Page 63 of Skin Trade

Her head pounded and her face flushed. Fifty showers weren’t going to get this shit off her. She’d have to strip a layer of skin off herself just to feel clean again.

“One of those things was eating something. Like a cat or a rabbit.” She could see it in her head, the skinned body of a small animal. Too big for a rat, too small for a dog.”

“An animal? That doesn’t make any sense. There are no animals down there.”

“Well it was. It had it in its hand, was chewing on it.” She tried to force the image from her head—a deformed woman, her teeth and all that blood dripping down from her mouth. She could see it all. She would probably see it for a long time. Straightening herself, she pushed her hair back. “Oh, God, it’s in my hair too.”

Bobby nodded. ‘Yep. Got you good, that one. Give me a second.”

The room was a large kitchen that combined with a staff room. There was the large sink, where she’d thrown up, a fridge, a locker and a counter with a kettle and various items for them to make themselves drinks. Coats hung on the pegs beside the door and the sofa was covered with bags. The small coffee table was laden with glasses and magazines. Even a pizza box had found its home in the middle.

Bobby went to the large metal locker and opened it. Inside were shelves layered with cloths, towels, napkins. Cloth items the bar needed to run. “I don’t think Seth will mind if I give you one of these. Better than walking through his club looking the way you do.” He pulled down a cellophane covered top. A staff shirt.

The front of her shirt was thick with the blood from the thirsty. It had soaked through her shirt so much that her top clung to her skin. “I don’t even want to lift this over my head.” Even though her hair was a mess already, the idea of wiping it through her hair even more … no.

“We could cut it off?” Bobby pulled out a drawer from under the counter. “Here. Try these. It isn’t like you’re going to keep it.”

“That’s for sure. Not even a memento.” She sighed. “Are you sure Seth will be okay? I mean, they’re pretty fast, I saw …”

“I promise you. If there are thirsty down there, they’re dead already. Now,” he began, holding out the new top, “we should get you changed before he comes up and kicks my arse for not looking after you.”

“If I put that on with my hair like this, it’s going to get messed up. I need to wash this shit out of my hair before I put that on.”

“Use the sink.” He unhooked the hose that hung above the sink. One of those hoses most kitchens had for rinsing off dishes or vegetables.

“That’ll work.” Before she used it on her hair, she sprayed it into the sink and rinsed down what was left from her vomit. Only then did she lean over the sink and spray the water over her hair. It might have been meant for something else, but right then, Payton didn’t care. As long as she got this shit out of her hair, it could be whatever the hell it needed to be.

The water ran dark and red at the bottom of the sink, a swirling, stinking mess. She had to close her eyes not to see it. It was just a shame she couldn’t close off her nose the same way. The warmth of the water made the stench from the blood swirl up to her with the steam. She couldn’t even hide her face in her shirt to try to escape it.

“Is there any soap?” She peered at Bobby, upside down.

“We have hand soap.”

“Any soap. I don’t care what it is. At this point, I don’t care if you get dishwashing liquid and throw that over my head.”

“Try this,” he grabbed the soap dispenser and pumped it a few times into his hand before lathering up. “It’s cleaning foam.” He showed her his hand.

“Do it.”

“If this makes your hair fall out, don’t blame me.”

“Right now, I’d cut my hair off if it would help.”

“Okay.” He got more soap and lathered his hands again. He massaged it into her scalp and then, when they were both happy her hair wasn’t going to fall out, he got more soap and did it again. It smelt like the ocean and cotton. Like fabric that had been left outside near the beach on a sunny day. She wasn’t sure why it reminded her of that, or even how she remembered such scents. It had been a long time since she’d been anywhere near a beach, let alone close enough to smell anything.

The blood smell hadn’t gone by the time she’d washed her hair three times. Or maybe it had, and the acrid scent of it had just managed to stain her nostrils so she was scarred with it for good. She let Bobby soap up her hair one more time.

“Let me get you a towel.” He left her there, bent over the sink and the clunk of the cabinet opening made her jump. But he was back a second later, wrapping the towel around her head. She was going to shower after this, a damn long shower that would mean someone would send out a search party for her.

“Will you cut my top off now?”

Bobby handed Payton another towel so she could wipe the water from her face.

“Sure. Turn around.”

She did and he began to cut at the back of it, cutting through the middle and splitting it into two. He pulled at the fabric in places, making it rip faster. “Your bra is covered too.”

The door opened and closed, making both Bobby and Payton turn. “You cut that off and I feed you to the thirsty myself.” Seth had taken his waistcoat and tie off. He walked towards them, unbuttoning his shirt. His face was covered in blood, dark, dead blood. The stench of it told her it wasn’t his. It was too dead for that. Like he was coated in rotten meat. He threw his sword into the sink, along with another blade and the gun he’d been using. All of them were covered, sticky and red. His shirt went in the bin.

---