The Eruption of Mountgomery

Chapter 21

I hanged my past, shed the bandanna and sword after the third encounter—the eruption had given me the option to abandon everything I had once known. I intended to close that vengeful chapter of my life. I was nothing if not respectable, a woman to be feared and destructive—the eruption directly linked to that blackout—to Caleb Jones' death. I needed space—Nero knew that and for a time, I forgot and forgave him for that time. It had worked—in fact I found that I had truly desired him. However, that very night I chose to complete that chapter, was not caused by me—was indirectly linked to Nero's blackouts.

When I told him to meet me at a restaurant, the dining hall darkened, only illuminated by the flat screens that mutely ran on news stories on a constant loop and hanging florescent lightbulbs. Leaning back in the booth, I could sense an air about him—I could still sense that something was off even as he sauntered into the four star establishment, a plain navy blue suit clinging tightly to his slightly muscular build. He raised his hand and our server made their way towards us. The conversation was basic—the "how are you"s dropped at the door—I knew how he was, could sense some ill-feelings and apprehension toward me.

As soft almost murmur-like music of stringed instruments emanated floating above the uncomfortably warm atmosphere of the establishment, the conversation twisted roughly toward a different sort. There was no longer that gentle tone—the one I knew before that evening. There was no malice in his voice, however, something was just off. As the knife scraped—nearly scratching the porcelain plate, I noticed the olive-green hue swirl within the navy blue. To fight off the disdain, he raised an eyebrow curiously at me and harshly, he questioned me. "What?"

As though I had been slapped, I simply bowed my head, murmured a soft "nothing" and swirled the wine. I called over our server abruptly, requesting the check. He had simply raised an eyebrow as I gave him an offhanded remark of something came up. It was indeed a microscopic lie, but when he did not question the biting remark, I placed my card onto the table, paying liberally and we rose from the booth. There were no warning—no strong gusts of wind, no loud cracks of thunder. Meeting his eyes, I said, "Look at me." 

When he did, I bowed my head, smiling. "Jade, I am fine. Hey—" His finger hooked carefully under my chin, but just as our eyes locked, the air froze, rapidly—the entire temperature was dropping. The gentle rain turning to jagged sheets of ice. Seizing Nero's arm, I nearly dragged him toward a nearby awning. That crackle underneath my veins had not become a nagging feeling of fury or pain, but of a warning.

No. Don't—he has done NOTHING to harm you. Don't let it overtake you. The repetition of the word no radiated strongly with me and I closed my eyes. No! Stop. I will not. I cannot. I am not that anymore! I never wanted that! I didn't kill him—I knew exactly what I was doing, why I was doing it. No! I cannot return. The bandanna had been forgotten, that simmering rage growing. I had to—I had to let it reveal itself—it was demanding satisfaction. A curtain of fire surrounded the front of the awning, my back to the flames, but the fire seemed to wield a mind of its own, it flickered in tune with the ice, almost intermingling with it. Crimson eyes, now clashing harshly with navy blue were widening. I would always have the label—I would always be met with fear, with awe, with raw fascination and hatred. Deep down—this is what they wanted something to really fear, something to truly loathe. Someone misunderstood—no! I was a killer—with biting wit and a calm persona. However, the fire which spat from my fingertips in that moment, was scalding, the crackling within my veins overtook me, the flames circling tightly around me—around him. No. Fight it. Oh God, fight it!

Closing my eyes, once again, I swayed slightly forward and back. It was only when I felt his hands upon my upper arms. The scent of the ocean fluttered toward me, the scent warm. Upon opening my eyes, he had raised an eyebrow. Carefully though, he lowered his hands to his side. "Jade?" The words were barely above a whisper. "Are you alright? Do you need me to--?"