Stella Maris (The Legendary Rosaries)

by Marita A. Hansen

  “Oh, figlio,” she said, brushing my cheek. “He didn’t want you to know, was ashamed of who he is. He does try to be good, but it’s so hard for him.”

  “How much demon blood does he have?”

  She grimaced. “His mother’s a demon, but—”

  “I’m a quarter demon!” I blurted out. I didn’t know why I was so shocked, because I knew something was wrong with me, but to have her confirm it... Dio! I had demon in me!

  “No,” she said, firmly. “You’re an angel, through and through.”

  I ran a hand over my face, knowing she was only saying that because she was my mother. “Why do you blame Papà for my attack?” I asked, feeling sicker by the second. “He wasn’t even in the city at the time. You were both in Rome.”

  She grimaced. “He stole something he shouldn’t have, something incredibly precious.”

  “What?”

  “The Halo rosary.”

  “The Maris demon never mentioned anything about the rosary. If it was to do with that, he would’ve at least mentioned it.”

  “Your father stole the rosary from a Halo demon, one that put a bounty on our famiglia.”

  “The demon still didn’t mention the rosary—” I cut myself off, realising he had. “No. He did. He said something about me probably wishing I had the Halo rosary instead of my Seraphim one. I was in too much pain to care about the meaning. Then Nonno came, distracting the demon. I blanked out, finding myself in Nonno’s car with him speeding away frantically.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think they would go after you, I thought they would come after me and your father. It’s why we went to Rome. I thought you’d be safe with your grandfather.”

  “Why didn’t you give the rosary back, then?”

  “Your father wouldn’t let me.”

  “He wouldn’t let you? You don’t need his permission.”

  “I can’t go against him. I vowed to obey him.”

  I stared at her in disbelief. “It’s just a word.”

  She grimaced. “Not for demons. When you say you’ll obey one, you can’t break it without severe consequences.”

  “Why would you even say that then, let alone marry him?”

  “It wasn’t my choice.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I held up my hand before she could reply, quickly realising why. “He bewitched you.”

  She nodded. “He saw me, wanted me, didn’t even give me a chance to choose him, just went ahead and cast a spell over me, an unbreakable one that’s for life. He guaranteed my undying love no matter what he does.”

  My mind went to Catherine, to what she’d said about me doing something similar to her. But I hadn’t, because angelic Merges couldn’t do that...

  But demon ones could.

  My heart slammed against my chest, the fact I was a quarter demon changing everything. It now meant that I could’ve done what she’d said. Though ... I hadn’t cast any spell on her, hadn’t done anything but be me.

  “How do demons bewitch people?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t inadvertently done something to Catherine. She had fought so hard to stay away from me, but, despite all of that, I kept reeling her back in.

  “A demon sees someone and, unless they belong to another, one look is all is needed. Your father cast all of his desires and wants onto me, his emotions merging with mine. Once they merged, I was tethered to him for life, the commitment much stronger than any marriage vows. Even if he falls out of love with me, I’ll always love him, reflecting that first moment he decided I was his.”

  “Could I do that?”

  She blinked at me, her expression stunned. “You’re not to do that to any person, Christopher Antonio Laboure! You’ll allow them to decide whether they want to be with you, not make that decision for them. You don’t understand how much loving a demon hurts!”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” I said, upset by her words. Even after she’d insisted I wasn’t a demon, she was still treating me like one. “I was worried I did it to Catherine without knowing.”

  She shook her head. “Your father definitely knew what he was doing, knew damn well what it would mean for me. He never cares about consequences, just does what he wants. Though, regardless, I still don’t regret what followed.”

  “Because you love him?”

  “No, because of you. If I hadn’t been bewitched by your father, I wouldn’t have had you, while he wouldn’t have met his father.”

  “Who’s his father?”

  Her face dropped. “No one.”

  I snorted out a pained laugh. “Well, he can’t not have a father. Who is it?”

  She didn’t reply, her expression sending shivers up my spine, the worries that had plagued me for so long coming to the fore.

  “No,” I said, hoping like hell I was wrong. Hoping like hell that wasn’t the reason my father resembled her father. I had always known there was some sort of blood connection between them, just not this close.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re siblings,” I said.

  She grimaced. “I didn’t know who your father was when I met him.”

  “How could you not?!” I yelled, her excuse confirming it. “He looks so similar to Nonno.” I screwed up my face, disgust quickly taking over from shock. “You went for some guy who looks like your own father? That’s sick!”

  Her eyes widened. “They don’t look that much alike. Your father has finer, more refined features, while your grandfather has a much stronger, intensely masculine face. He’s also much bigger.”

  “They still look similar.”

  “I don’t agree! They look worlds apart to me. And it wasn’t like your father and I grew up together. We didn’t even know we were half-siblings when we met. If anything, we’re not actually siblings, we’re cousins.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. If Nonno’s both your father, you’re siblings, which by the way is freaking me the hell out.”

  “It makes sense with your grandfather’s history.”

  “Then explain it so it makes sense to me.”

  “I come from your grandfather in his current form, while your father was conceived in your grandfather’s previous form.”

  “What are you on about?” I asked, not understanding a word she was saying.

  “Think about it, Chris, truly think about it. What are we? What can we do after we die?”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Nonno died?”

  She nodded.

  A chill ran through me. “He merged,” I said, finally understanding, what she was saying now making sense.

  She nodded again.

  “With who?”

  “His cousin. That’s why you think he looks similar to your father.”

  I stared at her, shocked to my core. Shocked that the man I looked at every day, the man who’d helped raise me, hadn’t been born into the body he now walked in. He’d stolen someone else’s, his soul taking possession of his cousin’s body. He’d basically imprisoned his own cousin behind a thick mental wall, locking him away ... until last night.

  “Accidenti!” I exclaimed, everything that had happened now making sense. “That wasn’t Nonno last night, was it?”

  She nodded. “His cousin’s consciousness got out due to your grandfather’s rapid aging. It’s why I had to reverse things to a safe age, but it won’t hold forever. I need to take him out of the country for a while, so he can rejuvenate.”

  “Why don’t you just use the Halo rosary again?”

  “I can’t, it’ll drain all its power. We need to keep the rosary for dire situations, like death. I’ll take him away until he heals enough to return. Then he can finish what he came here for. Just... You can’t tell any other Merge about him possessing his cousin, because if the council found out, he’ll be exorcised. Doomed to an eternity in Hell.”

  “Why would they exorcise him? He can only merge with someone who killed him. It’s justice.”

  “It’s not as clear cut as that.”

 
; “It can’t get any clearer than his so-called cousin murdering him.”

  “His cousin didn’t murder him.”

  I frowned. “But he would have to for Nonno to merge with him.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not how it works. You didn’t study properly.”

  “But the texts said that a Merge can only be fully possessed if they’re responsible for another Merge’s death.”

  “Responsible is the key word. Your grandfather died because his cousin stole his Seraphim rosary, which left your grandfather vulnerable to the flames that ultimately killed him. But his cousin, or someone else, buried your grandfather’s rosary—”

  “—which set his soul free from the main rosary bead.”

  She nodded. “Leaving his cousin open for possession. Your grandfather took over and has walked in his cousin’s shoes ever since.”

  “Who was his cousin?”

  “A Cristoforo Rosario.”

  “So, Nonno took over his cousin’s persona, pretending to be him?” I asked, the name Cristoforo Rosario on my grandfather’s passport. Reprebus was just a nickname, one that everyone had taken to calling him, since it was Saint Christopher’s birth name.

  She nodded.

  “So, what’s Nonno’s real name?”

  “Michael Laboure.”

  Chapter 22

  Tuesday the 6th of June, 1989

  I pulled into the school car park, still reeling over what my mother had told me on Saturday. Reeling over the fact that, not only had my grandfather died and merged with his own cousin, but he was my father’s father. That wouldn’t have been so bad if he wasn’t my mother’s father too. My mother didn’t just let the skeletons out of the closet, she’d let them out of the freaking attic! I was a product of incest. Freaking incest! Okay, biologically they weren’t siblings, because my father had come from my grandfather before the merge, while my mother had come after the merge. The same mind, different bodies. So, in essence they were cousins, but... it was still my grandfather who’d done the act, regardless of what body he was in at the time.

  Which had freaked me out. Still freaked me out! I’d taken off after my mother had confessed everything. I’d gone to Stephen’s place, pretending that I wanted to spend some time with the dumbass, which didn’t go down too well. He’d told me to get lost or he’d plant his fist in my face. He was still angry with me for stealing Catherine from him, even though I couldn’t steal what he didn’t have. But it didn’t matter, because his parents had heard about my argument with my father, so had let me stay over the long weekend. I just wondered whether they would’ve let me stay if they knew I had demon blood. Or if they knew about my parents’ warped relationship.

  Dio! I was a freak of nature. No wonder my mother didn’t want people knowing why my father looked like my grandfather. Though, I didn’t understand why my grandfather didn’t pretend that he’d only fathered my papà, since my mother didn’t look like him. She looked like her mother, someone who’d died well before I was born. I’d seen photos of her. They were spitting images of each other, so much alike that you’d think they were the same person. Apparently, my grandfather had loved her mother with a passion, but hated my father’s mother with an even greater passion. I still didn’t understand why he would permit my mother to marry my father. That was one thing my mother couldn’t explain.

  Still thinking about the head-job of incest and demon heritage running through my veins, I went to open my door, jolting as Catherine’s pixie friend shot in front of me. With everything that had happened since last Friday, I’d completely forgotten that she’d witnessed Catherine attack me. Which meant I had to do some clean-up, because there was no way I could risk her telling someone about the water attack.

  “Hi, Chris,” she said, bouncing in black suede boots. She was a cute-looking female, with crazy red hair that was sprayed to within an inch of its life; half Cyndi Lauper, half rooster. She’d probably done it on purpose to give herself a bit of height, because she was tiny. Regardless, it didn’t matter how small she was, she was a big threat to my people.

  I levelled her with a hard stare, not above using intimidation to make sure she kept her mouth shut. “What happened the other night—”

  “I know!” she cut me off. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. What Catherine did to you. I don’t even know where to start with that. The water—”

  “Did you tell anyone about what you saw?”

  She rolled her eyes as though my question was stupid. “Nooo. How would I explain,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “water exploding from Catherine’s body? People would think I’m nuts.”

  “Have you spoken to Catherine about it?” I asked, relieved with her answer.

  She shook her head, her hair not moving an inch. “Whenever I ring her, her mum blows me off, making all sorts of excuses why Catherine can’t answer. I even went over on Saturday and she said Catherine was sleeping. I tried again the next day, this time phoning her, but she was having a shower,” she said, making quote marks with her fingers. “I just… I need to talk to someone about it, and right now the only person other than Catherine is you. That water explosion, it was surreal. I can’t stop thinking about it. How could that happen?”

  I nodded at my car. “Hop in, I don’t want to talk about it out here.” I glanced around, making sure no one was listening. And they weren’t. The majority of students swarming the school grounds weren’t paying us any attention, and the ones who were, were more interested in throwing me flirtatious smiles than listening in on our conversation. Still, I wasn’t going to risk it, so I climbed into my car as Catherine’s friend got into the other side.

  The girl, whatever her name was, whipped her gypsy skirt inside the car and closed the door. She was wearing a mesh jumper over a leopard print singlet, and enough jewellery to supply a pawn shop. Her bracelets were clacking together, putting me on edge even more. I didn’t like the fact a human knew about my people, especially after what had happened with Levy. But I couldn’t do much about it, other than convince her to continue what she was doing, which was keeping her mouth shut.

  I closed my door. “What’s your name?”

  She looked offended at my question. “You should know, I’m in your confirmation class.”

  I shrugged, only remembering the names that were important. “I’m not good with names.”

  She frowned. “It’s Nicky Taylor. So, what do you think caused the water explosion?”

  “How long have you known Catherine?” I asked instead, trying to work out how best to deal with the situation.

  “Since Form Three. We’re best friends, almost family.”

  “So, you’d do anything to protect her?”

  Nicky nodded.

  I chewed my bottom lip, not sure whether I could trust her, but also not wanting to hurt her, because that would be my grandfather’s and father’s automatic response if they found out she knew. Those two always used violence to solve everything, which for my father now made sense, because demons were prone to violence. Christ! This demon thing really was doing my head in. Regardless, I needed to shove those thoughts aside so I could deal with the immediate threat: this girl.

  I took a deep breath in, then went for it. “If I tell you what really happened,” I said, praying I wasn’t going to regret this, “you can’t tell anyone, because if you speak about it, even to one person, you’ll put yourself and Catherine in danger. Me too.”

  She crossed her heart, her expression serious. “I promise I won’t tell a soul. I didn’t mention to anyone about what happened, even though Janet wouldn’t stop asking. I wouldn’t do anything to get Catherine into trouble.”

  “That’s good to know, because what I’m about to tell you might freak you out.”

  “Are you warlocks and witches?” she barrelled ahead, looking excited instead of worried. “Because I could totally get with that. I love anything witchy. Could you teach me some spells? Especially a love spell. I so want to learn one
of those.”

  “I never said we’re witches.”

  Her smile fell away. “But what Catherine did—”

  “Is a different kind of magic from witchcraft. It’s purer, biblical.”

  “Like in the bible?”

  I nodded.

  “But there’s nothing in there about this sort of thing, well, nothing the priests ever mentioned, because I didn’t really read that much of it. Couldn’t get past the son of the son of the son, or was it the son of the father?”

  “What are you on about?”

  She waved a hand at me. “You know, the first part of the bible. It was all about who was whose son, totally left out all the females. So not fair, like we didn’t even warrant a mention. Anyway, no one ever mentioned water coming from a person’s body.” She screwed up her nose. “Well, not from the normal places and that’s definitely not in the bible. I’m talking about going to the toilet—”

  I cut her weird ramble off, “You don’t have to spell it out for me. I’m not an imbecile.”

  She grimaced. “Sorry, I have a habit of stating the obvious. Catherine constantly ribs me for it.”

  “I have no idea what ribs have to do with you saying way too much.”

  “I wasn’t talking about pork ribs, I was talking about—”

  “I don’t care what you’re talking about!” I snapped, the girl irritating as hell. “Can we just get back to what we’re supposed to be talking about?”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  I exhaled, the female already giving me a headache. “Bene, because if you blurt out the wrong thing to the wrong person, I’ll make damn sure you end up in a mental hospital.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. “I said I wouldn’t, so stop giving me the evils.”

  “You better not, because what I’m about to show you will blow your mind.”

  “Then blow it, well, not blow it in the rude way, wait, can you even blow a mind?”

  “Shut up!” I yelled.

  She jolted. “Sheesh, you don’t need to go berserk at me, I was just asking.”

  I shook my head, wondering how this weirdo ever became friends with someone as incredible as Catherine.