The Skin Show (22 page)

“Not
all of them, but the majority, yes. Some they use as slaves, trading sexual
pleasures for anything they might need. Others they feed on gradually,
syphoning a bit of them at a time. Others they turn right away.”

“God…is
there no end?”

“Not
so funny now, is it?”

“Hey.
I said I was sorry.”

“Are
you ready to listen, again? I mean
really
listen.”

Karen
nodded.

“All
nymphs are devious, deceivers of men
and
women, tricking them into doing
what they want and taking from them what they desire. And this has been going
on under our noses for centuries. In this technological society we live in,
this sort of thing has become ridiculed and chocked off as fairy tales. We shut
our eyes to such foolishness. But the reality is, it’s happening,
always
happening.
Nymphs love sex, and the Skin Nymphs are the vilest of them all. That’s why
there’re Skin Shows, to conceal the true intentions of the nymphs, but to also
act as a bathhouse of sexual depravity. They’ll copulate with both sexes, but
it’s the woman’s skin they use and the man’s soul they feast on.”

“Feast
on?
While
they’re having sex, they…?”

Hoffman
nodded. “Exactly. They savor the feast, delighting in it with the man’s seed.
As his soul is syphoned out, it mixes with his seed in the womb of the nymph
and once the flesh is drained of its resources the new life incubates inside
the nymph for a very short cycle of only a few days. Then the nymphs give birth
to the imps.”

“No
fucking
way,” she growled. “You mean to tell me that those glowing things
used to be people?”

“They
used to be souls, but once they come in contact with the nymph, the soul becomes
contaminated and altered into…
that
. Even just one sexual encounter will
begin the change. Just like my son.”

An
image of Andy on stage with Victoria fluttered in her mind.

Just
one encounter…

And
he’d definitely had an encounter.

Before
she could ask Hoffman if the progression could be reversed, he was talking
again. “Then the creature goes to the immediate family and slaughters them. I’m
not sure
why
they do this, but I think it’s their way of completely slaying
the original soul.”

“Because
the soul will still live in their hearts?”

“Very
good. That’s exactly what I think, too. Remember how I told you I compare them
to ants?”

“Yes.”

“I
managed to swipe some primordial texts from a Skin Show in Virginia before I
burnt it down. It was written in blood on pages of skin in a language I couldn’t
translate, but the illustrations depicted a higher power of nymph and all the
other nymphs were scattered throughout many areas, worshipping this one. It was
arranged as a sort of family tree, showing the birth cycles of the imps and
this one nymph, the
queen,
birthed all the other nymphs. In the image…the
queen is lying with a man while her younglings participated in a demonic sort
of orgy.”

“My
god, yes, they were. When I woke up…they were sort of melting together into
this mass…”

“Yes.
That’s how the illustration depicts them, too. The queen selects a particular
mate, once a cycle—meaning once a month—and he impregnates her. She keeps him
until he can’t perform any longer. But, he has to come to her willingly. That’s
how it works with
all
the nymphs. They can deceive you into it, but it
has to be
your
choice.”

“Holy
shit.”

It
all clicked, realization pounding her. There was such a simple arrangement to
it, really. They’d used Danny to get to Andy, used Rosco to get to Danny.
Nicole must have been murdered by Danny…not the
real
Danny…and Rosco’s
closest family was Lou Manchu and his houseful of druggy thugs—they were dead,
too. All these people died just to get Andy to come to The Skin Show willingly.

And
she’d encouraged him to pursue it, even when he hadn’t wanted to.

It’s
my fault…

“She
picked Andy tonight…brought him up on stage and…”

Hoffman
nodded. “Then it’s already too late for him.”

“No!
I won’t accept that!”

“It
is what it is.”

“What
if the queen is killed…would the hold she has on him go away?”

“I
have no idea. I’ve never managed to kill a queen before. From what I can
gather, they’re the main source of nourishment, like a charger and the nymphs
and imps are the batteries that need to syphon their energy from. Each Skin
Show I’ve destroyed, the queen has managed to escape. The one you called
Victoria? I believe she came from Virginia and is the same one who took my son.”

“You
have to find out what happens if she’s killed...”

“The
imps will die without the queen, I’ve learned that. But what you want to know,
I don’t have the answer. If your friend has mated with the queen, then he’s
still alive for now, but weakened and sick. And they will come for you, no
matter where you go. They have your scent.”

“My
scent?”

“Yes.
You’re stuck in this, unless we kill the queen. They’ll want you since you know
about them, and especially since you’ve killed one of their own. Miles and I
will back you up. We’re going to allow them to take you, and while they’re
distracted with you, Miles and I will take care of them.”

“But…”

“And,
I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.” He made sure the jacket swayed open enough to
remind her of the gun he had there.

She
felt squirmy inside, seeing the gleaming chrome of its handle. Though Karen had
planned all along to help them in any way possible, she hadn’t expected Hoffman
to volunteer her without her approval. She’d figured she would have to beg for
permission.

I
can help. I’m the only who’s seen the inside!

It’s
too dangerous, Karen. We can’t risk it.

Andy’s
in there!  

She’d
pictured Hoffman’s face furrowing with frustration before he finally nodded and
said:
Okay. We’ll let you go with us.

Now
she understood that all along, he had planned on dragging her back there,
regardless. He was going to use her for bait.  

“Care
if I step outside?” asked Karen.

“For
what?”

“Does
it matter?”

A
deep breath hissed through Hoffman’s nose. “I suppose not. Can I trust you
won’t try to run away?”

“Would
you knock that off?” said Karen. “Andy is still in that hellhole, do you really
think I’d take off without him?”

Hoffman
shrugged. “With his low odds for survival, some would.”

“I’m
not in that category, so fuck off.”

Hoffman
held up his hands. “I apologize.”

“Accepted.
Now give me a dollar.”

“Pardon?”

“I
want a soda. I saw a Pepsi machine at the end of the breezeway, and a Dr.
Pepper sounds great right now. Since I don’t have any money, I need yours.”

“A
Dr. Pepper does sound good. Will you get three? One for all of us?”

“If
you’re buying.”

Hoffman
reached behind him and came back with a folded stack of bills, clasped together
by a clip. Removing two singles, he gave them to Karen. “I’m sorry for being so
blunt, but you have to understand where I’m coming from.”

“I
do understand. What’s your big plan when they get here?”

“To
let them take us.”

“Ah.
And what if they just kill us right here?”

“They
won’t. Might bring attention to them.”

“I
hope you’re right.” She turned away from Hoffman and headed to the door. “Not
that I mind you hanging out, after all, you paid for my room. But how long are
you planning on staying? I’d like to get a nap before the action begins, if I
have time.”

“You
should have time.”

“Great.”

She
opened the door and hurried out. Standing in the breezeway, she turned left,
heading towards the front office. Her feet throbbed inside Hoffman’s slippers.
The footwear slipped down her heels, nearly falling off with every step. Her
legs hurt, hips, all over. This short distance to the drink machine was going
to take forever. If she didn’t hurry, though, Hoffman might think she’d made a
break for it.

The
nerve of Hoffman, just
assuming
she would run away!

I
could.

“So
what,” she muttered. “Andy needs my help.”

Right.
Hoffman’s already written him off. If I don’t help him, no one will.

Karen
saw a plank suspended by thin chains with
Office
faded across the front.
Another course cut to the right to a small cubicle. Inside was the ice machine
and a soda machine that dispensed cans for seventy-five cents. She saw the
dollar track above the coin slot. As she approached the machine she unfolded
the bills.

“Walking
a little limpy there, huh?”

The
voice startled her, making her gasp. She spun around. A short, plump man stood
in the doorway, smiling. His curled mouth pushed his chubby cheeks high on his
face. His eyes were squinted slits behind the thick black glasses. Something
about him was vaguely familiar. And it wasn’t just that he looked like Drew Carey.

Karen
faked a smile. “Yes. Had a bit of an accident.”

The
man nodded. Karen noticed the name badge pinned to his shirt: Vern—Manager.

“Looks
more than a
little
accident.”

Karen
shrugged, held out her hands, the bills slightly wagging. “Well…” She realized
she didn’t need to explain herself to this guy.

“Do
I know you?” he asked.

Karen
made a face. “Very doubtful. I’m not from around here.”

“I
can tell
that
much. But, I swear…I’ve seen you somewhere.”

Again,
Karen shrugged. “Don’t think so.” The work of keeping up her false smile was
starting to hurt her face.

“Do
I look familiar to you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Are
you sure?”

Karen
studied him closer. He wore a white buttoned shirt that had apparently been
bleached, yet dark stains still remained, and a black tie hanging down his
torso. His face was damp with perspiration. Oily reddish hair was plastered
flat on his skull, large gut sagging over plump thighs. He was familiar, but
she couldn’t place where she should know him from.

Maybe
he
is
Drew Carey.

“Sorry,
pal,” she said. “Not ringing any bells.”

“Hmm.
Maybe you just have one of those faces.”

“Maybe.”

“Well,
I’ll let you get your soda.”

“Thank
you.”

He
started to leave, but stopped. Karen smirked, knowing his retreat was too good
not to be a scam.

“Just
thought of something,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Why
don’t you take a close look at this face and tell me if it
rings a bell
.”

Karen
started to say something when Alexia stepped through the doorway. Though she
was now fully dressed in tight plaid pants, a dark T-shirt that was cut even
shorter to expose her midriff, Karen recognized her right away.

“Can
I rub your thigh a little?” Alexia asked.

“My…God…”

“Surprised
to see me?”

Karen
suddenly felt too weak to even hold the dollar bills. They slipped from her
fingers, fluttering to the concrete floor. “A little…”

“You
might not recognize Vern here, but he surely recognized you earlier. He owns
the motel here, comes in early in the morning after finishing up with his
part-time third shift job. He was just settling in for a hard day’s work when
our phantom wandered in and paid for a room for a friend. Vern watched them
help you inside. Lucky for us, he’s also an open pervert, with cameras in all
the rooms. He watched you. And, when he saw the old man begin telling you about
us…” She shook her head. “Like a good little boy, he contacted us. And, here we
are.”

Karen
felt dirty, as if she’d skipped having that shower. Then she realized Vern had
been watching her while she’d bathed.

When
she looked at him, he started nodding. “Yep. I saw it
all
.”

“Son
of a bitch,” gasped Karen. Who Vern was crashed down on her so fiercely, she
nearly dropped to the floor. “You’re the cleanup guy from the club!”

Vern
laughed. “Not the title I would pick, but yes. Among other things. I do
whatever they need me to and in return—”

Karen
held up a hand to silence him. “I know what they do for you. You’re one of
their slaves…”

“You
can’t even
begin
to imagine what they do for me.”

“Nor
do I want to.”

Vern
scowled. “Nice. Insult my obvious obesity and repulsiveness. It’s all right.
I’m used to it. Before I had Alexia, there wasn’t a woman alive who’d fuck me willingly,
unless I paid for it, and even then, I could tell they didn’t want to. But,
Alexia, Monica, Sugar, all those girls at The Skin Show have treated me like
John Holmes. They just can’t get enough of me.” With that bold statement, he
tugged at his crotch.

Karen
grimaced.

Alexia
put her arm around Vern’s chubby neck. “We all adore you, Vernie-boy. But,
I
adore you the most.”

“I
know you do, babe.”

Alexia
and Vern started making out, tongues lashing at one another as if trying to
stab their lips. The disgusting slurping sounds of their kisses nauseated
Karen. Not soon enough, they pulled away from each other.

“That’s
what I like,” said Alexia.

Karen
was about to call for Hoffman, but Alexia waved her hand. “Don’t bother
screaming for help. I’ll go get the old man myself.” She looked at Vern. “Keep
an eye on our friend.”

“Gladly,”
he said.