~ CATHERINE ~
Friday the 2nd of June, 1989
I swung my legs out of bed and sat up, gingerly touching the back of my head, the bandage now gone. The bump and bruise were much worse than the cut, which had healed quickly to the surprise of the doctor. I’d returned home from the hospital yesterday, practically sleeping the day away. But this morning, I felt a bit better, my head at least not killing me.
“It’s seven-thirty. Get up!” Mum yelled from the kitchen, causing me to wince, my head still not able to handle yelling.
I shuffled over to my wardrobe and grabbed a pair of jeans, pulling them on along with my Guns N’ Roses shirt. I stuffed my feet into a pair of runners and grabbed my bag, not caring about the bird’s nest called my hair. I headed out of my room, aiming for the staircase, calling out a “Catcha later!” to my mum, realising a second later I shouldn’t have shouted. I winced again, hoping my head wasn’t going to hurt all day.
Halfway down the staircase, Mum shouted my name. I stopped and looked up through the balustrades, watching as she walked over to the top of the staircase. She placed her hands on her hips and levelled me with one of her what-do-you-think-you’re-doing, young-lady? stares. She was wearing her pink dressing gown and one hell of an annoyed look on her face.
“I’m going to school,” I said, knowing I was pushing my luck, the doctor having told me to stay home for the rest of the week. “And you did tell me to get up.”
She shook her head at me. “I was calling for your father, not you, so get back to bed.”
“But I’m fine,” I lied, my head telling me another story.
Dad lumbered out of the passageway that led to the bedrooms, dressed in a grey robe and a grouchy expression, muttering, “It’s too early to be shouting.” His brown hair was a crazy mess while his face was unshaven, the dark stubble peppering his strong jawline. He was in his early forties, but was grumpier than an old man with haemorrhoids when he was tired.
Mum ignored him as he headed for the kitchen. “You’re not fine, Catherine, you got hit by a car.”
Dad backed up, his eyes going to me, his sleepy expression instantly clearing. “Where are you going?” he asked, obviously not having paid attention before. Unlike Mum, who was born in New Zealand, he had a heavy Yugoslav accent, due to growing up in Korčula—an island off the Dalmatian Coast. Well, actually, I didn’t think it was that heavy. It was Nicky who went on about it, often asking me what he said.
“School,” I lied, having no intention of going there. “And the doctor said I was fine to go back today.”
“No, he said next week,” Mum butted in.
“Nah ah, he said I can go back as long as I feel better. And I do feel better,” I emphasised, giving them a big smile, my performance deserving of an Oscar. “I’ll also go stir crazy if I stay at home. And it’s not like I broke anything, only knocked my head.”
“You were knocked unconscious,” Mum said. “That’s not an only.”
“The doctor discharged me. That’s proof I’m all better.” I indicated to my dad. “I even look better than Dad. You’d think he was the one knocked unconscious.”
“Hey!” Dad barked. “Don’t be cheeky.”
I gave him a smile, even though his voice had upped my headache another five thousand notches.
He shook his head at me, then disappeared into the kitchen, mumbling, “I need coffee.”
“While I don’t,” I said, smiling at Mum, “because I’m all better.”
“No, that’s because you’re allergic to coffee.”
“Still all better. And you’d wrap me up in cotton wool for the rest of my life if you could.”
Mum frowned, looking like she wanted to do just that.
“So, can I go?”
“I suppose if I hurry, I could drop you off,” she said.
“I’d rather cycle.”
“But—”
“Mum, I’m fine, I really am.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Stop trying to coddle me, I’m not Vesna!” I snapped, instantly regretting my outburst, the look on her face cutting me deep. “I’m sorry,” I quickly added, my heart pounding a mile a minute. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
She turned her head away from me and lifted a hand to shield her face, making me feel even worse. I ran up the stairs and wrapped my arms around her, giving her a big hug. She sniffled and returned my hug.
“I’m scared,” she said.
“I know, but I really am better. And the doctor did say I could go back if I felt better.”
She exhaled loudly. “Okay.” She let go of me and wiped her eyes.
“Thanks, Mum, and I’m so sorry.”
“No, you’re right, I’m being paranoid. Just...” She worried her lip between her teeth, the concern on her face clear as day. “Look both ways when you cross the road, make sure there are absolutely no cars.”
I wasn’t run over. Reprebus lifted me off the ground with magic powers and flung me backwards. As if I could tell her that!
“’Kay, I promise to look both ways,” I replied instead, definitely not going to tell her about Reprebus. And even if I did point the finger at Christopher’s grandfather, the police wouldn’t be able to help me against someone with supernatural powers.
But Sister Cecile could.
“Where’d you put the coffee?” Dad yelled from the kitchen.
Mum glanced back at the kitchen doorway. “It’s where it always is.”
“No, it’s not,” he replied. “And you didn’t tell me you made cake.”
Her eyes widened. She rushed into the kitchen, shouting, “No, Vedran! Put that cake down, it’s for my ladies’ group.”
Seeing my opportunity to escape, I took off downstairs, heading for my bike.
***
I knocked on Sister Cecile’s door, shifting back and forth on my toes, anxious to see the old nun. Shuffled footsteps approached the other side. The door opened, revealing a surprised-looking Sister Cecile, dressed in her navy-blue habit.
“Aren’t you meant to be at school?” she asked, her cloudy blue gaze taking in what I was wearing as though it wasn’t good enough to grace her holier-than-thou presence. It was just jeans and a shirt, not hot pants and a crop top. Sheesh! I seriously wanted to ask what century she was born in, but didn’t want to risk her sending me away. She had all the answers, and I had more than enough questions to last a lifetime.
“Talking to you is more important than school,” I said.
Her stern expression didn’t let up. “I thought you never wanted to talk to me again. You basically blamed me for your sister’s death.”
I grimaced. “Well, since I was almost murdered two days ago, I’m not quite blaming you anymore.”
Her eyes widened. “What happened?”
“Can I tell you inside?”
“Of course.” She shuffled aside.
I stepped inside her house, Sister Cecile closing the door behind me.
“So, what happened?” she asked.
I turned to her. “Reprebus attacked me. He flung me backwards, knocking me unconscious.”
Her hand shot to her mouth. “Did you report him to the police?”
“No.”
“You should.”
“Um, what exactly would I tell them? That he forced me to walk to him against my will with some sort of Jedi mind trick? They’ll think I’m a nut job. Sorry, but I prefer T-shirts over straightjackets. And it’s not like they can keep him locked up. He’ll just use his Jedi mind tricks to get out.”
“What’s a Jedi mind trick?”
I waved my hand up in the air. “Star Wars.”
She stared at me, looking confused. “The Stellas didn’t have their own war, it was the Angel and Demon war.”
“I didn’t mean it literally,” I said, the nun obviously not up with pop culture. “I meant he was controlling my mind, forcing me against my will to go to him. Then he froze me. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t even move my head. It was the same in the first dream I had.”
Sister Cecile took hold of my hands, upset warring across her face. “Tell me everything.”
I pulled my hands free, only needing her help, not comfort. “I think he used his rosary beads to draw me out of school. One second I was heading for the gym, the next I was walking off school grounds. It wasn’t until I saw him that I realised I was being forced. When I tried to turn back, he used his Jedi magic to direct me to him. Actually... he’s a bad dude, so it’d be Sith magic.”
She stared at me blankly.
I continued, “Either way, I literally couldn’t do a thing against him.”
“How did you get away?”
“Chris Laboure saved me.”
Her brows pulled together. “Didn’t you say that boy was his grandson? Why would he help you?”
“He didn’t want his grandfather hurting me,” I replied, grateful for everything Christopher had done. I wondered how he was doing now, especially after he’d defied his grandfather.
“Why?” she asked, looking puzzled.
“He likes me. He argued with his grandfather, even throwing a fireball at a house to create a disturbance so his grandfather would leave. But Reprebus got mad and flung me backwards. I hit my head against the road and was knocked unconscious. Apparently, Chris carried me to the sickbay.”
Sister Cecile rubbed her wrinkled face, her expression distraught. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“You had no part in this. I didn’t even have the rosary, so you shouldn’t feel bad. This is all on Reprebus. I just...” I exhaled. “I know I said I didn’t want to see you again, but I don’t know what to do. I can’t tell my parents the truth about the accident, or about any of this. They’ll think I got some crazy knocked into me. If anything, I should run, because if I stay here, Reprebus will come after me again. But I don’t want to leave my parents. They’ve already lost one daughter, but if I stay, they may lose another. I feel trapped.”
Sister Cecile dropped her hand, her expression turning resolute. “You can’t run, he’ll come after you now he’s had a lock on you. All you can do is minimise the possibilities for him to attack. Which means you can’t go out alone. If there’s someone else around, he won’t strike. That’s why he left when his grandson broke the shielding spell.”
“Shielding spell?”
“It’s something Merges use to stop the human world from impeding upon ours. Once a shielding spell is cast, no human will see you, unless damage to their property occurs. Impede on their territory and they’ll impede on ours, whether knowingly or not.”
“How does this shielding spell work?”
“The right words and a connection to the right bead. It’ll take you to another plane of existence that only a Merge can see.”
“So, it’s not actually a shield, per se?”
“The in-between world is the shield. You’re still on the same staircase, but a step higher.”
“A step isn’t far.”
“For you and me it may be small, but for humans it’s the size of Mount Everest. They can only see the physical, not the spiritual.”
“That doesn’t make sense, because I couldn’t see them either. I also couldn’t hear any birds or traffic. It was like someone had pressed the mute button.”
“I just told you it’s on another plane. You can also compare it to a frozen pocket in time, where only Merges can inhabit. You can spend hours there, yet not even a second will pass for humans.”
“It still doesn’t make sense. I should be able to see normal people if I can see their houses. They built them, they live in them, they should be there, looking out their windows at us, windows they made.”
“Houses and their surroundings are part of the same structure, part of the metaphorical staircase. Like a backdrop that will remain no matter how many steps you take, unless of course you go so far that you leave the earthly realm.”
I stared at her, wondering whether she was even hearing what she was saying. “Structures, planes, staircases, earthly realms, it all sounds like a load of bollocks to me. Just tell me the real reason I couldn’t see birds and normal people, because you lot definitely ain’t normal.”
“Stop talking!” she snapped, her face turning red.
“But I want to understand,” I said, realising I shouldn’t have said bollocks to a nun.
“And I want you to stop talking like a foulmouthed sailor. I do not appreciate it.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said bo...” I cut myself off just in time, Sister Cecile seriously looking like she was going to blow her stack. “Please, just put things in simple terms so I can understand.”
“You need faith to understand and you apparently have none.”
I made a spiffing sound. “All you religious people use the excuse of faith when you can’t explain things.”
“I explained it to you, but you refuse to listen.”
“Listening and understanding are two different things. Plus, your explanations don’t make sense. There are inconsistencies.”
“You have absolutely no manners!” she barked out, looking furious with me.
“I’m not being rude, I’m trying to learn here, which I won’t do if I just nod my head and agree with everything you say.”
She grumbled under her breath, the witch probably putting a hex on me.
“So, can you explain it in a way that I can understand?” I asked.
She threw me a glare.
“Please,” I added.
“No, that’s quite enough talk about the shielding spell, it’s not important. What’s important is keeping you safe. The best thing to do is what I said: avoid going out alone. Also, I want you to come to my house after school every day. Get someone to drop you off. If they ask why, just say it’s to do with confirmation, which isn’t a lie, considering you’ll be reaffirming your faith through the lessons I’ll be giving you, they just won’t know it’ll be a Merge’s confirmation.”
I went to tell her I needed to have faith to reaffirm it, but instead said, “What kind of lessons?” knowing I was already pushing my luck.
“I know you don’t want the rosary, but you have no choice but to take it now. I’ll teach you how to use it to protect yourself. What my father did to you, forcing you to walk to him, is a simple incantation that can be blocked with the Maris rosary. If you’d been wearing it, he wouldn’t have been able to get to you so easily. I’ll teach you this along with everything else I know.”
“Fine,” I said, fully aware there was no escaping the rosary now, plus I was kind of curious with what she was going to teach me.
She exhaled, looking relieved that I was accepting her offer instead of mouthing off. “I cannot use the rosary anymore, and even when I could, my innate power was weak, but I have enough knowledge to teach you.”
“I’ll take whatever you can give me,” I replied.
“Good, but not now. After school.”
“Learning to protect myself is more important than going to school.”
“I have a funeral I must attend, along with a few other things. Just stay in a crowd, never alone. I’ll also pick you up after school, since you can’t arrange anything this quick. And, Catherine...”
“Yes?”
“Always wear the Maris rosary.” She shuffled over to the mantelpiece, removing the rosary from its box. She shuffled back to me, holding it out.
I took the rosary and slipped it over my head, pushing it under my Guns N’ Roses shirt.
Sister Cecile picked up her keys and purse, indicating to the door. “Let’s go.”
“But what about my bike?”
“Leave it here. I don’t want you out alone.”
I nodded and followed her to her car, not wanting to be alone either.