The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy

by Terra Whiteman

  “That’s actually a good idea,” said Yahweh, brows arched.

  “You too,” I added, eyes on the kid.

  Telei blinked. Belial and Naberius turned to look at me, surprised.

  “Have Yahweh stand center,” I explained. “Belial and Naberius can be on either side of him. It says a lot more if you’re actually standing with the Commander of the Argent Court, don’t you think?”

  Belial sighed, seeming pained. “Bloody hell, I really don’t want to admit how brilliant that sounds.”

  “I’m a genius, I know. I can even outshine self-proclaimed media gurus.”

  Vakkar laughed in spite of me. “Never mind, remove him.”

  “Don’t bother; time’s up,” I said, heading for the door. “Good luck. Hopefully all your fans still love you.”

  Belial grinned. “There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

  “Shows how much you know.”

  *

  Seyestin and Michael met me in the conference room. I was last to arrive, and when I did, I caught a glimpse of the General and my private eyeing each other like adversaries. I’d invited Michael because he was showing the most promise; I needed eyes and ears when I wasn’t around, and he was the likeliest to memorize and preach my orders to the others.

  “I guess we don’t have a plan yet,” I said, wading through all the tension.

  “I’m only here to oversee and advise,” sniped Seyestin, shooting Michael another look. “Why is he here?”

  “He’s my best student.”

  “Really? Because he was my worst.”

  Michael kept silent, staring at the idle holoscreen as if neither of us had said a thing.

  I joined them, glancing at the screen as well. “Load Yahweh’s plan and let’s see what we can do.”

  Seyestin entered a command into the control board. A glowing topographic map of the Tehlor-Orias border flickered in front of our eyes.

  A second later, the war council’s battle plans filled the template. Estimated placements of enemies were highlighted in blinking red spheres, our best measures of offense/defense were marked in blue. The council must have been at it for hours, since there were over a dozen variations of projected tactics.

  I swallowed hard. There was no way that I could prepare for all of these in just forty minutes.

  “How many primers, do you think?” asked Michael, almost a whisper.

  I shook my head, unsure. “We downed quite a few of them in Golheim. Has Belial or Naberius ever said how many there actually are?”

  “More than what you killed,” said Seyestin. “I’m willing to bet we’ll see more of them in Anevhin than we ever have. How organized they’ll be without the Praetor is another matter.”

  Avarice Delvori; what a prize she’d been. Her image still sent a shiver down my spine. Looking at her had been like looking at my sister—if Tae had resembled me a little more. I’d never seen a demon with eyes like mine. Not until her.

  For some reason I was disappointed that Praetor Delvori was dead. Maybe it was because I wanted to know more about her. But it wasn’t too late. It seemed like Yahweh had known her well enough. I’d have to file this in the back of my mind for now. “Our team’s primary objective is to protect the Commander and Ezekiel’s halo.”

  “You could probably do that on your own,” muttered Seyestin.

  “I’m not as strong as you all think,” I said, frowning. “Enough pulse rounds and I’ll be nothing but a rolling head.”

  Seyestin smiled, imagining that.

  “I’d still be alive,” I back-pedaled, “but it’d take me a while to regenerate my body.”

  “What happens if someone stomps your head into mush before you can regenerate?” asked Michael.

  “I’d die. Probably.”

  “Are we strategizing or not?” Seyestin intervened. “I’ve got a million things to do, and listening to you two talk about stomping on decapitated heads isn’t one of them.”

  “Two thirds of my team will remain on the ship,” I said. “The other will assist special forces. The overview says the primary objective is to subjugate Archdemons Mastema Tryess and Azazel Lier.”

  Seyestin nodded.

  “And how are you guys planning to board an impossibly-guarded command ship?”

  “This is exactly why you should have been at the council.”

  I sneered. “You know, everything would move more quickly if you stopped being such a dick.”

  Michael’s expressionless façade broke. For a fraction of a second he looked as though he might laugh, but quickly glanced away to hide his face. As rebellious as the sheet may have reported him, the acknowledgement of authority almost seemed embedded into angel DNA. They longed to serve a hierarchy—to serve something, anything.

  Seyestin glared at me for nearly half a minute before he said, “Archdemon Vakkar still has a few connections behind enemy lines. He’s been contacted by a group of rebel soldiers who are acting in secret within the ranks of Tehlor City.”

  I cringed. “Why does everyone like that guy so much?”

  “He’s a celebrity.”

  “He’s a politician,” I corrected him.

  Seyestin sighed. “If he were an actual politician, no one would like him. By now a few of the civilian demons have probably started betting on us. If Belial wins, they’ll want a piece of his success.”

  “He’ll have a lot of promises to keep, then.”

  “I guarantee a lot of them will be disappointed. I can only imagine what he’s promising these idiots. Fame, fortune, blah, blah, blah.”

  I grinned.

  For the first time ever Seyestin had amused me, and not at his expense. He realized this too, because his smirk faded and we both glanced away, uncomfortable.

  “So,” he said, clearing his throat, “we’ve arranged for a small team of twenty soldiers to infiltrate Tehlor City and board a demon transporter to Anevhin’s command ship with the rebel group.”

  “Uh, how are they supposed to go unnoticed?”

  “The rebel group has managed to ascertain Obsidian Guard uniforms. Obsidian Guards protect command ships and their Archdemons, respectively.”

  “How’d they manage that?”

  “Stripped from corpses, I imagine.”

  Stripping corpses was one of their most serious offenses, next to murder and treason. Celestials didn’t mess with their dead like that during war. I’d witnessed their ritual, pre-settlement. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it, seeing as rituals and irreverence hardly seemed to mix.

  “And what happens if one of them is unmasked during the operation?”

  Seyestin hesitated. “I didn’t say it was a good plan. Just a plan. We still have other strategies to fall back on, but anything is worth it right now.”

  “How outnumbered are we this time?”

  “From what we expect, we aren’t outnumbered at all. Not with our reinforcements. But that could change in a matter of moments.”

  He didn’t have to tell me. “No, that plan could work, given the right tactics.”

  Seyestin was amused by my critique. “I’m all ears.”

  I was about to tell him to bring his sister in, but then I remembered Cereli was dead. General Trede was now the only general, which meant he had to oversee both aerial and terrestrial forces. No pressure. “Scratch your special team. I’ll take a dozen or so of my men and do the job myself.”

  Seyestin blinked. So did Michael.

  “Come on, look at me. I fare a better chance of blending in than any angel you send, not to mention I’m the equivalent of two dozen men.”

  “And what about your angel team?” asked Seyestin, incredulous.

  “Do we have any coua?”

  Seyestin lifted a brow. “What?”

  “Is there any coua around?”

  “Yes, I heard you, but what does that—?”

  “It can be turned into dye. We can wash the angels’ hair with it. Dilute it down a bit more, and we can even give them
a dark complexion.” I glanced at Michael. “Can’t do anything about their eyes, though.”

  Seyestin considered the offer. “Congratulations, you’ve managed to impress me.”

  Tch. “Yeah, because I give a shit about impressing anyone; most of all you.”

  “Pick your team and be at the conference room in fifteen minutes,” he said, ignoring me. “I’ll call an emergency war council and propose the idea to Commander Telei.”

  “I volunteer to go,” said Michael, the eagerness in his eyes bordering maniacal. Something had changed between now and training. He no longer saw me as a murderer. And for some reason Michael’s evident admiration made me feel stronger.

  “We’ll discuss that in a minute,” was all I offered in response, heading out of the conference room behind Seyestin.

  The night wind was brisk and heavy, and I shivered into my coat.

  The frost of Ezekiel’s deck sobered me as I watched soldiers scramble about. The command ship army worked in shifts around the clock. The only difference between night and day around here was… nothing, considering the sky was always dark. This place felt a bit like Cerasaraelia.

  These thoughts eventually led to others, and before I’d even made it to the hangar, my mind had once again settled on Leid.

  Oraniquitis.

  I really needed a cigarette.

  *

  Adrial was barely speaking to me, but still gave me a malay cigarette when I asked for one. The first half of the cigarette was spent in silence, with occasional angry glares from Adrial. Eventually he could no longer keep his opinions internalized and spouted, “If Leid saw what you were doing right now, she’d cry.”

  “It’s just one cigarette.”

  “Not that, you idiot.”

  I’d known what he meant, but didn’t offer a response.

  “I understand why you’re doing it,” he added in a softer tone. “Yahweh told me about his research. I admire your hope. It’s… refreshing. Nostalgic, really—but it won’t work. Nothing will. You’re marching down a road to ruin.”

  I exhaled a cloud of purple smoke. “Waxing the poetic as always. I’ve been down this road more than once.” Honestly, I’d never left it.

  “She made me promise her,” said Adrial, and my skin tingled in warning again. That feeling was back. “I had no idea what she meant at the time, but now I do.”

  The malay in my system managed to dull the aggression my instincts normally would fuel. The drug wasn’t nearly as intense as I remembered, but that was good thing. “What are you talking about?”

  “She made me promise to kill her once she was ‘no longer herself.’ I thought she meant expiration, but she didn’t, did she?”

  I finished the cigarette and tossed it aside, exhaling smoke through my nose as I took a step toward him. “Do you plan to keep that promise?”

  He stared, stoic.

  “Because if you do, then we have a problem.”

  “I could separate your head from your shoulders, Qaira.”

  “Maybe, but that means you’ll have to kill both of us. Could you really live with that?”

  Adrial looked away, finishing his cigarette as well. “Perhaps, perhaps not.”

  “We’ve still got a fighting chance,” I said. “Yahweh’s really on to something, and—”

  “The Court of Enigmus is going to return here and flay us.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  Adrial lifted a brow. “Is that so? By all means, I’d love to hear your prediction.”

  “I’ve spoken to Oraniquitis. She’s agreed to help us.”

  Adrial laughed. His laugh wasn’t in spite, nor was it at me. It was sad, knowing, like he’d heard that all before. It made my heart sink. “And what did she ask for in return?”

  I hesitated, debating to tell him the truth. For once in my life, I wouldn’t be a liar. “She wants me to help her topple the Court of Enigmus.”

  “Did you agree?”

  “Of course I did. I would have agreed to learning ballet if it kept everyone on this ship alive.”

  Adrial sighed. “Calenus had a twin sister once, and when Oraniquitis found out he was plotting to overthrow her, his sister was found hanging by hooks the very next day. Her limbs and head had been ripped from her body. He’d had to place her statue in the Sanctuary, piece by piece.”

  I smirked, shaking that off. “Well, lucky for me I don’t have anything precious in my life. Not anymore.”

  Adrial said nothing, his gaze one of pity.

  I was running out of time. I’d briefed the war council and my team half an hour ago and was supposed to be at the hangar in fifteen minutes. My selected group was getting their hair and skin dyed as we spoke, and there was something else I needed to do before setting off on that transporter.

  “If we survive the Anevhin Cataract, you and I need to sit down and have a talk.”

  “What shall this talk entail?”

  “I want to hear everything you know about Oraniquitis. Especially how Calenus defeated her.”

  All he did was nod. The look on his face depicted how hopeless he thought our situation was, but clearly something was keeping him here rather than high-tailing it back to Exo’daius. He had some faith in me, albeit fractional. I appreciated it.

  We parted without another word. Adrial disappeared at my back, into the shadows of the approaching dusk, the scent of malay carried off by the wind.

  *

  I’d felt eyes on me all the way back to the residential sector. I looked for the source once or twice, but saw no one. The malay made me indifferent to practically everything, and I savored the numbness. Little flecks of light bordered my peripherals, as if someone was throwing glitter at both sides of my face. A new and interesting side effect.

  My room was dark, save for the glitter, and I hit the lights and rummaged through the closet. Leid had ink stashed somewhere, I knew it. She’d had to refill our marriage vows probably a thousand times since.

  The angels couldn’t make ink like we used to. It took weeks of burning and evaporating moisture from coua to be turned into a tar-like substance, capable of staining skin. My skin itched for paint. I’d felt naked without it, even though I knew it was just a stupid custom from a race and civilization a thousand years removed.

  But they had been my race, my custom, and inking my skin was as close as I could get to waving a banner in their name.

  I found it stashed in one of Leid’s bags. Her canister was the same one I’d used in Sanctum; how she’d acquired it was anyone’s guess. I caught an image of her picking through Eroqam’s ruins with a tear-stained face; carrying her cello and my violin, searching for something, anything, that might serve as a token of our paradise lost.

  I didn’t know if that was what had actually happened or just my mind filling in blanks, but I hadn’t conjured that image voluntarily. It was almost like a memory, except not one of mine. Vel’Haru weren’t psychic. As far as I knew, anyway.

  I sat on the bed, ink and pen in-hand, closing my eyes and remembering all those nights Leid and I had shared, where she’d inked my skin as I lay on my stomach; her violet eyes alit with life, her smile not yet fractured by loss. These memories carved a hole in me. Even if I somehow managed to save her, our lives could never be like that again.

  “May I be of some assistance?” whispered a voice on my right.

  I opened my eyes. Oraniquitis was seated on the bed next to me, awaiting my response with an eager grin.

  Startled, I glanced toward the door, then back at her. I had no idea how she’d even gotten in here; our doors were hydraulically automated and not exactly quiet. “With what?”

  She nodded at the ink canister.

  “You want to ink my skin?” I reiterated in disbelief.

  “I know everything my host does,” she explained. “Therefore, I am just as much an expert in inking as your wife.”

  After a moment of consideration, I gave her the canister and pen. “Please don’t make me re
gret handing you a sharp object.”

  Oraniquitis laughed. It sounded like Leid, except wispier. “If I wanted to hurt you, Qaira, I wouldn’t need a flimsy ink pen.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t.”

  “Need an ink pen?”

  “Want to hurt me.”

  Oraniquitis dipped the pen into the canister, starting on my bicep. She worked incredibly fast, filling in lines that had long since faded. It seemed her memory was even better than mine. “And why would I want to do that?” she cooed. “You are my kin, after all.”

  “You didn’t seem to think so when you threw me off Eroqam’s port.”

  She shrugged, continuing her work. “You weren’t my kin back then, and you were being a beast. You’d caused a lot of pain to my host, and her pain is my pain. Heartache is the worst pain of all. I know that now.”

  So did I.

  “But you seem different, more honorable. You’ve gained fealty to something other than yourself.”

  Oraniquitis was so close to my arm that I could feel her breath across my wet skin. She even smelled like Leid. Being so near to her cut me deeply, because she wasn’t my wife. We were engaging in a tradition that seemed too intimate to be shared with anyone except for her.

  Oraniquitis sensed my discomfort and withdrew. “All done. Would you like me to do your face as well?”

  “No. If anyone sees that, it’ll blow my cover.” I stood without thanking her and gingerly pulled my shirt back on, taking care not to smear the drying ink. I headed for the door.

  “If it’s unclear,” started Oraniquitis, and I paused in the doorway with my back to her, “I’m trying to make amends.”

  I turned with a snarl, my eyes like daggers. “You killed my brother, slaughtered my people and leveled my city. Because of you, Leid has lived a horrifying life. Nothing you do can make up for that.”

  She offered me a cunning smile. “And you think we’re so different?”

  “I never said that.”

  The door closed before she could respond. As I walked down the corridor I swabbed some of the wet ink with my fingertips, smearing it over my eyes.