The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(102)

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.

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.