Perhaps their love was more powerful than she thought.
“Please turn and face each other,” Friar Laurence said as he picked up a large leather-bound book with bronze-foiled cursive letters engraved into the cover. He flipped to the middle and then held the volume steadily in front of him.
Juliet turned to Romeo, pressing the palms of her hands onto his so that she would not scratch him with her nails. She kept her gaze focused on the warmth in his brown eyes.
“We are gathered together here in the sight of God to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony,” Friar Laurence read, his strong, reverent voice carrying throughout the room.
Juliet smiled when she felt Romeo tracing letters out on her right palm.
The first was the letter F. The second, O.
“If either of you know of any reason why you may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, you must confess it.”
The third letter was R. The fourth, E.
“If you do not confess, then you both are not joined together by God, and your marriage will not be lawful.”
The fifth letter was V. The sixth, E. And the last was R.
Forever.
“Romeo Montague, will you take Juliet Capulet to be your wedded wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keeping only unto her, so long as you both shall live?” the friar asked.
Juliet gently squeezed Romeo’s hands when she heard him reply, “I will.”
The friar went on. “Juliet Capulet, will you take Romeo Montague to be your wedded husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keeping only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”
“I will,” she proclaimed, then giggled when Romeo winked at her.
“Romeo, you must repeat after me,” Friar Laurence said. “I, Romeo, take you, Juliet, as my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
As Romeo repeated this sacred vow, Juliet could not stop herself from fixating on the friar’s reference to death. A few days ago, she was considering suicide in order to avoid becoming a vampire. But now here she was, standing in front of a wonderful man, wanting desperately to live each and every day with him, regardless of whatever might happen to her body, mind, and soul.
Then in an instant, Juliet felt her stomach tie up in hundreds of tiny knots at the thought of Romeo dying. She knew it was twisted of her to be obsessing over such things at a magical time like this, but if she were being honest with herself, she had to accept the truth—immortal or not, she would not be able to go on without him.
“Now it is your turn, Juliet. Please repeat after me,” said the friar. “I, Juliet, take you, Romeo, as my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
Juliet composed herself and thought only of her love for Romeo. Then she repeated the vow with all of her conviction.
Friar Laurence leaned toward Romeo and asked, “Do you have any rings?”
Juliet watched as the twinkle in Romeo’s eyes dimmed significantly. Then he caressed her hands gently.
“I’m sorry, my sweet, but I forgot to get them,” he muttered in sheer embarrassment.
“That’s all right,” Juliet said softly. “Since we have to keep this marriage a secret, it’s probably best that we do not wear rings.”
Friar Laurence nodded in agreement. “You make a good point, Juliet.”
Romeo sighed in relief and mouthed the words “thank you” to her.
“Now will you both please bow your heads?” the friar asked.
Juliet’s heart swelled with blissfulness as she and Romeo heeded the friar’s request.
“Eternal God, may Romeo and Juliet keep the vow they made, and may ever hereafter remain in perfect love and peace together, and live according to your laws.”
Juliet was so anxious to lift her head and look into Romeo’s eyes again, but this time as his spouse. She could barely contain her glee.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” said the friar.
“Can we look up now?” Romeo asked all of a sudden.
Juliet laughed.
“Yes, please do,” Friar Laurence replied, closing his prayer book and grinning. “Romeo, you may kiss your bride.”
Juliet’s skin was ravaged by chills as Romeo trailed his hands up her arms and then down her back until he reached her waist. He stepped toward her and tilted his head up to accommodate Juliet’s new height. When she put her hands on Romeo’s shoulders, he pulled her very close to him so that their chests were lightly pressed together. Juliet leaned her face toward Romeo’s until their lips touched tenderly.
Romeo’s mouth was still as soft as tulip petals, but Juliet was quite alarmed that he no longer just tasted of sugar. This time, she swore she could somehow taste a hint of his Montague blood.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Romeo darted through the thick woods that surrounded the monastery, his boots flattening fallen autumn leaves as he ran. He ducked under looming tree branches and leaped over exposed, bulbous roots, laughing when he would occasionally trip and stumble.
Although his wedding day had been tinged with drama—he had certainly never expected his fiancée to start levitating before the ceremony—Romeo was brimming with vigor and exhilaration. The woman he loved so much had vowed to be his alone, and he had made that vow in return. All they had to do was wait for Juliet’s sixteenth birthday to pass—then he could help her escape from Capulet Castle and the world would be theirs to explore, together.
Romeo arrived at the outskirts of town just before twilight. The sky was dark indigo and gray clouds were scattered above him haphazardly. When he reached the cobblestone road that ran through the center of town, Romeo was panting, the cold air upon his cheeks making his skin raw. He was so overjoyed that he was afraid he’d have a terrible time hiding his secret wedding from Benvolio and Mercutio, who he was meeting at the village pub.
However, when Romeo saw that they were lingering outside the pub’s front door, holding large metal steins in their hands, his worry disappeared. His cousin and friend probably would be more interested in drinking with the locals than prying into Romeo’s personal life.
“Romeo, there you are!” Benvolio cried out, raising his stein in the air.
“Where have you been?” Mercutio asked. “We have been waiting for more than an hour.”
Romeo patted his friend on the back and smiled. “Sorry I’m late. I was helping Friar Laurence repair something at the monastery. What did I miss?”
“Well, we plan to break our last drinking record by three glasses of ale at least.” Benvolio smirked.
“That’s ambitious. I doubt I’ll be able to keep up with you.” Romeo chuckled.
“Actually, gentlemen, it seems our fun for the night is already over,” Mercutio grumbled while narrowing his eyes and looking over Romeo’s shoulder.
Benvolio angrily chucked his stein to the ground, the contents pouring out into the street and streaming along the mortar between the stones.
“Actually, Mercutio, I feel that the fun has only just begun,” he snarled.
Romeo was confused by this sudden change in their attitude—until he spun around and saw three humongous figures, dressed in all black, hovering over the ground not more than a few feet away. Their eyes were as red as Juliet’s when Romeo kissed her on Friar Laurence’s altar. Their sharp, pointy fangs were bared, an unmistakable indication that these vampires were ready to feed.
In the center of the trio was Tybalt, who snarled loudly as he floated toward Romeo. The vampire’s brow was slick with sweat, and strands of his hair were coming loose from the tie at the back of his neck.
As he closed in, Romeo heard the sou
nd of Mercutio drawing his sword from his sheath. He turned to his friend and shook his head, warning Mercutio not to do anything rash.
“Romeo Montague, you putrescent piece of scum,” Tybalt crowed, puffing his broad chest out and pointing at him accusingly. “We have a score to settle!”
Even though Tybalt was the most intimidating vampire Romeo had ever encountered, he tried not to flinch in front of him. Instead he decided to try to defuse the tension like he’d done at the Capulet ball. True, Tybalt had not found Romeo’s antics amusing then, but maybe now it might work.
“Yes, I suppose we do,” Romeo said cheerily. “Shall we go inside the pub and see who can drink the most without vomiting? It is a Montague score-settling tradition. Isn’t it, men?”
Both Benvolio and Mercutio just sneered at the enemy.
As for Tybalt, his mood was not lightened in the least. He craned his head back and let out an earsplitting wolflike howl that shattered a glass-plate window right behind Benvolio. Shards flew in every direction.
“I take it that is a no, then,” Romeo mumbled.
“You shamed me in front of my uncle and the prince of Wallachia, and you defiled my entire family by setting foot on Capulet soil!” Tybalt shoved Romeo to the ground. “Get up, weakling, so I can fight you to the death.”
“Charge after him, Romeo!” prompted Benvolio.
“Yes, show this bloodsucking ogre who the weakling really is,” Mercutio encouraged.
Romeo stood up and dusted himself off. He knew that he could not do anything in retaliation. Tybalt was Juliet’s cousin—harming him would mean hurting the woman Romeo adored. Also, the prince’s treaty stated that anyone who violated its conditions would be executed. Perhaps if Romeo reminded Tybalt of these harsh consequences, he might back off.
“Have all of you forgotten about the treaty? If we defy Radu’s law, we will face a death sentence,” Romeo said urgently. “That goes for vampires, too.”
“Tasting your blood in my mouth would be worth the punishment!” Tybalt shouted. He laughed and stuck out his large, veiny tongue while his cohorts snickered along with him.
The yelling must have carried in through the pub’s windows, because a crowd was beginning to gather in the streets. Romeo’s pulse raced as he saw several merchants and their customers circle around the feud. He had to ratchet down the tension here before it was too late.
“If you want to fight me, go ahead,” Romeo blurted out. “But I will not throw one punch, nor will I swipe at you with a sword. There won’t be much honor in that kind of kill, will there, Tybalt?”
The vampire considered Romeo’s words for a moment and then broke into a sinister grin, nodding at his two henchmen to stand aside.
“Have it your way, coward,” he grunted. “I will destroy you.”
Just as Tybalt was about to advance on Romeo, Mercutio dove in front of his friend, his long-sword drawn and his eyes filled with hatred.
“You demon bastard!” he shouted. “I accept your challenge on Romeo’s behalf!”
Romeo shoved Mercutio out of the way. “Stop this now. You don’t need to get involved.”
“We’ve been involved with these monsters for years, Cousin,” Benvolio said.
“That’s right. And surrendering to them is not an option, regardless of what the treaty says!” Mercutio exclaimed.
“Please, listen to me, friend. You don’t have to do this,” Romeo said, his voice wavering.
“You have never been on the battlefield.” Mercutio stormed in front of Tybalt, his sword raised. “Now let me skin this beast and add his hide to the Montague collection.”
Suddenly the vampire reeled his muscular arm back and thrust his large hand forward with all of his might, knocking Mercutio to the ground and slicing his cheek from his ear to his nose.
“I am going to eat you alive,” Tybalt barked.
“Leave him alone, Tybalt!” Romeo shouted.
Before Romeo could put up more of a protest, Benvolio grabbed him from behind and put him in a stranglehold. Then he dragged a flailing Romeo, who was trying desperately to break free, off to the side with the rest of the onlookers.
“I won’t allow you to ruin the Montague name,” Benvolio said through gritted teeth.
Romeo attempted to kick at Benvolio, but when he did, Benvolio applied more pressure to his throat.
“Let me go—right now!” Romeo ordered, his face turning bright pink.
When Benvolio refused to respond, Romeo had no choice but to fix his eyes on Mercutio and Tybalt, who were circling each other in the street.
With blood running down his face and neck, Mercutio held on to his long-sword with two steady hands, the sharp end of the blade shining in the moonlight. Tybalt’s arms were relaxed at his sides as he stared Mercutio down ruthlessly.
The vampire showed not one single ounce of fear, but Romeo was consumed by it. Like Benvolio had said, Romeo was considered too young to join in the family war against the Capulets. Watching them prepare for battle, Romeo struggled with the idea that at the end of this fight, someone would die.
And it would be his fault.
“Obliterate him, Mercutio!” Benvolio screamed.
This call to arms lit a fire in Mercutio, and with the loud bellow of a warrior, he charged at Tybalt with his sword raised above his head. Mercutio swiped at Tybalt with the speed of lightning, but Tybalt quickly flew out of the way. Mercutio’s sword swung at Tybalt again, this time in an upward motion, which caught Tybalt off guard. Even so, Tybalt was too nimble, somersaulting backward like an acrobat. There were three more lashes from Mercutio’s sword, none of them coming in contact with the vampire.
“Stop, Mercutio!” Romeo cried out as he took a large step back with his left leg. Using his center of gravity, he flipped Benvolio over his shoulder and broke away from his cousin’s grasp.
Tybalt zoomed toward Mercutio just as Romeo broke through the crowd.
“Enough, Tybalt!” Romeo said as he came between Mercutio and their enemy.
“Get out of the way, Romeo,” Mercutio urged, trying to see what his opponent was up to.
Tybalt’s long cape flowed behind him like a shimmering beacon in the darkness. In less than a second, he soared over Romeo and landed behind Mercutio in time to dig deep into Mercutio’s throat with his claws.
Romeo watched in horror as his friend gasped for air and blood seeped out of his mouth.
Mercutio dropped his sword to the ground. “Why, Romeo? Why did you come between us?”
“I—I just wanted to help,” Romeo stammered.
“You should have left this alone,” Mercutio choked.
“I’m so sorry, friend,” Romeo said.
Mercutio took one final breath, and whispered his last words into Romeo’s ear. “A plague on both your houses.”
Then Tybalt snapped Mercutio’s neck and crushed his windpipe in one fluid, masterful movement.
“No!” Romeo shrieked as Mercutio’s eyes froze open. Amid a hundred horrified gasps, Tybalt pulled Mercutio’s body away from Romeo and sank his teeth into Mercutio’s jugular, sucking his prey’s blood out, drop by drop.
Fueled by unbearable grief and anger, Romeo found a way to channel a brute power within himself and rip the vampire away from Mercutio’s lifeless body.
Tybalt reeled backward, but managed to retain his balance. Mercutio’s legs caved in underneath him, and Romeo tried to catch him by the arms. But Mercutio’s weight was too much for him, so both of them toppled onto the cobblestone road. A distraught Romeo looked up at Tybalt, who was grinning at the gruesome scene before him.
“I had forgotten how delicious a feast like this can be,” Tybalt said, licking his fingers. “I will remember to thank Mercutio when I see him in hell.”
Romeo felt his skin turn hot like burning coals. Gone from his mind were thoughts of the treaty and the threat of execution and even Juliet’s feelings. The rage building inside of him was explosive, and instead of trying to defuse it—as Rome
o always had done—he surrendered to it, heart and soul.
Once he laid Mercutio on his back, Romeo shot up and faced Tybalt’s blazing stare.
“You will be seeing my friend much sooner than you think,” he threatened.
“Romeo! Take this!” yelled Benvolio, who had picked up Mercutio’s long-sword. He tossed it in the air and Romeo caught the bronze handle with one hand.
Tybalt shook his head, chuckling. “You are no match for me.”
“Why don’t you come closer and find out for yourself?” Romeo taunted.
As Tybalt sized him up, Romeo begged the masters of providence to bless him. He laced his fingers around the sword’s handle tightly, took a deep breath, and then waited for Tybalt to make the first move. If he watched his opponent carefully, he might be able to find a weak spot in his fighting technique.
“I said come closer, you dumb jackass!” he screamed, hoping to bait Tybalt with insults.
Romeo got precisely what he asked for. Instantly, Tybalt was careening toward him, his nostrils flaring. Romeo stood his ground. As soon as Tybalt was in range, he swept the sword forcefully in a lateral direction, the low end of the blade catching Tybalt on the hip.
“That was barely a scratch,” he growled at Romeo as he took his knee and drove it into Romeo’s gut.
Romeo coughed and blew out a few quick breaths, then Tybalt’s elbow throttled down from above and jammed him right in the back. Romeo stumbled forward a few steps, but did not fall.
“You can do it, Cousin!” he heard Benvolio cheer.
Romeo regained his stature, but before he could reposition his long-sword, Tybalt was upon him once more. The vampire spun around in the air, leveling Romeo with a gargantuan kick to the skull.
Romeo’s legs wobbled and suddenly he was flat on his back. Although he held on to the sword, he had taken such a wallop that he was momentarily blinded. It was as though God had extinguished all the stars in the universe and the world was covered in blackness.
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