“Thank you.” He puffed his cigarette, cuing Samnaea to pull one out as well. He lit it for her. Despite their attempt at propriety, the animosity was easy to detect. Belial was handsome, with bright green eyes and sandy brown hair all the way to his shoulders. His vainglory presented itself as a glimmer in his eyes and a crooked smile that never faded. Belial always looked to know a secret that you didn’t.
As he and Samnaea spoke about bureaucratic things, I decided it was time to rejoin my company. Two steps across the floor, I caught a glimpse of Leid by the refreshments table. She was with a demon—the blonde general from the hearing. They were having an argument.
A heated argument, by the looks of it.
“Who is that?” I called to Samnaea and Belial, pointing at the general.
They followed my hand. Samnaea looked surprised, while Belial looked angry.
“You invited him too, I see,” muttered the Archdemon. “Why not turn my masquerade into a political brawl?”
“I didn’t invite him,” she said, near-whisper. “I had no idea he was here.”
“Hello,” I waved, reclaiming their attention. “Who is he?”
“My brother,” said Samnaea. “Samael.”
Click went the final piece. Hello, S.
By now the argument had earned a bit of attention. A few guests had given them some space, all the while Naberius kept a close watch from the punch table. He and Belial shared a look across the room, and Belial shook his head. On the floor, Adrial and Zhevraine had stopped dancing, both turned toward the commotion. I upped my audio perception, catching a few words of the altercation.
Scheming bitch.
Liar.
Leid leaned in close.
I never felt a thing.
He slapped her, and she hit the banister. A few people shouted their surprise.
And then I was across the room, throwing Samael off. He turned, surprised, and I punched him so hard that his head whipped back and he was off his feet. Drinks and hors d’oeuvres exploded everywhere as the demon general crashed into the refreshments table. Everyone started screaming, but I barely heard it. I’d always been considered an easygoing guy. Carefree, Leid had said. No one would recognize me now.
My anger was like a storm gathering momentum, and even though Samael was subdued, I couldn’t stop. A line had been crossed and all I saw was red, red, red.
He hit the floor, doused in refreshments, and I was on him with another fist wound. Again and again I smashed his face, shattering his mask until it was dust. Suddenly I was yanked away by a strong hand, its pull so fierce that I nearly fell.
As Samael was helped to his feet by a group of demons, Leid held me back. Adrial stood sentry beside her in case I tore loose, but she was more than enough.
The general’s face was a bloody mess, mask fragments wedged deep beneath his skin. He spent a while coughing and wiping his nose. Naberius spoke quietly at his side—I couldn’t hear what was said because my heart was like a war drum, but judging by his expression he was trying to diffuse the situation. Surely Samael Soran wouldn’t stand still for long.
The crowd was getting angry, now shouting things at us. In their eyes I’d just assaulted one of theirs, on their turf. Hardly anyone had seen the events leading up to my attack.
As tension escalated to danger, Leid ordered Adrial to get me out. No sooner had she given her charge, Samael ripped from the group and came at me. Anger had fuddled self-preservation; a demon against a Vel’Haru was like a lion against a mouse. I’d only used half my strength the first time.
I braced myself, wrenching from Leid’s grasp at the chance that I needed to fight. Before Samael could reach me, Naberius, and the group snatched him back. It took four of them to keep him contained. Stronger than most.
Insults were thrown, obscenities aplenty. We snarled and threatened each other, all the while Leid screamed for Adrial to get me out.
I was dragged out of the ballroom, through the foyer, and thrown on the front steps. As we left, I heard Belial shouting for order. Samnaea had watched the fight from the door, abashed. I imagined our friendship would be complicated from here on out.
The fresh air caused my anger to deflate. I sat on the steps, holding my head. Adrial stared at me from the bottom of the staircase.
“What the fuck got into you?” he demanded.
“He slapped her. You didn’t see that?”
“Of course I did. Leid can handle herself. You nearly killed Raith’s First General. Have you any idea of the fall-out that would have brought?”
“I barely hit him.”
“You rearranged his face! There’ll probably be permanent damage, Alezair. Clearly you don’t know your own strength.”
I didn’t say anything, recalling the look Leid had given me before I was dragged out of Durn. Shame, anger—but there was something else as well. Something not as bad as the other two.
In the subsequent silence, Adrial gazed at me, conflicted. I’d just shown him a side he’d never seen before. Honestly, I had no idea where that fury originated. The normal me would have only stood there and waited for Leid to kick Sameal’s ass herself.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I fucked up, I’m sorry.”
“Come on,” he said with pity in his eyes. “You’re beyond drunk. Let’s get you home.”
He offered his hand, and I took it. Halfway to the cephalon, things got all fuzzy. The scenery blurred and Adrial’s voice was incomprehensible. Placing one foot in front of the other grew practically impossible. Naberius had passed out after two drinks. How many did I have? Five? Six?
The last thing I saw was a close-up of Adrial’s shoes as my knees buckled and I hit the pavement. You’ve reached your limit, warned my brain, just before I blacked out.
Naberius wasn’t such a pussy after all.
XI
THE EYE OF EVERY STORM
MY EYES SHOT OPEN, SEARCHING THE COLD DARKNESS.
Silhouettes of people surrounded me, their features caliginous, like cardboard cutouts painted black.
There was a stage a dozen rows down. It was vacant, save for a cello resting next to a chair, illuminated by a single spotlight. I was in some sort of concert hall.
I couldn’t move. Although my hands and feet weren’t bound, they felt like heavy like cement. I tried again, to no avail.
Applause erupted through the hall, but the silhouettes weren’t clapping.
A woman walked on stage; violet gown, long black hair tied in an ivory ribbon. As the applause died, she slid into the chair and placed the cello between her legs. I leaned forward, trying to get a good look at her. Once I did, I wished I hadn’t.
Her face was covered by a mask of skin. No eyes, mouth or lips.
She began to play, and I recognized the song. It was the same song I’d played in Leid’s bedroom. Despite my horrifying situation, the music was ataractic. My body melted, erasing all fear and confusion. The song was beautiful and ugly. Despair and bliss coalesced. Here I knew what the song entailed; I knew what everything meant.
The bow suddenly fell across the strings, killing the music with a screech. The cellist stood, cello shooting from her legs, hitting the stage in an explosion of wood splinters. She raised the bow, pointing into the crowd.
At me.
She shouted a name that I’d never heard before. And then the audience combusted; the concert hall was now a sea of flames.
The silhouettes were motionless as flames licked their bodies, but the hall erupted in screams. Agony lifted in a deafening crescendo as I struggled to break free of the chair. The fire reached me; singeing my clothes and hair. I could smell my own flesh burning, and I tried to scream but no sound came from my mouth. And over the roaring flames, the cries turned into a chant. They shouted a single word, over and over again:
Savior.
In my peripherals, a figure burst through the smoke. A silhouette too, but he was holding something.
…A bucket?
He pitched it forward
, and water—
***
—splashed across my face. I shot out of bed and fell to the floor, tangled in my sheets. I wrenched myself free of the sheets, wiping water from my eyes. A boot tapped beside my head.
Tap, tap, tap
My gaze shot upward, murderous.
Zhevraine stood over me, holding an empty bucket.
“What the fuck was that for?!”
She dropped the bucket and it clanged against the floor. “Commander’s orders.”
My eyes flew to the clock. It was noon. Shit.
I bolted to my feet and searched for a towel. “Why didn’t someone wake me sooner?!”
“We all took turns trying. Leid told me to come back here and throw a bucket of water on you. Last resort.”
As she explained I threw piles of clothes across my room, still searching for that towel. “Shit, shit, shit!”
She watched, amused. “You should tidy your room.”
I found the towel and sprinted out the door. “Tell her I’ll be there in half an hour!”
“You owe me a lunch break!” she shouted back. A minute later, Cerasaraelia’s front door slammed shut.
Despite the rush, I paused in front of the shower room mirror. My face was gaunt and pale; dark circles plagued the spaces beneath my eyes. I looked like a zombie.
Fluctuations in metabolism for Vel’Haru could be seen in real-time. If we didn’t eat a certain amount each day, it would show the next. That said, alcoholism was taking a toll on me. The hangover I suffered had reduced my body to a withered mess. I’d need to eat something before heading to the office or else I’d scare the shit out of Nephilim and the processors.
I was about to step into the shower, but a fierce pain shot across my upper back. The sensation was so intense that it brought me to my knees.
Hobbling back to the mirror, I turned around and saw protrusions from my shoulder blades. They looked like fingers tearing at my flesh from the inside, trying to escape.
I screamed.
As I was about to telepathically call for help, the pain vanished, and I was left gasping and huddled on the floor. Recomposing myself, I stood and looked in the mirror again.
Nothing. My shoulders were fine.
I leaned over the sink with a wince, massaging my temples. That demon juice really fucked with my head.
***
I burst through the front doors of the Celestial Court with half a pastry dangling from my mouth, nearly dropping my briefcase.
Given what had happened last night, paired with the fact that I was really late, I tried to look my best. Maybe Leid would reconsider getting blood all over my pristine blue shirt and black tie.
Nephilim greeted me as I raced by, and I only mumbled in response. When I reached the first step, I heard, “Alezair!”
I froze, glancing back. Nephilim pointed to an object sitting on her desk. It was a giftbox. Gold, scarlet ribbon.
I said nothing, nor did I move. All I did was glare at it.
Nephilim tilted her head. “Are you alright? You look terrible.”
“What is that thing?” I demanded, ignoring her question.
“Not sure. I found it sitting in front of the court after lunch. It’s addressed to Leid, so I was wondering if you could take it to her.”
I approached the desk, picking it up. Like the one I’d found in Leid’s bedroom, it was the size of my hand.
Suspicion. “You don’t know who sent this?”
Nephilim shook her head.
“I don’t think we should give it to her, then.”
“Why not?”
“Well given what happened last night, and—”
Oh-shit-no—
She leaned forward, brows arched. “What happened last night?”
Me and my stupid mouth. There was probably a good reason why our secretary knew nothing about the fray at Durn.
“Never mind,” I fumbled. “I’ll take it to her.”
Nephilim blinked as I sauntered away. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“A perfect ten,” I muttered, waving her off. “Don’t you worry about me.”
The office was dead silent. I crept in, glancing at Leid’s desk. She sat there; glaring, finger tapping her chin.
Maybe if I acted like nothing had happened, she wouldn’t—
“Finally decided to show up?”
Abort, abort.
I sank into my seat, saying nothing.
For some reason, that was the only thing she asked. She was back to her paperwork by the time I’d sat down. I frowned at the stack Nephilim had left for me. It was nearly two feet tall!
Oh, the giftbox. I’d almost forgotten.
“Hey,” I said, holding it out to her. “This was—”
“I don’t want it,” she muttered, not even bothering to look.
“Uh, but—”
“It’ll take more than a smart outfit and a fancy gift to fix what you’ve done, Alezair.”
“No, wait. This isn’t—”
“You have absolutely no idea of the mess I had to clean up after you left. We’re lucky Belial was able to keep things under wraps, but even he can’t promise that that fight won’t make the front headline of every journal across Hell.”
Anger. “He hit you, and you did nothing about it.”
“You didn’t let me do anything about it. I barely had time to blink before you were over there, kicking his head in. The first time I bring you out, you get into a drunken fight with a court official. What am I going to do with you?”
“It had nothing to do with me being drunk.”
“You’re drunk too often lately; you need to cool it.”
“Why am I in trouble for standing up to the scumbag who was groping you in the corner? You say what I did was humiliating, but letting a demon handle you like that in front of everyone isn’t?”
“Alezair, that was none of your business. I can handle myself.”
“Could have fooled me,” I said under my breath.
Leid whirred to my desk, pulling me over it. Before I could even yelp in surprise, she slammed my face into the stack of documents, holding my head there. She leaned in. “You don’t think I can handle myself?”
I lashed out, wrenching away. The moment I tried to sit up, I was eating my cases again. “Get off me!”
“Is this humiliating, Alezair? Are you humiliated by the fact that a helpless little girl is overpowering you?”
I stopped struggling and laid there. She had made her point.
Leid released me and returned to her seat. In the altercation, most of the files on my desk had fallen across the carpet.
Adrial burst in, looking at a document in his hand. “Leid, you need to see this. I think one of the psi-essence data files is corrupt—”
He froze two steps across the threshold, looking at the floor, then at us. Leid and I ignored him, staring daggers at each other.
“Never mind,” said Adrial. A nervous smile, and he was gone.
Okay, now I felt humiliated. I wanted nothing more than to storm out of the office, but pride kept my ass glued to the seat. I leaned over and collected the files from the floor.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Whatever.”
“You made it sound as if I can’t protect myself. I’m not a damsel in distress.”
“I never thought you were. But I’m sorry; I can’t let someone touch you like that, no matter what you think.”
Leid stared at me, conflicted. Eventually she glanced away, returning to her work. I did the same. Five minutes later, I heard, “So, what did you get me?”
I eyed her, confused. “Get you?”
“The box.”
“Oh, that wasn’t me. And you would have known that if you’d let me get a word in edgewise.”
Leid tilted her head.
“Nephilim asked me to bring it up here. It was left on her desk while she was out to lunch. It’s addressed to you.”
Leid stared at it, darkening. She held out her hand. “Let me see it.”
I tossed it to her.
She shook it, placing it to her ear. I could have told her it wasn’t a bomb. She unraveled the ribbon and lifted the top. Her expression melted.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I …This is…?”
I leaned over her shoulder, looking for myself. The box held an orange flower, freshly picked.
“That’s it?” Wow, anticlimactic much?
She removed the flower from the box, holding it up. “It’s a phalasia.”
“A what?”
“A flower found in—”
The Aeon chimed, and both of our heads turned toward the sound. Before Leid could press a rune, Adrial’s voice invaded our minds:
We just received reports of trigger activity in Najudis, Tal Ayen. Over one hundred demons have taken the city!
Leid and I looked at each other, our horror mutual.
Leid, answer me. Zhevraine and I are on standby. We need your orders to move!
The phalasia slipped between Leid’s fingers, drifting slowly to the floor.
XII
CONTRIVANCE
LIGHTNING STRUCK A NEARBY TREE, setting it ablaze. I watched the flames lick the gnarled, dead branches. The ground was absent of grass, everything charred black. This was a terrible place to be standing, but I didn’t think anyone was in the mood for my two cents.
Beyond the cliff, a city burned. Screams and gunfire echoed into the sky, carried by the wind.
I crouched on the ledge as Leid stood beside me, watching the carnage below. She was draped in a long gray coat, the red Jury insignia patched onto her shoulder. The rest of us wore black. We’d been here for half an hour, unable to move until the watchers returned.
Watchers were demons and angels assigned to otherwordly patrol. They used something like psi-essence trigger technology to create a link to sub-intelligent species. Those demons and angels were actually sitting in a chamber back at the Celestial Court, strapped to chairs and covered in headsets and circuitry. Wouldn’t want that job.
Through the smoke, a group of ravens soared toward us. We watched their approach, sharing a look. Twelve had gone to Najudis; only four had returned. One landed on Adrial’s shoulder, another on Leid’s. The remaining two perched on a log a few feet away.
The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy Page 11