The Tithe

by Elle Hill

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” Josh blurted as she reached her.

  Lynna nodded and looked at RJ, who sat beside her, knotted to her through their clasped hands. “RJ tells me amazing things happened last night. I’m afraid I fainted when I started rising.”

  “The angel let you go,” Josh said.

  Lynna leaned toward her. “She also says there was some kind of scuffle between you and the . . . angel.”

  Is that all RJ knew? Josh merely nodded. “I guess I’m glad we’re both okay,” she said. Then, she looked at RJ. “I’m sorry about your friend, RJ.”

  “Thanks,” RJ said. She barely glanced at Josh, and her expression looked closed off. Almost losing Lynna must have terrified her, perhaps reminded her of her helplessness. How awful to find you’d lost your friend, instead?

  “Are you all right?” Lynna asked. “You look kind of pale.”

  Everything has changed.

  “I’m fine,” Josh said. “Last night was . . . difficult for me to make sense of.” She turned involuntarily to Blue, who sat in his usual position, his face pointed in its usual direction, his expression arranged into its usual, well, lack.

  “Jule was back today, asking you to reconsider your decision,” Lynna reported.

  “Who?”

  “The girl who came her asking you to marry her and her girlfriend.”

  They chatted on, just a group of people discussing the day’s events, their experiences with angels ignored.

  Come late evening, Josh kept glancing at Blue. When Lynna left to grab water, she murmured to him, “Are we safe?”

  “Yes,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t leave my embrace again and you’ll be safe.”

  “All of us?”

  “You, Josh.”

  “I want us all safe,” she insisted.

  “I can’t,” he said.

  All those times. All of his insistences that he could protect her. All those times spent under the cloak, shivering in terror, he had been protecting her, keeping her, from the angel.

  She shook her head. “I can’t, either. It’s not right.”

  “Josh, no,” he said, and the usual serenity of his voice and features cracked, very slightly.

  “It’s not right,” she whispered.

  “One more night, and we’ll talk later.”

  “Blue . . .”

  “If you don’t,” he said, and his voice vibrated with intensity, “you will be taken tonight.”

  She put a hand to her mouth, voiceless, breathless.

  When the angel came, Blue grabbed her and held her tightly against him. “Don’t go,” he whispered to her.

  It was shameful. If not a sin, it was surely unethical.

  In spite of all that, she let him keep her safe.

  “A man died tonight because of me,” Josh said as soon as the bedroom door closed behind her and Blue.

  They both sat on the bed.

  “Thank you for letting me protect you tonight,” Blue said.

  “He died, Blue, because of me.”

  “So what?”

  She gaped at him. “Don’t you care about the other Tithes you’ve spent almost four weeks with?” She remembered after saying it that he wasn’t a Tithe, or not exactly.

  “If the angel takes you today, Marlo would have gone tomorrow or some other day. All I did was take one variable from the game. And not really.”

  “Not really what?”

  “I don’t really care about the rest of them. I’m sorry those who love them will feel the way I would if you were gone, but I don’t care enough to put them before you. You are the only thing that matters. Everything else is noise.”

  He’d never lied to her about that. “Why can’t you save all of us?” she asked.

  “I’m not that strong,” he said. “I’m not even strong enough to keep you safe forever. I can make sure you’re the last Tithe, but when the last angel comes, you won’t stay with me.”

  A small part of her insides hiccupped at that. She wasn’t sure why it hurt her. Surely she hadn’t thought he could rescue her from her fate?

  “If it’s just a matter of time, of days, why bother?” she asked quietly.

  His eyes remained placid, but his jaw clenched. “If I can keep you here one more minute, I will do it. You are so important to these people, Joshua. They need your guidance and your kindness. A world with no Joshua Barstow . . .” His eyes appeared to gaze above her head. “And me,” he said, “I don’t want to be without you for one second.”

  “But the other Tithes . . .”

  “I’m not you, Joshua,” he said calmly. “Your words are kind, but they won’t make a difference. I accept that I am not the compassionate being you are. I would give anything, from my existence as I’ve known it to every single Tithe in this bunker, to keep you here one more day.”

  She remained silent for a long time.

  “But what if I asked you to let me get taken?” she finally asked.

  He hesitated for a moment. “Please don’t.”

  “Would you hold me here against my will?”

  Blue stood up from the bed, walked to the door, and then came back. Still standing, he said, “Don’t make me give you up.”

  “How do you know the angel will take me if you don’t protect me?”

  “I can hear them whispering your name,” Blue said, facing the back wall.

  Josh shuddered. “Why? They’re not audible.”

  “But I can still hear them.”

  “Why?” she repeated.

  “They’re curious about you. They know why I became Blue.”

  “How many are there?” She thought she remembered something about him saying “angels” one day and her wondering if he thought there were more than one.

  “That come here? A few. We—they switch. Humans are so full of time and space and experiences. Each one tastes so rich and unique and—”

  “Dear heavens, do the angels eat us?” Josh cried.

  Blue smiled at her. “A metaphor. I’m sorry. I still don’t know how to apply concrete words to such insubstantial things.” He paused. “I know you’re the most curious person alive, but can we stop talking about this for now?”

  “I . . .” Josh stopped, took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do about this.”

  “Whether you should allow me to protect you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve given me countless gifts, Joshua. Please let me give you this small one in return. It’s the only thing I can do for you.”

  She inhaled. “I don’t know,” she said. “Let me think about it.”

  They removed their shoes and lay down carefully in the bed. Blue hesitated before sliding into bed behind her. “May I touch you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she whispered. It was the only thing that made sense right now.

  “Good morning,” Blue said.

  Josh turned over and pressed her face into his shoulder. He put his arms around her.

  “Is it worse to have sex before marriage or get married before the marriageable age?” she asked.

  She felt a small sigh; it reminded her of being back at the rab’ri.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Blue said.

  “What does that mean?”

  He wouldn’t elaborate.

  She touched his face. “I’ve kissed you hundreds of times. Is that a sin?”

  “What do you think?” he whispered.

  “I think even if it is, I would rather sin than stop.” But deep inside her, in a place of warmth and softness, she didn’t think it was. How could this much happiness dishonor Elovah?

  She kissed him.

  An hour or so later, they emerged from their room and headed to their respective bathrooms.

  “Call if you need anything,” Blue said, as he did every morning.

  “I will,” she promised. Only two days ago, she’d thought him the annoying-but-sweet, self-appointed protector. Now . . . Josh Barstow, with her angelic bodyguard.

/>   She shook her head as she stepped into the bathroom and placed her toothbrush and paste on the sink. This morning, nature called much more loudly than dental hygiene, so she shuffled to the nearest stall.

  Josh didn’t know who’d designed these metal doors, but it obviously—

  A force from behind sent her hurtling to the stall door. Her body crashed; her nose made a squishing noise. Josh cried out. Her hands scrabbled against the rough metal of the door, but she still slid downward.

  “You’re impossible to keep upright,” a male voice growled behind her.

  On the ground, Josh pushed against the concrete, trying to turn around and fend off her assailant. The man grabbed her hair and yanked her head back toward him. She gasped and waved an arm behind her, trying to snag his wrist.

  “I’ve seen you and that blind man leave the room together too many times to count. You pretend you’re an angel, but you’re a sinner just like the rest of us.”

  “Don’t hurt me,” she breathed.

  The man’s breath spread across the tender flesh of her neck. “Too late.”

  “Don’t hurt me, or he’ll kill you,” Josh said.

  “Thanks for caring,” the man said in amusement.

  The unseen man clutched her hair in his hand, holding her face up from the floor while dragging her backward. Josh clawed and slapped at his hands, but he managed to reach forward on her left and throw open the door to the stall. In the empty room, it boomed and echoed briefly.

  The man yanked her closer to the toilet while Josh clutched his hand and screamed. The bathroom stall closed around her. The toilet loomed.

  The man’s hand lifted the seat and drew her head even farther upward. Josh kicked out feebly, uselessly, with her wasted legs. When that failed, she crossed her much-more powerful arms over the mouth of the toilet, creating a barrier between the water and her head.

  “Godfire,” the man cursed. A great pressure on her back smashed her face into her arms. Her nose throbbed. He must have leaned all his weight on her shoulders, because her arms bowed downward, trembled, ached. She screamed again.

  The porcelain ate into her arms. Her scalp blazed. Her shoulders bent to the point of breaking. Still, she shouted, for help, for Blue, for him to stop.

  The man wound his leg around her body and kicked her elbow. Pain, red and white tinged, burst behind her eyes, but she did not budge.

  Growling, grunting, he used his foot as leverage to pry her arms away from the toilet. When his leg neared her face, she bit him.

  The man punched the side of her head. He must have reacted instinctively and without taking time to put strength behind it, because the blow didn’t hurt nearly as much as everything else he’d done up to that point. Nonetheless, Josh grunted.

  Suddenly, the hand in her hair yanked her violently, horribly, to the right. Josh lost her balance. Her head struck the metal wall of the stall. Before the whiteness faded from behind her eyes, the man jerked her back and stuck her head in the toilet.

  I’m going to die! I’m going to die! I’m going to die, die, DIE!

  She flailed, she punched his legs, she tried to push against the floor. The man rested something heavy, maybe a knee, on her shoulders, keeping her head submerged. White porcelain filled her vision, water flooded her open mouth. She screamed, and bubbles tickled her face.

  Far too soon, her lungs burned. Sparks flared behind her eyes, even though she kept her them open and wide. She wanted to cry out, but her lungs screamed in pain far louder than did her waterlogged voice.

  Her arms grew heavier, her face and chest burned. Josh knew nothing but the whiteness, the pain, and the heaviness. She thrashed, desperate for a gulp of air. Rage, helplessness, and terror bit and clawed her chest.

  Moments later, her movements grew less vigorous. The white porcelain disappeared from her vision.

  The sound suddenly grew less weak and warbly, the pressure on her back less painful. She felt herself moving but couldn’t make sense of what it meant. Her lungs still burned, but she realized she breathed once again.

  Sounds, tastes, and sensations happened, but she couldn’t make patterns form. She lived in grayness for a time, aware but unable to react.

  “Joshua!”

  It was the first word she understood.

  “Joshua, please.”

  A plea. She got it.

  “Are you all right?”

  He sounded desperate, a tone she’d almost never heard from him. Blue.

  She opened her mouth to reassure him, but her jaw popped painfully. Josh groaned.

  “You’re alive,” Blue said, rather obviously, she thought.

  She lay on cold, wet cement. Blue’s hand pressed against the side of her neck.

  Her everything hurt. All right, probably not literally, but her head pounded, her scalp ached, and her arms felt badly glued to her body.

  “I hurt,” she said, and her voice sounded slurred.

  “You’re alive,” Blue said with a fierceness unfamiliar to her.

  “I’m gonna vomit,” she said.

  Blue helped her sit up just enough to turn to the right and pour forth her stomach’s meager contents. She knew she should be humiliated, but her head pounded too fiercely to bother.

  “Are you all right?” Blue asked.

  She opened her eyes, then, and gasped as the brightness of the lights made her stomach roil.

  “I don’t feel well,” she whispered.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he instructed gently.

  “I have to pee,” she said.

  He helped her. Her misery crowded out her humiliation. Emotions felt dampened. She experienced them as though through a wet towel. Still, she felt relief when, moments later, she lay in her bed.

  “My head hurts,” she said quietly. She realized her hair was wet . . . and cold.

  “Did he hurt your head?” Blue asked.

  “I . . . don’t know.”

  “I need to get Quinn,” he said. She watched him pace the room until his movements made her head ache more. “But I can’t leave you here alone.”

  “I’ll be okay,” she muttered, although her stomach still bubbled with nausea. “I won’t vomit while you’re gone.”

  “I’ll run to the end of the hallway, call for Quinn, and run back,” Blue promised before stepping out of the room. He returned not twenty seconds later.

  The next hour crept by in a gray haze. Concussion, Quinn diagnosed. Marcus arrived shortly thereafter and frowned when Josh couldn’t answer his questions.

  “I’ll answer as many as I can,” Blue said, his voice blessedly cool. She wished she could press it against her cheeks. “You can talk to her later.”

  “She needs rest,” Quinn agreed.

  “I’m tired,” Josh whispered.

  “Wake her every few hours to make sure she’s still all right,” Quinn advised. She paused before leaving the room. “Oh, and no more aspirin till you feel better, Josh.”

  “Okay.”

  Marcus and Blue talked, but their words made no sense to her. She imagined the sounds linking together into a great net into which she climbed. The hammock-net rocked her, gently enough not to ignite her nausea, into a woolen sleep.

  Blue awakened her sometime later. Josh mumbled something, answered a question or two, and then sank once more into sleep. The second time he hailed her back into consciousness, she opened bleary eyes and found him sitting on a wooden chair beside the bed.

  “That’s new,” she croaked.

  “What?”

  “The chair.”

  “Marcus brought it. Are you all right?”

  “I’m a little thirsty,” she said. Then, remembering her morning, she shuddered. “You’d think I’d drunk enough.”

  Blue brought a cup to her lips, but she grabbed it from him and held it herself.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.

  Between sips, she told him as much as she could. Most of the experience felt woven from feelings, imp
ressions, and the slow passage of time; the actual event took less than two minutes to tell. It felt like she conveyed only a small fraction of the experience.