Thicker Than Water by Carla Jablonski Page A

elbows.
    Aaron knelt down and started pulling some bags from his duffel. “Candles. Herbs.” He glanced around the room. “Kia, can you go grab some matches from the kitchen? Oh, and some salt.”
    â€œOkay.” Kia dropped the robe on Aaron’s rumpled bed and went into the cramped kitchen. Baby paraphernalia was everywhere, so she had to be careful not to step on some toy or knock over the bottles, pacifiers, and baby food jars as she rummaged in the cupboard for a box of matches. Aaron’s parents had taken The Surprise to meet some of their old hippie friends who also had a baby afterthought.
    She took the saltshaker and matches back into Aaron’s room. It had once been a fairly spacious bedroom, but since the arrival of The Surprise, a wall had been built down the center to turn it into two extremely small rooms. Carol and Aaron, both wearing kimonos now, put candles in different spots around the cramped room.
    â€œHere you go,” Kia said, putting the matches and saltshaker on Aaron’s dresser.
    Aaron consulted a thick book with a spooky cover. “Oh, we need a bowl of water too. And something to represent air.”
    â€œLike what?” Carol asked, sticking a bright yellow candle into a holder.
    Aaron studied the book again. “A feather. Chimes. A fan.” He scanned the room, then snapped his fingers. “Got it!” He dashed out and came back holding a little battery-operated personal fan. “My mom was always hot those last months she was pregnant.”
    He placed the fan carefully and stepped back, admiring the setup. He looked up at Kia and Carol and announced, “We are ready to begin. Oh, once Kia changes.”
    Kia quickly slipped the kimono on over her clothes. “This is fine. Let’s not waste any more time.”
    Aaron looked disappointed but was obviously eager to get started. He piled some books in the middle of the tiny room. “Okay. These books say to cast a circle. Then it’s time for some serious chanting and dancing. Now, do what I tell you and follow me when I start walking around in a circle,” Aaron instructed.
    Kia saluted. “Yes, sir.”
    Aaron took Carol and Kia’s hands. “Shut your eyes and breathe, slowly and deeply.”
    Kia closed her eyes and felt Carol’s small cool hand and Aaron’s large, warmer one. She tried to do what Aaron said, but her brain just kept spinning. I can’t believe I slipped again, she thought. So soon.
    â€œLet all the tensions and worries of the day drain out of you,” Aaron crooned.
    Yeah, right, Kia thought, but she ordered herself to pay attention to Aaron.
    â€œFeel your breath,” Aaron said. “In and out again.”
    After a few moments, she realized that she and her friends were all breathing together. It felt cozy, as if they were sharing a soft blanket. They released hands and Aaron used the baton to make a pentagram in the air.
    Aaron crossed to the little propeller fan and picked it up. Holding the fan out in front of him, he intoned, “Hail to the element of air. Come join us in our circle tonight, giving us your strength and your protection.”
    He flicked the switch on the battery-operated fan and Kia felt its breeze as he held it first in front of himself, then in front of Carol, then in front of Kia. “We are your children, air. We welcome you.”
    He turned off the fan and placed it back on the floor. He moved in a circular path to the red candle. He lit it and held it in front of him just as he did with the fan. “Hail to the element of fire. Come join us in our circle tonight, giving us your strength and your protection.” He passed his hand just above the flame, then held it in front of Carol. He nodded at her, and she passed her hand above the flame. Then he did the same with Kia.
    Aaron’s good at this, Kia thought as the heat from the flame made her hand glow.
    â€œWe are your children,