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ADAPTED FROM
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
BY CLAUDIA GABEL
Contents
Cover
Title Page
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOUTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
EPILOGUE
About the Author
EDITOR’S NOTE
Chapter One PLAYING PILGRIMS
Copyright
About The Publisher
PROLOGUE
TRANSYLVANIA, 1462
For the past six years, the Wallachian Province of Transylvania was ruled by Vlad the Impaler, a ruthless prince responsible for the deaths of forty thousand European people during his reign. Vladimir couldn’t have accomplished this horrific feat alone, of course. A special part of his constituency—a family of vampires known as the Capulets—helped him carry out this murderous rampage by feeding off “undesirables” one by one.
In exchange for their “work", the Capulets were given a large, imposing castle in the southern part of the Carpathian Mountains near the city of Transylvania and anything else their hearts desired. They enjoyed the benefits of being wealthy aristocrats by day, bloodsuckers by night—opulent clothes; priceless jewels; supernatural powers; and immortality. They owned most of the land in the area and had servants to tend to their every whim.
One might say that to be a Capulet was to be both envied and abhorred. However, if you were talking with a Montague, he would have told you that the Capulets were mercenaries of evil who had to be destroyed.
Blessed with a keen sense of intuition and vampire-slaying skills that could not be matched, the Montagues fought the Capulets at every opportunity to keep them from terrorizing the citizens of Transylvania. Their hope was to rid the world of these beasts, once and for all.
But recently the rules of war were changed. Prince Vladimir was ousted from the throne and imprisoned, leaving his half-brother Radu in power. Radu’s first act as prince was to institute a peace treaty in the region of Wallachia, thereby forcing the Montagues and the Capulets into a truce.
But could peace really exist between sworn enemies, especially when one was as bloodthirsty as the Capulet family?
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes, a pair of star-cross’d lovers were fated to find out.
Citizens of Transylvania,
With Vlad the Impaler imprisoned for his crimes against humanity, the era of his violence is officially over. A peace treaty has been reached between the new government and Vladimir’s mercenaries, the Capulets.
If any humans or vampires commit a violent act that results in the injury or death of another, their lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
Abiding by this simple, yet definitive law should lead to civility and tranquillity in our kingdom.
—Prince Radu
CHAPTER ONE
Juliet sat on her bed and stared at her reflection in an ornate gilded mirror, which she held close to her face. With her fingertip, she traced the outline of her rose-hued lips on the glass, repeating the same movement over the subtle slope of her nose and the smooth youthful brow above her indigo-coloured eyes.
She was not one to be vain. But in three days, the simple act of checking to see if a chestnut-coloured tendril had fallen loose from one of her hair combs would not be so simple. Truth be told, it wouldn’t even be possible, for Juliet’s reflection would cease to exist.
“Keep your chin up, my lady,” said a voice from behind her. “God knows it will improve your posture.”
Juliet felt her breath catch in her throat, surprised to hear that someone else was in her chambers. She set the mirror down on her lap and turned towards thedoor, where her beloved nursemaid stood, dressed in a white smock and holding a wooden brush in her hand.
Juliet sighed. Her nurse was here to help her prepare for a lavish ball that her parents were hosting this evening. However, Juliet would rather hide in her chambers for the night than play the role of dutiful daughter in a room full of vampires and strangers—especially since she was in such a sombre mood.
“I have more important things to be concerned about than my posture,” Juliet said as she rose from her bed, still clutching the ivory handle of her mirror.
She walked over to the leaded terrace window and gazed at the snowcapped mountains that lined the far reaches of Transylvania. As a child, she’d dreamed of leaving the castle and disappearing into the hills, where she’d befriend all the wild animals and live off berries. How foolish she had been.
“I suppose you are referring to your birthday.” The nurse strode across the room, her short, meaty legs pounding the marble floor. She stood behind Juliet and removed her mistress’s robe, quickly pulling it off both her arms. “Most girls look forward to turning sixteen. Or am I mistaken?”
Juliet closed her eyes, feeling the last ray of the setting sun tickle her skin through her thin cotton slip. Soon, exposure to direct sunlight would be the kiss of death for her.
“Most girls do not have to kill someone and drink every last drop of their blood in order to live a day past it,” she said.
The nurse circled in front of Juliet and glowered at her. “Well, there’s no sense in wishing for what is unattainable. Now sit back down so I can untangle that nest of hair before Lady Capulet comes to call. We cannot have her seeing you so unkempt.”
Juliet nodded and shuffled over to her bed, heeding the nurse’s command. She knew better than anyone how easy it was to be scared of Lady Capulet.
But there was one thing more frightening than the matriarch of the Capulet family: a surprise raid on the castle by the vampire-slaying Montagues. There had been three security breaches before—guerrilla attacks in retaliation for the brutal murders the Capulets had carried out at the hands of Vlad the Impaler.
In those dire hours, Juliet had always been fiercely protected, mostly by her older cousin Tybalt. But now she couldn’t help but wonder if she would’ve been better off as a casualty. Of course, being dead would free her from her troubles, but dying at the hands of the Montagues would only cause more destruction in Transylvania. The Capulets hated the Montagues with every fibre of their unbeating hearts, and would certainly seek vengeance at any cost. She couldn’t bear the thought of being responsible for anyone’s death, regardless of who they were.
Juliet let out a deep breath and tried to force these disconcerting thoughts from her mind. As the hairbrush’s soft bristles massaged her scalp, she recalled a more carefree time, when she used to love counting the brushstrokes and listening to her nurse sing happy folk songs while she worked. When the nurse’s own child died many years ago, she practically adopted Juliet, and Juliet felt she could trust her nurse with anything.
“Don’t you take any pity on me, Nurse?” she asked, her voice despondent and desperate for sympathy. “Or my soon-to-be-damned soul?”
Juliet heard no response as the brush kept moving through her hair. But then there was a pause, and Juliet felt the nurse’s lips press down on the crown of her head.
“I do, child,” the nurse replied tenderly. “When you have doubts, remember that I’ve been preparing my heart for this since you were born. It’s been a wretched task.”
A tear trickled down Juliet’s cheek, which she quickly wiped away. “Thank you, I will.”
The nurse wrapped her arms around Juliet and squeezed. “Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?”
“Yes, switch lives with me,” Juliet said with a small grin.
The nurse laughed into Juliet’s ear. “That is quite a favour to ask.”
“I know, but you cannot blame me for trying,” Juliet replied, her eyes smiling just a little.
Suddenly there was a knock at the chamber door and the nurse snapped to attention.
“I wasn’t expecting her ladyship for another hour or so,” she gasped. The nurse handed Juliet the brush, then raced over to the closet and opened it.
Juliet managed a girlish giggle. Unlike the other vampires who slept until nightfall, Lady Capulet’s eyes always popped open the moment twilight arrived. “Well, my mother does love to keep her human underlings on their toes.”
The nurse fetched Juliet’s robe, shaking her head with disapproval. “Nobody likes a young maiden with a sharp tongue.”
“I suppose it will go well with my new sharp teeth.”
Another knock sounded at the door—loud and demanding.
“Just mind yourself, please,” the nurse advised Juliet.
“Why should I? I have only a few days left of being human. I might as well enjoy myself,” she replied.
“Good heavens. Maybe you should keep your mouth shut altogether,” the nurse said as she smoothed back Juliet’s hair and tied it at the nape of her neck with a black satin ribbon. Then she took a deep breath, walked hastily towards the door, and opened it.
At the sight of Lady Capulet, Juliet shuddered asthough a gust of wind had blown by. The nurse bowed her head respectfully and said, “My lady.”
Without a word or acknowledgment of her daughter’s servant, Lady Capulet floated into the bedchamber, her dainty feet hovering a good six inches off the ground. She was dressed in a long ebony gown, and folded her hands delicately in front of her chest as she gracefully levitated across the room. Her pale yellow skin was utterly flawless and her raven-coloured hair was pulled back tightly in an ornate bun so that her glowing red irises were impossible to ignore.
There were no vampires more beautiful, nor imposing, than Lady Capulet. Juliet could barely blink in her mother’s presence—she was that captivating—and until today, Juliet hadn’t noticed their resemblance. With her transition from human to vampire to come in three days, there was no way she could deny it now.
“Nurse, leave us. I must speak with my daughter in private,” Lady Capulet said firmly.
Juliet’s heart fluttered with dismay. She did not want to lose the support of her most precious ally.
“As you wish,” the nurse replied, bowing her head again and closing the door behind her.
Juliet swallowed hard, hoping something cheerful, like a chirping bird outside her window, would break the uncomfortable silence.
Lady Capulet glided over to the nightstand near Juliet’s bed and held her hand over the top of a copper
oil lamp. A flickering flame suddenly appeared, showering Juliet’s face with a light golden sheen. While all female vampires had some degree of conjuring powers, Lady Capulet’s skills were far above the rest.
“Come, let me see you,” Lady Capulet said, staring deep into Juliet’s eyes and running a long, sharp fingernail down her daughter’s cheek.
Juliet willed herself not to shed any more tears. Lady Capulet did not tolerate babyish behaviour.
“Your colour is already beginning to change,” Lady Capulet said with a proud expression on her face. “Can you tell?”
“I haven’t thought to look, Mother,” Juliet lied, and glanced away.
The first sign of transformation had begun last night—her healthy, pink skin tone was gradually turning pale. Soon her eyes would start to alter in colour—from ice blue to glowing scarlet—and her fingernails would grow long and sharp. The ability to levitate and smell blood would follow, as well as the loss of her reflection and shadow.
But there was one symptom of the transition that was so excruciating, even a vampire as strong as her cousin Tybalt had difficulty handling it—a ravenous hunger that would gnaw mercilessly at her insides, until she performed her initiation rite before midnight on her sixteenth birthday.
The only way for Juliet to stop the transformationwas to refuse initiation, which she desperately wanted to do. The ritual was the final step to becoming a full-fledged vampire, and known only to those within the vampire community. Juliet would have to hunt down a human and kill him—all by herself, and without the help of any accomplice. Then she must ingest every ounce of her victim’s blood until his corpse was nothing but a dry, shrivelled shell. But as abhorrent as the initiation ritual was to Juliet, resisting it would lead to starvation and death. Juliet wasn’t sure she had the stomach for that kind of intense suffering.
Lady Capulet quickly became stern, dropping her hand over the lamp’s flame and extinguishing it. “Are you still trying to pretend that your destiny as a vampire does not await you? That will not do you any good.”
“And what should I do?” The anger in Juliet’s voice was unmistakable. “Embrace a fate that will rid me of my humanity and morality? A fate that will force me to feed off the blood of man, or else dig myself an early grave?”
“Juliet, your theatrics are both tiring and tedious,” said Lady Capulet. “I transitioned on my sixteenth birthday without an ounce of reluctance. And so did your father, and his father before him. All your hand-wringing is a great disrespect to your lineage.”
Juliet lay down on her bed, turning so that her back was to Lady Capulet. “At least we can agree on
this—we are both ashamed of each other.”
The room went eerily quiet and Juliet’s stomach churned. She knew what she had said was horrible, but she was so eager to convince her mother that her family’s lifestyle was, in a word, depraved. At this point, Juliet would say anything to make Lady Capulet realize that feeding on humans was wrong—even if that meant provoking a fight.
“Shame?” Lady Capulet’s voice was loud enough to rattle all the glass in the room. Juliet covered her ears with her hands. “Are we not here, living in this splendid castle like royalty? Are we not the most powerful force in Transylvania, despite the cruel acts of lowly poachers like the Montagues?”
Juliet could feel herself coming undone, so she steeled herself and pretended her nurse was by her side.
“My aim is not to be ungrateful, Mother. It is to be truthful,” Juliet said. “And the truth is that some see the Montagues as vigilantes, and think their actions are justified.”
“Do you share the same sentiment?” Her mother’s stare practically took Juliet’s breath away.
“I do not know how you can live with the blood of thousands on your hands,” Juliet replied after a moment of awkward silence.
“It is easy when you have orders to kill,” Lady Capulet said, smoothing a few stray hairs back withher palms. “But now the peace treaty is threatening our human blood supply, which means we are more vulnerable than we have ever been before.”
“Vulnerable or not, I don’t think I can go through with the initiation. I am sorry to let you down, Mother,” Juliet said.
Lady Capulet floated around Juliet’s covered four-poster bed, then settled in a high-backed armchair so she could look Juliet in the eyes.
“Even in death, my child, you will be a member of the Capulet family.” Juliet’s mother extended her hand into the air and a brown paper envelope materialized above it. “So before you decide to starve yourself, why don’t you carefully consider the alternatives?”
Juliet sat up slowly, reached above her head, and took the envelope in her hand. After loosening the wax seal on the back of it with her thumb, she began to read the wrinkled parchment that was enclosed as Lady Capulet floated out of the room and closed the door behind her.
Dear Juliet,
Your lord and ladyship have shared with me that soon you will become a full member of the vampire race. I would like to extend my heartfelt congratulations to you. All the special powers you have yet to possess will serve you well and you will take great joy in them. And though you feel conflicted about your initiation rite, I know you will eventually come to understand that immortality is a treasure worth killing for.
It must seem odd receiving such an intimate letter from a stranger, but I am pleased to inform you that I will be attending the Capulet ball. Some find my nature to be plain, but my reputation in our ranks is highly esteemed. In any case, I am very anxious to meet you.
With noble intentions, Count Paris
Juliet crumpled up the letter and held it tightly in both her hands. She knew other maidens her age had received notes like this before and wound up married to strangers their parents had picked out for them.
Juliet’s skin prickled with nervous chills just thinking of it, so she pulled the covers up to her chin, gripping the fabric tightly with her fingers. If her mother thought that a romance—especially one that was prearranged—would rid Juliet of her depression, she was sorely mistaken.
CHAPTER TWO
At the bottom of the steep, rocky hill upon which Capulet Castle was erected stood the Montague family arsenal. Built as large as a fortress with Gothic architecture as beautiful as any cathedral, no structure in Transylvania was as intimidating or awe-inspiring. With the dreaded Prince Vladimir now imprisoned for his heinous crimes, and Vlad’s half-brother Radu proclaiming this a new era of “peace", the Montagues had been ordered to close their arsenal.
However, despite Prince Radu’s hope for harmony and order, the Montagues continued to store and maintain a considerable amount of weaponry—battle-axes, wooden pikes, broadswords, quarterstaffs, and the like—in case of a vampire crisis. Needless to say, most of the Montagues did not believe that the Capulets were capable of honouring a long-term truce. In their opinion, the vampires were an evil plague on humanity, and the only way to stop them was by stamping them out, one by one.
On the night of the Capulet ball, Romeo Montague—the youngest gentleman of the brood—sat in his family’s draughty arsenal, sharpening his father’s parrying daggers and misericord knives with his older cousin Benvolio and his dear friend Mercutio. Romeo had been working on one knife for the last ten minutes, his sand-coloured hair flopping over his brown eyes and his mind totally lost in a daydream. This is what set him apart from the rest of the Montagues—fighting vampires wasn’t the only thing he thought about.
“If you do not keep your attention on your blade there, Romeo, you will have one less finger with which to tie your bootlaces,” Benvolio said, grinning.
Romeo drew his gaze back from a dripping leak in one of the stone walls, returning it to the knife sharpener in his hands. “That would probably hurt less than this broken heart of mine.”
Mercutio groaned as he examined a well-used crossbow. “My God, Romeo. Are you still lamenting over that grizzly beast Rosaline Capulet?”
Recently Romeo had become obsessed with a fair and lovely maiden named Rosaline. On several occasions, he had tried to talk to her, but she just ignored him. It had really hurt his feelings.
“Of course he is, Mercutio! Those half-breed females are quite enticing,” Benvolio said in reply. “I heard from Raulfe the blacksmith that they smell just like bacon.”
Romeo slammed the knife and sharpener down on a worktable so that they made a loud clanging sound.
“You are two of the most ignorant bastards in Transylvania,” he said.
“And handsome, too,” Mercutio joked.
Romeo was unable to prevent himself from smirking. “The only one who thinks so is your mother.”
“What are you implying? That my mother has bad taste?” Mercutio said, apparently offended.
“If you ask me, Romeo, you are the one whose taste is laughable,” Benvolio added.
“Is that so?” Romeo could feel his pulse rising. He had a short temper when his cousin and friend made fun of him, which unfortunately was quite often.
“Yes, a half-breed Capulet is not worthy of anything but scorn and suspicion.” Benvolio picked up a long-sword and ran a gloved finger over the silver blade, making sure it was sharp.
“Rosaline is a human being, not a half-breed,” Romeo stated firmly.
“Just for now,” Mercutio corrected. “Next year at this time, she will become a vampire. And what will you do then? Watch as she eats live goats?”
Benvolio nudged Mercutio with a devilish grin on his round face. “Perhaps you are being too hasty with your criticism. Her wildness could do Romeo a great deal of service … especially in bed.”
Mercutio slapped his leg as he laughed. “Honestly, Benvolio, I would be wary of dropping my trousers in front of my wife if she had fangs.”
“And an uncontrollable appetite for blood,” Benvolio said, chuckling.
A flood of anger ripped through Romeo’s body. He made his hands into fists and brought them up to his face. “How about we settle this debate the old-fashioned way, Benvolio?”
Another chuckle erupted from Benvolio’s belly. “You are barely sixteen and have not fought anyone in your life. I would crush you in seconds.”
Romeo’s older cousin spoke the truth. In his family’s crusade against Vladimir’s vampire army, Romeo had no kills, or even serious injuries, to his credit. Though his cousin teased him mercilessly about this, his parents thought he was still too young for combat. A part of Romeo was relieved to have been spared the ugliness of the war. He believed in protecting the villagers from anyone who would do them harm, but as he gaped at all the weaponry that surrounded him, he feared that his family was becoming more and more like the murderers they had vowed to stop.
Still, wasn’t the honour of Rosaline’s name worth taking a beating for? Besides, Romeo had learned excellent long-sword skills from his father, the master vampire slayer Lord Montague. Perhaps he could beat his cousin by using a few tricks he had been secretly perfecting. There was only one way to know.
“Hear this, Benvolio!” Romeo shouted, jumping onto the worktable and snatching a long-sword that was hanging on the wall. He aimed the pointed tip at his cousin and said, “Prepare for me to butcher you, you fat ugly cow!”
Benvolio and Mercutio looked at each other and burst into a riotous fit of laughter.
“Come down from there, Romeo. You’re going to fall off that table, smack your head on the ground, and split it open,” Mercutio warned him.
“Let the cow fight his own battles, Mercutio,” Romeo said.
“Have it your way, Cousin.” Benvolio nodded his head at Mercutio, who quickly took a finely crafted long-sword out of a leather sheath and handed it to him. Benvolio went into a strong fighting stance and held the sword up with his right hand. “Let the thrashing of your life begin!”
Romeo narrowed his eyes at Benvolio as his cousin leaped on to the table. He immediately lunged forward, barely allowing Romeo any time to react. Romeo blocked Benvolio’s strike with a mighty jab of his sword, and then swiftly shoved him with his left hand.Benvolio stumbled back a few steps, almost falling off the edge of the table. When he regained his balance, he grinned.