The Eruption of Mountgomery

Chapter 28

"Me? Smug? Why?" Her storm grey eyes glittered mischievously, hardening like the steely overcast sky. Jennifer Haben's breath hitched, her eyes diverted everywhere, but Sky's gaze, however Sky's gaze seemed to find Haben's without much difficulty.

"Blaise is dead, Turner." Haben hissed out easily. The breathy response was almost serpentine in nature, however to deny the truth was fatal. Sky was determined to stick to her vow--stick to gain vengeance not for herself or Blaise--the woman manipulated her and denied her of the respect she deserved. The air thickened like a stew, but the atmospheric mixture would refused to enter Haben's lungs. With an acknowledging smirk, Sky shrugged and sauntered to close the door with her heel.

"I suppose you are correct, Haben. I suppose this is where the part where I monologue. However, I do not know what to say, because, like you, Blaise is simply dead to me. Oh Jennifer, I assure you she is alive, but you will never see her again. In fact, you will not escape this building with your life."

Sky smiled, allowing the air to stabilize. Why would she scorch her own reputation? Would she be no better than Blaise was, taking her anger out on the world? What benefit would that do her? Shaking her head, the panting head of the federal investigation bureau rose and harshly Haben whispered, "You knew and you did not take her alive?"

Sky rolled her eyes, her feet carrying her to the desk. Taking the chair in front of Haben, she folded her arms and laughed. The sound was like the whistling winter wind, short, harsh, and bitter. Sky leaned forward and locked eyes with the head of the agency. "Oh I knew, Haben. Just as you did--you knew that body did not belong to Blaise--in fact the body did not have the abuse that she sported before her "death". Blaise simply should have drowned, but Caleb Jones, under your watchful gaze allowed him the brutal beating he doled out to her. A pity, my boyfriend got to Jones first. However, this is not about Blaise--it is personal for me, but she has no bearing on why I am going to not let you escape alive."

The air thickened immensely, all the water vapor rapidly vanishing in her office. The temperature also seemed to drop significantly. Sky was not the raw power that Nero was, and she did not possess the explosive anger that Blaise wielded. Sure Blaise had trained her, but this anger that welled up within her was caused by the harm attempted upon her boyfriend. Nero, ignorant and still in denial, needed to see the clarity--the monstrosity that the mortal Jennifer Haben was. "Admit it--admit you used Nero for your own misplaced and selfish gains. You worked for the CIA--a classified shady sect aimed to learn what made people like Nero and me tick then exploit it in a way that tarnishes our reputation."

The silence enveloped the two, as the air crackled and popped. A flick of the match and the whole building would catch ablaze. However, it was too early. Too soon to kill Jennifer--the truth needed to escape her throat as her last few breathy words. It still baffled her--why would Blaise just willingly give the file that implicated Jennifer to her? Then it seemed to click. Blaise not only desired to close that sadistic chapter of her life, but yearned to watch it burn before her--without being the one to cause the destruction. Sky snickered as she rose from the chair. With a well-placed kick, Haben slid to the side. She hissed out in slight fury at how easy the tough FBI head submitted, perhaps it was based in self-preservation, or she accepted her fate, that justice would not elude her any longer, for it was blind--sinners and saints alike, are judged by justice. At this point, Sky was unaware that by implicating Blaise, she would inadvertently allow a small success and wriggle her way into the heart of Nero.

Nero was hers--not the Volcano Queen's at least not any longer. With that thought, she smirked and whispered, "I am offering you to admit your failures and continue living."

Haben breathed sharply, however, it came out as an asthmatic wheeze. Sky sighed--the mercy she used to possess obliterated. She was not surprised when blue eyes snapped shut. The air once again balanced itself only for a moment. She stepped out of the room, the air thickening to the point of the air harming herself. She drew the matches from her pocket and drew one out, igniting it and watching the resulting flame explode into a fiery bomb. It worked--of course it worked.

Sky worked quickly, her path waked by flickering ruby and clementine flames. Raising her hands upon her exit, the FBI agency was caked in shifting ice blue liquid--liquid oxygen which swirled and bent to her will. Drawing out one last match, she lit it and threw it into the building. The resulting explosion was enormous, shattering passersby' eardrums. Her plot was successfully in motion, she sauntered to her vehicle parked a few blocks away, a new determined glint in her eyes.  Was this enough to drive a wedge between them further? With a shrug, she revved the engine, she had a date with Nero and she intended on being punctual.

*************

I assure you it was not my fault! The FBI agency was nothing but charred remains, passersby glared at me warily. I knelt beside the remains of the building that gave me so much hatred and confusion. Who would dare implicate me? I flinched, my eyes gaining a dangerous crimson tint to them. With a renewed sense of burning hatred as though a thousand suns were bursting within me, I sauntered away from the building, away from my car toward his residence. I halted my movements for a moment and blinked. He wouldn't want to see me, would he? I hissed out, turning on my heel. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, the simmering rage growing. I could feel it bubble up within me and I knew I was going to burst. I knew the world would burn under my fingertips, but this is not what I had in mind! This was not subtle! This is not what I taught--her. Her. The wench! Subtlety was my art, was my talent when it came to cleanly eliminating people. If you do not have the body, you cannot charge the killer for any crime.

All the evidence would be circumstantial and nothing backed up by hard facts. DNA would not be available on the charred remains for Jennifer Haben or any of the other fifteen victims to this unnecessary crime. Was she always this reckless? Why would she kill Jennifer of all people? I shook my head, refusing to deal with this--I needed ways to circumvent another encounter with Turner, but as my luck would have it, it would seem she would follow me. Her presence would only serve as a bitter reminder of what I could have had. The water-like silk of the bandanna ran through my fingertips and my head snapped up to meet ice blue eyes. Nero was in the passenger's seat, a proud smile upon his lips. His eyes glittered,  but he turned to face me. That smile turned to nothing but a thin-lipped frown, and I raised an eyebrow.

Glad you're happy. Glad to see you forgetting me and that—no! Let him go! I mused gently. My hands tightened around the ball of silk within my pocket at her eyes and the smirk that was dancing upon her lips. I found myself left behind. It eats away at your psyche--you learn to cope with it, but nothing helps to soothe the gnawing pain. The pain ebbs and flows, it refuses to relent, refuses to simply vanish. I returned to my own car, glaring at the building I used to work in. It was still nothing but ashes and rubble. Crushed dreams, a way to escape the pain I endured, stolen from me. I slammed my fists upon the steering wheel, staring out over the hood of the car and watching as the waves of heat danced against the front of the car. At least he's happy. He'll forget me, just like she wanted. Even in death, Jennifer Haben would succeed. No. There was that nagging voice, that gnawing feeling accompanied by the sizzling of my blood. It begged me to kill her--to kill the person I trained, however, I couldn't.

I wouldn't! No. I would not succumb to years of hatred. I could not return to the life I knew--however, I knew that I needed proof--I yearned for evidence that Sky Turner was using Nero for her own gain rather than an innocent fling or relationship. I would gain the answers I was looking for. Upon arrival home, I opened the lid of my laptop and found the warm embrace of the life I once knew. The sheepdog yipped and as I rose from the chair to pour kibble into her bowl, a simple text came through.

Nero will forget you. He was always meant to forget you.