“Right before your whites attacked Avernai, I read an interesting article titled Transposon gene therapy for Pleuroferrosis patients, written by you.”
He said nothing, staring.
“I couldn’t hack the Plexus archives at the Celestial Court. They were only accessible through a parliament server.”
Yahweh’s gaze trailed downward.
I leaned forward, snarling. “You used my blood to cure your sick? You mixed my genes with angel DNA?”
“Yes.” His response was coarse, denying nothing. “That was the only way to save them.”
I grinned. “Save them? You turned them into demons and then Heaven cast them out. Now you’re slaughtering them while they starve to death. You should have let them all die.”
“You’re right, but I’m not an oracle,” he said, deadpan. “I had no idea what would happen, nor what my father would do.”
“Which father? The one you mutated or the one you killed?”
My little jabs were starting to get under his skin, and it showed. Yahweh’s jaw clenched and his eyes were reduced to tiny slits as he struggled to stay composed. “You know nothing.”
“I know a lot more than you think. The blood I donated for your transfusion was kept and experimented on. Was that the information you were trying to hide on your Plexus database?”
It took a moment for him to recall what I was talking about. “We couldn’t ignore the attributes of your genome, Qaira. You were a medical anomaly. A miracle. Have you ever wondered why you were born the way you are? I know you have. Do you want me to tell you why?”
I took the bait, waiting.
“Fifty percent of your genome consists of transposons. You should have been still-born, but you weren’t. Although you looked the same as your ilk, you were fifty percent foreign, enough to claim species-divergence.”
“You’re saying I wasn’t Nehel?”
“I’m saying you were a miracle. Your blood had the power to heal. Gene therapy erased all inflictions of Pleuroferrosis. What I didn’t expect was mutation. Your transposons molded with angel DNA, changed it, and turned it into something else.”
“They all look like me.”
“Because you’re Patient Zero. You donated fifty percent of your traits to them. They’re half angel, half Nehel.”
“Still Nehel enough to segregate them. Enslave them.”
“I did not want this war. Lucifer declared war on me. I’ve been trying for hundreds of years to mend the damage of the Ring War.”
“Why was it called the Ring War?”
Yahweh pointed to his eye. “That was the first symptom of mutation. Red rings around their eyes, like Nehel. The public grew scared and shut the clinical trials down after that, but the damage was already done.”
I said nothing, looking away, overwhelmed by the impulse to reach across the table and snap his neck. What he’d done was too disgusting, too horrific, to forgive.
My expression gave away my thoughts, and he repeated, “I was trying to save them.”
“Fuck you,” I said through my teeth. “You weren’t trying to save them, you fucking snake. All you’ve ever been interested in is glory. Well, genius, how did you like the reward that came with your miracle cure?”
Yahweh sat there, tight-lipped. The silence continued for eons.
“Fight for me,” he said.
I laughed.
“Lucifer is fighting this war so the demons can take over The Atrium. I am fighting this war so we can finally make peace.”
“Peace through war? Could have sworn you were against that philosophy.”
“The war will end when the Obsidian Court lays down their arms and agrees to negotiate. That can only happen if Lucifer is impeached and a new Commander takes his seat. We plan to relinquish all borders and unify The Atrium and its resources to both domains thereafter.”
I frowned, incredulous. “And what demon would defy Lucifer Raith and claim his seat?”
Yahweh only smiled. “I am trying to make amends. Our victory will serve as my apology to you.”
I’d forgotten how persuasive Yahweh could be. I stayed silent, staring at the table.
“Fight for me,” he pressed. “We can save this world together.”
“I don’t fight for anyone,” I said. “I’m not the clueless twat that left here.”
He nodded, sighing. “I won’t force you. I can’t, really. My offer remains on the table should you ever change your mind. You’re free to go.”
With that he stood, heading for the door. Yahweh vacated the room without farewell or even a glance over his shoulder. He’d left the door ajar, reinforcing the fact that I really was free to go.
… Free to go where?
***
I stood on deck, waiting for a transport craft to take me back into the city. From there I would return to Moritoria, grab my things, and get as far away from The Atrium as I could.
At least, that was my plan. It seemed someone else had another.
I ignored the sidelong glances from passing angel soldiers. I was unmasked and still dressed in Avernai Elite armor, without ion-cuffs. On my way out of headquarters, Seyestin and Cereli stared at me from afar, their faces decorated in restrained fear. Obviously someone had filled them in. None of their soldiers seemed to know. Yet, anyway.
Would anyone believe it? I was like a mythological character; ancient history. Sanctum’s fall felt like yesterday, but really it had happened almost a thousand years ago. My identity was dust, like the world as I’d known it.
Adrial appeared out of nowhere, standing at the gate. I pretended not to see him.
“Leaving so soon?” he asked.
I didn’t respond.
“Qaira Eltruan,” he said, trying the name on his tongue. “I was told you were an evil, child-eating tyrant. You’re like the boogeyman around here.”
Now he was just trying to get a rise out of me.
“But you don’t look or seem much different. Albeit, Alezair wouldn’t have been able to sneak into Avernai’s Parliament and hack their database.”
“I didn’t hack anything. Their security is a joke.”
Adrial smiled, victorious. I glanced at him, and then at his attire. He was wearing the Celestial Court uniform, its Jury insignia shining red under the deck lamps. Once upon a time I’d worn the same thing, back when my mind was as blank and drab as its design.
He was taken aback by my eyes, gazing into them with startled curiosity. It must have been strange seeing me as a ‘demon’. “So, where will you go?”
I didn’t have an answer, so, again, I didn’t respond.
“Alezair was never much for planning, either,” he noted.
My lip curled as I shot him a look. “What do you want?”
“Whatever you were, you aren’t anymore.”
“Don’t pretend to know me.”
“I do know you. You might think this revelation has shaken you to your core, changed you forever, but it hasn’t.”
“Not even two minutes in and you’re already psychoanalyzing me.”
“You’re a violet guardian. Your place is here, with us.”
“Calenus seems to think my place is with him.”
Adrial frowned. “And that might be true, in due time.”
And then it struck me. With everything going on, I’d completely forgotten that Leid was expiring. Suddenly my heart felt heavy, and the look on my face revealed that I’d caught his drift.
“You should go and see her,” he said. “That’s why you’re here, after all.”
“Wrong.”
“Am I? What was stopping you from cleaving your way through Cereli’s guards and making a break for it?”
“Zhevraine.”
“… Fair enough, but you know as well as I do that she wouldn’t have killed you had you fought. You seem pretty docile, even now.”
I stayed quiet. He didn’t know what had happened between us. Not really. I couldn’t expect Adrial to understand why the t
hought of facing Leid made my blood boil. This was no one’s business but mine.
The transporter glided through the clouds, docking at the port. My ride was here.
Adrial stepped back as the gate opened and soldiers bled through the doors. More looks. “She only has a few months left,” he said. “Don’t do something else that you’ll regret.”
All I paid him was a cold stare, and he left for headquarters. The transporter was vacant. The pilot waited for me to board with an impatient glare.
One, two, three.
Three seconds—that was all the time it took for me to step away from the gate and head back along the deck. The pilot set off again, disappearing toward the city.
Adrial was right.
Leid was dying, and I had a few things to say to her before she went.
XIII
DISCLOSURE
Yahweh Telei—;
I WAS FORCED TO FILL MY GENERALS IN in on the situation.
Zhevraine had already told them a bit of it, having provided some cushioning for the fall. Seyestin and Cereli stood cool and aloof as I relayed everything—from Namah’s contract with the Nexus to Qaira’s memory-less alter-ego, Alezair Czynri, claiming membership in the Jury—until I revealed my plan of enlisting his military expertise to aid us in our war.
Seyestin was the first to crack. “Qaira Eltruan destroyed his own city. He was a genocidal psychopath. You want him on our side?” I opened my mouth, but he wasn’t finished. “He tried to kill you. Years before that he starved and slaughtered our kind until we forced him into an alliance.”
“Past is passed, General Trede. He has no power here. He’s not in control of anything anymore, and you’d be surprised to see how the Mighty might act after they’ve fallen.”
“We don’t need him,” he pressed. “We have Leid and the others. Today was an affirmation that we have a chance.”
I turned my back, looking out the navigation room window. The dock was vacant. Moments before I had watched Qaira and Adrial exchange words. Apparently Justice Trisyien convinced Qaira to stay, as he had left the dock without boarding the transporter. “Chance is an arbitrary thing. Today was a fluke. Lucifer was not ready for our attack, but now he will be. Our next battle will involve an army well outnumbering our own. Today was… a warm up exercise, nothing more.”
“Qaira publically hated the angels,” said Cereli, as her brother had given up his fight. “What makes you think he’d even consider fighting for us?”
Qaira was so misunderstood. None of them knew him like I did—none of them had seen what the death of his sister had done. He hadn’t hated the angels, not until post-trauma ascended to extreme paranoia. “You two forget that a rogue band of angels snuck into his city and murdered his sister.”
Cereli shook her head. “I haven’t forgotten, but that only solidifies my doubt that he’d even consider siding with us.”
I knew he would, just like I knew him. Leid held all the cards; if she willed it to happen, then it would. She and Qaira just had to mend their issues (to put it lightly) without killing each other and/or destroying Ezekiel.
… On that note, perhaps I should have been more worried.
Cereli left the room, having nothing more to say, evidently upset. Her brother lingered, glaring at the back of my head. I could feel his eyes burning a hole through my skull.
“You lied to us,” he said, near-snarl. “For a hundred years that monster was here, among us, and you said nothing.”
“He didn’t know who he was, Seyestin.”
“But you did. You, Leid and Lucifer.”
“We were trying to keep his identity secret. Had we told anyone, word might have spread, and Qaira would have found out who he was prematurely. Telling anyone would have placed his life in danger. I’m certain more than a few angels and demons would have felt they owed him some due justice. And let’s not even discuss the political chaos that would have caused.”
“As your general, I am forced to abide by your decision. But you are making a mistake, Yahweh.” He dropped formalities, hoping to needle his point. “Qaira is a derelict—at the very least a wild card. If you think for a minute that you can command him, control him, then you’re more naïve than I thought.”
I spun, startled by the insult, but he was already out the door.
Seyestin was wrong. They were wrong.
None of them knew Qaira, or me for that matter.
My gaze settled on the chessboard resting atop the digital map control panel. My thoughts then drifted to all the games Lucifer and I had ever played. He had always given me first move. He had also given me first strike: Avernai.
This war was a chess match, true and true.
Seyestin and Cereli were my bishops, Leid my queen. I had pawns aplenty, rooks, but there was still a piece missing; a piece that every player always seemed to underestimate, whose moves were often overlooked until it was too late.
I needed a knight.
Qaira would be my knight.
XIV
HARROWING
Leid Koseling—;
I’D FELT HIM COMING.
Thump, thump, thump, said my heart, as I stared at the door with a scythe unleashed.
I had fled the command station when Yahweh ordered Zhevraine and Cereli to bring Qaira onboard. Since then I’d waited in my assigned living quarters, praying he would leave.
In Moritoria I had thought about seeing him again, anticipated it, but now that our reunion was seconds away I realized that everything would explode from our closet. Everything. Every skeleton, every sin, every vile thing we had ever done…
Scars would revert to festering wounds, and those scars had taken forever to heal.
Qaira was angry; I could already taste him. Being a noble was a horrible thing.
I’d always had a talent with words, and was often prided on my ability to talk my way out of almost any situation. But not this time. This time things could only be settled with scythes.
The lock on my door was engaged, but it wouldn’t hold against Vel’Haru strength. If Qaira wanted in, he would get in.
The residential sector was isolated—no one was in their rooms at a time like this. Except me.
Down the hall, the elevator doors slid open. Footsteps.
Tap, tap, tap.
I held my breath.
The footsteps stopped in front of my door. Seconds passed.
Nothing.
The door handle shifted.
Nothing, again.
I waited with baited breath, but there was only silence. Qaira knew that I was in here, watching. He needn’t make his presence known.
But his lack of calamity was confusing. I was certain he’d kick the door down, but all he seemed to do was stand there, docile.
“Open it.”
Even his voice had changed. Deeper, confident. At the sound, something stirred in my chest. Conflicted, I looked at the lock, but didn’t move.
“Are you really that frightened of me?” I imagined the question accompanied by that wicked smile of his.
No, I wasn’t frightened of him. I was frightened of killing him. I didn’t know what Qaira intended to do when I opened the door, and the thought of putting him down nearly broke me in two. But there was no escaping the situation. Not anymore. Better that I handled it without cowardice.
Steeling myself, I hit the lock disengage button beside the door. It deactivated with a beep. A second later, Qaira turned the handle.
He was dressed in black armor, demon armor, the kind found at Avernai Parliament. His eyes held mine, their red rings made his silver irises ten times brighter. They shined like ingots— molten, chaotic. Alezair had never worn such an expression; the kind that cut you deep, made you shiver. Innocence was lost, replaced by horrible memories and a sordid soul.
And he was beautiful.
It was true; I loved a monster.
His stare trailed toward my scythe, and then he smiled. “That for me?”
I said nothing
, unable to generate any words. I’d rehearsed this a hundred times, but one look at him and my breath was sucked right out of my lungs. My mouth felt like a desert.
Qaira didn’t enter my room, remaining in the doorway. When I didn’t respond, he looked at me again, eyes wandering across my face. He’d noticed my infirmity.
I looked like death, that much was certain. A few hours ago I was vomiting blood in the sanitizer. A migraine throttled my temples, like little fingers pushing against my skull. I watched the hard edges of his gaze soften, hating him for it. His pity made me feel even more vulnerable.
I turned away, unable to take it.
My scythe slid back into my wrist and my hand began to heal.
Qaira said nothing else. I felt his eyes linger on my back.
“What do you want?” I muttered, his silence even worse than his pity.
“I had quite a few things to say to you,” he began. “Many, many things, but… I don’t know anymore. I see now that there’s no sense in saying them.”
I looked over my shoulder. His smile was gone.
“You know what you did, and I know what I did.” He looked around the room, then at the sanitizer in the corner, still stained with blood. “Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
Anger stirred from deep within. “Don’t you talk to me about karma.”
Qaira smirked. “Playing puppeteer for the angels now, huh? You seem to get around. Someone should warn Yahweh that anyone who hangs with you tends to wind up dead, or worse.”
I smiled at his venom. “Says The Atrium’s most notorious mass-murderer. You can’t discredit me, Qaira. You’re as filthy as they come.”
“At least I’m not a fractious bitch.”
“Name calling. Quaint.”
“How’s Oraniquitis?” he asked, tapping his forehead. “Can she hear us?”
My blood ran cold.
He noticed the immediate change in my demeanor. “Have you told anyone?”
“Have you?”
Qaira shook his head.
That surprised me. “Why not?”
He looked at the ground, silent.
The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy Page 72
