Juliet Immortal

pleased to share that he has some powers I do not. “But there are none of them here. This is
our
time. I can tell you the secrets I’ve learned. I can tell you how to reclaim a human life.”
    “And why would you do that?” I will my heart not to beat any faster, refuse to indulge the hope he’s sparked inside me.
    “You deserve it. You deserve an eternity of pleasure. And you can have it. All you have to do is trust me, and love me … just a little.”
    “Never. I will never, ever love you,” I whisper, shocked that even a madman could believe such a thing possible.
    “You could. I know it. I can see it in your eyes,” he says, determination twitching in his jaw. “And if you can, we can be human again. With bodies that live and breathe, and the freedom to do as we please. Forever.”
    Forever
. It’s what he made me promise on our wedding night, the lie he begged me to tell. He’s still so unchanged, despite his diseased mind and his hundreds of years of life. But I am not. Now the thought of forever makes me tired. Frightened. Sad. What is forever worth? When love is so fragile and even one human life so long?
    “I don’t want to live forever.”
    “You would,” he says as I take a step back, closer to the kitchen, where the knives wait in the drawer next to the sink. “If you weren’t a slave, you would.”
    “I’m no one’s—”
    “They aren’t what they’ve told you they are. They aren’t angels sent from heaven.”
    “They never said they were.”
    “They aren’t the good ones either. Did they tell you that? They’re just the losing team, the people who picked the wrong side of the coin.” Another step and another, until he stands in the doorway to the kitchen and my back is pressed against the counter. I could have a knife in my hand in seconds. A part of me screams to arm myself before it’s too late. The other part knows Romeo isn’t here to attack me. He really has come to talk, to tell me this crazy story I shouldn’t believe.
    Shouldn’t. Not … 
couldn’t
.
    There are so many things Nurse hasn’t told me. Why has she kept me in the dark? Why, if not to hide the fact that the Ambassadors aren’t as pure and wonderful as I’ve been led to believe? What if Romeo is telling the truth? What if …
    “They’re using you,” he says, playing to my secret fears. “And lying to you, and you will never,
ever
be free of them if you don’t listen. This is a chance that comes but once in anafterlife. I can see that you’re curious.” He shakes his head sadly. “It makes me wonder what they’ve told you. Probably that they’re protecting you with your ignorance. Saving you from the big bad wolves.”
    He knows. Somehow he knows what the Ambassadors tell their converts and is using that knowledge to manipulate me.
    “Get out.” The fact that he’s tempted me—even for a moment—is terrifying.
    “Don’t believe their lies. If you make the wrong choice, your next trip to the mist will be your last. You will be trapped there forever, never human again, a prisoner of your own—”
    “Get out of my house!”
    “This isn’t
your
house,” he says. “No more than anything has been yours in hundreds of years. It may seem like a passing instant, but I
know
how the centuries stretch on, wrapping around you like a snake that refuses to squeeze the life out of you, no matter how you beg.”
    I keep my face still, trying not to give any sign that I know exactly what he’s talking about, that the years I’ve spent as an Ambassador haven’t passed as easily as he assumes.
    “I know you think I’m a liar, but I promise you: this is our one—”
    “Why?” I break. I can’t help myself. I need to know what he knows. “Why now? Why is everything different? Why can’t I contact Nurse in the mirror? Why am I so weak?”
    He takes a deep breath and lets out a satisfied sigh. “So your powers are fading too. I thought maybe … But if it’s the same for both of us, this must be the end.” He jumps into the air, landing with a loud clap of his hands. “And to think a part of me still doubted.”
    He laughs his usual devilish laugh. I drop the lamp and reach for a knife. The butcher knife with the serrated edge, the one I can imagine swiping through the air to cut the grin from his wretched face.
    “Out!” I brace myself, expecting him to come for me. But he doesn’t. He turns and ambles to the front door, a swing in his step I don’t care for. At