Katie Marie Robinson-Sherlock

I leave the tailor several hours later and arrived home after dark. Standing in my bedroom I remove the shirt and look at the God living in my skin. It looked bigger, it’s form sharper both in focus and in design. It moved over my skin like an insect, denting the skin but never breaking it. I swallowed my revulsion and put my shirt back on. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I noticed the text alert.

Hey Greg, my man! I’ve pulled some strings for you, and you can take the time up to the interview as a paid holiday. Take some time for yourself. We care for our executives. See you at the interview, Mike.

I slumped back against the wall. Holy shit. This was really happening. I was finally getting somewhere. No more endless hours of slog to just barely scrape by. I was going to be living life well. A giddy laugh bubbled out of me, and I put my hand to my chest where I could feel the pinch-scratch of the tattoo.

The next afternoon, I was sitting at the pristine table of the most exclusive sushi restaurant in the city. I heavily bandaged my hand from the blood price I had paid to get in without a reservation and my few splurges throughout the morning. The thing in my skin, it still insisted it was a God, and I was believing it, was more responsive to each moment. I didn’t even have to voice my request out loud. It was like it could read my mind. Everything I wanted, for just a few drops of blood.

It was worth it.

At my feet sat bags from high end clothes stores, my old clothes in a bin in the men’s bathroom. In my new attire, I could feel myself sitting straighter, meeting people’s gaze head on and smiling. Clothes make the man. Well, clothes and a new haircut. I looked no different from any other schmuck on the table paying for overpriced fish on rice.

“Would you like another?” a hand on my shoulder made me turn.

The server was young and beautiful. She smiled at me like she meant it, and my heart picked up. I returned her smile and nodded, knowing my voice would give me away. She came back moments later with a cold beer and when she leaned over to put it down in front of me; I took her wrist. A drop of black spilled out of my skin and disappeared into hers.

“You’re um…” she swallowed and blinked a few times rapidly, as if to clear her vision. I let go of her wrist. “I um… I never do this, but…” she pulled out a card from the restaurant and scribbled her number on the back before handing it to me. Her trembling bottom lip made her smile wobble.

“I’ll pick you up tonight at eight.”

 I headed to the bathroom after the meal and went into a cubicle once I was sure I was alone.

“That will cost you.” The voice on my skin buzzed.

“Blood, yeah, I know…” I pulled the razor I was keeping in my wallet out.

“Unnecessary.” The God crept down my arm, the scratch pinch of its movements feeling sharper than before. “I can take for myself.” I watched, mesmerised, as a spiked tentacle wove out from under my shirt sleeve and over the back of my hand. It coiled around my ring finger and tightened.

“Hey, wait…” I bit my lip as I heard the bathroom door open. The coil around my finger grew sharper, tighter, breaking the skin. Blood spewed out but vanished almost immediately into the ink. Yet the tentacle continued to tighten. I bit down on my tongue as the tightness reached a crescendo and my finger came clean off.

Black spots danced in my vision, and I swayed to the side, hitting my head on the wall.

“You ok in there?” a voice from outside the cubicle called. I nodded, then remembering he couldn’t see me, I called out that I was fine.

I dared to look down at my maimed hand. My finger was gone. But the wound looked decades old. Like something I’d done as a kid. The skin perfectly healed over.

“Christ,” I spat. Stumbling out of the cubicle to splash water on my sweat-soaked face. I glanced around. Whoever had been in here was long gone. “Fucking warn me next time.”

“Issss goooooooood” the god in my skin sounded deeper, bigger. When I concentrated on it, I could feel it spread across my chest. I looked down again at my hand. It didn’t hurt at all. I flexed my remaining fingers. Hell, that hadn’t been so bad, and now I looked kind of badass. Like I’d done something interesting once upon a time. Or maybe I was dangerous? Women liked dangerous men, right? Maybe I should get a ring for one of the other fingers? Yeah, a nice gold ring, something to add a little class to my ‘dangerous’ look.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. My suit was immaculate. My posture was perfect. My eyes looked different. Had they always been this dark? I smiled. The smile didn’t feel like mine.

I headed out of the restaurant intending to go to a jeweller, but stopped in the parking lot. Parked right in front of the restaurant was a dark green Jaguar XJ. I didn’t know if it was the same one from work, but it sure looked like it. It was a thing of beauty, status, and pride. I shook my head, no. I promised myself I’d be sensible. The job would get me the car and the house I wanted. I just needed the God to get me through the interview.

I glanced down at my hand. 

If a date cost a finger, then what would a car cost, let alone a car like this? But what if the God wasn’t enough? What if it wasn’t enough to get me through the interview? I mean, I had the suit on order; I had the new hair and the shoes. But underneath that, I was still just Greg. Greg, who no one looked at or listened to. Greg, who’d been at the same company for years, drove the same car since college, lived in the same rented place.

“You could be great.” The God writhed on my chest, tiny blood spots seeping through the shirt.

I could be Greg turning up to the interview in his brand-new Jaguar XJ. Who could turn down that Greg? Yeah, I’d be better if I had this. They’d take me seriously if I had this.

Then I’d stop.

After that I’d only use the God for emergencies.

Thursday morning, I left a beautiful woman in my bed and arrived early for the interview in a suit that cost more than my monthly rent payment, and a car that cost more than some houses. I’d requested some last-minute alterations to the suit, and the tailor had been an absolute pro, making them fast and well.

Heading into the office, my newfound confidence melted away and I couldn’t help the dread sinking in my gut. I know logically that people were staring at me for a multitude of reasons, and it was highly unlikely that one of those reasons was because I was going for an interview. People were looking at the suit, the car and the price I had paid for it. But that didn’t stop the little voice in my head telling e they were laughing, that they knew what I was going for and just how laughable it was.

I got off the elevator and made a rapid beeline for Mike’s office, charging inside without knocking.

“Greg,” Mike looked up at me from his computer. “Wow, you look… I mean, what happened, man?”

“Nothing much.”

“Nothing much! But your left arm-” he started.

“So, this interview.” I interrupted. Mike took a moment to stare at me, a frown growing on his brow. 

“How’d you know we’re doing interviews today?” He glared at me. Sweat broke out across my back as the dread in my gut transformed into panic. My ears buzzed. Oh God.

“Because I’m your 9am interview, remember? But it’s just a formality, right?” Mike was silent for a long moment, blinking slowly at me. Then he laughed.

“Wait, what? You think… you? In Donald’s position… Really?”

“But you said, I mean you texted me.” I fumbled with the phone, pulling it awkwardly out of my pocket. I tried to find the text message but dropped the damn thing before I could.

“Hey, hey.” Mike stood up, his tone changing rapidly to one of false comfort. It was the same tone he’d taken when he’d sacked Mary in front of everyone two months ago. “I can see something’s happened.” He gestured to the place my left arm used to be. “But that’s no reason for you to be coming in here claiming a right to this interview. Maybe you should go home for a few days, think about your place here. Is this really where you see yourself for the rest of your life?” He put a hand on my shoulder and gently but firmly pushed me out the door.

I fled to the bathroom.

“What the fuck was that?” I yelled, not caring that the two guys already in the room gave me looks before fleeing in awkward silence. I tore at the topmost buttons on my shirt. “I was supposed to be a shoe in! But he acted like he had no idea!”

“My powers are growing with each sacrifice.” The amalgamation of teeth on my chest ground out. “In those past times I was a small God, now I am stronger.”

“Wait.” I put my remaining hand to my head. “What?”

“I need more blood.”

“I already gave you blood for this!”

“I need more. To perform great, long-lasting feats, I need more!”

“How do I know your power or magic or whatever the fuck this is won’t wear off again?” I wiped sweat from my forehead, my hands shaking so hard I nearly poked myself in the eye.

“My power grows with each sacrifice. One more gift and my power will be far greater.”

“One more.” I swallowed, my throat sandpaper dry. I glanced at the clock. 8:58am my entire life was minutes away from being ruined.

“What do you need?” I gripped the sink hard.

“Enough.” I could feel it moving. It unfurled across my entire body. Winding out from my back and chest to cover my arms and my legs. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to remain still, and the scratch pinch of its touch made my skin want to crawl off my bones. It closed my eyes, and I felt it wind around my throat. I turned clammy cold under its grasp and shouted as barbs erupted from its design and pierced my skin. My blood immediately vanishing into the ink.

The barbs were white hot, an immeasurable pinpoint pain that made my vision white out. The heat lanced through me, deeper and deeper until it hit my bones. I crumpled to the ground as my bones felt like they turned molten. The heat wrapping around them tightly. I was so overcome that I didn’t notice the heat was worse in my leg.

“I am God.” It’s voice boomed. “And I will have blood.”

I blacked out.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Mike. He was crouched next to me on the bathroom floor.

“There you are.” His smile was wide, warm and real. Instantly, the dread that had been living in me since I walked through the door faded. “Come on up, you get.” He helped me to my feet only for me to collapse immediately back down.

Something was wrong.

My balance was off. My center of gravity had shifted, and it took a second before my brain caught up to what I was seeing.

My right leg was missing.

But there was no pain. No wound, no blood. My pant leg hung neatly over a void where my knee should have been.

I let out a strangled laugh.

Mike bent down and picked something up. When he turned, he was holding a beautiful black prosthetic leg, glossy and smooth like polished obsidian. Veins of silver ran through it, but when I looked closer, I saw that they moved.

Tentacles. Barbed. Breathing.

“You alright?” Mike said as he handed me the leg. I nodded. “Great, don’t worry, I won’t tell the others our newest executive fainted in the bathroom.” He winked at me like we were co-conspirators and left me to somehow attach the false leg. 

“Humans are so fragile.”

The voice was everywhere now. Not just in my skin but in my lungs, in my heartbeat, in my breath. I reached up and pressed my hand to my chest. I could feel it. Growing. Expanding. Filling the spaces where my ribs used to be.

“I gave you what you wanted,” it said, but this time, it didn’t sound like a promise.

My mind felt heavy. Sluggish. Like I was sinking into ink.

“Wait,” I whispered. “What… what did you take?”

The God chuckled.

“Oh, Greg,” it murmured, stroking my spine with a thousand invisible hands. “I took you.”