Romeo and Juliet and Vampires

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.