Help Us, Slayer

The Slayer sat on the marble counter in the kitchen, staring off into the distance, tapping the side of the high-ball glass. The ice inside had virtually all dissolved into the whiskey that they were too young to drink.

The house – that was not their own – was empty, the owners leaving hours ago to give The Slayer their space. Remaining where they’d left them, The Slayer sat on the countertop, back against the cupboards in the sleek, modernised kitchen, still dressed in the blood splattered clothing from the early afternoon.

It was dark now. Night had engulfed the forest terrain outside the isolated home, the same way darkened thoughts submerged The Slayer’s mind. The blood was not their own; the blood was their friends, a fatality that should never have happened.

Suddenly feeling a gentle breeze on their bare feet, it occurred to The Slayer’s senses that they were no longer alone. Reaching to their side, picking up the half-drunk whiskey bottle and topping up their drink.

Hopping off the counter and strolling their way out the kitchen, they peered down the long, white hallway. At the other end of the dimed hallway was a flickering light coming from the lounge. Steadily making their way down the hall, The Slayer tried to pay no attention to the loving family portraits that hung on the wall; the house’s true occupants, a mother, father and three teenage boys, all gorgeous in that idyllic, suburban way.

The lounge was a large space that was made by knocking down an original wall. The flooring was a neat oak with a sunken flooring in the middle; the sunken flooring was outlined with sofas and a long coffee table in the middle. The room was twice as high as an average house with the wall on one side back-to-back bookshelves that went as high as the ceiling. The other side was glass, a pure open window seeing out into the forest.

The lounge lights were not on, but the fire within the mantlepiece was lit and roaring with flames higher than usual. In the far opposite corner of the sunk floor, sipping from a wine glass was a woman that looked just as underage as The Slayer.

“Joy,” The Slayer grumbled addressing her, taking another sip of their whiskey. “If you are here to start shit, please take the state of my ripped and bloody clothes as evidence as to why you should not start shit tonight.”

Joy twirled strand of her red coiled locks, parting her crimson lips to sigh ever so. Leaning forward, she placed the wine glass on the table and then outstretched her arms on the top of the sofas.

“I’m not sure how many times I have to repeat myself Slayer: I don’t care to search you out to torment you. Most of those moments where you believe me to show up to ruin your day, we are both there by sheer coincidence, as you’d call it.”

“As I’d call it?”

Joy cocked her eyebrow. “Yes, as you’d call it. You slayers don’t believe in the greater cosmos and It’s deeper dwelling like us witches do.”

“True,” The Slayer nodded, pursing their lips. “So, you trying to tell me the cosmos keeps bringing us together?”

“Yes.”

“Cosmos seems like a real bitch.”

“I want to agree considering how intolerable you are, but I suppose I must put faith in what holds greater power than I.”

“I take it the greater cosmos didn’t bring us together tonight?” Joy crossed her legs and sat up straight. The pair refused to shift their gaze from the other. Familiarity didn’t make them friends, when their species were born enemies.

“I’ve sort you out tonight.” The Slayer chuckled, breaking their gazes momentarily.

“A Witch has sort out a Slayer – are you here to kill me?”

“No.”

“Well now I’m intrigued.” The Slayer took some causal steps forward into the room. Moving closer, they could make out the velvet green top Joy wore and knowing her style, guessed there was a suitable matching skirt.

“We have a problem. One we can’t fix with magic. A Hell Demon.”

“Where the fuck did you get a Hell Demon?”

“We’re not sure, but it stumbled into our territory. We’ve managed to contain it, but with the full moon approaching we can’t hold it forever.”

“Full moon makes you Witches stronger.”

“A full moon makes almost every supernatural creature stronger you idiot; including the Hell Demon.”

“And you want me to do something about it?”

“You’re a Slayer.”

“I’m in training and also mourning.”

Joy stood; a look of sympathy splashed on her face. “I’m sorry about Alex.”

“The exit is whatever way you managed to enter.”

“You’ll come kill the Hell Demon.”

“And why would I do that? For a woman that isn’t even my friend, a woman that is a creature I should kill too.”

“Because” Joy made her way round the table, plopping herself gazing up through Babbie eyes. “It’s in your soul, engraved in your bones, like a genetic curse. I might be your enemy too, but there is a greater one that you can’t ignore just to be petty. Oh Slayer, Slayer, Slayer. I know I look as young as you, but I am three times as old, and I know this tale. I know it as it’s a tale as old as time: Help us Slayer, there’s a Monster and only you can kill it.”