sanctuary | on hold indefinitely

twenty-one | rage

Farah eyed the woman again, moving closer to her with a scrutinising gaze. He was right: she hadn't noticed it before, but she could make out her pale grey eyes now, ringed by purple bags born from years of talking to ghosts. Other than that, she was pretty, though older than Farah had initially thought, with her brown hair cascading over her chunky scarf and her lips painted a deep plum colour. Her gloved hand clutched a coffee flask.

"Is now really the time, Filix?" Farah sighed, watching as the Necromancer stepped back and collided with the hood of her car. "We have more pressing matters to attend to."

He turned to Farah, his expression cold as stone as he muttered, "Would you rather me take my anger out on you, love?"

She noticed only now how his body shook as he turned his attention back to the woman, a strained smirk playing on his lips. His knuckles clenched, discoloured from the punches he had thrown at the Protector. She had seen him hungry for a fight, for blood, plenty of times, but she had never seen him brimming with rage as he was now, like water bubbling in a hot pan. She took a step back from him subconsciously, then another, and waited for the boil.

"Please," the Necromancer pleaded, her voice trembling in fear. "You don't need to harm me. I'm not your enemy."

"Actually," Filix muttered, sliding between the Necromancer's car and the one parked next to it so that she was cornered, "of all of your kind, Necromancer's are my least favourite. It's your unlucky day, love."

"No," she mouthed, cowering into the concrete wall. Farah's heart raced with anticipation as she watched her squirm. "Don't. Please. My daughter ... she's in the car."

Farah tilted her head at that, stepping around the car until she reached the back seat on the opposite side of the woman and Filix. Sure enough, an infant with soft, rosy cheeks slept in the car seat, no older than one. Her tiny hands clutched a small teddy bear, the rest of her hidden beneath layers upon layers of crocheted blankets.

"It's true," Farah confirmed, her bones growing cold. "There's a baby in the backseat."

"And?" Filix questioned, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Farah. Farah pursed her lips, her eyes filled with question. They had targeted people before, but never like this. This was unplanned. This was happening with a child sitting in the middle of it. Filix's face was all she needed to know that he didn't care about that now, though. He was angry. He knew what he wanted and he would get it.

"I'm a mother," the Necromancer stammered. Her cheeks dampened with tears, her bottom lip trembling. "Please. I'm a mother."

"I don't much care for mothers." Without warning, Filix grasped the woman's arm, throwing her away from the car onto the concrete. Her flask clattered, the metal grinding against the road as she fell to the floor with a cry. He pinned her to the ground, his long fingers snaking around her neck as her sobs echoed through the lot.

"Why are you doing this?" The Necromancer writhed beneath his weight, looking desperately back at the car. Farah's heart pounded in her ears as she watched it unfold, half in awe and half in shock. She searched for joy, pleasure, on Filix's face, but found only an icy fury as his grip on the woman tightened.

"Because I can," he responded through gritted teeth, trapping her body with his knees to stop her from struggling.

Choked splutters erupted from the Necromancer as her face turned a dark purple, the veins in her neck straining as her body pleaded for air. "You're evil," she coughed out, her dainty fingers curling around Filix's as he squeezed. "Evil."

At her words, Filix's expression changed. A bright, hot wickedness flickered in his eyes as his upper lip curled in contempt. "Yes, mother," he hissed, his voice strained as he strangled the Necromancer harder, the muscles in his arms visible even through his black jacket, "I am. I am evil."

He punched her with so much force that her bones cracked, over and over until blood spattered the floor. Farah wondered if he would ever stop. Her features were no longer visible, concealed by bruises and a mass of black, matted hair. Farah realised only when the Necromancer stopped breathing, when her body limpened and her chest no longer rose and fell beneath Filix, that she had been holding her breath, too. She let it fall out of her now, sparing a final glance at the child in the car. She had not awoken in the chaos. She had been made an orphan in the matter of moments and she had slept through all of it.

Filix remained frozen over the body, his shoulders hunched beneath the leather of his jacket and his fists still balled and bloody. He hit her lifeless face again once more.

"She's gone, Filix." Farah stepped forward cautiously, putting a hand on his shoulder. She could feel his body heaving with heavy breaths only for a moment before he shook her off, standing up. His eyes were wild, dazed, as though he had forgotten where he was and what he was doing. For a moment he simply stared at Farah, unblinking, before turning his attention back to the body. His eyes darkened again and he kicked the Necromancer's leg in disgust.

"Let's get out of here, shall we?"

"The child," Farah interjected, gesturing at the locked car. She tried to hide the fear in her own voice.

Filix looked at her incredulously. "What, do you want to adopt it, love? Take in the child of the mother we just murdered?"

"We can't just leave her in a locked car, Filix," she whispered.

"Who can't?" He shrugged, throwing the car keys at Farah. She caught them only just, frowning as Filix began to walk away without a second glance. Sighing, she dropped the keys, shaking her head as she began to follow.

Filix's Range Rover was only parked on the next row down. He was already climbing into the driver's seat and turning the key as she slid into the opposite side.

"What was that, Filix?" she asked after a moment of him trying, with great determination, to find a radio station that wasn't interrupted by white noise.

"What was what?"

"You beat her to death. You called her mother."

"She was Necro scum," he replied matter-of-factly, pulling out of his parking space and driving towards the exit. Farah couldn't help but look as they passed the woman's body lying in a pool of her own blood, unidentifiable now that her face had been mutilated and her clothes soiled. She was surprised when Filix went through the effort of avoiding her, swerving so that she wasn't crushed by his tires—as if it would make any difference now. "She got what she deserved."

"You lost control."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles raw and bloody. "I knew exactly what I was doing, love. Besides, I was giving you a crash course."

"On how to randomly beat a woman to death in the middle of a public car park?" She arched an eyebrow.

"On how to kill without letting your emotions cloud your judgement," he responded coldly. "You wanted me to stop because of the child."

"I didn't tell you to stop," she argued. "You surprised me, is all. You were ... angry. Brutal."

"I had some steam I needed to let off. I seized the opportunity while I had it. When we reach your father, you will do the same."

She froze as they came out onto the open road, narrowly avoiding another car as Filix turned out abruptly. "What are you saying? You want me to beat my father to a pulp?"

"Is that an issue, Miss Lee?" He smirked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as though he knew the answer already.

"I ... I suppose not," she swallowed, settling back into her seat and gazing outside. The rain had started to come down again, the sky as unsettlingly grey as the car park elevator had been.

"Good," Filix nodded with an air of finality, "because like your sister, your father is a traitor. Once he has given us the information we need, we no longer have any use for him. No sense in letting him continue hiding."

"So you're going to kill him?"

Filix let out an ominous laugh as they rounded a corner, his eyes following the road steadily.

"Oh, no, love," he grinned, his white teeth gleaming against the mid-afternoon light. "You're going to kill him. I'm going to watch."