Grayson's Veil
Chapter 24

Grayson sipped from a wine bottle as he watched Sister Jane get the new horse ready.

Sleep did not take him like he hoped it would. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, allowing darkness to creep along the edges of his eye sight and seep into his skin. When he was sure he was about to cross the line into hysteria, he got up and went in search of more wine.

Of course, when he found it the nun was already skittering about. Grayson would not have been surprised if the nun did not sleep too.

After attempting several times to help Sister Jane, and each time being shooed away, Grayson leaned against the stable and dazed at the sky. It was a clear early morning; the stars were still out, and the moon was dipping behind the horizon. It was daunting in a way, having such beautiful sight remind you that you are just a tiny piece in the vast puzzle of the universe.

Many of the towns’ people near Grayson’s home thought the idea of a universe was ridiculous. That there was not more to it than their own lives. Grayson found the idea fascinating. It made his life seem so insignificant. Until this Veil began to become a problem. Now it seems there is much more to learn than just the universe.

Sister Jane cleared her throat angrily, trying to grab Grayson’s attention.

He laughed, pushing off the beam. “It’s ok, Sister. You can speak to me, I won’t bite.” He leaned over so he could whisper in her ear, “unless you request me to.”

The nun sent a piercing slap across Grayson’s cheek, making him laugh again. “I apologize, Sister Jane. I think the morning wine is going to my head.”

Lies. He was sober as could be, he just wanted to tease the old lady.

“Well restrain yourself, because next time I will not be so nice.” She retorted, lifting her chin up high.

Grayson raised a brow, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I get the feeling you’re not as devout as you like to paint yourself as, Sister.”

Still holding her chin high, she grabbed the horse’s reigns and shoved them into Grayson’s hands, nearly making him drop his wine. “Head west, towards the thickest part of the forest. The amulet is within that area.” She grabbed the wine bottle from him before he could finish it off.

Grayson scowled at the Nun. “Any other information?”

Sister Jane shook her head, an apologetic look crossing her features before being replaced by her usual glower. “Best of luck,” she snarled.

Grayson opened his mouth to respond, but she had already walked away.

Annoyance gnawed at him as he mounted the horse. He was doing these two strangers a favor and yet they were treating him like shit on the bottom of their shoe.

“I will pray for your success,” the nun’s somber voice drifted to Grayson.

Ignoring her, he lightly kicked the sides of the horse to begin their journey.

The ride was uneventful.

Grayson would nibble on stale bread and cheese that was packed into the saddle bags to pass the time. Every once in a while he would catch something out of the corner of his eye, but every time he looked it was gone.

It did not bother him.

But it started to increase in frequency as he ventured further into the forest.

The clouds moved in front of the sun, blocking the light and warmth it provided.

Grayson shivered, rubbing his arms in an attempt to keep feeling in them.

The horse snorted and started to breathe heavily, puffs of hot air exiting out its nostrils. The hairs on the back of Grayson’s neck stood.

‘We are being watch,’ his demon pointed out.

Grayson did not answer. He leaned over the neck of the horse, grasping its mane for leverage.

The chill in the air was like an ice pick on his skin. Every move caused sharp pain to dance along his nerve endings. Grayson had to grit his teeth to distract himself from the pain and oddness of the air.

‘… listen,’ the demon whispered.

Pulling on the reigns, Grayson dismounted. He patted the horse’s nose, trying to quite its nervous breathing.

He strained his ears but could not hear anything.

Grayson was about to point it out when it finally clicked in his head.

’I cannot hear anything…shit.’

Grayson crouched down, simultaneously hiding and leading the horse to the nearest tree. He wrapped the reigns around the trunk, not wanting to lose his way of escaping fast if needed.

He paused after tying a knot. The bark on the tree was rotted and covered in a slimy residue.

‘What is this place?’ He wondered while breaking a piece of the bark off.

The horse whinnied helplessly, stepping closer to Grayson. Even the horse could tell they had stepped into something unordinary.

There was an absence of animal life replaced with a low buzz sound.

Creeping around the tree, Grayson moved further into the odd atmosphere.

He made it several feet before his foot nearly flew out from under him. Steadying himself, he looked under his feet to see what might have caused the slip.

At first, looking down he did not see anything other than crunchy, rotten leaves on the forest floor. But after staring intently, he saw a solid wrinkly object.

Grayson tilted his head in confusion, crouching down closer.

He brushed the dirt and leaves away, revealing a long piece of leather.

‘Well weird, But that’s not uncommon,’ Grayson thought with a downward tilt of his lips.

‘So naïve,’ the demon tsked. ‘Do not be so close minded. Look closer.’

Rolling his eyes at his demon’s tone, he brought the leather to his face.

It was covered in dirt and other residue. Grayson scrunched his nose at the smell of earth, iron and decay but noted how incredibly long it was.

Stretching it out, he noted it was as long as him.

‘Huh?’ Grayson rubbed his chin, twirling his beard around his pointer finger, trying to understand what he was looking at.

Continuing to rotate it in his hands, until he noticed there was no edge to it.

Cautiously, Grayson spread it out in front of him.

“Oh holy shit!” He yelled, dropping the leather to ground and stepping back a few paces.

The leather was rotten human flesh, in its complete form. No tears in it.

Grayson clenched his jaw so he did not vomit, his demon laughing manically inside his head.

Swallowing the excess spit that built up in his mouth, Grayson kneeled before the skin. He stretched it out so he could see the whole body.

Hair was still attached to the scalp, but it was dirty and horribly knotted so he could not tell what the natural color was. Body hair was sporadically decorated throughout the body, making Grayson think the skin was from a man.

He glanced down and confirmed his suspicions from the wrinkled skin of what would have been a penis and testicles.

Looking back at its face, the eyelids looked to be glued shut, along with a horrified expression plastered on the face. The mouth was open, but it looked appalling without the teeth and tongue inside it.

Grayson gritted his teeth and swallowed again.

He stood up and looked forward. There was a path of skins from animals and humans, all dirty and blending into the forest floor.

Grayson continued carefully, trying with every ounce of strength he had to stay silent.

The further he went into the forest, the more uncomfortable he felt in his own skin.

He started to rub on his arm and the back of his neck, then it slowly escalated to him roughly rubbing his skin to full on tugging at it.

“Ugh,” he complained as he rubbed against a nasty tree trunk.

He whimpered but kept walking despite the awkward feeling of his skin.

“What seems to be the problem, traveler?” An old, hoarse voice spoke to him.

Grayson jumped back, his sword out if its sheath as he faced the person speaking.

It was an old man dressed in brown robes, smoking from a long pipe, sitting with his legs crossed near a fire. A hood hid his face except for the long white beard that was near the forest floor.

Grayson straightened slowly while rubbing his leg. He gazed at the scene, unsure of how to react while his skin continued to crawl.

Behind the old man was a large tent made of deer and human skins. It appeared to be large enough to house goods, making Grayson believe he was a man of trade. Smoke rose from the back of the tent, but disappeared before reaching the top of the trees, effectively hiding its location.

More skins hung from trees along with bones and trinkets tied by a string.

The fire was surrounded by human skulls and white rocks.

Grayson rubbed an ear on his shoulder, vaguely remembering the old man asking him a question.

“You seem to be distressed. Please, have a seat,” the old man gestured to the other side of the fire.

Grayson slowly made his way to the spot, never sheathing his sword and never taking his eyes off the old man.

“Do not worry, traveler. I am too old to try to rob you,” he wheezed a laugh.

Those words did nothing to comfort Grayson.

“Who are you?” Grayson asked as he sat down. The fire was low enough he could see the old man well.

The old man inhaled his pipe, then exhaled a large amount of dark smoke. “I asked you first, Traveler.”

Grayson narrowed his eyes. “Exactly as you say, a Traveler.”

“Hmm.” The old man shook his head slightly but did not say more. He dug into his sleeve, removing a small bag of tobacco. He emptied the pipe over the fire, causing sparks to dance around before settling back into its previous state.

“Well? I answered your question. Who are you?” Grayson asked while he shifted, trying to get more comfortable.

The old man tapped the tobacco into his pipe. “Just an old man,” he rasped out.

Grayson lifted his brow in disbelief. “That’s funny, I did not believe old men decorated their homes with bones and human skin.”

The old man paused. The hood tilted up, making Grayson realize he was looking directly at him.

“So you see…” He whispered.

Grayson scratched behind his ear, “What?” He was becoming distracted by the itching and horribly uncomfortable in his skin.

Grunting in frustration, Grayson grabbed his skin and pulled. It moved so smoothly, like it was not attached to him anymore, that he nearly fell over at the sight.

His eyes bugged out, his mouth opened in a silent scream. Grayson tried righting his skin again, but it would not stay. If it wasn’t for the rest of his body, the muscle and skeleton, his skin would slough off him.

Grayson began to breathe unsteadily, heart racing with a sudden raise in panic.

‘It’s the fumes from the tent. Take a puff from the old man’s pipe,’ the demon spoke.

Squeezing the handle of his sword, he looked to the old man.

He had his pipe lit and was holding it out to Grayson. “Take. Smoke. It will help with the itchy crawlies,” he rasped out a laugh, his shoulders moving ever so slightly.

Grayson eyed the pipe. He reached for it but ended up shoving it away from him, his breath’s coming out in pants.

“No,” he choked out, “no smoke.” He shakily grabbed his flask and showed the old man. “Only drink.”

The old man nodded in understanding, leaning over to take the flask.

He dumped the tobacco into the liquid and swirled it.

Reaching across the low burning fire, Grayson snatched the flask back from the old man’s wrinkled hand.

Slowly, he moved the drink to his lips. He glanced up to the old man, seeing he had produced more tobacco and was already smoking it.

With another roll of his skin crawling, Grayson put the flask to his lips and drank deeply.

Chunks of the tobacco slid down his throat, making him cough. Some of the wine spilled out his mouth and trailed along the skin of his throat.

He took large gulps, ignoring how badly the wine and tobacco tasted together.

When he finished he gasped for air and clutched the hilt of his sword. His skin was already feeling normal. He looked at his arm and saw the skin tight against his muscles.

He blew out a shaky breath as he turned back to the old man.

“Thank you,” Grayson murmured as he put his flask away.

The old man chuckled, waving his skinny, leathery tobacco stained hand at him.

“What is in the smoke?” He asked, thrusting a chin in the direction of the tent.

Before the old man could answer, a woman screamed for help.

Grayson whipped his head towards commotion, jumping up to stand and fight.

The old man murmured, “Do not worry. It is all part of the process.”

His nonchalant sounding voice made Grayson’s blood turn cold. “What do you mean?”

At his question, a naked pretty young woman ran towards him. She threw herself into his arms while she cried hysterically.

Grayson moved his head back, trying to put some kind of distance between them.

She looked up at him with wide blue eyes. “Help me! P-please help m-me,” she sobbed uncontrollably.

Grabbing her by her shoulder’s Grayson bent over to look her in the eyes. “What is wrong? What happened?”

She trembled and sobbed harder, the words she tried to get out were incoherent to his ears.

Grayson looked to the old man, “We need to help her! Let me bring her into your tent!”

The old man put up a hand. “No. Wait.”

Glaring at the old man, Grayson cradle the woman. Before he could take a step, though, she screeched.

The young woman tore herself out of his arms and stood up straight, facing him.

She opened her mouth wide and put her hands on either sides of her cheeks, her fingers touching the inside.

With a final high pitched whimper, she stretched her skin.

Wider, wider it stretched while she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, tears continuously falling down her face.

Horrified, Grayson tried to grab her hands to stop her. She jumped back with another screech then continued her assault.

Grayson grunted in frustration but tried to reach for her again.

The woman side stepped his attempt. There was no use, her mouth had stretched so far that it was no longer attached to her face.

Almost like she was trying hard not to damage her skin, she slipped the opening past her head and over her shoulders slowly. The rest fell to the ground, leaving her with nothing but muscle, bone, and tendons exposed. Blood trickled down her limbs, making Grayson think of the times he hunted then skinned his meals.

The young woman sighed in relief while stepping away from her skin. Gently grabbing it, she walked over to the old man and kneeled next to him.

Placing the skin over her forearms, she offered it to him.