The Virtue of Sin

by Shannon Schuren

  When I don’t respond, he grabs my shirt and shakes me. “Miriam’s in danger, man. Don’t you care? Look, I know it hurts. Trust me, I’ve been there. But if you still care about her at all, you’ve gotta help me help her.”

  I open my eyes. He’s standing much too close, and his breath is terrible. “She doesn’t want my help.”

  “Doesn’t matter. She needs us. They all do. What do you think is going to happen once Daniel opens that stupid book?”

  “It’s not stu—”

  “It doesn’t matter! Think about it! He’s got the entire city crammed in there, and he’s about to tell a bunch of them they’re going to Hell. People are gonna freak out. It’ll be anarchy, and that’s best-case scenario.”

  My mouth is dry, and I have to swallow twice before I can ask, “What’s the worst case?”

  Aaron shrugs. “He kills them.”

  “You’re crazy,” I whisper. “He isn’t—he wouldn’t—”

  “He is. He would. What the fuck do you think he was trying to do to us?”

  No. He’s wrong. I’ve lost too much already. Miriam, Daniel’s favor. I can’t believe this. I won’t. “Maybe he wasn’t trying to kill us at all. Maybe it was a test. The lion’s den.” I push myself off from the wall. “That makes more sense than your stupid idea.”

  He rubs his hands over his face, as if trying to scrub something away. His own doubts? “Fine,” he finally says. “You don’t have to believe me. I just need you to help me get inside. And then keep your mouth shut, at least until we know what’s going on. Maybe you’re right,” he offers, though he’s clearly lying. “In that case, cool. I’ll back off. But for right now, let’s just watch and listen. For Miriam’s sake,” he adds.

  He’s manipulating me. But the truth is, I’m not as certain of Daniel’s motives as I pretended. Or of my reception. Daniel may not have tried to kill us firsthand, but he did leave us down there while he called everyone else to Chapel. “Okay,” I say. “We can probably get in the back way without anyone seeing us.” I lead him around to the other door. “Daniel uses this sometimes when he wants to slip in or out quickly.”

  The door leads to a dark alcove that wraps around the back corner of the sanctuary. There’s a small washroom off to one side; on the other, a velvet curtain separates us from the stage where Daniel preaches. When I turn around, Aaron has a gun.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “It was hidden under the back seat of the van. I grabbed it just before Daniel arrested us.”

  “So you’ve had it the whole time? Why didn’t you use it on the snakes?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t shoot a gun in a cave.”

  He raises the gun in the air as he pulls the door quietly shut, then checks the washroom.

  “Who are you?” I ask, my suspicions growing.

  “Who knows about this area?” he asks, ignoring my question.

  “I’m not sure. The Security team. Maybe some of the Council Members? They aren’t supposed to use it, though. It’s strictly for Daniel.”

  “Good.” He almost smiles, then waves me off to the side before moving the curtain with one finger.

  The Council Members are seated in the front row, facing the stage. Behind them, some community members sit in pews while others mill about, trying to find seats. Marcus is in the second row, behind Mother and Father, and Aaron’s parents are right behind him. I step closer to the curtain to peek through at the faces, the fathers and mothers and Brothers and Sisters, all my friends and neighbors. They look nervous. Some are openly crying. I suppose no matter how righteous any of us believe we’ve behaved, we’ve all done something we’re ashamed of. Right now, everyone is united in one prayer: Please, Lord, let me be worthy.

  I study my father, who looks more confident than my mother. He shouldn’t. I’ve been waiting for his Judgment Day for a long time.

  Daniel sweeps onto the stage, dressed in his purple sacramental robes. I drop the curtain and step back. Did he see me?

  But his attention is on his audience. “It has been a terrible week of sin in New Jerusalem. I’m sure there is no need to remind you I foretold this.” He sounds as if he blames them all for our downfall. “Some have already been Judged, but there is worse still to come, and we must guard against it.”

  Already been Judged. Does he mean me and Aaron? Or Delilah, maybe? Either way, none of us were Judged. We didn’t receive a trial or have a chance to repent and be saved.

  “These sinners are a cancer that will spread throughout the community if we let them,” he continues. “We must cut them from our midst.”

  I peer through the crack again, in time to see them all nod, some more vehemently than others. I shiver in spite of the stuffy room, my damp clothes clinging to me like mold. Cut us. Is that what he was doing, leaving us in the pit? And Azariah? Did he really run, like we’ve always been told? Into the tunnels? Or was he cut, too?

  “The time has come, my followers. Today, the Book of Truth will be opened; the righteous will be revealed.” Daniel grabs the Book from the podium in the center of the stage and holds it aloft. Some people gasp, others look grim. “As you know, this Book was delivered to me, sealed by God, until the Time of the End. It is as He told me: ‘At that time your people—everyone whose name is found written in the Book—will be delivered. And many who sleep in the dust of the earth will awake, some to everlasting life, but others to shame and everlasting contempt. The wise will shine like the brightness of the heavens, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever.’”

  “Hallelujah!” they exclaim, as one. The Elders kiss their crucifixes.

  “Blessed is the one who reads the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear and obey what is written in it. Because the time has come!” Daniel proclaims.

  He opens the Book, wax crumbling to the floor as he cracks the seal. As one, the congregation falls to their knees and bows their heads.

  Sweat drips down my forehead, and I glance at Aaron. His face looks gray, his lips pressed so tightly together they’ve gone white.

  Daniel settles the Book on the podium. The room is silent as he rustles the pages.

  “Hananiah,” Daniel reads, holding out his outstretched palm toward my father, who merely nods once. As if this is his due. I lunge forward, but Aaron stops me, his arm across my chest. “Not yet,” he whispers.

  “My father is not righteous,” I say, my voice quivering with rage. “He is a monster.”

  Aaron nods, as if no other explanation is necessary. My whole life, my word has meant nothing next to my father’s. That Aaron, this nonbeliever, should accept it outright takes the breath from my anger.

  “Judith,” Daniel calls out, and my mother rises up, her hands held heavenward.

  “Isaiah.” Daniel reads the name of my younger brother, the one after Marcus.

  My heart is pounding. So is my head. I thought maybe the Elders’ names were being read first, but he must be going according to family. Which means he skipped both Marcus and me.

  My mother starts to wail, until my father silences her with a look. Matthew, my youngest sibling, gazes up at Marcus, his lip quivering. Marcus merely folds his hands and bows his head.

  I didn’t think my name would be included. But I expected something more than damnation by default—some expression of regret at our loss, or a last chance for repentance. So what now? Despite Aaron’s insistence, Daniel doesn’t try to hurt Marcus, or eject him from Chapel. He doesn’t even look at him.

  Daniel makes his way through the rest of my family, concluding with Matthew. Then he moves on to Mishael, whose name is included, along with his wife. I don’t know them very well, but well enough to be surprised. Though maybe the Elders have had more time to repent. Or maybe some sins are just worse than others.

  “Susanna.”

 
“What?” The word explodes from me, and this time Aaron is too late to hold me back.

  “Shit.” He fades into the background as I burst onto the stage.

  Daniel startles at the sight of me, his eyes widening and his arm trembling as he lifts it to point. “Caleb.” He thunders out my name, holding one hand toward me and lifting the other toward the chandelier, which sways above him.

  Is he still reading from the Book? There is a long pause, as Daniel holds my fate in his hands.

  “Her name cannot be in the Book,” I say, taking advantage of the silence. It’s bad enough that my father is in there. And Mishael. I have seen the way he looks at the young girls. But Susanna? “She is the whole reason Marcus was led astray. The women tempt. That’s what you’ve always taught us! And she, she is the worst. She gossips. And she lies. I think she may have been unfaithful to her husband. She tried to seduce me!”

  Susanna has risen to her feet, and she narrows her eyes at me now. The rest of the congregation starts to whisper among themselves.

  Even Daniel looks flustered. “Our lost sheep,” he says, trying to deflect from my accusations and draw the crowd’s attention back. “You wandered from the herd and got tangled within the brambles of sin. God ordered you to the lion’s den. And yet you have survived.”

  He moves to the front of the stage, talking more to the crowd than to me. He sounds angry, but he should be proud—both at my escape and the fact that I figured out the lion’s den analogy. I’m finally starting to understand how his mind works.

  Then I see the congregation, watching avidly as Daniel paces at the front of the stage, and a dizzying sense of dread strikes like a blow. Is this the lion’s den?

  “Come here, Brother.” He holds out his hand, inviting me forward, so that we are standing left of center, directly in front of my parents. “Tell us of your ordeal. If God has saved you, He must intend for you to have a chance at repentance.”

  My limbs feel strangely heavy as I lift my feet to walk toward him. Chapel is much cooler tonight, especially after the rain, but my breath is shallow, and sweat runs in rivers down my back.

  “What about Susanna?” I repeat. “Why is her name in the Book?”

  “‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,’” Daniel says, gripping my shoulder. “You alone have the chance to redeem yourself, Caleb. So I will ask again. Are you ready to repent?”

  Me alone? Why is he trying to offer me a way out? I search the audience for Marcus. Was his sin really so much worse than mine? Or does Daniel have some other reason for offering me Salvation while he damns my brother?

  “Caleb’s right.”

  Everyone swivels toward the doorway, to Miriam, who stands at the end of the center aisle. “Susanna’s name shouldn’t be in that book,” she says. “And neither should Daniel’s.”

  56

  MIRIAM

  As I approach the stage, Phoebe hands me a microphone. I’ve never used one before, but I’ve seen Daniel, when his voice gives out after hours of preaching. I press the button on the side, and a shriek echoes through the room.

  I’m not going to wait for him to expose me. I’m ready to speak now. I’m just not sure what I’m going to say.

  As I climb the stairs to the stage, Daniel watches me, his flowing robes bathed in white light. In that moment, he looks more like the prophet he never was than I’ve ever seen him. On another day, in another life, I’d be drawn to him. Now, I see the illusion for what it is, and I’m repelled.

  He falters when he sees my face, but it doesn’t take him long to recover. His eyes roll back in his head, and I know what is about to happen. My heartbeat quickens. After so many years of relying on Daniel’s visions, it’s an automatic response. My first thought, however, is that his visions come at very convenient times.

  My second is that Phoebe is right. I know what she was trying to tell me, and I know how to end this. It was never my dreams I should have been listening to. It was my heart.

  “I have had a vision!” I yell, before Daniel can speak the words, and my voice booms out, filling the room.

  Suddenly, I’m bathed in a circle of blue light. I’ve never stood up here, before the crowd as the center of attention. The feeling is electric. I can say anything in this moment. And they will listen.

  “A vision of a boy. Who dreamt of wonderful things, or so he said. An oasis in the desert. A cave with the handwriting of God. A Path that leads to the stars of Heaven. He also dreamt of terrible things. War and suffering, death and destruction.” I pace, like I’ve seen Daniel do a thousand times, though I keep to the opposite side of the stage from Daniel and Caleb. Everyone else remains rooted in place, fixated on my story.

  “The trouble is, some of the dreams were lies. But the people—his children—they were so used to believing the dreams, believing the Prophet, they couldn’t tell the difference anymore.” I see Daniel out of the corner of my eye. He’s trying to interrupt, but my voice drowns him out. No one seems to mind. They’re riveted.

  “He told them he would always protect them, as long as they obeyed. As long as they submitted to God’s will. But it wasn’t God’s will at all. It was his.”

  Daniel motions for his guards, but they aren’t paying him any attention. For the moment, he’s powerless.

  I know the feeling.

  The book is still lying open on the podium. Daniel reads something in my expression and moves toward it. But I’m quicker.

  People gasp as I snatch it from his reach.

  “Don’t worry,” I say, putting the podium between me and Daniel. “I understand. You’re afraid. I was, too. I was afraid to be judged for the things I’ve done. But look inside.” I hold it up, open. Some of them turn away in fear, but many crane their necks for a better view, and I move forward to give it to them.

  “This isn’t God’s handwriting. It’s Daniel’s. These people haven’t achieved Salvation. They’ve just traded their lives to a false prophet, in exchange for a bunch of empty dreams.”

  Daniel’s face is red. He snaps his fingers in Phoebe’s direction, but her seat is empty.

  “Daniel got so used to getting what he wanted,” I continue, “he thought he was owed it. But he didn’t open this book to reward us for our faith. No, this is a punishment. For his own failures. He didn’t call us all here today because of some prophecy.”

  “So why are we here?” Caleb’s voice isn’t as loud as mine, but it carries from the side of the stage, where he’s been standing, frozen, since I came in.

  “It’s about the Matrimony,” I tell him.

  I don’t know why it took me this long to figure it out.

  “Daniel was angry,” I say. “We all knew that. But I also knew someone was feeding him information. How else could he know about Aaron’s snakebite?” I look for Aaron in the crowd, but he’s not there. Neither is Abraham. I see only Sarah, sitting alone, her expression grim. “Or the wine? Or that I threatened to look for Delilah, the night we Gathered at the Dining Hall?” Caleb winces at this.

  “But what I didn’t understand was why he cared. Was it because he wanted control? He does like to control us; look at our lives, our Lessons. Our marriages. All planned out in advance. Except for this year. This year, someone made a mistake.

  “Have none of you asked yourselves what happened at the Matrimony?” I turn toward where my parents usually sit, but the light blinds me, and I can’t tell if my mother is there. “I know you all questioned it. But God forbid we speak up.”

  Daniel finally runs over to the speakers and pulls the cords. The room goes quiet.

  But I’m not done.

  “Well, you should have,” I yell. It’s the loudest I’ve ever been in my life, and the sound of my own voice echoing off the walls gives me chills. “Because it had nothing to do with God. And everything to do with her.” I point to Susanna, sitting in the front row. She
shifts and crosses her legs, arching one eyebrow.

  “He’s told us he has no interest in our marriages, other than as God’s interpreter. But like so much else he’s said, that was a lie. It isn’t the voice of God who decides who the men choose. It’s Daniel. And for some reason this year, he wanted Aaron to choose Susanna. At first, I couldn’t figure it out. Why those two? But then I realized—this is his pattern.”

  I look for Phoebe, but can’t find her either. Hopefully, this is what she meant when she told me to end this.

  “You see, he never planned for Susanna to stay married. He simply needed to give her to a man who he could later identify as a sinner. That way, he could Banish Aaron, and then move Susanna into the Council House with him.”

  Susanna’s smile is frozen, but her eyes have narrowed to slits. If she could maim me right now, I’ve no doubt she would. But her sharp tongue is her best weapon, and it’s useless against the truth.

  Beside her, Mishael’s face is bright red, while Marcus has lost all color. “That’s why he’s so angry with you,” I tell him. “You took something Daniel wanted for himself. See, it worked so well for him the first time. With Phoebe, after Azariah ran off. Except it wasn’t Phoebe’s husband who made Naomi with child. It was Daniel. He stole her baby and tossed her out, like a piece of trash. He destroyed her. And then he took Phoebe in. The kind, benevolent Leader. No one else would touch her, because of the Shame. No one except Daniel.”

  My voice is the only sound in the room. I don’t know if anyone else is even breathing.

  “You doubt me, but Daniel is a sinner. And I have proof.”

  As much as they believe in him, they are now equally enraptured by me, at least temporarily. As much as they want to believe I’m lying, they also want to see my evidence. So I hold my arms wide.

  “I am the proof. I am his daughter. Blood of his blood. Flesh of his flesh. How many of you knew? Some of you must have guessed.