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There was someone else here.
Someone else was stalking his prey.
He curled his lip and snarled silently. Goddammit, Phantom was the biggest, scariest demon in the darkness, no one else would usurp him. No one else was going to hunt on his territory. He edged away from the shed, and crouched low into a flower bed full of purple petunias. He was the dominant demon, and he was going to bring another soul into hell tonight.
His pulse quickened. He opened his eyes, his pupils dilated with the buzz of it. This was what had been missing. Anger. A sense of wanting to do violence. Yes, he felt it scorch his blood now. He listened.
There.
At the bottom of the garden. In the evening gloom, a man wearing all black.
Phantom knew. He could recognize them a mile off. The way they moved, their clothes. He could smell them. Demonios fuckers.
Why the fuck were they here? Trying to kill one of their own?
He couldn’t make sense of it. His mind spiraled out. Killing one of their own. Like he had done, with his parents, with his Demonios former brothers. How he had been scared to do that to Sophie. Sophie flashed in front of his eyes. Colt and his brothers. His former family, his Demonios family. Her. The woman who had enslaved him. His parents. His actual real parents. Reduced to his eight year old self in the space of a heart beat. As the ghosts of his past swam through his soul.
Air filled his lungs. He heard only his breath. His heart. He snapped back into the present day. Into his body. Into his mind. Someone was going to die tonight. He would be the Phantom in the darkness one more time.
He knew what he must do. He saw it in his mind, like he always did. Almost like it had been done before, and he was merely acting it out. His hand gripped the knife then. Loosely, his wrist poised. His fingers on the cold metal held it lightly. Almost tenderly. With respect. His wrist, like a coiled cobra, such strength but so still, waiting. He breathed out, looked to his target and…
He threw the knife. It whistled through the air.
“Surprise!” Came a shout from behind. The outside lights slammed on.
Phantom jumped. The kid jumped.
People sprang through the patio doors, carrying balloons, a giant cake with flickering candles was carried in by an older woman, beaming with pride. A man, the dad, clearly, followed up filming on a digital camera, looking on proudly. Some kids, the same age as Phantom’s target, trailing out, pulling party poppers and whooping. Each pop was like a gunshot to Phantom, who stood, now completely exposed in the flower bed of the garden, sickness swirling around him.
“Fuck, you guys threw a surprise party for me?” The kid said, beaming now, too, gazing about at the birthday paraphernalia being paraded in front of him by everyone. Standing up from the skateboard on the deck.
“Language, Max!” The older woman said. Phantom felt ice in his veins. Eyes sparkling, but salt and pepper hair in a bob.
Phantom almost didn’t understand. He couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. This is what family looked like. This is what love looked like. He had had this once.
And then, the floor dropped out from beneath him.
It was the sight of who had walked through the door last. The woman, carrying the tray full of ice creams. His woman. His Sugar Plum Fairy. Sophie.
Phantom’s last target. Max. It was her little brother. Bile rose in his throat. Realization ravaged his bones.
People turned to stare at him.
“Max, who is your new friend here?”
“I don’t know him-”
“Phantom?” Sophie smiled in disbelief. He wanted to shake his head. He wanted to howl a long, loud ‘Nooooo’. He frowned and tried not to die inside as he looked at her. Regret heavy in his eyes.
“How come you’re here? I mean, I told you I was coming home but I didn’t think you’d… Colt said you were working-” She garbled.
“He’s your friend, Sophie?” Her Dad asked now, peering over, interested.
“Oh cool, he’s got throwing knives! Are you a ninja?”
Sophie turned, frowning, confused. “He’s… Phantom.”
“What’s that, honey?” Sophie’s mom said vaguely, caught up with distributing paper plates.
