Rohan watched me, lounging inside the room. I drank him in, freshly shaven with his sweater and black trousers molding to every muscle. His eyes were alight with amusement. “Why were you quoting Latin, Lolita?”
My hand tightened on my phone. “That name is done. Got it?”
Rohan gave a confused nod.
I stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my room. Of course he followed me. He never knew when to leave things alone.
He stopped in the doorway. “The Latin?”
My head had started to throb. “It means–”
“I know what it means. I’m asking why you said it.”
“Is it any of your business?”
“Does it have to do with the scientist whose hotel room was trashed? Because if it does?” He crossed his arms, propping one hip against the wood. Settling in for the long-haul of being annoying and making this his business.
Really? Now he was concerned about that? About me? “Dr. Gelman gave me the instructions for the ritual. I’ll be the one performing it.”
“She’s alive?”
I nodded. “Hiding out, but alive.” I untangled the mess of blankets on my bed, hoping he’d see I was busy and leave.
“Good. What did Abrams want you to tell Ari?”
I smoothed out the top cover, keeping my back to him. “Eavesdropping is a nasty habit.”
“Around you it’s a requirement. Spill.”
I plumped the pillow up. Pound. Pound. Pound. “There’s a slight chance I could die.”
“If you do the ceremony.”
Still working on the pillow, I faced him. “Yes.”
Rohan smiled, a glittering dangerous smile. I scooted backward a couple of steps. My knees hit the boxspring. “Ari wouldn’t let you do anything to endanger yourself,” Rohan said.
I flung the pillow at him. Rohan wasn’t expecting that. It bounced off his face and hit the ground. “You rat me out and I’ll never forgive you.”
He pushed off the wall. I sensed that same wildness in him as the day we’d learned about the Brotherhood using demons. “I can live with that.” His words were silky and more lethal sounding for it.
I stepped up to him, toe to toe. “You have no say in my life or my decisions.”
It took everything in me not to smack his arrogant eyebrow lift off of his face.
“I’m in charge of you,” he said. “Your main babysitter, remember?” Babysitter. Right. Just the poor schmuck stuck watching my pathetic ass.
I punched him in the stomach. Rohan grunted. “That’s for not even saying ‘thank you’ for saving Lily,” I said. “I had third degree burns on my back and had to spend three freaking days in an iron lung!” A total lie but the doctor had given me oxygen. “I didn’t even merit ‘a good job, Nava’ from you. Your leadership skills suck balls.”
I shoved at him, craving a physical target for my anger, but he grabbed my wrist, jerking me up against him. “Thank you, Nava,” he growled. “For saving someone so important to me, when I failed to realize she was even in danger. Thank you, Nava, for risking your life when all I did was leave her wide open to be taken by a demon.”
He released his hold, the fight going out of him.
I’d never seen the expression on his face before so it took me a minute to figure it out. Shame. With a healthy heap of guilt. Shit. His cousin Asha. What kind of flashback hell had Rohan spent the past few days reliving, believing his failings had caused yet another person he loved to be hurt?
I reached out to place my hand on his cheek, then remembered that gesture wasn’t on the approved list anymore and curled my fingers into my palm. “Rohan, if you were to blame for her being there, then I was just as much to blame.”
His eyes lit up like I’d thrown him a lifeline. Then he shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense. It wasn’t your fault.” Truth be told, it was probably more my fault than his. Lily was my gift from Samson after all. It was my lie about being lightning girl that started it. Plus, he’d seen me replaced by her at the concert. The pissed off demon had gifted me with my chance for payback, convinced I’d take it.
However, I’d shared as much as I was going to. “Absolve yourself. I do, and I’m sure Lily does.”
I walked over to my doorway and paused, one hand on the wall. “The thing about living in the dark? It doesn’t exist without light. That means you can step into that light, if you want. Only you can choose how you live your life, Rohan, just like only I can choose how I live mine.”
I was halfway down the hall when I heard his soft, “good luck.”
Chapter 28
I never did enlighten Ari that he might be an only child when this was over. He looked nervous enough to puke, or bolt, as it was. Dressed all in white, as per Dr. Gelman’s instructions, he sat on the sofa in our family’s living room, drumming his fingers on the modular coffee table. Both our parents were at the university teaching so I’d commandeered the room. It seemed appropriate given this was where his induction ceremony had gone so wrong the first time.
Outwardly, I was the picture of calm as I poured the dirt and water into separate small clay bowls, but his drumming set my teeth on edge. Luckily, right before I concussed my sibling with the decanter, there was a firm knock on the front door. “That’s the rabbi. Go help him.”
Ari jumped up to answer it.
I ran a critical eye over myself to ensure that I’d properly adhered to the clothing specifications. I wore an ankle-length white cotton skirt and long sleeved white cotton blouse. My feet were bare, my hair was down, and I wore no make-up or jewelry other than my Rasha ring. Gelman had been clear about both the purity of color and fabric for this ceremony. I was to be as natural as possible to ensure nothing could contaminate the ritual. Ari and I being bound was complication enough.
My brother returned a moment later, leading Rabbi Abrams into the room.
“Rabbi, where are all the ritual items?” He’d promised to get me everything on Gelman’s list, insisting they were easy enough for him to procure without raising any suspicion.
With Ari’s help, the rabbi lowered himself into a chair. He sighed in pleasure, rubbing his knee, and looked over toward the hallway. “My helpers.” As if on cue, Kane and Rohan walked into the room, each carrying a box.
I pointed to the ground next to the coffee table. “Set them there, then you can leave.”
Kane put his box down. He flung himself onto the sofa, pulling Ari down next to him by both hands. “Nervous? Excited?”
“This isn’t a spectator event. Invited guests only.” I snapped my fingers at him. “Out. That goes for you too, Mitra.” I rushed Rohan as he sat down, trying to knock him out of the chair he’d reached for. He got comfortable and I barely escaped falling into his lap.
“Rabbi,” I appealed, “I’m nervous enough about performing this ritual correctly without a home audience.”
The rabbi reached into his pocket, pulling out three simple white cloth kippahs, which he distributed to the men. “It’s better to have witnesses for this. They can attest that I performed the Brotherhood’s induction ceremony which, thanks to God, worked properly this time.” I’m glad he believed it would work.
Or was at least faking really well.
He pointed to the box that Kane had put down. “That one contains the Brotherhood ceremony items.”
The Brotherhood’s anal corporate tendencies worked in our favor. Every time a rabbi performed a ritual, he had to request the necessary items through the Brotherhood. In Rabbi Abrams’ case, that meant having Ms. Clara take the candles, wine, and ceremonial cloth from inventoried stock. If anyone checked, they’d see that the rabbi had indeed requested them to re-run Ari’s induction ceremony. The box Kane had brought over was the dummy box full of Brotherhood-mandated ritual props.
For the ceremony that I was going to perform, however, other than the dirt and water that I’d purchased specifically in Prague, it didn’t matter where the other items came from.
&n
bsp; Rohan reached into the box at his feet and pulled out a white tablecloth. “Where do you want this?”
I snatched it out of his hands and lay it back in the box. “If you two are going to stay then keep out of the way and don’t touch anything.” I planned to follow Gelman’s instructions to a T, not intending to drop dead because of some minor procedural screw up. “Sit on the sofa, both of you.”
At least they did as they were told.
“Navela.” Rabbi Abrams pulled a small, intricately carved box out of his pocket and held it out. Inside was the same Rasha ring that I wore, a gold band, engraved with a hamsa and dotted with a tiny blue sapphire. If the ceremony worked, the ring would fit itself to my brother’s finger. I had him hold onto it for a bit longer.
I pulled Ari to his feet and positioned him in the center of the room. “Don’t move.”
I’d read and re-read Gelman’s instructions. Could recite them backward and forward and still I wiped damp palms against my skirt in fear that I’d accidentally do something in the wrong order.
First, I positioned four white pillar candles on glass bases in a wide circle around Ari to delineate north, south, east, and west. I’d used an old compass earlier to mark out the correct directions. Moving the coffee table by the north candle, I spread the white tablecloth on it then placed my clay bowls on top of the fabric. Beside them went a shofar, a hollowed-out, carved ram’s horn that I’d blow through to make a kind of trumpeting noise. Shofars were most closely associated with the Jewish new year, Rosh Hashanah, but also with mitzvahs and were part of my instructions now.
From the box I removed two white talleisim; knotted, fringed prayer shawls, which I placed next to the shofar. The ring box was the final item needed. I took it from the rabbi, but instead of placing it on the tablecloth, handed it, lid open, to my brother.
Ari was still fidgeting so I took both his hands in mine best I could with the ring box, looking deep into his eyes. Affirming our connection. He straightened his shoulders and nodded. He was ready.
Was I? I looked at my twin, standing tall and smiling at me, implicit trust in his eyes. I felt his love wash over me and knew, come what may, that I was. Taking a deep breath, I placed one tallis over Ari’s shoulders and the other over mine to signal the beginning of the ritual. A symbolic garment to denote placing ourselves in a space conducive to sacred work.
Reaching into my skirt pocket for a book of wood matches, I lit each candle, starting with the north-most one and turning clockwise from there. Under my breath, I invoked the blessing Gelman had sent, transforming this space from profane to sacred.
I picked up the shofar, running a hand over the smooth, curved surface. Standing tall, shoulders back, I raised the shofar, starting the ceremony. I pursed my lips, keeping the upper one tight and the lower one loose as the rabbi had instructed. Rabbi Abrams had coached me on how to sound it last night. Or attempted to. The noise I’d produced was closer to a constipated moose than the clear sound he’d demonstrated but he’d insisted it was good enough for purposes of the ritual.
Right before I blew into it, I glanced over at Rohan and Kane expecting some snarky look. An eye roll at the very least. But the two of them were treating this ceremony with the solemnity and dignity it deserved. Kane leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs, watching me, rapt. Rohan’s gold gaze was more hawk-like but just as captivated.
A single pure note trumpeted out of the horn when I blew into it. Hearing it, my heart soared.
I dipped my fingers into the clay bowl containing the purified well water, flicking three drops over first my head and then over Ari’s. A ritual immersion. Keeping that bowl in my right hand, I picked up the bowl with the virgin soil from a mountain not dug by men and added it to the water. It formed gloopy clumps. I set the empty bowl back on the tablecloth, then stepped in close to Ari.
“Aleph, mem, tav.” I smeared a line of watery dirt across his forehead with my right hand. “Aleph, mem, tav.” Another line down his left cheek. Again and again, I recited the letters. The ones which spelled “emet”–truth in Hebrew–and which, according to legend, had brought the golem to life. I recited them until I’d outlined Ari with the dirt. My brother was the golem, the unformed substance that I prayed this ritual would complete.
I took a moment to center myself. This was the last step. The make or break moment. Quite literally.
Pulling a Swiss army knife out of my skirt pocket, I extracted the blade which I’d previously cleansed in fire. Holding it in my soil-smeared hand, I slashed my other palm in a diagonal line. “Emet.” I flinched against the stab of pain.
A bright line of blood swelled on my skin.
Rabbi Abrams inhaled sharply. Every muscle in Rohan’s body was tense. Kane had half-risen off of the sofa, perched on the arm.
I slashed another line perpendicular to the first. “Met.” The word for death. The second slash burned a million times worse. I pressed my bloody palm to Ari’s heart. “Rasha!”
Ari’s heart beat slow and steady through his shirt. The sound travelled through my palm, up along my arm, vibrating from the heavy thrum. My arm shook, his heartbeat growing in strength as mine grew weaker and more fluttery.
There was a great sucking whoosh inside my head. White spots danced and spiraled in front of my eyes. Ari’s heartbeat was joined by a sparking noise. A clicking sound like a lighter not quite catching.
My chest constricted. I was blinded by the white filling my vision. The clicking morphed into the explosion of a single spark, so loud it deafened, so tangible it snapped my head forward. My magic burst free wrapping my body like barbed wire. A million agonizing bites tore into my flesh.
I couldn’t pull away. Ari’s heart pounded in my skull drowning out all other sound, throbbing through my teeth as my magic tightened around me. I smelled blood.
The magic wire outside my body tightened and tightened; the magic knot within threatened to rip me in half as it fought its unraveling. I sagged, unable to breathe, unable to support myself. Propped up solely by the magic killing me.
“Met.” A chorus of women’s voices chanted in my head. Death and death and death.
The world went dark. Gelman hadn’t prepared me for this but it was beautiful. Nothingness and totality. Peace at last.
Compelling, but it wasn’t my choice.
“Chai,” I whispered. Life.
My eyes snapped open. I gasped and surged to my feet from where I’d been crumpled on the floor.
The ring flew from the box to fit itself onto Ari’s ring finger on his right hand. The silence in the room was absolute. My brother held up his hand, looking from it to me in wonder. “You did it.”
He crushed me into his arms.
“Told you so.” I buried my head against his chest, holding him tightly.
Kane whooped, breaking the spell. He bounded over to us, joining in the hug.
“Exiting now.” I ached all over and the boys’ adoration, while appreciated, hurt.
Rabbi Abrams patted Ari on the back in congratulations. Rohan was busy welcoming my twin into the fold as well.
“This calls for a celebration,” Kane said.
Ari and I exchanged grins. “Balls inside,” he said.
I picked my tallis up off the floor where it had fallen, folding it carefully. “It’s always about the balls inside with you.”
“Is this rabbi appropriate?” Rohan asked.
“I enjoy the balls inside myself,” Rabbi Abrams said, winking at us. I snorted. Go, Rabbi.
Rohan’s and Kane’s double take was a thing of beauty.
Snickering, Ari explained to the poor gobsmacked men. “St. Honoré cakes? The ones with the little cream balls on top? Our baker makes one with the balls both on top and inside, instead of just sponge cake inside.”
“Ari requests it for every occasion.” One of the best things my parents ever did was to let Ari and me each choose our favorite cake on our joint birthday. That meant I didn’t have to give up my more-chocol
ate-per-square-inch extravaganza to enjoy balls inside.
“Very delicious,” Rabbi Abrams pronounced. “Nava, may I have some water?”
“Of course.” I escorted him to get a drink, leaving Kane taking bets on what Ari’s magic power would be.
My parents hadn’t known about the ceremony today so the kitchen wasn’t in the pristine state my mom normally demanded for rabbi visits. A couple of dirty mugs in the sink, magazines on the counter, and the miscellaneous cork board a disaster of notes, flyers, and postcards. They were going to freak out that they’d missed Ari’s induction, and even better, since they’d believe that Rabbi Abrams ran it, I was in the clear.
I sat down at the table with the rabbi as he drank.
“Mazel tov. I’m very proud of you,” he said.
“Thank you.” I debated telling him about the gogota, letting him know what the Brotherhood was up to because I’d be willing to bet he had no idea. But I didn’t. Today was about celebration. Plenty of time to fight again tomorrow.
Placing one hand on the table, he pushed to his feet. “I’m going to speak with Ari and then update the Brotherhood.” His eyes crinkled in a smile. “So glad I correctly performed the induction with your brother in the proper frame of mind this time.” Movements slow but full of dignity, he left.
I lay my head on the table, exhausted. All the terror I’d held in both before and during the ceremony kicked in, leaving me shaky. It wasn’t that I could have died but that I could have screwed up and hurt Ari somehow. There were so many ways this could have gone wrong, and the fact that it went right kind of overwhelmed me.
I’d done it. Me. I’d stuck to my convictions and Ari was now Rasha. Once more on track for his destiny. I couldn’t believe that I’d be getting my brother back down the hall from me, fighting with me and I couldn’t wait to see what magic power he manifested. Like all Rasha, it would be tied to some aspect of his personality. I stood, wondering if I’d learn some deep dark secret about my twin when it did.
The Unlikeable Demon Hunter Collection: Books 1-6: A Complete Paranormal Romantic Comedy Series Page 55