THE RELIC GUILD (and other stories) Updated regularly.

THE SKIN MECHANIC (part 4 of 6)

Max once told me that he was making a cloak of human skin a mile long, as a gift for the devil. Once, he said there was an exotic upholsterer in the Middle East who paid through the nose for human skin. Another time, he told me that it just tasted good with fries and a strawberry thick-shake. Take your pick, because whenever Max speaks he never says the same thing twice.

I'll tell you that it was a homeless man I found that night, and he thought I'd give him money in exchange for a blowjob. Maybe you found his body where I left it. Maybe he'd been chewed so badly by rats, you didn't realise what you discovered was the Skin Mechanic's . And I'll admit I should not have returned to the motel; that I should have left Mia behind and moved on. But I did return.     

It was nearly dawn when I got back. Mia lay on the bed, watching TV. Her lips were clamped tight, and she was scowling. She didn't look at me when she spoke with a flat voice.

"Where have you been?"

She wasn't expecting an answer.

Mia was naked, and her chest and stomach were flecked with blood. More had smeared and dried around her mouth and neck. 

The bathroom door was closed, but light spilled from the gap underneath. I stared silently at Mia for a long time, until eventually she took her eyes off the TV and glared at me.

"Fuck you!" she snapped. "What did you expect?"

Leaving Mia to the TV, I went into the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

Blood streaked the walls, the mirror and sink, and formed a puddle on the cracked tiles of the floor. There was no water in the bathtub, but there was a girl. Her hair was red, not natural, not strawberry or ginger, but bottle red. It covered her shoulders and chest. She wore blue jeans, tucked into knee high boots. A single ring pierced her nose. Her wrists and throat had been cut. Her jeans were wet, but not just with blood. There was a sour smell in the bathroom.

The girl in the bath was undeniably dead, but her eyes were open, alive, watching me as I sat on the toilet seat. And she was smiling. Her eyes were green.

"Hello, Skin," she said. Only, it wasn't her; it was Max speaking through her, playing games with me. "It's been a while since we spoke. Oh, I like your new friend, by the way. Mia, right? She's a wildcat. She likes to drug her victims."

My hands were sweating, shaking.

"What do you know about her?" Max asked, and I shrugged. "You've got to be careful, Skin. I've been watching her. I tell you, Mia's fucking mental! You've really pissed her off. She doesn't give a shit who she's killed here tonight. What if it's someone important?" The dead girl in the bath smiled again. "You should check for ID."

I shook my head.

"It's not a suggestion, you fuck-stick. Do it!"

Dead, green eyes watched with glee as I stood over the girl, and gingerly pulled a slim wallet from her jeans pocket. There was sixty-five pounds inside, a credit card, and a driver's licence. She was no one important, as Max damn well knew. I pocketed the cash, and dropped the wallet into the bath.

"I worry for you, Skin," Max said. "This Mia sits on your cock and you go all cross-eyed like you're drunk. You keep her around and you'll get clumsy. You keep her around and you'll get caught. Then you know what'll happen, right?"

I did, like I've always known. He made me feel sick.

Max sighed. "You're such a shithead. That bitch will get you thrown in a prison cell, and when they lock the door behind you, whose skin will you mark for me then?" Max sucked air over dead teeth. "Inevitably your own, and that's the truth of it."

I knelt before the toilet and threw up. 

Are you looking for a motive, a reason for doing what I do? Then understand this: Max is my parasite. Or maybe I'm his. There's no separation. I can't just run away from him. My entire life is a survival course because all Max really wants is me; and should the day ever arrive when I do not provide him with some other victim, he'll rip the skin from my body without hesitation. That's the nature of our relationship. And Max assures me my suffering won't end when I'm dead.

I had heaved and heaved into that toilet until my stomach was empty.

"Oh, grow some balls," Max said. "I'm trying to help you here, Skin."

There came a tentative knock at the bathroom door, and Mia's muffled voice said, "Who are you talking to in there?"

"Uh-oh, it's the missus," said Max. "Remember what I said, fuck-wit. Get rid of her, or I'll be taking your skin quicker than an Indian scalping a cowboy."   

Max's laugh became a sigh that faded to nothing, and the dead girl in the bathtub fell still and silent.

Mia's knocks were more urgent now. "What's going on?"

When I opened the door, Mia was dressed. I barged past her into the bedroom, and grabbed my few possessions.

"Are you okay?" she said, and that was the first time I heard weakness in Mia's voice.

"I'm leaving," I said, and quit the motel.

I would've done it then. If she hadn't chased after me, I would've left Mia behind. As it was, we ended up travelling on together.

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