The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy

by Terra Whiteman

  I

  NEEDLES AND PINS

  Lucifer Raith—;

  I HURRIED FROM THE MORNING EATERY—briefcase in one hand, hot tea in the other—as Simeon pulled my craft to the entrance. Inside, I set my briefcase on the adjacent seat and opened the news journal that had been set in the basket beneath the sill.

  “Looks like it’s going to rain,” said Simeon, and I caught the traces of a grin from the rearview mirror.

  “Yes,” I said, playing along. “But you know how unpredictable the weather can be.”

  “True enough. Really looks like rain this time, though.”

  But it never rained in Akkaroz. The city was enclosed in a biodome, perpetuating a synthetic gray sky and temperate climate, yet beyond the walls were lethal cold and a darkness truly indescribable. No light reached the deepest layer of Hell.

  But, as always, we’d made it work.

  “I’m surprised to see you today, Sim. Isn’t your daughter graduating in Junah?”

  “She is, sir, but that’s later this evening.”

  “Ah. Well, good; I have a present for her in my office.”

  Simeon chuckled. “You don’t have to do that, sir. Your donation for her tuition was more than enough.”

  I shook the journal at him. “But that’s where you’re wrong, Sim. That wasn’t a donation, it was an investment. Hell always needs more doctors.”

  The skin around his eyes crinkled in the wake of a smile, gratitude behind his gaze. Simeon had been my driver for seventy years, and I took good care of my employees. They weren’t only providing me a service, but weaving threads into the blanket of society—the blanket being infrastructure, duty, unity. After all, morale was obsolete if your subjects hated you.

  Finding nothing paramount in the paper other than the usual economic disarray, I reclined in my seat and watched the scenery pass by the window—high-rises bridged by buttresses, two-tier city markets, the ever-prevalent blur of morning aeroway traffic. Here, things were steady. But only here.

  Hell’s governing house looked like a gothic castle, elevated from the ground by anti-gravity plates spanning two miles in diameter. I spent ten hours a day in a tiny glass box, pushing paper and enduring hours-long meetings with other ruling members of the Obsidian Court. I’d been in office for more years than I had not, whether be it for Heaven or Hell, and had long forgotten what it felt like to do anything else.

  Lunch came far too quickly. I’d had yet to review Naberius’ budget proposal for Lochai, which needed to be done by the end of the day. His layer was sinking, and I was dreading that meeting with him tomorrow.

  My office Aeon chimed right as I was about to leave, and I stared at it, tilting my head. No one ever called now. Everyone knew my schedule.

  I answered the call, but before I could even speak, someone said:

  I’m so sorry to call you here. You know I wouldn’t call you here if it wasn’t an emergency.

  I hesitated, surprised. I’d thought it was my secretary, but the voice belonged to Lilim, Samnaea’s handmaiden. We’d been close once. Or twice.

  Our brief affair had had a few perks, one being a constant flux of information from Junah’s head estate.

  It’s alright. What’s the matter?

  It’s happened again.

  I sighed. How long?

  Two days, sir. She won’t let anyone in her room. The Aeon is ringing off the hook and I don’t know what to say. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it yet.

  So much for lunch.

  I’m on my way. Don’t tell her.

  I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.

  Four days ago my second general, Caym Stroth, left Akkaroz without a trace. No one had heard from him since. After a thousand inquiries across Hell, it was safe to say he’d left The Atrium altogether. Though a code violation in itself, I had an idea that Samnaea knew where he was—or, judging by what Lilim just told me, what had happened to him.

  The Jury had confiscated that list of Sanguine Court members before I was able to see it, but recent activities led me to believe that both of them were at the top. And that was a hard truth to swallow, especially after Samael. However Yahweh had requested to meet, claiming he could shed some light on all of this, so for the meantime I’d put my assumptions on ice.

  I locked my office and informed my staff that I was going to lunch. Simeon drove me to Akkaroz’s cephalon, swearing to tell no one, and I slipped inside undetected and took the portal to Junah.

  Hopefully Lilum thought to call a driver.

  ***

  The Soran estate floated on an island above Junah, with two arching spires that always reminded me of robotic arms. Chains the length of city blocks and width of pillars hung from them, their use still lost on me after all these years.

  Samnaea was expressive, among other things. I was afraid to ask about the chains, since she’d probably delve into a lecture about the symbolism of the Ring War. Of everyone, she carried the most scars, and not all of them skin deep.

  The digital clock tower at the center of the city told me that I only had thirty-five minutes left to convince Samnaea to return to work. The numbers flashed as the hour turned, leaving a hazy, blue glow across the sky, like moonlight.

  Junah was the sixth layer of Hell—cold and dark, but not cold and dark enough to warrant a biodome. The scenery was perpetual night, little vegetation, with buildings etched from tundra plateaus and jagged gorge-side cliffs. Most of the citizens wore luminance-enhanced spectacles, the lenses like high-definition cameras that made it impossible to see the wearer’s eyes. We called them dark glasses. People got creative with them, crafting embroidered frames or eccentric shapes. Dark glasses were the one thing that never went out of style around here.

  It turned out Lilum had thought to call a driver, and he’d handed me a pair of dark glasses on the way to his craft. I took them off when I reached the estate, as warm light bled through the crack in the front door when Lilum came to greet me. She bowed, almost dramatically. I watched her silky, rust-colored hair slide over her shoulders. With eyes the color of molten steel and skin the smoothest ivory, it was hard to resist pursuit. But I wasn’t here for that. Twenty-five minutes was not enough time, anyway.

  “Sir, thank you so much for coming.”

  “Thank you for telling me, Lili.”

  Lilum looked up at me, and I could tell that she hoped I would pursue her as well. She was going to be disappointed. “Right this way.”

  The estate was lavish with abstract paintings and glass furniture. I didn’t particularly think glass furniture was a safe form of décor—given its owner—but I kept my opinions to myself.

  She led me up the winding staircase and down the black-carpeted, second floor hallway. Samnaea’s bedroom lay at the end of the hall. It was locked, just as Lilum had said.

  I pressed my ear to it, waving the servant away with a nod in thanks. Alone, I knocked softly.

  “Samnaea?”

  Silence.

  “Samnaea, I just want to talk to you. Can you please open the door?”

  I heard the soft tapping of footsteps. I pressed my ear to the door again, feeling a slight resistance this time. She had her hands against it.

  “Go away.”

  Her voice was coarse, dry, weak.

  “Can I remind you of the offense for telling the Commander of Hell—your boss—to go away?”

  “I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

  “That’s a lie. Open the door.”

  Her footsteps padded away. I sighed.

  “Samnaea, if you don’t open the door, then I’m going to break it down.”

  “I’ll explode your head.”

  “No, you won’t. I’m going to count from five.”

  Silence, again.

  “Five, four, three—”

  The lock unlatched with a click. I pushed the door open, finding Samnaea in the center of the room. Her back was turned as she wiped her tears away. Boxes of documents were strewn across her
bed, loose sheets littered the floor.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Digging. Research.”

  “Research for what?”

  Instead of replying, she sank to the bed and held her face. My eyes trailed over the fresh scabs on her arms. She was a masochist, but that was no secret. She’d explained once that her pain was so deep, the only way to release it was to cut it from her body. Both Caym and Samael had tried to convince me to stop her on numerous occasions, but who was I to stop her? She wasn’t causing fatal harm to herself, only little incisions no deeper than her skin, and if it made her feel better—saner—why stand in the way?

  There were more cuts than usual, though, and that caused a twinge of sadness in my chest. Samnaea was renowned for her beauty. Undisputed, she was the most beautiful demoness in all of Hell, and the sight of those cuts even hurt me a little.

  We went back a long way, she and I; never intimate, but always close.

  And although right now she was certainly unfit for office, these episodes were seldom. Most days she was charismatic and charitable, pouring her talents of economics and diplomacy into her job. And it showed. Despite her layer being the weakest in terms of resources, she had transformed a frozen, desolate rock into a flourishing city of technology and academia. Junah found its success within the medical and scientific spectrum. Samnaea Soran was too important to lose.

  “I’ve done terrible things, Lucifer,” she whispered. “Terrible, terrible things. Saying them out loud will make you hate me.” Fresh tears streamed down her face, and she hung her head to hide them.

  Here it was; her confession. I closed the door behind me and sat next to her on the bed. Although I didn’t respond, my look was enough to make Samnaea feel safe. Yet as calm as I seemed, my pulse was throbbing in my ears as I braced myself for her betrayal.

  ***

  As Samnaea sobbed on the floor, I placed my hand on her shoulder, feeling the chill of her skin.

  I tried to hide my anger, but knew she could see it. She was crying out of loss, guilt, and the fact that she’d practically crushed my heart with only a few long-winded sentences.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” I whispered, getting up to leave.

  She said nothing, only sobbed harder.

  I closed the door behind me and made my way down the stairs. Lilum found me in the foyer.

  “Did it work?” she whispered, casting a worried glance at the second floor.

  “Lady Soran will be returning to work tomorrow, but I’m giving her one more day to collect herself. Please see to it that she has everything she needs until then.”

  Lilum bowed again. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  The overuse of sir always made me cringe.

  “No,” I said, opening the door. “Thank you.”

  On the return flight to Junah’s cephalon, I thought about my next move. The dark, ominous scenery served a fitting ambiance.

  Political machinations were never my thing. Unfortunately the Sanguine Court had to be eliminated, and now I had the proper fuel for that fire.

  II

  REPERCUSSIONS

  Lucifer Raith—;

  “DO YOU remember Day Zero?”

  I hesitated, studying Samnaea as she sat cross-legged on the floor of my study, cradling a cup of hot cider. She awaited my response, eyes large and bright like liquid gold.

  “Of course I do.”

  She smiled sadly, staring into her steaming beverage. “Thousands of us stumbling through the ruins of Sanctum, scared and excited, sifting through our losses and gains.”

  Day Zero was the first day that the demons had migrated to Hell. Back then our home was nothing more than seven layers of tundra and endless fields of ice, so we’d had no choice but to seek shelter in Sanctum, then centuries lost. The angels had shuttled us down here in transporter crafts, prodding us out like cattle, leaving us shivering in darkness.

  I didn’t know how to respond. The mentioning of Sanctum left a bitter taste in my mouth, which then left me vulnerable to thoughts of Justice Alezair Czynri.

  Qaira Eltruan.

  How Leid had found him was a mystery; we had all thought that he was dead. I wasn’t yet afforded any time to pull Leid aside and ask just what the hell she was doing, as his appearance had coincided with our political disarray. But I planned to. Soon.

  For now I had to believe that he wasn’t a threat, as his memories were still in safe-keeping at the Nexus.

  “And now here we are,” Samnaea went on, shattering my thoughts. “Millions strong, yet still we wear these invisible shackles. Why?”

  “There aren’t any shackles.”

  “But there are. I wear a dozen of them as we speak. Shackles of poverty, shackles of rapidly decreasing resources, shackles of imminent starvation, shackles of our pointless Contest… Do you know what I would give to see Heaven’s sun again?”

  “Let’s stop traipsing down Irrelevancy Lane. Tell me about the next Sanguine Court meeting.”

  “It’s tonight,” she said, lowering her gaze. “I was supposed to attend.”

  “What time?”

  Samnaea glanced at the clock. “An hour from now.”

  “Where?”

  “Avernai.”

  I bristled. “Does Malphas know?”

  She shook her head. “His underlings do, though. The meeting is being held at the governing house after hours. A secretary will be there to unlock the door.”

  The Sanguine Court was a syndicate of cleverly-placed seeds throughout Hell’s legislature, preying on the poverty-stricken to illicit tallies through code violations. Although Samnaea had informed me that neither her brother nor partner were part of it, she was, along with a handful of other Archdemons whom she’d refused to name.

  But that was fine. I’d find them out soon enough.

  I grabbed my coat from the hangar, while Samnaea blinked at me.

  “Well then, we better get moving,” I said.

  “Wait.” She tilted her head. “What?”

  I grinned. “Tonight I’ll be your surprise guest of honor.”

  “No, you can’t,” she gasped, moving to stop me. “If they find out I’ve snitched, then—”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. Not after tonight.”

  Her fright switched to confusion. “… What are you planning to do?”

  “I plan to remind everyone of who’s in charge around here, and I need your help.”

  Samnaea hushed, looking conflicted.

  “Since when are you afraid of anyone?” I said, near whisper. “You think a little thought and all of your enemies march themselves off cliffs.”

  “I’m not afraid of them. I’m afraid of you.”

  “Me?”

  “I want your word that there won’t be any repercussions.”

  I smirked, heading for the foyer. “You’ll have more than my word, believe me. Come, or else we’ll be late.”

  ***

  I didn’t call a driver when we reached Avernai. Samnaea’s confession had left me paranoid, with good reason. Word of my being here might get out if security was tainted, and I had no doubt that it was.

  Instead we walked ten blocks from the cephalon to Avernai parliament, taking back roads and alleys through the city. The streets were clear, as Avernai enforced a curfew due to high crime and murder rates.

  The first layer of Hell suffered worst of all, decorated in eroded buildings well past due for repairs, abandoned houses, piles of garbage and hordes of homeless.

  Malphas Tremm, Avernai’s Archdemon, was left floundering as his citizens migrated to other layers, taking jobs and taxes with them. Despite our best efforts to replenish Avernai’s capital, the only people left were those financially incapable of migration fees, members of drug and prostitution crime rings, and the feeble minded unable to care for themselves, left to rot on the streets.

  Being here and seeing it all was another bag entirely. Hell was collapsing, layer by layer, the effect like domino
s. Although right now I was grateful for the abandoned streets, I was also well aware that our lives would be in danger should we run into the wrong type of people, regardless of our titles.

  Something had to be done, but I could only pluck one thorn at a time.

  “I should have worn a different coat,” whispered Samnaea, her heels clicking loudly as she walked. “I’m sure every dredge here thinks my pockets are stuffed full with money.”

  “We’re almost there.”

  “We’re still three blocks away.”

  “A much shorter distance than ten.”

  She clicked her tongue, pulling the hood of her scarlet petticoat over her head in effort to conceal her face.

  “So what were those boxes in your bedroom?” I asked.

  “Research, like I said.”

  “For the Sanguine Court?”

  “No, for me.”

  “Care to share?”

  “Belial Vakkar.”

  When she said nothing else, I looked down at her with a curious tilt of my head. There had always been bad blood between them, but she’d never gone this far. “What about him?”

  “I acquired copies of Tehlor’s transactions for the past three fiscal periods. The taxes that Belial is paying to the Obsidian Court don’t match the taxes he’s receiving. He’s embezzling money.”

  “And how did you get your hands on Tehlor’s financial records?”

  She smiled coyly through the shadows of her hood. “I have my ways.”

  “Mm.”

  “I’ve also found receipts of transactions from the Celestial Court.”

  That almost made me halt. “Say again?”

  “Belial is taking payments from the Jury. He’s an informant.”

  I exhaled, not wanting to think about that right now. Samnaea didn’t take the hint.

  “He’s been keeping the Jury in the loop. I understand not all of our activities have been… clean, but the fact that he’s bribable shows his level of fealty to our Court.”