Stella Maris (The Legendary Rosaries) Page 26

  I had no idea what he’d said, other than it obviously wasn’t good. “Yeah, they freaked me out too,” I replied, hoping things weren’t going to go downhill from here.

  He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, the colour of my irises rendering him speechless.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” I said, growing more and more nervous. “Maybe start ranting that I’m a Maris?”

  “You’re not one,” he finally answered.

  “Then why do you look so scared? I’m still the same person, regardless of what colour eyes I have.”

  “I’m not scared, it’s just... How?” He indicated to my eyes. “How are they like that?”

  “My rosary. I’ve been using it a lot, practising every day.” I glanced at his chest, the bumps under his shirt suggesting he was wearing his rosary too. An idea popped into my head, one that could possibly get rid of the blue circling my irises.

  “Will my eyes change if I use your rosary?” I asked.

  His stunned expression didn’t alter. “You already have brown in your eyes.”

  “No, I meant would it get rid of the blue?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Then can I practice with yours?”

  “I already told you no—” He cut himself off, his expression suddenly brightening. “Actually, why not? But only if you let me wear yours.”

  “But you said they’d hurt you.”

  “They didn’t the last time I touched them, plus I’ll put on the Halo rosary, which should render the Maris one harmless.” He removed the Halo rosary from his pocket and slipped it on. His body instantly lit up with a full body halo instead of the partial halo from the reserve. It reminded me of the saints in a few medieval artworks from our Art History class—just a thousand times more beautiful.

  He pulled his red rosary off and held it out for me to take.

  “Are you positive it’ll be all right?” I asked, not sure whether I should give him mine, still worried it could hurt him.

  He nodded. “If you wear mine, it’s only fair I wear yours.”

  “No, I mean, will it be safe?”

  “Sì,” he said, touching the Halo rosary as though it was proof that nothing bad would happen to him.

  I removed the Maris rosary from around my neck and held it out for him to take, hoping he knew what he was doing. He handed his one over, but didn’t make a move to take mine.

  “You going to take it or not?” I asked, confused by his conflicting behaviour.

  “Put it on me,” he said.

  “You sure? Because you look like you’re about to crap yourself.”

  He scowled at me. “I’m fine.”

  “You could’ve fooled me.”

  “Just put it on!”

  “Whoa! Rein it in, Cujo.”

  “I wouldn’t have barked if you didn’t keep questioning me.”

  “Because you’re acting weird.”

  “Only because I’m nervous, but I still want to try them on.”

  I exhaled. “Fine.” I went to place it over his head, not surprised when he flinched. I lowered the rosary. “Why do you want to try it on if you think it’s going to hurt you?”

  “I need to prove something.”

  “What?”

  “It’s personal, so just do it quick.”

  “How about you close your eyes?”

  He nodded, instantly closing them.

  I quickly slipped the rosary over his head, placing it against his shirt. The beads didn’t do a thing to him, other than extinguishing the Halo rosary’s glow.

  He exhaled loudly, sounding like he’d been holding his breath. I popped his rosary over my head as he opened his eyes.

  “Merda,” he said, looking down at his chest. “I really thought it was going to kill me.” He looked back up at me, a smile spreading across his face. He indicated to my chest, his rosary vibrating slightly against my shirt. “I was right about you being a Stella, otherwise it would’ve burnt you if you were a Maris.”

  My eyes widened. “You could’ve told me that before I put it on!”

  “You would’ve only scolded your fingers, so no big deal. Plus, I would’ve healed it with the Halo rosary.”

  “Nice to know,” I said, sarcastically.

  “Sheesh, don’t be a baby.”

  “A baby, eh? Who’s the one who looked like he was going to piss his pants before?”

  “You’re a Stella, so you have no reason to be scared, while me? Putting this on,” he said, touching my rosary, “would’ve killed me if I wasn’t wearing the Halo rosary. Do you remember that time I touched it briefly in the hallway?”

  I nodded.

  “I felt like I’d touched nitro-glycerine. It stung like hell just from the briefest of touches.”

  “Which is why I don’t understand why you wanted to try it on.”

  “It didn’t hurt me when I touched it at Buckland’s Reserve. I was hoping it would do the same now it knows I’m not a danger to you.”

  “Oh, you’re definitely a danger to me,” I said, placing my hands on his hips, happy he didn’t move away this time.

  He laughed, the sound warming me from the inside out. I went to kiss him, but he took a step back, making my smile drop.

  “You don’t want to kiss me now I have blue in my eyes?” I asked, upset.

  He laughed again. “No, I wanted to talk about the rosaries.”

  “We can still talk about them after we kiss, so stop laughing.”

  “Not the way you kiss, babe. I’ll be flat on my back in a second, with your tongue down my throat.”

  I placed my hands on my hips. “Oh, is that so, Mr. Feel-My-Boobs-Up?”

  His eyes dropped to my chest, giving me the impression he wanted to live up to that name.

  “My eyes are up here, mate,” I said, indicating to them.

  “While my eyes are down here,” he said, still staring at my boobs. “Actually,” he looked back up. “Stuff the rosaries, give me that kiss.” He stepped closer to me.

  I backed up. “A moment ago you didn’t want it, what makes you think I’ll give you one now?” I teased.

  He cocked his head to the side. “You will.”

  “Is that right, Mr. Cocky.”

  Smirking, he placed his hand over his crotch. “Mr. Big Cock-y to you.”

  I snorted out a laugh. “I need proof first.”

  “If you insist.” He took hold of his zipper.

  “No!” I said, not expecting him to actually show me.

  He dropped his hand, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “I knew you’d chicken out.”

  I grunted at him. “There’s no chickening out, you took a joke seriously and we’re here for the rosaries, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “You didn’t seem to care about them when you wanted a kiss.”

  “That was before you tried to expose yourself, you dirty pervert.”

  He snorted out a laugh. “I’m a dirty pervert? Who’s the one who said she needed proof?”

  “I didn’t think you’d actually show me!”

  “No, you’re all talk and no follow through.”

  “Shut up!”

  He laughed again.

  Desperate to change the topic, I placed my hand over the Seraphim rosary. “How do I create flames?”

  He cocked a brow. “Can’t handle the conversation, so you change the topic?”

  “How do I create flames?” I repeated, having no intention of falling for his baiting.

  He winked at me, looking smug, probably thinking he’d won our little battle. “Sometimes I just think about it and the flames come alive. Other times I don’t even think and it just happens. It’s innate for me, second nature. I don’t even have to be wearing them, as long as they’re next to me.”

  “I’m going to give it a try.” I closed my eyes, imagining flames tickling my fingertips, disappointed when nothing happened. I tried again, this time really concentrating.

  He laughed.


  I opened my eyes. “What?!”

  “You looked constipated.”

  “I was trying to make them work,” I grunted.

  “More like you were trying to take a merda.”

  “A murder?” I asked, confused.

  He grinned. “Merda is Italian for shit.”

  “God, you’re such a prick,” I said, whipping his rosary off, annoyed it didn’t work for me. Unlike the Maris rosary, which called to me, I felt stuff all for his rosary, the slight vibration coming from it not enough proof it was of any use to me.

  I held it out for him to take back. He went to take it, but hesitated, his gaze going to the door.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, glancing back at it, worried someone was about to burst through.

  “Can I see you on Saturday?”

  When I was sure no one was going to walk in on us, I returned my attention to him. “I’m still grounded.”

  “Get Nicky to cover for you. Tell your mother that you two need to study.”

  “We don’t have any classes together. I do art and history, while she does music and drama.”

  “Say you have to do drawings of different profiles or something, and that Nicky’s volunteered to help you out. Ask her to drop you off at Nicky’s house, then get Nicky to drive you to Boyd’s Reserve. I’ll meet you at the old red boatshed on Boyd’s Beach.”

  “Okay,” I replied, thrilled that he wanted to see me so bad. I held his rosary out again for him to take.

  “I thought you wanted to keep it,” he said.

  “I didn’t think you’d let me,” I replied, a touch surprised.

  He shrugged. “Maybe we can do a swap for a week, see how it goes.”

  I hesitated, wondering whether I could give the fire beads another try. “No,” I finally decided, something telling me not to leave without my rosary. “I’d rather have mine.”

  “But you said—”

  “I’d like to try yours, but not give up mine for it.”

  “Fine,” he grunted, returning my rosary, albeit begrudgingly.

  I returned his too, relieved when mine was back around my neck. Looking upset, he stuffed both the Seraphim and Halo rosaries into his jeans.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  He dropped his gaze. “I don’t like having to sneak around to see you,” he said, the vulnerability coming off him in waves, so different from his cockiness only moments ago. It made me want to melt into him.

  “I don’t like it either,” I replied, “but it won’t be like this forever.”

  His chocolate-brown gaze flicked back up to me, his expression surprised. “You want to be with me forever?”

  I laughed softly. “Not yet, Casanova. I hardly know you, but I do want to get to know you.”

  His frown returned.

  “Is that not what you want?” I asked, hoping he wanted to get to know me more too.

  “Of course it’s what I want.”

  I smiled and leaned forward, giving him a kiss, thinking I could get used to this, his lips like pillows, so soft and lovely. He kissed me back passionately, wrapping his arms around me, my arms automatically doing the same to him. He pulled me flush against his body, hugging me tight, making me gasp with excitement, Christopher rock hard.

  He quickly pulled away, breaking our kiss. “I’ve got to go,” he stammered.

  Turning to the door, he disappeared out it as if a demon was on his heels. With my heart pounding and my face on fire, I watched the door slam shut behind him.

  Chapter 35

  ~ CHRISTOPHER ~

  Saturday the 24th of June, 1989

  I stared up at my bedroom ceiling, knowing today was the day I had to steal Catherine’s rosary, something I’d chickened out on earlier in the week. But I couldn’t just steal it in front of her like that, I had to do it without her realising what I was up to. And now that I knew the beads wouldn’t harm me, I could take them without fear.

  I continued to stare at the ceiling until the sweet smell of bacon crept under my bedroom door, making my stomach growl. Reluctantly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and swiped up a black shirt as I rose. I pulled it on, along with the pair of jeans containing the rosaries, then headed for the dining room, dragging my bare feet along the way, not relishing seeing my family today—or any day, the tension between us having grown unbearable.

  They all looked up from the dining table as I walked through the doorway. Refraining from grimacing at them, I slumped into my seat and stared down at my plate of bacon, eggs, and mushrooms, suddenly losing my appetite.

  “You should eat,” my grandfather said. “You have an important day ahead of you. So … have you thought about how you’re going to get the rosary off the girl?”

  “Her name isn’t the girl,” I snapped back. “And it’s none of your damn business.”

  “Don’t speak to your nonno like that!” my father bellowed. “Apologise and answer his question.”

  A sneer pulled at my lips, my father having that effect on me of late. “He doesn’t need to know how I’m going to get it, just that I’ll get it, and if you think I’m going to apologise to someone who thinks it’s all right to kill innocent people, puoi andare a farti fottere.”

  Both my father and grandfather bolted out of their chairs, without a doubt priming to smack me across the head for what I’d said.

  My mother shot in front of me. “You’re not to lay a hand on him!” she shouted at them. “It won’t do any good, all it’ll do is push us further apart.”

  Papà furiously waved a hand at me. “He just told me to go get fucked!”

  “I’m not excusing what he said, but I won’t have either of you hurt him, especially you, Antonio. I thought you’d learned from the last time.”

  “He keeps pushing me!”

  “While you two are pushing him to do something he doesn’t want to do. Show some compassion.”

  “Compassion?” my grandfather cut in. “What compassion is he showing me? I need that rosary or that girl will attack me with it, possibly even killing me.”

  “How many times do I have to say she doesn’t want to kill you,” I snapped. “She wants nothing to do with you.”

  “My premonition says different!”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s because you go after her. So leave her alone!”

  He grimaced at me. “I will ... as long as you get me her rosary.”

  Chapter 36

  ~ CATHERINE ~

  I felt uncomfortable lying to Mum about going to Nicky’s house, which I didn’t understand since I’d snuck out loads of times to do other things. Just… for some reason doing it for Christopher felt different. It also didn’t help that Mum was complimenting me on how good I’d been since the park ranger incident, saying she trusted me enough to walk to Nicky’s house. Which was what I was doing right now, Nicky’s place about fifteen minutes away from mine.

  The breeze picked up, stirring winter leaves across the walkway, a drop of water landing on my nose. I looked up at the sky, unconcerned with the large rain clouds forming overhead. If anything, I liked it when it rained, always had. While people ran for cover, I always walked at my normal pace, wet clothes a small price to pay.

  Rounding the corner onto Bayfield Drive, I cut through its primary school and onto Angelo Avenue, where Nicky lived in a small brick-and-tile house with her parents and brother. Just as I knocked on her front door, a heavy layer of rain descended over the area, the overhang above Nicky’s door stopping me from getting wet.

  Footsteps approached the other side. The door pulled open, revealing Nicky, her hair for once looking like it belonged to a normal person, no hair gel or hair spray in sight. Her red curls were hanging loosely around her shoulders, framing her grinning face, which was as fresh as a new born baby’s.

  “Looks like you beat the rain,” she said, glancing down at my dry jeans and shirt. “I’ll just grab my keys, then we can head out to the reserve.”

  I followed her i
nside, the entrance leading onto a small lounge. It had lemon-coloured walls, an aqua-green couch, an aquarium filled with colourful fish, and a dark brick fireplace.

  “Where are your fam?” I asked.

  Nicky grabbed her bag and keys off the coffee table. “Gone to my brother’s soccer match.” She ushered me out of the house and locked up, then ran for her Mini, squealing at the rain.

  I walked around the other side of the yellow Mini and climbed in. It reminded me of the car from Goodbye Pork Pie, though I didn’t think it would make it out of Auckland, let alone all the way to Invercargill, the car a right bomb.

  Nicky gave me a scolding look. “You could have at least run so you didn’t get my seat wet.”

  “It’s only damp, so chill.”

  She scowled at me, but instead of complaining more, she started up the engine. The car spluttered to life, sounding like a chain-smoking asthmatic with emphysema. She’d bought it with all of her savings from her part-time job. She reversed out of the driveway and swung the little car around, exiting Angelo Avenue.

  “How’s it going with Stephen?” I asked, the two—shock horror—still dating.

  “Not great.” Nicky grimaced. “I keep catching him flirting with other girls. He apologises every time, but then he’s back at it. It makes me feel like he’s just with me until he finds someone better.”

  “More like, you should be looking for someone better. I don’t understand what you see in that douchebag.”

  Her pixie face crinkled up with annoyance. “He’s not a douchebag, so stop calling him names, Catherine. You know how I feel about him, plus you don’t have a right to criticise him after all the trouble Chris has gotten you into,” she said, her bright pink fingernails digging into the steering wheel.

  “At least Chris is faithful,” I replied without thought, instantly regretting what I’d said.

  Nicky yanked the steering wheel sharply to the left, pulling over to the kerb. She practically ripped the handbrake out before turning to glare at me.

  “Stephen is faithful! Just because he flirts doesn’t mean he’s cheating. It’s just flirting.”

  “Are you sure, Nicky?” I said, knowing full well what Stephen was like. “Because he still comes on to me.”

  Her green eyes flashed angrily. “When does he flirt with you?”