The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy

by Terra Whiteman

“You weren’t much taller then.”

  “Truth, but I could toss him clear over the schoolyard fence.” Neither of us smiled at her mirth, and she lowered her gaze. “How time bleeds us dry.”

  “Truth,” I said, holding up my glass in salute. Ava and I had known each other a long, long time. One careless, drunken night had ruined everything. Promiscuity was something I was known for—most demons were—but she had been playing for keeps, a fact completely lost on me back then.

  “I would like to be shown to my quarters,” she said, heading back to the bed to fetch her case. “When do we depart?”

  “Dawn,” I said. “I’ll call a guard to show you to your room.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself,” she said, slipping on her helmet, the husk in her voice returning. “I’ll wave one down. Thanks for the pointless chat.”

  Praetor Avarice Delvori released the lock and slid out before I could respond, leaving me to glare at the door instead. Not exactly how I thought our reunion would play out, but at least she hadn’t castrated me with that ion blade.

  Still, I didn’t need something else to feel guilty about. Getting through to her wouldn’t be easy, either. Ava had been an autist ever since her parents’ death; and, knowing this, I should have been gentler with her.

  I was downing the last of my wine as my portable Aeon chimed. Samnaea was calling me back to the bridge; Caelis was finished with the AI and wanted to give us a tutorial. Dr. Jonarr would be our acting Chief Engineer, but it never hurt to learn in case he was incapacitated—dead, simply put.

  The attendants had left my mantle hanging near the door. My gaze lingered on it, until I forced myself off the couch and slipped it over my shoulders. There was an armored case of my own stowed beneath the bed. It didn’t hold as many weapons as Ava’s but there were two pulse hand-helds and a smaller, thinner ion blade that I strapped to my back.

  It was three hundred years since I had used any of these, and they’d been upgraded since. But I was no newcomer to weapons, though hopefully I wouldn’t have to use them. A Commander forced to fight meant the enemy had breached his ship and got past the Primers. At that point, he’d already lost.

  I hit the lights and locked the room behind me, heading to the bridge. The crowd of media and civilians still packed the port entrance, having amassed even larger since my arrival. Such an encouraging sight would vanish soon, replaced by ominous terrain and enemy soldiers, bullets and bodies. Yahweh was right; I didn’t want this war any more than him. But I couldn’t watch my people self-destruct, starving and desperate. Placed in my shoes, he’d have done the same.

  For all the skills my son had claimed over the years that I’d raised him, empathy was something he lacked. Yahweh often mistook his self-righteousness as empathy—he had a strong grasp of what was considered intrinsically good and bad, passionately so, but was unable to see through blurred lines.

  And that would be his downfall.

  XVIII

  POLITICS, POLITICS

  Belial Vakkar—;

  EZEKIEL’S PRISONER SECTOR WAS A GIANT SLAB OF cement and iron in the bowels of the ship. The air was cold and dry, lights dim and flickering—probably a scare-tactic—and the cells were empty. All except one.

  The sector’s newest tenant sat with his back against the wall, legs propped on the adjacent bench. His gaze lay ahead, tired and defeated, but that all changed the moment he spotted me.

  A little black stool was conveniently placed outside Malphas’ cell. I adjusted it and plopped down, paying him a crooked smile.

  “Morning.”

  Archdemon Tremm laughed, but all the humor was canceled by the fury in his eyes. “Really?”

  “You hurt me, Malph, you really hurt me. I came all the way here to see you and that’s all you have to say?”

  He soured at the nickname. “Sending you down here to soften me up.” He shook his head, clicking his teeth. “The whites are even stupider than you.”

  “Now, now,” I tsked, slipping a malay cigarette between my lips, “let’s keep this chat above elementary-school level. I know that’ll be hard for you, but exercising the mind keeps you healthy. That’s what my mother used to say.”

  Malphas glared at me. “Belial, what do you want?”

  “Nothing, really. I just came to point and laugh at you, all locked up in the angels’ basement.”

  I had always been the black sheep of the Obsidian Court, no pun intended, and needless to say Malphas had never liked me. It was very satisfying to see him in such disarray. His ruby-red hair, usually neatly pulled back, hung loose and tangled. His black suit was torn at the shoulders and his tie was nothing but a raggedy piece of fabric dangling off his neck. He was young. Too young to have been nominated as Archdemon of Avernai. In a hundred years he’d turned that layer into a toilet.

  “I’d rather be a prisoner than a traitor. I might be chained in the angels’ basement, but at least I’m not on their leash.”

  I feigned hurt. “So loyal, even after Lucifer dangled you as bait.” Malphas’ expression hardened. “He hasn’t called yet, by the way. Looks like he doesn’t care if you’re executed. Want to know why?” I leaned in real close, as if imparting a world-shattering secret. “He knew the angels were coming, Malph. He knew, and he also knew your layer couldn’t protect itself.”

  I wasn’t even lying. Avernai was expendable—a drain on Hell, even more so than Tehlor. I’d have done the same thing. “But thanks to you I’m sure Lucifer now has a good idea of what to expect. Wasn’t all for nothing. Thank you for your sacrifice.”

  “The angels won’t make it past Lochai,” snarled Malphas, feral as ever.

  “I’ve got four god killers who say otherwise.”

  “Your god killers will have a tough time with our Primers.”

  Ah, the Primers. “A bunch of demon freakshows in armor can’t contend with the Jury, Malph. Sorry to say.”

  Malphas smiled serenely, giving me inclination for a follow up. But I wouldn’t pry just yet—not until he knew what I was.

  His eyes trailed to the cigarette lodged in the corner of my mouth, still unlit. That seemed to confuse him.

  “Do you know how I escaped arrest?” I asked, resting my cane against the wall.

  Malphas didn’t respond, but the look on his face said it all.

  I snapped my fingers and a small burst of flames appeared with the noise. The fire licked my flesh without singe, and I used it to light my cigarette.

  “You’re immune.”

  It was my turn to smile.

  “Concealing psionicity is high treason,” he said.

  I blew smoke. “That ship has sailed. I don’t care much anyway. The angels have given me an offer I can’t refuse.”

  “When the demons win, you’ll sway on a noose until your bones turn to dust.”

  In a blink, I grabbed his arm and yanked it through the bars. My strength alone knocked him off the bench and his face slammed against cold iron. My fingers curled around his wrist, gripping it hard enough to cut his circulation, and then I put my cigarette out on the top of his hand.

  He screamed, trying to wrench away, but I was too strong. I was a psion, he a nothing. Had the Obsidian Court known this, Lucifer would have sent Primers to arrest me, not Samnaea.

  “I’ve worn many faces, Malph. Too many to count. Let me warn you now that I am not a man to cross. Unfortunately those who have crossed me can’t attest to that, because, well, they’re dead.”

  My face was stone. Even though the cigarette was still smoldering on Malphas’ hand, he’d stopped moving and stared up at me, listless as a statue.

  “Tell me everything you know about Lucifer’s army. The Primers, their positions, and all that other top-secret stuff you keep smirking about. Your cooperation isn’t necessary, but much appreciated.”

  ***

  Half an hour later I emerged from the prisoner sector, nodding at the two angel guards standing sentry in the hall. Behind them, Cereli Trede leaned on the wall wi
th her arms crossed. As the door closed, she heard Malphas’ moans echo from inside. Her eyes trailed to the blood on my hands.

  “He might need a doctor,” I said, wiping myself with a handkerchief. “Unless you intend to hang him.”

  “The Commander wants him alive. How badly is he hurt?”

  “Not too badly, but he’s always been a frail thing.”

  She straightened, standing nearly as tall as me. Cereli was a giant; she and her brother both. “Was the information worth it?”

  I shrugged, and she guided me to headquarters. Even though I was considered an ally, I didn’t go anywhere unsupervised, aside from the deck. They played it casual, but I knew better. I always knew better. “That’s for your Commander to decide.”

  My Aeon chimed and I pulled it from my pocket, grinning at the message. As always, my contact was right on time.

  XIX

  GODS TO MONSTERS

  Qaira Eltruan—;

  BELIAL LEFT THE COMMAND STATION AS I WAS going in. He paid me a nod and grin before setting off down the hall without looking back.

  I lingered in the doorway, watching as he disappeared out of headquarters. The Archdemon’s cane made a steady tap tap tap that I could hear even when he faded from view. I always thought the cane was purely for show—a prop to match his costume—but he used it even now. His gait wasn’t a hobble, at least not with the cane, but instead there was a slight hitch in his right leg that I hadn’t noticed before.

  Yahweh was at the navigation desk, staring. “Yes, Qaira?”

  I stepped inside, pulling a sheet of paper from my pocket. As promised, I’d drawn the genome. It’d only taken me half an hour, but I’d had to access euxodia twice. The genome was available in Enigmus’ data-stream, but I had a sneaking suspicion that the scholars catalogued each visitor. The last thing I needed was for Calenus to find out my plan. He wouldn’t like it, nor would he have liked me handing off our genetic code to a lesser race.

  Yahweh took it, looking it over. “Double helices. I’m surprised.”

  “I accept your proposal,” I said, nodding at the sheet. “That enough to whet your palette?”

  “Maybe,” he murmured, folding it just as I had and stuffing it in his breast pocket. “I might need your help again, if we’re still alive.”

  “With?”

  “We’ll discuss that later,” said Yahweh, pointing to the seat at the control panel. “Sit. Let’s talk about more pressing matters.”

  Sure, because Leid’s expiration wasn’t at all a pressing matter. The look on my face made him fumble.

  “Pressing as in quickly-approaching, sorry.”

  I sat, saying nothing.

  He eyed the door, frowning. “Belial was able to get some information from Malphas Tremm. Lucifer has gathered all of the Primers onboard his command ship, Judas, and plans to head us off at Lochai, should we make it there. His Obsidian Court contact confirmed that armed forces are waiting at the Lochai-Avernai border. Both borders. Fifty thousand give or take.”

  Primers. I’d only heard of them. Demon soldiers of the highest tier—psions, all of them. Fifty thousand demons against our twenty. Worrying.

  “I’ve already made Seyestin and his team aware of the danger. We’re an hour and a half out, and not much can be done about the coming battle. But if we survive this, I will need you. Or, more specifically, I will need Commandant Qaira Eltruan.”

  I arched a brow.

  “The Primers are a problem. I don’t know what you’ve heard of them—”

  “Nothing.”

  “—Belial made it clear that they are a force to be reckoned with. Not much seems to faze him, but he looked very concerned when we spoke.”

  “You’re protected by Vel’Haru. What’s there to be concerned about?”

  Yahweh sat on the chair beside mine, moving several pawns across his chess board, playing himself. “There are as many as two dozen Primers, and three members of the Jury.”

  “Four.”

  “Leid is in no condition to fight, if you haven’t noticed.”

  Oh, I’d noticed. She had almost fainted in the conference room.

  “Three,” I conceded.

  “Although Lucifer would never admit to this, the Primer program was developed as an attempt to fight Vel’Haru. Given what happened to Sanctum, I’m sure you can understand why.”

  “… I thought they were special police.”

  “An illusion. They have state of the art technology and armor, pulse shields and other gadgets designed to defend against you and your ilk. They’ve never been tested, no need until now, so I can’t say whether or not the Primers will even be effective. Better to err on the side of caution, regardless.”

  “So, somewhere in that longwinded bit of exposition, you said you needed me.”

  He shot me a look. “If Lucifer has an elite team, then we need one, too. I’ll have my officers recommend their most skilled physical combat fighters. Train them like you would Nehelian enforcers.”

  I blinked. Twice. While I was willing to do anything in exchange for Leid’s health, there was a glaring problem with Yahweh’s idea. “Angels lack Nehelian strength. I can’t train them to fight like Nehel.”

  “You could teach them similar tactics. Close range combat is your specialty. We need that here.”

  “While that might work, it’ll take time. Too much time. Your special team of whites won’t be ready before we reach the Judas.”

  He smiled, thinly. “Several hours ago you asked me to cure expiration in a span of three months. If I’m expected to work miracles, so are you. Do we have a deal?”

  I fought a scowl. “You’ve turned into a real piece of work, you know that?”

  Yahweh awaited my verdict, smile frozen on his face.

  “Fine, whatever.”

  “Excellent. I’ll include that in the briefing.” He stood, snatching up a folder so full it was nearly spilling pages. “I’m heading there now; walk with me.”

  I had to laugh at his command, but complied and followed him out the door. He locked the station behind us and we ventured to the conference room elevator. An alarm blared three steps down the hall, but I quickly realized that it was a briefing announcement. All officers were to report to the conference room.

  My identity was about to be made known, and I could only guess how the angels would take the news.

  ***

  If the crowd was upset, I couldn’t tell. At the end of the briefing—where Yahweh refined Ezekiel’s charge founded on Belial’s intel—it was announced that officers were to hand over their best close-range fighters to Justice Qaira Eltruan. He’d said my name as quickly and incoherently as he could, hoping no one had heard. But they’d heard.

  I’d been expecting a riot, but all I was met with was confusion. They stared at me like one might a mythical creature: fearsome, curious, disbelieving. No one had even bothered to inquire as to how I was still alive.

  I might have been able to go by Alezair Czynri if not for my eyes. Demons weren’t Judges. That was a known fact. I was forced to face the music.

  I could only imagine what was going through everyone’s heads. Qaira Eltruan was alive, a Vel’Haru, and fighting alongside Yahweh Telei, an angel. If no one had questioned The Atrium’s fabricated history prior, they sure as hell would now. I added to the confusion by placing a protective hand on Yahweh’s shoulder as he spoke, to which he turned and looked up at me, unnerved.

  I averted my gaze from the shocked, silent crowd, staring at Leid instead. She held my eyes with her own, solemn and apologetic. She wondered why I was doing this. I couldn’t tell her yet.

  Cereli was distressed by Yahweh’s instructions, knowing good and well she would have to hand over several of her best soldiers. To me, no less.

  But she didn’t speak her complaints, keeping it all contained in that cold, angry stare. She was Ground General, which meant we would work closely together in the future. Fun.

  Meanwhile Belial sat front and cen
ter, grins aplenty, seeming amused by the whole event.

  When the briefing concluded, the officers filtered out of the room and prepared for battle. We were forty minutes out. The Ezekiel was descending the Trenhaza Ridge, and Leid, Adrial and I watched the giant floating escarpments skirt by the ship, drifting only feet away from the hull. Things were getting awfully familiar as we neared what had once been Sanctum’s jurisdiction.

  Zhevraine had left on a transport vessel with Belial and the other snipers. They would circle the battle, picking off ground targets. Yahweh had put everyone to work, it seemed.

  In a few moments the three of us would part ways, too. Adrial was ordered to accompany General Trede’s ground army, and Leid would head to the command station to observe and instruct alongside Telei.

  I had no particular role to play yet. Yahweh had called me a wildcard and said I was free to help as I saw fit, as long as I didn’t get myself killed.

  As the angels reported to their stations, I noticed how few were left to guard Ezekiel’s deck. Like on the Ark, the angels had placed ninety-percent of their forces on the offensive. In the event of a breach, there would be little defense standing in the enemy’s way. I suppose that had been Yahweh’s plan for my special team, but for now Ezekiel was manned inadequately, and I didn’t know if Leid could put up enough of a fight to protect herself or the Argent Commander. I doubted it—not with how sick she looked.

  For her sake, I chose to man the deck with a small group of soldiers. They seemed relieved and frightened by my company.

  Cereli and her army were assembling near the three dozen transporters on the south-side port. Adrial noticed them and pushed off from the rail.

  “See you on the other side,” he said to Leid and me, an ominous farewell, before setting off.

  We were alone.

  Our embrace in the conference room seemed like a dream. The warmth of our reunion had fizzled out, leaving us wordless and confused. Too much needed to be said, mended, but neither of us knew where or how to start. Instead we just stood there, trying not to look at each other.