Romeo and Juliet and Vampires

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!”