I understood why she pushed me away, but I didn’t understand her disappearances at night. After dinner Leid would vanish, not showing up again until well past midnight.
The others were beginning to notice this as well, and apparently she wasn’t talking to anyone. Adrial spent the entirety of dinner trying to make idle conversation, using tactfully placed questions that might bait Leid into revealing where she was sneaking off to. But it didn’t work.
And surprise, surprise; she cancelled that night’s lecture as well.
At first I’d been kind of okay with it, considering I got an incredible amount of sleep. But now it was starting to concern me.
I spent the evening reading in the library, catching up on my studies since I could actually focus now. After an hour or so, Adrial walked in. He took a seat across from me, grinning.
“Well look at you; studious even when your mentor is MIA. Your mother would be proud.”
“I don’t know who my mother is.”
“Ah, yes. That’s probably for the best. I never liked my mother.”
I just read my book, not knowing what to say.
“So, how are you and Leid lately?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I had the sneaking suspicion he was trying to use the same tactic on me as he had at dinner.
“How are your lessons going?”
“Barely had any in two weeks.”
“Have you noticed anything strange about her lately?”
Eyebrow. “…Have you?”
He waved. “Well it’s already fact that she’s been running off, but I was wondering if you’d noticed anything else that might, you know, give me some insight as to where she’s going?”
“Yeah,” I remarked, laughing, “as if she’d tell me anything.”
“You’re with her ninety-five percent of the time. You’ve noticed nothing?”
“Not ninety-five percent of the time. Lately more like ten. She’s still pissed off at me.”
Adrial tilted his head. “Pissed off at you?”
I nodded.
“About what?”
I sighed, not really wanting to talk about it. “Something happened a couple of weeks ago.”
“Something?”
“I went crazy and almost…” Okay, that wasn’t how I’d wanted to explain it. “I called her a name and then tried to kiss her.”
“What did you call her?”
“A cunt.”
His mouth almost hit the table.
“We were having an argument.”
“I can’t believe you’re still alive.”
“I know. She clocked me good, though. Broke a few teeth. Thank god we can regenerate or I’d be toothless.”
“You called her a cunt and then you tried to kiss her?”
“Yeah, I… It made more sense to me at the time.”
“You need to work on your moves.”
“Moves?”
“Yeah, you know, moves.” He made a circle with one hand and put his finger through it.
I made a face. “What are you, five?”
“I’m not the one calling a woman a cunt and then trying to bed her.”
“It wasn’t like that. I just… I can’t explain it. Something took over me and I lost all self-control.”
Humor left his face. “Oh,” he mouthed.
“What?”
“Did you feel all hot and tingly?”
I grimaced, surprised by the accuracy of his question. “Yeah, actually.”
He nodded, glancing off.
“You know what happened?”
“I’m sort of surprised Leid hasn’t already told you this, considering you spend so much time with her. You know; just for discretion.”
“Spit it out.”
“Leid’s the Queen.”
I stared at him, saying nothing for a while. “Queen of what?”
“She’s the Queen of our race.”
“Our race has a Queen? You mean like ants, or bees?”
“Just like that. Leid’s the only sexually reproductive female of our generation.”
“So we can die.”
He reclined, staring at me weird. “Of course we can die. Not easily, but we can.” From the look he was giving me, it seemed like there was something else Adrial wanted to say, but instead he smiled. “Queens release pheromones that mess with our heads sometimes.”
“You’re saying she sprayed me?”
He laughed again. “Sort of. I don’t think she has control of it, though.”
“Where do Vel’Haru hail from, anyway? I know they’re not from The Atrium.”
The smile withered from his face. “Exo’daius.”
“Where’s that?”
“Another universe; far away. We’re exiled.”
“Why?”
“Leid did something.”
I leaned in. “What?”
“That’s not for me to say. She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”
“I doubt she’ll ever tell me anything.”
The smile returned, but it was thin. “Probably for the best.”
There was no point in pressing him. I knew when to throw in the towel. “If Leid’s the Queen, and she can’t return to Exo’daius, does that mean one of us will have to…?”
Adrial shook his head. “We can’t mate with her. We’re guardians.”
“Guardians. I’ve heard that word a million times but still have no idea what it means.”
“Guardians are Vel’Haru who were turned from lesser beings. Only true born Vel’Haru can reproduce with the Queen. They’re called nobles.”
“…Oh.”
“There’s only one noble still alive. He’s in Exo’daius, serving as King in Leid’s absence.”
“How many of us are there?”
Adrial counted in his head. “Twelve.”
“Only twelve?”
“Yes.”
“Only twelve of our entire race?”
“We’ve never had a large population. Our biological characteristics don’t allow it. Think of it as a food chain—”
I had a feeling this wasn’t going to make any sense whatsoever. Adrial’s metaphors seldom did.
“—where prey is the most abundant. The top of the food chain has the least individuals. If you look at it in terms of power, then that explains our small numbers.”
Wow, impressive. “Are Vel’Haru the most powerful beings in the Multiverse?”
“Don’t let it go to your head, but yes, as far as we can tell. Anyhow, I was asking about Leid’s strange behavior because I thought you might know more than me.”
“I don’t even want to know anymore, really.”
“Oh? Because I know something you don’t know.” He’d sung that last part like a taunt.
My façade shattered. “Spill it.”
“I followed Leid to the cephalon several nights ago; she took the portal to Lohr.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would Leid go to Hell so late in the evening?”
Adrial shrugged. “No idea, but with all the heat going on between the Courts and that hearing coming up…”
“Yeah. You think she’s meeting Naberius in secret?”
“Doesn’t really sound like her, but who knows.” He glanced at his watch, cringing. “Ouch, I’m late.”
I lifted a brow. “For?”
He slid out of the chair, heading for the hall. “There’s a festival on Southern Alacontre. They’re celebrating their goddess’ rebirth.”
“…So?”
“So there are a lot of drunken, beautiful women, and I’ve got several hours to spare.”
Adrial’s hobbies were limited to reading, drinking, and pagan orgies with otherworldly women. I opened my book, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t be judgy,” he mocked. “Can’t afford to be picky these days.”
As he left, I called, “Wait.”
He paused, glancing back.
“What were you before a guardian?”
&nb
sp; “A prince.”
I had always known he was royalty. “No, but what?”
“Erkhan, though you wouldn’t know anything about them. They’re not associated with The Atrium.”
“You ever miss your home?”
“Sometimes, but Home’s gone now. Hit by an asteroid.”
I winced. “Sorry.”
“See you in the morning.”
***
My eyes swept across the weekly wine selections in the cabinet. My favorite brand was out—probably because it was everyone’s favorite—and it was taking me a lot longer to decide. After fifteen minutes of grazing, I’d narrowed it down to Pelo Segua or Keristani. Pelo Segua was a dark wine from the Calabian Steppes, rich and sweet, like a chocolate-fruit combination. It was good, but I had to be in the right mood for it. Keristani was made in Media, one of The Atrium’s first field-prototype planets.
The Celestials had selected forty uninhabited worlds and placed animals/proto-humans, their genetic material specific only to each planet, on them. With influential factors and a genetic predisposition for metaphysics, their evolutions were swift and faith-oriented. The Contest took five hundred years to design, or so I was told.
The idea that intelligent beings followed similar paths to progression wasn’t difficult to assume when you looked across these worlds— even ones outside of The Atrium’s reach. Should these humans ever transcend their worlds and find each other, they would discover that a lot of their genetic material matched. But there were more obvious indications, such as bipedal formation, eyes at the front of their heads, placed closely together, opposable thumbs (this one was very crucial) and traits for language/communication. Of course there were very different features as well, since each world had led them on a unique evolutionary path, but the larger-scale direction was always the same.
Even using us as a comparison would suffice; Adrial, Zhevraine, Leid and I looked more alike than not, even though all of us hailed from different worlds. Ear formation, eye formation, skin pigment, height, facial structure and other microtraits were unique between us all, but again we all head noses, eyes, skin, feet, hands, etc.
We all had genetic material, we all had blood, we all had organ systems. The similarities went on and on and on, and thinking about it made my head spin. But in light of this deduction, the fact that I resembled the inhabitants of The Atrium more than anyone else in the Jury hadn’t eluded me. All I lacked was their wings.
I didn’t feel like heavy wine tonight, so I snatched the Keristani. Its potency was slow-working so I’d have a bit of time for my research.
On the way to my room, I noticed Leid had left her door slightly ajar, and I froze. Leid always locked her door before vacating her room. That was practically a rule. She was a very private person, and even though I’d been more or less surgically attached to her hip for a hundred years, I hardly knew anything about her.
But why didn’t she lock her room tonight? Had she left in that much of a hurry?
As I stared, the discussion with Adrial slowly crept back into my forethought. Entering her room was like digging my own grave, but I couldn’t shake the curiosity over her late-night trips to Hell.
Holding my breath, I pushed the door open the rest of the way. It swung slowly, revealing the interior: a black leather couch in the center of the room, a glass coffee table and scarlet throw rug, a bookshelf in the corner, a bed draped in silver sheets and black duvet. There were a thousand pillows strewn over it; I had no idea how she had any room to sleep. Leid was tiny, but not that tiny.
Once inside, I moved to her wardrobe. Opening each drawer, I rifled through her clothes, careful not to unfold them or else she’d know someone was here. I had a feeling she’d know anyhow, but better to leave less evidence than more. I lingered in her underwear drawer, lifting a pair of laced panties with my little finger. Then I realized how creepy I was being, and continued on my search. There were no clues in Leid’s wardrobe.
On to her bookshelf.
I froze halfway across the room when dishes clattered downstairs. I hadn’t heard the front door open, so it was probably Zhevraine making tea. Sometimes I forgot she lived here. Thinking better of the situation, I closed Leid’s bedroom door so Zhev wouldn’t walk by and see me. She wasn’t a snitch, but then again I’d never broken into our Commander’s bedroom before. There were quite a few boundaries I was crossing here.
There was a package of cigarettes on the top shelf, resting beside an oil burner. Nothing was burning in it, but the residual scent was flowery. Lilacs, maybe? No, not lilacs, but like lilacs. Probably a flower I didn’t know.
The second shelf was dedicated to a collection of texts, ranging from biochemical sciences all the way to philosophic and historical accounts of apocalypses. Interesting combination. For a second I imagined Leid sitting on that leather couch, cigarette in hand, reading about apocalypses. Didn’t seem like her, but then again I had nothing to compare that image with.
Resting atop the row of spines was a tiny, gold giftbox, wrapped in red ribbon. Its strange placement alone merited further investigation, and I opened the lid. There was a little card inside, handwritten.
‘Take the Lohr cephalon at eight. There will be a craft waiting to pick you up.
—S.’
Bingo.
Leid was secretly meeting with a demon in Lohr.
I raked my memory, trying to think of who S might be. There were more than a few demons whose names started with the letter S, yet none of them were important enough to meet with Leid. Why meet with a demon at all? Why keep it a secret from us?
One mystery at a time.
I had something now, though, and perhaps Adrial could uncover more if I told him of my discovery. Time to go.
I placed the note back into the giftbox, careful to set it exactly as it had lain on the spines. On my way out, something caught my eye—a flicker in my peripherals—and I turned toward the wall near Leid’s bed. Light from the windowpane cast an eerie glow against a fracture in the paint. No, not a fracture, an indentation. A doorway.
A hidden closet. It, too, was left cracked.
Don’t do it, warned Logic. Grab your wine and go to sleep.
Good advice, but I wasn’t going to take it.
Approaching the closet, I cast a quick glance at my watch. Eleven; Leid wouldn’t be home for another hour at least.
I pulled the door open, revealing a dusty storage space. It appeared empty, but as my eyes adjusted to the darkness I caught a glimpse of objects resting at the very back. The space itself was only ten feet deep, and I crawled halfway in to retrieve them. Coughing, I pulled out two black, dust-covered cases, setting them on the floor. At first I thought they were huge briefcases, but they were instrument cases. A violin and cello.
I knelt beside them, eyes lingering on the violin case. Then I wiped the blanket of dust away, placing my wine bottle beside my feet. My hands shook as I reached for the latches, and while I worked to open the case something stirred inside my chest. That empty ache returned full throttle, and I froze, trying to determine why.
The latches popped, and the lid opened. Inside, a white violin was nestled within a velvet interior. The case had protected it from dust and abandonment. Perfect, shiny, brand new. I picked it up, feeling its weight in my hands, thumbing its strange Q engraving at the base. I closed my eyes, encumbered by a thought.
Play.
My eyes opened, and I knew.
I knew I could play it.
I removed the bow and tucked the base of the violin underneath my chin, placing my fingers across the strings of the neck. I played, and it sounded professional. More disturbing was the fact that I had no idea what song I was even playing. My hands and fingers moved on reflex, gliding up and down the fingerboard. Again I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the cadence of the song and rapid-fire beat of my heart.
And then the warm, tingly feeling fell away, replaced by warning pangs that I was being watched. Startled, I spun.
&n
bsp; Leid stood in the doorway, staring.
I recoiled, dropping the violin and knocking over my bottle. It spilled across her white carpet, and I winced. All I did was look at her, waiting for the explosion.
But nothing happened. She didn’t move, didn’t say a thing. In fact her stare relayed fear, and then my fear fell to confusion.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, trying to soak up the spilt wine with my coat. “Your door was open and I thought—”
My apology reanimated her. She exhaled, appearing relieved. Her eyes trailed to my sopping coat. “Don’t. Wait a second.”
I stopped and she disappeared into the hall, returning a minute later with a rag and spray bottle. I moved aside as she knelt beside me, scrubbing the floor. “I can do it,” I offered. “It was my fault.”
“No, it’s fine. Can you put those away?” She nodded at the cases.
I put the violin back into its case, returning both to the closet. Leid continued to clean the stain in her carpet, her messy, disheveled braid slithering across her back. She’d gone to Hell dressed casually: a black skirt, cream tank covered by a light blue cardigan as long as her knees. Whatever that meeting had been about, it definitely wasn’t business-oriented.
“We need to talk,” I said.
“Do we?” she asked, head tilting. “Well, you’ve got my full attention now.”
“You’re the Queen.”
She stopped scrubbing. “Zhevraine told you?”
“Adrial.”
Leid didn’t say anything and resumed scrubbing.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think it was any of your business.”
“It sort of is, considering you’ve been pissed off at me for weeks over something I had no control over.”
“I’m not pissed off at you.”
“You are so.”
“Am not.”
“Then why are you avoiding me? Why did you cancel all my lectures?”
Leid sighed, tossing the rag down beside her. “That has nothing to do with you. I’m not angry, Alezair.”
“So I have nothing to do with you avoiding me?”
Leid didn’t respond, staring at the floor.
“Could you maybe try a better excuse?”
Still nothing. Leid just sat there like her batteries had run out.
The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy Page 7