The Skin Hunter Series Box Set

by Tania Hutley

  I feel sick.

  The feeling only gets worse when the director and president head back inside the Presidential Office, and Sentin goes with them. I need to talk to him more than ever, but there’s no way to make contact. I might have taken a chance and followed him toward the Presidential Office, but some of the knights are standing to attention in front of it.

  Instead I stumble away, dragging a pale and silent Cale with me. We push our way out through the tightly packed crowd without speaking. We don’t need words. He looks as shocked and helpless as I feel.

  Chapter Seven

  That night, my nightmares are interrupted by a loud bang that jerks me awake. The doctor’s house is shaking, and I jump out of bed, breathing hard, listening for more noise or any hint of where the danger is coming from.

  Doctor Gregory calls from her bedroom. “Are you all right, Rayne?”

  The shaking stops. Everything falls quiet.

  “What was that noise?” I shout back, not bothering to remind her that she called me by the wrong name.

  “Could have been another attack.”

  The light clicks on in the living room, sending a bright sliver under the door of Doctor Gregory’s spare bedroom where I’ve been sleeping. A moment later, I hear the holo in the living room come to life, and join the doctor in front of the screen.

  A news announcer is speaking, and she looks agitated, glancing from side to side. “…a loud explosion,” she says. “It’s too early to know what caused it, but as you saw a few minutes ago, the studio shook. We’ll give you a full report as soon as we know more.”

  “It had to be another bomb.” The doctor sinks into a chair. “I thought the director’s new soldiers were going to stop this kind of thing…” She trails off, glancing at me. The doctor watched yesterday’s ceremony on the holo. She was shocked by the public execution of the four sinkers, but doesn’t understand why I think the director’s new Knight Skins are so terrible.

  A sharp rapping comes from the front door, making us both jump.

  Doctor Gregory taps her band to switch off the holo, then turns to me, wide-eyed. “It’s almost three o’clock in the—”

  I put my finger against my lips, warning her to silence, though it’s a little late for that. The lights are on and we weren’t being quiet. Whoever—or whatever—is at the door must already know we’re here.

  Logic tells me it can’t be the director’s Soldier Skins at the door. They wouldn’t knock. But I was having a nightmare about them when the explosion woke me, and now I can’t shake the feeling they’ve come for me.

  “I’ll see who it is,” whispers the doctor, getting up and padding toward the door in her bare feet and pyjamas.

  My scarred face is too recognisable to take any chances, so I slip into the kitchen where I can’t be seen from the door. Poised to run, I listen to the click of the lock and the creak of the door opening.

  The doctor exclaims with surprise. “What are you doing here?” she asks.

  “I believe we need to talk.” The male voice is familiar.

  I let out a relieved breath and step back into the living room.

  The last time I saw Sentin out of his Reptile Skin was when we travelled to the arena for the Skin Hunter contest. He’s tall, a little lean, and his expression is as serious as ever. His angular face is not as perfectly regular as most tweaked floaters. His mouth is a little higher on one side and his nose is slightly too long. But he has a floater’s bronzed skin and unmarked hands. His dark hair is razored shorter than last time I saw him, in a defiantly severe style. A military style, I guess, that isn’t designed to be flattering. Still, in a city of perfect people, he somehow manages to be handsome. Maybe it’s the intelligence in his eyes.

  But I wish he wouldn’t wear those high-tech glasses, the ones that let him see when people are lying. Those glasses make me uncomfortable.

  He nods at me. “You wanted to see me?”

  “How’d you know I’d be here?” I resist the urge to tug self-consciously at the T-shirt and leggings I was sleeping in.

  “Where else would you be, Milla?” His gaze goes to Rayne’s band that’s still on my wrist. “With that band, you couldn’t sleep in a shelter even if you weren’t wanted for murder.”

  His matter-of-fact tone takes the sting out of his words. I’m not surprised he called me by my real name. He probably knows everything about me.

  “Come and sit down.” The doctor waves him toward the couches in front of the holo. “You’re out late. Did you hear the explosion?”

  Sentin sits stiffly on one of the couches. He’s wearing all black, like he has every time I’ve seen him out of his colorful Reptile Skin. His fitted black trousers and shirt accentuate his angular body. “A bomb was planted in a police station in Old Triton. The blast was strong enough to bring down the New Triton street above the police station, and destroy at least one residential building.”

  Doctor Gregory puts her hands to her mouth and sinks onto the other couch. “Oh my Lord.”

  “Did you see the explosion?” I ask. For him to have seen it and be here so soon afterward means it must have been a lot closer than it sounded.

  He shakes his head, his sharp gaze on me as I pull out one of the chairs from the table and sit facing him. “I didn’t see it. But I knew it would happen.”

  “How did you know?” I ask, at the same time as the doctor demands, “You knew and didn’t warn anyone?”

  “I learned she was planning another attack, but I couldn’t discover where.” His gaze turns to Doctor Gregory. “I had no way to stop it, so I decided to use it. While her eyes are elsewhere, on the carnage she’s created, I could come here.”

  “Who do you mean?” The doctor’s voice wavers as though she’s afraid of the answer. “Do you know who’s responsible for the explosion?”

  Sentin blinks at her without answering. There’s only one person he could be talking about, but I understand why the doctor is struggling to believe it. After all, she worked for Director Morelle for years.

  “The director wouldn’t be involved in terrorist activity,” insists Doctor Gregory when he doesn’t reply. “Are you implying she blew up a building? Why would she do that? It makes no sense.”

  “She needs the war,” says Sentin. “Having an active enemy is helping her achieve her goals.”

  “I can’t believe she’s attacking her own city to perpetuate the war.” The doctor shakes her head. “That’s impossible.”

  “I don’t get it either,” I say, though I have no trouble believing the director would blow up buildings and kill innocent people. “She’s already rich and powerful. Why start a war? What’s she going to get out of it?”

  He gives me a disappointed look, like he expected better from me. “You need to ask? Look at what she’s already achieved.”

  “She’s made herself insanely popular with floaters,” I say. “But at the expense of sinkers, who are even worse off than before.”

  “It’s enabled her to create an army,” he says. “One that’s completely loyal to her. And President Trask’s placed himself in her debt. Without her help, he would have been swept out of power on a wave of fear and panic. He’s becoming her puppet, though even as a figurehead he won’t last much longer. The director’s plan for a coup is well underway. It will happen when she announces she’s taken control of Deiterra.”

  “She wants to take over Triton and Deiterra?” I lean back, looking up the ceiling, and let the full significance of the director’s actions wash over me. “Is she really that power hungry?”

  Sentin cocks his head. “Let me ask you something, Milla. When you were in your Leopard Skin, how did you feel?”

  “Alive,” I say at once.

  “Powerful?”

  “And strong.”

  He nods. “As did I. And I believe Director Morelle has been using a Skin for many years.”

  “Rayne… I mean, Milla said the same thing.” Doctor Gregory absentmindedly fiddles with a stran
d of her wispy gray hair. “The director could have made a Skin in her own likeness, but why would she bother? What’s the point of having a Skin that’s just like your real body?”

  “You’ve been working on the Skin technology for some time?” he asks.

  “I helped develop the technology, right from the early days, when Edward Morelle first conceived of the program. Believe it or not, I’ve been working on it for a little over thirty years.”

  Edward Morelle is the director’s grandfather. I had no idea he was the one who started working on the Skin technology. He died before I was born, but I learned about him in school, and there are statues of him everywhere. His picture hangs in every Morelle factory and shelter.

  “Have the Skins you transferred into made you feel more powerful?” Sentin asks her.

  The doctor shakes her head. “Not that I noticed. But I worked on the transferral technology, not the Skins themselves. My chip was coded to a specific Skin that was utilitarian. A testing device.” She walks over to the creepy robot head that still lying on her workbench, and picks it up. “A biological version of this, because we can only transfer consciousness into organic tissue. But the device I used was little more than a basic vessel with sensors that could be changed out. I could easily replace its eyes, for example, to test different sensory inputs.”

  “Using a Skin has the ability to alter brain chemistry,” Sentin says. “If the director has used one for a significant period, I suspect she feels superior to others. More than human. And therefore, entitled to rule.”

  His words rock me back in my seat. Is that why I’m stronger now? Because I’ve convinced myself I’m more than human?

  Sentin’s sharp gaze is on me. With those damn glasses on, I bet he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Feeling my face heat, I look away, down at my hands. What if I can’t trust my own thoughts? Did my beautiful Leopard Skin give me delusions? I don’t think I’m superior to everyone else, but I do feel like a better version of myself. Maybe that’s how it starts.

  “I’ve felt it, too.” His tone is unexpectedly gentle. “Wearing my Skin heightens my confidence. I must be careful to temper my thoughts, to ensure I don’t become reckless.”

  “Great,” I mutter. “So we’re both crazy.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sentin smile before. It’s a sight to behold. Without the serious expression he wears like a mask, he looks like a different person.

  “It’s what I was trying to study when Director Morelle fired me.” Doctor Gregory leaps to her feet and paces across the room. “When I saw your somatoform injuries, I tried to tell the director how important it was to determine the extent of the effect. She wouldn’t listen. But is it an expansion of the mind’s frame of reference that causes it? New neural pathways being created? Is it physiological, or psychosomatic?”

  I’m not sure whether she’s talking to us, or herself. I don’t understand a word she’s saying.

  “The director doesn’t need you to study it,” says Sentin. “She’s already researched the effect, and is using it in the new Skins.”

  I frown at Sentin. He’s so certain about everything. “How do you know so much?” I demand. “And why does the director seem to think you’re on her side?”

  He doesn’t look upset by my question, but Sentin never lets much emotion register on his face. “I’ve made myself invaluable to her. I needed to, in order to get close.”

  “How’d you do that?”

  He considers me for several long moments, and I have no idea whether he’s going to answer. Before he can, Doctor Gregory speaks up.

  “I don’t have the equipment here to manufacture a Skin’s components.” She taps her cheek with one finger, absorbed in thought. “I could examine your brains, but there’s only so much we’ll be able to measure without the means to stimulate the same neural centers. Could you bring your Reptile Skin here, perhaps, Sentin? It’s a shame we don’t have your Leopard Skin, Rayne. I wonder if there’s a way to get hold of it? I could devise some tests to study what might be causing the effect.”

  She called me Rayne again, but she hasn’t noticed. She’s too focused on the impossible idea that she could get hold of my Leopard Skin.

  Sentin runs his gaze across the doctor’s cluttered workbenches. “If we can obtain one of the new Skins, do you have the equipment here to enable us to transfer into it?”

  She makes a dismissive gesture. “That would be simple. The difficult part will be getting access to imaging equipment to track your neural processes.”

  I shake my head impatiently. “What are you both talking about? We need to stop the war, not waste time with scientific tests. And why would we want to transfer into one of the new Skins? We should be working out ways to sabotage the director’s plans. Maybe we should report the director for using an illegal humanoid Skin. Or get the Fist to broadcast what she’s up to, so it can’t be covered up.”

  “I’m afraid President Trask has no power over the director any more.” Sentin pushes his glasses further up his nose. “And with Sub Zero shut down, the Fist have lost their voice. Besides, we can’t accuse Director Morelle of crimes without proof.”

  “Then what do we do? If you’re right, and she’s the one blowing up Triton, we can’t let her get away with it.”

  Sentin nods. “If the director achieves her goal of absolute control over Triton and Deiterra, things will only get worse. We’ll suffer hardships we can’t currently conceive of. Hardships even Old Tritoners can’t imagine.”

  The intense look is back on his face. Sentin has a slow, thoughtful way of speaking that makes me believe every word he says.

  “How do we stop her?” I lean forward on my chair, hoping he has an answer. Things are already becoming unbearable for sinkers. We can’t let her go on like this.

  “We need to confront Director Morelle—the real director—in her private apartment. That’s where her human body will be.”

  Doctor Gregory frowns. “She’s never allowed anyone access to her apartment. Her elevator is the only way up, and she’ll have security protocols in place. Besides, even if you could find a way in, how would you convince her to change her plans?”

  Sentin turns his gaze on the doctor. “Getting into her apartment is the only course of action which ensures—”

  “Shhh.” I jerk my head toward the door, my stomach clenching as I catch a familiar sound. “Turn off the lights. I hear something.”

  “What—?” the doctor starts to say, but I jump up and grab her arm.

  “Turn off the lights,” I hiss. “Quick. It’s stompers. They’re coming this way.”

  She taps her band and the living room plunges into darkness. The sound of boots on the sidewalk is getting louder, so she and Sentin must be able to hear it now too. Stompers are marching in unison, and it sounds like there’s at least a dozen of them. Are they coming here to arrest me?

  “I’ll take a look.” The doctor starts toward the front door.

  “Stop,” I lunge to grab her.

  “Don’t open the door.” Sentin pitches his voice just as low.

  She frowns at me, pulling away from my hand. “I’m just activating the window.” She touches the controller next to a section of wall by the front door, and it becomes transparent.

  The figures outside aren’t stompers, but a squad of knights. They’re marching down the sidewalk directly across from the house, and their boots have a metallic sound.

  I shrink back, ducking behind a table. If they come up the doctor’s front steps, where will I go? The house shares its back wall and one side wall with another property, and the living room windows look out onto a small strip of grass that’s visible from the street. If I jumped out the window, they’d easily spot me.

  “Don’t worry,” whispers the doctor. “It’s one-way glass. We can see out, but they can’t see in.”

  “The Skins’ senses are exceptional,” Sentin murmurs from behind me. “They may be able to see and hear us in spite of the nature of
the glass.” When I glance back, I see he’s hiding too. It’s only because my vision is so good that I can make him out in the darkness.

  I turn back to the soldiers in time to see one of them turn its head and stare toward us, as though it can make us out. Its eyes are bright yellow with small black pupils. They’re closer together than human eyes would be.

  A chill of fear runs over me. The sound of the knights’ marching is a metallic version of the noise stompers’ boots make, but at least stompers are human. These things? They’ve been designed to hunt and kill.

  “They’re going past,” mutters the doctor.

  I stay hidden until the last of them has marched past. Then I slowly straighten, wiping my sweaty hands on my leggings and breathing a silent sigh of relief that they don’t seem to be looking for me or Sentin. Maybe they’re just patrolling the neighborhood. Perhaps the director is tightening the noose for all the citizens of Triton, not just sinkers.

  Stepping forward to watch them go, I can’t help but notice that as the soldiers’ feet pound the sidewalk in perfect time with each other. They must have trained hard to be so in sync. Or maybe the director made the Skins to communicate silently with each other, like ants that use chemicals so they can all work together.

  “My brother’s in one of those Skins.” I turn to Sentin. “He was in one of the director’s academies and now he’s one of her so-called volunteers, using a Knight Skin.”

  Sentin steps closer. “The director has been planning this for a long time. She started funding her private schools six years ago, specifically to train her soldiers.” His voice is pitched low, as though he’s afraid the knights might still be able to make out what he’s saying.

  “You said the Skins change people’s brains. What’s it doing to my brother?”

  “Imparting an increased sense of strength and power, just as our Skins gave us. And the director’s been experimenting with influencing and enhancing certain other emotions. Loyalty is the one she’s primarily focused on.”