Juliet Immortal (25 page)

He puts his lips against my ear, whispering his next promise directly into my brain. “I know you’ve found seven hundred years without physical feeling to be a great misery. How pleasantly do you think a few
million
years such as that will pass? When you are a phantom and no one can hear you scream?”

His fingers bite into my skin once more. Pain and more pain—hot and pitiless—and then the smell comes. The smell of Nancy’s death, of her body’s waste clinging to her filthy dress, the smell of her blood on the stones near my feet. I scream and gag, empty stomach heaving. “You wanted your senses returned so badly, Montague. Enjoy them. You’ll miss this when you are one of the spirits of the damned.”

He shoves my face into the blood on the floor. There will be no escape, no good choices, no mercy or pity. Not for me, not for her, not for anyone.

Somewhere deep inside me, the spark of hope dies, howling like a child left alone in the dark.

T
he afternoon fades to evening and the storm grows teeth and snarls outside the door, dimming the gray light in the barn. Ben and I climb into the hayloft, make a bed of straw and the dry sides of our jackets, and lie down. And then we hold each other, whispering in the benevolent darkness.

He tells me about his childhood, about all the things he’s painted and wants to paint, about the weird odd jobs he’s worked to raise money for art supplies. He tells me about his brother and sister-in-law and his niece, who does dinosaur impressions that make everyone laugh. He tells me about his mother, how she loved him and his brother so fiercely, how he cared for her the way a parent cares for a child before she
died, how there was never time to study and he fell behind in school.

He tells me how angry he was with his brother for staying away when she was at her worst, and, after his mother died, how his anger kept him living in a cramped apartment with cousins he knew were dangerous, despite his brother’s insistence that he and Marianne wanted Ben to live with them.

I am more vague, telling him things I wish for, things I believe in, simple joys and everyday doubts and fears.

And finally, as the night turns colder and the darkness complete, I hug him close and whisper the question I’ve been turning over in my head for hours. “How far would you go? To save someone? To save yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“Would you … take things into your own hands? If you knew it was the only way to save the person you love?”

He stiffens, the muscles beneath my cheek tightening. “Listen, I know … I probably looked scary today, but I swear it won’t happen again. I just went crazy when I saw Dylan with his fist in your hair. I lost it, but I don’t normally—”

“No, Ben, that’s not—”

“The counseling group the court made me go to is over in a couple of weeks, and I don’t want to stay in a group with Gemma,” he says. “But I’m going to keep seeing another counselor. My brother thinks I should. At first I thought it was a stupid idea, but he’s right. I’m still angry. At a lot of people. And I’ve got to get that under control so I don’t do what I did today unless I really, really have to.”

“I know. I’m not worried about you.” I find his hand in the dark and squeeze. “I’m worried about … I’m worried Dylan won’t stop until he hurts someone.”

“He’ll stop,” Ben says, with the assurance of someone who doesn’t understand the relentlessness of true evil. “We’ll tell my brother what happened and you can get a restraining order. I’ll get one too. We’ll make sure Dylan can’t walk within fifty feet of either of us.”

“I don’t think a restraining order will be enough. He needs to … go away. Forever.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he asks, voice careful.

“He’s not going to stop until someone is hurt,” I say. “Maybe even dead. Trust me, the world will be a safer place without Dylan Stroud.”

“Is that why you have a paint knife in your pocket?”

“How did you—”

“Is it?”

I hesitate. “Maybe.”

“Mermaid. You are …”

“Crazy?”

“The
persona más temerosa—
the fiercest person I’ve ever met.” His hand grips mine tighter. “I get what you’re saying, and why you’re afraid, but I promise you he’s not worth it. Even thinking about something like that … It won’t make the world better. It’ll only make you worse. Believe me.”

I shiver but don’t pull my cheek from his chest. There’s something in his voice, something that reminds me of the way he promised he was good at keeping secrets. “How do you know?”

It’s his turn to hesitate. “I’ve never told anyone.”

“I’m not anyone.”

“No, you’re not,” he whispers, the love in his voice tearing me apart and putting me back together at the same time.

“So tell me.”

“I … My brother …” He hugs me and sighs. “Remember I told you about that cigarette burn I got when I was a kid?”

“Yes.”

“My stepdad, Ray, did that. One afternoon my mom was working late and I was running through the house. I crashed into the table near his chair. The ashtray was overflowing and when it fell it made a big mess. Ray got so angry, so fast, and he just … did it. Without even thinking. Just jabbed it at my arm.” He pauses. “I actually think he felt bad after, when I started crying, but …”

I don’t say anything, just hold him and listen. There’s nothing to say that hasn’t been said a thousand times before, nothing that can come close to expressing how sorry I am.

“Victor was there and saw him do it. I was only five. Victor was eleven. He pulled me away from Ray, ran to the bathroom, and locked us inside. Ray banged on the door and yelled at us for a while—about how we’d better not tell Mom what happened and how it was my fault and on and on. We sat in there for hours, with my arm under the cold water, trying not to listen.”

Ben’s muscles bunch ever tighter. “He eventually got drunk and passed out in his chair. Victor peeked out and made sure Ray was asleep. Then he left the bathroom and went into Ray’s closet and got his shotgun. He had it loaded and aimed at Ray’s head before I understood what he was going to do.”

I hold him tighter, wishing I could erase all this pain from his past, give him back the innocence he lost when he wasn’t much more than a baby.

“I started crying and ran over and pushed him. I got there just before the gun went off. The bullet shot into the kitchen
and destroyed our microwave. No more corn dogs, not for almost a year,” he says, a note of finality in his tone that leaves me reluctant to ask what happened next.

How did his family get through that? What did his stepfather do to his brother? What did his mother say when she got home? How long were they forced to live with that monster? Had their mother known what a dangerous person she’d set loose in her sons’ lives?

But I don’t ask any of those questions. This is Ben’s story and he’ll tell it his way.

“My mom divorced Ray and didn’t really date anyone after that. Even though she was a total babe when she was young. I mean, obviously I got these looks from somewhere,” he says, and I can tell he’s smiling. “But Victor was never the same. It was like … even though he didn’t shoot Ray, a part of him did. He knew he shouldn’t have picked up that gun and he never forgave himself for it.” He shrugs. “I think that’s why he became a cop. It’s some kind of a test or something. To see if he can carry that gun and only use it if he really has to.”

We’re silent for a long time, listening to the rain pounding on the roof, the wind whipping through the spaces in the wood planks, and the thunder rolling on to destinations farther south. I want to lift my head from his chest and find his mouth with mine, to let him know how much his trust means with a kiss.

But touching Ben anymore is dangerous. Instead, I say the truest thing I can think of. “I love you.”

He laughs beneath his breath. “I like that a lot better than ‘sorry.’ ”

“Me too.” His hand smoothes my back, up and down, slower and slower until I can tell he’s getting close to sleep. “Ben?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for telling me. It helped.”

“You could never hurt anyone anyway, Mermaid.” His lips find my forehead, kissing me softly. “Even if you wanted to.”

Maybe he’s right. I’m not sure I
can
kill Romeo. I’ve never been able to damage him without feeling horrified by what I’ve done, let alone do anything more serious. But even if I could, I shouldn’t. Ben is right. Nurse is right. Taking a life is an act of darkness, no matter how foul the person, no matter how many awful things he’s done. Even if the Ambassadors are a lie, that is a truth I will cling to.

I’ll just have to find some other way to deal with the threat Romeo poses.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” I whisper into Ben’s neck. “Promise me you won’t be alone with Gemma or Dylan ever again. Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

Ben is quiet for a long moment before his breath snuffles out through his crooked nose. He’s asleep. And he snores. Just a little. I smile, treasuring this new thing I’ve learned about the boy I love, praying I’ll be able to learn more. Learn it all.

Maybe I can work out a bargain with Romeo, persuade him that he has to leave this town—or better yet, the state of California—as soon as the spell is complete. Surely he’ll see there’s no point in staying with me. I don’t love him. I never will.

Then you’ll never reclaim a body of your own
.

Right. Romeo insists that the spell requires love, and the
specters’ words seem to confirm his claim. But maybe he’s wrong … maybe if I can get a closer look at this spell …

I hold tight to Ben, to hope, letting it warm me as the night grows colder and I finally fall asleep in his arms.

The lights come in the middle of the night. Bright lights and loud voices, calling Ben’s and Ariel’s names. My eyes fly open and I sit up, sending a scattering of hay floating into the air. “We’re up here! In the hayloft!” I yell, turning to wake Ben and finding him already sitting up beside me.

“That’s my brother’s voice,” he says.

I hear a woman cry “Thank god” and burst into tears and know Melanie is down there waiting for me as well. This isn’t going to be good. At all. I meet Ben’s eyes and he takes my hand, squeezing tight for a second, sending me strength I feel seep through my skin. A second later, we’re both hurrying toward the ladder. A man’s face appears at the top just before we reach it.

The relief in his expression hits me in the gut. This must be Victor, Ben’s brother. I had no idea he’d be so worried. I knew Melanie would be out of her mind, but Ben and I have been “missing” for less than a night. “We thought you two … we thought—” The man bows his head. I can see his throat working, fighting back tears.

“I’m sorry, Victor,” Ben says, going to his brother, putting a hand on his arm. “I swear, I didn’t mean to worry you. We got trapped out here and our cell phones weren’t working and—”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” He climbs the last few steps and pulls Ben into a hug. “I love you,
hermanito
. You know that, right?”

Ben’s eyes go wide. “You too, bro.”

“Are they okay? Is she really okay?” Melanie’s voice sounds from the ground below, so high and strained it drowns out the murmur of men’s shouts and the electronic fuzz of radios announcing that we’ve been found.

“They’re fine. Not a mark on them,” Victor calls over his shoulder. He pulls away from Ben and reaches a hand in my direction. “I’m Victor, Ben’s brother.”

“Ariel.”

“Marianne says I’m going to love you.”

“You will.” Ben smiles at me. I smile back, trying not to think about the fact that Victor will have to learn to love someone else if I have my way. At least a different body. But I can’t think about that right now. I have to get down there and make sure Melanie knows how sorry I am for worrying her.

“Let’s get out of here. It’s freezing,” Victor says. He starts toward the ladder but stops and turns back to us, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You two have to know something. I hate to tell you, but it’s going to be all over the news tomorrow. It’s the reason we were so worried.”

“What?” Ben asks, fear in his voice. “What happened?”

“Nancy Kjeldgaard was found about six hours ago. In the cemetery on the ridge outside of town. Looked like she’d been held there for a couple days before …”

As soon as the word
cemetery
is out of his mouth, I know. Romeo has done something. Something awful.

“Before what?” Ben asks.

“She was murdered.”

“Dios mio,”
Ben says. “Did you …”

“Yeah. I was there earlier, but I was worried about you, so they let me help with the search.” He clears his throat. “But it was brutal, and some people with experience say it looks like
a cult ritual, a ceremonial killing or something. Whoever did it is … I don’t want either of you leaving the house alone, or even
thinking
about hanging out in deserted places until these sick freaks are caught.”

Ben nods. I do too, my head bobbing up and down as I wait my turn to climb down the ladder and struggle to find a reason why.
Why
has Romeo killed an innocent old woman? Soul mates come in all shapes, sizes, and ages, but Nancy wasn’t one of our soul mates. I saw her myself, and her aura wasn’t glowing.

So why do this? Even Romeo doesn’t go out of his way to kidnap people or commit elaborate murders just for the hell of it. He’s killed before, but usually impulsively, people who happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I can’t imagine why he’d do something like this.

I push the dark worries away as I climb down into a barn full of three other policemen, a man in waders with a floodlight, and my borrowed mother. As soon as I step off the ladder, Melanie rushes me, pulling me into her arms.

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re okay.” She presses a firm kiss to my hair. “You’re okay, right? You’re—”

“I’m fine, Mom, and I’m so sorry,” I say before she can get another word in. “I found Ben and we started talking and by the time we looked outside the car was under and we weren’t getting any cell service and it wasn’t safe to walk home in the storm because of the lightning and—”