Juliet Immortal (18 page)

“Because you’ve never talked to me before. Ever.”

“I’m sorry.” The falseness of the apology makes me want to punch him in the gut. “Did that hurt your feelings?”

“Not at all. I preferred it.”

He grins, seeming to take the insult as some form of flirtation. “Cool. We don’t have to talk. I just wanted to let you know that I’m
available
to you.”

“Available to me,” I repeat.

“I’m here to help meet your needs and achieve your goals,” he says. “Ben and Dylan are cool with sharing. And hey, I’m cool with that too.”

I shake my head, so repulsed I can’t think of how to respond.

“My parents aren’t home tonight. You could come over to my place after rehearsal and we—”

“Not if you were the last warm-blooded thing on the face of the earth.”

Jason’s laughter follows me down the street as I take off toward school. I grit my teeth, refusing to blink as the rain flicks at my eyes, refusing to look back over my shoulder or think any more about what Jason said. He’s a creep and a liar. There’s no way Ben would ever say anything to confirm a story like that. No way in hell. I don’t doubt Ben for second. I trust that he’s a good person with everything in me.

Just like you trusted that Romeo Montague would cherish you as his beloved bride
.

I break into a run, sprinting for campus.

No. It isn’t the same. I’ve only known Ben a few days, but he’s already proved himself ten times the person Romeo ever was. Romeo never worried about other people’s safety or wellbeing; he didn’t talk lovingly of his family, or know what it was like to live through pain and loss. Romeo never saw the strength in me, never looked close enough to realize I was more than a pretty young girl, that I was a person with hopes and dreams and thoughts in my head. And Romeo might have praised my loveliness with lyrical poetry, but he never made me feel as beautiful as Ben did when he said four simple words.

You matter to me
.

I rock to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, the rain soaking me through, shaking as the inescapable truth rises up to meet me. I’m in love. With Ben. Another boy I can never have. Truly
never
, not even if I’m wicked and selfish enough to try to take him. This isn’t my body, this isn’t my life, and soon I’ll be gone.

Loving him would be the worst thing I’ve ever done. Stupid, pointless, inexcus—

My cell phone trills in my backpack, a single upward scale I can barely hear over the rain. I jerk into motion, hurrying the last dozen feet to the school parking lot and ducking under the bus-stop awning at the southern edge. But when I pull the phone from my bag, it isn’t ringing. Instead, the screen glows blue with a message. It’s from Romeo. So much for my twenty-four hours …

But then I read what he’s written. And shiver.

Meet me backstage in fifteen minutes. If you see me before then, we are enemies, as always. Circumstances have changed. You are being watched
.

We are not alone. The one who made me is here
.

T
he second bell rings as I reach campus and the last of the students still plodding in from the parking lot quicken their steps down the path. I join them—just until I’ve passed Mr. Stark, who’s on morning duty—then cut to the right, slinking around the school office building, hunched over so the top of my head won’t be seen in the principal’s window. The ground is spongy and slick. It oozes beneath my feet, making sucking sounds each time it’s forced to release my boot.

By the time I creep around Building A and make my way to the back entrance of the theater, my sweater is sodden and my boots are covered in mud. I shake the damp off as best I can and reach for the door. It opens with a barely audible
groan. Inside, the theater is dark, except for the ghost light perched on the stage on the other side of the curtains. It penetrates the deep red velvet, casting the backstage in a hellish glow.

The heavy door clunks shut behind me, sealing me inside with the eerie light and the peculiarly still air of places that are usually filled with noise. Apprehension lifts the hairs on the back of my neck.

Squeezing the soggy strap of my backpack, I pad toward the dressing room, boots nearly silent on the paint-spattered floor. This afternoon Ben and I are supposed to paint over the mess we’ve made working on the flats, cover the floor with a fresh coat of black before the dress rehearsal tonight.

I wonder if he’ll show up, or if he’ll decide he’d rather not spend any more time with me.

I tug open the dressing room door but almost immediately close it again, letting it ease shut but for the barest inch. Someone is inside. The light is on, and I caught a flash of movement in the corner. I have no idea who—or what—is in there, but I don’t want to be seen. My meeting with Romeo will have to be relocated.

Unless Romeo has already arrived …

I peek through the crack in the door, angling my head until I can see the far corner of the room and the sink where I wash up after painting. His back is turned, his shoulders hunched as he scrubs something clean in the sink, but I recognize Ben the second I lay eyes on him. My gaze roams over his wild hair, the strong line of his back, his narrow hips hugged by paint-spattered jeans. My heart lurches and my mouth goes dry.

There he is, the boy I love, his aura still rosy, but not red.

Just looking at him makes my fingers ache to touch his face, to curl around his neck, to pull his lips to mine and tell him all my secrets in a kiss. I want to feel his arms around me, the comfort of his bones resting against mine. I want to look into his eyes and see that there is nothing in the world but the two of us and that is enough. That is … everything.

Everything
. Just like Romeo was before that last night, before he pulled me from the nightmare of my living tomb only to plunge a knife through the heart he’d sworn to treasure.

I shiver, fear soaking through my wet skin, chilling my core.

How can I
think
of loving someone again? How have I let this happen? Even if it weren’t forbidden, haven’t I learned my lesson? Haven’t I learned that love can’t be trusted, especially love like mine, love that burns away every last bit of sense in the fire of its devotion?

You can trust me
. Ben’s words whisper through my mind. Maybe I can. Maybe I can trust Ben—even if I can’t trust love—but it doesn’t matter. Ben can never,
ever
be mine.

My throat squeezes tight and the backs of my eyes flare with sudden heat. I step away, pulling the door softly closed as I go. I turn and creep through the near-darkness, the faint flare of crimson in the air a condemnation of my weakness, a confirmation of my sin-filled soul. I don’t deserve Ben’s trust or friendship. I am truly awful. I’ve put him and Gemma in unforgivable danger. I have to fix my mistake; I have to make his aura burn or spend eternity with guilt pressing down all around me.

I’m so focused on my shame, my regret, that I don’t realize I’m not alone until fingers clutch my arm, pulling me into
the narrow space between the curtains. Romeo’s hand comes down on my mouth, stifling the scream that would have slipped from my lips.

“Shh,” he hisses. “He could find us any second.” His face is far too close to mine, his breath hot in my ear. I catch the faint hint of something heady, metallic, something that reminds me of aged meat, but it isn’t something Romeo has eaten. The smell is coming from beneath his clothes, his flesh a steak that’s starting to spoil.

Forcing myself not to gag, I nod and turn my head, twisting from his grasp. I take a step back, breathing through my mouth, staring up into Romeo’s wide eyes. In the dim light they are great black circles, his pupils a disease that’s beginning to spread.

He is … 
not right
, even more so than usual. I have to get him out of here. I don’t want him anywhere near Ben in this condition—or any condition. My lips part, but he stops me with a trembling hand.

“There isn’t time,” he says, voice strained.

“But I—”

“He’s here. The one who made me. That’s why there aren’t any other Mercenaries in this town. They don’t linger when one of the high ones comes for a visit. He’s been hiding his aura from me with magic, but I saw it last night. I’m sure I did, and I think he knows.” He grips my arms, fingers squeezing, pressing the cold, wet fabric tight to my skin. “He’s watching, waiting for me to turn one of these children, ready to force me to kill you a second time and finally advance through the Mercenary ranks.”

“Who? How do you—”

“We can still escape, but time is short,” he says, oddly
breathless, as if he’s just finished running a great distance. “Soon our chance will have passed us by. We have to work the spell before it’s too late.”

I shake my head. “I don’t—”

“You can love me. You did before, you can again.” His eyes dart to the side and back to me, mouth trembling as if he can’t decide whether to laugh or cry. “We can go now. Immediately.”

I wince as his fingers dig deeper, regretting the decision to meet him more with every passing second. He’s finally lost what’s left of his mind. “Why don’t we go outside? I can’t see y—”

“It is not necessary that you see. It is necessary that you
take action
,” he says, shaking me once, as if that sharp motion will force my brain to make sense of his rambling. “What more do you need?”

I shrug him off, breaking his hold before he can shake me again. “I need you to make sense, or I’m going to leave.”

His clawed fingers fist in the air before falling to his side. He takes a deep breath, visibly forcing himself to calm down. “You’re right.” He crosses his arms, licks his lips. “You have to know everything about the spell. I’ll tell you, but you have to promise we’ll go right after. Promise.
Swear
it.” He reaches for me, but I lift a hand, warning him not to touch me again.

“I won’t promise anything until I understand what I’m promising.”

Romeo laughs, a hysterical sound that’s smothered by the curtains. “Like the first time? When you swore to serve a cause you
still
don’t understand seven hundred years later?”

I press my lips together, keenly aware of the passage of time. Ben will have to get to class soon. He seems to be skipping homeroom, but first period starts in twenty minutes. He’ll
pass right by these curtains on his way out. I have to be finished with Romeo before that happens. “Then educate me. Quickly, if time is so precious.”

“Not every Ambassador or Mercenary gets a chance like this, but we were once bound by love, a force that has its own magic,” he says. “If we love again, speak the words of the spell I’ve stolen, and seal our promises with blood—the way the Ambassadors and Mercenaries did thousands of years ago—then we can take their magic for ourselves. We can heal our souls, make real those spectral bodies, and live forever. All we have to do is love again, the way the specters have told us.”

“But why would they help us?” I ask, his words not ringing true. “If their purpose is to take us to the mist and end this imbalance you say was created, then—”

“I don’t think they want to do the job they were sent for,” he says. “I think they want us to claim them again, to make them—”

“But won’t magic like you’re proposing create more imbalance? Won’t we be in the same—”

“I don’t know, Juliet,” he snaps. “And I don’t
care
. Whatever awaits us after the spell can’t be worse than staying here, waiting for a monster to drag me to hell or a Mercenary to find out what I’ve been talking about with you and do worse.”

I bite my lip. The bell signaling the end of homeroom is about to ring, and I don’t intend to be in the theater when it does. “You said you’d give me a day to think.”

“There is no time to spare,” he says, voice rising. “I love you. Just love me in return, and let’s get on with it.” He tosses out the word as if it’s an ingredient in a recipe, as if he isn’t asking for the moon.

Love. Love
him
. It’s impossible. Even if this spell is our
only way out. Even if I risk my soul, betray my vows, and spill my blood, it’s impossible. I’m in love with Ben. “I can’t.”

“We’re soul mates,” he says. “We are forever. Our kind of love cannot be destroyed.”

“It can. It was. You destroyed it the day you bartered my life to the Mercenaries.”

“What was I supposed to do, Juliet?” he shouts, so loud I worry Ben will hear him through the door of the dressing room.

“Quiet!” I hiss. “I thought you said—”

“Please, tell me.” His voice drops to a harsh whisper. “What other option did I have?”

“What other option?” I clench my hands at my side, frustration making my arms vibrate. “You had a
hundred
other options, a thousand—”

“I was
banished
from the city, never to return upon penalty of death,” he says. “My father had disowned me and my new wife’s family were my mortal enemies. I was sixteen years old, with no money, no friends outside Verona, and no skills with which to earn a living. I was a rich man’s son. How was I to feed
myself
, let alone a wife and the inevitable children?
How
?”

I shake my head, refusing to try to understand his motives for the ultimate betrayal. Nothing can justify what he did.
Nothing
. “We could have found a way. We were young. We had our health and our minds and our love, we could have—”

“We would have starved to death,” his says. “We would have
died
in the streets or been murdered on the road by highwaymen for the jewels in your shoes before we reached Mantua.” He stops, looking at me, eyes filled with sadness. “You would have died cursing my name, cursing the day you met
me and the day I killed your cousin. You would have died poisoned with hate, and it would have destroyed my soul. And yours. I couldn’t bear the thought of it. I loved you too much. I swear that I did, that I
do
 … or at least, that I will again if you’ll give me the chance.”

My chest tightens, aches. It’s too easy to imagine the fate he describes, too horribly easy, but I’ll eat my own tongue before I’ll agree he had no other choice. If working for the Ambassadors has taught me anything, it’s that there’s always a choice between good and evil. “If that’s what you believed, then you should have left me.”