***
“Qaira, your fingers.”
“What about them?”
“They’re stiff. Your notes are coming out flat.”
I was a renowned violinist, but Leid never failed to keep me grounded. “Whatever.”
“No, not whatever. The symphony is in two weeks.”
I gestured to the two empty bottles of wine on our end table. “I’m finding it a little difficult to practice right now.”
She grinned.
We spent the night playing music, our kitchen and dining room table still in chaos from dinner. Our house was always in a state of post-apocalypse, what with no maid and our mutual dislike of cleaning.
But I didn’t care, and neither did she. We drank life like wine—thirsty, passionate.
Leid set her cello aside and pried the violin from my hands. I watched, confused, but not confused for long, as she slid into my lap. She had stripped to her undergarments after dinner, her skirt suit still in the middle of the dining room floor. She unfastened my belt and I leaned back.
“Let’s sober you up,” she proposed.
She lowered her head between my legs and I inhaled, clutching at the couch. Fellatio was a rare event.
I watched her head bob, feeling the warmth of her lips and the sharp yet enticing sensation of her teeth. Leid never dealt pleasure without pain, and I had learned to love it.
My breathing grew heavy and my stomach muscles tensed as she worked me over, worshipped me. But I refused to close my eyes and kept watching, transfixed. Sometimes I still found it hard to believe that all of this was real. A scholar had come to my world ten years ago, powerful, untamable, teeming with animosity for both me and my beliefs.
And now here she was, between my legs, forever wearing our vows. The ink shined across the smooth, pale flesh of her arms, like fresh scripture over bleached parchment. It was beautiful.
She was beautiful.
My arousal fueled her own, and in no time she was straddling me. After we were done, we resumed our places on the couch, instruments at the ready.
“Better?” she asked, still a little heavy-breathed. Our sex was never gentle. It was hard, and violent, and savage. The kind that left a stitch up your side and tremors in your legs. I was always covered in scratches and bite marks.
I nodded.
“Alright, let’s take it from the top.”
V
REVERIE
MY FAMILY WAS LAUGHING IN OUR DINING ROOM.
I was in the kitchen, shot-gunning Cardinal. The work week had been terrible and I couldn’t pull myself out of this rut. Soberly, at least. Seldom did my brother and sister ever visit, and I wanted to be in a good mood for them. So, bombs away.
Fiercely abuzz, I returned to my seat with a jar of seasoning that I didn’t really need—only used as an excuse to slip away—and rejoined their conversation. In my absence, the topic had switched to malay. Nothing like discussing work at home.
But it was inevitable, really. That was our city’s only remaining blight. No one else knew about the clinical trials that Yahweh had proposed, except for Leid. Maybe several years from now malay wouldn’t be the prime choice of every discussion. Until then, I was forced to hear about it over and over. And over.
“Drug incarcerations are on the rise again,” said my brother. “And you wouldn’t believe the people we’ve brought in on drug charges. Important people. People who would be ruined if anyone knew. Malay isn’t just for the dredges.”
I knew that better than anyone, and my secret still lived to this day.
“Really? I haven’t heard anything about it in the headlines lately,” said Tae. “I thought maybe it was getting better.”
“No, it’s only getting normal. If the press released every malay charge and overdose that we saw, our newspapers would be novels.”
“That’s a depressing thought,” Roen muttered, sipping wine. “Didn’t Ila have a friend who just got arrested for malay?”
Ila nodded, solemn. “Unet. Remember her, Ara?”
“Kind of. I remember her boyfriend more. What a dick.”
“We went to school together. She was training to be a lia-dancer. She and her troupe performed at our theater three times last year. It’s sad. Her life is ruined now.”
I kept quiet, cutting up my steak.
“There might be some hope,” Leid said, and I looked sharply at her.
“What hope?” asked Tae.
“The Plexus is—”
“Leid,” I cut in, “that’s supposed to be confidential.”
She arched a brow. “Even to your siblings?”
Everyone at the table was staring at me. I sighed. “If any of you repeat what Leid is about to say, I will kill you. Personally.”
“And the most fucked up part about that is you’re probably serious,” said my brother.
All I did was wink.
Leid explained to them—in excruciating detail that took me back to those three insufferable hours in the conference room—all about Yahweh and the Plexus’ invention of a malay-like drug. Everyone sat there with wide, sparkly eyes, soaking up the prospect of a miracle cure like a sponge.
… And that was why I hadn’t wanted them to know. I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. This wasn’t the Plexus’ first attempt at a cure for our malay epidemic. I’d actually lost count of their attempts.
When the topic ran out of steam, Tae announced that she was pregnant. Everyone was stunned.
“Congratulations,” I said, and meant it. “You should probably stop drinking.”
“I will after tonight,” she said, laughing. “I’m not far enough along yet for a drink to hurt anything.”
“When did you find out?” asked Ila.
“Last week. I wanted to wait and tell you all in person.”
Roen smiled proudly, wrapping an arm around my sister. I didn’t like him much—he had an air of snobbery, much like every other powerful suit in Sanctum’s upper echelon, but he loved Tae and kept her safe, and that was all that mattered. She’d been charmed by his looks and sharp wit, and it wasn’t too long after his courting that she’d agreed to marriage.
I hadn’t found him nearly as endearing at first, especially the way his mouth quirked whenever he smiled, like he wasn’t really smiling but just pretending to, along with that devilish look in his eyes whenever they held you. But he grew on me. I came to learn that Roen wasn’t really an asshole; he just looked like one.
Ila was more than tolerable. Ara had certainly stepped up from his last catch. Few Nehelians were fair-haired, fair being auburn or sandy blonde, but she was, with kind brown eyes and tawny skin. She was smart and independent, and I had no idea how Ara had bagged her.
No offense to my brother, but they were nothing alike. Her affection couldn’t have stemmed from his title or money either, because she’d already possessed both. Ara wasn’t stupid but he held zero interest in art, meanwhile his wife was a dance instructor and curator of Yema Theater.
In any case, good for him.
“What about you, Qaira?” asked Roen, smirking. “Any children in your future?”
The table fell dead silent. My sister shot her husband an appalled look, while Leid lowered her gaze.
And then Roen’s face filled with revelation. “Oh. I… I totally forgot. That was so rude of me, I’m sorry.”
I glared at him, unable to tell whether or not he’d said that on purpose. That was another thing I didn’t like about him. He was unreadable. I didn’t want to believe that he’d just taken a stab at me. Roen didn’t have a death wish. His embarrassment seemed genuine, too.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, patting Leid’s leg underneath the table.
“Take it as a compliment,” Ila said, smiling uncomfortably. “We’ve all forgotten that you’re not one of us.”
“She is one of us,” I said.
Everyone nodded their agreement, and Leid smiled.
“Thank you,” she said. “You’re very kin
d.”
More silence.
“Soooo,” Ara ventured, “has anyone noticed how cold it’s been lately?”
***
I had totally forgotten about the work that I’d taken home with me, and now was forced to do it drunk. I had to squint to keep the numbers on the budget report from swirling around, and it took me twenty minutes to calculate something by simple arithmetic. But the weekend was over and this was due tomorrow. I wanted to be angry, but the only person I could be angry at was me since this was entirely my fault.
Leid had finished cleaning up the dining room and kitchen. Our guests were gone, and had been for an hour. She didn’t have to go back to work for three weeks, as the academic period had ended and there was always a month break between a new one, but I should have been in bed a long time ago.
“Does it bother you?” I heard Leid ask from the dining room doorway.
“What?” I mumbled, juggling with her vague question and arithmetic.
“That we can’t have children?”
I froze, looking at her. She looked back at me, leaning on the doorframe, sadness etched across her face.
“No,” I said. “I knew that when I married you. That doesn’t matter to me.” But I was beginning to suspect that it mattered to her. Thoughts of Roen and his stupid remark stirred more anger. He’d just opened a box that wasn’t easy to close. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” she said, moving to the chair beside the couch. Leid was small enough to fit her entire body in it and she curled, resting sideways with her head against the arm. There was a feline aspect to my wife. Sometimes she would curl like that across my lap, like an attention-depraved pet. It was weird and sexy all at once. “I take it you never wanted children?”
“I don’t know. I never thought about it.” And when I finally did, I wondered what that child’s life would be like if he or she was given my curse. No one deserved that.
Leid yawned and stretched. “Are you almost done?”
“Nope.”
“Due tomorrow?”
“I wouldn’t be sitting here if it wasn’t.”
“Must you hand it over first thing in the morning?”
“Probably not,” I said, suddenly knowing where this was going.
Leid smiled coyly and slipped out of the living room.
I sat there looking between my report and the hallway. And then I sighed in defeat and threw the report aside, following her.
Twenty minutes later I was glaring cross-eyed at the ceiling as Leid rode me into near-insanity. Her sexual appetite was appalling, in a good way, and her stamina was unreal. Trying not to come first was like trying to move a mountain. Impossible. Hopeless.
And she liked it that way.
Her fingernails dug harder into my chest and I clenched my teeth. She moaned and bucked and moaned and bucked and then my eyes rolled into my head as tingly warmth settled in my groin. My stomach tightened and I arched my back, warning Leid that I was dangerously close.
She slowed, keeping me on edge. Her hands left my chest and slid up toward my neck, fingers curling around my throat. She squeezed, lightly, but it was enough to labor my breath.
Her grip tightened and tightened until she was crushing my throat. Now I couldn’t breathe at all and my eyes shot wide open. She was staring down at me with a wicked grin, eyes pitch-black.
Black eyes.
I lay paralyzed, suffocating, while she fucked me with abandon. I had no idea what was happening or why it was happening—memories of that event in the music room flooded back, where she had sung that morbid hymn. And then she’d cried, and her eyes had looked like this.
I had forgotten all about that. It wasn’t real, I’d told myself.
She was too strong; I couldn’t shove her off. I couldn’t pry her hands from my neck either. Leid was killing me and all I could do was watch.
My vision blurred and that warmth in my groin returned, fiercer than ever. A gurgled choke escaped my lips as I exploded, and she rode me through it, whispering in my ear.
“That’s it, that’s it.”
She licked the side of my face and laughed. I started to thrash—my air supply was getting fatally low—and our headboard slammed into the wall, fracturing the paint.
And then her grip loosened.
Cold air invaded my lungs and I threw her off. Leid tumbled from the bed and landed on the floor against the wall, back pressed against it with her knees to her chest. She hung her head, concealing her face in shadows.
I doubled over and coughed violently. My throat was bruised and raw, and a whistle accompanied each breath. She’d fucked me up pretty badly. I’d be lucky to swallow anything tomorrow.
Leid was still and silent, almost catatonic. I watched her silhouette from the bed, icy tingles of confusion and fear plummeting down my spine.
“Leid?” I rasped.
Nothing. Just the soft rattle of her breath.
I crawled to the edge of the bed, peering over it. I didn’t call to her again, only watched and waited, though not entirely sure what I was waiting for.
And then her body jolted like she’d been roused from a nightmare, and her head shot up and she looked at me. Shock, confusion.
“Q-Qaira?” Leid stammered. “What happened? How did I …” She looked around her. “How am I here?”
I said nothing, staring.
“Answer me,” she begged, seeing the reprehension in my eyes. “What did I do? What did I do to you?”
Something was wrong with my wife. Something had been wrong with her for a long, long time. It wasn’t something that I could fix, either. That I knew. Her problem was as alien as her, and only another scholar would have any answers.
“What’s wrong with you?” I said. “Why does this keep happening?”
Leid looked away, shivering. “I don’t know. I don’t.”
“You’re going to call that a panic attack?”
“I’m sorry. I… I don’t know why it happens. I don’t know anything.” She held her face, fighting tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Leid kept repeating that until I felt guilty for being afraid. I scooped her up and held her, shhing into her ear.
“Did I hurt you?” she whispered.
“No,” I lied. She didn’t need to know what she’d done. That wouldn’t help anything. Leid would probably see the bruising on my neck tomorrow, but right now I didn’t want to talk about it.
We curled into bed and I held her until she fell asleep.
I stayed awake all night, wondering what any of this meant.
VI
STRINGS, TIGHT
“THIS WILL BE THE DIAGNOSTICS AREA, AND the large room on your left will be the patient-living quarters.”
Yahweh was pointing in two places at once, while Leid and I tried to follow him to no avail.
He had found a name for the malay-like drug—Axium—and all of its safety tests had passed. They’d fed doses of Axium to a dozen different animals over the course of a few weeks, and none of them had shown any harmful side-effects. Aside from being stoned.
We had arrived at the Plexus an hour ago. It straddled the border between Moritoria and Heaven—the angels’ two-layer territory.
The Plexus was an enormous glass sphere that floated atop the Areva Sea, The Atrium’s largest body of freshwater. The few times that I’d been here, I marveled at it from the window as our craft approached the tunnel port. The top of the structure reflected the sky, and the bottom reflected the water. It took on a two-tone iridescence, like a beacon against Moritoria’s bleakness.
The Plexus’ interior was blinding. Everything was white—walls, furniture, even the scientists’ uniforms. Spending more than two hours here always gave me a skull-splitting migraine. This time I brought sunglasses.
The new wing was nearly complete, and Yahweh had scheduled to show us around and discuss the possibility of an Axium clinical trial. It was strange that he held such enthusiasm toward helping a city that had otherwise shu
nned his people, but then again Yahweh didn’t operate on charity. He operated on work—title, claim, greatness. If malay was cured, he would take the credit. Just another achievement to stuff under his child-size belt.
Yahweh reached into a folder and retrieved a document. He handed it to Leid. “Here is the procedure for the trials. We’re going to need at least one hundred and fifty addicts. Seventy-five for the experimental group, seventy-five for the control.”
I had a hard time believing that any Nehelian would volunteer to play lab rat for a group of angels.
“Looks sound,” said Leid, glancing over the procedure.
Yahweh beamed. Seldom did she give him a perfect score. “The next step is gathering our test subjects. I would recommend a televised advertisement.”
“I have a better idea,” I said, recalling Ara’s complaints at dinner. “There are over five hundred Nehelians awaiting trial at Perula’s Peak for malay possession. I can have Ara offer to drop their charges if they agree to participate in your clinical trial.”
Yahweh looked at me as if I’d just solved the mysteries of the universe. “That’s… a wonderful idea.”
“You’re acting like I never have any good ideas.”
He gave me a nervous laugh and changed the subject. “I’ll let Commander Raith know that we’ve been cleared to proceed. When do you think you’ll talk to your brother?”
“Later today. I’ll call you and let you know what he says.”
“Perfect.”
“Are we done here? I have another appointment in an hour and I haven’t eaten lunch yet.”
“I can’t think of anything else. I’ll call the driver and let him know that you’re ready to leave.”
Yahweh nodded to both of us and headed for his office. As Leid and I made our way to the port, I remembered something.
“There’s something I forgot to ask him,” I said. “Can you run ahead and wait with the driver so he doesn’t think we’re lost?”
The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy Page 50