Benvolio said, swinging his sword at Romeo rapidly. Romeo dodged three of Benvolio’s swipes in a row. But then, Benvolio’s shiny metal blade sliced down towards his legs, and Romeo spun out of the way just in time. He wasn’t so lucky when Benvolio charged at him again—Romeo was forced off the worktable and hit the floor, face-first. Romeo groaned in pain at the blunt impact, then slowly rolled over on to his back and touched his nose with the palm of his left hand. He craned his head up to see if there was blood on it, and sighed when he saw his guess was correct. Out of breath and sweating profusely, Benvolio yanked the sword out of Romeo’s grip, his playful mood suddenly turned serious. “It is your turn to hear me now. You are deluded, Romeo. Vampires do not have the capability to love. They are heartless and their only intentions are to kill.” “You are wrong,” Romeo spat out as he sat up and wiped his bloodied nose with the sleeve of his shirt. Mercutio helped Romeo up off the floor. “I am afraid he is right, and your father would wholeheartedly agree—not to mention skin you alive if he knew you were consorting with the enemy.” “So instead I should follow your example and consort with women who smell like a barnyard and taste like cheap whisky?” Romeo said as he dusted himself off. “Enough of this blathering. We have a good fifty or more weapons to tend to,” Mercutio said, and pointed to double bows that needed to be restrung. “So do you plan on visiting a harlot’s bed this evening, Mercutio? Is that why you are in a hurry?” Benvolio asked with a laugh. Mercutio got out some wooden stakes and stacked them on the floor, readying them for inspection. “I wish. I had plans with Maribel, a servant maid from Capulet Castle, but she cancelled because she has to work at that ridiculous ball for the prince. She’d promised me a foot massage, so I’m quite disappointed.” “She is better off serving food to those bloodsuckers than touching your calluses,” Benvolio said. “It depends on who this servant maid is,” Romeo said, relieved that the tension in the air had lifted. “How ugly is she?” Mercutio sneered at Romeo. “Maribel is not ugly, you imbecile. In fact, she’s quite attractive. Even more so than her mistress, Rosaline.” Romeo’s mouth hung open. “You are courting Rosaline’s maid servant? Since when?!” “Only a few days. But we haven’t mentioned you and Rosaline at all, if that is what you are worried about,” Mercutio said. Romeo was thrilled by his friend’s revelation. It was entirely possible this Maribel was a trusted confidante of Rosaline’s. If he could somehow charm and impress the woman, perhaps she would speak kindly of him to Rosaline and convince her mistress to give him a chance. If he didn’t act on this news now, he would regret it for the rest of his life. “Tonight I will win Rosaline’s favour,” Romeo said with a renewed spirit. “And both of you are going to help me.” Mercutio narrowed his eyes at Romeo. “How do you propose we do that?” “You will convince your pretty maid servant to sneak us into the ball so that I can see Rosaline,” he answered. “A few moments ago my lady friend was ugly, and now all of a sudden she is pretty,” Mercutio said. “Like I said, I’m full of surprises,” Romeo said with a smile. Benvolio did nothing to mask his frustration. “This is ridiculous, Romeo. And dangerous to the point of suicide!” he said. “We’ve never gone to the castle at night. The vampires will outnumber us by the hundreds.” But Romeo would not be persuaded by Benvolio’s gift for reasoning. “We can go in disguise and blend into the crowd undetected. No one will even know we are there.” “This is the most preposterous plan ever created,” Mercutio said, throwing his hands up in the air. “I refuse to take any part in it.” “So do I,” Benvolio echoed. “Well, if you don’t come along, I will go to Capulet Castle all by myself,” Romeo said with confidence. Benvolio and Mercutio traded an uncomfortable glance while Romeo waited for their response. Benvolio nodded, and Mercutio took a hefty wooden stake from the top of the pile, offering it to Romeo as though it were a family heirloom. “We must shave a few of these down so they will fit underneath our coats,” Mercutio said. “And we will ask Friar Laurence for garlic and enough holy water to fill our ankle flasks,” said Benvolio. Romeo grinned as he shook their hands one at a time. “I suppose we must prepare for the worst.” “And for your innocence to be lost,” Mercutio said with a wink. CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_819adb1d-3ac3-55a8-a508-1834f798eb89) From behind a tall limestone pillar near the top of a winding staircase, Juliet watched the festive scene unfold in the castle’s Great Hall. Her eyes bounced around the candlelit room with great interest and curiosity, settling upon striking women in glittering, beaded ball gowns and stoic gentlemen dressed in long formal jackets, stitched with shimmering gold thread. She was amazed by the civility of it all. Humans and Capulets, gallivanting together as if there hadn’t been more than five years of bloodshed between them. It truly boggled the mind, but not enough to dampen the cheery mood of Transylvania’s most elite humans, who obviously were curious about the country’s most notorious vampires. A choral trio was assembled in between two towering marble columns, singing “Ave Regina” by Guillaume Dufay. The angelic sound of their high-pitched voices competed with the din of chatter in the air. Juliet had no need to wonder about the subject matter of people’s conversations—the peace treaty that was threatening the tight choke hold the Capulets had over the region. Soon Prince Radu would arrive at the castle as the guest of honour and be welcomed by the most prestigious clan of vampires in all of Europe. Juliet took a deep breath and felt her whalebone corset tightening against her rib cage. She knew she should be relieved by the prince’s presence this evening. Originally, this ball was scheduled to take place three days from now in celebration of Juliet’s sixteenth birthday, but plans had changed once Vladimir was imprisoned. The Capulets altered the theme of the dance and invited Prince Radu, hoping that they could prove they were worthy of the power his half-brother had bestowed upon them, and persuade the prince to lift the treaty so their freedom to feed off humans would no longer be compromised. Juliet’s extended family was so distracted by the political upheaval that they had seemed to forget all about her and her coming-of-age ritual. Juliet wished to put it out of her mind as well, at least for this evening. But when she felt a familiar warm, strong hand with long, sharp fingernails rest upon her shoulder, there was nowhere safe for her mind to go. “Where have you been hiding, Juliet?” a deep, raspy voice asked. She turned her head, and out from the shadows came the distinguished and handsome face of her father, Lord Capulet. She stood there frozen for a moment as she took in his mesmerising features—a sharp square-set jaw, a well-kept beard, and dark red eyes that could burn holes right through her if she ever dared to disobey him. Juliet swallowed hard as she imagined her father as a young man on his sixteenth birthday, snapping the neck of an innocent human, then biting down into his flesh and sucking every ounce of blood from his veins. “I’m not hiding,” Juliet replied meekly. “I just needed to be alone with my thoughts for a moment.” Three young women, all around Juliet’s age, passed by, giggling like they did not have a care in the world. Juliet watched as her father’s red eyes tracked the girls. Lord Capulet’s mouth broke into a wide grin, causing Juliet to shudder. She couldn’t help but picture all the naive human women he must have lured into his lair with his charming smile and then “turned” into vampires with a swift, deep bite to their necks and a few drops of his blood. The physical rush from turning humans into vampires was as strong as a dose of opium. The practice had run rampant in the vampire world for years, but it became less popular when their numbers grew and grew and there was not enough food to go around. Now with the peace treaty in effect, turning was also illegal, and those who continued to perform the act did so in absolute secrecy. “You haven’t been down to the ball yet,” Lord Capulet said. “Why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you?” “I’d rather not.” Juliet knew confiding in her father was not a good idea. Sometimes his temper ran even hotter than Lady Capulet’s. “Your mother mentioned something. That you’d rather abstain from the initiation and die than become what you were meant to be.” Lord Capulet stepped away from Juliet, his cape whipping behind him, and peered out over the top of the staircase as though he were a monarch looking down on his kingdom. “I didn’t pay it any mind, given how hysterical women tend to be.” Juliet felt prickles of heat wash over her neck like a rash. Thankfully, it wasn’t visible, because of the high collar of the emerald green gown her nurse had picked out for her this evening. “Hysteria is the invention of men who aren’t able to control their spouses and daughters. Frankly, I believe I’m the only one in this family with the slightest sense of what is right and wrong,” she said tightly. “Loyalty comes above all else, Juliet, even your sense of morality, however misguided it may be.” Lord Capulet kept his gaze trained on the merriment of the crowd downstairs; he was visibly unaffected by what Juliet had said to him. A fit of anger bubbled up inside her chest, which she was barely able to contain. “Don’t you mean duty, my lord?” Juliet’s tone was even more pointed now. “With loyalty, a person has a choice of whether or not to stand by someone. For instance, by asking Radu here, you are choosing to betray your loyalty to Vladimir, are you not?” Juliet was sure that her accusation would tweak her father’s ego. The large bell in the north tower rang out five times, signalling that Prince Radu’s horse and carriage had made it through the castle’s main doors. Lord Capulet bared his sharp fangs. Juliet moved backwards, her hands trembling. She’d seen this menacing side of him many times before, and each instance was just as terrifying as the last. Lord Capulet bolted towards Juliet, grabbing her by both arms, his nails leaving indentations near her elbows. “This wilfulness of yours stops now. Do you understand me?” Juliet’s breath was coming in large gasps. By the possessed look in Lord Capulet’s red eyes, she realised she’d upset him much more than she had intended. Juliet couldn’t bring herself to speak, so she only nodded. “You will help me and your mother show the prince that we are deserving of this castle and our riches and our right to survive! Or you will pay such a dear price that starvation and death will seem like a sweet reward to you.” Juliet could no longer look into Lord Capulet’s rage-filled eyes. She bowed her head in submission and said, “Yes, Father.” A flood of applause carried throughout the rafters of the Great Hall. A booming voice called out, “Prince Radu of Wallachia and his sergeant at arms, Sir Felix.” Lord Capulet let go of Juliet and inhaled deeply, putting one of his hands on his chest. His shoulders relaxed and the expression on his face went from agitated to serene. Lord Capulet held out a hand and smiled once again. His fangs had receded, but still she was hesitant to go near him. “Come, Juliet,” he beckoned. “It is time to fight for our lives.” As Juliet wove her way through the crowd, reluctantly holding on to Lord Capulet’s arm, acrid whispers were needling her ears. Her father seemed impervious to the noise, slowly floating above the marble floor with his chin jutting out and his fiery eyes locked on the raised platform where he was to meet Lady Capulet and greet Prince Radu. With her head hung low, Juliet tried to block the steady stream of voices from her mind, but they were impossible to ignore. “Lord Capulet is fooling himself. He will never convince the prince to revoke his ruling,” said a distant female relative who Juliet couldn’t quite place. The woman shared Lady Capulet’s high cheekbones, and from the look of her silken violet-coloured dress, also the lady’s impeccable taste in exquisite fabrics. A statuesque, crimson-eyed man clutching a goblet filled to the brim with a dark red liquid seemed annoyed by her comment. “For God’s sake, look around you. He has turned our family into a dynasty, in spite of those scum-sucking Montagues. He is capable of anything, and charming anyone, including the prince of peace here.” The man put his nose up to the rim of the glass and inhaled, like one would do with a fine wine, but his lips pursed as though he smelled something repulsive. He must have taken one of the large pewter cups full of pig’s blood that the servants were passing around, Juliet thought. Since the treaty, all of the Capulets had been reduced to living off it. From the looks of things, this big change hadn’t seemed to affect the vampires, but many believed that human blood was what made vampires so strong, and over time, the lack of it would substantially weaken them. From the way her parents had been acting lately, Juliet figured the theory was true. Yet at the same time, she didn’t want to believe it. While the peace treaty could not protect her from her initiation rite, Prince Radu had finally done what Juliet had never been able to do—stop her family from harming people. Not only that, it would certainly discourage the Montagues from hunting her vampire relatives down, now that they would be facing a death sentence. Still, Juliet believed that the Capulets feared losing their political power, social rank, and affluence more than losing their physical prowess. Without their superhuman strength, they would not be able to guard any of it. So it wasn’t just the lack of bloodlust that separated her from the rest of the Capulets—it was also her lack of greed. As Juliet walked towards the platform at the head of the Great Hall, she tried to settle her thoughts, but the twittering of the crowd had become more insistent. “This treaty might just redeem their souls, don’t you think?” a brunette-haired maiden chirped, her limestone crucifix pendant catching the light emanating from the candelabras on the ceiling. All the human guests at the ball were wearing one type of cross or another around their necks—doing so would make their bodies hot as fire to any vampire who dared touch them. It was certainly a bold reminder to the Capulets that they were far from being trusted. “Do you honestly believe a diet of pig’s blood and a signed scroll is going to bring out the good in them? We’re better off letting the Montagues hunt them to extinction, which will be easy once their bodies are weakened,” her short and pudgy male escort replied. Juliet swallowed hard. Perhaps the treaty would not be so effective in protecting her family as she’d thought. As she took a few more steps forward, her father’s strong hand tightly clamped over her own, she shut her eyes briefly and tried to clear her mind. When she opened them a moment later, Lady Capulet was within view, as well as Prince Radu and his highest-ranking knight, Felix. Juliet never believed she would find anyone more intimidating than her mother, who stood so straight and rigid that she appeared to be a good ten feet tall. However, the longer Juliet looked at the prince, with his salt-coloured hair, pink windburned cheeks, and virtuous-looking pale blue eyes, the more in awe of him she became. Once she and Lord Capulet ascended the platform, Juliet could also see that the prince was wearing a red military-type uniform, which was similar to that of his sergeant at arms, only slimmer in the shoulders and more decorated with medals. Everything about him demanded respect, especially the brutish, scowling Sir Felix, who made no effort to conceal the long-sword at his side. When her father bowed before the prince, Juliet lowered herself into her most reverent curtsy, her gown rippling around her like a wave of green spring leaves. “Good evening, Prince Radu. We are delighted to have you and Sir Felix at our home,” Lord Capulet said. “Thank you, good sir.” Prince Radu raised his eyebrows in amazement as he watched Lord Capulet levitating above the floor, right next to Juliet. “I am pleased to be here among your family and … shall I say ‘friends'?” “Acquaintances mostly, but future allies, I hope.” Lord Capulet extended his hand to a lavishly dressed Lady Capulet and guided her to his left side. “You already met my lovely wife at the gate.” “It is a great honour, Prince Radu,” Lady Capulet said as she delivered a perfect floating curtsy. Juliet was surprised that her mother could even get back up—the onyx choker around her neck was so gigantic, it must have weighed twenty pounds. “And this is our precious daughter, Juliet.” Juliet stifled a sarcastic laugh. If anyone had caught her with her father a few minutes ago, they would have questioned his use of the word “precious". Nevertheless, Prince Radu smiled at Juliet and planted a gentle kiss on her hand. “It is a privilege to meet you, Your Highness,” Juliet said. “The privilege is mine, young lady,” the prince replied. After a few moments of pleasantries, Juliet’s father gestured towards the expansive Great Hall. “Shall I show you around the castle before I present you to the rest of our company?” Lord Capulet offered. The prince glanced around the room, taking in the artistry of the Gothic rose windows and beautiful hand-woven, wall-hanging tapestries all around him. “Yes, I’d enjoy that.” As Lord Capulet began to lead the prince and Sir Felix away, Juliet felt her mother’s fingers lace through her own. A cold sensation travelled up Juliet’s arm and deep into her chest. When in the presence of her mother, she usually was tense, but this feeling of dread was in a class of its own. “Good God, I thought they would never stop talking. There is no time to waste,” Lady Capulet said, pulling her daughter down the stairs of the platform with great fervour. Juliet tried to writhe away from her mother’s grip, but it was useless. Lady Capulet’s strength matched that of her husband’s. “Where are you taking me?” Juliet asked. Lady Capulet grinned, her teeth slightly stained with pig’s blood. “You will see soon enough.” CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_ace24c06-8666-5418-9c06-a3affd5a7f43) Romeo peeled back the hood of his grey cloak and gazed up at the foreboding mass of stone and brick that was Capulet Castle. Protected by a gigantic iron gate that seemed to reach into the clouds, the building stretched out for at least seven hundred yards and had four enormous towers from which a handful of guards with crossbows stood watch. Romeo was dumbstruck by its imperviousness. He could hardly believe that any Montague had ever breached these grounds, let alone launched a fully-fledged attack on the vampires inside. A fierce wind roared through the heavy brush outside the castle’s perimeter, where Romeo, Benvolio, and Mercutio lay in wait, crouched down behind a swathe of shrubbery under the light of a half-moon. Even though the fabric of his cloak was thick wool, a frigid chill ravaged his body and he shuddered. Then again, perhaps his nerves were just getting the best of him. For over an hour, he had been waiting for a sign from Rosaline’s maid servant, Maribel. She would turn on a gaslight in the last room to the left on the ground floor, once the secret door in the servants’ quarters was unlocked. Romeo was deeply concerned that something was wrong. Although Mercutio was quite intelligent, he was known for getting involved with women who were pretty yet dim-witted—perhaps she had forgotten all about them. Romeo felt his hands beginning to shake. He had to distract himself. “Did I tell either of you about the dream I had last night?” he asked in a soft voice. Mercutio scratched at his neck with the handle of his parrying knife. “No, you did not.” “If it is about Rosaline and her half-breed bosoms, we are not interested,” Benvolio said as he canvassed the area with a studious gaze. “Speak for yourself.” Mercutio nudged Benvolio. Benvolio rolled his eyes and shoved Mercutio back with his elbow so hard that Mercutio fell into a pile of sticky moss. “Take cover, Romeo. I’m about to punch Benvolio’s lights out,” Mercutio growled. “Will you be quiet?” Romeo whispered. “You know how sensitive the vampires’ hearing is.” Benvolio took a dagger that was hidden beneath hissleeve and stabbed the ground near Romeo’s feet, turning and twisting it until a mound of dirt and worms was wrought up from the topsoil. “We could take them all on if we had to,” he said. Romeo shoved his hands into the pockets of his cloak. “Remind me to have a doctor take a look at you, Cousin. You’re obviously delusional.” “Maybe he’ll be committed to a sanatorium,” Mercutio said snidely. “We’d all be better off.” “Actually, I could use some sanity right now,” Romeo said. “That dream of mine was terrifying.” Benvolio’s eyes widened. “Really? Go on.” Romeo glanced at Benvolio and Mercutio sceptically, knowing that they’d probably laugh at his story. But when he looked at the window again and saw nothing but pitch-blackness, he continued. “I dreamed that my lady came and found me dead, impaled by Vladimir himself. Then I was brought back to life by her kisses on my lips.” “That does not sound so awful,” Mercutio said. “I agree, you survived in the end,” Benvolio added. “You do not understand. I was alive again, but … as one of them.” Romeo nodded at the castle ominously. “Don’t worry, Romeo.” Benvolio picked up a worm and let it crawl around in his open palm, then suddenly flicked it off with his finger. “If this dream came true and you were turned by one of those filthy monsters, I would put you out of your misery. I could not promise you that it would be painless, but rest assured, it would be quick.” Romeo crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “That is very thoughtful of you, Benvolio.” “Romeo, look! The light came on inside the castle!” Mercutio said, pointing at the room where the maid servant had promised to give them safe passage. Romeo sighed in relief. “Thanks be to God.” “Do not thank God yet,” warned Benvolio as he patted Romeo hard on the back. “This mission has only just begun. Who knows what will happen when we enter the vampire lair during dinnertime?” “Stop being so dramatic,” Mercutio said as he reached into a hessian sack and pulled out three garlic cloves attached to link chains. “Here, take these. Friar Laurence dipped the cloves in triple-blessed holy water and the chain is made of pure silver. This combination will render us invisible to both vampires and werewolves. But it only lasts for another hour, so Romeo, you and your wench cannot dawdle.” “One more foul word about Rosaline, and I will pummel you with my fist,” Romeo snapped, ripping his string of garlic away from Mercutio and putting it around his neck. “Actually, I think you should bludgeon him with this.” Benvolio reached into the hessian sack and brought out a foot-long crowbar. Romeo stared at it in sheer amazement. “What else do you have in that bag?” “Just the usual—a handsaw, wooden stakes, a mason chisel, shears, and a couple of axes,” Mercutio explained matter-of-factly. “I suppose that will suffice,” Romeo said. “We cannot carry it all. That would only slow us down. Pick just one or two weapons and follow me.” Benvolio sneaked out of the bushes with cloves of garlic dangling around his neck and the crowbar in his right hand. Romeo stuffed the mason chisel and a wooden stake into the waistband of his trousers and then darted off behind Mercutio, who was already ahead and walking stride for stride with Benvolio. Romeo’s heart started pounding as he and his cousin dashed across the outskirts of the estate, making their way towards the gate. Romeo kept his eyes trained on the tower guards to make sure they had not been spotted. Fortunately, no one seemed the slightest bit aware of the Montague trespassers. The necklaces must have been working. “Here it is,” Mercutio whispered. He halted in front of a warped section of the gate, where one of the bars was bent to the side, creating a small hole. “Maribel told me that when she steals away to see me, she slips through this spot here to evade the guards.” Benvolio examined the damaged gate and sniggered. “Obviously she eats less than your last lady friend. That boar could not have got through here if she tried!” Mercutio poked Benvolio in the stomach with the handle of his mallet. “Neither will you, my paunchy friend.” “Stop fooling around and step aside.” Romeo snatched the crowbar away from Benvolio, wrapping his fingers around the base of it with all his strength. “We have a party to attend.” Careful not to make any loud sounds that would alert the guards, Romeo placed the crowbar between the two metal rungs in the gate so he could get ample leverage. He shifted his shoulders forward and then leaned backwards, hoping to prise the rungs apart even further so he and his cousins could sneak through. However, his effort made little difference. Romeo tried again, this time using both his arms and his leg muscles with all his might. His palms became wet with perspiration and his arms ached, but he ignored the pain and thought of Rosaline—her gorgeous, milk-coloured skin and bright, beaming eyes. He was so close to seeing her, he would not let anything or anyone stand in between them. Romeo dug deep into his soul for a surge of brute power, and with one final swift, heaving motion, he bent the metal rung so far that it almost snapped in two. “Aha! I did it! “ Romeo said, pumping a fist into the air in jubilation. “Congratulations, Romeo. That only took forever.” Benvolio rolled his eyes. “Let’s get on with this already,” Mercutio said. “I will lead the way,” Romeo said as he handed the crowbar to Benvolio and stepped through the new partition in the gate. One at a time, Benvolio and Mercutio followed behind him, their feet swift and light on the ground. “It is so dark out here. I can hardly see anything,” Romeo said, using the ambient yellow glow from the maid servant’s window to guide himself across the grounds. Suddenly Mercutio stopped dead in his tracks. “Wait, did you hear that?” “Hear what?” Romeo asked. “It sounded like … growling.” Romeo remained still and listened. Other than the sound of rustling tree branches, he did not hear anything out of the ordinary. “It is just the wind, Mercutio. Carry on.” The trio picked up their pace, taking large strides towards the castle, but they did not get too far before Benvolio made an abrupt stop. “Mercutio is right. Something is out here, watching us.” Benvolio shifted his legs apart into a fighting stance and held the crowbar in an attack position. Romeo could hear it now—a low, hungry growl that was seething with anger. He instinctively rubbed a garlic clove between his fingers. “Mercutio, you said we were invisible to vampires and werewolves.” A thin stream of moonlight illuminated two pairs of beady golden eyes and salivating mouths with sharp teeth. “But not to dogs,” Mercutio said, his voice wavering. Romeo gulped as the two snouts sniffed the air for fear. “This is bad,” Benvolio said. “Very bad,” Romeo agreed. Once one of the dogs had lunged at them, there was nothing left to do but— “Run!” Benvolio proclaimed, and took off like a scared rabbit. Without a second to lose, Romeo broke into a fast sprint, with Mercutio scrambling alongside him and the dogs in hot pursuit. Romeo ran through a cluster of stone bunkers and over a wooden footbridge that crossed a small moat. Mercutio put forth a burst of momentum and dashed past Romeo, which annoyed him immensely. With both his mates ahead of him, Romeo was tempted to look back and see how close the dogs were, but that would only slow him down. Besides, their ferocious barking was ringing in his ears, so he knew they were on his heels. “This way! “ Mercutio called out from a few feet ahead. Romeo was running so hard he was barely able to breathe. He locked his gaze on Mercutio, who had reached the window of the ground floor and dropped to his knees in front of it. Mercutio quickly felt around a thick swathe of grass with both hands, searching for the hidden door handle. He pulled the door open to reveal a secret entrance to an underground tunnel. “Hurry!” Mercutio waved at Benvolio and Romeo. Benvolio got there first, leaping into the entrance-way like a flying acrobat. Romeo was three or four steps away when he felt something tug hard at the bottom of his cloak. There was another sharp yank on his arm and he was dragged to the ground. While the dogs gnawed on his cloak, he tried to reach for the mason chisel he had lodged in the waistband of his trousers, but he could not grasp it. He said a short prayer, just in case he didn’t survive the brutal mauling about to unfold. Luckily for Romeo, the dogs let go of him willingly, in order to chase down large chunks of raw meat that had just been tossed into a row of rosebushes. He glanced up and grinned at Mercutio, who was standing above him with a light glaze of blood on his hands. “Maribel’s a smart one.” Mercutio beamed. “She left some treats for the dogs at the foot of the door. I guess they haven’t eaten in a while.” “Well, that much is obvious,” Romeo replied. “Let’s get out of here before they are ready for dessert.” Mercutio held a hand out to Romeo, and he took it in his, bloodied and all. When he was back on his feet, he gave Mercutio a heartfelt smile. “Mercutio, I owe you my life,” he said. “Romeo, I am your friend. You owe me nothing.” Mercutio placed a hand on Romeo’s shoulder and grinned. “Now come on. You have a half-breed to woo.” Romeo smiled and shook his head, then followed Mercutio down into the secret tunnel. CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_b34a2f6d-3af0-576a-97f7-c4ec5c2aba26) The life had practically been squeezed out of Juliet’s hand when her mother finally let go. Lady Capulet had dragged her to the edge of the dance floor, where an older, impeccably dressed vampire floated at attention before her. As Juliet shook out her pink fingers, hoping to revive them, she became distracted by all the graceful couples who moved in choreographed unison to the music. But when she felt Lady Capulet nudge her forcefully in the shoulder, Juliet’s eyes shot back to the man who her mother obviously wanted her to meet. “I apologise for our tardiness, my lord,” Lady Capulet said with a dutiful curtsy. “Welcoming the prince took longer than expected.” “Oh, an apology is unnecessary,” the vampire replied as he stared intently at Juliet. “Although I’msetting eyes on her for the first time, I can already tell that meeting your daughter has been worth the wait.” Juliet stifled a laugh. The vampire’s charm was so uninspired and clich?d, it was comical. “Juliet, this is Count Paris. He has come a long way to see you,” her mother said eagerly. A flash of prickly heat was quickly visible upon Juliet’s cheeks. This was certainly the same Count Paris who had written to her. “Hello, sir,” she muttered, and bowed her head in respect. The count raised an expectant eyebrow and smirked. “Would you care to dance, Miss Juliet?” “She would love to,” Lady Capulet answered, gently pushing her daughter towards Count Paris. Almost instantly, Juliet was swept away by the count for a saltarello, a courtly dance that included box steps, twirls, and promenades. Count Paris stood next to Juliet, then reached behind her and put his right hand on her waist. As Juliet extended her left arm out to the side, he took her left hand in his. “I haven’t danced in ages. This will be great fun,” he said cheerfully. Juliet gave him a faint smile. Somehow she felt that dancing with him would be quite the opposite. And she was absolutely right. With each step, the count’s grip on her waist became tighter and tighter. Sometimes, she swore that she could feel his nails clawing through the lace panels of her dress. But regardless of how uncomfortable she was, she managed to keep an airy expression on her face, because everyone at the ball—including a delighted Lady Capulet—was gawking at her as she danced in his arms. “This music reminds me of my childhood in Bulgaria. My mother loves the sound of the panflute,” Count Paris said in an attempt to make small talk. “Have you ever been there?” “No, my lord. I’m afraid I haven’t travelled much outside Wallachia,” she replied. Count Paris ran his hand down her back. “I have a strong feeling that is all about to change.” Juliet glanced over at the performer who was currently blowing into the panflute, willing him to cease playing so that she could excuse herself from this awkward encounter. But from the way Count Paris was breathing heavily in her ear, she could tell that her partner wanted the music to last until the first hint of morning light. “Your parents never mentioned how beautiful you are,” the count murmured as he spun Juliet out to his left side and then back again. She tried not to roll her eyes. “I suppose Lord and Lady Capulet do not like to boast.” Juliet did not have the heart to tell Count Paris that she knew little about him, other than what he’drevealed in the letter he’d written. Nor did she have the nerve to say that while the “blessing” of immortality—and perhaps even the quality of human blood—had kept vampires rather young and virile over the years, it didn’t necessarily make all of them attractive. With his pointy chin, bulbous nose, and ears that stuck out like an elephant’s, Count Paris was proof of that. Still, Juliet was not as shallow and fickle as other maidens her age. She believed that a person’s soul was to be loved above their physical appearance, which is why she found Count Paris’s leeriness more disturbing than the large mole upon his chin. Apparently, the vampire in front of her was not the cordial gentleman he presented in his letter. Count Paris led Juliet into a short promenade, floating slightly above the floor with a proud look in his blazing red eyes. “No one should be modest when describing you, my dear.” “You are most kind.” Juliet tried to think of a reason to take leave of him—an ill-fitting shoe? a severe headache?—but whenever a dance step led her into her mother’s line of sight, she resolved to continue. “What do you think of the ball so far?” the count asked, twirling her three times in a row. Juliet steadied herself on her silver heels, which were a touch too high for her. “I suppose it’s … nice.” “Only ‘nice'?” Count Paris laughed. “I doubt that your mother or father would be happy with that answer. They have worked so hard to impress the prince.” “Oh, I am very aware of that, my lord,” Juliet said as she dipped under the count’s right arm and circled around him. “I’m not sure if you know this, but the prince and I have become very close as of late. I’m one of his most trusted ambassadors,” the count said. “When Vladimir was thrown into prison, Radu wanted to hire someone to negotiate with the Capulets. There was no one better suited to take on this task than a vampire, of course.” “So do you think you’ll be able to convince Radu to reconsider his ruling?” Juliet knew it was slightly rude to put him on the spot, but she hoped that his response would be no. The count took her hands in his and gazed at an opulent gold ring with a sea green stone that sparkled on her right index finger. “This is quite lovely. Is it aquamarine?” he asked, changing the subject entirely. “No, actually, it’s turquoise. My father gave it to me on my thirteenth birthday,” Juliet said, sighing. There was only one topic she was interested in hearing the man talk about, and he was obviously refusing to share his views with her. Did that mean he was uncertain of his abilities as a diplomat? Considering everything that was at stake for her family, Juliet was understandably curious. “Well, you are worth spoiling,” the count added as he kissed both her hands. “What about the prince? Does he think Vladimir spoiled the Capulets? It will come as no surprise that my family is afraid of losing all of their wealth and power over the region.” Count Paris led her into another promenade. “I do not wish to talk about politics with you, Juliet.” “Why not? Because I’m a woman?” “Just barely,” the count sniggered. “But that is not the reason.” “What is it, then?” Juliet said, anchoring her feet to the ground and not budging another step. The count cast his iridescent red eyes upon her and smirked. “Because you truly aren’t one of us … yet.” “Ah, I see. I won’t be worth listening to until I can suck all the lifeblood out of some poor, unsuspecting person,” Juliet said sharply. The tone of her voice would have made most men flinch, but this vampire was still grinning from ear to ear. “That is not what I meant.” “Yes, it is,” she huffed. “Please, Juliet, I’d much rather talk about more pleasurable things,” Count Paris said, pulling her in so close that their lips almost touched. “Like what you think about me.” Juliet wrestled away from his embrace, but the count held her by the elbows and stroked a small patch of her bare skin with his thumb. “I’m afraid that I have no thoughts to share,” she said plainly. “I know virtually nothing about you.” Thankfully, the flautist ended his song with a long, whistling note. Count Paris let go of her arms so he could join in the applause. Juliet sighed in sweet relief and hoped that she could make her exit soon. “Well then, I suppose I must better acquaint you,” Count Paris said, once the crowd began to bustle again. “Quite frankly, when it comes to me, there are only a few things that you need concern yourself with.” Juliet peered over her shoulder to see if her mother was trying to eavesdrop on them, and was elated to see that she was nowhere to be found. “And what are those?” A servant passed by with a tray stacked with blood-filled goblets and Juliet winced when he reached for one. The smell of pig entrails made her incredibly nauseous. Count Paris took a long swig from the cup and blotted a stream of blood from his mouth with a white handkerchief. “I come from one of the finest families in Europe. We live in a castle, much grander than this one, and Prince Radu has asked me to be chancellor of Transylvania. I hope my elevated status pleases you.” Juliet felt a knot forming in her stomach. The way the count had just listed his assets could only mean one thing. “I’m not sure why any of that should matter to me, sir.” “Well, because in a few short days you will become my wife,” he said with a broad smile. “Wife?!” Juliet felt a rapid fluttering sensation inside her chest. This was exactly what she had feared when she read his stupid letter. “I have it all arranged with your mother and father. An alliance between our families will help improve your father’s relationship with the new prince, especially now, when so much is at stake. Once you complete your first kill and transition, I will take your hand in marriage. Then you and your family will have nothing more to worry about … ever.” Count Paris raised his eyebrows at Juliet, who just stood there, completely aghast. “Would you care to make a celebratory toast? I can hail another servant and get you some wine. But I should warn you, madam—after you have your first taste of blood, there’s no going back.” A blistering sting spread throughout Juliet’s entire body, one she’d never felt before. She wanted to get back at the count and her parents for using her as a bargaining chip in this twisted political game of theirs. Juliet imagined looking them all in their beady, red eyes and then spitting in their faces. Fortunately, Juliet managed to squelch her rage somewhat and rebuked the count in a more appropriate way. She grabbed his goblet, held it up, and proclaimed, “To wedded bliss!” Then she quickly poured all the contents over Count Paris’s head, dousing him to the very last drop. Her “fianc?” let out a startled yelp, alerting everyone around them to what had just happened. A group of socialites gasped at Juliet’s outrageous behaviour, while one of the dour-looking elder vampires shook his head and mumbled, “Lord Capulet will have her whipped when he sees this.” But he will have to catch me first, Juliet thought, and she sprinted out of the Great Hall to a place where no one would find her. Underneath the ground floor of the castle ran four long, dark tunnels. The servants used them in the morning to access other rooms in the building without disturbing the vampires as they slept in their chambers; at night, the servants used them to evade the guards and exit the castle for an unscheduled evening of leisure in town. Originally, the tunnels had been constructed so that if the castle ever came under attack by the Montagues, the Capulets could move throughout the interior without detection and ambush their enemy. Some of the tunnels led to prison cells, where torture devices, like thumbscrews and knee splitters, were stored. At the end of the south tunnel, there was a room such as this. It was about the size of two wardrobes, and Juliet would take refuge there whenever she clashed with Lord and Lady Capulet. She was on her way there now, weaving and darting through the underground system as she’d done countless times before. Since she had the routes memorised, she could navigate them easily in the near pitch-blackness. The echo of her heels clicking against the slippery stone masked distant whispers that were being carried in the thin air. One woman’s voice sounded familiar to her, but the others belonged to strangers. Juliet did not want to be caught in the bowels of the castle by the servants, so she picked up the pace, grabbing hold of the hem of her dress so it would not trip her up and swiftly ducking her head when she passed by places where the ceiling hung low. After a good fifteen yards, she closed in on the secret room. Juliet opened the door and went inside. She reached into her shoe and pulled out a match, in hopes of lighting the oil lamp that she had brought down to the room a few days ago. She struck the match against the wall and it burst into a bright orange flame. All of a sudden a terrified shriek rang out, startling Juliet so much that she toppled to the ground. A large black boot came out of the darkness, then a huge white hand with long, sharp fingernails. A set of wide red eyes became visible, along with a toothy grin that Juliet knew all too well. “Tybalt? Is that you?” she whispered. Juliet scrambled for the oil lamp that was in the corner of the room, lighting the wick just before the match extinguished itself. Her mouth went agape when she saw a busty blonde woman, dressed only in her pink lacy undergarments, and her handsome cousin, putting his shirt back on. “Don’t you know how to knock?” Tybalt asked as he basked in the soft glow of the lamplight. “And stop staring at me like that. This isn’t what you think.” Juliet put her hands on her hips. “Why do I find that hard to believe?” Tybalt smiled at her as though nothing strange were going on. “Because you’re too young, that’s why.” “You said we wouldn’t be found down here, Tibby,” the lady whimpered. Juliet let out a giggle. “Tibby, eh? Isn’t that sweet.” “Be quiet, Cecilia!” he retorted into the cell. Juliet gasped and kicked Tybalt hard in the shins, then stormed out into the tunnel, happy to hear her cousin groan in pain. Tybalt limped out of the room and stepped in front of Juliet, preventing her from leaving. “What are you so upset about? She and I are just having ourselves a bit of interspecies fun. There’s no law against that, is there?” Tybalt enquired while he buttoned up his shirt. “You can be such a disgusting lout!” Juliet snapped, and stomped her foot. Tybalt laughed and patted her on the head. “And you’re still a little girl.” “I suppose that’s why I’m down here, hiding,” Juliet said, sighing. “From your destiny, I presume?” Juliet nodded. “Well, I’m afraid you will never accomplish that. You are a Capulet, through and through, warts and all,” he said, smoothing out his shoulder-length auburn locks. “That may be, but there is one way to avoid my fate,” she said, her voice serious. “What, starve to death? Do not even threaten something like that.” Tybalt’s face suddenly filled with concern. “Why not? If I get caught performing the ritual, I will be sentenced to death anyway, by the orders of Prince Radu,” she replied. “You won’t get caught,” Tybalt said. “I can tell you from experience that your natural, cunning instincts are strongest on your sixteenth birthday. You’ll know in your bones everything you need to do.” He peered over his shoulder at the practically naked young maiden in the cell. “You should trust me on this one.” Juliet rolled her eyes. “Like that woman in there trusts you? Please, I’m much smarter than that.” “Is that so?” Tybalt challenged her. “You have her down here because you plan to turn her, but I bet she doesn’t know that, does she?” Juliet said through clenched teeth. Tybalt was not in the least bit offended by Juliet’s accusation. He just grinned and said, “Guilty as charged, Cousin. But I have a feeling I’ll be able to convince her that life as a vampire is much more interesting. Don’t you agree?” Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/claudia-gabel/romeo-and-juliet-and-vampires/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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