Leid turned, and for a moment our eyes were locked.
Her smile waned, and then she looked away.
X
TRIFLES
HELL WAS CERTAINLY SOMETHING. What that something was, I didn’t know.
The four of us stood at the gate of Tehlor’s cephalon, dressed in ballroom attire. I’d been a little self-conscious about our clothes, but in the end all my concern was for nothing.
In Tehlor City, ballroom attire was the norm. Everywhere we looked there were top hats and canes, corsets and fans. Giant zeppelins soared overhead, flashing advertisements of products and upcoming theatrical performances. Classical music blared from speakers somewhere in the distance. The others moved down the steps, unfazed. They’d seen this all before.
I lingered at the gate, mesmerized.
It was dark; Hell was lightless almost all day long, as it was located in the lowest levels of The Atrium. The world was tiny strips of land suspended above a gaseous ocean core. Closer to the core was further from the sun, and light was a luxury reserved only for Heaven. Purgatory, our home, rested somewhere in the middle.
I followed the others, rubbing my arms. I wish I’d brought a jacket.
“Where to now?” I asked after we’d all stopped at a refuel port.
“There,” she nodded, and I followed her eyes.
Belial’s manor could be seen on a floating island above the city. There was a narrow, rocky ledge that led up toward it from the mainland. Very narrow. Like, three-feet-wide narrow.
“Isn’t there another way? Can’t we hitch a ride on a zeppelin?”
Leid ignored me, crossing the port. The others followed, and Adrial glanced over his shoulder. “They don’t exactly accommodate wingless guests often,” he said, smirking.
I gave him a nervous smile, having no other choice but to walk.
I had spent all night and morning trying to come up with a flawless plan of getting Leid here. When I had mentioned the masquerade, my tongue was at the ready to whip out a counterargument at her refusal. But she didn’t refuse. All she’d said was, “That sounds fun.”
It was a bittersweet moment. I’d gotten my wish, but had wasted hours of my time.
And then Zhevraine said she wanted to go as well. Considering those two were about as social as a pair of starving lionesses in a herd of zebras, it was all very shocking. I wasn’t too shocked about Adrial coming, though. He never missed a party in any world.
And here we were, traipsing down a docking station of Tehlor City. Leid wore a scarlet gown, strapless, the fans of her dress leading to black, feathery tips. Zhevraine wore a blue sequined dress that was less fan-like, showing her curves in a way that I’d never noticed them. Adrial and I were dressed in black suits and ties. Men never had to be flashy, thank god. Well, unless you were a demon.
When we reached the ledge that began the narrow upward climb toward Durn Manor, I hung back while the others pressed on. I was floored by their confidence; none of them seemed the least bit concerned that one wrong step would send them plummeting to their deaths. And Leid was wearing four-inch heels, for god’s sake.
“You coming?” called Adrial.
Swallowing hard, I stepped onto the ledge.
Don’t look down, don’t look down.
Silhouettes of demons flew over us, probably laughing at the flightless assholes having to take the unstable, crumbling ledge below. I would have traded my scythes for wings any day.
“It isn’t a tightrope, Alezair!” Adrial teased, the others already across by now. “Want me to toss you a pole?”
“Fuck you,” I shouted back.
Everyone laughed, even Leid.
***
“Put that on, my dear! There’ll be no full-faced individuals beyond this point!”
I glared at the demon guarding Durn’s front entrance. At that moment I couldn’t decide which was more disturbing: him calling me dear or his peacock costume.
Exhaling, I slid the silver sequined mask over my eyes, feeling it scratch the bridge of my nose. Leid, Adrial and Zhevraine also wore their masks. I’d sort of hoped the whole mask bit was optional. Guess not.
“Anonymity is key,” Adrial murmured, leaning in.
My brow raised. “Why?”
He laughed. “What are three things you’d expect to find at a demon masquerade?”
I hesitated. “Alcohol, drugs and …orgies?”
Adrial considered that. “Shit, I hope so.”
Leid shot us a warning look.
He raised his hands. “Well it isn’t a violation to watch, right?” She shook her head and moved inside with Zhevraine, and Adrial sighed. “So much fun, she is. You complain about being around her for a hundred years? Try three.”
I smirked, following.
Pillars lined the foyer, their tops set ablaze like torches. A scarlet rug served as a walkway toward another set of demons dressed as hares guarding the ballroom. They were holding clipboards, asking people their names. Apparently this was an exclusive event.
“Names!” the hare on the right barked when we approached, not even bothering to look up.
Leid said nothing, removing her mask. Eventually the demon’s eyes rose, and widened.
“Dreisel, look! It’s the Justice Commander!” His attention drifted to the rest of us. “The entire Celestial Court has graced us with their presence! What an exciting evening this is turning out to be, wouldn’t you say?”
“Quite!” the hare on the left agreed.
…Seriously?
They stepped aside, allowing us entry. “Please, go in!” the hare on the right urged. “Master Belial will be very pleased to see you all! This’ll be great publicity for us!”
I didn’t see how; The Atrium’s police had just shown up to their party.
“Where is Master Belial?” Leid inquired.
The hare turned and pointed somewhere in the ballroom.
“Oh, and don’t forget to pick up a ticket by the hors d’oeuvres for a chance to win some prizes!”
“Thank you,” she muttered, moving through the door.
The ballroom was an open circle of sparkling marble floor, red velvet drapes that hung from second floor verandas, white scaffolds and demons in masks, suits and gowns, gliding across the room. They laughed and shouted while non-dancing groups crowded around the wall and near the refreshments table by the entrance.
All of this would have been a delightful sight, if not for a string quartet sodomizing their instruments. The music was like nails on a chalkboard, and I winced, covering my ears. Adrial slapped my arms down, warning not to insult anyone.
Confusion led me to wonder how these demons were dancing to this. How could they? There was no rhythm. In fact the crowd moved out of synch; each pair had a rhythm of their own.
Zhevraine and Leid had vanished. I didn’t even notice them leave.
Adrial nudged me, nodding toward the refreshments table. Fuck yeah; maybe alcohol would make this music hurt less.
He handed me a glass from a tray that one of the servers was carrying. He was dressed as a tree. I was getting the idea that there was a theme going on here, but couldn’t really decipher which.
“So, what are you going for tonight? A gentle buzz or something that’ll knock you flat onto your ass in two cups?”
Before us was an infinite amount of punchbowls containing liquids of various shades. I had a feeling none of these were wine. I really wanted to stay away from the black stuff, so I nodded at the green.
Adrial grinned, dipping the ladle. “Bravo. I commend you for your courage.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Let’s just say at the last social gathering, Naberius Uhnem woke up naked in a hedge from only two rounds of that.”
“Pussy.”
He handed me the glass. I looked into it, wary.
“Cold feet?” Adrial asked, smirking.
I frowned. Bombs away.
At first the taste was surprisingly pleasant; gre
en apples spiced with cinnamon. Soon to follow was a bitter, propanol aftertaste packing so much heat it was like some jerkoff had spiked it with tabasco sauce. I doubled over, coughing violently. Adrial clapped.
Meanwhile, a demoness in a violet gown and silver mask walked up to us, an enormous reel of raffle tickets hanging from her arm.
“Gentlemen,” she addressed us, curtseying, “please take a ticket courtesy of Durn Manor.”
Adrial shook his head. “Thank you, my dear, but we can’t accept any prizes you have to offer.”
“What prizes?” I asked.
“Only a single night with the most beautiful maidens from Belial’s Court, handpicked and the most pleasurable of servants.”
Ah. “Can’t do that, sorry.”
The woman gave a confused pause. “Well, we do have some male servants if you—”
“Totally not what I meant.”
Adrial laughed. “We’re judges.”
“Heterosexual judges,” I added.
The demon gasped, placing a gloved finger to her lips. “Oh, my apologies. I didn’t recognize you beneath your masks. I hadn’t any intentions of soliciting a code violation.”
“Of course,” Adrial said, winking.
When she sauntered off into the crowd, he glanced at me. “No one is judging your sexuality, Alezair. There’s no distinctive fence between pastures here, if you know what I mean. Celestials are surprisingly open to anything.”
“Good for them, but I’m not.”
“I didn’t realize you were a homophobe.”
“I’m not. If a guy wants to shove his dick into another guy’s ass, that’s dandy. What’s not dandy is people thinking I’m like that.”
He shrugged. “I honestly don’t care what other people think. And to these people I might as well be a fucking eunuch.”
“Wow, I’m speechless.”
“A first.”
I caught sight of Leid and Zhevraine with Belial across the room. He had his arm around our noble, guiding her to a staircase leading to the second level balconies. They were laughing about something. I knew Leid well enough by now to know her laughter was forced. Something was up.
“What’s Leid doing?” I asked, watching her disappear up the stairs.
“Working, of course,” Adrial sighed. “You honestly thought she came here to drink and dance?”
I frowned, guilty as charged.
Another demoness in a black dress sprang at us from out of nowhere. We jumped, and I spilled my drink, cursing. She viciously waved her fan, peering up at Adrial through her mask.
“W-Would you care to have this dance, y-your Honor?” she asked him. “I know this may seem forward of me, but I couldn’t help asking. I’ve always wanted to dance with a judge.”
“Why of course, my dear!” Adrial exclaimed, shoving his drink into my free hand. “I would never think of turning down an offer from such a lovely creature!”
“Code violation,” I muttered.
“Dancing is not a code violation,” he remarked, wagging a finger.
“What does he mean?” his groupie asked, glancing between us.
“Nothing. Please excuse my partner, he gets very upset when I dance with anyone else.”
The demoness giggled as Adrial took her hand and led her to the dance floor. “He’s awfully cute, isn’t he? Are you two open to voyeurism?”
Adrial looked back at me, laughing on mute. I gave him the finger.
“Bad time?” asked a voice to my left.
Samnaea.
She wore a black strapless dress covered in silver sequins; a matching mask hid her eyes, lined with long black feathers. I tried very hard to keep my attention on her face, but quite frankly her cleavage was screaming at me.
“No,” I said quietly, tossing Adrial and his groupie another disdainful look.
She sipped her drink, crossing her arms, shoulder brushing mine. “How are you enjoying the party so far?”
“It’s weird, to be honest.”
She smiled. “Not a fan of demon culture?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…a little unfamiliar.”
“And what’s Vel’Haru culture like, then?”
I laughed. “Finding dark corners to lurk around, or libraries to read in. I haven’t been very social lately.”
Samnaea pouted, ladling me another drink. I was too polite to tell her that I hadn’t planned on getting seconds of that green apple propanol shit. “It sounds like you’re a little past due for some fun.”
I took the drink, cautious. “And what do you have in mind?”
She took my hand, tugging gently. “Come on; let’s go someplace a little quieter.”
Danger, danger.
At my hesitation, she laughed. “What, you honestly want to stick around here with this atrocious music?”
“Yeah, I guess not.”
***
Samnaea and I had found a hidden balcony ledge. We’d wandered through Durn Manor, getting lost for a little while. We’d spent the last hour talking, and in my rapidly decaying sobriety, I’d grown comfortable enough to tell her how I became a member of the Jury. Our masks lay on the marble floor between us; neither of us thought they were very comfortable.
“You have no idea who you really are?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Never will, either.”
“Doesn’t that drive you insane?”
“Not really.”
She laughed; I looked at her.
“What?”
“Nothing; you’re just so nonchalant. Not a care in the world it seems.”
“Leid thinks that’s my biggest flaw. She says I piss on the wall too much.”
“Do you?”
“Oh, no. It’s just a figure of speech.”
“No, I mean do you not care about your job?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I’d care more if I was doing something meaningful. I’m a desk-jockey for the foreseeable future. Hard to give a shit about that.”
Samnaea said nothing at first, glancing out into the evening sky. It had grown much colder as the evening progressed, but the alcohol left me immune to the weather.
“It’s an important job,” she said quietly. “I should know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Without the Jury, there would be war. Chaos, like how it used to be.” There was a twinge of sadness in her voice. I didn’t respond, studying the halcyon of her face, the way her eyes seemed to stare longingly up at the sky. “If not for the Contest, I wouldn’t be alive.”
“Wait, what?”
She looked toward me, surprised.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“The demons were the angels’ slaves before Lucifer set us free. We were their property for centuries, forced to do their bidding—no matter how atrocious and disgusting.”
My stare hardened.
“I’d been placed into the ‘supervised care’ of a wealthy official for twenty years.” Her eyes trailed away, to the floor. She seemed ashamed. “Though my official job title was tending to household chores and preparing meals, I did less of that than servicing him and his son when the rest of his family went to bed.”
I looked away, stung. I really didn’t want to hear this. Not right now.
“It was like that for many of us. Lucifer formed a revolt against Heaven’s Parliament. We orchestrated an uprising. So much violence…so much death. But in the end we won; their former Commander was killed and Yahweh Telei took over. He and Lucifer negotiated our freedom, and they formed the Argent and Obsidian Courts.”
“I’m sorry, I had no idea.”
“Should we lose the Contest—turn in less tallies than Heaven—we’ll be placed back into slavery. Those are the terms.”
I’d always considered the Celestials—angels especially—as rational and morally ambivalent creatures. I couldn’t really see them permitting the kind of slavery that Samnaea described. Was it an exaggeration? Her eyes said otherwise.
Samnaea laughed sadly, shaking her head. “They’re afraid of us. Fear perpetuates irrationality. You have no idea how it motivates malice.”
“You’re right,” I whispered, overwhelmed by the urge to down the rest of my drink.
When I finished, Samnaea was smiling. “But let’s change the subject. I don’t want to ruin the night by dredging up the past.”
“I concur.”
…And then she crawled in my lap.
The alcohol had made my response time really slow. Once I realized what had happened, she was already tonguing my neck. Luckily we were on the other side of the manor, about two floors above everyone else. The chance of being caught was slight.
“What are you doing?” I whispered. Shoving her off would have been easy, but I didn’t.
I couldn’t deny how good Samnaea felt—the warmth of her lips on my skin, the bulge of her breasts against my chest. I gave up, leaning back on the rail, tilting my head to give her better access.
Her hand slid down my chest and to the crotch of my pants, massaging the erection I couldn’t fend off. I exhaled, closing my eyes. Her tongue traced my jaw, and then she whispered in my ear, “Please, can I put it in?”
Damn, she really knew how to work me.
My hands found her thighs, hiking up her dress as she fumbled with my belt, our lips locked. She tasted like candy.
We were just like any of their creations. Execution couldn’t deter lust; we were breaking the Code, and we were loving it.
Point, Hell.
***
The ballroom crowd was a lot drunker than before. Damsels staggered, their partners bellowed with laughter, and now Zhevraine and Adrial danced together across the room, executing a flawless tango. The music was still insufferable.
As Samnaea and I ventured through the door, Belial Vakkar watched us from a corner of the frame. He leaned on the wall, malay cigarette ablaze, his cane spinning slowly in his hand. Something in his eyes relayed that he knew we’d been up to no good.
“Evening,” he said, and we stopped. His gaze settled on Samnaea, turning to daggers. “Lady Soran, a pleasure. I must have you to thank for inviting the Jury.” He didn’t seem pleased.
“Belial, it’s a lovely party,” she said. They stared at one another, and there was ice where their eyes met.
The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy Page 10
