The Skin Hunter Series Box Set

by Tania Hutley

  I swallow, remembering the carnage. I’ve seen more than my share of violence, and Rayne bled to death in my arms. But I’ve never seen killing on that scale.

  The stick of plastic Franco was chewing on has miraculously survived the fight, and he talks with it clenched between his teeth. “The knights have been doing worse things to us.”

  I meet Cale’s gaze. “Could the Skins be making the kids more ruthless? Changing their brains, like Sentin said?”

  “Maybe.” He sounds grim.

  The others look questioningly at me, but I can’t explain. My chest feels too tight to breathe. Is William in one of the Skins that are still out there tearing the Deiterrans to pieces? Has the director already turned him into one of her killing machines?

  “Show them the clip of the pods.” I nod at Cale’s wrist. “Do any of you know where this room is, the one where the soldiers transfer into the Skins?”

  Cale activates his holo and shows them the news clip of the windowless warehouse with its rows and rows of pods.

  As soon as the image appears, Tori nods. “We’ve already talked about it. Spade thinks he knows where it is.” She looks at the toothless man.

  Spade pushes up his knitted hat to scratch his greasy hair. “Could be the Meat Locker on one-fifty-seventh in the Packing District. That’s where they used to store the crappy protein that goes to the shelters. I worked there for a while, loading the so-called meat onto trucks.”

  I let out a relieved breath. Finally I’m making some progress. “My brother’s body will be there. He’s one of the director’s soldiers.” I ignore Spade’s shocked grunt. “Now all I need is to get in. I’ll take a look at the factory from the outside, figure out if there’s a way.”

  The sound of gunshots seems to be tapering off. Perhaps the slaughter is over.

  Cale shakes his head. “The whole area will be crawling with knights.”

  “That building could be a good target for the Fist.” Gareth raises his eyebrows at Tori as though asking her opinion.

  “A target?” I shake my head. “No way. Not with my brother there.”

  “Hey, don’t worry.” He holds up both hands. “I’m not in the business of killing kids. But if we can find a way to evacuate it and blow up the pods, I’m on board with that.” He strides to the table and sits down next to Tori. The smile he shoots her warms my heart, and it gets even warmer when Tori smiles back. If a squad of knights walked in, I’m not sure either of them would notice. They’re too busy glowing at each other.

  But after a moment, Tori manages to drag her gaze to me. “Milla, you have to tell Gareth the story you told me. What’s been happening to you, and how you got here.”

  I press my lips together. Stealing a dead girl’s band isn’t something I’m proud of. I don’t want to share it with a bunch of strangers.

  “You know I was the saber-toothed tiger in the Skin Hunter contest?” Cale says after a moment. “Well, Milla was the leopard. And we’re pretty sure Director Morelle started the war herself, blaming Deiterra for the stuff she blew up. She built a Skin army and brainwashed a bunch of teenagers so she could invade Deiterra and rule the world.” When I catch his eye, he gives me a little shrug and a hint of a grin. “Long story short,” he adds. “There’s more, but that’s the highlight reel.”

  I nod gratefully. “That pretty much covers it.”

  They’re all gaping at us. The stick Franco was chewing is hanging motionless from his bottom lip. Karen’s wide nostrils are flared, making then look enormous. And I can count how few lower teeth Spade has left.

  Gareth sits back in his chair and makes a whistling sound. “Highlight reel,” he repeats with a laugh, his eyes crinkling.

  “Told you it was a good story.” Tori looks smug. “Anyone else but Milla telling it, I’d say they’d been drinking too much street brew.”

  “Director Morelle’s brainwashing kids?” Gareth’s smile fades, but I get the feeling it’s just under the surface, waiting for any chance to reappear. He has no frown lines, but plenty around his eyes. I wouldn’t have thought the leader of the Fist would have much to smile about, but his wide grin seems as much an identifying feature as his bushy beard, or the enormous, calloused hands he’s resting on the table.

  “Her soldiers,” I say. “Including my brother.”

  “We think she can influence their thoughts,” explains Cale. “Something to do with transferring into the Skins.”

  “That’s why I have to get him away from the director. Break him out of the Meat Locker.”

  “I understand.” Gareth gives me a sympathetic look. “And I wish I knew a way to do that. But a factory full of soldiers will be the hardest place in Triton to walk into, let alone get out of.” He seems genuinely sorry, like he really cares. I can see why his entire team were ready to throw themselves at a knight to save him.

  Franco pulls the plastic stick out of his mouth. He and Spade are sitting on the beds, while Keren is still by the window.

  “If the Skins change people’s thoughts, tonight’s target was a good choice,” says Franco.

  “We’re blowing up the factory tonight,” explains Tori. “The one where they make the Skins.”

  I draw in a sharp breath. “You can’t. That’s where my mother works.”

  Gareth leans back in his chair. “Don’t worry, all the workers have been briefed. With the number of sinkers the knights have been killing, everyone wants to get them off the streets. The grunts at the factory are the ones who told us that inside their ears is the one place the knights don’t have armor. Gave us the means to finally be able to take them down.”

  Keren’s nostrils flare, and she folds her arms, leaning back against the wall. “Soon as the director realizes that’s how we’re killing them, she’ll change that.”

  I cross to the table, still focused on Gareth. “I don’t get it. How can you blow up the factory without killing anyone?”

  “Most night shifters aren’t going to turn up to work at all. A few minutes before the bomb goes off, the fire alarm will be triggered and the few who show up will evacuate. They know it’s going to happen and to get out fast.”

  “What if not everyone gets out in time? Or the bomb explodes early?”

  “Hey, it’ll be okay.” Gareth gets up from his seat to put his large hand on my arm. His voice is soothing. “Sure there’s a little risk. But we need to stop the knights from being manufactured. Then we might stand a chance of reducing their numbers.”

  I pull away from his hand, stepping back. “Ma’s the one you’re putting at risk.”

  “Why don’t you call her? Make sure she’s not going to turn up for work tonight. Then she’ll be safe.”

  “Even if you manage not to kill people, destroying the factory will leave Ma without a job. She’ll starve.”

  “We’ll look after her.” Tori motions around the room. “This isn’t much, but we’re surviving.”

  I blink at her. She was the one who called it a stinking hovel, and with seven people in it, the tiny room feels impossibly crowded. The air in here is so pungent I can barely breathe. And it already has five beds crammed into it. Adding more will mean there’s barely room to walk.

  “What about the hundreds of other workers?” I ask. “You going to squeeze them all into safe houses? How do you plan to feed them?”

  Her eyes narrow. “Would you rather the streets were overrun with knights?”

  “Better than putting hundreds of people out of work. You know they won’t all survive.”

  “People are dying already, Milla. You haven’t been on the streets the last couple of weeks. You don’t know how bad it is.”

  “I don’t like this. There has to be a better way” I fold my arms and glower at her. Tori’s parents died years ago, so she’s used to being on her own. Besides, it’s not her mother she’s putting in danger.

  “I understand how worried you are.” Gareth’s eyes are creased with sympathy. “I wish we didn’t have to take such drastic act
ion. But this will make things better, I promise.”

  Cale moves over to me. He doesn’t try to touch me, but stands next to me, shoulder to shoulder. “I don’t like it either,” he says. “Too much can go wrong.”

  “I hear you.” Gareth spreads his hands. “But it’s already set up. The explosion’s scheduled to go off half an hour after night shift starts, and there’s no turning back.”

  It’s early afternoon, and night shift doesn’t start until eight. That’s several hours I’ll spend worrying.

  I can’t hear gunshots any more, so perhaps the fighting’s over and all the Deiterrans are dead. Hopefully the coast is clear, because if I stay in this stinking room, I’m going to suffocate.

  “I’m going to take a look at the Meat Locker,” I say, turning for the door. “Scope the place out and see how hard it might be to get inside.”

  Tori stands up. “Milla, please don’t—”

  “I need to do something, or I’ll go crazy.”

  “Be careful,” says Gareth.

  To my relief, Cale doesn’t object or tell me how insanely dangerous it is, or how reckless I’m being. He just follows me outside. “I’m coming with you,” he says.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cale and I head away from the wall, taking a wide circle around where the knights were fighting, and keeping to the darkest, most narrow alleyways. The packing district is two hours away on foot, and if Cale weren’t with me I’d have to walk. Instead, he uses his band to call us a cab.

  Safely inside, we drive silently along streets that used to teem with people. The food stalls, the app sellers, the racks of cheap, colourful clothing are all gone. A few sinkers walk briskly with their heads down, hurrying to wherever they have to be, and occasional groups of rough sleepers are tucked into dark corners. But compared to what it used to be like, the streets are eerily quiet. They look darker than ever without the bright signage of stalls, and the portable, blue-flamed burners the noodle sellers use to cook their offerings.

  But we haven’t gone far before our cab passes a squad of black-armored knights out patrolling. Then another squad. In fact, the number of knights on the streets almost outnumber the people.

  We circle the block and make sure the coast is clear before getting out of the cab.

  At the farthest end of the street from the Meat Locker are the remains of some street stalls that once sold food and drinks. Their owners built them on the sidewalk, attaching them to the brick wall of the building behind them. The structures were ramshackle to start with, and now they’re empty shells with splintered walls and smashed counters.

  We stop behind one so we can peer around it at the Meat Locker. The building is only just visible at the other end of the street. Like all the big factories, the old food manufacturing center is housed in the base of a giant scraper that soars up into New Triton. In New Triton, it’s probably a fancy apartment building, or filled with expensive stores and plush offices. The Old Triton base that supports it is made of thick concrete reinforced with steel, and has no windows at all.

  There’s only one entrance into the factory, a door with two knights guarding it. I bet more knights will be inside the building, keeping watch over the hundreds of pods that hold all the director’s soldiers.

  Just because it looks like there’s no way to get inside, doesn’t mean I’m going to give up.

  Though this street is darker than most, there’s only one group of five rough sleepers anywhere near it, and they’re huddled in an alcove just past the ruined stalls, a little closer to the Meat Locker than we are.

  There are a lot of rough sleepers in Old Triton, and the ones without jobs mostly survive by hustling for credits, selling sex, or beating people and robbing them. They hang out in the darkest corners, and their eyes adapt so they can see better than their marks.

  Before my leopard changed me, I would have steered well clear of them. But I’m stronger now, and a lot less afraid. If I lie down with them, I’ll be able to watch the Meat Locker’s door and work out if there’s any way to do the impossible and break into the place.

  I can tell by Cale’s expression that he doesn’t like the idea. He has his jacket hood tugged over his head and his sleeves pulled down to hide his hands. Not many floaters visit the darkest parts of Old Triton, and even in the gloom, a knight’s enhanced eyesight would pick out his bronzed skin and tweaked face.

  “These streets are crawling with knights,” he whispers. “Haven’t you seen enough?”

  I have my own hood pulled low, and a bandanna tied over my nose and mouth. When I speak, my voice is muffled. “I need you to hide in here.” I motion to the remains of the fallen-down stall we’re sheltering behind. It looks like there’s enough space to duck under what’s left of the shelves and not be seen. “I want to watch for a while to see if anyone goes in or out of the Meat Locker.”

  “Milla, you can’t stay out here, in full view. It’s not safe.”

  “I’m stronger and faster than I used to be, remember?”

  “You’re still no match for a knight.”

  “Trust me. Please.” As the words leave my mouth, I’m all too aware of what I’m asking. The one thing he said he couldn’t do was trust me.

  But to my relief, he steps into the ruined stall and crouches behind what’s left of the counter. “I don’t like this,” he mutters.

  “Thank you.” I head further down the street toward the Meat Locker to where the group are sleeping. Without a word, I fit myself into the alcove with them.

  “Who’re you?” slurs one of the rough sleepers. She’s an old woman with a red face that’s pockmarked and sagging. She’s propped against the wall, holding a tin cup that’s got to be full of street brew. Judging from her sunken, bloodshot eyes and sagging cheeks, she’s been drunk for more years than I’ve been alive.

  “Nobody,” I mumble. With my face mostly covered, I doubt she can even tell if I’m a man or woman.

  The old woman cackles as though I’ve said something hilarious. “Nobody,” she repeats. “Nobody’s here.”

  Sitting next to her, a large, bearded man spits on the sidewalk. “Shut it, Gama,” he growls. Gama is Old Triton slang for grandmother, but he doesn’t use it in an affectionate way, and there’s no way these two are related.

  It takes several seconds for Gama’s bleary eyes to focus on him, and when she manages it, she raises her cup as though he’s asked her to propose a toast. “I’ll talk ‘til I die, then I’ll talk more once I’m dead.” she slurs. “Big men try to shut me up. Where those men now? In a worse hell than this, if there is one.”

  My body tenses. Is the old woman asking for violence? If there’s anything my years in the shelter taught me, it’s to be wary around men like him.

  But the bearded man just grunts and spits again. The movement extends his neck, and I catch a glimpse of a tattoo under his shirt. It’s the Fist’s closed fist symbol, and these days I’m guessing that’s a dangerous thing to have. He has a bottle of his own and is clearly trying to drink himself into unconsciousness.

  The other three—two men and a woman—are curled up together on the concrete, probably already asleep. Maybe I lucked out and found a group who’re just here to rest. They might be night shifters at a factory who either couldn’t find a place in a shelter, or decided to take their chances outside. Sleeping in a shelter is a lot less dangerous, especially these days, but the air’s a lot fresher out here. I wonder if they realize they picked a place that’s so close to the knights’ base.

  I hear footsteps. Metallic boots on concrete, marching in unison. It’s coming from around the corner, and getting closer.

  Knights are coming.

  I slump down further until I’m lying on the sidewalk with the sleepers. Holding my breath, I make my breathing slow and even, pretending to be asleep too.

  When the knights come around the corner, all I can see from under my hood is their shiny black boots. I watch the boots march past the fallen-down stall where Cale’s hid
ing, letting out a small breath of relief as they move away from it without looking inside. As the knights get closer to me, it feels like their shadows fall over me, chilling me, though there’s no sun for them to cast a shadow.

  Maybe it’s because I’m lying down that they seem so big, but the monsters look enormous.

  Four have marched past us, heading toward the Meat Locker, and the last two have drawn level with us, when the old woman speaks up.

  “Knights,” she says, and cackles. “You want a dragon to kill or princess to kiss? Drink with me, eh? I’ll start a dragon, become a princess. Just like magic.”

  The four who’ve gone past, stop and turn. The last two also stop, but they’re so close they tower over us.

  “What are you talking about?” The question comes from one of the knights. The tone is contemptuous, but the voice is young and reedy. The boy using the Skin can’t be much older than sixteen.

  Gama laughs even harder, slopping her drink onto her hand. “Knights not have balls?” She snorts. “You sound like you don’t have—”

  She makes a strangled sound. All I can see is her body lifting. The knight must have picked her up by the front of her jacket. It lifts her right up until her feet are kicking above the ground.

  “What did you say?” the knight demands in its reedy voice.

  I force myself not to move. There’s nothing I can do to help the old woman. I doubt I’d stand a chance against a single knight, let alone six of them.

  “Hurt her,” demands the second knight in what’s definitely a girl’s voice. “Make her sorry.”

  There’s a soft cracking noise, then the old woman lands on the sidewalk, her head smacking hard against the concrete. The sound makes me flinch, but Gama must have been dead before she hit the ground, because her head is twisted too far around.

  The girl-knight laughs. It’s a delighted sound, a joyful giggle. It chills me more than anything else. Even more than seeing the Deiterrans slaughtered, or hearing the soft cracking sound of Gama’s neck snapping.