Monster in Disguise

9. Marcello

Marcello

A FEW HOURS BEFORE

M y aversion to touch cannot be pinpointed to a single point in time, although there was one specific event that might have triggered it. Maybe it all started in childhood. There is a study that proved infants who have close physical contact with their mothers grow up to be better-adjusted individuals than those who lack a mother figure. I belong to the latter category.

It wasn't hard to find out what had happened at my birth—the staff always gossiped. My mother had taken one look at me and declared me a sinner. She'd said that an infinite number of baptisms could not cleanse my soul. Father had, of course, relished the thought that a son of his would be the devil incarnate. And so he'd done everything in his power to strip the humanity from me. My mother had either kept her distance or abused me for the sinner I was.

It all converged to a single event that proved to be my breaking point. And so, from then on, I'd developed a phobia of touch. Although my phobia applies to everyone, it is especially traumatic when the person in question is a woman. And so, for the past decade, I've avoided all interactions with the opposite sex.

Even at work, people assumed I was gay simply because I kept a respectful distance from all the ladies in the office. And now I have to get married... likely to an eighteen-year-old. The thought of it makes me ill.

That's not to say that there have been no accidental touches throughout the years; it's practically impossible to live completely isolated. But each one of those touches caused me physical pain and so much mental anguish that I needed time to recover. Aside from that, I want to believe that I adjusted well enough to live in society as a normal being—or as normal as I can ever be.

"Someone's here to see you, Signore." Amelia's voice startles me out of my thoughts. I remove my glasses and rub my temples, trying to relieve the tension there.

"Show them in."

In strolls Vlad, his cocky grin in place as he plops down on the chair across from me.

"Marcello." He greets me with a smirk, audibly chewing gum between words.

"What brings you here?" I ask, already knowing that Vlad wouldn't visit without a purpose. We had been trying to unravel the mystery behind the recent attack, but according to him, both Quinn and Matthew Gallagher had disappeared after Jimenez's death.

"Not much, same old stuff." He shrugs nonchalantly, his eyes darting towards the clock behind me.

"And what does that entail?" Getting information out of Vlad is like pulling teeth.

"You know," he adds innocently. "Ortega's cartel teaming up with an MC chapter, Quinn returning to town... nothing new."

"But you said there were no signs of Quinn."

"Did I? Well, there are now. My sources say he's gearing up for a big fight. They've even added more arenas in the Bronx."

"And you didn't think that was worth mentioning?"

"I'm not concerned about Quinn. He's like a machine, but not a very smart one. His father, however? Haven't seen him since the Agosti attack. Now if we could get some intel on him, that would be a real development." Vlad leans back in the chair, wearing a relaxed expression that conceals his true intentions. His acting skills are top-notch; it's hard to see beyond his facade.

"My people want revenge for our losses," I remind him.

"And you think I don't want the same?" Vlad asks, feigned offense coloring his tone.

"I don't know what you want. Actually, why did you come here?"

"Marcello, Marcello, must you always be so rude to your guests? No wonder people can't stand your grumpy attitude." Vlad shakes his head in mock disappointment.

"Cut to the chase, Vlad."

"Hmm..." He studies me for a second. "You've made the correct choice to assume your role as capo... and so you will reap the benefits."

Furrowing my brow in confusion, I ask, "What are you talking about?"

"The thing you've desired most... it's almost within your grasp," Vlad says cryptically before rising from his seat and striding towards the library. The way he moves is fluid and confident, like a predator on the hunt. "There was a recent death."

"Chimera?" I interject, finally understanding why he has come to me personally.

"Yes. Saratoga Springs."

"What? That's..." My words trail off as the weight of the situation hits me.

"It's getting closer and closer, faster than before. If this were a normal serial killer, I'd say their cooling-off period is decreasing. But we both know this person is not ordinary."

"What are the police saying?"

"No prints, no evidence to speak of. The locations are chosen so chaotically that they can't establish a pattern."

"So nothing." Vlad nods in agreement.

"But we have something they don't. Motive."

"You've mentioned before that you believe this killer is after me. But I cannot fathom who it may be."

"Think, Marcello. There must be someone."

"There were countless individuals, Vlad." I shake my head, feeling overwhelmed and helpless. Trying to remember would only lead to more pain and frustration.

"This Chimera, whoever they may be, knows every detail of the real Chimera's methods. Unfortunately, I cannot assist you if you do not help yourself." Vlad sighs and tosses a file onto my desk.

"Perhaps something in there will trigger your memory."

With a mocking salute, Vlad exits the room with purpose.

I stare at the file in front of me, almost not daring to open it. When I finally do, however, it's to see my biggest nightmare staring me in the face.

There are pictures of the crime scene in Saratoga Springs. Chimera always left behind a signature, to show that the boogie man was in town. The original Chimera would assemble the teeth of its victim in the form of the letter C.

This Chimera seems to have deviated from that, ever so slightly. Although he'd stuck faithfully to script until now, it seems this copycat is trying to leave his own mark in a way. There is still the letter C, but this time it is assembled in a big, showy way using the ribs of the deceased.

The victim, a man it seems, is cut in half. His torso is set on a table in the middle of the room—the centerpiece. The chest cavity is empty of its organs. Instead...

I can't help but avert my eyes.

A dead baby is curled up in a fetal position within the man's chest cavity, where his other organs would have been. Simulating an in-womb death, the baby is strangulated by the man's intestines—probably used instead of an umbilical cord.

I can't look anymore. I throw the papers on my desk and close my eyes for a second, trying to think of something else.

But as much as I want to, I can't.

Because ultimately it is my fault these people are dead; my fault that this copycat has something to prove.

It's always my fault.

Things have been calmer in the famiglia as of late. Francesco has been monitoring the activity and has been giving me daily reports. Nicolo seems to have swallowed his pride for now, but I wouldn't put it past him to be plotting something. It's just as well that the alliance with the Agosti is almost completed. Just a moment ago I'd received a call from Enzo that he had something to discuss with me and that he has a candidate in mind for me. We scheduled the meeting for after noon.

In the meantime, I have to review the files for the governesses that Amelia had vetted for an interview. After the disaster with the first governess who'd gone as far as to call Venezia mentally impaired for her lack of formal education, I'd decided to vet each candidate myself. There are ten in total that seem to have the qualifications. Of course, on paper even the last one had looked spectacular, but her attitude towards Venezia had been abysmal. I cross-reference their availability with my schedule and decide to see them starting next week. By then, I should be done with most of the urgent things within the famiglia.

Once I've allotted a time for each candidate, I give the list back to Amelia.

"You won't stay for lunch?" she asks when she sees me heading for the door.

"I have a meeting. Tell Venezia I'll see her at dinner." Amelia grunts, but it's obvious she's none too pleased with that. I can't exactly blame her, since I have not been entirely too present in the house ever since I'd moved in. My interactions with Venezia had been limited. Amelia had been adamant to remind me every single time how neglected the girl had been and how much she needs some attention.

Her suggestions haven't fallen on deaf ears, but right now time is of the essence for me too. I have to solidify my position in the famiglia, and that requires meetings upon meetings. When I get some time by myself, I have to review business plans and strategies. It doesn't exactly leave too much time to spend with Venezia.

I'd promised myself I'd deal with that, though.

I get in my car and start the ignition. Enzo's house is not too far off. I look at my watch and see I can take my time.

I can't help but think back to my friend, Adrian. I'd tried to get some updates from Vlad, since I know he still talks to Bianca, but so far he hasn't been too forthcoming.

Whenever I ask, he just tells me he has not woken up yet. Even when he recovers, I don't know what I can say to him. I take full accountability for my part in betraying his trust, and I don't see how he'd ever be able to forgive me for something like that. But I still want to explain my side of the story; be honest for the first time in my life with someone.

I shake myself from my musings and park my car, having already reached my destination. Inside, a maid takes me to Enzo's office.

Enzo's presence is grim as I greet him with a nod. He offers me a drink, but I decline. Pouring one for himself, he brings it to his desk and lights a cigarette before taking a drag.

"The situation has changed, slightly," he starts with a hint of frustration in his voice.

"How so?" I inquire, noticing the deep lines etched on his face.

"You remember the Guerras?"

"Yes," I reply, immediately recognizing the name of another powerful family in the city. Their longstanding feud with the DeVille family is notorious and has been known to escalate into violence.

"Well, let's just say our differences with them have exacerbated," Enzo reveals.

"I didn't know you were on bad terms with Guerra," I admit, surprised by this new information. While they may not have strong alliances with other families, their only known conflict was with the DeVilles.

Enzo lets out a grimace.

"I was supposed to marry Gianna Guerra. The contract was all but signed," he confesses bitterly.

"But you chose not to go through with it," I add.

"Yes, and they took great offense to that. They've been boycotting our businesses ever since."

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask, intrigued by where this conversation is headed. My dealings have never crossed paths with the Guerras and Valentino had always maintained a neutral relationship with them.

"Because someone we know is now in trouble with them. Someone who needs protection."

I gesture for Enzo to speak freely as we sit in the dimly lit study. The air is heavy with the scent of cigars and whiskey, a familiar smell that always reminds me of my father. I wait patiently as Enzo hesitates before explaining the situation.

"It has to do with your future marriage," he says, his voice low and grave.

I lean forward, intrigued. "Go on."

He takes a swig from his glass before pushing a letter towards me. I scan its contents quickly, my eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. It seems that the woman I am set to marry has killed a member of the Guerra family, and they want revenge.

Enzo confirms my suspicions, adding that it's even worse because the killer is a woman. They could not fathom that someone of the opposite sex would dare to harm a Guerra man.

"Why did she kill him?" I ask, trying to hide the spark of curiosity in my voice.

Enzo looks uncomfortable as he explains, "He was molesting her daughter."

I nod in understanding. No one could blame her for her actions if that was the case.

"But that's not all," Enzo adds gravely. He recounts how someone had desecrated the corpse and put it on display at the Sacre Coeur convent.

"And your sister helped her?"

I sputter in shock. Did I hear that correctly? My own sister aiding in such an act?

Enzo nods solemnly. "Yes. And now I fear for her safety within the convent walls."

"I'll take care of it," I state firmly, already planning to meet with Assisi to ensure my sister's protection.

"Now, onto our agreement." Enzo shifts gears back to business. "Given the situation at hand, I suggest you marry this woman and offer her your protection under your name."

I nod in agreement, feeling oddly pleased by this turn of events. A woman with a child is not some naive young girl, and I believe we will get along better because of it. Plus, her maturity will understand my boundaries and our marriage will not be a typical one.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Enzo smiles, relieved.

"Who is this woman you're talking about?" I ask, knowing that at this point, it's better to at least have a name to put to the face.

"My sister, Catalina." The moment he utters her name, I freeze. No... It can't be her.

"Your sister?" My voice sounds hoarse as I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself and not give away any emotions. "And she agreed to this?"

"Yes. She knows she's in danger, and she'll do anything for her daughter." Catalina... and she has a child. A small pang of heartache hits me at the thought.

"I'll agree, on one condition. I want to meet with her first, to see if she's truly willing," I say, my pulse quickening with anticipation at the mere possibility of being in her presence again.

Enzo considers my request for a moment before nodding in agreement. As he stands up to leave, he adds one last thing. "If this weren't so important, I would never have allowed her to go through with this."

Alone now in the quiet of the office, I try to steady my breathing. In and out. Catalina... the girl who had captured my heart over a decade ago. Just as her image begins to flood my mind, there's a knock at the door.

"Come in." I try to keep my voice even as she enters the room. Her nervousness is evident as she tucks a strand of raven hair behind her ear. She looks different yet still so familiar. Time seems to have stood still for her. Her face is pale and freckled, and her eyes are just as expressive as I remember. But there's no hint of recognition in them.

"Catalina," I greet her, trying to maintain a calm facade while my heart races at the sight of her.

"My brother must have told you the circumstances," she says, her hands neatly folded in her lap as if trying to hide any nervousness.

"He has," I reply, attempting to focus on the conversation and not let my emotions get the better of me.

But she makes me nervous too. If only she knew how much she still affects me after all these years. I can't help but almost chuckle at the thought.

I try to maintain a cool facade and gauge her true feelings towards the arranged marriage.

"Are you in agreement with this match?" I inquire, and she nods briskly.

"Yes," she responds, but then a crease forms between her brows. "But first, there's something I must tell you. You can decide if you still want me after." I hide my inner turmoil and wait for her revelation, hoping it's not what I fear it might be...

"I'm not..." She starts to say, but stops herself. "I'm not pure," she confesses, looking at me with hesitance, expecting me to judge her. How could I? My own actions are so monstrous, so abhorrent that if she knew the truth, she wouldn't look at me with such understanding in her big, luminous eyes.

"That doesn't matter to me," I force out the words.

"But that's not all. I have a daughter..." She continues, and my mind flashes back to what Enzo had told me. The priest had violated her daughter. A red haze clouds my vision and I must take deep breaths to remain composed.

"Enzo mentioned that," I state simply.

"I refuse to be separated from her." It would be unthinkable for Catalina to leave her daughter behind. Despite being a monster myself, even I am not capable of such cruelty.

But then... I must ask. "How old is your daughter?"

"She's nine and a half. She's very well-behaved; she won't cause any trouble for you," she explains, and my hand grips the armrest tightly. Nine years old... so grown up. I turn away so she cannot see the emotion in my eyes.

Catalina has a daughter. A nine-year-old daughter. Is that why she disappeared?

"What is her name?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"Claudia." The name echoes in my mind.

"Very well. You and Claudia will have nothing to fear," I assure her. With my name, I will make sure that no one can harm them ever again.

"It's not... a problem?" Did she really think I'd care about that?

"No. I have a younger sister at home. They aren't that far off in age and could get along." She seems relieved at my words.

But I need to take advantage of this to let her know the terms of the marriage.

"However," I start, "I also have some ground rules. That's why I asked Enzo to let me talk to you beforehand." I'd also wanted to see her reaction. But now? How can I in good faith take advantage of her... when there's so much wrong with me?

How I loathe my past, and the baggage that makes me so bad for her. And yet, I could never find it in myself to refuse her. Not her... never her.

"This will be a marriage in name only. I will give you my name, and I will provide for you and Claudia. You will not want for anything. You will be given your own room in the house. How you spend your time is up to you. I will only impose on you if there is an event we are invited to, or if we are hosting one."

"That is fine with me." She seems stunned at my list of requirements, but she immediately agrees with all of them.

"And one last thing. Don't touch me." I need to add this. For my peace of mind. And yet... if only I could bear someone's touch... that someone would be her.

"What do you mean?" she asks, scrunching up her nose in confusion.

"Just that. I don't like to be touched. Even something small, like a brush of a hand. Don't." I know my voice is brusque, but maybe if I establish a cool relationship from the start, then we both won't suffer the what ifs. I'll be tortured enough knowing she is in my home, within my reach, and I won't be able to touch her. It's better to keep boundaries.

She nods, almost absentmindedly.

"It's better to lay out our expectations from the beginning. That way, there will be no disappointment," I tell her. She needs to know this will never be more than a business arrangement. But more importantly, I need to keep that in mind. Just then, I realize there is one more thing that needs to be addressed. "That does not mean that you can see other men." No one will touch her. She will be mine... even though she won't.

"What about you then?" She narrows her eyes at me.

"Me?" I'm almost tempted to laugh. Did she not hear anything I said so far?

"It will be a marriage in name only, as you said, but I am not allowed to be with anyone else. Then what about you?" She elaborates, and I do laugh. It's just ludicrous. Ah... if she only knew that I've not touched another woman since the first time I saw her, years ago... she'd probably think me deranged.

"You don't have to worry about that, Catalina." I focus on her as I say the words. "My affliction, so to say, extends to everyone. I'll be true to my vows; of that you can rest assured." I take a big gulp of air, the proximity to her already playing with my head. "If I could..." I trail off. She doesn't need to know.

"If we're both in agreement?" I don't think I can be around her for much longer. My control is already too strained.

Enzo joins us shortly, and we decide to register our marriage by the end of the week. I'm very curt in my replies, and once I realize I'm no longer needed, I bail.

It's only on the drive back home that it occurs to me Vlad had to have known. Yes, what I wanted most will be mine... and not. I give a dry laugh at the thought... and I remember the first time I ever saw Catalina. She'd mesmerized me back then, just as she did now. And I'm marrying her. In another life, maybe I would have thought myself lucky. In this one... it's one more price I have to pay for my sins.

Back at the Lastra mansion, I try to avoid bumping into anyone as I head directly to my room. I close the door and lock it. Quickly, I take off my jacket and my shirt so I'm naked from the waist up.

I falter for a second before I collapse to my knees. Head hung low, I place my hands on my thighs as I take a moment to myself. The memories are too much. They're threatening to drown me. And no matter how much I try to gasp for air, I can't. My hand clutches at the material of my pants as I grit my teeth in frustration.

Why?

Why did Catalina have to return to my life?

Why?

Kneeling in front of my makeshift altar, I grab the strap from the table, and I wrap one end around my knuckles. Then, using all my force, I whip it back until it makes contact with my skin, breaking it. I wince in pain... but I deserve it.

I'm a sinner.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

The pain is helping dull my senses.

Catalina... my Catalina.

I'll never deserve her.

Whip.

Whip.

Whip.

I can feel the blood trickling down my back.

Whip.

Whip.

Whip.

My breath is ragged as the pain threatens to make me lose consciousness. Just as I am about to reach that pinnacle, I stop.

I have to marry her.

You'd think I would rejoice at the thought.

But I can't.

I'll only taint her. Defile her with my corruption. Damn her soul with my depravity.

She's my one weakness. A beacon of true innocence... My Beatrice .

I stagger to my feet, dropping the whip to the floor. With uneven movements, I make it to the shower. Taking the rest of my clothes off, I prop myself under the jet of water and let it wash the blood away. Everything is red.

Blood...

Like that night.

I lose my balance, falling on the shower floor. The water is still running, coursing over my head and mingling with my tears.

I grab onto my knees and I start rocking.

Sinner.

I'm a sinner.

Lord, what have I done?