The Skin Hunter Series Box Set

by Tania Hutley

  Disappointed, I head to the rec room. At least there’s food there, and thinking about Tori makes me extra grateful for the meal. Damn, but she’d love this place.

  Taking my plate to the couch, I sit in front of the holo, adjusting a cushion behind my back and making myself comfortable. In the shelter I’d be allocated a single squirt of stew from the machine, and if I wanted to watch the holo, I’d have to stand or sit on the dirty floor, so this feels impossibly luxurious.

  Without a band I need to turn the holo on manually, but then I just tell it, “Skin Hunter Contest,” and it finds the right segment.

  There they are, sitting in chairs lined up on a stage. It’s a talk show. Brugan has a wide, cheesy grin plastered on for the cameras. Cale’s smiling too, but only with one side of his mouth, like he’s forcing it. When he looks down, his hair drops over his eyes and casts them into shadow. He’s always so carefree, that look makes me wonder what could be troubling him.

  Aza’s wearing a deep red lipstick which accentuates the blue of her eyes and makes her even more striking. I’ve seen others as beautiful as her on the holo, but I’d always assumed it wasn’t real, that nobody looked that polished in real life. I mean, not everyone in Old Triton is ugly, but what beauty there is needs to fight to be seen through a mask of exhaustion, work-stained layers of baggy clothes, and rough haircuts.

  Aza’s willowy legs are crossed at the ankle, but one delicate fingernail taps the arm of her chair as though she’s fighting off boredom. Yeah, she’s not fooling me. I’m figuring out that bored expression hides an iron determination that reminds me of Tori’s, though I’d never have guessed it if I hadn’t seen her battling her way up the never-wall. She looked as bloody-minded as Tori did when she’d fight through the dinner line to fill a plate for us before the machines ran out of food.

  Aza seems delicate, but now I’m starting to know her, I can’t see her that way. It’s like she expands to fill all the space around her.

  Sentin looks his normal serious self, glasses and all. If only I could figure out whether he’s an enemy. In the shelter, I was good at spotting sharks. Here, not so much.

  My good eye is streaming so I look down at my plate and concentrate on eating. The mashed potatoes have to be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Rich and soft, and creamy.

  Director Morelle is sitting beside the interviewer. She says, “Of course the contest draw was random, so it was pure chance Sentin was one of the competitors chosen.”

  “Sentin, how does your father feel about you competing?” asks the interviewer.

  He’s a handsome man with ebony skin, startling green eyes, and blonde hair that falls to his shoulders.

  “I haven’t discussed it with him.” Sentin speaks as slowly as ever.

  “Surely you must have spoken?”

  I don’t get it. Why is the interviewer making such a big deal about Sentin’s dad?

  “I’ve been completing my doctorate, and my father has been busy with his duties. I’m certain he supports me. Deiterra only wishes to ensure nothing threatens the peace we’ve enjoyed for almost five decades. And the Deiterran parliament hasn’t yet come out with a formal statement about the Skins.”

  Could Sentin be the Deiterran Ambassador’s son? That would explain what he’s doing here. His mother’s probably a Tritoner.

  The director had to have chosen him for the contest to reassure our neighbors they have nothing to fear. Either that, or she did it to provoke them.

  “Let’s move on.” Director Morelle waves an impatient hand.

  “Of course.” The interviewer gives her a smile so white, it’s blinding, then turns to the others. “How do the rest of you like the Skins?”

  Brugan jumps straight in. “Incredible! My Skin is the strongest. It could tear the others to pieces.”

  I’m expecting to see Aza give him a withering look, but she’s obviously holding back in front of the camera. “My Skin is amazingly agile,” she says, ignoring Brugan. “Its speed is what makes it so deadly.”

  The interviewer says, “Of course, when we use the word ‘Skin’, many of our viewers won’t know what we’re talking about. The net is full of speculation and rumor. You’ve released no official description of what they’ll be like, have you Director Morelle?”

  “I haven’t,” says the director.

  “Will you tell us about them?”

  Director Morelle smiles. She looks back to the camera, and I drop my eyes to my plate, both to rest them, and because her gaze makes me uncomfortable. Her stare cuts right though the holo, through the distance between us, as though she’s staring straight into me, studying my thoughts.

  “Most of your audience should already know about the transferal technology. As to what the Skins look like, I don’t want to spoil the surprise. All I can say is that the contest will be a showcase for what they can do. It will be broadcast live across the country, so millions of people will witness their unveiling. I know you’ll be impressed.”

  “You’ve been trying to obtain approval to release Skins for sale. Do you think President Trask is close to agreeing?”

  By the smooth way the director starts her reply right after the interviewer has finished asking, I get the feeling this was a question she supplied him herself.

  “Certainly. We expect to go into full production following the contest. The Skins you’ll soon be able to buy will be smaller than the ones you’ll see in the contest. They’ll be strong and agile, but fit into your everyday life.”

  “And you’re not concerned about condemnation from Deiterra?”

  “When they watch the contest, the Deiterrans will see the Skins aren’t weapons and don’t violate our treaty.”

  “Is the Deiterran ambassor attending the event?”

  “I’ve invited him. I hope he’ll accept, and confirm for himself that the Skins will benefit all humanity.”

  I raise my eyes just in time to see the interviewer turn to the others. “Tell me, are you looking forward to the contest?”

  “I sure am!” Brugan again. “I’m going to win.”

  Aza rolls her eyes.

  The interviewer leaps on it. “You don’t agree, Aza? You think you’re going to win?”

  “Yes, I do.” She crosses her long, slim legs the other way.

  “And you two?” He looks at Cale and Sentin. “You’ve both been quiet. Do you think you’re going to win the contest?”

  Cale hesitates a moment too long before he nods.

  Sentin clears his throat and says, “Yes. I will win.” It makes my own throat go tight, because the way he says it, I can’t help but believe him. He says it with perfect certainty, like he’s weighed the different options and arrived at an unshakable fact. I can’t let him win. But if I were betting on the contest, I’d be putting my money on him right now.

  I’ve lost my appetite, so I move my plate off my lap and onto the floor. There’s only crumbs left anyway, and over the last couple of days, I’ve figured out that people in New Triton don’t lick their plates clean.

  The camera zooms in on the interviewer. “It sounds like you’ll have a battle on your hands. I’m certainly looking forward to watching.” He seems to remember something. “...And to playing the vReal game, of course.” He picks up a small plastic disc from a table next to him. “And here it is! The eagerly awaited game, Skin Hunter, which is out on the same day of the contest?”

  He makes it a question and Director Morelle nods. “That’s right.”

  “Security’s been tight around this game. Nobody, but nobody, has been able to play or even see an advance copy. I can hardly believe I’m holding this one.” He pretends to slip it into his pocket. “Perhaps I can...?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  He pulls a face, hamming it up for the camera. “Have you all played it?”

  “I have.” Brugan’s grinning so wide I’m sure any minute his fat lips are going to split open.

  “You’ve just made millions of viewers jealous, Brugan!
Can you tell us anything about it?”

  “I’m afraid they’re all sworn to secrecy,” Director Morelle cuts in. “But we’re taking advance orders right now.”

  “That’s right!” The interviewer holds the disk up to his face so the camera gets a good shot. “Don’t forget to order the Skin Hunter game now, folks. And if you haven’t yet bought your tickets for the contest, I’m afraid it sold out weeks ago. But as the director said, it’s being broadcast live on b-Net.”

  “And watch out for our dedicated new Skin store opening soon in New Triton,” adds the director.

  The interviewer goggles at her. “A store? In New Triton? Can you give us a date, Director?”

  “We’ll be ready to open as soon as President Trask gives approval.”

  The interviewer widens his green eyes at the camera, and as I’m sure she’s planned for him to do, he says, “I hope the president approves it soon, folks, and I bet everyone watching does too. Are you tuned in, President Trask?” He titters, and I can tell he’s wondering if he’s gone too far.

  Director Morelle’s smile grows wider. The way her lips draw back to show perfect white teeth reminds me of the wolfish grin of Brugan’s Skin. It makes me shiver.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I wake with a jolt, my senses straining for any sound or movement. I’m glad I didn’t obscure the window glass before I went to bed, because the moonlight glow coming through the window lets me scan the room.

  What time is it? And what was it that woke me?

  A soft rapping sound makes me jump. Someone at the door. I wait, heart pounding, and a moment later there’s another knock. Whoever’s there isn’t going away.

  “Rayne?” The voice is muffled, but unmistakably male.

  “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me. Cale.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I need to talk to you. Open the door?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Rayne. I want to show you something.”

  “Show me what?” I get up and go to the door, but there’s no way I’m opening it. Not in the middle of the night with nobody around. I’m not stupid.

  “You need to see it for yourself.”

  “What time is it?” I ask, glancing at my dead band.

  “Just after midnight. You have to come with me. It’s not far.”

  “Why?”

  He sighs so loudly I can hear it clearly. “Come on, Rayne. What do you think I’m going to do, attack you? I’m trying to help you, remember?”

  “Then help me in the morning.”

  “It’s something you’ll thank me for, I swear.”

  If it were anyone but Cale, I wouldn’t consider opening the door, not for a second. But Cale keeps insisting on trying to protect me, though it should be obvious I don’t need help. It doesn’t make sense he might suddenly want to hurt me.

  “Wait a minute.” I pull on a pair of jeans, then zip a light jacket over my T-shirt so I can tuck my blade into my pocket. The weight of it makes me feel ready for whatever might happen. But as I open the door I really hope I’m not going to regret breaking every rule Tori drummed into me.

  The bright lights in the hallway hurt my bad eye. Cale’s fully dressed, leaning on the wall like he has every right to be there. His cocky half-smile stops my breath in my throat. Does he have any idea how good-looking he is?

  “That’s better,” he says. “Come with me.” He starts off down the hall toward the rec room, motioning me to follow.

  “Why?”

  He turns to see I haven’t moved and sighs again. “Just come on.” When I still don’t budge, he strides over and grabs my hand. “Trust me.”

  His touch sends a jolt of pure, animal awareness through me, a thrill of contact that goes deep into my core. I jerk my hand free, my face burning, and turn away to hide my confusion.

  What’s wrong with me? Men can’t be trusted. Most women who live in shelters learn that lesson the hard way.

  “You okay?” His voice is gentle.

  I take a breath and nod.

  “Will you trust me, Rayne?”

  I don’t want to trust him. But there’s something in his voice that turns my insides soft, and I hear myself ask, “It’s not a trick?” Officially the most idiotic question in the world, and I can practically hear Tori groan. Like he’ll admit it because you asked?

  “No trick. I wouldn’t lead you anywhere bad, Rayne.”

  He seems sincere. And maybe I’m wrong, but I can’t imagine Cale would be able to lie that well. I hesitate for a moment longer, then in spite of myself, I follow him down the hall. Are there cameras down here? There must be. I’m not sure we’re supposed to be wandering around at night.

  “Cale, where are you going? I don’t want to—”

  “Shhhh. Come on. It’s in here.”

  He stops in front of the door I caught him coming out of yesterday morning and takes out his electronic stick.

  “I’m not going in there. If we get caught they’ll kick us out.” I scan the ceiling, certain an alarm’s going to go off. There must be security cameras so they can monitor the building. Somebody’s got to be watching.

  “I’ve snuck in here for the last couple of nights, and nobody’s said a word.” The door clicks and slides open, and he turns to me with a grin. “What’s down here is well worth the risk. You’ll see.”

  He slips inside and motions me in. Behind him it looks like a perfectly ordinary hallway with an office coming off one side. So what’s so important?

  “Rayne?”

  I don’t know what to do.

  I’ve come this far, I guess. If I go back to my room, I’ll spend the rest of the night awake, wondering. So maybe just a quick look.

  With one hand in my pocket, fingers curled around the handle of my blade, I step through the door, peering down the dark hall. There’s nothing here. One more step, and the door clicks shut behind me. Suddenly it’s so pitch black, I can’t see a thing. My heart thuds, drumming a million beats per second. “What’s going on?”

  “Shhh, keep your voice down. This way.”

  He reaches out and fumbles for my free hand. I feel the jolt, the closeness of him, the heat of his skin. This time I don’t pull away, but let him guide me through the darkness, though I pull my blade free and hold it ready in my other hand.

  He walks confidently, like he knows exactly where he is and what’s around him. There’s some light coming in through some windows and my eyes are adjusting, but not enough to see more than vague shapes.

  “Cale, stop.”

  “Okay. This’ll do.”

  I yank my hand out of his and grip my blade tighter, ready to use it if I need to. I can hear my own ragged breathing. My chest is tight, every muscle tense.

  “What are you talking about?” I demand.

  “Lie down, Rayne.”

  “What?”

  “Right here.” He takes my arm and tries to tug me to the floor but I jerk away, fumbling for the wall behind me.

  “I’m leaving. Don’t try to stop me.”

  He’s a dark shape on the floor. His tone becomes weary. “Can’t you trust me, Rayne? Not even this much?”

  “No.” There’s the wall. Edging along it, I keep the blade between him and me.

  He sighs. “Okay, listen. This hallway runs right next to the training room. There’s only this wall between us and the lab rooms where they keep our Skins.”

  “So?”

  “So, the transferal must work on proximity. If you’re close enough to your Skin, you can transfer into it.”

  I freeze. Realization breaks over me like a wave. “Oh,” I say, and my heart lifts, beating hard for an entirely different reason. “You’re saying I can transfer into my Skin from here? I don’t need to be in the pod?”

  “Try it.”

  Keeping a wary distance between us, I stick my blade in my pocket and slide down the wall so I’m sitting on the floor with my back against it. The instant I close my eyes,
my mind reaches out, searching for my Skin.

  And finds it.

  When I open my eyes I’m the leopard.

  The lab room has no windows but I can see in the dark. My vision is every bit as sharp as during the day. When I take a step, I feel a flood of joy, the sense of euphoria that comes with being the leopard. It feels so good! I want to leap off the metal disc and run into the training room, but I don’t dare. The computer screens around me have numbers falling down them in a constant stream. The Skin is being monitored. What if stepping off the disc sets off an alarm? Or the numbers change and somebody notices?

  This is too risky. I need to stop. To transfer back.

  But how can I bear to be human, when I can be the leopard?

  “Come on, Rayne.”

  Cale’s voice from the training room pulls me off the disc. As soon as I step off, the digital readouts stop. Shit. Well, I’ve done it now.

  Padding into the training room, the moon through the far windows is so beautiful it makes me feel giddy. It’s drawing me toward it, pulling me into its light.

  The room’s alive. I smell Cale as much as I see him. He’s stretching each leg as though waking from a long sleep, obviously loving the feel of being in his Skin as much as I am. His tiger stripes catch the moonlight.

  He crouches on his haunches, then pounces forward as though hunting an imaginary mouse. His mouth opens, his tongue lolling out between his two long front teeth. He smells like pure happiness, such a wonderful scent that I laugh. Then I’m leaping too, springing forward over moonbeams for the pure fun of it. It’s not a training room, it’s a playground. And there’s never been a more beautiful night or a better Skin to play in.

  But why would Cale bring me here? We’re competitors. If he kept it to himself, trained in secret, wouldn’t he have an advantage?

  “Cale, why did you—?”

  “Let’s talk later.” Joy shines out of him like a visible glow. “Come on, Rayne. Race you!” He leaps forward, running toward the never-wall.

  A surge of excitement forces my doubts away, and I take off after him. The ground soars under me. Ahead is the never-wall. I haven’t climbed it yet, but I bet I can get to the top first time. My paws barely touch the ground. I leap onto the wall, loving the power in my muscles as I spring from ramp to ramp. The wall’s changing around me, but I can see the changes rippling down and I know when to jump. My speed and strength are exhilarating.