Thicker Than Water (15 page)

“Oh, right.” Carol always disappeared into rehearsals around this time every year. Kia felt the tension in her chest ease. She probably barely noticed Kia and Aaron hadn't been around as much.

“Hey, we should get together,” Aaron suggested. “You, me, and Carol. Do another ritual.”

“I don't know....”

“I think it's important. To ... reconnect. Renew our bond.” He ran a hand through his red hair. He needed a haircut, and for the first time Kia noticed pale reddish stubble on his cheeks. “We really haven't hung out in a while.”

I should do this
, Kia decided, feeling guilty. Besides, that time they had done a ritual for Kia's mom, it had seemed to have some effect.

“Well, if it works for Carol, tonight works for me,” Kia said. “I need to go to the hospital now, but we can meet after that. Call my cell and just tell me when.”

Kia rode the bus from the hospital crosstown to Aaron's that night, feeling a knot of anxiety in her stomach. It had not been a good visit. It wasn't so much that anything bad had happened, just more of the same—more weakness, more exhaustion, more doctors, more hair loss, more vomiting, more apologies, more regret.

Her mom had been so happy to see her that Kia felt awful that she'd come so infrequently in the last month. And then when Kia had inadvertently revealed that her dad was spending most of his time in D.C. on his big case, her mother had become as indignant as her wasted state allowed. Upsetting her mom was the last thing Kia had wanted to do.

Kia stepped off the bus and hurried to Aaron's building. A cold gust of wind hit her; winter was definitely on its way. She shivered on her way into the lobby and realized she was shivering on the inside too—just a little.

Why was she so nervous? It was just Aaron and Carol.

But she knew better. Things had changed between the three of them.

She rode up the elevator, got out, and buzzed Aaron's doorbell.
It doesn't have to be this way,
she thought. Vampires respected other worlds; Mundanes should be able to do that too.

Aaron greeted her in his kimono and ushered her into his room, where Carol was sitting on Aaron's bed. She looked up from a book of spells when they entered the room. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” Kia replied.

Kia perched on the edge of the bed while Aaron bustled around, setting up. “So what's on the program tonight?” Kia asked, trying to warm up to the evening's plans.

Carol shrugged. “I can't decide.”

“How did that last performance go?” Kia asked, embarrassed that she had never asked. It had been weeks ago.

“Brilliantly!” Aaron responded for Carol. “Right?”

“Really?” Kia asked. “Weren't you having trouble with one part of it?”

Carol nodded. “It was so strange,” she said. “We did a spell, and afterward I breezed through that measure as if it had never been a problem.”

“I told you,” Aaron said, kneeling on the floor and lighting a candle.

“Wow,” Kia said.

Carol laughed. “Of course, I have brand-new problems to solve.”

“Don't we all?” Aaron said.

A tiny smile tweaked the corners of Kia's mouth. For the first time, she felt as if she had fewer problems than before.

Then a queasy feeling crept through her. Her grades were basement level, her mother wasn't any better—in fact, she seemed worse—and Carol and Aaron felt like unfamiliar territory.

She shook off the unpleasant clutch in her stomach by remembering Damon's black eyes, his cool, pale hands. By remembering she had a place to be, a place to go, a person to become as often as she needed to. Best of all, she could go bare-armed if she wanted without any fear at all. Her biggest secret had evaporated.

Carol was discussing spells, trying to decide whether to try to find herself a new romantic playmate since Robby the cellist was over or if she should strengthen her breath control for the upcoming concert.

“Boy toy,” Aaron said. “Obviously. Let's get our priorities straight.”

Kia forced herself to join the conversation. “Carol doesn't need spells to get boys to crawl all over her.” She smiled at Carol. “Go for the music.”

Carol smiled back. “Yeah, you're right. Better use of energy.”

Kia noticed they didn't ask her if she was going to do a spell. Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn't. After all, the spells seemed to have worked for Aaron and Carol.

She decided to suspend her judgment and give herself over to the game.

She felt a pang.
In other words, don't be Carol.

Her eyes flicked to Carol. She was bent over a book, her long auburn hair cascading softly across her face. Once again, she looked pretty, nearly posed, as the candles flickered around her.

She can't help it,
Kia realized. Carol was afraid of the darkness. That was why she was
pretty
—not beautiful. But Kia knew that Carol's limits weren't her fault; everyone was taught to fear their shadow selves. The vampires had shown Kia that.

Carol must have felt Kia's eyes on her because she looked up, puzzled, and gave her a tentative smile. Kia reached out and took her hand, feeling compassion for her friend's fears. Carol's smile broadened. She squeezed Kia's hand.

Aaron stood hovering, watching, holding back his glee. Kia released Carol's hand. She was about to really make his day.

“Do you have another one of those kimono jobs?” she asked.

Aaron blinked at her. She nearly burst out laughing at how surprised he looked. Then he recovered. “Sure do. One with your name on it.”

After Kia slipped into the kimono, they cast the circle and started doing their spells—Aaron trying to get more action going with Elf Boy, Carol to strengthen her flute playing and her singing.

“So do we do our chanting now?” Aaron asked.

“Wait,” Kia said. Her body thrummed with vibration from the ritual. “I, uh, I want to try.”

Aaron and Carol glanced at each other.

“What do you want to do?” Aaron asked.

She suddenly felt shy, now that her friends were looking at her expectantly. “For my mom,” Kia said. She took a deep breath. “Something to help my mom.”

Carol took her hand; Kia could feel the warmth radiating from her. “Sure.”

Kia looked at Aaron. “So is there a spell in one of those books that I should try?”

“There's some stuff you can use, but I think the magic works best if it comes from you. Make up your own words,” Aaron said.

“I—I don't know if I can do that,” Kia said.

“We'll help you,” Carol offered.

“Quick, before you change your mind!” Aaron placed a blue candle in front of Kia. “This is for healing.”

Kia nodded and knelt in front of the candle. She lit it and stared into the tiny flickering flame. She sat for a few minutes and then started to feel stupid. “What should I do?” she asked.

Carol picked up one of the spell books that lay on the floor near the bed. She flipped through it, her brow furrowed. “Maybe some kind of banishing spell? To get rid of your mom's illness.”

Kia nodded.

“It will be even stronger if it becomes like a chant,” Aaron suggested.

“Okay,” she said hesitantly. She hadn't realized it would be this complicated.

“This is for purification.” Aaron pointed to a white candle. “Like I said, the blue one is for healing. And here's a red one for strength and courage.”

“That sounds right,” Kia said.

“Why don't you light the candles and then talk about what you want to get rid of? You should have an action too,” Aaron added. “To act out banishing the things you want to banish.”

“I know!” Kia grabbed a blank yellow pad from Aaron's desk. “Okay if I destroy this?”

“Go for it.”

“Let's re-center,” Carol suggested. “Get back in the flow thing.”

Aaron had them hold hands and shut their eyes. They sat in silence, breathing quietly, more and more deeply. Kia let herself sense Carol and Aaron beside her, the energy flowing between them. She let herself connect to ...
something ...
the way she had that night at the Wiccan ceremony, the way she always felt at the clubs.

“Ready,” she declared.

Carol and Aaron opened their eyes. Kia knelt in front of the three candles and lit a match.

“For purification.” Kia lit the white candle. “For healing.” She lit the blue candle. She took a deep breath, then lit the red candle. “For strength and courage.”

“What do you want to banish?” Aaron asked.

Kia stared at the blue candle. “The bad cells in my mother's body,” she said. Her voice shook a little.

“Repetition is important,” Aaron said softly. “What do you want to banish?”

Kia cleared her throat. “The bad cells in my mother's body,” she said more loudly.

“What do you want to banish?” Aaron repeated, and this time Carol joined in. It was beginning to sound like a chant.

“The bad cells in my mother's body,” she said.

“What do you want to banish?”

Kia found herself standing, clutching the notepad.

“The bad cells in my mother's body.” She ripped a piece of paper from the pad, crumpled it, and stomped on it. “The bad cells in my mother's body,” she shouted. She knelt back down and ripped the paper to shreds. “The bad cells in my mother's body.”

Aaron and Carol kept chanting and now they started clapping and stomping their feet. Energy was building. “What do you want to banish?”

Kia ripped another page. “My mother's pain! It hurts to see her that way. I want to take it away. Take it away.”

She fell to the floor and pounded on it. “She's so afraid. I'm afraid too. I don't want her to be scared. I don't want to be scared.”

“What do you want to banish?”

“Please make it stop. Make it all stop. I want to go back to when it was all okay. I'm not okay. It's not okay.”

“What do you want to banish?”

Kia tore at the pad, ripping it, tearing at it, smashing her hands against the floor, pounding in rhythm with Carol and Aaron's chanting. Feelings tumbled around inside her, propelled by the increasing intensity of Carol and Aaron's voices. They shouted louder and faster and faster, and Kia's voice became a wail over the din. Something burst open inside her. “I can't do this,” she shrieked. “I don't know how to do this. I can't handle it. I don't want to. I don't want to anymore!”

Aaron's voice faltered, and Carol continued alone. “What do you want to banish?”

“Everything. I want to banish everything.” Kia rolled into a ball and sobs poured out of her. She clutched the ruined notepad to her chest and hid her face. Carol and Aaron had stopped chanting and clapping. Her eyes were shut and she had no idea what they were doing, thinking. She felt humiliated and raw, crying uncontrollably on Aaron's floor. As her sobs quieted, anger replaced agony: she felt furious that Carol and Aaron had pushed her to this.

After what felt like an eternity, Aaron said, “We send Kia's banishing spell out to the universe. As we will it, so it will be.”

Kia rolled back upright and wiped her face. She avoided looking at them; she just stood up and straightened the kimono. “I—I've got to go.”

“We need to open the circle,” Aaron protested, but he hadn't even completed the sentence when Kia disappeared into the bathroom to change back into her clothes.

Screw them and their witch games,
she thought. That was too intense, too weird.

She dressed quickly and burst out of the bathroom.

Aaron cleared his throat. “Um ...”

“Are you okay?” Carol asked.

“Yeah, sure.” Kia slung her bag over her shoulder. “Gotta go.”

“Kia,” Aaron said. “I—I didn't think it would be ... I didn't know.”

“Yeah, right.” Kia crossed the room, and Aaron and Carol both made way for her. She could feel them wanting to stop her.

“Kia,” Carol said. “I'll go with you.”

“No,” Kia said. She opened the door and whirled around to face them. “I'm okay. Really.”

She spun back around and left.

Her veins pounded, throbbed, called to her. Cut me, release me,
let it out, let it all out.

She needed a blade, needed the sharp searing sudden pain, the slow ooze.
Let it out let it out let it out.

Her pace was quick. She was already at the bus stop. She flung herself up the little steps, swiped her card, and lurched into a seat. An itch, a cry. She pressed against her wrists, trying to stop it, trying to quiet it all down. Columbus Avenue. Central Park West. The bus kept stopping and Kia urged it forward. She had to get back to the apartment, now, take care of this need now. Grab the delicate edge and go at it. Now. Through the park and out the other side. Fifth Avenue. She could feel her eyes burning with unshed tears. Madison. Park.

I don't want to feel this. I don't want to do this.
As powerful as the need to cut was, so was the need to not succumb, not give in. But how? How could she stop herself? She had never been able to before. Not when the craving was so powerful.

She saw the green globes indicating a subway stop. She was at Lexington.

“Getting out,” she shouted before the bus could drive away. She hurtled out the door and down into the subway.

Her breathing became calmer once she was on the train. It
will be okay,
she thought as she watched for her stop.
You'll be okay. Everything will be all right.