by Tania Hutley
Although the animal is slim, its four limbs look powerful. Two long fangs hang from its mouth, curving below its muzzle. Its claws are thick blades. It could swipe my head off with those claws. Or rip it off with its fangs.
“For this Skin, we used the DNA of a prehistoric mammal, a recently-discovered species of saber-toothed tiger. It was the largest and most powerful feline to ever walk the earth. So strong, it hunted mammoth.”
Cale grins. “Mammoth? Then I guess the others should be easy to beat.”
If Brugan had said that, it would have sounded like a threat. But Cale says it like he’s kidding. While the others all share a determined intensity, Cale has a relaxed air. Like he’s a spectator, while everyone else is playing to win.
“We mixed the tiger DNA with an animal called a fossa, to give it incredible agility. A native of Madagascar, the fossa would literally run up and down trees.”
Huh. So his Skin is both powerful and agile. And those fangs are impressive.
Cale runs his hand through his hair, a wide grin on his face. And when he transfers into the beast, its lips curl into a strange, almost-human smile that, though it shows off its fangs, still seems wrong. He seems too good-natured for such a fearsome Skin.
Do I see disapproval in Director Morelle’s face? Maybe it’s my imagination. But when she tells him to transfer back into his body, I catch an undercurrent in her voice.
Cale had better watch out. The director doesn’t seem like someone who stands for second best.
It’s good for me if Cale doesn’t have a killer instinct, maybe he won’t be so hard to beat. Shame about the other three.
8
Finally I get to transfer back into my Skin. Doctor Gregory stays with me, giving me advice. Other white-coated doctors help the others.
Doctor Gregory calls the tentacle chair a pod, and tells me it has sensors in it to monitor my vitals and make sure I’m okay. The rubbery fingers are meant to move my body around to keep my circulation going. She says the pod will keep me hydrated and inject me with nutrients if I need it. I don’t like the sound of that. Like I trust a chair that can shoot me full of who-knows-what.
But by the time she tells me, I’m already the leopard again, and I’m taking my first steps. Four legs instead of two. It takes me a while to work out which ones should step when, but it feels good when I get it. I feel strong.
I keep looking over at the pod to check it’s not doing anything to my body. I look way too vulnerable lying there, like I’m asleep in the shelter with nobody keeping guard. But there’s no way I’m transferring back. Not while I’m getting the hang of smells like shapes that waver in the air, waiting for me to figure them out. Not when I can feel the incredible strength in my limbs and the promise of speed that already feels like freedom.
As absorbing as it is, I’m distracted by the others testing their Skins. And there’s a faint smell that keeps bugging me. It’s a scent that’s strange and new, but at the same time weirdly familiar, like it’s stirring up a memory buried deep in my brain. It smells good. What is it?
“Find your center of balance, Rayne.” Doctor Gregory calls my attention back to what I’m doing, but still I’m distracted by that scent. It’s coming from the far end of the big room, where Cale’s taking his first steps as a saber-toothed tiger.
The scent of feline.
The realization makes me shudder.
Just because I’m wearing a big cat’s Skin, better not mean I’m drawn to other cats. I don’t want an animal’s urges.
Cale’s eyes catch mine, a flash of gold from the other side of the room. He can smell me too, I know it.
Leopards can’t blush. Thank goodness. Still, I turn away so fast I almost get my four paws tangled up.
“Are you all right?” asks Doctor Gregory.
Maybe. Yes. Now I know what that scent is, I can ignore it. Except it chafes against my senses, as annoying as an itch. I turn my back on Cale and concentrate on how I’m moving, trying to make walking with four legs into something that comes naturally. I’m doing better now that I’m moving away from Cale. I’m even leaving Doctor Gregory behind.
When I reach the other end of the room, the stench of the devil bear gets stronger. Brugan’s left his helper behind too, walking fast and easily, but of course he’s only got two legs to worry about. He stops when I meet his eyes, then grabs an iron bar from the top of a rack of weights and grips it at both ends. His muscles bulge and he grunts with effort. He’s trying to bend it. Typical. Only a floater would destroy a piece of equipment to show off.
Brugan makes a show of it, baring his long fangs as the metal groans and bows under his strength. The muscles in Brugan’s hairless upper arms stand out like thick slabs of meat. Each arm looks bigger than my head. When he’s bent the thick metal bar into a u-shape, Brugan holds it up so I get a good look, then tosses it aside.
He snarls. “Come here, little kitty. I’ll bend you like that bar.”
It’s strange to hear a human voice coming out of his wolfish mouth. It hadn’t occurred to me to try to talk, but now I reply, “You’d have to catch me first.”
My voice sounds like my own, only huskier. There’s definitely some feline growl in it. In spite of my big talk, I hope Brugan doesn’t come after me, because I’m still in danger of getting my paws tangled.
Brugan lunges at me.
I leap back, avoiding his claws but stumbling when I land. Need to remember I have four paws now, and a tail I have to start using for balance. Still, I make it far enough out of Brugan’s reach that he stops.
“Here, kitty, kitty.” He lets his mouth hang open and his tongue roll out as he gives a rough laugh. Disgusting.
A soft voice comes from behind me, making me jump.
“May I offer one piece of advice?”
It’s the shimmering Reptile Skin. It examines me as intently as its owner did when I was introduced to him. Sentin’s scent was there all along, but I hadn’t taken any notice. I’m not used to paying attention to my nose yet, but I’d better get used to it fast. I should use every advantage my leopard gives me.
The reptile’s long arms are loose at his sides. He doesn’t look like he wants to attack, but Sentin’s lizard’s face is as difficult to read as his human one.
“What advice?” I’m tense, ready to leap away. Trying to watch both him and Brugan, who’s still close enough to be dangerous.
Sentin is standing upright like a human. Even with his knees bent, he’s tall enough that he needs to lower his head to murmur in my ear.
“The most important rule of war is that you should never let yourself get drawn into a battle you’re not certain you’ll win.”
Without waiting for a reply, he straightens.
At the same moment, Brugan feints toward me. I leap back, away from both of them. Brugan laughs again. The look on his face is pure contempt, but what Sentin said makes sense. This is war, and I’m not ready for battle yet. And although I’ve got no idea why Sentin is giving me advice, I’m going to take it.
I head away from Brugan to practice. By the time Doctor Gregory calls a stop, I’m doing a slow lope, gradually building up speed. I’m dying to go faster, but I’m being careful not to trip over my paws.
“Come on, Rayne. It’s getting late.”
Can’t be late, I’ve barely started. But when I look outside, it’s dark. Where did the day go?
The others are just as reluctant to transfer out of their Skins. Brugan’s left behind a pile of twisted bars, and he’s making running look easy. Turns out the black rectangle in the floor is a giant treadmill, and Brugan’s the only one who’s tried it today.
Like me, Cale’s still getting used to four paws.
Aza’s fluttering at the base of the silver climbing wall. Her wings look incredible, but she’s not getting that high off the ground. Judging by how hard she’s trying, I’d say she’s determined to use them for more than just to help her run and jump.
Director Morelle must have sl
ipped out of the room at some stage, but I didn’t notice her go. My leopard senses are so good, I should have smelled or heard her leaving. But my poor brain feels overloaded by all the smells and sounds, not to mention the sharpness of vision that makes everything look incredible. I can’t pay attention to everything.
Doctor Gregory calls to everyone again, telling us to go back to our lab rooms and transfer back into our bodies. She and Sentin are standing between me and my lab. As I walk past, I’m conscious of the reptile’s head turning to track me. I wonder what it’s like looking through those silver eyes? I haven’t noticed Sentin testing his strength or speed. He stands in a bent-legged crouch, so I’m not sure how easily he’ll run. Maybe his Skin is designed to move faster on all fours?
In my lab, a big metal disc is set into the floor. Stepping onto it brings the screens around me to life, with 3D graphs and numbers flashing up too fast to read.
I hate transferring back into my human body. The ache in my side’s going to drive me crazy. And as soon I open my bad eye and try to blink the graininess away, I’m wishing for my perfect leopard vision back.
Standing up, I feel heavy. And I’m so slow! Did the air get as thick as syrup while I was in my Skin?
The others head out of the training room. Sentin’s first, still talking with Doctor Gregory. Cale is just behind, as though he’s trying to listen in without being noticed. What is Sentin doing spending so much time with the doctor? Does he think he’s going to get some sort of advantage? Maybe Doctor Gregory’s giving him tips about how his Skin works.
Now I think about it, I should talk to her more, especially as I’m clueless about the contest. Tomorrow I’ll stick close to her and try to dig out some details.
Ahead of me, Brugan speeds up to catch up with Aza. He glances back at me and speaks loudly enough to make sure I hear. “How’d you like having to spend the day with a sewer rat? I’m going to make her learn her place.”
Aza looks back as well. Her top lip curls and her nostrils flare, but for once the scorn isn’t aimed at me. “Don’t try to drag me into anything, Brugan.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t need help to send her back down the hole she crawled out of.” Grinning, he cracks his knuckles. “I can handle it myself.”
Aza sighs. “I was wondering if you were as stupid as you look, and now I know. I couldn’t care less about her. She’s no threat to me. None of you are.”
Brugan stops dead. Aza keeps walking. I hesitate. If I keep going, I’ll be level with Brugan. But if I stop to avoid him, we’ll be the only ones left in the training room.
I speed up, hoping to get past and out the door ahead of him. I’ve only taken two steps when he spins around, blocking my path. His face is turning red. What Aza said obviously stung, but it’s not her he’s going to explode at, it’s me. Great. Why is it such an insult to him that I’m here? Because I’m from Old Triton, or because I’m ugly?
The door closes behind Aza.
Brugan leans forward, fists raised. “They’ll need to carry you out of here, sewer rat.”
Shit. I don’t want to fight him. Tori’s voice rings in my head, her rules for survival. “Fights aren’t fair, Milla. The strongest fighter usually wins, and no matter how hard you train, men are just born stronger. First rule is to steer clear of trouble, but if you need to fight, hit fast, hard, and dirty. Use any trick you can to drop him, then run. Don’t stick around to watch him get up.”
I bend my knees and shift my weight so I’m light on my feet, like Tori taught me. Dropping him and taking off is my only chance. If I let him get up again, he’s sure to demolish me. Good thing he’s big and heavy. I’m probably quicker, and thanks to Tori, I’m sneaky as hell.
Brugan lunges at me and his fist comes at me faster than I expected, flying at my face. I dodge, but his knuckles catch my cheek, snapping my head sideways. Like after any punch, I have a moment of disorientation, the shock and pain of being struck blanking out rational thought. But I’ve been hit enough times that my mind clears fast.
The triumphant gleam in his eyes tells me Brugan thinks he’s got me. And when he swings again, he almost does. Desperately, I drop low, sliding under his fists, moving forward, not back. I lash out as fast as I can with one foot, going for his knee.
Just one chance, so hit hard.
I miss.
But when he jerks sideways, my leg snags his and we both go down. Because he’s heavier than me, he hits the ground harder. I squirm away and leap up on my feet again in a second, the pain of the fall barely registering.
He’s still dragging himself off the ground when I make it through the door.
Max is on the other side. He jerks around when I burst through and his expression is every bit as nasty as Brugan’s.
“Sewer rat,” he hisses.
I can’t fight him, not with any number of sneaky tricks. Instead of running down the hall like I want to, I make myself walk. Back straight. Eyes straight ahead. I walk past Max like he’s not there, like he doesn’t exist. Doing my best to pretend my heart’s not fighting to escape my chest. That I’m not terrified Brugan’s going to burst out after me, and Max will help him take me down.
I walk on the edge of a blade, my entire body tensed to run. But the door doesn’t open and Brugan doesn’t chase me. And when I round the corner I let myself stop, put one hand on the wall and take a breath. I’m okay.
Except I’m not okay. Dammit, I’m angry. For a few short hours in the training room, I was a powerful creature with claws and teeth. For the first time in my life, I felt strong.
Brugan ruined that feeling.
I close my eyes a moment to make a silent promise. Soon Brugan and I will be competing against each other. And when the time comes, no matter what kind of contest it is, I swear I’ll beat him.
9
The rec room has a kitchen at one end, a dining table in the middle, and what Doctor Gregory calls a ‘chill-out zone’ at the other end. Couches are arranged around a holo, with five vReals lined up against the wall.
A delicious smell is wafting out of some covered serving bowls in the kitchen. I don’t know if the chair was doing anything to my real body while I was in my Skin, but my stomach’s rumbling, so I guess it didn’t feed me.
Brugan slouches in a little after I do. An air of menace comes off him like the stink of his Skin. He glowers at me, but I doubt he’ll try anything with Doctor Gregory here.
“Help yourselves to dinner,” Doctor Gregory says. “Feel free to watch the holo, but don’t use the vReals just yet.” She puts on a motherly tone. “And make sure you head back to your rooms early because you’ll have a busy day of training tomorrow.” She heads toward the door. “If you need anything during the night, either call my band, or talk to the guard posted outside the training room.”
Great. Only I can’t do the first, and I’d rather not do the second. Hopefully I won’t need anything.
After the doctor goes, I hold back, waiting to see what Brugan’s going to do. Being good at reading people is an essential skill in the shelter, and I think I’ve got him pegged right: all bluster and no balls. As long as nobody knows I bested him in our scuffle, his pride shouldn’t prickle hard enough for him to risk getting thrown out of the contest. I don’t think he’ll attack me where anyone can see, but caution is second nature. I’ll stay wary until I know for sure.
With the doctor gone, the others scramble for the food. Aza gets there first. “Meatballs, of sorts.” Disgust fills her voice. She checks another bowl, bending to sniff it. “The worst vegetables I’ve ever seen, and low-quality rice. Must be from one of the mass-production factories. Revolting.”
Brugan lifts the lid of another bowl. “Bread rolls.” He grabs one. “They’re hot.”
“They look cheap and they smell nasty.” Aza picks one up with the tips of forefinger and thumb and drops it onto her plate, her delicate nose wrinkled.
I watch them dish out as much food as they want, and it’s not until Brugan sits a
t the table and digs into a full plate that I head over to the serving bowls. Even mimicking the way the others all served themselves, I still feel self-conscious about heaping my plate up, as though somebody’s going to catch me taking too much. I’ve never chosen how much I get to eat before, and this is my first meal in years that hasn’t come out of a dispensing machine.
A bonus: there’s a paring knife in the cutlery rack. Small but sharp. Perfect.
Once the others have all sat down, I pretend to drop something so I can bend over and slip the blade inside the leg of my jeans, tucking it into my sock. The cold metal against my ankle is comforting.
Brugan’s fat lips twist as I sit at the table with the others. “We’re going to be forced to look at that?” He nods at my face. “It’ll make me sick.” Even as he says it he’s shoveling a piled fork into his mouth.
I’ve heard plenty worse, so it’s not hard to ignore. But Cale snaps, “Don’t be an asshole, Brugan.” Like I need him to stick up for me.
Aza glances at me, then looks away. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to get involved. Her lips are pressed together but her eyes are straight from a fairy tale, and her face is as flawless as Rayne’s was. Does she know how stunning she is? Looking at her makes me feel worse about my damaged face than any insult from Brugan ever could. What would it be like to have that beautiful face? To catch someone staring with admiration instead of disgust?
“It’s a burn,” says Sentin, his tone matter-of-fact. “It wasn’t treated properly, because the skin puckered as it healed.”
His plate holds a neat, even circle of rice with matching circles of vegetables on one side, and meatballs on the other. It looks like a math diagram. He uses both knife and fork to surgically remove a tidy mouthful, then chews slowly.
Brugan turns his snarl onto Sentin. “Who asked you, Deiterran?”
I just about choke on meatball. Sentin can’t really be a Deiterran. Maybe it’s a weird insult I’ve never heard of?
