The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(5)
Rabbi Abrams blessed the wine then handed the chalice to Ari. Once my brother had taken a sip, he dipped his finger in the wine and dripped three fat red drops back into the chalice. A reminder of the precious human blood that would be spilled if they lost their fight against evil.
I discreetly waved off some smudgy smoke, suppressing a tiny smile at my mom doing the exact same thing. If it had been up to my parents, they’d have rented a ballroom and invited every person they’d ever known to watch their little boy become a badass mensch. Let’s face it, a demon hunter induction had way more bragging rights than a Bar Mitzvah. But alas, the general populace was not to know the Brotherhood existed, so my parents had to keep quiet about Ari’s abilities and his big day today.
I’d always wished Ari’s induction would happen in a stone cavern with chanting, hooded members, but old David had mandated humility into Demon Club’s mission statement. The chosen one was supposed to selflessly devote his life to demon hunting for the greater good, not personal glory. So it was always just a small ceremony with immediate family, if that, performed in the home.
The rabbi wrapped a small handkerchief around Ari’s wrist–white to symbolize piety. Yeah, right. Based on the very few Rasha I’d met, it would take more than a hankie to tamp down their enormous arrogance. Try a textile factory’s yearly output.
Rabbi Abrams held fast to the other end of the cloth as he lay his free hand on my brother’s head. More Hebrew.
I snuck a look at my parents. To their credit, they didn’t look disappointed. In fact, seated there, watching the ceremony with rapt looks, they pretty much glowed with delight.
My own chest warmed in tight mushiness and a tear leaked from my eye, streaking its way down my cheek.
Ouch.
I blinked against the sudden stinging. Everything took on a drugged, underwater quality as the room swam around me. I clasped my hands together, pressing them between my knees. Breathing through my nose. Determined not to mess up the ceremony.
Again.
Ari repeated some Hebrew phrases the rabbi gave him. Aww, look at that twin of mine, embracing his destiny. I focused on my excitement to be here with him as he stepped into his future.
Better him than me.
The edges of my vision flickered. The rabbi’s voice, harsh and far too loud, scraped over my skin. Clapping my hands over my ears didn’t help. My flesh broke out in goosebumps as whispers sounded around me. A million voices, a million Rasha spirits brought together to welcome the newly chosen.
Carpet fibers pricked the soles of my feet as I stood up. The room spun. Sweat dotted my brow, slid between my shoulder blades.
The rabbi had his back to me but Ari glanced over, a flash of concern rippling through his serious expression.
Did I have delayed alcohol poisoning? I pulled at the neck of my shirt, fighting for air. Was that even a thing?
Rabbi Abrams opened a small, intricately carved box, revealing the fat gold ring that would mark Ari as one of the chosen. Gold from the ancient Judaic symbol for divine or celestial light, a holy blessing sought since David’s time.
Propelled by a force beyond my control, I opened my hand, reaching for the ring. Every atom inside me screamed out for that band.
“Sheli.” Huh? How did I suddenly know the Hebrew word for “mine?”
The ring floated free to hover in mid-air.
Every head in the room whipped my way. Mom tensed, her body straining forward to look at me. Dad’s eyes widened, his coffee mug falling to the floor, brown liquid pooling in a sludge.
Ari and Rabbi Abrams gaped slack-jawed at me.
“Sheli,” I repeated, trance-like. My voice was a deep, rich, resonating command. Even though I was freaking out at my total lack of ability to control my actions, I also felt a deep sense of rightness in my gut as I spoke.
That freaked me out more.
The ring launched across the room to fit itself on my right index finger with the mother of all electric shocks. My hair blew back off my face. I snapped out of the trance, once more in full-control of my faculties.
“Fucking hell!” I cursed, shaking out my hand while jumping up and down.
The candles snuffed out, leaving everyone in stunned silence.
Ari was the first to move. He reached over and snapped the ring box in Rabbi Abrams’ hand shut with a thud that cracked like gunfire. “It appears you had the wrong twin,” he said. He hefted the silver chalice. “L’chaim,” he toasted and slugged the whole thing back.
2
“I don’t want it,” I protested for about the hundredth time, yanking on the ring.
“It won’t come off.” Rabbi Abrams’ face was so wrinkled up in horrified anxiety that he resembled a Shar Pei with a Dumbledore beard.
“It’s water weight. Bloating.” I ran for the kitchen, dumping half a bottle of dish soap over both my finger and the stainless steel sink. “Move, you motherfucker,” I muttered, pulling on it with all my might.
The ring spun round and round in the thick yellow goo, but wouldn’t move even a millimeter closer to my knuckle. A hamsa, a palm-shaped design with two symmetrical thumbs meant to ward off the evil eye, was engraved in the center of the band. The single open eye etched into the middle of the palm stared up at me with its tiny blue sapphire iris.
I swear it smirked.
Ari swaggered in. He’d abandoned the chalice and was now swigging directly from the bottle.