The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy

by Terra Whiteman

  My stare froze on Commander Yahweh Telei, and a gasp caught in my throat.

  Shocked I was to discover that the leader of the angels was a teenager.

  Black suit and navy tie, the Argent insignia pinned to his breast—that was the only reason I was forced to accept that he was Commander Telei; insignias were strictly reserved for leaders. A long, red scar ran across one of his eyes, stopping midway down his cheek. Tendrils of ice blond hair fell across the bridge of his nose, hiding most of the scar in their shadow.

  His face was absent of expression and his gaze was directed ahead, seemingly at nothing. He looked incredibly bored. I’d heard Yahweh Telei was a genius; a man whose intelligence stood unmatched. Despite his youthful appearance, I knew there was some truth to that just by the look of him.

  Beside Commander Telei stood Cereli Trede, Seyestin’s twin sister and Argent Court Second General. Her brother and Leid were discussing something backstage.

  On the next balcony sat Lucifer Raith, who seemed to fit the part a little better. Long black hair, white suit, red tie, a gloved hand curled around a silver cane resting against the edge of his seat. His eyes were strikingly blue, rimmed with scarlet like the rest of the demons. Two men stood sentry beside him, one blonde, one brunette, both in black suits. I assumed those were his generals.

  Commander Raith appeared a little older than me, though by how much I couldn’t tell. Demons and angels aged, while Vel’Haru did not. The members of the Jury (me included) would forever appear the age of which we’d changed.

  Suddenly, Commander Raith’s eyes met mine.

  Then, they widened.

  Startled, I looked away.

  There was a heavy thump in my chest as I averted my gaze. Tingles of anticipation ran up and down my spine, but I had no idea why. And before I could think any more on that, the lights dimmed and the crowd grew quiet.

  A spotlight flickered over the podium center stage, a luminescent pillar in the darkness. Leid emerged and took her place behind the podium, a cluster of documents in her arms. She cleared her throat, splaying the sheets across its surface. “All rise.”

  The crowd stood in unison. I was about to as well, but Zhevraine stopped me by grabbing my arm. I looked at her, and she shook her head. Adrial was trying not to laugh. Silly me for thinking all rise meant everyone.

  “I would like to thank you all for coming tonight. For the new members of the Obsidian and Argent Parliaments, I will introduce the Jury of the Celestial Court.” Leid paused, stepping aside. “Justice Adrial Trisyien.”

  Adrial stood, and I counted five seconds before he took his seat.

  “Justice Zhevraine Khrost.”

  Zhevraine followed suit.

  “Justice Alezair Czynri.”

  I stood, counted to five, and then sat. When my name was called, there were murmurs among the crowd. Commander Raith was still looking at me. I wondered if he’d looked anywhere else since.

  “And I am Justice Commander Leid Koseling. Parties of the Argent and Obsidian Courts, you may be seated.”

  The crowd took their seats as Nephilim walked across the stage, in her arms was a leather-bound book, covered in silver ink. The Apsularis.

  The Apsularis held the rules of the Contest; Heaven and Hell’s compliance was sealed by blood-bound signatures.

  Leid took the book, nodded to Nephilim who departed backstage, and then placed it atop the podium. She flipped to a blank page.

  “The Celestial Court presents Argent General Seyestin Trede.”

  Seyestin moved into the spotlight, his gaze cutting into the audience like glass.

  “General Trede, please explain your proposal for a new code to the Court.”

  “Thank you, Justice Commander,” he said while Leid gave him the stage. “I’ve brought the Courts together tonight so that I may propose a new addition to the Code.” He let the sentence linger. “The issues regarding demon code violations have gotten out of hand. Perhaps the Fallen here tonight may disagree, or they may not; regardless of the fact, it is apparent that the members of the Obsidian Court are no longer abiding by the first law of the Code of Apsularis. “

  He began to pace.

  “In case any of you have forgotten, the first law states ‘neither angel nor demon may use direct contact to influence their creations’. This includes force, coercion and possession. That statement is pretty clear, wouldn’t you all agree?”

  The audience’s inactivity was confirmation enough.

  “So then tell me; if we consider ourselves intelligent, logical beings, and suffice to say we clearly understand what that first law entails, why do we keep breaking it?

  “Because there aren’t any real penalties, of course. We can break the code all day long, ladies and gentlemen, and while the direct perpetrators are executed, the real party pulling the strings just sit back and watch their tallies rise.”

  Seyestin paused, center stage. A grin formed across his face as he directed his eyes downward. Several front row Obsidian Court officials were feeling the heat. He reached into his coat, pulling out a sheet of paper. I couldn’t read it from where I was sitting.

  “It has been brought to my attention that certain members of the Obsidian Court have been holding private meetings with their subordinates, specifically those who have been suspected of using the psi-essence trigger technology that was outlawed across Hell.”

  He held the document up, and I shot glance at Raith’s balcony. I noticed the blonde general leaning over the sill. His Commander looked questioningly at him, and the demon quickly recomposed himself.

  Hmm.

  “In my hand is the ledger of demon participants at the latest Sanguine Court meeting, which happened a day prior to Dromolech’s prosecution. Ironically enough the document has come from the Obsidian Court itself. Now, will I read the names on this list?”

  Seyestin let the question hang, malice gleaming in his eyes.

  “Of course I won’t. What good would it do? We’d have to force the Obsidian Court to remove many of the more important names included here, which would result in them losing a great deal of officials. Despite popular belief, I’m a reasonable man. Instead, here is my proposal:

  “I’d like for all of us to start again; let us wipe the slate clean, followed by an addition to the Code. A new law. One that includes a fair penalty not only to the violators themselves, but those who oversee these violators; the very people who should be making an effort to prevent crimes from happening in the first place.”

  …Was that what Leid had found in Hell? Had she been talking about that ledger last night? How the fuck did she even manage to get that?

  A wave of murmurs swept across the crowd. Seyestin let the tension linger.

  “Obsidian and Argent Courts, the new law: souls gained by code violations will be automatically redirected to the contending realm.”

  The crowd went wild.

  Demons stood and shouted at Seyestin, barring their teeth, their faces contorting by fury. The angels also stood, applauding.

  Lucifer and Yahweh eyed each other from their balconies. I could have sworn I’d seen them nod.

  Leid definitely had her case. There was no way that Hell would ever have gone for the new law, but with that ledger, they faced the ultimatum of being exposed in front of the Archaean parliament. The Age of Cheating Bastardry had come to an end. Maybe my job would get a little easier, too. I was really hoping the demons would refute that law. I wanted to know who was on the list.

  The blonde demon general still looked out of sorts, his gloved fingers gripping the rail. I could almost taste his fury, but there was also pain in his eyes—the heartsick kind, like he just got dumped. It twisted the features of his otherwise perfect face. I’d thought at first he was on that list, but it seemed Seyestin’s proposal wasn’t what upset him at all. In fact, he wasn’t looking at the Archangel. He was looking at Leid.

  “Order!” she shouted over the screaming crowd. It did little to shut them up, and they
only grew louder.

  Lucifer and Yahweh stood, raising their hands. The crowd instantly hushed.

  Leid nodded her thanks to the two Parliament leaders and her attention shifted to the audience. “I call upon the Obsidian Court officials. If there are any objections, you may say so now.”

  Whispers. Murmuring. The front row huddled, speaking quietly among themselves. After a minute, Samnaea stood; dainty smile, warm eyes.

  “The Obsidian Court has no objections, your Honor.”

  Leid glanced at us. “Judges, have you any objections?”

  Adrial raised his hand.

  She arched a brow. “Justice Trisyien, are you objecting?”

  “It’s less of an objection than a question, Commander.”

  “… Go on.”

  “The new law states that the contending realm receives the souls that are gained through violations. So are we still executing the violators?”

  “We are.”

  “But then what if the violators were coerced into breaking the Code? There are official statements of demons having their debts erased if they volunteer for violations. Given the poverty level in Hell, perhaps we—”

  “That’s circumstantial, Adrial.”

  Adrial smiled. “Everything is circumstantial, Commander.”

  Leid paused, tapping a finger against her chin.

  “The new law acts as a deterrent for code violations,” Seyestin interjected, seizing the spotlight. “This goes for both realms. I’m not strictly placing the law on Hell.” He looked over the audience. “And although we can’t nullify the first law, the new one should mend any coercion.”

  Adrial sighed, reclining in his seat. “I have nothing more to add.”

  Leid’s attention rose to the balconies. “Commanders Raith and Telei, have you any objections?”

  They shook their heads, wordless.

  Leid reached beneath the podium, pulling out a dagger. Glints of light reflected off the silver handle, hitting my eyes like pinpricks.

  “I will now ask Yahweh Telei and Lucifer Raith to approach the stand,” she beckoned.

  Like puppets animated by a single puppeteer, Lucifer and Yahweh stood together, retreating from their balconies. They reappeared side-by-side, moving down the center aisle toward the stage.

  They took opposite sides of the podium, Leid standing between them. She handed Lucifer a pen. He signed the law written in the Apsularis, and so did Yahweh.

  Then they both held out their hands.

  Leid took Lucifer’s first, sliding the edge of the blade across the soft flesh of his palm. As she made a deep gash through his skin, the vacancy in his expression was unfaltering. He didn’t even flinch.

  After she did the same to Yahweh, the two locked hands, creating a single fist, mingling their blood which flowed out the bottom, splattering across the pages.

  Above, the Obsidian Generals were arguing about something. The blonde stormed off and the brunette grabbed his arm, stopping him.

  Hand flailing, snarling.

  The brunette conceded and the blonde left. That had been more entertaining than the main act. Leid kept her attention on the Commanders, but I didn’t believe for a second that she’d missed the commotion on the balcony. Leid saw everything.

  The Commanders’ hands separated, and they began to leave the podium.

  Someone screamed, “No!”

  All heads turned toward the center aisle. A demoness was running down it, gun clutched in a shaking fist.

  “I won’t let you do this!” she screamed, tears streaming down her face. “I won’t ever be a slave again!”

  She aimed her weapon at Seyestin Trede, and fired.

  Leid caught the bullet, whirring in front of him just in time.

  Adrial and I were on our feet, preparing to protect our noble. Zhevraine, for whatever reason, had chosen to sit this one out.

  Before either of us could move, a pulse erupted through the auditorium, and a surge of rippling air shot through the aisle. The demoness was thrown clear across the room, hitting the doors of the court. The impact was like thunder, echoing several loops. The armed demoness crumpled to the floor, unmoving. Whether she was dead or just out cold, I couldn’t tell.

  The hall was silent. No one moved. No one said a single thing.

  Leid’s eyes drifted over the audience.

  “Anyone else?” she challenged, blood oozing from the bullet hole in her chest. In case it wasn’t obvious, bullets couldn’t kill us.

  Argent guards took Seyestin backstage while court officials dragged the dead/unconscious demoness out of the courtroom. Leid, Lucifer and Yahweh were speaking quietly to each other.

  The crowd began to leave while Adrial and I sheepishly took our seats. Now I knew why Zhevraine hadn’t bothered getting up.

  ***

  One would think an assassination attempt might kill the evening’s mood, but nope.

  Although many of the Fallen had left, several of the Archdemons and Archangels stuck around for the booze and drugs that had followed.

  I sat in the corner of Cerasaraelia’s larger guest hall, rarely used except on occasions like this, slowly working on a bottle of Pelo Segua. Adrial was sitting beside me, smoking one of those lavender cigarettes. Apparently you weren’t cool without one.

  Demons and angels were scattered across the hall, talking, laughing, drinking. It was if the hearing hadn’t happened, although it was probably easy to forget after a hefty amount of chemicals and alcohol. They still hated each other, yet so did all bureaucrats of different houses. Politics was politics, nothing more.

  Yet one thing was certain: Celestials really knew how to party.

  “That was something, wasn’t it?” Adrial remarked as we watched Naberius and Nephilim dance around the hall together, loaded beyond belief.

  “They were talking earlier on, too. Since when do angels and demons mingle?”

  “No, not them. I was referring to that crazy bat at the hearing.”

  “Oh. What did she mean, anyway?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “She said she wouldn’t be a slave again.”

  Adrial stared at me like I’d spontaneously combusted. “Dear god, you don’t know about that?”

  I glanced away, frowning.

  “How don’t you know about that?” he repeated, marveling. “That’s like Jury one oh one.”

  Apparently Leid wasn’t as great a mentor as she’d prided herself on being. Likewise, I couldn’t understand why she kept leaving certain pieces of information out. This wasn’t the first time I’d asked about something that I should have already known. Actually, I lost count of the number of times it had happened.

  “Hold that thought,” Adrial said as I opened my mouth. He was looking ahead.

  I followed his stare, then straightened up.

  “Hello again,” said Samnaea, saluting us with her glass of wine. “This crowd is insane.”

  “It seems to be getting a little chaotic in here, doesn’t it?” I said.

  She nodded to the lavender cigarette in Adrial’s hand. “How are you finding it?”

  Adrial frowned, thoughtful. “They’re very good, but cigarettes aren’t supposed to make you see things. What is this laced with?”

  “Malay.”

  His frown deepened. “Ah. Shame on you for feeding hallucinogens to a judge.”

  She giggled. “Are you going to arrest me?”

  “I suppose I won’t if you give me another,” he said, taking another puff.

  She reached into her satchel, handing him the entire package. “I’ve got plenty at home. You should come to Junah one day; I can get you the finest—oh, that reminds me!”

  A white business card suddenly floated in front of my face. I took it from Samnaea’s fingers, reading the back:

  8:00 PM, DURN MANOR

  “What is this?”

  “A masquerade,” she said. “All of the Jury is invited. It’s being held at Belial’s home, of course.”


  Nephilim and Naberius twirled by, laughing.

  “A shame I can’t invite that little angel,” Samnaea said, sulking. “She looks like so much fun.”

  Adrial scowled. “You wouldn’t be saying that if she handed you five hundred soulcases at the end of the day.”

  I laughed. “Still sore about that?”

  “I’ll never forgive her.”

  Samnaea glanced at her watch, wincing. “Sorry, but I need to get going. Will you come tomorrow night? Both of you?”

  I looked away from her pleading eyes, settling my gaze on Leid across the room. She spoke with Seyestin and Cereli at the refreshments table. None of them were smiling.

  I could hardly imagine her wanting to attend any Hell-bound social functions, let alone a masquerade. And if she didn’t go, neither would I. She was my chaperone around anywhere that wasn’t Purgatory. Leid’s reasoning behind that was my lack of training, as walking on other worlds required a sort of diligence and reservation I didn’t have yet. She let the others go wherever they wished, yet I was treated like a prisoner rather than her student. Slave, nearly. Adrial once called me her pet.

  I didn’t like thinking about that. It made my blood boil.

  “Yeah, sure,” I muttered, plotting how I’d persuade Leid into going.

  “Great!” she said. “Well, I’ll see you there.”

  Samnaea curtseyed and then retreated into the crowd.

  Adrial sighed. “Oh, the things I’d do to her.”

  I smirked, taking a sip of my drink.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” he said, reading my face.

  “I don’t have any ideas. You’re the one who just announced you want to bed her.”

  “Intimacy with a Celestial is a code violation. For obvious reasons.”

  I frowned. “What isn’t a code violation?”

  “Touché.”

  Samnaea was striking, undeniably, but she didn’t hold a candle to Leid—although the Archdemoness seemed like a lot more fun to be around.

  My stare resettled on my noble. She was laughing, a rare occasion. The dress she wore showed the strange ink inscriptions across her arms, and the scarlet fabric danced across her hips whenever she moved.