Under My Skin

by Shawntelle Madison

  I was swimming against the current, and soon I’d be over my head.

  At one particular meeting, I had afternoon drinks with a high-ranking Guild official and his wife. They sat opposite me, the woman feeding morsels of beef to an overweight toy dog, while the man scratched at a gleaming bald spot on his head. I tried not to imagine the poor people whose souls they’d buried to take their place.

  Quinn and Cecelia waited to serve me from the other side of the room. For once, I wished I could join them. Smoke from the man’s cigar filled the room, leaving me in a haze I inhaled with each breath the General took. The man’s Water Bearer, a girl who had to be around my age, stood close behind him with a serving tray. After she offered him another drink, he said, “You’ve had this body for some time now? Do you have any plans for that atrocious scar on your face?”

  Trapped within my mind, I couldn’t react to his words. Jerk.

  The General made me laugh, loud and hearty. “I paid good money for this body. I even paid a few more credits to keep this smile.” He snorted for good measure. “I’ll get rid of it when I’m good and ready.”

  Quinn’s fists clenched, but I couldn’t see him anymore when the General turned away.

  After a few minutes, the official switched subjects. “Do you think the Prime Minister will select you to push back the invaders to the north?”

  “Most likely. But the Prime Minister can be fickle when it comes to politics.” The General picked up a drink from the end table next to his seat. He took a gulp of liquor and sighed. Again, that awful taste. A burning on my tongue from the honey-colored liquid. The tenuous hold I had on my body was centered in an area from my nostrils into my mouth. And this area was being subjected to the most foul smoke, food, and drink. It was just another way to show me who had the upper hand right now.

  “Our enemies have made similar mistakes in the past,” the man said. “But with a coordinated effort, we should have no problems driving them out.”

  “Every conflict is solved with deceit, Marcus. You study the enemy, you learn his weak points, and then you exploit them.”

  Right after I said the words, a spark ignited in my brain. I’d heard those words before: deceit and conflict are one and the same. With my interest piqued, I clung to that statement and formed a plan: once we returned to General Dagon’s estate, I had to search his library.

  The trip ended as it began, with me sitting alone while Cecelia and Quinn sat ahead of me. I would’ve dreaded the ride, but as Des helped me dress for the trip, she tucked a small piece of plastic into my hand. From the quick glance she gave me, she expected me to look at it when I was alone. Truly alone.

  I had that chance once we reached the General’s estate, my new home in the middle of a vast expanse of grounds surrounded by electrified fences and two guard posts at the gates. I practically had my own military base in my front yard. To see all this from the outside again made me feel like a trapped animal. Everyone told me the fences and walls were for the safety of the General’s household. But I knew his defenses were meant to keep people—like the ones who tried to rescue me—out and to keep me in.

  Des offered to bring my lunch to the master suite, but I declined. “I have things to do in my study. I’ll eat later,” I said with as much coldness as I could muster.

  Unlike Rebecca, who would’ve chased me and questioned who was in control, Des gave Cecelia a tray instead. I expected Cecelia to play tag-along, but she simply left me in the grand foyer and plodded down the hall. Quinn waited patiently at my side.

  With no one to spy on me, I entered the General’s study and locked us inside.

  He didn’t know who was in control, so he took his place to guard the door.

  I covered my mouth. “Don’t let anyone in, Quinn.”

  He slowly nodded, trailing behind me much closer than expected. “What are you looking for?”

  “Something valuable…”

  “Can I help?” The distraction of my hunt was nothing compared to the fluttering in my stomach having him so close. He just wanted to offer a hand, but I couldn’t help but think about what it might be like to turn around and really talk to him face to face.

  “Not yet,” I finally replied. “If someone comes in, I don’t want things to look suspicious.”

  While he hovered nearby, I examined the plastic square. I’d rolled it around my hand for the entire flight, and I couldn’t wait to see what it was about. The small, bright pink disk resembled the ones I’d seen on the comm-console. Girls used them to send quick text messages to each other. I turned it over and examined it, but nothing happened. No network indicator light. Just a black strip where the text should appear. I tapped both sides and waited. After a few minutes, I gave up and put it on the desk. Maybe I’d try again later.

  Okay, time to find a needle in a haystack. I searched for a while and tried not to feel deterred by all the books on the shelves along the walls. All I had to do was find a book about war, most importantly, a book that taught about how to make war.

  As I browsed the shelves, Quinn kept me from going mad with casual conversation.

  “I vaguely remember what it was like to have one of them in my head. How are you feeling?” he asked.

  I paused in my search. “Both deterred and hopeful at the same time.” I could’ve said much more—that I was growing tired everyday and that this chance from Quinn was all I had. Instead of saying the words out loud I set about doing what had to be done.

  The General had a vast amount of reading material. Books about agriculture, politics, and, most importantly, ancient weaponry. But there was nothing I could classify as a book about tactics of warfare. The task was time-consuming, and I didn’t have much time to linger on all the titles. I started at the far end of the room and used the ladder to view the titles on the higher shelves. By the time I got close to the far end, I abandoned the idea. If this book were so special, why would he keep it on one of those shelves?

  From up high on the ladder, I considered the glass cases he kept on the other side of the room. The General stored old weapons inside of one, while the other two had old boxes inside. At first, I didn’t try them, since I expected them to be locked. But then again, didn’t I have the General’s bar code?

  I passed the first glass case and only gave a side glance at the dirty and weathered las-gun inside. None of the other stuff was recognizable.

  The next two cases looked interesting. I walked around to the other side of them until I spotted the locked opening. Yep, he’d used a bar code scanner for these. With a flash of my wrist, I opened the door to one and took out the velvet-covered box. When I opened it, I expected to see a book. Instead, I found a beautiful locket. The tarnished metal barely shined, but the weight in my hands told me the jewelry was real gold. On the front side of the locket someone had scratched out an inscription. The latch was broken, but when I gently pried it open, I found an image inside.

  A smiling man and woman, perhaps a few years older than me, sat side-by-side in a garden. I recognized the man immediately from my dream and that haunting painting. It was General Dagon. In the tiniest of letters under their faces, I read: Frederick and Justina—Forever.

  So they had been a couple. With the way those two acted, I wasn’t surprised they weren’t together anymore. I put the locket back in the box.

  Time to check out the next one. This box appeared newer than the last. It had the same velvet, but had a greater height than the other box as well. When I opened it, I couldn’t contain my squeal. A small leatherback book with the title, The Tactics of Combat, lay on the bottom. This had to be it!

  Quinn looked at me with interest, but didn’t interfere.

  I pulled out the book and sat at the desk. Time to figure out if the book would help me with the passcodes. He’d said the first one was vital importance. Now I just had to find where those two words were located and attempt to discern how I could get another passcode. There had to be some kind of system in place. Even maniacal gen
erals didn’t just pick words at random.

  Once I settled into the chair, I browsed and hunted for the first passcode. The contents of the book wasn’t be something I would read, but I tried to remember Quinn’s words. Whenever I wanted to glance over anything boring, like instructions on the proper way a general governed his troops, I mentally slapped myself and tried to stay on task. This was my life. And if I had to read and memorize this entire book, then I’d do it.

  After about five minutes, I found what I was searching for:

  1. The tactics of combat are of vital importance to the military.

  There it was. The first passcode. I bet the second one had to be part of number 2:

  2. These tactics are a matter of life and death, a path either to safety or to ruin. Thus one must study with perseverance and determination.

  A lot of words there. I brought the comm-console to life and saw the login form waiting. I almost typed in the word determination but stopped. Was that the right one? Take it slow. No need to hurry. Which one would he have picked? Determination sounded too simple. No power behind it. I chose ruin.

  The console flashed red and warned me I had two more times before the console would lock me out for twenty-four hours. I scanned the two sentences again. Ruin seemed like a good choice. But he had used two words together last time. I sat back in the seat and sighed. Things didn’t look good.

  Well, time to lock this console down. I tried life and death next. The console flashed red. Instead of waiting again, I decided to just try another one and get it over with. I entered a single word and waited for the lock out.

  But it worked.

  The screen changed and presented me with access to the network. All thanks to one word: death. I wasn’t surprised at all.

  The console asked me if I wanted to use the next passcode set. I told it no. As tempting as it would be to have access whenever I wanted, I still had to keep the General in the dark for as long as possible.

  First things first, I sent my parents a message. I used a public ID though. I didn’t want them replying back to General Dagon. No matter how much I missed them, I refused to bring them into this mess with me. If the General was willing to hurt me, then I couldn’t imagine how he’d hurt them to get to me.

  Mom and Dad,

  How I wish I could speak to you in person or deliver this letter face to face. First of all, I’m okay. I’ve even seen Zoe, too. She’s okay as well. Don’t worry about me. I’m in a safe place and I have everything I need. I hope Dad is feeling better with the new medication. I miss and love you so much.

  Tate S.

  Every word, every lie, was so painful to write. A hurt settled in my chest and brought tears to my eyes. I hesitated multiple times with multiple versions. I clicked send before I could make any more changes. What more could I say? That the Guild had auctioned me off and implanted one of their own into my body? The very thought brought more tears.

  “Tate?” Quinn’s voice was soft. He was closer to me now. A shadow darkening the top of the desk.

  “I’m okay,” I said with a painful exhale. “Just stand by the door.”

  But he leaned closer instead and rested his hand on my shoulder. His palm’s warmth spread through me and I tried to resist leaning into him, but failed.

  He took my arm and tugged me to stand. Without asking me, he drew me into his arms. At first, I held my breath. The bold action was so unexpected. Wasn’t this the boy who tried to end my life when I arrived?

  “What if the General—” My voice was thick from crying.

  He shushed me. “I don’t care. Just let me hold you. You need it…” He paused. “I need it.”

  My pulse jumped at his final words: I need it. I wanted to close my eyes, but couldn’t. On any other day, I would’ve savored having his arms wrapped around my back, the side of my face resting against his chest. But today wasn’t that day. His heartbeat was loud to my ear pressed against him, a thrumming that quickened when I wrapped my arms around his waist. He anchored me.

  I had never been held by a boy like this before. I’d kissed a guy named Harvey when I was ten, but that was just two kids experimenting with embraces and such. This was for real. These feelings I felt for Quinn were growing more than I wanted them to.

  A tear slid down my cheek, but Quinn wiped it away before the drop fell off. His warm hand lingered on my cheek and soothed me. Getting back to work didn’t seem so bad now.

  When I had quieted and the tears had dried, he let me go and went back to the door.

  A few minutes later, I’d managed to spend a few minutes learning more about General Dagon. He had a lot of money. The amount he paid for me at the auction was nothing compared to what he really had: land, mansions, credit accounts in several cities, antiquities, five transport ships, seven cars. My mind couldn’t wrap around his endless wealth.

  But that was the glamorous part. General Frederick Dagon had lived a long life. The console had file after file from a diary he’d kept since he’d acquired his first host body.

  I was lost in my thoughts when the pink disk vibrated against the desk. Slowly, I approached it, curious as to how it came to life after I’d examined it. Text scrolled across the black strip and revealed a message.

  My breath caught as I read it: Keep fighting. Don’t give up. I’m always with you. Zoe.

  I picked up the disk and re-read the message again and again. Somewhere in the capital, Zoe had sent me this message. She was thinking of me right now. And she was still in control.

  “Is everything all right?” Quinn asked.

  I nodded and smiled. But the smile faded when fear pooled at the base of my spine. Oh no. Time was running out.

  “He’s coming—” I blurted. I immediately dashed to the console, closed all the open files, and made an emergency shutdown. Quinn put the Tactics of Combat back in the case, with the plastic disk shoved inside the box, and turned the lights out. Right after he closed the door to the office, I blacked out.

  Time’s up.

  When I woke up, I didn’t know if it were morning or night. With the heavy drapes covering the windows, all I could see was the faint embers of the grand fireplace.

  I lay on the couch in the master suite. With a groan, I sat up. My stiff fingers cracked as I touched the sensitive spot on my back. The pain medication Des had given me in the morning must’ve worn off already. How long had I slept? The last thing I remembered was leaving the General’s office with Quinn.

  I licked my dry lips, tasting the faint aftertaste of something bitter and strong. What had I drunk? I shuffled over to the window and pulled the drapes open. I expected to see the afternoon sky, but it was dark outside. Panic brewed in my stomach. How much time had I lost? If I’d passed out, wouldn’t Des or Rebecca have put me in the bed?

  I touched the dress I wore. It wasn’t the same one I’d worn that morning.

  Not far from the couch, a tray with a glass of brown liquid gave off a strong stench. Hard liquor. The meal had been partially eaten. A meal I had eaten. The hardened loaf of bread had bite marks. Asparagus tips surrounded half a cold steak on the plate. The bloody mass still had the dinner knife poking out of it.

  None of it should’ve surprised me anymore, but the anger came easily. That man had forced me to eat that—knowing I hated meat. He’d left the evidence of what he’d done in plain view.

  I suddenly felt faint. But it wasn’t just the food. The weight of the situation constricted my lungs, forcing me to suck in my breath through tiny gasps. Pacing the room didn’t help. Leaning over the couch didn’t help. I stretched along the bed until the pain in my chest lessened.

  But the realization of what happened remained: He didn’t force me to watch this time, contending with my rebellious words or efforts to control my flailing limbs. For the past several hours, the General had controlled me completely as if I hadn’t been there at all.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  When Quinn made an appearance the next morning for guard duty, I i
mmediately got to the point. “How do I find your brother?”

  He noted I’d covered my lips. “That came out of nowhere. I don’t get a ‘good morning, Quinn’?” he remarked jokingly.

  I kept my reply to myself. Des entered and took the breakfast tray. I was so tired, especially after what happened last night. The lack of sleep tickled my eyelids. I’d been awake all night, unable to sleep. I refused to lose another hour that should be mine and not someone else’s.

  Once Des shut the doors, I said, “He took over for a whole afternoon.”

  “Tate. I’m so sorry.”

  “He just took control, and I have no idea what he did with me. Well, I had drinks for dinner. How about some alcohol to go along with my rare steak?”

  “Don’t give up on me. You’re not alone.”

  My words came out sharply. “It’s really hard though. There are other Water Bearers who are suffering like me right now, and there is nothing we can do.”

  “Yes, there is. We’re going to find my brother and then we can get you some help.”

  I regretted how bitter I’d become, but I had no choice. There was no running away. No escape from General Dagon unless I tried whatever Quinn offered. So, for the rest of the morning in the study, Quinn gave me his plan in detail. With my access to the comm-console, we had to check the medical records database. With General Dagon’s clearance level, Quinn said I should get in with no problem.

  “Why medical records? Why not prisons?” I asked.

  “Pete had been working for the Resistance when he was captured and tortured by Dagon over a year ago.” He paused as his jaw tightened. “Most prisoners are executed, but the General wanted to gather intel by any means necessary. The Guild had my brother hospitalized after the interrogation to keep an eye on him. That’s all I know.”

  I nodded, not pressing that particular issue any further. “What about hospital security?” I asked. “Do you seriously think I can just look up records without the military police checking me out?”