understand.
The boy comes back with the bolt cutters.
Rebbe Moishe takes them, looks again at the arrow, holds it steady where it sticks from Lydia’s skin, fits the cutter around the shaft and firmly snips off the tip.
He takes two large paper-wrapped pads of gauze from his bag and rips them open.
– Some blood?
Axler shakes his head, points at Vendetta.
– We gave it to Hannah.
Harm turns in her seat and looks at him.
– Her name is Vendetta, dickface.
– Fuck off, slut.
– Better a slut than a mama’s boy.
– Whore, if it wasn’t for you, none of this would have happened!
– Sure, fucking blame us for wanting to have our own lives instead of being little baby factories for you small-dicked godmonkeys.
– The temple!
They look at the Rebbe.
– A little peace in the temple? Yes? Please? And if not peace, the imitation of it? And less of this language? A little respect.
Harm turns away.
– Fuck you too, Uncle Moishe.
Axler points at her.
– See, see, that’s how she is. I don’t even want her, Papa, I don’t even want to marry her, let alone have a child with her.
Harm gives a bark.
– Not to worry, cousin, you won’t be marrying me. And you sure as fuck won’t be doing anything with me to make a baby.
– Enough! Yes? Enough? Now. Enough. Axler, you said Leah and Rachel are here, yes?
– Yes, Papa.
– Can either give blood?
– Leah is on her period. Rachel gave some to David and to Matthew.
– How much?
– A pint.
– She is a healthy girl. She can give more. Bring her here.
One of the boys leaves and Axler goes to the altar for a small wood box with a bit of cloth wrapped around it.
Moishe presses one gauze pad around the shaft of the arrow where it emerges from Lydia’s neck, takes the other end of the arrow in his right hand, and draws it out in a long, smooth motion and drops it and claps another pad at the opposite end of the wound. Both pads are quickly stained red.
He cranes his neck and looks at me.
– She is something to you?
– Not much.
– Too bad for you. A beautiful girl. And strong. As much as she has bled out, she should be dead. But a little fresh blood, she will be heartened. She’ll be weak, but well enough.
He looks back at Lydia.
– That you should care so little for this woman. A shame. They are everything to us, our women. Everything comes from them. Our blood. Our faith. The Tribe of Benjamin would have died long ago. The women in our tribe, they can trace back to Benjamin, one of the sons of Jacob. Grandfather of the twelve tribes. Without the women, none of this is passed on.
Axler comes down the aisle with the box.
The Rebbe peels the gauze from the wounds on Lydia’s neck.
– See how strong she is? Wounds closed. So little blood, still strong enough to heal that much.
He takes the box from his son, unwraps the piece of cloth, drapes it over his shoulders, kisses the top of the box, says a prayer, opens it and takes out a small single-edged knife with a silver handle.
– This is why Hannah and Sarah are so important to us, yes?
Harm looks at the ceiling.
– Our names are Vendetta and Harm.
Moishe shakes the knife.
– Call yourself what you like, young lady, your names are Hannah and Sarah.
– What
He sets the little box aside.
– My sister’s girls. Is it a surprise they are as willful as she was? No.
He presses the knife to his forehead, mumbles another prayer, takes it away.
– My sister, running off to join the circus, of all things.
– It ain’t a circus, Moishe, it’s a freak show.
He faces Stretch.
– What did I say, Abe? About being quiet and listening, what did I say? Did I say to try doing that? I did. I’m certain I did.
Stretch lets out a long sigh and leans his head against the back of the pew and closes his eyes.
– Fine, I’m listening. Tell me when you want to stop fucking around and let me and my girls out of here.
The kid comes back with one of the Lucys that drove them around. A big girl, dark complexion, dark hair mostly hidden by a scarf, a plain long skirt and a blouse that matches the ones they put on Harm and Vendetta. She smells fresh, alive, the only thing I’ve smelled here that doesn’t carry the Vyrus. All the blood I’ve lost, my mouth starts to water.
She goes to Moishe.
– Rebbe.
He cradles her cheek in his palm.
– Rachel.
He looks at me.
– This girl, a treasure. Pure faith in God.
– And in you, Rebbe.
– Shht, nonsense. A sin to even say it.
– I’m sorry, Rebbe.
He smiles.
– Don’t be sorry. I tease, I’m teasing. See, a good girl. She understands. Rachel. A wife of Jacob. And Leah, another wife, yes? Mothers of the twelve tribes.
He bares the girl’s forearm, revealing a long series of scars, white slash marks down the length of her arm.
– The word my son used,
He grins.
– These girls have never seen a pig, let alone eaten any part of one.
He kisses her forehead.
– Blessed and washed and dieted as proper Jewesses. Blood like this, it is all that will do for us. She is not the only one, of course. But still, there are not enough like her. We’re forced to hunt in Bensonhurst and Borough Park and Bay Ridge. But these girls are the only way to be certain the blood is truly kosher. From one who keeps kosher. We’ve tried buying. Of course we have. But the market is an unsure thing, yes? One is never certain of what one is getting, yes? And not all merchants understand the importance of this to us. Rachel, she is a blessing. A true daughter of Benjamin.
