by Stacey Jay
“Here. Look at this.” She lifts the easel in the corner and carefully spins it around. “I turn them to the wall when I’m not working, because I can’t stand to look at them too long until they’re finished, but …”
I know she’s still talking, but all I hear is the whooshing of blood in my ears. I stare into the boy’s face, mesmerized. She has captured him perfectly, from the dark, troubled eyes, to the strong nose and the particular olive of his skin. She even caught the scar above his brow, where his father’s sword came too close the first time he and the boy sparred in the yard.
How? How has this … How?
“Romeo?”
I flinch. She’s at my side, but I don’t remember seeing her move. “Where …” I try to keep my voice even. “How do you know this boy?”
“I don’t. He came to me while I was working. I painted him on a hill a few years ago.” She points to the painting that gave me chills the morning we went to the museum. There’s no doubt, then. It is me. On my hill. Incredible, unimaginable, but as real as this girl slipping her hand into mine. “I’ve been dreaming about him lately. So I decided to paint him.”
I shake my head. This is impossible.
Living in dead bodies and traveling to different realities and spending perfect days with a girl you shot in the head—that’s impossible. But you’ve done it. Magic made it possible.
“Love has its own magic,” I mumble beneath my breath. I said the same words to Juliet the first time I lived through this time, but I didn’t believe them. But maybe there is magic in the world that has nothing to do with Mercenaries or Ambassadors. Could this girl, could the way she feels …
The way I feel.
There’s no denying it now. No denying the way everything inside of me melts when she leans closer, when her arms slide around my waist and I am no longer alone.
“It’s you. Isn’t it?” she asks, palms smoothing up and down my back, her touch as perfect as it’s been since the first time she let me take her hand.
“It is. I don’t know how, but …” My chest aches, but not with fear or sadness. With hope. With love. I love her. I love her, and it is better than anything else I can remember. “You found me.”
“I’ll always find y—” Her last word is lost in my kiss. I hold her so tight, I can feel her heart race in perfect rhythm with mine, faster and faster until we fall onto her bed and her fingers find all the buttons and zips keeping us apart. And it is perfect and right. Because I love her. How I love her.
“I love you,” I murmur against her lips.
“I—”
I cover her mouth with my hand, whisper against my own knuckles while our noses brush. “Don’t. If you say it, I could be taken even sooner.” She might not need to say the words—the Ambassador has great magic, and ways of finding out the truth that don’t require speech—but there’s no reason to tempt fate. Not tonight. Tonight I want to be with her, to memorize every moment of our first and last and only night together.
She kisses my palm before peeling my fingers away. “But I do. And I will. Forever.”
“Forever,” I echo, and for the first time, I know that forever is a promise I can keep. I will love her forever, until the world crumbles and this memory is the only thing keeping me sane.
Our lips meet again, and the last of our clothes land on the bed, the chair in the corner, the floor.
And then there is nothing but the magic of her touch.
We talk late into the night—she tells me of her nightmares of the man I knew as Friar Lawrence, and I warn her never to trust him. I tell her about my life as a boy—more about my brother and my mother—and my afterlife as a Mercenary, before words give way to kisses and the whisper of cool hands on warm skin.
Her mother comes home around two in the morning, and we fall silent, lying on our backs in her bed, fingers threaded, legs entwined. I stare at the ceiling and replay every moment of the past few hours over and over, until I can’t help but roll over and press a kiss to her bare shoulder. She is so beautiful. Perfect. Mine.
No. Not mine. I am hers. I belong to her, this girl who has dreamed of me, pulled my lost face from the past and brought it to life. She’s saved me, made me a good man for the first time. And now I will save her. I know how to do it. The answer was always there, waiting for love to bring it to light.
Juliet’s nurse said I would be cast into the body in the cave if I failed her. I can only trust that that means I’ll stay in this reality, where Ariel is alive and in need of my protection. Come tomorrow night, when the Ambassador offers to administer the peacekeeper vows, I’ll refuse. I’ll go back to my wasted body, and spend the decades before I turn to dust protecting the girl I love.
I’ll stay far enough away that she’ll never see what I’ve become, but close enough to defend her against the Mercenaries who would harm her. I know their tricks, and in my soul specter I’ll be able to see their black auras. The instant one of them starts sniffing around my love, I’ll sever the bastard’s head from his body. I’ll surely be caught eventually, but until then, I’ll buy Ariel as much time—as much life—as I can.
I pull her closer. “If I can’t stay, know that I’ll be watching over you in whatever way I can,” I whisper into her hair. She lies heavy in my arms, finally close to sleep.
“You’re going to stay.”
“I’m going to try. But if I can’t …” I don’t want to speak the words aloud, but I have to. “Remember what you promised. Love someone else.”
“Could you love someone else?”
I pause. Could I? Loving someone else isn’t an option, and I can’t see any face but Ariel’s when I close my eyes. But that isn’t what she needs to hear.
“I’ve already loved someone else.”
“Do you love her now?”
“Not the way I love you.” I can’t lie. Not about that. The place in my memory where Juliet lives has changed. I feel for her, but nothing rises inside me when I think of Juliet’s pretty face, except guilt and regret.
“How is it different?”
“It was … selfish with Juliet. I spent a lot of time composing love poetry that I thought made me sound clever, and dwelling on how much our romance would hurt my father. When I was with her, I was always in the way. I couldn’t stop thinking about Romeo long enough to know Juliet. But with you …
“Even that first night, you surprised me, made me think and feel and …” I take a breath and let the words go, trying to trust the truth. “Yesterday was one of the best days I’ve ever had. But I still didn’t think what I felt was real. And then, today, it suddenly became so clear. I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anything else. I love you enough that I want you to love someone else when I’m gone.”
She sighs, a sweet, sad sigh that assures me I’ve said the right things. For once, the right things and the true things are the same. Maybe they always would have been with Ariel.
“But you’re not gone, and I can’t imagine feeling this way about anyone else.” She seals the words with a long kiss that sends fractures zigzagging through my heart. “Promise me you’ll try to stay.”
“I’ll do everything I can.”
“Me too.” Then she lays her head on my chest and falls asleep. Almost instantly, like a child without a care in the world. I lie still and listen to her breathe, try to memorize the feel of her ribs expanding as her breath comes in and out, the smell of her hair spreading out on the pillow next to mine. I don’t want to sleep, to lose a minute of this time with her, but my borrowed body is human, and exhaustion finally pulls at my mind. I’m half-asleep by the time I turn to the window, so close to oblivion that for a moment I think the face behind the glass is a dream.
But then she lifts one golden, glowing hand and crooks her finger, sending a jolt of power surging up my spine. I’m instantly buzzing awake, my heart pounding as my eyes home in on her eyes, not at all comforted by her pleased expression.
For almost a thousand years, Ambassador pleasu
re has been my pain.
I know this time will be no different.
EIGHTEEN
Romeo
If I could have feigned sleep and turned away, I would have, but the Ambassador’s magic calls to me, makes my blood itch in my veins. After only a moment, I slip my shoulder free, slide my leg from beneath Ariel’s, and ease off the bed. She mumbles in her sleep and curls tighter under the covers, but soon grows quiet. I take a moment, soaking in the sight of her, fighting the horrible feeling that this is the last time I will ever see her sleeping.
Maybe even the last time I’ll see her at all.
I steel myself as I walk to the window, determined not to let Juliet’s nurse know my secret until I’m certain my time is truly up. She won’t be happy when she learns I’m planning to refuse her offer. She said the shift of my allegiance would bring the Ambassadors great power. My decision to return to a rotted corpse rather than swear myself into her service is not going to go over well.
The thought makes it easier to return her smile as I raise the window, letting the smell of the spring night and her vanilla perfume drift into the room. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You truly have no shame.” Her gaze flicks down and back up again, reminding me that I’m as naked as the day Dylan was born.
I grin wider, propping my hands on my hips. “If you’re uncomfortable, I can put something on.”
She laughs beneath her breath. “I’m thousands and thousands of years old, Romeo. I remember a time when all humans went around without clothes.”
“That many thousands.” I tuck the information away for later. “I always thought you and the Mercenaries were younger. The legends say you were Greeks.”
“Legends evolve. They change to suit the needs and understanding of the people who listen to them.”
“Like lies.”
She tips her head, conceding the point. “I suppose.”
“So what lies are you here to tell me now?”
“Ambassadors don’t lie, Romeo. You know that.” She crosses her arms, cozy in her dark green sweater, the golden light still shining from her hands making her look like she’s huddled over a camp fire. “I’ve come to congratulate you. You’ve succeeded in record time. Ariel is in love. I felt the change in her spirit this afternoon, a dark weight being lifted.”
My heart drops. I knew it. I knew Ariel’s silence wouldn’t matter.
“Her heart is secure,” she continues. “She will never become a force for darkness. You can come with me now, and take your place among the Ambassadors.”
I step away from the window. “But I … I have to stay and protect her.”
“You know that’s impossible.” Her voice is gentle but firm.
“Nothing is impossible.”
“All right. Not impossible, but criminally unwise. If I were to allow you to stay in Dylan’s body, you and Dylan would both be dead within a few days. His life would be unnecessarily wasted.”
“You can’t know that. I might be able to escape them, outsmart them. I—”
“This isn’t up for discussion.” Her expression hardens. She’s done humoring me. “You must come with me. Now.”
“But I …” I look over my shoulder, gut twisting at the sight of Ariel curled under the covers. “I love her.”
“I know. I have to admit, this is quite a surprise. You’re an extraordinary creature, Romeo Montague. The change in you will make you an even more valuable asset to our cause.”
I turn back to her. “I’m not a creature or an asset. I’m a man, and this is what my face used to look like.” I point to the portrait in the corner, and watch a hint of unguarded emotion flicker in the Ambassador’s eyes. It’s only there for a moment, snapped away as quickly as a knife from a child’s hand, but I see it. She didn’t expect this. I don’t know whether to be encouraged or afraid. “Ariel painted that. Not from anything I told her but from what she saw in a dream. This is the second portrait. The first she finished years ago.” I pluck the painting from the wall and hold it up to the window. “It’s my old body, on the hill where I took my Mercenary vows.”
I watch her, waiting for her to see that this changes everything, but she only stares at me with that same calm, collected, slightly amused expression. It makes me want to strangle her more now than ever before. “How do you explain this?” I ask through gritted teeth.
She lifts one shoulder. “I can’t.”
“Aren’t you even going to try?”
“I don’t see any reason to. We’ve accomplished what needed to be done, and no one—human or immortal—has ever fully understood the magic of dreams.”
“Well, you might want to try,” I snap as I hang the painting back on the wall. “Because the friar has come to her in her dreams as well.”
“What?”
“The friar. He comes to her in her sleep.” I take cold satisfaction in the furrowing of her brow. Stupid Ambassador. But as gratifying as it is to shatter her smug assurance, it’s equally chilling. This woman is the only thing standing between Ariel and pure evil, and she’s woefully unprepared.
“He’s promised to forgive her and grant her the peace she’s been seeking,” I continue. “I warned her not to trust him, but I can’t say with any certainty that she’ll be safe from his influence. She suffers from these strange attacks. She believed she was mentally ill, but I held her when she was struck down today. She was full of Mercenary power. I don’t know how, but the souls of the Mercenary outcasts are able to enter her mind. Usually when she’s angry, but I’m sure the friar could arrange for the attacks to become more frequent.”
“I’m sure he could,” she says after a moment. “Once certain barriers are broken, many unusual things become possible.”
“What kind of barriers? Can they be rebuilt?”
“Not that I know of. People who are open to our magic have usually experienced significant trauma. The trauma erodes the natural barriers that keep the mind protected. Without those shields, humans are vulnerable to all types of invasion. The lost souls are only one of many things that might find their way into a delicate mind like Ariel’s. That’s why it was so important for you to—”
“Her mind isn’t delicate. It’s under attack,” I say, unable to hide my anger. “She’s being tormented by things she can’t even understand. She deserves—”
“Exactly. She can’t understand, and even if she could, it would be pointless to explain. There’s no way to give back what she’s lost. Her mind has opened a door that should have remained closed, and once some things are known, they cannot be unknown.” She casts a significant look in my direction, and then over my shoulder to where Ariel lies on the bed. “I’m sure you understand that. After this evening.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel guilty, you’ll fail,” I say. “Being with Ariel wasn’t a mistake. The only mistake would be leaving her undefended.”
“And how do you think you’ve acquired a conscience after all these years?” She curls her glowing hands over the sill and narrows her eyes, showing me a hint of the cruelty hidden beneath her beauty. Her expression accentuates the fine lines around her mouth, making me guess for the first time that her body’s age is closer to forty than thirty. “Because of magic I gave you. You are nothing better than you were before. Without my help, you would have never had the chance to care for this girl, let alone be outraged that she’s not being cared for as you see fit.”
“She’s not being cared for at all!” I grip the window, mimicking her battle stance. “When I leave, they will kill her. You say you’ll watch over her, but I don’t see that anything you can do will—”
“You’re right,” she says, shocking me into silence. “I wasn’t aware that the friar was coming to her in her dreams. I’m only able to touch the sleeping minds of my own converts. I didn’t realize such a deep connection was possible with a human untouched by our magic.”
“It is,” I assure her. “She described him perfectly.”
&n
bsp; She sighs. “If so, if he’s already entering her subconscious mind, then he’ll eventually—”
“Drive her mad,” I finish, blood chilling when she nods, confirming my fear.
“And the mad are incapable of real love. One must have possession of one’s mind to have possession of one’s heart,” she says.
“No …” I shake my head, refusing to believe I’ve understood her correctly. “That can’t be. We have to stop him. This can’t have been for nothing!”
“Shhh,” she warns when Ariel moans in her sleep before growing quiet once more. “This hasn’t been for nothing,” she whispers. “You have been brought to the light.”
“I … It’s not enough.” My entire body sags. It’s the moment by the tree all over again, when Juliet and Ben were at the friar’s mercy and there was no hope but to destroy them before he could. But I can’t destroy Ariel. Not even to save her from a fate worse than death. I love her too much. What’s more, I respect her. This is her life, and there are some decisions that no one should make for another person, no matter how noble their reasons for lifting their weapon.
The realization hits hard. Maybe the Ambassador is right. I know I didn’t do Juliet any favors by tricking her into killing herself the first time, but what if I was wrong to take her life under that tree as well? What if I wasn’t seeing clearly? What if there were possibilities for her future that I couldn’t comprehend?
Possibilities …
“Romeo and Juliet,” I say, suddenly reminded of the changes in this world. “The Shakespeare play has vanished. Juliet is a one-line obituary, and I’ve become a mention in a tourist brochure. They say I died in a church fire.”
The Ambassador doesn’t look terribly surprised—by the change of subject or my revelation. “This is a different reality. Many things will be changed.”
It’s what I suspected, but for some reason the explanation still doesn’t sit well. “Benjamin Luna is certainly changed. I saw him today. He isn’t the same boy.”
“As I said, choices made in the past will—”