Enemy Territory

"So what now?" his cousin's voice shook.

A fancy hall filled with all those Capulets—a dream for some, a nightmare to them. Servants carried champagne to lubricate the gears, live music drowning out the chatter.

The static inside Romeo's temple prickled.

"We should split, Benvo-Lion," Merman-Cutio suggested, "to maximize our chances."

"What? No way—"

At least the plush costume hid his cousin from head to toe, while Romeo felt naked with his hair sticking out. He knew why they came, but why agree to dress like a villain?

"We'll divide the playing field," his friend insisted.

He got it the worst with his get-up. The fin made walking impossible, a bumpy plastic mask of his character on his face. He looked ridiculous, but well, he deserved it.

"We're in enemy territory—" Benvolio whined, then silence.

His lion paws poked Romeo's side.

"That's Tybalt," he whispered, scrambling for his inhaler. "We must move."

The thug walked past them while they all held their breaths.

"Look at all the girls, though," his friend protested, waning at the exquisite garbs. "It'd be a waste to go—or go for the same ones, so—dibs on every brunette."

"So shallow, even for you," Benvolio gasped. "Romeo, we should leave."

The elite of the Capulets freaked him out too—and the buzzing didn't help.

He would've agreed with his cousin if not for planning his moves.

Only a few guests put effort into dressing up as something. Most preferred masks and revealing clothes. They were handheld, ornate, expensive—and hid nothing.

"There's a redhead I'm interested in, so gingers for me," he decided with a sigh. The firefighter in the wheelchair had yet to notice them. Tybalt didn't either.

"That's the spirit," the merman yelled. "Now, pick your poison."

"Are you for real?" Benvolio whined. "Then I guess blondes—"

Romeo didn't wait for the rest, homing in on his target.

His movements were slow and deliberate, stalking like the villain he impersonated. He stuck to the shadows, avoiding everyone he knew—except her.

After missing Julie all week, her cinnamon scent acted like a magnet.

It was almost lost in the dazzling hall, diluted by rich perfumes, but he ignored them. He banished every distraction—but the annoying static in his temple.

It was the same as in the hospital and after the assassination attempt.

When his mind paired a face to this sickening feeling, he changed course to hide behind a cold marble column. He wanted to spot the danger before it found him in this sea of jewelry.

His heart rate went through the roof.

Being near Julie was exciting, too, but this was something else. His sixth sense told him the Capulets weren't the real problem here—it only entered the picture.

Paris swooped in to kiss Julie's hand.

The static crescendoed—a primal warning. The black-haired boy wore ornate white clothes—a wolf in silk. They might've been the same age but acted nothing alike.

"Lady Capulet, it's my honor to meet you again."

"We've met?" Julie asked, muffled by her gas mask. Her eyes still flashed green, eyebrows raised above the edge of her plexi screen.

"Right, my apologies, you were unconscious," Paris explained.

He glanced at Romeo's column, sending a chill down his spine. Scooting to the other side, he spotted Tybalt again, locking gazes. "Talk about getting stuck between a rock and a hard place."

He was about to run when Mercutio caught up. "Damn, these girls move too fast."

Romeo yanked the poor bastard into cover. "That's the guy who challenged us to a duel," he choked out, staring at the thug, then nodded toward Julie. "And that prick—"

"Paris? Yeah, I heard rumors."

"What?" Romeo froze. Tybalt's glare and the buzzing in his temples made him sick.

"That he likes her, or something," the merman shrugged.

The fancy room with all the fancy Capulets started to spin.

"Who the hell is that guy?" Romeo wanted him dead more than ever.

"Huh? I don't know," his friend deflected. "He transferred to the island a month ago. I thought he'd start high school in your class, but he's glued to the governor."

That didn't line up with his cryptic speech about Vat 16 and being the same.

His friend kept whispering. "I never saw him before, but my second cousin spoils him rotten."

That much was obvious. Romeo considered spilling the beans but then caught Tybalt's voice.

"I'm not mistaken, Lord Capulet," he insisted, out of sight from his hiding spot. His sharp ears could isolate his words during a pause in the music. "That Montague dog—"

"We're busted," he relayed as the melody continued.

"No, we're not." Mercutio waved his flyer. "They invited me."

"Yes, but you're the governor's relative—"

"And you're my esteemed guest," he insisted. "Didn't I tell you that Escalus hates your bickering? I quote: 'The next to start a fight will be off Verona Island before they know it'"

Romeo wasn't convinced.

He found Tybalt in the crowd, arguing with the ball's host. He stomped and yelled, but the music masked it well. With bated breath, he watched until the thug stormed off.

Lord Capulet smiled at him—but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, he knows I'm here for sure," he mumbled. It made him wonder what face he'd make if he knew how Romeo felt about his only daughter. "He won't find out today."

Mercutio missed their exchange.

"There," he sighed, putting a pocket knife away. He cut a hole in his costume and sliced it up to his knees. The merman illusion would only persist from the front—if you didn't look too hard.

At least now he could walk—more or less.

"Anyway, want to see something cool while your firefighter is on duty?" he asked. Romeo didn't want to leave Paris alone with her, but what could he do?

Mercutio waved the flyer in his face. He caught some bold letters.

"Capulet Medium Mk. VI?" he raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Their newest mech," his friend said in a conspiratory voice. "Or did you think they hosted this fancy party to celebrate the school semester?"

Romeo had no idea but knew better than to say anything.

"It's a masquerade," Mercutio smirked. "They'll unveil a new mech later—a metaphor for dropping pretenses. And your hair's a neon sign anyway."

"So you knew they'd find me anyway," Romeo groaned.

"I wasn't planning to stick around until then, but yeah," his friend shrugged. And Romeo remembered him saying how common it was on the island.

Mercutio was his friend—the best one at that.

Choking him to death would have been a waste, especially with all the witnesses around. That was how Romeo convinced himself to take a deep breath instead and let it slide.

"You'll be the death of me one day," he shook his head.

"Or you'll be mine," the merman grinned. "Come on, let's do some corporate espionage."

"It's not espionage if they were to unveil it anyway." Romeo inhaled the sweet cinnamon scent one last time. Paris was still with his secret frenemy, and he despised it.

But what could he do? Lord Capulet tolerated him—for now.

Making a scene would do him no favors, and Julie had warned him against making things weird.

"Fine, even if I'll never pilot a mech, they're still impressive."