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A gentle touch swayed by the rough of his edges, sharp nails digging into his skin as the room fell silent. If his heart wasn’t thumping loud enough in his ears, Montague would have heard the distant rumbling off the coastlines. His palms were bleeding now, using his finger to rub the open wound with a delicate motion. Like she used to. A scoff blew from his chapped lips, as he ran his tongue over the edges, glancing between the chairs around the table, then toward the television hung against the wall. Whatever Valeria had done he knew it wasn’t good, for the future of the Society nor himself. Not that he was feeling particularly selfish at this moment, but he certainly deserved to feel a little hurt.
Nisha was standing by her chair, pacing every so often with her mask resting against her hip. He’d never seen her this worried before, not since a few days prior when she came to the hotel after the field burned in a horrific display of vengeance. Karma was on her way, and she had no intentions of stopping at Nisha. He began laughing to himself at the thought.
Montague sat up, pushing out from the table and excusing himself from the remaining members. They didn’t reply. His ideals, his dreams, his power was slipping between thorny fingers; a single prick enough to hurt anyone around him. The foyer was quiet, among the faint music playing from the broken speakers and his weak steps as his gaze shifted to the ceiling. Spinning over and over, her arms around his waist as they twirled under the crystal chandelier, bedazzled by kaleidoscopic colours of prismatic glass as the world stopped around them. A gorgeous smile deceived his impressions of Valeria now.
The chandelier crunched beneath his dress shoe as he walked through the foyer, everything falling around him as he picked up one of the broken shards. The mosaic crumbling with each step. It was over. Whether he wanted it to be or not, Hope made that clear. Everytime he fell forward for Valeria, she seemed to fall further back until she was gone, only an image of fire and infernal blaze stood in her path. It was never for them. He was a selfish man. The malicious veil of care the Society provided was thrown under the rug when Hope brought hell to his home, corrupting everyone around them into believing he was wrong.
Perhaps he was.
The front door to the hotel slipped between his hands, as the handle clattered to the ground, as he just shoved it enough to slip through and stand outside. His coat flapped in the winds of the mountains, curling around his body in a horrific feeling of comfort as it held his taut muscles in a cold embrace. Blood adorned the floor, handprints dragged toward the door before disappearing. Screams echoed through the halls, the static burning his mind, slicing through his thoughts as he shook his head and stared off into the distance. The station wasn’t far from here.
He could visit quickly, unnoticed. She wouldn’t be there.
Valeria’s gone, he had to keep reminding himself the moment the hand rose from the ground, she was gone, just like her responsibilities. Which all fell onto him now. The Society didn’t matter to him anymore, to hell with it all if he could get her back just to say bye at least. Even just a hug. Montague sat on the railing, staring at the setting sun, the gorgeous red and pink hues burning through the skies, touching the distant horizon with grace. Her observatory glowed in the dusk, a lighthouse to his vessel. Yet the light wasn’t bright enough for him. His constellation burned out and her telescope lowered; leaving him to burn in her ambitions.
A hand pressed against his shoulder, comforting him with a soft touch.
“It’ll work out mate, give it time.” Oscar said quietly, sitting beside him.
“I’ve given it time. I’ve given everything to this.”
Oscar laughed, his tail flitting against Montague’s coat every so often.
“You gotta realise she’s doing her own thing, she’ll come back.”
He was humouring Montague. Definitely. His doubts clouded the reality of the situation. It was over. His hotel had been ransacked, torn apart when Hope and Jonesy confronted him the other day, his guards all missing. He was strong, and he had power. His stupidity got in the way once and it wouldn’t happen again. He will return stronger, by her side with the intention of reclaiming everything lost by the Underground.
“What do you plan on doing?” Montague asked, his attention shifting to Oscar.
“I’ll go back home, make the most of what we got ‘til that chain snaps.”
The box.
Valeria’s doing again. He listened to her on many nights explain its importance, how imperative it was to find, though his understanding of why never seemed to click. He found her in a manner of all places at her desk, resting against a stack of papers and research notes, heavy eyes. He’d scan over the notes, then pull his coat off to wrap over her shoulders before falling asleep just outside her office on the sofa waiting. Waiting for a promise that was merely a broken record, scratching against the needle as a faulty tune played in reverse, they danced round and round again until they became strangers.
Montague’s thoughts were reeled out by a distant rumbling, his eyes widening at the view beyond the train station.
“She did it.”
“Seems so.” Nisha replied from behind, her mask muffling her voice as they all stared at the sudden wisp of flames erupting into a hellish vortex.
His hands tightened their grip on the railing, feeling the quakes from the mountains weren't right at all. He’d already noticed the increased amount of avalanches, the ice melting with each passing day. It wouldn’t be long until the hotel fell with it all. The flash of light that came from the box spread across the island, sinking the setting sun under the ocean as it warped with the blink of an eye. The mountains past the ruins Valeria took him to crumble under a sickly green hue, as a dark shadow overcast the hotel. He rose from the fence, a hand over his eyes to stare at the new building that had descended to the East of him.
The statue glimmered under a divine light, a sword laid between two tight palms as it was concealed in the bright marble it was made of. Montague glanced between the two beside him as the flames dispersed, leaving the island in silence. He almost felt compelled to challenge what appeared, to see what the box wrought upon them. He knew it wasn’t good. Valeria’s notes said that.
So why did she insist on opening it?
A crack of thunder resounded and the pruned garden before him burnt under a bright blue flash. A man stood in its wake, his head tilted up at the three as they stared back warily.
“The end of this prophecy will start with you.”
Montague’s expression shifted, as he turned to Oscar who already had his paws resting on his belt. This guy was encroaching on his property, destroying the gardens he spent hours walking through with Valeria, listening to her stories and theories. It all crumbled under this man’s power. The three of them raced toward him, his hand gripping the amulet around his neck, his hand stiffening in its hold as the diamonds scaled his skin and spread up his arm. His fist was raised, ready to strike him.
Another crack of blue shot past his eyes as he was thrown back into the wall. His back screamed in anguish, as he watched Oscar skid across the snow, this man wanted them dead. He wanted them gone. It was truly over. He got up and dashed forth again, his body encased in the enigmatic blue diamonds, drawing the two pistols from his back and suppressing fire at the man. In the blind fury, Montague hadn’t noticed the bullets did nothing, his power a mere caricature of his former self. The diamonds shattered with a strike of lightning, the amulet broken on the floor as he tumbled into the snow, shaking and whining at the wound in his chest.
Valeria would think of him as weak if she saw him now. He flipped onto his back, sinking into the snow. She stood over him, a hand on her hips.
“Come on Monty, let’s try again hmm?”
Her hand grazed against his cheek, as she crouched above him now, her smirk drawn poorly.
“I can’t.” He rasped.
Her hands cupped around his face, leaning in to kiss him as a blur of blue lightning gathered behind her figure. Her lips graced his own, her lipstick, her tenderness, her sweet hum she did every time she moved in to hold Montague. He reached out for her, to hold her head and return the kiss but felt himself sink deeper into the misery as the snow melted around his limp body, surrounded by bloodshed and terror. The man was floating above the ground not far from his position, his attention on a figure with a pair of wings.
With a few words they were gone. Gods were real. Val had called upon Gods?
Oscar and Nisha were nowhere to be seen, as he pulled himself to his knees, hands clawing down his face in disrepair. The winner lost it all. A God to strike him down at his weakest, how selfishly vain. He was insignificant in this moment, a mere character in a blip of time that will be forgotten. He’s nothing without her but she’s everything all at once. Montague’s hands fell to his lap, as he brushed his elbow to a bleeding nose, sniffling as he looked back at the mountains. Maybe she was out there, ascending with the Gods.
She told him that his idea was a bit far-fetched, that the Society wasn’t needed but she still watched him try and succeed. She rewarded his success with a dance he’d never forget, endless nights of brilliant stories and folklore. It should have been clear from the start that she had her own intentions, but it was too late when he realised. Not that he cared, he would’ve funded the research if she hadn’t insisted on being so secretive.
The snow around his body began to melt, soaking into his trousers. A splatter of red mixed in. Her eyes imbued in his mind. The sharp nails clicked against a glass, gently swirling the wine. He watched her from his seat at the table, as she laughed beside Nisha trying the new wine she brought from the fields. Montague hadn’t touched his drink yet. Valeria’s eyes were intoxicating enough. Whenever her gaze shifted to his, he struggled to keep himself straight, pulling away and staring at the painting on the ceiling. Then a small laugh.
After that meeting he took her up to the roof, his hands gently cupped behind her as they climbed up the fence, sitting on a blanket he’d taken from one of the guest rooms. His mind was racing, as his words came out like heavy traffic, explaining anything other than his feelings.
“-and I just truly believe if we add a train station closer to Hazy, we may just profit much more from the transport.”
“Where would we find the supplies for that dear?”
Montague froze when she said that. He could find supplies easily, but, dear? He felt his body melt.
“I love you so much.”
Montague scoffed at the memory as he pulled himself through the supply closet, knocking bottles over as he grabbed a bandage, stuffing it into his pocket. He descended into the vault, staring at the cold fireplace.
His shirt and waistcoat were stained with blood now, as he licked his lips in silence, pulling on the weapon case latch to close it, running a hand over the top. He’d kill for just one more day with everyone.
He pulled his overcoat off, draping it over the sofa as he sat down. Unbuttoning his waistcoat, he leant back taking in a sharp breath, his hand feeling over the wound Zeus inflicted. He counted himself lucky the lightning cauterised most of it. His eyes burned in pain as he tried to peel his shirt off, biting his lip with a groan. All Montague could hear were car engines and the faint music from upstairs again, before closing his eyes.