The Virtue of Sin Read online

“Poison?” His voice is muffled. “Will I . . . die?”

  “Lie still,” I say, though he hasn’t moved anything except his hand since I fell over him. I pull my scarf from around my neck and wrap it around his ankle—snug, but not so much it cuts off his circulation. I hesitate only a second before I press my mouth to the bite.

  Delilah inhales sharply, and Aaron’s foot jerks, but I hold it firmly and suck a mouthful of blood from his heel, careful not to swallow before I spit it onto the ground beside us. My heart pounds with fear, and my tongue tingles from the venom, but I keep going, sucking and spitting, as I mentally count my sins. I shouldn’t have spied on the boys. I shouldn’t have spoken to this boy, much less touched him.

  “Miriam?”

  The sharp, imperious voice isn’t Delilah’s. Delilah would need more than three syllables to convey that kind of superiority. No—someone else has seen us. Of all the people to witness this, did it have to be Susanna? Her willowy beauty, though the envy of us all, masks the heart of a viper. Though that probably won’t keep her from being chosen first tonight.

  “Did you just touch him? With your mouth?” Susanna steps around the rocks, her words coming out in a hiss, as if by whispering in his presence she will manage to avoid the punishment I am certain to receive. But she’s right; I definitely shouldn’t have put my lips on any part of his body. “What is the quote from James? ‘The tongue is restless evil, full of poison’?”

  I spit one last time into the sand and wipe my mouth. “His foot is full of poison,” I counter. “And you’re forgetting Proverbs. ‘Death and life are in the power of the tongue.’” I don’t even have to search for the quote; it comes as if by magic. There is a buzzing inside my head, a hum with no rhythm. My hands shake and my heart pounds and I am aware of everything at once: the cooling sand beneath my knees, the moon rising behind us like a spirit, the blood flowing through the foot that still lies in my lap. I hastily push it aside and spit again. Maybe I’ve been poisoned.

  “I wonder what Daniel will have to say about your tongue?” asks Susanna.

  Delilah wrinkles her nose. “Aaron was bit by a rattler. Why are we still talking about tongues?”

  “‘Confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another so you may be healed.’” Susanna’s voice is mocking now. “How can you heal, Miriam, if we don’t confess this incident?”

  I shake the sand from my missing sandal and pull it back onto my foot. “What was I supposed to do, let him die?” But we all know there’s no denying I’ve sinned. If Susanna shares what she knows, I’ll be punished for sure.

  “Brothers and Sisters!” Daniel’s voice cuts through my threat. He does see all, even in the dark.

  “People of New Jerusalem!”

  My heart stutters. Our Leader is speaking through the sound system to everyone. Not just us. I haven’t been caught. Yet.

  Muted cheers waft toward us, and then the crowd quiets to hear his message.

  “Tonight, we join in celebration, as the first members of our Second Generation—” Louder cheers this time, and he waits for them to quiet before continuing, “take the next step on their journey to Righteousness!”

  Aaron scrambles to his feet, though I’m not sure if it’s our bickering or Daniel’s words that shock him into mobility.

  “Slow down,” I say. “You’re going to spread the poison otherwise. You need to lie back and elevate your foot.”

  “Stop talking to him,” Delilah pleads. “We need to hear Daniel’s Word.”

  “As you know, the world Outside has become a dark place,” Daniel continues. “The dreams I had in my first lifetime, they are all coming true. People worship at the feet of false idols instead of their One True God. Nations fight wars, driven by great beasts of leaders who’ve been corrupted by the horns of power and greed.” He pauses, and I can feel the crowd hold its breath.

  “The world is doomed. And I dreamt it all. And then I wrote it down. I shared it with the world, in the Bible, as the Book of Daniel, all those years ago, so that many could be saved. It became Gospel. But what happened? They looked, but did not see. They heard, but did not listen. They read, but did not believe. And so the Lord asked me to return. He granted me visions once more and ordered me to gather my flock of dreamers, my True Believers. To build a new city, a new beginning, a New Jerusalem. A sanctuary in the desert. A second chance at Salvation. Seventy years until the Tribulation! Seventy years to save our souls!”

  Another pause. More cheers. It’s a story we’ve all heard many times, the history of how our community came to be. Tonight, with Daniel’s voice echoing hollowly off the mountain, it makes me feel small. Scared. Like everything else, his words are easily swallowed by the vast Outside. But maybe that’s the point.

  “In New Jerusalem, do we fear the Tribulation?”

  We all join the chorus of “no”s, Susanna most fervently.

  “Of course not!” Daniel agrees. “Why would we? For though we know that the world is destined to come to a terrible end, the Children of Daniel shall be spared! Through our dreams, God has called us to Salvation!”

  The crowd grows louder, more excited at this news that isn’t new.

  “You share with me your dreams, and I alone interpret His word. All dreamers worthy shall have their names written in the Book of Truth. And all in the Book shall be delivered! Tonight, let us add the names of these couples to the Book!”

  The crowd erupts into screams and cheers.

  “Is that true?” Delilah asks. “Once we’re married, we’re in the Book? Phoebe never said that.”

  “There’s a lot they don’t tell us,” I say.

  Aaron meets my gaze and bobs his head in silent thanks. Then he bolts, sand churning in his wake as the darkness swallows him whole.

  “He’s stalling,” Susanna says, finger-combing through her lustrous hair.

  “Looked like he was moving pretty quickly to me,” Delilah says.

  “Too quickly,” I add. He’s probably worried about being late for the Matrimony, but he should be looking for one of the nurses. There’s no way to know now if I got all the poison. If I didn’t, running will only spread it faster.

  Susanna smirks and shakes her head. “I wasn’t talking about Aaron.”

  But before we can ask what she means, the microphone squeals a second time, and another voice booms out across the desert. “I choose Susanna.”

  Exclamations drift from the darkness, though I don’t know why anyone is surprised. Delilah rolls her eyes, but Susanna’s face is curiously blank as she says, “He will pay for that.”

  “Who will? You recognize the voice?” I ask. “How? And why will he pay?”

  “Keep faithful, girls.” She leans hard on the last word, an unnecessary reminder she is the first of us to become a woman, before leaving us to head toward the cave in the distance.

  “She makes me so angry, I just want to—”

  “Don’t say it.” Delilah curls slender fingers around my fist. “Don’t let her goad you into sin. Trust me, it’s not worth it. Besides, what are the odds she’ll remember to report your breach, on a night like tonight?”

  I wish I could believe her. Delilah may be willing to burden herself with my secrets, but Susanna will be under no such obligation. Still, that isn’t why I’m mad. Clearly, Susanna knows something about tonight she hasn’t shared with the rest of us.

  We trudge back toward the warmth of the fire. From this distance, I can see the gathered crowd of our friends and family, though I can’t make out any one individual. I halfheartedly scan the sand, looking for evidence of Aaron’s passage. “Do you think he found help?”

  But Delilah isn’t interested in his well-being. “What was it like? Touching him?”

  “I only did it to save him. I didn’t enjoy it,” I say, scrubbing at my lips again, trying to remove any last traces of sand or mem
ories of his skin against mine. I’m glad the darkness hides my face. Because truthfully, a part of me did like it. Not just because he was a boy, or because I saved his life. But because it was my decision to do it. I chose to sin, and I enjoyed it. What does that say about me? About the state of my soul?

  Another strange voice bounces off the mountain, distorted by the echo and the amplification, this time calling Rachel’s name.

  I grab Delilah’s hand and squeeze. “Who do you think he is?”

  Delilah’s shoulders hunch further. “How would we know? Maybe if we knew what order they were choosing in,” she says.

  “Do you think it’s random?” But we both know that’s unlikely. Nothing about our lives is ever left to chance.

  As we come up to the back of the crowd, Phoebe squeezes between us and unclasps our hands, taking them in both of hers. “Girls. Where have you been? And why haven’t you changed?” Even her look of worry as she scans our dusty work clothes can’t mar our teacher’s perfect features. I’ve always thought Phoebe must resemble the Virgin Mary. Only with shorter hair. And minus the virgin part.

  “There was a rattler,” I whisper back, trying to brush the sand and dirt from my apron.

  “We’ve been here in the back the whole time.” Delilah speaks over me, silencing my thoughtless confession.

  “Never mind.” Phoebe pulls us close. “I’ve been trying to find you. I wanted to pray with you. One more time.”

  “Did you pray with Rachel?” That was rude, but I’m honestly curious. Phoebe has never liked Rachel, more because of Rachel’s mother and father than anything Rachel has done.

  Red spots appear on Phoebe’s high cheekbones and she ducks her head. “There wasn’t time,” she says, her voice clipped. “I didn’t expect her to be chosen so early.”

  Delilah chokes back a laugh.

  “That’s not what I meant.” Phoebe squeezes my hand. “Do you have any questions? Before—”

  “Phoebe.” My mother pushes her way through the crowd. She’s shorter than Phoebe, and her covered head next to our teacher’s bare one makes her look a decade older, but she carries herself with a grace that makes up for the rest. “Surely you weren’t about to . . .” She stops without naming Phoebe’s sin, which somehow makes it worse. “You know better.”

  Phoebe bites her lip. “I’m not sure about any of this.”

  Before my mother can respond, before I can ask Phoebe what she means, another voice ripples over our heads in a wave and crashes into the mountain, shattering the calm of the night. “I choose Miriam.”

  Caleb is big, but his voice is smaller than I expected. Soft. Hesitant. My mother’s words echo back at me: The less you expect, the better. Serves me right. My heart pounds furiously as I squeeze Delilah’s hand in goodbye and prepare myself for my future.

  The crowd surges, pushing me forward. My mother grabs my hand, briefly, to help me up over the black jumble of rock, but then she slips away from me and I’m alone, the dark hole of the Marriage Cave yawning at my feet like a mouth that will swallow me whole. I’ve never been this close to the edge of anything.

  A ladder rests at the lip of the pit. I grab the top rung and swing my leg around, but my skirt twists at my ankles and I miss. The crowd buzzes above me as I dangle, the damp clawing at my feet. A sickening sense of familiarity comes over me as my hands slip and I fall into the abyss.

  I’ve had dreams like this.

  Strong arms catch me before I hit the ground.

  Caleb holds me, the two of us bathed in a pool of moonglow from the opening above. This isn’t a dream. It’s real. This is his body pressed against mine, his arms strong around me, his hands hot on my back. But there’s no smile on his face. And suddenly I realize—positioned here, at the bottom of the ladder, he can’t have spoken my name. My head spins. My mouth goes dry.

  What has happened?

  “I wanted . . .” These are the first words I’ve spoken to him in years, but my throat is too tight to finish.

  The desperation in his eyes mirrors my own. “Me too,” he whispers, and an electric jolt surges through me at the sound of his voice.

  Then I’m pulled from his grasp, from the protective alcove where we stand and into a dim, low-ceilinged cave filled with men. My father escorts me, disappointment flickering across his face, or perhaps it’s a trick of the light? The rest of them swim past on waves of heat and confusion, or maybe it’s me who is moving, shoved away from the rock walls scorched by the tongues of a thousand flames and into the center of the cave, where the latest fire still burns low in a pit.

  Our Leader stands on a flat rock at the far end of the cavernous space, casting a long shadow across the wall and completely obscuring the boy beside him. Daniel is like the sun, the source of all light. He holds out his arms to me, and though I don’t intend to move, I’m drawn like a thirsty traveler to water. His voice washes over me like warm rain, though the thunderous beating in my chest drowns out the words. When I step up to meet him, he pries my hand from my neck and joins it with the boy’s, pressing them tightly together within his own. Fingernails gouge my palms; they could be mine.

  “God has sent you a vision of your wife?” Daniel asks.

  “He has.”

  “And which woman does he wish for you to take?”

  “Miriam.”

  And just like that, Aaron and I are married.

  Another man steps forward and holds out a basket. I take it automatically, staring in confusion at the tufts of angora wool and the glittering instruments stabbed between them.

  There are so many things I didn’t know about this night, so many questions my mother wouldn’t answer, and perhaps this is the biggest surprise of all. Not only have I been given to the wrong husband, but I’ve been assigned the wrong livelihood as well.

  Fat tears spatter the wool.

  I am a terrible weaver.

  3

  CALEB

  I am supposed to marry Miriam.

  This knowledge is a certainty, as much a part of me as my blood and bones. So when Aaron—the Outsider—speaks her name, I think I must have misheard. The cave is crowded; his voice is muffled. But then she is in my arms; we speak, and just as quickly, she is gone. Taking vows.

  With Aaron.

  This is a nightmare. Why can’t I wake up?

  I’ve done everything right. I’ve obeyed all of Daniel’s laws. And God’s. I studied. I dreamt. I prayed. It should be me standing next to her. Me shielding her. Me touching her, instead of all the rest. Their fingers on her shoulders, her hair, her face. She’s a married woman now, and I know this is part of the ritual—wives do not have authority over their own bodies—but it bothers me. Aaron is supposed to assert his power as her husband and stop them. So why isn’t he trying? Miriam twists away, and my heart does the same. I clench my fists and try to push through the crowd. But just as my fingers graze her thick curls, Daniel takes a single step forward and everyone else falls back.

  Finally! He prayed with me. He knows God intended me to call her name tonight. I’m not sure why he let this go on so long, but I know better than to ask stupid questions. Daniel will stop this.

  But he doesn’t. Instead, he cups Miriam’s chin. “May this union be blessed.”

  I both wish and fear she’ll say something. Deny Aaron as her husband. Daniel doesn’t like women to speak. Even when spoken to. But surely this is an exception? Someone needs to do it. But she only shakes her head, back and forth. I know the feeling. This is all wrong.

  “Miriam.”

  The whispered voice is Boaz, her father. I don’t know what he wants to say, because he doesn’t speak again. And even though every cell in my body is screaming at me to do something, I can’t. No one interrupts Daniel.

  Shadow flames dance across Daniel’s face as he studies Miriam’s . . . Aaron. But Aaron’s face gives nothing away.<
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  “Marriage is a journey,” Daniel says. “There is no mercy for those who stray from the Path of Righteousness. I suppose only time will tell.”

  “What?” Miriam asks, her voice shaky. “What will time tell?”

  Daniel presses three fingers against her mouth, silencing her, until she winces.

  I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. It isn’t Miriam who’s strayed. Can’t he see that?

  He removes his hand, and she must agree, because she whispers, “Where is my mercy?”

  But Daniel isn’t feeling merciful. He turns his back as Boaz squeezes her hand and pushes her and Aaron into the shadowy doorway of the tunnel that leads back to the city.

  “Caleb.” I don’t know how long Father has been standing beside me, or if he understands the disaster of what’s just happened.

  He snaps his fingers in my face. “Daniel is waiting. Step up to the podium and choose.”

  So, no. Father has no idea that Aaron has just married my wife. He spent many nights questioning my older brother on his choice, but never asked about mine. I wanted to believe it was because he trusted me to make the right decision. But most likely he only asked Marcus because he only cares about Marcus. “I can’t,” I say, trying to sort out what I should do. “Aaron—”

  He puts a hand to my shoulder, as if to shove me, but stops, maybe remembering I’m bigger than him. Ever since Daniel offered me a place on his Security Council and advised me to begin strength training, Father hasn’t raised a hand to me. Tonight would be a bad time to start again.

  “You’re embarrassing me,” he hisses, his jaw clenched. “Go to the podium.”

  He is still my father, and I am still an obedient son. I move as if in a dream, though not a good one. Not like the one where Miriam and I . . .

  “Caleb.” Daniel holds the microphone out to me, and his words are both an invitation and an order. “Be a man. Choose your wife.”

  He’s asking me to join their ranks, and I’ve never wanted anything more. To make decisions. To be taken seriously. To stand beside him and Father as equals. But that’s exactly why I can’t choose. Can’t Daniel see that? A man does the moral thing. Miriam is already someone else’s wife. If I were to say her name now, would that make me an adulterer? Adultery is punishable by Banishment.