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His canine teeth were half an inch long, and glowing brightly in a sickening mixture of orange, red, and white.
He jerked his hand away and the boy's head fell to the pillow. "Dear Lord. You were right."
A few minutes later, Lincoln and the cantor sat across from each other in the living room, where they could talk. Joseph had passed out again, and Lincoln had restored the bedroom to darkness for his son's comfort.
"I find it difficult to believe that a Jew could be turned into a vampire, even if he were bitten by one. Possession by a dybbuk, perhaps, but not transformation into a vampire. Vampires are not part of the Jewish Kabala. They are part of Christian lore, not Jewish. They should only be able to affect Christians."
"Perhaps," said Lincoln slowly, "it's because Joseph has not yet been Bar Mitzvahed. He won't turn thirteen until next year."
The cantor looked startled. "That doesn't make sense at all. One does not become Jewish when one is Bar Mitzvah. You are Jewish at birth, and you join the covenant at the age of eight days."
Lincoln 's eyes lit up. "Cantor, can't you do it anyway?"
"Do what?"
"Bar Mitzvah the boy? So he'll be an adult? Maybe that's the key to saving him!"
The cantor gave Lincoln a hard stare. "Mr. Kliman, you seem to be under the impression that a Bar Mitzvah ceremony is a magical ritual that will establish the boy as Jewish and render him immune to the vampirism. Bar Mitzvah is not a ceremony; it happens to a Jewish boy at the age of thirteen even if no ceremony occurs. All it means is that the Jew becomes responsible for his own actions in the eyes of God. It is akin to turning eighteen, and becoming an adult in the eyes of the law."
"Cantor Gross." Lincoln leaned forward. He felt tears on the side of his face. "Joseph is my only son, my only family. He is all that I have left. I beg of you, would you please do this? You don't know that it isn't the thing to do. It may save him."
The cantor looked deep into Lincoln 's eyes. "There is nothing logical in your request, but I must agree. I don't know that it won't work."
He stood up. "Let me return to the synagogue and get a siddur and chumash."
"Chumash?" Lincoln asked.
"The Torah, Mr. Kliman, with all the passages we recite aloud on shabbat as the year progresses. Surely you know what the Torah is."
"Yes," Lincoln said quietly.
"Very well," the cantor said as he headed towards the door. "I shall return soon, and with God's help, we shall teach the boy to fight the curse of the dead with the ancient songs of life."
"Repeat after me, Joseph:
Baruch atah…"
"Baruch atah," the boy said weakly.
"No," said the cantor. "Sing it. As I am."
"Why do I have to sing? It hurts so much."
"It is a Hasidic custom, Joseph. It will help you concentrate your thoughts to the spiritual task at hand. Listen again…"
Lincoln closed the door of the bedroom behind him and sat down to read. The song of the cantor filtered out through the closed door, haunting and lilting. It was a chant that went up and down in pitch, but always seemed to hover around the same notes. Its effects were so hypnotic, that Lincoln forwent his book, closed his eyes, and leaned back to contemplate the past.
He remembered his own Bar Mitzvah ceremony, and the agony that led up to it for almost half a year. Every Wednesday afternoon he had gone to the cantor's office to learn his Torah portion, the verses of the Torah that he would be expected to sing on the Saturday morning of the ceremony. Lincoln 's voice was not good, and its cracking had embarrassed him.
Finally, the day arrived. He had stood in front of a large synagogue filled with his parents' friends, and a few of his own. He was called to the Torah, and trembling with nervousness, somehow he had managed to get through it.
The very next week his parents pulled him out of Hebrew School. They had never been particularly religious anyway. Lincoln 's Bar Mitzvah had been solely a social thing, and once it was over, they had felt no need for Lincoln to continue his Jewish studies.
Perhaps they had been mistaken.
Lincoln blinked, and realized that he was back in his apartment. He was surprised to see that many hours had passed. The cantor's music had been so powerful that it had felt to Lincoln as if he had actually been sent back in time to relive his own Bar Mitzvah. He strained to hear the final words of song coming from his son's bedroom.
"… nosain hatora-ah." Was that his son's voice, sounding so strong?
A minute later, the cantor opened the door and approached Lincoln. He had a sad look on his face. "It did not work. I helped the boy sing today's parsha, with the appropriate blessings before and after, but it did not work."
He sat down across from Lincoln and said, "I did not think it would."
"But your music-your singing-so beautiful."
The cantor nodded. "Thank you. But it takes more than beautiful singing to ward off a curse."
He leaned back, removed his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I still do not understand how this is possible, Mr. Kliman, how a Jew could be turned into a vampire. Nothing in our history, in our legends, would account for it. A Jew simply ca
Lincoln coughed and cleared his throat. "Ummm."
The cantor peered at him. "What is it, Mr. Kliman? Was there something you did not tell me?"
"Well…" Lincoln shifted in his seat. "Cantor, I didn't want to admit this before, but…" He trailed off.
"But what? How can I help the boy if you don't tell me what I need to know?"
"Joseph's not Jewish," he blurted out.
There was a moment of silence. "You are Jewish, are you not?" the cantor asked.
"Yes," Lincoln whispered.
"Then his mother-"
"She wasn't."
The cantor sighed. "
Oy. You know that by Jewish law, the boy follows the religion of the mother. What was she?"
Lincoln shrugged. "I don't know. Christian of some sort, I guess. We were both agnostic when we met, and I never really bothered to find out, since we never celebrated any holidays anyway."
"You lied to me, Mr. Kliman. You said your son was Jewish."
"I know. I'm sorry. But like I said, I would never have felt comfortable asking a priest or a reverend for help. I may not practice my religion much, Cantor, but I would never-"
The cantor interrupted. "A thought occurs to me. Was the boy ever circumcised?"
"Well, yes. By a doctor in the hospital when-"
The cantor leaped out of his seat, startling Lincoln. "That may be it." He marched towards the bedroom door.
"What may be it?" Lincoln asked.
The cantor stopped short and turned back to Lincoln. "The boy may yet be saved. The vampirism is affecting him because technically, he is not Jewish. And yet, he has your Jewish blood within him. So I shall make the vampire think he is Jewish."
"You mean-"
"I mean that I shall convert him."
Lincoln sputtered. "But-but-I thought conversion was something that took study, and time!"
The cantor gave him an odd look. "You know little of the ways of your own people, and yet you are familiar with the conversion ceremony?"
"Um-it's a long story. My wife wasn't Jewish, but my parents wanted her to convert."
The cantor nodded. "A familiar pattern. The parents who never teach their child about Judaism, and are surprised when he chooses to marry outside the tribe. At any rate, you are correct. A real conversion requires the person converting to study Judaism, and present his or her knowledge to a
Bes Din, a court of three rabbis. A man must undergo circumcision, or if he is already circumcised, a tiny drop of blood is sufficient. Then he must be brought to the mikvah, the ritual pool, to be immersed and to make a blessing that declares his decision to become Jewish. And none of this can be done on shabbes.