by Tania Hutley
I suck in a deep breath as a rush of exhilaration fills me.
My power is all but endless.
To change the world, all I need to do is command it.
Two
“Can you heal it?” I ask the scientist.
My beautiful Leopard Skin is lying on its side on a gurney in front of me. Looking at all its wounds makes me wince. Large clumps of its thick fur are missing, and the fur that’s left is matted with dried blood.
“Of course, Madam President. My team will work around the clock to ensure both the Leopard and the Reptile Skins are at full capacity as soon as possible.”
I let out my breath. “Thank you.”
We’re in a lab room on the twenty-sixth floor of the Morelle scraper, in the Skin Research and Development division. I don’t like this floor, because down the hall is the lab where the red-haired doctor was going to cut into my Skin so she could watch my human body bleed. Thankfully, this room isn’t like that one. It has banks of computer screens taking up one wall, and cabinets full of equipment covering another.
Sentin is back in his human body. He wanted me to stay in the penthouse apartment so we could talk through endless details about the giant corporation I now own, but I needed to come here first, to make sure my Leopard Skin is in good hands.
“Seeing as we’re doing such extensive repairs to the Leopard Skin, would you like us to upgrade it?” asks the scientist. He’s been tweaked, of course, but the tightness around his eyes hints that he must be an old man. He has a slow way of speaking that reminds me a little of Sentin.
“What kind of upgrade?” I reach out to stroke a patch of unbloodied fur on my leopard’s muzzle, resting my fingertips against its soft fur.
The scientist rubs his chin, as though considering the options. “We can improve all aspects of the way it functions. But I assume you wish to keep the integrity of its form?”
“Are you asking if I want to change the way it looks?” My first reaction is to tell him no way. My Leopard Skin is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, and he’s asking if I mind him making it uglier?
On the other hand, if he can make my Skin stronger, wouldn’t it be worth making changes? After all, my accident made me ugly, but that stopped mattering so much after I became stronger.
“Let me clarify.” He pushes his hands into the pockets of his white coat. “Working on the Knight Skins, we perfected the integration of a ceramic composite with biological material. We can introduce a ceramic subcutaneous layer beneath the top epidermis, to render the Skin resistant to wounds such as the ones inflicted here.”
“That was supposed to clarify it?”
He chuckles, as though he thinks I’m joking with him. “The introduction of a protective barrier will require us to remove the existing fur and skin before reintegrating it with the new material. But we can perform the other enhancements using non-invasive techniques.”
I blink, trying to understand what he’s saying. “You can make the leopard bulletproof?”
“It won’t be entirely bulletproof. But the new layer will provide protection against all kinds of bladed weapons and projectiles, including low-calibre ammunition. If you want greater resistance, the thickness of the introduced ceramic will need to increase, which may affect the Skin’s appearance.”
Faced with the terrible wounds in front of me, how can I say no? But even as I nod, I sink my fingers protectively into my leopard’s fur. “Do as much as you can.”
“You’ll be pleased, Madam President. I believe we can exponentially increase the Skin’s strength and endurance as well. We’ve made significant advances in improving muscle density and performance.”
I run my fingers up to the top of my leopard’s head. Even there, patches of blood mar its beautiful, thick fur and I have a powerful urge to pick the dried clumps out with my fingers. But with the scientist’s eyes on me, I shouldn’t let myself linger. Instead I turn away and leave the lab room.
The hallway I walk into is the one I ran down when I was escaping this building. It was only a few days ago, and it feels even more recent when I look through the glass doors of lab rooms and see things I’ve glimpsed before.
In one lab is a pair of human legs wired up to a heart floating in a large glass cylinder. In another, a metal animal skeleton has a human face. A third holds a row of brains on a long table, each with hundreds of needles bristling out of it.
I don’t go into any of those lab rooms to investigate what kind of experiments the scientists are doing here, because I’m not sure I want to know. But there is one room I stop in front of, and my heart beats faster as I look inside.
This is the room where Doctor James was going to slice me open. She’s inside, bent over a small table, peering into a microscope. Her red hair is scraped back from her face just the way it was when she sliced into my leopard and I swore I’d kill her.
I push the door open. As I go in, she turns with a surprised expression. “President Morelle.” She ducks a small bow, then extends her hand to shake mine. “It’s a pleasure to see you. I’ve been hoping for a chance to tell you in person how sorry I am for losing the—”
“You’re fired.” I ignore her outstretched hand.
“Excuse me?” Her eyes widen and her hand drops.
“You’re fired. Get your things and leave.” I keep my tone brisk. Would I be taking so much satisfaction in doing this if I weren’t in this Skin? It’s impossible to know. But firing her feels surprisingly good.
“But… please, Madam President. Let me—”
“Leave now, or I’ll have you thrown out.”
Her mouth opens and closes, and the blood drains from her face, turning her cheeks gray. “May I know—?”
“No. Just leave.” I step back and motion to the door.
She swallows hard, but walks to the door, hesitates, then goes out. I take one more look around the small lab room. Its antiseptic smell turns my stomach, but there’s no trace of the gurney she had me tied to, or the scalpel she used to cut into me. I’m going to make sure nobody else ever gets carved up in here.
My band vibrates, and when I touch the sensor, the control panel that appears is still confusing. It takes me a moment to figure out how to accept the call, then the sharpest hologram I’ve ever seen appears above my band. Sentin’s human face is displayed in perfect 3-D, as though he’s managed to poke his head through the control panel to talk to me.
“You’re still on level twenty-six?” he asks. “Cale’s here. I’ve granted him access to the penthouse.”
“Thanks, I’ll come up.”
When I take the repaired elevator to the top floor, I find Cale staring out of the large living room window, gaping at the incredible view.
“Hey.” I’m so relieved he’s okay, I rush forward and throw my arms around him. But he stands stiffly, making the hug awkward, and after a moment I let go.
“You don’t sound like Milla.” He frowns at me, as though he thinks Edward Morelle might still be in the President’s Skin, trying to trick him.
“The Skin makes my voice sound like this.”
The lines in his forehead ease, and his wary expression relaxes. “You have an Old Triton accent.”
“Have I? Hopefully nobody else has noticed.” I speak more slowly, rounding my vowels and pronouncing every word. “Do I sound more like President Morelle now?”
He nods. “Is your human body okay?”
“Fine. The doctor patched it up, and now some high-tech machines are healing me.”
My human body is in Edward Morelle’s pod, the one he died in. I watched Sentin kill him in it, and now my body’s lying there instead. I think that’s creepy, but Sentin convinced me it was the safest place to keep my body, inside Edward’s secret room behind a panel in the library, hooked up to all the machines that kept Edward alive for so long.
Sentin had Edward’s body sent to the morgue without identification, and paid off anyone who might question how anybody could possibly live t
hat long, or realize the most famous man in Triton must have faked his own death all those years ago. Even his ashes are now gone, scattered into the wind.
Funny to think that the man whose statue is in the middle of the central town square, and whose picture is in the lobby of all his factories, ended his days so anonymously.
“I can’t believe we can see into Deiterra.” Cale turns back to the window. “Look at all that green space. Is that farmland?”
“I think so.” There’s a heat haze shimmering the air, making the fields more difficult to see. But the enormous trees in front of the wall are still impressive, even from this height.
“New Triton looks so gray in comparison.” He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “This is crazy.”
I don’t know whether he’s talking about being able to see into Deiterra, or about everything that’s happened. Either way, he’s right.
“I was worried about you,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d be able to climb this far up the outside of the building. There were too many knights to hold off for long, and I was afraid I hadn’t given you enough of a head start.”
“I couldn’t have made it up here without you.” I take his hand, threading my fingers through his. He’s not as richly bronzed as I am, but his hands are as smooth and unscarred as mine. Twined together, our fingers seem to match for the first time.
But he grimaces and gently pulls his hand away. “It’s too strange. I know it’s you inside that Skin, but I can’t look at it without seeing her.”
“I understand.” I let out a silent sigh. It’s going to be hard to keep my distance. I used to hate being touched, but since the night we spent together in the safe house, I’ve been craving to feel his lips on mine again. Shame it’s not going to happen while I’m using Morelle’s Skin.
He stares back out the window, but his expression has changed and I can tell he’s not thinking about Deiterra anymore. “It’s brave of you to take on that Skin and everything that goes with it. But how long will you need to use it?”
I let out my breath, deciding how to answer. I don’t blame him for hating this Skin after everything President Morelle put us through, but once he knows how much good I can do, he’ll understand why it’s necessary.
“Let’s sit down and talk.” I motion to the couch. “I’m not used to being in these shoes.” Morelle’s wardrobe is limited to high-heeled shoes and business suits. Edward Morelle used this Skin for years, but for some reason he doesn’t even own a pair of jeans.
“How about you take the shoes off and we can talk while you show me around?” His tone is casual, but I can tell he doesn’t want to sit close to me.
“It’s me,” I say. “I’m not Edward Morelle.”
His mouth lifts in an apologetic half-smile. “Still.”
His reaction to me now is so different to when we were in the safe house that a lump forms in my throat. But it’s stupid to feel rejected. Kicking my shoes off is an excuse to turn away for a moment, to push my hurt feelings down where they won’t show. And when I look up again, I can make myself sound casual. “Okay. I’ll take you to see Felicity. This way.” I lead him to the hallway.
“That’s Edward’s granddaughter, right?” When I glance back to him and raise my eyebrows, he adds, “Sentin told me.”
“Where is Sentin?”
“He said he was going to your office.”
“Did he?” No doubt Sentin’s putting whatever schemes he has in motion. In a way, he’s the one who has control of Triton now, though I still have final sign-off to any changes he wants to make.
“Felicity’s been living here alone all these years?” asks Cale as we walk to her toy room.
“All her life. Edward stole her identity, so he couldn’t let anyone know about her.”
“And you’re going to keep her up here?”
“It’s all she knows. Would it be more cruel to leave her here, or to take it away from her?”
The door to Felicity’s toy room is closed, and I knock before opening it. Felicity is sitting on a cushion on the floor in front of her dollhouse. “Poppa,” she says with a flash of delight. Then her gaze goes to Cale and her smile drops away.
“Poppa is what she calls me,” I murmur to Cale. “She’s not used to seeing new people.”
“Hello.” Cale gives her one of his brilliant smiles. “I’m Cale. It’s nice to meet you, Felicity.”
She draws back. “Hello,” she mumbles, turning her face away and hiding behind her long gray hair. She’s sixty-four years old, but she’s sitting on the floor with her legs tucked in beside her as though she were a child.
“It’s okay, sweetie.” I make my tone soothing. “Cale’s a friend, and he’d like to see your dollhouse. Will you show him the people living inside it?”
As I step forward, I feel the breeze coming in through the broken window in Felicity’s bedroom. Sentin said he’s picked out a couple of loyal soldiers he trusts to come up to the apartment and fix all the damage we caused, including repairing the secret rooms that Edward Morelle built into the walls. But he wants to hide Felicity away while they work. I hate the thought of locking her in a room, but he’s promised it won’t be for long.
“Do you have a whole family living in your house?” Cale moves closer to Felicity, peering into her large dollhouse as though he’s fascinated by it. Inside, miniature people are walking around, performing the same tasks over and over. A mother rocks a small baby. A father endlessly stirs a pot on the stove. Two children chase each other around a miniature living room, and I’ve watched them for long enough to know they’ll never catch each other. Now I’m over my initial wonder at the intricacy of her toys, they’re actually a little depressing.
“They’re my family.” Felicity stares suspiciously up at him, as though he might be thinking of stealing the tiny robots.
“Of course they are. What are their names?”
As she tells him, she starts to relax. And when he keeps plying her with questions, her expression grows trusting. She’s shoeless, and wearing baggy clothing. One of her full-sized humanoid robots is watching from the corner, sitting unnaturally still in a chair, with its hands folded in its lap. Her robots wash and dress her, feed her, and entertain her. Felicity isn’t used to having real people around, but Cale has a natural charm.
“The little girl is Mellina, and she can run away,” explains Felicity. “She can climb right up onto the shelf.” She pulls the small doll out of its house and puts it on the floor. It immediately strides over to the large shelving unit against the wall, and starts climbing a miniature ladder. “Sometimes I tell her to dance with the others.” On a higher shelf, Felicity has an entire troop of miniature robots that twirl and dance in an endless ballet performance. The small girl from the dollhouse climbs higher, seemingly determined to join them.
Cale glances at me, and I can read his expression as though his thoughts were printed across his face. For more than half a century, Felicity has been living a miniature life. She must have played with these toys more times than I can count, yet she’s still absorbed with watching her dancers twirl in tiny circles. Her confinement has shrunk her world in more ways than one, and I can tell Cale finds that thought as disturbing as I do.
“I’ll show Cale your bedroom,” I tell her.
She nods, but stays where she is, staring fixedly at the little robot as it climbs the doll-sized ladder.
In Felicity’s bedroom, the wind is blowing harder, whistling through the broken window. Felicity’s robots have been hard at work. The blood and broken glass have been cleaned off the floor.
“This is where I crashed through the window to get in,” I tell Cale. “The glass is thick enough that it would be hard for any normal person to break. But Sentin’s going to have all the windows upgraded anyway so they’re even thicker. So nobody can ever break in that way again.”
Cale raises his eyebrows. “Is he expecting another leopard?”
“He said he wants to ‘prepar
e for every eventuality’.” I use the same words Sentin did, making quote marks with my fingers. “Having Felicity here makes him uneasy. He’s paranoid somebody’s going to find out about her.”
“She can’t sleep in here with the window broken,” Cale points out.
“The new glass has to be specially made. In the meantime, there’s another bedroom down the hall.”
He nods, stepping forward to stare through the broken window. The wind blows his scruffy black hair back, and the sun strikes his face, highlighting its sharp angles. His face is tweaked, designed to be perfect like everyone else in New Triton. Still, I can’t stop staring at him. It’s not just how handsome he is. It’s because, if I look deeply enough, I can catch glimpses of his thoughts in his brown eyes.
Nothing about Cale is secretive. I always know where I stand with him, and usually it’s one of my favorite things about him. But when he turns his gaze to me now, he’s not looking at me like he usually does. He’s looking at me as though I’m President Morelle, and the distance in his gaze makes my heart ache.
“Was it Sentin’s plan all along for you to use that Skin?” he asks.
I swallow, taking a moment to make sure my voice sounds normal. “I think so. He said he can’t be President Morelle, because he has to negotiate with Deiterra. The imperator will only talk to him.”
Cale frowns. “Could he have meant for all this to happen? Predicted it, even before he entered the contest?”
“It sounds far fetched, doesn’t it? But I really do believe he must have predicted some of it.” Because Cale doesn’t want me to touch him, I run my hand over Morelle’s gold band instead, exploring the intricate patterns in the metal. As fancy as it is, it’s a poor substitute for his touch.
Cale’s gaze follows my fingers, his eyes troubled. “I asked you before how long you were planning to use that Skin. You didn’t answer.”
“As long as it takes to change things.”