“Yeah, we do have a problem,” I said, and Yahweh’s eyes slid to me. “But it isn’t her. It’s him.”
I pointed at Seyestin.
The archangel lifted a brow. “Say again?”
“You come into her office freaking out every other day. Your constant badgering backed us into a corner. Our jobs are hard enough already, we don’t need a bureaucratic sift crawling up our asses, too.”
Adrial put his face in his hands, anticipating the worst. I could have sworn that guy was clairvoyant. Or maybe just an excellent judge of character.
Seyestin’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. He probably couldn’t think of anything to say. I was pretty sure no one had ever spoken to him like that before.
Leid looked stricken. “Alezair, don’t—”
“No, they need to hear this. Seyestin, your Commander was right, but let me rephrase him; the Argent Court’s incessant whining left Leid with the only option of violating the code. Was there really another option? I mean,” I glanced at Yahweh, “you act as if she’s able to randomly pull impeachments out of her ass. Your code has made it practically impossible to impeach anyone, so how are we supposed to abide by it and you?”
My sarcasm went over Yahweh’s head completely. “I don’t recall asking her to pull anything out of her ass, Justice.”
Seyestin shot out of his seat, almost taking the entire table with him. “How dare you speak to our Commander like that! Who do you think you are?”
I gave him a serrated grin. “Someone who could crush your skull with his bare hands, if pushed far enough. Just because I work for you doesn’t mean you can shit all over me. Remember what I am, and what you are.”
Zhevraine and Cereli watched the ordeal like it was an everyday thing while Leid just sat there, staring at her lap again.
“Enough,” Yahweh said, grabbing Seyestin’s arm. “Sit down, it’s fine.”
Seyestin glared at his Commander. “How is it fine? Why are you letting him talk to you like that?!”
“He’s concerned for Leid. I understand his frustration,” Yahweh responded, trying to smile. As Seyestin sank back into his seat, his Commander glanced at me. “But I think it would be best to stop using asses and shitting in your rhetoric from now on. It’s unprofessional.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I muttered, taking a sip of my drink.
Yahweh paused, clearing his throat. “Back to the discussion at hand; Leid, I didn’t realize the amount of stress you were under and for that I am very sorry. If anything like that should happen again, please come to me before deciding to engage in indecencies with Celestials.”
Leid nodded, glancing away. It was strange to see her taking orders from someone, let alone a kid.
“Let’s talk about Samnaea Soran. I can only imagine that she’s not taking the death of her brother very well.”
“You have a pretty good imagination,” Adrial said, rejoining the conversation. “She was here five days ago and nearly killed Alezair.”
Yahweh looked at me, surprised. “Why you?”
“She was trying to get information out of me.”
“Information about the true nature of Leid and Samael’s relationship?”
“Pretty much.”
“Did you tell her?”
“It was either that or cut my balls off.”
Yahweh stared, unsure if he should press on that. “…What does Atlas Arcantia have to do with any of this? Why were you there?”
“Atlas Arcantia is sort of unrelated. We were going after a statue.”
“A statue?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Well, we…” I trailed off, trying to think of how to explain it.
Adrial swooped in to my rescue. “The statue is actually the corpse of a dead Vel’Haru queen. Leid had placed it there before her contract with The Atrium. In a brief, stupid moment of trying to gain Samael’s trust, she told him about it,” he explained, shooting Leid a look. “Samnaea found out, and then so did Caym when he went after them.”
Yahweh squinted. So did I, but for a different reason. I hadn’t known what that statue really was. I also hadn’t known that our bodies turned to obsidian when we died. Just another creepy thing about us.
“Why would any demon care about a statue in a world outside of The Atrium’s study?”
“It leaves me powerless in its presence,” Leid said. “I’m sure they were hoping to use it to exact some form of revenge.”
“How does it make you powerless?”
“There’s something in it. A presence.”
“A presence?” Seyestin repeated, incredulous.
“We’re not at liberty to discuss any of this. As you know, Exodian affairs are strictly that,” said Adrial, interjecting.
Yahweh conceded. “Where is Caym now?”
“Dead,” I said.
He sighed, massaging his forehead. “Lucifer will be very upset about this.”
“He was, quote, cleaning up Samnaea’s mess, unquote.”
“Which could have been avoided entirely if you all had simply come to me,” scolded Yahweh.
No one said anything for a while.
“Should we discuss their punishment?” Cereli asked.
Yahweh’s eyes drifted over us, a troubled frown spreading across his lips. “There will be no punishment for them, General Trede.”
The twin Archangels looked like he’d just punched them.
“Sir, Leid is the Commanding Judge and she had sex with an Archdemon,” Seyestin said, trying to stay calm.
“She also saved your life last week,” I mentioned.
He gave me a look. “If any one of us committed the same crime, we would face execution.”
“But she isn’t one of us,” Yahweh said. “We can’t sentence a Vel’Haru to death. They don’t die like we do, and the Jury is the only thing holding our world together. They’re too necessary to kill, so we’re going to have to bend the rules a little.”
“Something needs to be done, though,” Cereli pressed. “The Obsidian Court will revolt over two of their generals dead and the Jury off scot-free.”
He nodded. “Yes, I’m aware. Commander Raith and I will have a talk. If anything, the Obsidian Court is going to have to have their fit in private. We’ll agree to arrest the Justice Commander only if Samnaea Soran is arrested as well.”
“The Archdemons would never go for that,” Zhevraine noted, nodding her agreement. “Likewise, it’s fair. They’d have no choice but to motion for a mutual pardon.”
I was beginning to understand what Adrial meant about Commander Telei. He may have been weird, but he could hack through bureaucratic red tape like a pro.
“Is there anything else that I should know about before I leave?” asked Yahweh.
The four of us glanced at each other, shrugging. This was probably an excellent time to mention my indiscretion with Samnaea, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
“Nothing I can think of,” Adrial said.
Yahweh stood, so did his generals. “I won’t take up any more of your time. I’ll call Lucifer when I get back to my office and set up a time to meet. I don’t look forward to telling him the news.” He smiled. “Don’t get up; we can see ourselves out. Thank you for the wine.”
They walked out of our dining room. A second later, I heard the front door close. Adrial and I sat there, staring after them. Zhevraine started cleaning off the table, and Leid was still looking at her lap.
“That went a lot better than I expected,” Adrial said, finishing his wine.
“What the hell is going on? The way he was talking made it sound like he and Lucifer are best friends.”
“They are. They have a lot of history; most of it precedes The Fall.”
I tilted my head. “Then…what’s the point of the contest? I thought they were trying to win.”
Adrial smiled. “I’m surprised you’re so naïve. The entire point of this contest is to keep another war from
happening. Lucifer and Yahweh work hard to maintain peace between the angels and demons. It takes teamwork. They’re in this together.”
“…So there’s no consequential slavery?”
“Of course not. The threat is necessary though or the demons would have no reason to participate.”
I glared at him. Adrial tilted his head.
“What’s the matter?”
“Uh, I just realized that my job has no meaning to it whatsoever. There’s no absolution in it; it’s nothing but a sideshow.”
“We’re preventing the deaths of millions, Alezair. It has more meaning than you could ever imagine.”
“We’re perpetuating a lie.”
“Sometimes the truth does more damage than the lie. Remember that.”
Something caught my eye. I turned to Leid, grimacing. “Hey.”
She looked up.
“Your nose is bleeding again.”
Adrial’s eyes shot toward her, widening. He looked a lot more worried than me. Zhevraine had frozen in the doorway, watching Leid as well. For some reason they were extremely concerned about her nosebleed.
Leid wiped her nose and studied the blood on her fingertips. Her hand was shaking. She was breathing heavy. “A-Adrial, I-I’m—”
The last part of her sentence came out as a choke. Her eyes rolled into her head and she started to seize. As she fell out of the chair, Adrial bolted to his feet and caught her before she hit the ground.
“Zhevraine!” he screamed. “Get me a towel!”
She whirred out of the room.
I knelt beside Adrial as he cradled our noble. When I looked at him in question, he only shook his head.
Why was she still sick? The statue was destroyed.
***
Adrial had taken Leid to her room and they’d been in there for an hour. Zhevraine had disappeared somewhere, and I was in the library, staring at the wall.
I was so tired that I could barely keep myself upright, but the recent turn of events made my exhaustion only physical. I was too wired to sleep. My body and mind compromised with a fugue. It felt good to unsettle my eyes and stare at nothing for a while, but my thoughts kept returning to Leid.
Was she okay? I didn’t believe that that had been another panic attack. Not with the way Adrial was acting. I tried to press Zhevraine for answers but she’d been elusive, acting like she didn’t want to talk about it. She had kept telling me to wait for Adrial.
I was about to throw in the towel and head to bed, but then Adrial appeared in the library entrance, and I froze mid-stand. He didn’t say much at first, muttering under his breath about something as he paced the room. The sight of him was concerning. Adrial looked lost; I’d never seen him like this.
“Is Leid okay?” I asked.
He looked at me like he hadn’t even noticed I was there. “She’s sleeping. The worst is over, I think.”
“What worst? What happened to her?”
Adrial muttered under his breath again, shaking his head.
I was getting frustrated. “Can you please tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you anything!” he shouted, and I jumped. “That was her job. It’s always been the noble’s responsibility to educate their guardians!”
I had no idea what that was supposed to mean.
Adrial sighed. “Alright, sit down.”
“Why?”
“Sit down or I’m not telling you.”
I sank into the chair, feeling my pulse quicken. No one ever told you to sit down unless they were about to give you really bad news. “Is she dying?”
“No, not dying.”
I exhaled.
“You said her nose was bleeding again; has that happened before?”
“Yeah, in Atlas Arcantia. She was vomiting blood, too. Told me it was the statue that was making her sick.”
Adrial laughed, but it was angry. “She’s a real piece of work, that one.”
“So it wasn’t the statue?”
“The statue withers her power, but it doesn’t make her bleed.”
I squinted. “Why would she lie to me?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I know the answer to that, but I don’t know how to put it into words.”
“Okay, so what’s happening to her?”
“As you know, we’re not immortal,” he began. “Vel’Haru have life spans of about five hundred Exodian years. After that they go through a process that we call expiration.”
This story wasn’t sounding good already.
“When a Vel’Haru expires, they lose all ability of rational thought. We go insane. Expiration has warning signs. The first signs are severe migraines, vomiting—”
I thought of Leid puking on the stairs of Terabicz. My jaw clenched.
“—stomach aches and fever. Nose bleeds and seizures are usually signs of advanced stages. That means it’s been going on for a while and she hasn’t told any of us. She didn’t just lie to you, Alezair.”
I kept quiet. I didn’t even know what to say.
“You know we don’t physically age, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, my response almost a croak.
“Alright, well technically we don’t die either. Maybe we do, but none of us have ever stayed sane enough to document it. Expired Vel’Haru are dangerous. They’re a threat to the Multiverse.”
“… And that means what?”
“It means that once they fall into their expiration comas, the final stage before their slip into insanity, it is our duty to euthanize them.”
He fell silent, giving me time to absorb that. I couldn’t. “We’re going to kill her?”
Adrial’s eyes left mine, trailing to the ground. “Not we. Me. It’s my duty. I would never ask you to do that. Normally expired Vel’Haru return to Exo’daius to live out their last days. Obviously that isn’t an option for us. Leid would rather destroy the Multiverse than go back there, I’m sure.” More quietly, he added, “But if Calenus hears about this, then…”
The library was dead silent. I kept staring at Adrial, but I wasn’t really looking at him. I was looking at nothing. Our conversation replayed in my mind, and then I thought about the century I’d been here. Still-frame moments of Leid and I together swept behind my eyes. I’d taken all that time for granted. Anger and sadness coalesced.
I started to laugh.
That wasn’t the response Adrial had anticipated. He frowned. “Are you alright?”
“Am I alright?” I recited, laughing harder. “That has to be the most retarded question anyone has ever asked me. You just told me that Leid is going insane and we’re going to have to kill her, and then you follow it with ‘Are you alright?’”
I didn’t feel like laughing anymore. Now I felt like breaking stuff. I felt like I was going to explode. I grabbed the end of the desk, flipping it. It slammed into the ground, exploding into pieces.
Adrial backed up. “Calm down.”
“This is so fucked up!” I screamed. “I keep thinking that somewhere the fuck-uppery has to reach a max, but you all never cease to amaze me!”
“Listen to me, there’s no point of losing it. This is just the way—”
“Yeah, this is just the way it is, right? So is this what I signed up for? Spending four hundred years at a seven-day-a-week desk job, until one day my nose starts bleeding and I start puking up my insides, and then I go insane and have to be put down like a rabid dog?”
Adrial only looked away. I’d summed up our lives perfectly.
“Leid killed her noble, didn’t she? He expired and she had to kill him.”
He nodded. “Yes, with help. She wasn’t able to do it alone; expired Vel’Haru are twice as strong, and Aipocinus was very strong. For some reason he didn’t have an expiration coma like the rest of us. He just expired, or so I heard. I wasn’t actually there.”
“How long does she have left before the coma?”
“It’s different for each of us, but I woul
d guess a couple of months at most.”
Saying nothing else, I stormed out of the library.
“Where are you going?” he called.
“I don’t know.”
I stepped out of Cerasaraelia and had the impulse to run. Just run until I couldn’t see this place anymore. Thoughts of Leid wrapped my mind in barbed wire, and I had to remind myself to breathe. I was so angry. I’d never been this angry before; not at Durn Manor, not even in Collea.
Leid.
She’d never let me in. She’d never told me anything. In the end she must not have given a damn about me, because eventually I would have found out. And I had. Like this. Had she told me, maybe I would have had some time to prepare. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like the ground was sinking and the walls were closing in.
I lingered in the cephalon, staring at all the portals. I could take one and go somewhere else. Stay there. Make a new life for myself. But the thought of leaving frightened me. I knew that the moment Leid was gone I wouldn’t have a purpose anymore. Maybe I never had a purpose to begin with, but at least I’d pretended I did. A guardian without a noble was like a person without a heart. Leid was essential. She was a piece of me. Purgatory had never felt like home and I’d always hated my job, but I didn’t mind being here because I was with her. Stress and sleeplessness aside, that was always my directive. That was why I’d left the Nexus.
Where would I go when she was gone? What would I do?
And then I couldn’t think anymore. I sat on the steps of the cephalon and put my face in my hands. Either I was too tired to care or I’d finally realized that it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Not me, not this, not whatever purpose I thought I was serving. We lived, we died, we were forgotten and the Multiverse went on.
I fell asleep, dreaming that I disappeared.
XXII
THE SILVER NOBLE
I WOKE UP SEVERAL HOURS LATER with a horrible kink in my neck.
At first I couldn’t remember where I was or how I’d gotten there, but as I rubbed my neck and stared at the cephalon’s interior, it all came back to me. The heavy feeling in my stomach came back, too. I didn’t know what time it was since time blended in Purgatory. Night and day looked exactly the same. It never got dark; the sky was always grey.
The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy Page 20