Juliet Immortal

by Stacey Jay

  “So you’ve been … there the entire time?” She nods and I grit my teeth. “Then why did you wait so long?” I ask, not bothering to hide my anger. “Why didn’t you—”

  “Gemma’s soul is still here. Inside this body. I can lull her to sleep and replace her memories with substitutions for a short amount of time, but I couldn’t risk interfering with her life until her aura was secure.”

  “It’s been secure for at least a day. Why didn’t—”

  “It wasn’t safe to reveal myself. Even to you.”

  “You could have found a way for us to be alone,” I say. “You had to see that I needed your help. At least to keep Gemma from running me over yesterday at the barn.”

  She looks down at the mud-streaked floor. “I apologize for that. I would have stopped her, but her thoughts didn’t give me warning. It wasn’t a premeditated action, just another destructive impulse she found difficult to control.”

  I can’t stop the breath that huffs from my lips. “Yeah. She’s full of them. Some soul mate.”

  “She is difficult.” Nurse shakes her head. “But I have to confess … you’ve been difficult at times as well, Juliet.”

  My mouth opens and closes twice before I can force out a word. “What?”

  “The magic created by your vows is coming to an end. I think it’s time for you to leave our service. I can take care of Gemma and Mike. Gemma’s love is sealed, and Romeo’s sudden change of heart put an end to her destructive relationship with Dylan. From this point, it will be a small matter to rise within her and say the things Mike needs to hear to secure his commitment, to put them both beyond Mercenary reach.”

  “What? But—”

  “You haven’t performed as we’d hoped,” she says, only the barest hint of sadness in her tone. “It shouldn’t have taken this long.”

  “What shouldn’t have taken this long?” I snap. “And why would it be better for me to go? I’ve done a good job. I’ve done everything I promised I would do, even when I hated it. Even when I hated you for turning me into this thing that I am.”

  “Yes. Hate.” She sighs and crosses her arms, leaning against the scratched gray door to the stall. “That’s your problem.”

  “Oh, it is?” I bite the inside of my lip, pretty sure I haven’t been full of this much hate for quite a while.

  “It is.”

  “Here’s what I think,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even. “I think lies are your problem. I think you’re a liar. Romeo told me what you are, he—”

  She laughs, an acidic sound that reminds me more of Gemma than Nurse. “And we all know Romeo has never told a lie.”

  “Not about that. You are what he said you are. Aren’t you? You and the Mercenaries were—”

  “Yes, I am what I am. And the Mercenaries are what they are, and long ago we were brothers and sisters in hope and magic,” she says, as if this weren’t a revelation. “I would have told you those truths when you were ready. If you’d shown true dedication to your work.”

  I sputter for a moment, choking on my indignation. “I have worked tirelessly for over thirty shifts, I’ve—”

  “Exactly. You should have found your way so much sooner.”

  “What way?” I fight the urge to grab her shoulders and shake her until she stops speaking in riddles.

  “The heart of our magic is love, real love, not good works performed with bitterness and rage as their motivation.”

  I laugh my own nasty laugh. “So this is because I didn’t give you service with a smile? Is that it? So everything I’ve done has been for nothing?”

  “No, not for nothing. Your good works have sustained us—just as Romeo told you—and helped heal the world, but your freedom would have given so much more,” she says. “To our cause, to the world, to yourself.”

  “My freedom. How could I be free when you’ve—”

  “By finding your way to the peace and happiness you’ve longed for.”

  “Don’t you think I want that?” I ask, anger flooding out of me.

  “Not enough.” She puts a hand on my shoulder. “That girl you saw in the classroom shouldn’t be here. She’s a soul specter, created by fear and regret and hate. They come at the end for the Mercenaries’ converts, to haunt them with the evidence of their sins and finally escort them to the mist for all eternity. The appearance of Romeo’s corpse isn’t a surprise, but yours …”

  “But Romeo said the specters were creations of the universe, sent because we’ve disturbed the natural order, unbalanced some cosmic equation.”

  “He forgets that there are universes of our creation,” she says. “Where balance or imbalance is of our own making. But neither the universe within nor the universe without tolerates imbalance. He’s right about that.”

  I shiver. Another truth sprung from the mouth of the boy I hate. Hate. Is that why the specter urged me to love? Is there still a chance I can change my fate? “Can anything be done? If I try to forgive him, to … love him?”

  “Perhaps … but love and forgiveness have never been your strengths, Juliet.” She smooths a bit of hair from my face, as if that soft touch can take the sting from her words. “I don’t know what the future holds for you. I’ve only seen this happen once. The young man embraced his specter and vanished. Afterward, we searched the mist, but his soul was beyond our reach. If you touch the specter, or let her touch you … When she touches you, there will be nothing anyone can do.”

  I back away, suddenly suspicious of her confidence. “Romeo said we could reclaim those bodies. With a spell.”

  “You could.” One eyebrow lifts. “But would you want to live in that damaged body until the end of time? With Romeo forever by your side? That is what that particular magic entails.”

  I shake my head, sickened by how close I came to tying myself to the man I hate. Hate. There it is again. I do hate. Nurse is right. But I also love. I do. I’ve cared for the people I’ve helped through the ages, and now …

  Ben’s face drifts through my mind. His kind eyes, his lips whispering against my skin, promising everything will be all right. My eyes slide closed and pain shoots through my body, squeezing everything inside me in a vice of longing and regret. Ben is the antithesis of hate, but Ben is … impossible.

  “What about Ben?” I ask, though a part of me already knows the answer. “I love him.”

  “You do.”

  I open my eyes and find the hint of a smile on her lips.

  “Is it as wonderful as you remembered?”

  “It’s better. He’s better.” I search her face. “But how could this happen? I thought soul mates were rare. I thought each soul had one perfect match and—”

  “Love is not an isolated incident, Juliet. Love is everywhere. It always has been. You just have to choose to see the light in the darkness, the sun shining through the rain.”

  The rain that has been falling without ceasing, that creeps in through the roof and drips onto the tile all around us. My jaw clenches. Sometimes there is no sun. Sometimes there is no light.

  “Ariel is coming back.” I keep my eyes on Nurse, some stupid thing inside of me still searching for a reason to hold on. “She’ll be coming back into this body.”

  “She will. And she’ll be transformed by the love you’ve given her. It’s a good thing you’ve done, and if I could reward you for that and all the rest, I most certainly would. There are so many gifts I wish I could give you.”

  I suck in a breath and hold it, afraid I’ll scream if I let it out. This is it, then. There is no hope. I’ve been deemed unworthy of Nurse’s gifts, and Ben will be Ariel’s. And she will be transformed by love and they will be happy. I try to be happy for them, to see that goodness as the spark in the darkness, but there is no room in my heart for anything but pain.

  Maybe Nurse is right. Maybe I’m not good enough to be an Ambassador. Haven’t I always suspected? Haven’t I always known?

  My heart beats faster. “Can’t I keep trying? I haven’t fail
ed completely, I’ve done my—”

  “You’ve been a loving servant, but we won’t ask you to renew your vows. It would be unfair to you.”

  “Fair.” I laugh, but it comes out sounding more like a sob. When has life or death ever been fair? “So … where will I go? Back to the mist? Forever?”

  “I’m sorry,” Nurse whispers. “But you could still find your way. Don’t lose your faith.”

  Too late. It’s already lost. If I ever had it. The only thing I have faith in is Ben.

  “I need to make sure Ben’s okay. How do I make sure he’s safe before I go?”

  “I told you the day you became one of us. Hold love highest in your heart and all good things will follow.”

  I fight to keep my frustration in check. “Can you get more specific? Please?”

  “That isn’t our way.”

  “Why?”

  “We believe the only real truth is a truth discovered. Not told. But I will give you this. To help.” She reaches for me, twining her fingers through mine. The second our palms connect, images flash behind my eyes. It’s like the magic of those first few moments in a new body, when the particulars of a life come pouring in to fill up the empty places in my mind. But this time it’s my life I see.

  Or rather, my death. Through Nurse’s eyes.

  A trembling girl with blue lips, eyes rolling back in her head, half mad with thirst and the terror of being locked in the dark. The friar has his hands on her, pulling her out of the tomb. Nurse wants to go to her, but she can’t. It would be suicide. She can only watch. And wait for the chance she hopes will come.

  The girl is screaming, knocking away the flask of water at her lips. She’s seen him, the boy lying so still on the floor. The friar tells her that her husband took his own life so that he might join her in the afterlife.

  “Why didn’t you call out?” the friar asks. “Why didn’t you let him know you lived?”

  The girl is mad with grief, weeping despite the fact that her body can produce no tears. Three days in the tomb. Three days with no water. It’s no wonder she lost the strength to scream, but she finds new strength now. She reaches for the dagger in the boy’s belt and drives it into her own heart.

  Nurse presses her hands to her mouth, stifling her cry. The friar watches, a smile on his face, pleased with his deception, even more pleased when the boy rises and kneels by the girl’s dying body.

  “Juliet!” His hands cup her pale cheeks. “I didn’t think she— I-I’ve changed my mind. Bring her back. Bring her back!”

  The girl reaches for his face, running trembling fingers over his lips. Then she reaches for the knife. But she’s too weak to pull it from her chest. Her hands fall away. The boy clutches her body to him, weeping, but the friar pulls him away as the girl grows still on the floor.

  Nurse creeps from the darkness. She’s nearly too late. The girl will be dead soon. There isn’t time to tell the old stories, and she wouldn’t even if she could. She’s lived for thousands of years, sworn hundreds of souls into the service of the light. It’s always better if they don’t know some things, if they come to the real truths on their own.

  The girl repeats the vows, and Nurse watches her go to the mists of forgetting, wondering how long it will take for her to find her way to freedom, to understand the gift she’s been given.

  My fingers slip from hers, severing our connection. Somewhere deep inside me, where all the knotted pieces of my past tangle together, I find the thread she’s put in my hand. It feels familiar, true, despite the fact that I’ve spent every conscious day since my death denying what I did.

  Romeo didn’t kill me after all. I killed myself, just as the story said. I did this to myself. I’m not a victim; I’m a fool and as much of a liar as Nurse ever was.

  “Why?” I stumble away, until the backs of my knees hit the toilet. I collapse onto the seat, shaking too hard to bother trying to stand. “Why didn’t I remember?”

  “You didn’t want to remember,” Nurse says. “But now you do. Use this gift, and find your way.”

  A gift. It doesn’t feel like a gift. It feels like a curse, one last parting bit of misery. One more burden to carry. Speaking of burdens …

  “What can I do for Gemma and Mike? To make sure they’re safe before …”

  “Gemma’s relationship with Dylan did some damage, but Mike is closer to a commitment than you think. He and Gemma have similar demons, scars on their hearts that can only be mended by love. Gemma plans to tell Mike that she loves him tonight. That may be all it takes. Mike’s aura could burn red by morning.”

  “And if it does … then Romeo and I …”

  “You will remain in Ariel’s body until the soul specter claims you. Maybe a day, maybe two. And as for Romeo …” She shrugs. “His fate is in his hands. If he chooses to renew his vows, he’ll remain a Mercenary.”

  “Then let me renew my vows too. I can still fight him. I can keep going. I can—”

  She stops me with a hand in the air. “It has been decided.” It’s the second time I’ve heard those words today. They don’t sit any better this time around, but I don’t say a word as she turns to slip the latch on the door. There’s no point arguing. My fate is written in her impassive face. “If we don’t speak again, remember I will always hold you in my heart.”

  And then she leaves. And I stay in the bathroom until the bell rings. Ariel’s going to get an F on the dissection project, but at this point I can’t bring myself to care. There are too many bigger things at stake. Like lives.

  “Five minutes!” Mr. Stark calls out, snapping me back to the dreadful present.

  He’s making another breathless sweep through backstage, but stops to jab a finger in my direction. “Get ready, Ariel. You’re going on. Break a leg.”

  I wait until he’s passed by before reaching for the backstage door. Outside, a sickly orange light illuminates the concrete path leading around the building. Still no Gemma. Beyond, the night is dark and quiet. The rain has finally stopped—something everyone in town is celebrating—but the air seems more ominous for the stillness. The world is holding its breath, waiting to see if good or evil will win back the night.

  “She’s not coming,” Romeo whispers from behind me.

  I face him and nearly gag as I get a whiff of his stench. He reeks of death and disease, to the point that the rest of the cast has finally begun to notice. Everyone has given him a wide berth since he arrived, the few boys in the production hurrying to change into their costumes and leave him alone in the men’s dressing room.

  “My maker knows the truth,” Romeo says, leaning closer. I press my hand to my mouth and back away, until my shoulders hit the brick wall. “He knows Gemma’s not alone in that body. He lost her when she left campus after lunch, but he’ll hunt her down and end it. Tonight.”

  Oh god. If only Gemma were answering her phone, if there were some way to warn her before it’s too late. “Who is he? Where’s he hiding? You have to—”

  “Jason’s dead,” he says. “My maker killed him so he could have a body close to me.” Romeo smiles. “I don’t know why I never thought of that, killing for convenience. Suppose I’m not as diabolical as everyone believed.”

  Jason. I’m not surprised. Seems there’s a good reason he made my skin crawl.

  “It’s easier for the high ones to hide when the body’s freshly dead,” Romeo says. “I know you can’t see our auras, but they’re usually black. Black as sin, as inescapable as a shadow.” He reaches a hand toward me but stops when I flinch. “Yours was always golden. Until now.”

  Golden. Like Nancy’s. “Did he do it? Did he kill Nancy?”

  Romeo smiles. “Of course he killed her. And he will kill Gemma and that boy you love and you and me and the blood will never stop flowing,” he says, the sadness in his voice scaring me more than his delight ever has. Panic swims inside me.

  How to stop this? How to stop the Mercenaries when they feed on the very violence that seems the only thing
that can end them? Murder isn’t the answer. I believe that now. But what is? What?

  “They don’t seem to care as much about love anymore.” Romeo sighs and swipes his curled hair away from his forehead. “Not even enough to destroy it.”

  “Places, people!” Mr. Stark flashes the backstage lights three times, the sign that we should find our spots in the wings. I try to move past Romeo, but he steps in front of me, blocking my path.

  “It’s too late. We can’t work the spell.”

  “I wouldn’t. Even if we could.”

  He nods, slowly, thoughtfully. “I loved you,” he whispers. “I did. And I was sorry. I remember that I was, that I wanted to get up off the floor and tell you that—”

  “I know what I did.” I suddenly want him to know the truth, to understand that I’m not the same fool I’ve been for the past seven hundred years. “I know it’s my fault, that I did this to myself.”

  He shakes his head, fingers the scarf he’s insisted on wearing though it isn’t a part of his costume. “No. It was mine. I deceived you. I can remember the guilt. I can’t feel it anymore, but I remember.” His eyes are distant, his expression blunted by pain and fear. For the first time I feel pity for the monster.

  “What did they promise you?” I ask, wanting to know before it’s over.

  “They promised me your happiness.” He smiles, a vague, confused smile. “Eternal happiness and joy, more than I could ever give you. But as soon as I saw your face, I knew you’d never have it. Even if the Ambassadors hadn’t claimed you. I could see the truth in your eyes. You hated me too much to ever be happy.”

  No. That isn’t true. Something’s wrong with what he’s said. Something small but important.

  I close my eyes, letting the memory of my last few moments of life drift through me, rubbing it between by fingers, trying to name the exact nature of the feelings that pulsed beneath my skin. Despair, pain, sorrow, and, yes, hate. There was hate there, but not for Romeo, not only for him …

  The realization strikes like a beam of light, making me blink. It isn’t Romeo I’ve hated for all these years—at least not entirely. It’s … myself.