R+J Sucks

by Ann Hunter

A mother wronged

  Romeo had to read it twice, not believing what he saw. Juliet… dead. No!

  He fell to his knees, shaking.

  “Everything alright?” Paris asked with concern. “Let’s be gentlemanly about this.”

  Romeo looked up, hoping the inferno rending him apart inside blazed through his eyes. He didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be true.

  “If I surrender,” he said hoarsely, his voice betraying him, “will you grant me one last request?”

  Paris smiled, looking like he had won. “Of course.”

  Romeo braced against the heavy green doors of the cathedral, rising to his feet. “Take me to the crypt of the Capulets, and there I will pay.”

  AMABA CON TODA SU ALMA

  Muir Woods, California…

  Romeo Montague only caught patches of light through the blindfold Paris placed around his head. He had been shoved into a vehicle and taken so far from Father Laurence’s cathedral that he only knew there was no going back to Verona.

  The only thing Romeo thought about was the letter he’d received from Juliet’s mother, Villiana. A script so outraged and anguished, he felt his last option was to submit to servitude.

  Juliet’s dead.

  He couldn’t believe it. How could this have happened? The draught of the Eversleep should have made her mortal, not killed her. She was to send word to find her. Instead, Villiana had relayed the loss of her daughter. It seemed only fitting that Romeo offer himself as a thrall in exchange. A life for a life.

  When the vehicle finally rolled to a stop, Romeo was tugged out by Paris’s men. He had sensed them beside him on the trip, an eerie untouchable feeling. They had flanked him for hours. The birds that sang outside almost made Romeo forget he was about to die.

  The first thing he saw when the blindfold came off was Paris stepping back from him, tucking the black cloth into his breast pocket. Romeo’s eyesight adjusted to the early morning light, taking in the magnificent sight of redwoods overlooking Verona.

  Soft orange and pink light cast itself over the horizon. People in town were probably just starting their day. Living their lives. Oblivious that death walked among them. Even though he hurt inside, Romeo still appreciated the beauty.

  Behind him, he vaguely registered Paris talking to someone.

  “I have him, Grandfather. He’s agreed to submit.”

  Romeo looked over his shoulder just as Paris slid a cellphone inside his tailored suit.

  “It’s this way,” Paris said, skulking off into the woods.

  Paris’s men closed in around Romeo, seeming like they would strike if he didn’t move. Or maybe they thought he would change his mind. He looked around at them. The Royal Vanguard looked more like members of the mafia rather than knights of old like their name would suggest. Black suits, crimson lapels, cufflinks. All donning shades.

  Romeo sighed. This was it. He followed Paris.

  As heavy as his heart was, Romeo’s footsteps fell heavier. The sound of them padding against the earth felt like hollow thuds. A hazy mist rose up from the earth between the tree trunks, giving the surrounding area an ethereal feel. Paris, moving on ahead, seemed ghostly; a silhouette in an easy fog. The smell of earth and damp air filled Romeo’s lungs. He drew them slowly, surely, thinking they might be the last he would be conscientiously aware of.

  Paris disappeared into the brume, but the Vanguard urged Romeo on until they came to a small clearing where a singular granite monument jutted from the earth. A carving of the letter C was hugged by a victor’s wreath on the face of the massive plinth. Vines snaked around the cracking marble, dotted by tiny white blossoms.

  Romeo watched Paris reach to the side of the stone, and the front lowered into the earth like a gaping maw waiting to devour him. Romeo gulped, and stepped back involuntarily, only to be greeted by the feeling of a knife against his spine.

  Paris folded his arm across his middle, bowed, and waved him in. “I’ll give you a moment.”

  Romeo clenched his fists, gathered his courage, and nodded. His legs felt like weights too heavy to drag, but he did not look back. Rays of light splitting through the tree tops gave way to utter darkness as he descended into the crypt.

  The scent of the damp forest outside paled to the crypt’s interior. It practically dripped musty. Romeo placed his hand against the wall to steady his way down. In the ground corners, he could almost make out crops of fungi. His nose wrinkled.

  He shook his hand away when it ran across a thin patch of slimy mildew. He rubbed his palm against his pants. For being rich, the Capulets didn’t seem to care much for their dead. They sure didn’t take care of this place.

  What little light fought its way into the stairwell shone just enough to reveal Juliet laying on a marble stand, joined a few feet away by Tybalt, whose skin had turned as silver as molten metal. Romeo paused, bracing himself at the sight of Juliet.

  “I couldn’t believe them. I had to see for myself,” he whispered, stepping closer. He gazed into her face. It was so still and peaceful, she could have been sleeping.

  “I don’t know what I was hoping to see. If you were ash, it would be easier than to face you now. You’re here, but you’re not. To lie so still in all your wonderfulness. Es injusto. Not fair.”

  He shook his head and took her hand in his own, as cold as ever. “You and I have lost so much. I lost my brothers. You lost Tybalt.” Romeo nodded to him, then looked back to her. “But we gained so much more. We had each other.”

  As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to make out more of the crypt. An arch in the back leading down into blackness, broken coffins, crumbling bones. He shouldn’t be here. A sense of foreboding told him the living did not belong among the dead. He swallowed.

  “If everything wasn’t so hard, I’d say we were not fated, mi corazón. But the world has been so against us, I must believe you are my un amor verdadero— one true love. I’ve got to fight to stay with you. And the only way I see to do that is to give myself to those who love you as I do.”

  Romeo stroked her hair, remembering their kiss on the beach beneath the stars. No night had been darker, or full of more light, because she was a part of it. His throat tightened. Tears stung his eyes. “I want the suffering to end. If you’re not in the world, I don’t want to be either. At least I’ll be with Lio, con familia. If I’m not a threat to your family anymore, maybe your Prince will spare mi mama. This may be the only way to save us.”

  He knelt by her side, and kissed her hand, vowing, “I dedicate my soul to you. I lay it before your family.”

  It would not be said that Romeo Montague died a coward. For this chico amaba con toda su alma— loved with his soul.

  “No hay mayor amor que este hombre; Que dé su vida por los que ama… no greater love, cariña. No greater love.”

  Romeo closed his eyes and breathed, knowing Paris was waiting. “I’m ready.”

  VENOM

  The sound of Paris’s dress shoes clipping down the crypt stairs was nearly silent. Romeo didn’t bother looking at him, expecting only to be taken as a thrall in the last few steps. Waiting for a rush, and a bite, that would end quickly.

  Instead, Paris walked past him, to Juliet’s side. “She is lovely.”

  Romeo looked up to him from where he knelt. Paris combed his fingers through Juliet’s hair, leaning his head to one side to consider her.

  “Sui generis; unique.” Paris’s steely gaze drilled through Romeo. “And you spoiled her.”

  Romeo’s brow furrowed. How had he spoiled her? He only loved her.

  “You humans think you’re entitled to everything,” Paris murmured. “You take what you want. There’s no order to your chaos.”

  “I would say the same for you, chico.”

  “No. There is a code we vampires abide by. We keep to ourselves. We stick to the shadows so humans can have the light. You… You barged into our world. Interloper.”

  The image of Juliet in her silver gown at the
dance where they first met flooded Romeo’s mind. He didn’t ask for this. She’d swept him into her world.

  Paris continued, “People hate what they fear. And they fear what they do not understand. Well… Oderint dum metuant.”

  “Sui generis? Stinky dumb mutant. Speak English, por favor!”

  “Let them hate, so long as they fear.”

  Romeo shook his head slowly. “I don’t hate you.”

  “Oh, but I hate you.”

  “Por qué?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Look, will you please bite me or whatever, and get this over with.” Romeo stretched out his arm in offering.

  Paris vanished, and Romeo heard only his voice echoing through the crypt.

  “You’re probably just as tainted as your brother, filthy miner.”

  Romeo shot back some choice words in Español. How dare Paris insult Mercutio. Mercutio had given everything to the Montague family, even his life. Romeo stood up slowly, gripping the stone platform where Juliet lay.

  “No, I have something else in mind for you,” Paris said.

  Romeo turned about slowly, trying to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. If Paris wasn’t going to bite him, Romeo wanted to be ready to defend himself. He took a few steps back, easing his hand around a shard of brittle coffin, and broke it off. Paris’s laugh in the darkness was unnerving. What was he up to?

  Out of nowhere, Paris leapt upon him, beating him down with an iron fist. The wooden shard dropped from Romeo’s hand as he grabbed Paris by the collar and nailed him back. Paris reeled. Romeo landed a kick in his knee.

  “Was that your plan? To kill me.” Romeo caught his breath.

  Paris wiped his lip, glancing at the cruor dripping from it. “Did you really think my grandfather would let you get away with what your family did to the Capulets?”

  “But I’ll serve them.”

  Paris got to his feet and launched himself at Romeo again. “You’ll have nothing to do with them.”

  Romeo grabbed Paris’s sleeve, and flung him away. He dove for the shard of wood, and rounded. “For the record, I never hated the Capulets. I respected them. This whole thing started with Tybalt attacking mia familia. I never hurt anyone.”

  “You had no right to Juliet,” Paris snarled.

  “She had a right to choose.”

  “She chose wrong!”

  Romeo ducked out of the way of Paris’s grasp. “You don’t get to choose who you love. God puts people in our path for a reason.”

  Juliet taught Romeo sacrifice. He thought he knew it before, but not as Juliet had. She had everything, and at the same time, nothing. He was ready to lay down his life, to let go of everything he had. If he could get away from Paris, Romeo would still honor his vow.

  He growled in frustration when Paris disappeared again. Romeo gripped the wooden shard tighter, carefully monitoring his surroundings. In a flash of light, four Parises appeared, blocking the way out, the way further into the crypt, and flanking Romeo on both sides. Romeo blinked twice. How was it possible?

  “Do not speak to me of gods,” Paris snapped. “I don’t see yours saving you now.”

  Romeo squinted at the multiple versions of Paris, trying to figure out which was the real one. “Maybe there is a God, and maybe there isn’t. But if I die without faith, I die in vain.”

  He circled the center of the room carefully. One of them had to be the real Paris. He took a swing at the Paris by the darkest corner. The shard of wood swept right through, leaving only a whirl of air.

  Paris laughed. “Nice try.”

  Romeo dashed for the one beneath the arches leading deeper into the crypt. That Paris dissipated too.

  “Getting warmer.”

  It was either the one on the far side of the room by Tybalt’s remains, or the one in the doorway. Romeo crept toward the stairs, squinting against the sunlight. For a brief moment, the clouds shifted, shooting a ray of light through the phantom Paris like a mirage. Romeo saw a way out, and lurched through the illusion.

  Something grabbed Romeo’s ankle and ripped him back into the crypt. He lost his grip on the coffin shard, and smacked his jaw on the stairs, before staring into Paris’s enraged face.

  “It was me, don’t you see.” Paris pinned him to the floor with his knees. “Me!” He pounded Romeo’s nose. “I was fated for her, and you stole her away. I never had a chance.”

  “Solo soy yo.” Romeo sputtered blood. “I am just me. Ordinary.” He struggled against Paris’s hold, trying to free his shoulders. “You are extraordinario. Juliet only wanted an ordinary life. She didn’t want you.”

  Paris wasn’t listening, He grabbed Romeo’s hair, pulled his head, and jammed it against the ground. His fists flew against Romeo’s cheeks. The more he made Romeo bleed, the more frenzied Paris became. Romeo caught a glimpse of the hunger growing in his eyes.

  Romeo managed to break an arm free and sail his fist into Paris’s ribs. “If you’re going to kill me, kill me!”

  Paris roared, dug his fingers into Romeo’s face, and sank his teeth into his throat.

  Romeo yelled in agony, but something else seeped into him. Something that burned like a vaccination, but far far worse. Paris clamped down tighter. Romeo felt as though a giant in work boots stood on his neck. The pain and pressure was intense, until his throat seemed like it was slammed shut in a car. The feeling spread through to his head, to his shoulders.

  He had to get Paris off him. From the corner of Romeo’s gaze, he saw a large sliver left of a coffin board. He fought to reach for it. His fingers crawled over the dirty floor toward it. The piece was just out of grasp. Romeo grabbed Paris’s hair, trying to pull him away, but the fangs were stuck too deep. Romeo wanted to scream, but his throat was tying up. His fingers trembled, stretching for the wood. A cloud closed in around his vision.

  Aún no. Not yet.

  He had to hang on. He had to get that jagged wood. His shoulders felt so heavy, he wasn’t sure if he could keep moving. Paris snarled, pinning him back down like an animal. Romeo’s gaze shifted to Juliet above him. He felt so drained now, and his blood burned in his veins. Venom. It had to be venom.

  Romeo shut his eyes. There was no hope. His hand dropped.

  Paris finally sat up. Romeo barely heard him talking.

  “Grandfather. It’s done. Come and take him.”

  Romeo’s fingers finally closed around the wood. It took all of his might to speak. “Hey, muchacho, madera conseguida?”

  Paris glared at him. “Oh for goodness sake, man. Speak Engl—”

  Romeo slammed the stake into Paris’s heart, using all his will to drive it deeper. “Did you understand that?”

  Paris’s face went stark. His eyes widened, his mouth hung open. He reached for the stake, staring at the cruor oozing into his cupped grasp. He fell to the side.

  Romeo lay on his back, the world growing cold around him. “I don’t hate you, Paris.” He gasped for air. “I pity you.”

  CURSE OF THE EVERSLEEP

  Juliet waited with beating heart. The Eversleep’s hold on her would not allow movement or speech until the last of her cruor had thinned to a stream. When she began to wake, she pushed herself to move her fingers; a twitch, a shift, anything that would prove she was ready to begin anew.

  Her eyes opened, taking in light she wasn’t sure was supposed to be there. Had Romeo come? Had she missed him? She eased up onto her elbows to see the horror around her. Paris lay in the corner, with a wooden spike through his chest. Romeo had propped himself up against the stone table beneath her.

  “Romeo?” she whispered, even though it felt like she was trying to yell.

  “Hola,” was his softest response.

  Juliet guided her legs over the side and dropped beside him, gently turning his face toward her. He was bloody, black, and blue, swollen and broken. Spidery veins of glaring purple climbed his throat and face. “What happened to you?”

  He cracked a weak, toothy grin. “Mira
, Mami. I’m pretty.”

  Juliet laughed and choked up all at once. She hugged him close.

  “I got your letter. It said you were dead. So I came to see for myself,” he murmured.

  Juliet glanced to Paris. He must have intercepted the letter and changed it.

  “I was…” Romeo swallowed, trying to sit up a little taller. “Going to turn myself over to your family, to pay for your loss. But Paris…” he sputtered.

  Juliet pulled him onto her lap, stroked his hair, and kissed his brow. “Shhh…”

  “Lo siento, mi amore.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.” And as she stared at Paris’s body, she began to wonder what effect the Eversleep had taken. If it had truly worked. For if Paris was dead, and she was still alive, shouldn’t she be turning to ash? Juliet freckled Romeo with the softest kisses. And then, she knew it before he said it:

  “I think…” Romeo gazed into her eyes. “He poisoned me.”

  She felt it in her bones. Paris was never her true mate.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, even though it wasn’t. “It’s okay. I’m here. We’re together now.”

  Romeo caressed her cheek. He struggled to draw breath, sputtering, and gurgling. She watched his soul fade back from his eyes as they went glossy and blank. She grasped his hand tightly, holding it against her cheek for as long as she could. His body went limp, and a gray flake slipped from her skin. Then another. Then more.

  She’d never forget the way he looked at her the first time they met, or how he said he was more afraid of getting an angry look from her than facing her entire family. And the fact he believed he’d find a way for them to be together. He’d wait for her. Always.

  Romeo’s hand fell limply to the ground. What Juliet wouldn’t give to have her powers back now. To pause time for even a moment. For little by little, she was falling apart. Turning to a pile of ash beneath Romeo— her true love.

  WHEN LOVE DIES

  Escalus braced himself in the doorway to the crypt. “Paris?”