Generis

18. Blood, Water And Magic

"I could blow your brains out," Zeilat snarled, shoving the muzzle of the gun to Nisab's mouth, almost shaking with rage, "I could blast open your face right now. Yeah.... I should do that, shouldn't I? And watch you bleed out like the pathetic bitch you are."

Nisab stayed silent, keeping her gaze fixed on his deep-set, purple eyes as he continued, shoving the gun deeper down her throat, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pull the trigger, Nisab. Just one reason. That's all I ask. Because as it stands now, you won't see the sunrise. Blood and water look the same at night, you know."

She raised an eyebrow; how was she going to speak with potential death at her lips? She could taste the metallic body of the weapon, a mistake away from leaving her sleeping with a hole through her face. Zeilat eyed her up and down before muttering coldly, pulling back the gun and dropping it on the concrete stairs, sitting next to it and shoving his hand in his pockets. He took out a cigarette, lit the end with the tip of his finger, and leaned back against the door frame with his eyes closed, inhaling deeply and puffing out circles of smoke to entertain himself. He liked watching them form a perfect ring for a wavering second, before they dissipated into the air.

"You know smoking is bad for you, sir."

Before she could blink, he swiped the gun from the floor, aimed it and blasted a shot at her forehead, watching it shoot out the back of her head and dent the wall behind. He eyed her body as it collapsed to the floor, bleeding out in a crimson pool under her head, staining her pale green hair red with sticky blood. Her eyes were rolled back and her mouth was hanging slightly open in a disgustingly aesthetic fashion.

"Stupid bastard," He muttered, taking his gaze off her body and closing back his eyes. There was a lot on his mind; he didn't know how to calm himself down. She had been tugging on his last nerve, and he was already mad enough as it was. He soaked in the sweet silence for a long time, enjoying the sounds of his own breathing as the smoke began to fog up the dark ceiling that was patterned with engraved designs of history. He spat the used cigarette to the floor, before opening his eyes and grinding it under his heel. He picked up the gun, putting it in his holster and staring blankly at the corpse, as if he forgot why it was here in the first place.

I should really sort that out. Don't want it stinking up the place.

He stood up and stalked over to her, his boots splashing more blood in her lifeless face. He kicked the body, watching it roll onto its side, unamused. A wisp of purple-red mist seeped from his finger, before it thickened and hurtled towards the body, encasing it in a tomb of coloured smoke. He kept his hands behind his back, whistling while the mist soaked up the blood, sealed up the wound in her head, and channeled a new wave of life into the body. A moment of silence passed before her eyes shot open and she gasped, sitting up suddenly.

"Yeah. How was the trip, Nisab? Did you like the taste of death? I didn't think so." He smirked, eyeing her, before facing away from her and walking over to an empty chair. He sank into it, fiddling with a new cigarette, keeping his gaze on her. He watched where her eyes went, and gestured to the cigar.

"Want a smoke?"

She shook her head.

He shrugged, aimlessly throwing it away, "You do you, I guess. But don't you ever dare tell me the damn pros and cons of smoking, got that?"

"I see why she ran."

"Shut up. You're really testing my patience today, and I am not in the mood to entertain your shit, okay?"

"If you're so concerned about it, go and find her. She couldn't have gotten far on an island." She shrugged, talking to Zeilat as if he didn't just prove that he could end her life without thinking twice.