by Tania Hutley
“Get up,” hisses Sentin.
I’m lying in a section of broken wall, where Morelle must have thrown me. I drag myself onto four paws, pulling myself free of the wall. I feel like I’ve broken every bone in my body.
Morelle launches herself at Sentin, moving faster than I would have guessed possible. She slams into him so hard, he stumbles and falls backward. She lands on his chest and wraps her hands around his throat.
I gather myself, but instead of leaping on her, I stagger, then fall into her. At least I manage to push her off Sentin.
Though she’s relatively small and looks deceptively slender, she throws me off as though I weigh nothing. I land heavily, more pain exploding through me than the fall deserves. Scrambling up, I lurch at her again, trying to swipe her with my claws. She’s too quick. She dodges to the side, then throws herself onto my back, forcing me to the ground. Hooking her elbow under my throat, she chokes me.
Her feet are braced on either side of me, holding me down, and her grip is like iron. I struggle for breath, fighting to dislodge her, but her hold is too tight.
My strength ebbs, and a stabbing pain intensifies in my lungs. The more I gasp for breath, the more painful it gets. My head feels like it’s going to explode.
If I die in my Skin, will my real body die too?
The world darkens and I feel myself slipping away.
Then the pressure around my throat eases, and I manage to drag in a breath that burns going down.
Morelle’s weight slides off me as she crumples to the ground. Dragging myself away from her, I brace for her to spring up again and attack me. But she lies still. Her eyes are open, but they’re staring up at the ceiling, not looking at me.
Coughing, and sucking in more air through a throat that’s on fire, I stretch my nose toward her. I can detect her chest going up and down as she breathes. But now she looks like one of Felicity’s robots. Her face is wiped clean of emotion. She’s an empty shell with no consciousness.
Sentin is standing next to the glass coffin, the scanner still in his hand. On unsteady paws, I stumble to him.
The lid of the coffin has been thrown back. Inside is a hollow-cheeked, ancient corpse. The dead man’s skin is a horrible, greenish shade of gray. His dry skin is puckered over his bones.
Sentin towers over the coffin, but my nose is much closer, and the chemical stench coming from the body is overpowering. So faint that it’s almost undetectable underneath the pungent chemicals, I catch a whiff of human sweat.
The corpse stirs.
I jerk back, shocked, as the dead man’s breath rasps in through an ancient windpipe, and his scrawny chest lifts. His eyelids flutter, then slowly open. His pupils look milky, but after a moment they seem to focus on Sentin and me.
How is he not dead?
Dozens of tubes feed into the coffin he’s lying in. The machines must be feeding him and keeping him alive—though the word doesn’t really describe the state he’s in.
“Hello, President Morelle,” says Sentin.
The old man stares at us for a moment, then tries to speak. What comes out is a phlegmy rattle, so he coughs and tries again.
“You wiped my chip?” His voice is so dry and scratchy it’s hard to make out the words.
Sentin holds up the scanner where he can see it. “I did.”
“I gave you that Reptile Skin,” croaks Edward Morelle.
“You did,” agrees Sentin.
“My biggest mistake.”
Sentin nods. “One of many.”
Edward’s filmy white eyes close halfway, as though it’s too much effort for him to keep them open. “Should have realized how ambitious you are. How ruthless.”
“You’re the ruthless one,” I interrupt hoarsely, my throat still throbbing. “You created an army of monsters. You brainwashed my brother and turned him against us. You made William kill Doctor Gregory, and he almost killed Cale and me as well. My own brother!”
The old man draws in a rattling breath that sounds so full of phlegm I’m amazed he’s not choking. One of the machines is expelling gas with a long, slow hiss. I guess it must have kept his coffin full of oxygen. Now it’s all escaping into the apartment, and he must be finding it hard to breathe.
“You stupid girl.” Edward narrows his milky eyes at me. “You have no idea what damage you’ve done.”
My anger surges, strong and deep. I let out a low growl. “What damage I’ve done? I’m keeping you from making the lives of Old Tritoners even more miserable. I’m stopping you from killing us and setting your knights on us. Without you, millions of sinkers might have a chance at a decent life.”
He drags in another rattling breath. “I would have made things better…” He breaks off, coughing so hard that his frail body shakes. When he eventually stops coughing, all he manages is one word. “Deiterra.”
“Deiterra can’t be taken by force. Not the way you tried to do it.” Sentin sounds as calm as ever. “A conquered population will never be loyal to a ruler they’ve been forced to accept.”
“Need Deiterra.” The old man says. His eyes flutter, then open fully, as though he’s gathering all his strength to speak. “Make more Skins.” He drags in another breath. “Skins for everybody. Skins to live in. Need less people, but second child taxes don’t work. Skins do. No more children.”
Shocked, I sit back on my haunches, then wince at the pain of the gunshot wound in my flank. Sentin meets my gaze, and I can see the surprise in his eyes. Guess he doesn’t know everything after all. This is something he hadn’t realized.
“You think people wouldn’t have children if they had Skins?” I ask.
“You were experimenting with influencing thought patterns,” says Sentin in a thoughtful tone. “I knew your intention was to control the population, however I hadn’t considered you intended to limit procreation.”
“A better world.” Edward’s thin, bloodless lips twitch as though imagining it makes him want to smile.
“And you’d get to run Triton and Deiterra however you wanted, with everyone programmed to do your bidding.” I flick my tail angrily from side to side. “And what, nobody would die? All their human bodies would be encased in glass coffins forever.” He closes his eyes in weak agreement, and I keep going, the words coming out in a rush. “But who’d make the food to get pumped into the coffins? Who’d manufacture the Skins for their privileged owners to use? Old Tritoners, right? We weren’t part of your plan, were we? We’re just the grunts who do all the work.”
“Don’t need human workers. Just machines.” He coughs again. They’re hacking coughs that shake his whole body and look painful.
“So why use human workers now?” I demand. “In case you hadn’t noticed, your factories are full of them.”
“You need jobs.” What strength he had seems to be draining away, because his voice is becoming so quiet I can barely hear it.
“You think that giving us jobs is some kind of favor you’re doing us? You made us into slaves!” I flatten my ears against my head, peeling my lips back in a snarl.
He lets out a soft sigh. “Only want the best for Triton. Old and new.”
“No.” I glance at President Morelle’s Skin, sprawled on the floor. “Whatever lies you tell yourself so you can sleep at night, you have to know that’s not true. You never wanted the best for Old Triton. Nobody’s hurt us more than you.”
He stares at me for a long time, his breath rattling in and out of his lungs. Though his eyes are milky, I can still see the sharp intelligence in them. He called Sentin ruthless and ambitious, but those are exactly the words I’d use to describe him.
“You’re a monster,” I tell him. “I don’t care why you did any of it. You hurt everyone I care about. You deserve to be punished.”
Edward’s gaze goes to Sentin. “Something I don’t understand,” he croaks. “Why did you help me if you were going to betray—?”
Sentin puts his hand into the case. He clamps his long reptilian fingers over the
old man’s nose and mouth, cutting off what the old man’s saying.
I jerk around to stare at him. “What are you doing?”
Sentin doesn’t look at me or reply. He shifts his weight so he’s leaning on Edward’s face.
“Stop.” I swat him hard with one paw. “You can’t kill him. People need to know what he did. They need to hear the truth about the Skins, how they change people’s thoughts. There has to be some kind of a trial.”
Sentin stands his ground, his hand still clamped over Edward’s nose and mouth. “There’ll be no trial.”
“Don’t do it.” I shove him with my shoulder, trying to force him away from the coffin. I’m so weak, I can’t move him.
“It’s done.” Sentin takes his hand away. Sure enough, Edward isn’t breathing, though Sentin must have had his face covered for less than a minute. Killing him took barely any time at all.
I stare at Edward Morelle’s gray, lifeless face. The machines have stopped and the room has fallen silent. All the time I fought and struggled against the director, my hate built with each day. Now, his frail old body looks so small and weak, it’s hard to hold onto that hatred.
My throat feels tight. All this time I’ve wanted Morelle dead, but now he’s lying in front of me, I don’t feel jubilant or like we’ve won. My stomach is churning.
“Why’d you do that?” I don’t mean the question to come out so quietly, but the words are a whisper.
“Without his Skin, Edward was just a body in a case, unable to move or do anything for himself. When he transferred back into his human body, he must have experienced its pain for the first time in years. His joints were swollen and his organs had long since failed and been bypassed. The machines would never let him die, even if he wanted to. How long would a trial have taken? Did you hate him so much you’d want to see him suffer endlessly?”
I drag in a breath, steadying myself. Maybe Sentin’s right and it was better this way, but I’m not sure it was his choice to make.
“Edward said you helped him,” I say. “What exactly did you do for him?”
“To quell his suspicions and gain access to his experiments, I assisted his scientists with some mathematical formulas.”
Can I believe what he tells me? Sentin seems to be on our side, but I wish I knew for sure. If only he weren’t so hard to read.
I shake my head with frustration. “I’ve had enough mystery and unanswered questions. Please tell me what’s really going on here, Sentin. What is it you want?”
“The same thing you wanted. To end his tyranny.”
“But you’ve been planning this a long time. Since well before the contest started. Morelle’s dead, so what happens now? Don’t tell me you don’t have a plan for what comes next, because you always do.”
“President Morelle is not dead.” His voice is calm. “The Skin is here and I have a scanner.”
I gape at him. I must be slow in the uptake because it hadn’t occurred to me Sentin might want to take Morelle’s place. But of course, it makes perfect sense.
Finally, I understand why he’s done all this.
If he transfers into the President’s Skin, he’ll have absolute power.
President Morelle is running Triton. She has a giant corporation and unlimited funds. The remaining knights are loyal to her. As soon as he transfers into the Skin, they’ll be Sentin’s army to command.
“Of course, President Morelle will immediately order her knights to stand down,” he says. “She’ll also order urgent medical treatment for your human body. Using the President’s Skin is our only means of escaping this situation, and I believe it’s the only way to save your life.”
I barely hear him. The full implications are unfolding in my mind, and I’m struggling to catch my breath, feeling like the air has been punched out of my lungs. If Sentin becomes president he can change everything. He can make Old Triton safe and give sinkers a better life, providing them with everything Edward denied them. He can stop the war, or decide to take over Deiterra himself. He’ll have the entire world in the palm of his hand, and he can decide to either crush it, or transform it and make it better.
If only Sentin weren’t so impossible to read, maybe the thought wouldn’t make me feel like I was teetering on the edge of a cliff. If only I could trust that he has Triton’s best interests at heart.
“That was your plan all along?” I demand. “You did all this so you could become President Morelle?”
“Not me.” His silver eyes blink very slowly. “You will.”
Skin Dominion
Chapter One
“You need to become President Morelle,” repeats Sentin.
I sit gingerly back on my haunches and flick my tail from side to side, trying to wrap my mind around what he’s suggesting. I’m in pain, and the thought of becoming the President of Triton makes my head swim.
We’re in Felicity’s bedroom, at the top of the Morelle Corporation building. Though Sentin’s not as badly injured as I am, he’s favoring one leg, and blood has dulled the shine of his Reptile Skin’s jewel-green scales.
“Why me?” I demand. “Why don’t you use Morelle’s Skin?”
He blinks slowly, his eyelids coming up from underneath. “I had intended to. But I couldn’t bring my human body up to the apartment. Your body is here, so I can re-code your chip.”
My gaze drops to my battered human body lying on the floor next to President Morelle’s Skin. The window’s broken, and the curtains are billowing in the howling wind. Shards of glass litter the bloodstained floor around my body.
How did it come to this? All I ever wanted was to get my Leopard Skin back.
Okay, so that’s not entirely true. What I really wanted was to stop Morelle from destroying my family. But I also took back my Leopard Skin, and even though I’ve been shot in the chest and flank, and I’m in agony, I’m not ready to give it up.
“If I transfer into President Morelle’s Skin, I’ll rule Triton.” I say it out loud to hear how it sounds.
“You’ll only be the acting president,” he corrects. “And you need to transfer into the Skin quickly, so you can order her soldiers to stand down. Otherwise, they’ll come up here and kill you.”
I flatten my ears, staring down at the two bodies lying side by side. President Morelle’s Skin couldn’t be more different to my human body. I look like I urgently need a team of doctors to keep me alive, while the worst damage Morelle’s Skin suffered in our fight was a torn blouse and a cut in its side.
“I need a minute to think,” I tell Sentin.
“We don’t have time.” The scanner is in his long reptilian fingers, and he’s holding it too close to my human body for comfort. One pass over my neck with that thing, and he’ll wipe my chip and send my consciousness back into my body.
“One minute,” I insist.
As though to emphasize how short of time we really are, a loud grinding noise and vibration comes from under my paws. Sentin disabled the elevator which is the only way up to the penthouse apartment, and now the president’s soldiers are working on breaking through the floor. It sounds like they’re getting close.
I let out a huff of breath that turns into a growl. “I’m just a grunt from Old Triton. I don’t sound like Morelle. How can I act like her?”
“It won’t occur to anyone to suspect anything. When you pretended to be Rayne, everyone believed you, didn’t they? People see what they expect.”
“And once we’re safely out of here?” I ask. “You’ll transfer into the Skin yourself, and I’ll get my Leopard Skin back?”
“I need to remain in my own body. There are things Sentin can do that President Morelle can’t.” His tone is as calm as ever, but a ripple of color runs over his scales—the only sign he may be more impatient than he pretends.
“What things?”
“Our priority must be to negotiate peace with Deiterra. I’m the only one the imperator will talk to.”
Seems that Sentin has a clear plan for what
comes next.
Yes, of course he does. While I’m reeling from a suggestion I hadn’t even considered, he has the future all mapped out.
In spite of the pain that goes with every movement, I push myself to all four paws and turn away from the twisted tangle of broken limbs that is my human body. I need to start coming up with my own plans. My reluctance to give up my Leopard Skin is clouding my thinking. What about all the things I could do if I become President Morelle?
“If I’m the president, I’ll be able to help Ma,” I say slowly. “And not just Ma. Tori, and Spade, and Keren, too. As President Morelle, I could make the lives of every sinker better.”
His scales ripple again, growing darker. “I should warn you, the Skin might change you. Using it will give you a heightened sense of power. You could become more confident. Perhaps reckless. Even narcissistic.”
I don’t know what ’narcissistic’ means, but becoming more confident doesn’t sound like a bad thing. And power is something I’ve never dreamed of having. Especially power that’ll keep the people I love safe forever.
Giving up my Leopard Skin was one of the worst things I could imagine, but all at once, it doesn’t seem too much to ask.
“Guess we’ll have to take the chance I won’t go power crazy.” I move back to my human body before lowering myself gingerly onto my belly. In the lab, I used to stay on four paws when transferring back into my own body. But I hurt so badly, lying down is a relief.
“You’re ready?” Sentin crouches beside my head.
I drag in a breath, wishing I had more time to think this through.
“Where’s Felicity?” I ask. “If she thinks Morelle’s Skin is her sister, she shouldn’t see it looking dead. Or coming back to life.”
“She’s still hiding in the secret room. All this noise must be frightening her.”
Sentin shifts my human arm, and I wince at the unnatural way it moves. My bones are clearly broken, and the scent of blood is so strong, it’s all I can smell.
