The Painted Skin

Wei worked through the night. He painted the sigils with the cinnabar mixture, chanting the binding sutras under his breath. The air in the shop grew heavy, pressurized like the inside of a diving bell.

At 3:00 AM, the mirror cracked.

A fissure appeared down the center of the glass.

Wei stepped back, grabbing a bottle of solvent to use as a weapon, though he knew it would do nothing against a spirit.

Grey mist poured from the crack. It coalesced in the center of the room, forming a vague, shifting shape. A woman.

But she had no face. Just a smooth, blank oval of skin.

The entity turned toward Wei. It drifted closer. It sniffed the air.

It reached out a smoky hand to touch Wei’s face.

Wei didn't move. He stood his ground, letting the monster see him.

The hand stopped inches from his scars. The entity recoiled. It hissed—a sound like dry leaves skittering on pavement.

* Ugly,* the voice whispered in his mind. *Broken. Useless.*

It turned away from him. It wasn't interested. It couldn't feed on him. There was no vanity here, only scar tissue and regret.

The mist swirled, condensing, tightening. It shot toward the door, seeping through the cracks.

It was heading for the high-rise district.

"Mei," Wei gasped.

He grabbed the cracked mirror—the anchor—and shoved it into his bag. He grabbed the jar of cinnabar and a spool of red thread.

He ran out into the rain.

He didn't take his car. He ran. He knew the entity moved through reflections—puddles, shop windows, car mirrors. It would be faster than him.

He arrived at Mei’s apartment building twenty minutes later, his lungs burning. The doorman tried to stop the hooded, masked figure, but Wei vaulted the turnstile and sprinted for the elevator.

Penthouse.

The elevator ride was an eternity. Wei watched the floor numbers tick up. 40... 41... 42...

The doors opened.

Mei’s apartment was a glass box in the sky. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city lights. It was a hall of mirrors.

"Mei!" Wei shouted.

The apartment was silent.

He ran to the bedroom.

Mei was standing in front of the vanity. A massive, three-paneled mirror dominated the room.

She was wearing a red silk slip. She was brushing her hair.

* Brush. Brush. Brush.*

"Mei?" Wei stepped forward.

She turned around.

She was smiling. It was a perfect, dazzling smile. Too wide. Too showing of teeth.

"Hello, Wei," she said. Her voice was layered, like two people speaking at once.

Wei froze. He looked at the mirror behind her.

Mei’s reflection wasn't smiling. The reflection was screaming, pounding on the glass from the inside, silent and terrified.

The entity wasn't in the bronze mirror anymore. It hadn't been for days.

"You're too late," the thing wearing Mei’s skin said. "I fit her perfectly. Don't you think?"