Accidental Demon Slayers: Elves of Darkness pt. 2 of 4

It was as he was walking down the hallway towards his apartment that Kurt got the first rush of an odd feeling.  He couldn’t exactly explain what it was, but it was enough to make him pause.  Something was… off. 

He stood still for a minute, waiting for Doctore to respond, to analyze the wave of darkness that seemed to rush down the hall towards him.

“Got anything?” He thought, remembering not to speak his conversations with Doctore out loud.

“Nothing clear,” the crinkly, old voice responded.  “Just give me a minute.  I’m feeling just a bit out of practice here.”

It had been a while since Kurt had been in the field. Even during the last few cases he had done mostly research, leaving the actual fighting up to the rest of the Demon Slayers. After Felicia’s death, he had pretty much stayed in the office completely.  Kurt was no slouch in the field, and Doctore had his strengths, but the both of them had figured that they could do more helping Ashtyn and Tabitha with their research than they could trying to wield weapons against tentacle demons and murderous witches.

“You okay?” a voice broke Kurt’s concentration.

He turned to see Chris, the guy in the apartment across from the one he shared with Bobby, standing behind him. The building was a four unit, and Kurt and Bobby resided in the top right apartment, while Chris had unit three. Mrs. Whip had apartment two, while two college students, Shannon and Amy, resided in apartment one.

Chris was young, with tired eyes, messy hair and a pair of bulky headphones permanently around his neck. His thin, green hoodie seemed dreadfully inadequate against the growing cold outside, and his jeans were tattered enough to look like an invitation for frost bite.

“Yeah.” Kurt thought quickly, trying to find a reason for his sudden stop in the hallway. “I was just trying to remember if I forgot anything.  You know, holiday season overload can kind of lead to forgetfulness.”

“Got it.” Chris smiled.

“You doing anything special for the holidays?” Unlike Mrs. Whip, Kurt actually enjoyed talking to Chris.

“Probably going to head back to Michigan to see my folks.” Chris shoved his hands in his pockets. “You?”

“Celebrating with a few friends. If you end up sticking around, you should stop over.” Kurt adjusted the groceries that crowded his now tired arms. “Our friends are a little eccentric, but we can be a fun bunch.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Chris smiled, pulling his keys from his pocket. “I should get inside.  Got some mixes to finish up before the party down at the Youth Center.”

They exchanged friendly goodbyes then both headed into their apartments.

Once inside Kurt was greeted by the site of a kitchen table stacked with various weapons, wrapping paper, and bows.  The contrast between the sharp blades and glinting throwing daggers, and the cheery, red and green Christmas paper was almost funny.  That seemed to be what his life had become.  He and Bobby had created a nice life together.  Demons aside, one would could even call it completely normal, except for the random artifacts of their demon hunting. While most couples had bookshelves that were loaded with family albums and favorite authors, theirs also included several giant volumes on demonology, ancient weapons and the occasional Idiots Guide to Exorcism.  It had taken some getting use to, but by now, after how many years together, it felt right. 

Bobby looked up from the table, his eyes narrowed in frustration. “I need help.”

He held up three throwing daggers, tatters of ripped wrapping paper clinging to the onyx blades. Kurt glanced around the table, and could tell that the wrapping struggle was reaching epic proportions.

“Throwing daggers and stars should go in gift bags.  Just pad them with a little tissue paper.” He headed towards the kitchen, quickly putting the groceries down on the counter. 

“What about a machete?” Bobby called out from the table, and Kurt glanced over his shoulder to see Bobby lifting the massive, glinting blade over his head. “Gift bag, or wrapping paper?”

-*-

Mrs. Whip sat in the same, worn out recliner that she always did, her little TV switched on, but muted.  She had a mug in one hand, and the other was clutching the remote.  This was her natural state.  This was how she spent most of her time, and she was fine with that.  She didn’t feel the need to get out and socialize, or make appearances.  Who would care if she did?  If she didn’t give a flying fuck, then why would others?

It didn’t help that, as she grew older, she had found that she completely and totally hated the rest of humanity.  People just pissed her off to no end.  They didn’t even have to do anything more than existing to make her angry. 

She took a sip of her cooling coffee, and for the first time that day, she smiled.  The brew was as bitter as she was, just how she liked it. 

Voices came from the hallway, disrupting her brief moment of pleasure.

“I’m just saying, we should try and do Christmas here.” It was the voice of one of her neighbors.  One of the college girls… Amy.  She was the loud one.  “Why spend all that money on flying back home.  Our families would understand.  I mean, we are being responsible.”

“No way.” Shannon was speaking now. “My parents already think you’re my girlfriend. Spending the holidays together would just feed into that delusion.”

“It’s not my fault your parents are homophobic.”

“They aren’t, though! I think they secretly want me to be dating you.”

Mrs. Whip couldn’t take the inane chattering any longer and pushed out of her chair, rushing towards her front door.  It was bad enough that she had the two faggots and the deadbeat musician upstairs, now she had these two half baked, collegiate sluts across the hall who wouldn’t shut the hell up.  

She threw open her door, her mug poised and ready for attack. 

Shannon was the first to spot her.  “Oh, hey Mrs. Whip.” The girl smiled at her. “Sorry if we were too loud.”

Mrs. Whip just glared, doing her best to give the two women burning death stares. It didn’t seem to work.  They both seemed completely oblivious to her growing anger and radiating hatred.  It threw her off balance, and she froze in place. 

Before she could complete her plan and pitch her still hot coffee in the faces of one of those annoying bitches the girls had already said their goodbyes and headed into their apartment.  It wasn’t until the door closed that Mrs. Whip finally snapped out of her stupor. 

Defeated, Mrs. Whip headed back into her apartment.  She would get those two.  Somehow she would get them.  With their young, fresh skin and perky tits. They were everything she hated about youth.  They were vibrant and pleasant. 

It made her sick. 

She stalked to her kitchen, placing her mug down on the counter.  She needed something stronger to calm her nerves.  Shuffling across the floor she headed towards her freezer, where she kept a bottle of vodka hidden behind her TV dinners. 

As she reached up to open the freezer door, she heard a small tinkling sound, like a small bell.  She stood still, listening closely.  She heard it again.  There were multiple bells this time.  She turned around, and noticed that her front door was slightly ajar. 

Cats. 

Somehow those damn cats that wandered the parking lot had gotten into her apartment.  Those two bimbos probably let them in.

“Fucking half wits,” she mumbled under her breath.  She turned, stomping towards the door. 

Before she had even gone two steps she felt a sharp pain in her right ankle, and then quickly, her left.  Her legs felt weak, unable to support her, and she fell forward, her face making a cracking sound as it smashed into the hard tile floor of the kitchen. 

She howled in pain, rolling onto her back.  She could feel a sticky warmth pooling around her feet, and she sat up slightly.  Something had sliced the tendons right through on both of her ankles.

She tried to scream again, but before she could get the sound out of her mouth, she was swarmed.  Little creatures with pointed ears, long noses and glittering eyes were crawling all over her.  Their small, clawed fingers ripped at her flesh, and their pointed teeth gnawed at the wrinkled folds of her paper thin skin. 

She opened her mouth, tried to call out, but one of the little elven creatures grabbed her tongue and yanked.  She could feel the muscle begin to rip in the back of her throat, blood pouring out and blocking her airway.  Her scream dissolved into a frantic gurgle. 

“Mrs. Whip?” It was Amy.  “Mrs. Whip are you okay? I thought I heard a scream.” The young woman peaked her head through the cracked open front door. 

Mrs. Whip rolled onto her belly, crushing a few of the small creatures under her considerable bulk.  She looked up, and could see the terror in Amy’s eyes. 

Mrs. Whip reached out, her blood slicked hand clutching for the young woman’s aid. “Please, help me.” The words were clear in her mind, but with her tongue dangling by only a few fibers, they came out as nothing more than blood dripping moans.

What were these things? Their visage was so familiar that the word came to her mind almost instantly.  Elves.  She was being ripped apart by elves.

“Mrs. Whip!” Amy shrieked.

One of the little elves had managed to dig its claws into the flesh of the old woman’s neck. 

Too late, she thought to herself, just as the claws sliced through her neck, spilling the last of her blood out onto the floor in a massive geyser which managed to shoot out far enough to drench Amy. 

As the last bits of life left her body she could hear Amy, screaming, slam the door shut. 

-*-

Kurt and Bobby were both sitting at the table, staring down at the massive pile of weapons in front of them when they heard the screams.  Without even thinking they both sprang to their feet. 

They didn’t speak, they just both reached down, grabbing something off the table.  Kurt picked up the machete, its shining blade unsheathed, and Bobby grabbed the battle axe, a bow still affixed to its massive blade.

“I probably should have mentioned this when I came in, but I got a really weird feeling out in the hallway.” Kurt slowly crept towards the front door.

“Would have been nice to have had a heads up.” Bobby followed close behind. 

Bobby reached out, opening the door, and stepped into the hallway first, Kurt right behind him. They glanced from side to side. Chris peaked out of his apartment.

“What the hell is going…” the words died on Chris’s lips when he saw the weapons clutched in his neighbors hands.

“Go to our place, and don’t let anyone in until we get back, okay?”

His eyes still locked on the weapons, Chris nodded and ran across the hall, closing the door to their apartment without any argument. 

The two men inched towards the stairs, both of them trying to keep focused on their surroundings while also reaching into their minds, trying to get any info from their inner deities as they could.  Their concentration was quickly broken, however, when a blood soaked woman stumbled into the stairwell. 

She looked up at them.  The only clean skin on her entire body was the streaks on her cheeks from the tears spilling from her eyes. 

“Help me,” she wailed.