Romeo and Juliet: A Vampire and Werewolf Love Story Read online

  “Well, excuse me, my dear Romeo. I didn’t realize you were having quality alone time. Nor did I realize that you were claiming this island as your own personal space. I know that you and the island like to get more and more intimate as the night wears on. I just wasn’t aware you were ready to make sweet love with it. I can stand behind the restroom area if you need to finish whatever you need to finish.”

  “To what do I owe this pleasure of your presence?” I said to Mercutio, completely ignoring his last statement.

  “We are all meeting at Kensey’s Pub later.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Who else? Your cousins and all of the man servants you call friends.”

  “Abram is not a man servant,” I said, laughing.

  “His job is to wipe your ass if you need it to be done. I call that a man servant.”

  “I would never ask Abram to do anything that I wouldn’t do myself. I tell you what, you can have his services for a week. I know you are dying for the chance to see him in action.”

  “Nah. I can wipe my own butt, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

  “Your loss. He could teach you a thing or two.”

  “Seriously, Romeo, what are you doing out here? It’s not normal to keep going off by yourself to sulk. Ke”

  “I’m not sulking.”

  “Well, you haven’t been yourself lately.”

  “Hopefully, I’ve been better.”

  “I wouldn’t say better. I’d say weirder. Your head seems like it’s in the clouds. Come back to Earth, Romeo. It’s a lot more fun in the Prince’s new Verona than seeing you stare off into the sky with a glazed, smitten look on your face.”

  “Verona-shmerona,” I said. “Manhattan will always be Manhattan. You can rename it all you like, but the borough lives on in infamy.”

  “So, what is it exactly that you do out here?”

  “Dream.”

  “Dream? Isn’t that is what your bed is for? Well, besides that other thing…” Mercutio winked. He always liked to prick at me with his unsubtle humor.

  “Mercutio, you know better than anyone that this isn’t all there is. That somewhere just over the horizon is a better place. What we can see and touch is just the beginning of what exists. There’s…a place…not like the way it is here.”

  “What’s wrong with the way it is here?”

  “Everyone hates each other. Everyone is suspicious of one another. Everyone is out for themselves.”

  “That’s why you need a strong dose of Mary’s Blessing.” Mary’s Blessing was a special serum that Mercutio and his mentor, Apos Apothecary, discovered one day while they were developing new magic.

  “I don’t do chemicals,” I replied. “You know me. I’m all about the organics.”

  “You drink, don’t you?”

  “Yeah… so?”

  “Alcohol is a chemical.”

  “The chemicals and magic you deal with are on a whole other level. The recipe for alcohol is basically, just mix yeast and sugar with grain and walk away until it’s time to strain and bottle it. The worst that has happened to me from alcohol is the headache the next day and your embellished recollections of how I made a spectacular ass of myself the night before. But with Mary’s Blessing, that’s another story. You’ve told me you have been MIA in your own brain for eighteen hours at a time.” I shuddered involuntarily.

  “That’s the beauty of Mary’s Blessing, Romeo. It takes you to the place. All you have to is show up.”

  “The way you have described this place, Mary’s Blessing, and where it takes you—it is very similar to what I feel in my dream,” I said plainly. “Removed from reality and immersed in a sublime magnificent peaceful place.”

  “Imagine going there whenever you like.”

  “Getting high?”

  “It’s not a high. It’s not a drug-induced state you’re in. The serumls t size= takes you there. It might only be in your mind, but you are 100 percent there.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked.

  “There is something that happens that I’ve never shared with you. Apos and I have kept it under wraps, but this might get you a better perspective of what happens to you after a nice dosage of Mary’s Blessing.”

  “Let me guess. The vessel that you call your earthly body dies of too much of a good thing.”

  “My body is already dead. I’m a werewolf.”

  “Same here. So tell me something I don’t know.”

  “All right, so you do die. Sort of. There are various states of death, and the states of it are always relative. With Mary’s Blessing, you’re not dead in the sense of the physical world, but dead in the sense that your body is dead while your brain goes to Never Never Land.”

  “How did you and Apos even come up with Mary’s Blessing? Come on, fess up!”

  “You see, Apos and I didn’t exactly come up with it ourselves. We recreated the formula from an ancient tribe’s secret that had been lost from the 16th century until now. The magic had been secretly hidden for hundreds of years. Apos and I just rediscovered it after hours of experiments and development in the cellar.”

  “And drinking it,” I added.

  “I’d never ask anyone to partake unless I had safely partaken myself,” Mercutio replied, waggling his eyebrows.

  “Good thinking,” I said dryly.

  “You should come to the cellar, hang out with me and Apos sometime. Raise some Mary’s Blessing to your lips with us, go to the place where you want to go.”

  The cellar was a special spot that Apos kept in the Upper West Side. The Upper West Side was neutral turf, as far as the families were concerned and a lot of witches and warlocks had made that area their own. The witches and warlocks liked to keep out of our drama and Apos was one of them. He was always guarded around me, but so far, not unfriendly.

  “I’ll think about it. So, what are you really telling me, Mercutio?”

  “I’m telling you, if you ever want to go to that place that you see in your dreams, I can take you there whenever you like. You just need to ask.”

  I looked at Mercutio and his offer was tempting, but for another time. “I’ll keep that in mind, friend.”

  “Look, brother, I’ll let you finish up your alone time with a 225-ton statue and an island that you think is your happy place. But do try to tear yourself away for some prime bro time.”

  “When’s the witching hour?”

  “Very funny. Meet the guys at 12:30 at Kensey’s. It should be fun. Some Capulets are throwing a private party in the back. We can mess wie w can meth them.”

  “More likely, they will mess with us.”

  “It’s all a numbers game with you two families.”

  “I know. I’m tired of it. All the posing and one-upping.”

  “It is what it is.”

  “How do you plan to get to the mainland?”

  “I’ve been working on a walking on water spell.”

  “It must be nice,” I said with a smirk. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery?”

  “Hey! Don’t be hating the two percent.”

  “You magic guys are nauseating. What a shtick!”

  “Jealous?” Then Mercutio said some mumbo jumbo and began to walk back across the Hudson, right on top of the water.

  “Walk this way!” he called back to me, a cocky note in his voice.

  Mercutio is such a show off.

  Chapter Four

  I spent another half hour on the island after Mercutio left. I walked around and took in all my surroundings, inhaling the symbolism of the grand Lady before me and hearing the echoes of another time.

  Before I was a werewolf, I had heard tales of my ancestors coming on immigrant ships. When their ships passed the Statue of Liberty on their way to Ellis Island to disembark on American soil, they cheered. They had come far to the promised land, mostly blue-collar workers in the trades, and they had dreams for the potential that their skills held for escaping the problems in the “old country
.” The craftsmen, toolmakers, seamstresses, pipefitters, riveters, shoemakers, vintners, carpenters, glass-blowers, even the prizefighters—all of the ones with our surname had cheered at the sight of the Statue of Liberty until tears came from their eyes at such relief and joy at safely crossing the ocean, some in wartime.

  Five hundred and fifty-two Montagues had come through Ellis Island to America and each had laid eyes on the Statue of Liberty, the Lady that was my talisman and protector of my dreams, and theirs. We were all connected by Miss Liberty. Having heard those stories, passed down in my family like legend, it rang true that the Montagues had come to America and had helped build it by the sweat of their brows and not by any other means than being survivors, scrappers, hard workers, and men and women of undeniable courage.

  When I was on Liberty Island, I liked to take in exactly what it meant, that this place, this Lady, exists. Liberty…freedom. It’s hard to believe that you have much freedom when you are a slave to hate. For hundreds of years, Montagues had been bred to hate two things: Capulets and vampires, and the likelihood was that if you were Capulet, then y byyou were also a vampire. Then the Montagues really hated you.

  The Capulets came to this place already endowed with money and power. Whatever the Montagues had, we built it, bead of sweat by bead of sweat, and drop of blood by drop of blood. We did not take, we gave. The Capulets did not give, they took. I had been told this, all of my life.

  All of the hate, however, had made its way through me. It had come in one side and completely out the other, like I was a sieve. The evil sifted away through a maturing heart. Something had come over me over the last few moons. For the first time, I began to see the world from a place of joy and love. Not how I usually saw it: as survival of the fittest, the strongest, the most determined.

  I chose a few months back to play the immortal game when I chose to live my life as an immortal. The side I chose was chosen for me by my family. But blood is thicker than water. If my father, my grandfathers, my uncles and brothers chose immortality as werewolves, their decisions carried weight with me. I looked at who we were, the Montagues, and I loved and respected our family and what we had always done well: survived. I was young, so I did not rebel against what I had grown up with. I was taught that we were the underdogs, the road less traveled, that we were the warm bloods. I could never choose to be a cold blood. The very idea was foreign to me, like choosing to sit on the wrong side of the stadium at a spectator sport. It was unthinkable to become anything other than what I had been raised to become: a werewolf. The very howl brought me deep pleasure as my adulthood bloomed and I neared my prime as a wolf and a man.

  As the night sky deepened, the wind came up and I realized that I needed to leave the Lady, for tonight.

  Unlike Mercutio, I had to take the ferry back. I caught the last ferry of the night and looked out over the slick, dark waves as our ferry boat brushed against them. Once again, I’d been given an overwhelming feeling of hope, of promise. I knew that something was coming. It is going to be something even beyond my own imagination.

  The ferry got to the mainland quickly and I stepped off the boat, knowing that I was as far south as one could get when it came to this great city. I needed to get to Times Square. I had three choices. One, I could turn into my wolf form and run the distance. It would be slower than motorized transportation, but I could save a little in the wallet.

  My second choice would be to take the subway. It wasn’t that expensive, but subways were a haven for vampire punks wanting to screw with people. It was always a numbers game.

  The last alternative was to throw down a good chunk of change on a cab ride. I had a problem. It had been a while since I had seen a chunk of change, yet, I had some of my own.

  Although it wasn’t the safest choice, I decided to take the subway. It was a quick ride. You make one fast connection on the shuttle. The whole trip lasted twelve minutes. In the city of Verona, during these times, a hell of a lot could happen to somebody in twelve minutes. At night, especially.

  I went into the substation at Bowling Green. I needed to take the 4 train to Grand Central Station and then take the shuttle train to Times Square. I hurried through the subway double doors that led into the station. Then I hurried down a gum-chewed, cigarette-butt littered n itt littcement hallway, leaped down a flight of stairs and then took the train on the right.

  I could hear the 4 train coming up ahead. This is the moment where one had no idea what to expect. The train could pull up and it could be filled with just janitorial workers taking the sub home from a late shift. Or, it could be dicey. The train could pull into the station and it could be filled with vampires. If anyone ran from them, they would be chased down for sport. If you did get on the bus, you were outnumbered and any number of things could happen to you if alone on a subway with any group that hated your guts. Simply for existing. This prejudice was about species. Immortal species. And which would prevail. Same old. Same old.

  The train screeched to a stop in front of me. Subway car after subway car, the coast looked clear. I was standing at the far end, so I needed to wait for the last car to pull in front of me because that was going to be where I would enter the train.

  I held my breath, and scanned the people in the last car for vampires. It looked good. I saw a couple of vamps, but there were twice as many wolves in the car.

  The subway came to a complete stop, and the doors slid open. I stepped inside and knew I could find a place to sit. I just wanted a reasonable place to stand. To the center toward the back was a nice spot. There would be no one behind me and I could see the whole subway car. I made my way over to the spot and took my position like a soldier standing guard of a castle during the times of Henry the Eighth.

  The train took off and I rested my head. I sighed and closed my eyes. After a moment, I opened my eyes as if someone had shocked me in the groin. I stared straight ahead and saw the most beautiful woman staring at me. She was a vision of absolute beauty. I looked deep into her eyes and she didn’t look away, almost as if she had waited for me to notice her. The way she looked at me was loving and tender. Her eyes gave me comfort, and the intensity behind those eyes, inspired my soul to new levels. I saw something in her that I had never seen in another. Ever. It was unconditional compassion.

  She was amazing. She was everything I had ever needed. I knew this without her even saying a word to me. Our eyes never looked away. Then she got off at the next stop. She was wearing a white dress with blue trim. She had dark brown hair and pale skin. She was everything I’d ever wanted. I knew it the second I laid eyes on her. As I stared at this beautiful creature, turning my head as my train left the station where she got off, I knew one thing was for damn sure. I was in trouble. Big trouble. Why? She was a vampire.

  My heart sent a plea to the universe, before my mind could shut down the thought: Oh fates, please don’t let her be a Capulet!

  Chapter Five

  The year was 2099. In just 100 years, everything we knew about the world got turned on its head once two immortal opposing sides rose up. After that, vampires and werewolves had pretty much changed the world. But not every human had bought into choosing an immortal side so they could live forever. I guessed that was the balance of nature. Everyone had something to gain as well as something to lose.

  I took the shuttle from Grand Central and I jumped out on 42nd Street. Awe…Times Square. Could this place be any cooler? It was a celebration of commercialism to the tune of light visuals. I didn’t care. This was my favorite place to be. Maybe because it was uncharted turf. No side claimed it. Not even the Prince. Times Square was for all of us. We all were equal. Not to say that we didn’t harass one another when we had a chance. It was always good to have safety in numbers. That is why the sooner I saw my friends, the safer I would feel.

  I was meeting them at the local pub. It was a place that catered to both Capulets and Montagues, as long as we respected their place of business and didn’t bust it up. It was understoo
d that if a disagreement was about to break loose, that the participants would take it outside. The place was owned by a good friend of mine. The owner of this establishment knew the only way he could make money is that he needed for there to be peace among all of us in his establishment. Even with the vampires and werewolves. I liked his philosophy: If there is peace, all of us prosper. The three families had made it so hard around here that it was nice when someone took a different approach.

  I made my way down 49th Street to Kensey’s. It was a couple of blocks away and the walk would be nice. I wanted to gather my thoughts about the girl on the subway.

  My mind and heart felt like it was a puzzle. It was as if fate was giving me clues to figure out my happiness. Little by little, they were pulling back layers and revealing my own private heaven. If it was heaven, I didn’t know why its presence felt stronger than it ever had before.

  I finally found myself approaching Kensey’s. Benvolio, my favorite cousin, was standing outside, looking at his watch.

  “Hey, Ben, what’s up?” I said walking up to him.

  “Capulets are what’s up,” Ben said. “They’re in the house. And they’re trouble. As usual.”

  “What’s going on? Where’s the owner?”

  “He’s in the back entertaining some uppity Capulets who are down from the Hamptons, getting their street groove on in Times Square.”

  “Well, what happened?” I asked.

  “I was sitting in my usual spot, enjoying the finest of foreign beers, when two of those blood-sucking fools come to our table and just stared at me.”

  “They just stared at you?”

  “At first they did, giving me the stink eye, but then when I didn’t give them the time of day, they confronted me verbally.”

  “What did they do?” I asked, weary.

  “The usual. They threatened me and told me I was lucky I was inside the bar. Insulted my mother’s reputation. And so on.”