“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.”
“What?” He blinks, as if the thought never entered his mind.
“You should have left me with my family in Verona.”
He shakes his head, dismissing me. “You would have ended yourself in despair.”
“Maybe, but it would have been my choice. My death.”
He pauses, then speaks in a whisper. “Who’s to say it wasn’t?”
“And there was a chance I would have lived.” I speak through gritted teeth, ignoring his insinuation that I somehow chose to be murdered. “Maybe I would have realized that a coward like you isn’t worth dying for.”
He snorts. “You forget the time in which we lived, sweet. You would have been ruined, a wife discarded after one night, a—”
“Better ruined than—” I break off, something in his face making my blood run even colder. “You knew. That night. Before we …” I fight to swallow past the lump in my throat. “You knew that you were going to give me to them.”
He shrugs, but his eyes stay on the floor, as if he’s ashamed to look me in the face. “The past is meaningless.”
“It is not.” My lip curls. “It is a testimony to what a monster you are.”
“We’re wasting time. It doesn’t matter what you think of my choices.” He curses, drives his fingers through his hair. “You must love me or spend eternity in hell. Those are your choices.”
“Then I will go to hell,” I say, knowing the second the words leave my lips that they are true. I won’t work this spell. I won’t betray the Ambassadors. Even if they have been using me, they have used me to do good, to make the world a better place. I won’t betray that, and I won’t aid Romeo in reclaiming his life. I’ve been forbidden to kill him, but I haven’t been ordered to help him live.
The thought makes me feel suddenly lighter. Even hell doesn’t sound as bad, knowing Romeo will suffer the same fate.
“You will not,” he growls.
“Oh, I will. And you will too.” I smile. “It isn’t so nice, is it? Having someone else decide whether you will live or die?”
His hands strike like snakes, reaching around to the back of my neck, fisting in my wet hair. My eyes squeeze shut at the flash of pain, but I refuse to cry out. I can’t make a sound, can’t do anything to attract Ben’s attention. “I will not let you or your destructive tendencies defeat my chance along with yours. I forbid it.” Romeo pulls my face close to his, whispering the words against my cheek. “You will love me. You will see.” His lips come down upon mine and I taste the stink of him.
I gag and push at his chest. “Let me go!”
He holds my hair tighter. “Our destinies are one, our fate is—”
Suddenly the harsh backstage lights blare to life, blinding in their intensity. Romeo’s grip loosens and I shove him—hard—willing to sacrifice Ariel’s hair in the name of gaining my freedom. The sacrifice isn’t necessary. Romeo’s fingers go limp and slide from my hair without resistance.
I stumble away, throat working, doing my best not to be sick. Now that I can see him in the light, it’s even clearer that Romeo’s power is fading. I can see it in the faint blue tinge around his lips, the black beneath his eyes, the sagging of the skin on his face. Anyone else looking would see a boy who hasn’t slept well or partied too hard the night before. But I know the truth. Death is already stealing into this body, driving Romeo out of his mind with fear.
Still, he manages to work up a laugh as his eyes rake up and down my soaked frame. “You still love me. You can’t help yourself.” He takes a step forward.
“Don’t touch me!” I warn, raising my fists.
“Get away from her! Now!” Ben’s voice comes from behind me, near the wall where he’s just hit the lights. As afraid as I am for his safety, I’m equally glad to see him. I back away, keeping one eye on Romeo as I move toward Ben.
“You love me, you—”
“I don’t. And I won’t. Ever.” I can’t lie, even for the sake of convincing Ben I’m with Dylan.
“You heard her.” Ben takes my hand, pulling me behind him. “She isn’t interested anymore,” he says, a thinly veiled threat in his tone.
Romeo laughs. “Then why …” His smile fades as his eyes flick back and forth between Ben and me, and a strangled sound escapes his throat. “What have you done?” Romeo turns his full attention to me. “What have you done!” Shock and betrayal sharpen his features, making him appear even more haggard.
“Leave, pendejo,” Ben warns.
“No.” Romeo’s rage banishes his despair. He steps forward, pointing an accusing finger at my chest. “You will always be mine. This changes nothing. You are mine!” He lunges for me, but Ben moves faster, palms finding Romeo’s shoulders and shoving—hard.
Romeo stumbles backward, falling to one knee before regaining his balance. Ben’s hand wraps around my waist, urging me toward the door. I turn, trying to keep Romeo in my line of sight, but Ben holds tight.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get—”
His words end in a huff of breath as Romeo grabs him from behind and spins him back into the theater, tackling him with a scream of rage. They fall to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs and tight fists. “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you myself!” Romeo’s fist comes at Ben’s face, but Ben dodges to the left, leaving Romeo nothing to punch but floor.
I run forward, reaching them just as Romeo’s knuckles slam into the wooden planks hard enough to make them crack. I reach for his arms, but he’s already busy with his leg. He sweeps his foot in a circle, knocking me to the floor. I fall as Romeo turns and dives for Ben again.
Ben’s ready for him this time. He grabs Romeo’s shoulders and rolls to the ground, kneeing Romeo in the gut, hitting hard enough to lift his feet off the floor. Even before he lands, Ben’s at him with his fists, pounding at Romeo’s face, chest, stomach—any body part unlucky enough to come into range. He’s terrifyingly fast, brutal, holding nothing back. If Romeo were in top form, Ben wouldn’t be able to land half his blows, but in his present state Romeo isn’t faring well. There’s a chance Ben could damage Romeo, and his own future along with him. I have to end this. Now.
“Ben, stop!” I scream. “Stop!”
But he doesn’t seem to hear me. He’s lost in the fight, his bright eyes shadowed in a way I’ve never seen before. I’m going to have to stop him myself, hope he’ll come to his senses if I pull him away.
I’ve just taken a step forward when the door to the theater opens and a male voice cries out. “What’s going on in here? Ben! Dylan! Stop this right now!” Mr. Stark—with Mike, the student teacher, close on his heels—runs into the theater. Together, they pull Romeo and Ben apart, revealing the mess they’ve made of each other.
I suck in a breath, fingers flying to my lips. Romeo’s eye is swollen, and blood leaks from the side of his mouth. Ben’s face looks better, but he can’t seem to stand up straight, even with Mike holding his arm.
“We’re going to the office. Now!” Mr. Stark pulls a glaring Romeo toward the door. “You too, Ariel,” he adds before heading out into the rain. Mike and Ben follow. As they come closer, Ben’s eyes meet mine
, making a promise, a vow that he would do the same thing again in a heartbeat. That he will destroy anyone who tries to hurt me. Anyone who dares to threaten the girl he … the girl he …
Oh no. It can’t be. He can’t feel that. Even if he thinks he does.
It’s impossible. Gemma is his soul mate; she’s the one he’s been glowing for since the night I arrived, and probably long before.
“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he says, stopping beside me.
“But …” But I am. So, so sorry. It doesn’t matter if the Ambassadors are liars. I can’t believe I’ve done this, put Ben’s chance at a lifetime love at risk.
“Come on, guys. Let’s go.” Mike looks nervous, out of his element policing kids only a few years younger than himself.
As we trudge outside, I keep my eyes on the ground, misery flooding into every borrowed cell. My own feelings I can deny, destroy, or at the very least, control. But what am I going to do now?
If Ben isn’t just tempted, if he thinks he’s in love with the wrong girl?
SIXTEEN
The rain rattles down on the metal roof covering the path, an ominous drum solo that accompanies our walk to the office, where the principal will decide our punishment for fighting on school grounds. I suppose I’ll be included in the punishment. I tried to join in and am the reason for the fight, though I’m still not sure what pushed Romeo over the edge.
Was it simply my refusal to work the spell? Or did he see something in my eyes? Something that gave my feelings for Ben away?
If he did, we’re all in bigger trouble than a trip to the office can ever produce. Once Romeo recovers from his jealousy, he’ll find a way to use this information against me, against Ben and Gemma. He promised he’d go after them if I didn’t play nice. The thought makes me drag my feet. Mike slows beside me. He’s released Ben, allowing him to walk, while Mr. Stark pulls a cursing Romeo forcibly down the path.
“You two will be fine,” Mike says. “Mr. Stark knows Dylan is trouble. He wouldn’t have given him a part in the play if more guys who could sing had tried out.”
“Right.” I force a smile. It’s nice of him to try to make us feel better.
“And … I don’t know …” Mike’s eyes meet mine. “Well, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I try to do the right thing. I’ll speak up for you guys.”
I stumble on a crack in the sidewalk and just barely catch myself before I fall. What’s he talking about? What does he think I’ve heard?
“You okay?” Mike asks, stopping beside me.
I nod. “Yeah. Thanks.” I stare into his green eyes, searching for something I hope I won’t find.
Romeo said the Mercenary who made him is here, hiding, watching us. The monster could be inside anyone, even this seemingly kind man. This man who is suddenly very concerned about what I may have “heard.”
“I think I’ve heard just about everything.” I hold his gaze for a long moment, until a curtain drops behind his eyes. The authority-figure facade fades, leaving an equal standing beside me, assessing me with newfound respect, trying to judge just how much of a threat I truly am.
“Are you two coming?” Ben asks.
Mike turns to him. “Go on ahead. We’ll be there in a second.”
Ben hesitates, but then I guess he decides he’s in enough trouble and continues down the path. Mike waits until Ben turns, then speaks in a whisper. “Does he know?”
“Know what?” My breath comes faster. Could Mike really be one of them? One of the high Mercenaries, standing right next to me, asking if one of the people I’ve been sent for knows there are immortal bad guys after his soul?
He crosses his arms and his look grows decidedly less friendly. “You know what. Just tell me if you told Ben.”
“No.” I stand tall, refusing to show fear. “But I won’t let anyone hurt him.”
Mike sighs. “If you tell him, there’s no way that—”
Before he can complete his threat, a scream cuts through the gray morning, making me flinch. It’s a girl’s cry—high and frightened, a shrill sound that vibrates along my skin. I spin, searching for the source, letting out a cry of my own when I find it.
“What’s wrong?” Mike asks.
I shake my head, pulse pounding louder than the rain, drowning out everything but the sound of her scream as it comes again and again.
At the edge of campus, I see my old form, running through the field behind the theater building. She struggles through the high grass toward the shelter of the trees, slippers sticking in the mud, stumbling and falling only to scramble to her feet once more. She’s moving fast for a girl hampered by heavy skirts and underclothes, but she won’t be fast enough.
The thing behind her has nothing to impede its progress. It runs like an animal, capering up the hill as if this chase is a game it will see through to its bloody conclusion. Romeo’s corpse appears even more skeletal with its tattered bits of clothing soaked by the downpour. I can count every rib, see the way its pelvic bones shift as it runs, swiftly closing in on my old self.
I don’t know why he’s chasing her if Romeo is the one he’s been sent for, but I’m not going to let him have her. My mind tells me I should fear the soul specter sent to claim me, but my gut screams for me to help her, to protect her, to go to her. Now.
“Ariel! Where are you going?” Mike calls after me, confusion in his tone. Whether it’s real—and he honestly can’t see or hear what I do—or for the benefit of those listening, I don’t care.
All that matters is that I reach myself in time.
I sprint across the sodden school grounds, arms working, fists flying up beside my eyes, feet skipping from one patch of grass to another. Faster and faster, until my legs cramp and my stomach knots, but I don’t stop, I don’t falter. I run straight for the creature scampering up the hill, this time the hunter instead of the hunted.
The rain comes harder, making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead, but I keep going. I hear her cries and the eager snarls from the beast as it closes in. It’s drawing out the chase, torturing its prey, feeding on her fear as surely as it will feed on her blood.
I fall, my sweater snagging on a twisted branch and holding tight. Instead of fighting to free myself, I tug the sweater off and leave it, running on in my brown tank top. The skin on my arms puckers in the cold and my teeth chatter so loudly I can no longer hear her screams.
My screams. Hers. Mine. Hers.
I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what’s real or true. I only know that as I reach the end of the trees and the land opens up onto a vast vineyard, a part of me isn’t surprised to see my body and Romeo’s waiting for me. They stand hand in hand, as if the chase has been a game for them both, as if they own the world that slopes in graceful folds all around them. My old dress is still soaked and bloody, and Romeo is a slack-jawed horror, but the two figures are united in a way Romeo and I haven’t been for centuries.
“Run away,” the Romeo creature groans. I brace myself, thinking it intends to chase me back through the woods, but then my old body laughs.
“Don’t run away,” she says. “Love.” My eyes meet hers and once again I sense a hollowness inside her, a feeling that something necessary is missing.
“What do you mean?” I ask, voice shaking. “I can’t love Romeo. I just—”
“Love,” she repeats, as if she hasn’t heard me, and before I can say another word, they’re gone. Vanished in a blink. My eyes sweep along the rows of vines in every direction, but there is nothing. They’ve disappeared and I’ve lost her again. I’ve lost myself.
I should be glad. According to Romeo, that body is a psychic manifestation sent to consume me. But I’m not glad. A wounded sound tears from my throat as I fall to my knees. I can’t do what she says. I can’t love Romeo. I can’t. I hate him. I will always hate him. My heart squeezes in my chest, trying to collapse into itself and disappear, to escape this strange agony.
Love. Hate. Love.
I fee
l as if I’m being torn apart. My stomach lurches and the world tilts unsteadily on its axis, and I find myself wondering if maybe this is all in my head. All of it.
What if everything I believe to be real is simply a creation of my mind? Maybe I was never Juliet. Maybe I never died in a tomb or fought my ex-love through the ages. Maybe I’m just Ariel Dragland, eighteen, a girl who’s suffered a head injury and is now certifiably insane.
“No. I’m not mad, I’m not,” I sob, only realizing that tears are streaming down my face when the words come out more gurgle than shout.
I suck in a breath and choke on it, swiping at my running nose and dripping eyes, angry at the nose for its pert, upturned slope, hating these big blue eyes and the rough scars that mark my stolen skin. I hate this body—not because of the scars, but because it isn’t mine. It isn’t. I’m not crazy, not yet. I’m simply sick to the bone of having nothing that is mine, not my mission, not my choices, not even my own flesh and blood. I hate it.
I hate traveling through time, watching the world transform so radically yet stay so much the same. I hate the world for creating monsters like Romeo and the greed and fear and evil that give him and people like him something to kill for. I hate the Mercenaries for stealing my brief flash of happiness. I hate Nurse for not telling me the truth about who and what she is, about what I am. I hate the Ambassadors for trapping me with my own compassion, for forcing me to work for the good of humanity even when humanity seems the furthest thing from good. I hate that I’ve spent so many years fighting for love when my own love was stolen away. So brief and then gone, never to have a second chance.
Most of all, I hate the hope that continues to spring to life inside me only to die again and again, as if I haven’t lived through enough misery to know that hope is for fools.
Tears and more tears, enough to fill the world, rush down my face, making it feel like the rain is still falling, though it has stopped for a moment, leaving the air cold and lonely. I try to pull myself up, but I can’t, can’t find my way through rage and despair to something good enough to get me to my feet.