Stella Maris (The Legendary Rosaries)

by Marita A. Hansen

  I snorted out a laugh. “You don’t have a chance in hell of succeeding. She hates you, plus you’re old.”

  His expression darkened. “You forget I’ve merged. Because of it, I have the ability to jump bodies more readily than a normal Merge. So you will either seduce that girl or I’ll merge with you and do it myself.”

  My eyes widened in horror. “You can’t do that!”

  “I don’t want to, but if you force me—”

  “I’m not forcing you to do anything! You’d be forcing me, your own grandson. You can’t do that to me, you can’t. I would never forgive you!”

  “You won’t leave me with a choice if you don’t stop being so pig-headed!”

  I shook my head at him, not understanding how he could do that to me.

  “It wouldn’t be for long, so stop overreacting.”

  “I’m overreacting? You want to take over my body to seduce my girlfriend. That’s sick.”

  “She’s your girlfriend now, is she?”

  “Sì, so you can’t touch her!”

  “It won’t be my hands touching her. It’ll be yours.”

  Chapter 32

  I locked my bedroom door and yanked off my shirt, throwing it at my bed, so bloody angry that I could smash holes in my walls. But what good would that do? My grandfather would still go after Catherine if I didn’t do what he wanted, using my body to hurt her. Dio! I didn’t know he could even do that. I’d heard of demons forcibly taking over bodies, but never an angel Merge. Sì, we could do it to someone who was responsible for our death, but never to an unwilling innocent. I froze at that thought, rewinding to the part about demon possession, then rewinding further to the bit where the nun had thought my grandfather was a demon. My heart slammed against my chest, slammed so hard that I felt like I was going to throw up. Did he have demon blood like my father? But Papà treated him like he had none. Yet, if that were true, how could he possess innocents? I’d read nothing about angel Merges being able to do that.

  I slumped onto my bed and pulled out the Halo rosary from my pocket, for the thousandth time wishing I was a Halo instead of a Seraph. I wanted to be in a family that was more inclined to healing people than burning them alive, because what good was fire if all it did was harm?

  I placed the Halo rosary over my head, praying it could heal my heart, because right now it was breaking. In answer to my prayer, soothing waves of solace washed over my body, the pearls on the Halo rosary trying to heal my breaking heart, my grandfather’s words having shattered me. I couldn’t believe he would even contemplate using me like that, and especially against my consent. Even suggesting it made me feel violated, my skin crawling at the thought that he could use my body to seduce Catherine. No matter how much I loved him, I couldn’t let him do that to me.

  Or to Catherine.

  ***

  A cold breeze brushed across my face, ice-cold fingers of air rousing me from my sleep. I yawned and opened my eyes, startling a second later. Instead of being in my bed, I was lying on a beach, the sand beneath me sticking to my bare back.

  Wondering whether I was in a dream, since I was in my own body, I pushed to my feet, stopping at what I saw out on the water. A girl was standing on the surface with her arms outstretched. Her long white hair was whipping about like the water at her feet. She was playfully flicking her fingers upwards, creating thin waterspouts. They danced around her like Grecian sprites in white and blue gowns, with sequins that sparkled under the moon.

  Then she turned around.

  It was Catherine.

  She didn’t see me, too caught up with what she was doing. I watched in awe as balls of water took form in her palms. She said something, which seemed to awaken the fish. They jumped through the globes of water that were now hovering above her palms. She raised her hands higher, doubling the size of the spheres. Without warning, she propelled one of them at a row of boulders, splintering a massive rock in two.

  “Whoa!” I said, shocked by her power.

  Her head whipped around to me, her eyes going round as our gazes met. She dropped her hands, the other water sphere and the spouts instantly dropping too.

  “Christopher!” she called out, sounding as startled as she looked. “What are you doing here?!”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but something pulled on my body. Before I knew what was happening, I was being yanked back by an invisible force. Catherine yelled out my name, but I couldn’t see her. Or anything. My sight was gone along with the air in my lungs. Everything and nothing was closing in on me, the suffocating pressure on my body making me feel like I was going to implode and explode at the same time. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Instead, I sucked in air, lessening the pressure on my lungs, the relief massive. The pressure on the outside of my body also disappeared, only cool air tickling my exposed skin.

  I opened my eyes, finding myself back in bed. I was cold, yet sweating, everything about the experience a paradox. I looked down at my body, finding the Halo rosary still lighting me up like a human torch. Unnerved, I pulled the rosary off and tucked it under my pillow, wondering what I’d experienced. Because it wasn’t a passe or a premonition. But was it a dream or real? I didn’t know, other than if it was real, Catherine had powers far beyond a novice. She looked more like a master out on the water, the control she had incredible. So incredible that she could take down a master.

  Like my grandfather.

  Chapter 33

  ~ CATHERINE ~

  Tuesday the 20th of June, 1989

  I quietly slipped through the rumpus room’s sliding door, like I’d done over the past couple of weeks. Every day before dawn, I would go to Whitford’s remote beach and practice the skills described in the books that Sister Cecile had given me the day she’d died. From water spheres to spouts, to controlling fishes and dolphins, I would learn something new, as well as fine-tuning other skills I’d already mastered. And every morning, I’d return home without anyone knowing what I’d been up to…

  Until Christopher had appeared out of nowhere.

  Then had disappeared just as suddenly, like he’d never been there. I’d stared at the spot for ages, unable to figure out how he’d disappeared like that. Because it hadn’t been my imagination. I’d definitely seen him get yanked back into a black hole that had vanished a split second later. Was that how passi happened? We went through some kind of black hole? Either way, why did Christopher end up on my beach? Had he been spying on me? I was leaning on the side that he hadn’t, because he’d appeared just as confused as I was. And the way he’d been yanked back... He’d looked scared, which was why I’d shouted at him, panicked something was attacking him.

  I quickly tiptoed up the L-shaped staircase, keeping to the side to avoid the squeaky plastic runner covering most of the blue carpet. At the top, I glanced through the kitchen doorway at the phone on the breakfast bar. I really wanted to ring Christopher to check if he was all right, but knew it was a bad idea. Not only was it way too early in the morning, who would answer the phone? His grandfather or father? I could just imagine what they would say to me—none of it good. Which meant I had to wait a few hours until I could see him at school, hoping that what I’d witnessed was a passe and not something more sinister.

  I rushed into the hallway that led to the bedrooms, quietly slipping into my room before my parents could catch me, not keen on explaining why I was up so early—or wet. I still hadn’t mastered how to dry off magically. One of Sister Cecile’s books had described how it was done, but it was always hit and miss with me. It worked sometimes, while other times I was left drenched—like now. I should’ve brought a change of clothes, but I wasn’t one for planning ahead, my Kiwi she’ll be right attitude going to get me into trouble one of these days.

  I removed my wet clothes and towelled off, quickly dressing in my nightie. I stuffed my wet clothes into a plastic bag and hid it under my bed, then grabbed one of Sister Cecile’s manuscripts. Snatching up my torch, I climbed into bed wi
th the book and flicked to the chapter on passi, hoping to find something that could explain what the black hole was.

  I read through the pages, growing increasingly frustrated when I couldn’t find anything about it. Just before I was about to give up, I finally stumbled on something that looked of interest:

  Often people confuse astral projections with passi. A passe is when a Merge’s soul travels through time, while astral projection is current. A passe also involves the possession of another person’s body for a short period of time, whereas astral projection is spiritual, the soul not bound by corporeal elements. When a projection is complete, the soul* is sucked back into the Merge’s body, thus extinguishing the projection. Also, while all Merges can have passi, not all can astral project. Only Seraphim, Halos, and Stellas* can achieve this state through a Halo rosary. Halo Merges start projecting from a young age, while Seraphim generally experience their first projection around their eighteenth year. Unlike Halos, Seraphim have less control over their projections, which is largely attributed to the fact that they cannot project without experiencing emotional turmoil, the fire within them igniting the out of body experience.

  *A Merge’s soul is made up of a pure energy akin to light.

  *The inclusion of Stellas is a contentious subject, due to their existence not being proven.

  I stopped reading, the part about ‘emotional turmoil’ worrying me. Again, I wondered whether Christopher was all right. Up until he’d been dragged away by the black hole, he seemed fine, albeit a touch stunned. But why did he project to where I was? And how did he even know I’d be there? Was it unintentional or did he do it on purpose? Either way, I needed to find out.

  ***

  Barking startled me awake. The book I’d been reading fell off my lap, landing on my deep blue carpet. Annoyed I’d fallen asleep, I leaned over the side of my bed and pushed the book underneath, wishing my neighbour’s dog would shut up. I’d read more about astral projection, finding out that the black hole I saw was a type of corridor, rather than something sinister. It also said that humans couldn’t see them, the phenomena only visible to supernatural beings. That last part had captured my full attention. It hadn’t just said ‘to Merges’ it had specifically said ‘to supernatural beings’, making me wonder just how many types of beings were out there.

  “Catherine!” Mum hollered from another room. “Get up!”

  Pushing out of bed, I slipped off my nightie and pulled on my bra, grabbing the first top I saw. Not paying attention to which one it was, I yanked it over my head, then shimmied into my jean skirt, stuffing my feet into my black Doc Martens. I stopped in front of my vanity mirror, all ready to prep and preen, but froze, dumbstruck by what I saw. My irises were now edged in blue, my normal hazel blending into it. I stared at the foreign colour for a while, unable to fathom what I was seeing.

  “Catherine, you’re going to be late!” Mum hollered even louder.

  Snapping out of my daze, I removed the rosary from around my neck, wondering whether it was to blame, but the blue circling my irises remained. I glanced down at the rosary, noticing the star bead had changed. Where there had been blue, there was now a fine line of hazel, the star stealing my eye colour and replacing it with its own. I examined the other stones, scrutinising each and every one of them to make sure they hadn’t changed too. Not finding anything odd with them, I slipped the rosary back over my head and settled it under my top, which I just realised was Christopher’s Black Sabbath shirt, the length much longer than mine.

  “Catherine!”

  Jolting at Mum’s voice, I snatched my school bag up as well as my sunglasses, slipping them on before heading for the kitchen. Mum was drying dishes, while Dad was nowhere in sight, probably having already left for work.

  Mum glanced over her shoulder at me with an annoyed look. “About time!” she said, sounding exasperated. She was dressed in a smart blue-grey suit, with big lapels and even bigger shoulder pads, making her waist look tiny. She was even wearing her best pearls, the Joan Collins outfit at odds with what she was doing.

  “Don’t you have servants to do that?” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  She gave me a puzzled look. “What are you on about?”

  “You look like Alexis Carrington from Dynasty.”

  A small smile pulled at her lips. “You think so?” she asked, running a hand down her skirt.

  I nodded. “Just prettier.”

  She flapped the tea towel at me, looking a lot happier than when I’d walked in, Mum a massive soap opera fan. “I made some breakfast for you, it’s on the table.” She indicated to my face. “And no sunglasses in the house, Miss Popstar.”

  “Miss Rockstar, you mean.” I dropped my bag and started pretending to play a guitar, sticking my tongue out like Gene Simmons from Kiss.

  She laughed. “Stick your tongue back in your mouth and go eat. I have an important meeting to go to.”

  I stopped playing my air guitar and swiped up my bag, heading for the table. I picked up the piece of toast without the scrambled eggs and went to leave.

  “No, Catherine, sit down and eat. I’m not in that much of a hurry.”

  “I’m not really that hungry,” I said, with my mouth full.

  “You’re not going to school without a proper breakfast, you’re already skinny as it is.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, sit and eat. I don’t make food just to throw it in the rubbish.”

  Grumbling, I slumped down in my seat and dropped the toast. I picked up the fork and knife, ready to cut into my breakfast.

  Mum appeared by my side with a tumbler of juice. “What did I tell you?”

  I looked up at her. “To eat?”

  “And to take your sunglasses off.”

  She grabbed them before I could stop her, revealing my eyes. She let out a gasp and dropped the tumbler, the glass shattering against the floor.

  Chapter 34

  Shadows crept along the metallic roofline of the classrooms as the clouds shifted slowly across the sky, almost as though they were following me. With my sunglasses now firmly back on, I walked at a snail’s pace, in no rush to get to my form room. I was nervous about seeing Christopher, and even more nervous about how he was going to react to my eyes, especially with his aversion to blue irises. Mum had freaked out bad enough, I didn’t need him flipping out too. She’d rung the doctor, getting in even more of a flap when she couldn’t get an appointment with our normal GP. Luckily, the receptionist calmed her down, promising an appointment for later on in the day with another doctor. Regardless, she’d insisted on driving me to school, forcing me to read every single sign along the way as though she was an optometrist asking me to read the last line on an eye chart.

  A rowdy bunch of boys pushed past me, jostling me closer to the benches framing the tech rooms. As I reached the Science quad, I entered the corridor that led to my form room, following some classmates inside. I stopped a few feet away from where Christopher was sitting. He was back at the front of the class, hunched over an exercise book, stabbing at it with a pen as if it was a voodoo doll of Mr. Stanton. But even though he looked in a foul mood, I was still relieved to see him. Sister Cecile’s manuscript might have reassured me he was all right, but I hadn’t realised just how much I needed to see him in person to reinforce that.

  He looked up at me, his foul mood instantly disappearing as though I’d chased it away. He flashed a perfect set of pearly whites, the guy a dentist’s wet dream. Unable to help myself, I smiled back, more than a little tempted to sit on his lap and kiss him all over his beautiful face.

  Mr. Stanton’s booming voice stomped all over my fantasy, the man almost making me jump out of my Doc Martens. I spun around, coming face to face with Boss Hogg, wishing I could tell the short, pudgy teacher where to get off.

  “Catherine, go to the back of the room.”

  Clenching my hands so I didn’t give him the finger, I headed for the seat that Stephen was holding out like a smug
twat.

  “And, Catherine, you’re not Bono,” Mr. Stanton added, “so take those sunglasses off.”

  I sat down and slipped them off, letting my hair fall down to hide my face. Stephen nudged me, sliding a piece of paper on my desk. I went to screw it up, but stopped just short, the beautiful handwriting on it nothing like Stephen’s caveman scrawl. I quickly slipped the note onto my lap and read it:

  Fifteen minutes into your second class, use the restroom excuse and meet me in the small art room.

  Christopher’s signature was scrawled underneath. Praying he didn’t react badly to my eyes, I slipped the note into my pocket, now waiting nervously for my second class.

  ***

  My history teacher nodded at my request, allowing me to go to the restroom. But instead, I made a beeline for the small art room. I opened the door, almost colliding with Rodney as he shot out of it like a rocket, the meek boy disappearing down the corridor before I could blink. Wondering what his problem was, I stepped inside the room, finding out a second later. I squealed as Christopher yanked me to him and slammed the door shut behind me.

  He crowded me up against the door with his body. Not knowing what the hell was going on, I went to push him away, but instead let out an embarrassing squeak as he bit my earlobe.

  “Missed you,” he said, flicking his tongue over where he’d bitten.

  All the fight went out of me, his aggression no longer frightening. Instead, he was making my insides turn to Jell-O, the guy so hard to resist. Regardless, I needed to know why he’d been watching me at the beach before I could give into my cravings.

  “Why would you miss me?” I rasped, the pressure from his body making it hard to keep my hands to myself. “You’ve seen me in your dreams.”

  He chuckled. “A very wet dream.”

  “Why were you there?”

  “I think the Halo rosary sent me, but I don’t know why.” He pulled back to look at me, his sexy smile dropping at the sight of my eyes. “Che cazzo...”