The Skin Hunter Series Box Set

by Tania Hutley

  It’s a weird feeling striding briskly through the doors of the shelter I used to live in, with my high heels clacking over the grimy floor. I left here with my wrists shackled, covered in Rayne’s blood. Now I’m walking back in as the most powerful woman in Triton.

  Life is strange.

  Walking with me, alert for danger, are six of my personal guards. I could have brought a few of the forty-seven remaining knights instead, but they’ve killed too many sinkers for that to be a good idea.

  Behind the guards, a couple of reporters are broadcasting my arrival, adding their own commentary so everyone in Triton can watch. The Beast might be watching as well. He might see this as an attack on him and the other industrialists. If I get my way, he’ll be forced to start looking after his workers as well, so he’d better get used to it.

  The shelter still stinks like old sweat and wet clothes. The smell is all too familiar, and if I close my eyes, the memory of my old fear is so vivid, I could almost go back to being the old me.

  So I don’t close my eyes.

  Instead, I scan the large room, looking for Cale, who promised to bring Spade and Keren to meet me here.

  I can’t see Cale among the curious throng of people who’re gaping at me. They’ve watched me on the holo plenty of times, and I remember how strange it was the first time I saw Morelle in the flesh. It feels just as odd to be on this side of the staring faces, especially when I recognize some of the workers who are gazing at me. Some are people I’ve worked with. One or two I’d call friends. And there are sharks, too.

  I’m tempted to look for the shark who killed Rayne, and have to force myself not to. Anyway, what would I do if I found him? Arrest him for no apparent reason and have him hauled away? Sure he’d deserve it, but how would it look?

  “There you are.” Cale emerges from the crowd. With his bronzed skin, tweaked face, and New Triton clothes, he stands out almost as much as I do. Unstained by the grey dirt that coats the floor of the shelter, standing in front of the crowd of thin, sunken-eyed workers, Cale looks like a movie star from the holo. It was how Rayne looked when she walked into the shelter wearing her beautiful blue coat. When I first saw Rayne, she made me feel like even more of a monster than usual. Judging by the way some of the sinkers are shrinking back as they stare at Cale, they feel the same way.

  “Did Keren and Spade show up?” I hold my breath.

  He angles his head toward my guards. “They’re here. They’ll come out if you lose your entourage.”

  “You did it.” My chest lightens. “And they’re not just here to kill me?”

  He doesn’t smile at my joke. “No guarantees,” he says grimly.

  I tell my guards to look after the food crates, which are being brought in and stacked in one corner of the large room, and Cale and I move to one of the dining tables near the food machines. Though that area is crowded, empty space immediately clears for Cale and me, so we don’t have any trouble finding a vacant table.

  When we sit down I lean forward and murmur quietly to Cale. “Everyone looks just as miserable as I remember.”

  He replies just as quietly. “Give it time. You haven’t been President Morelle for long.”

  I’m not even sure why it’s become so important to make things better for Old Triton. Maybe Cale’s rubbed off on me. He’s not even a sinker, and he’s a member of the Fist, dedicated to helping a city he doesn’t live in. Compared to him, I’ve been selfish. I only thought about my own survival for so long, I have a lot to make up for.

  Keren emerges from the crowd with Spade behind her. Spade is limping, probably still feeling the effects of their battle with the knights. Keren treats me to a narrow-eyed glower, scratching her broken arm under its sling. Neither of them sit down, but stand on the other side of the table, keeping it between us.

  “I don’t blame you for being suspicious,” I tell them. “In your place, I would be too. So thank you for coming.”

  “We brought plenty of friends,” growls Spade. “If you try to arrest us, it’ll get ugly.”

  I hook my thumb at the crates in the corner. “There’s the food. I was honest with you. I really do need your help to distribute it.”

  Keren glances at the crates, then quickly back again, as though she’s afraid my plan is to attack her while she’s looking away.

  “I’ll need you when I bring in medicine as well,” I add. “And other essentials, like clothing, and blankets for people to use on icy winter nights until I can I get decent heating installed.” I stop, because how would President Morelle know how freezing it gets inside her shelters at night?

  “Why are you doing this?” Spade scowls at me.

  I stand up. “Help me hand out the food I brought with me, then we can talk.”

  Without waiting to see if they’re going to follow, I cross to the stack of crates and direct my guards to start levering off the lids. Inside are boxes of food bars, the good quality ones, only sold in the best New Triton stores. They’re called YumYum Bars, and they have a colorful wrapper, a sweet, melt-in-your-mouth flavour, and are packed with nutrients. According to the spreadsheets I went through, the Morelle Corporation usually sells them for about five times as much as they cost to make.

  I brought enough bars for every grunt to have one. Tonight, at least, they’ll go to bed with full stomachs.

  When I turn, I find Cale right behind me, with Spade and Keren a little further back, gaping at the contents of the boxes. Behind them, the reporters are focusing their cameras on the stack of food, and probably zooming in for dramatic effect.

  “How are we going to do this?” asks Cale, glancing behind him at the gathering crowd. “There must be, what, a few hundred people in here?”

  “This shelter sleeps up to two thousand people. It has six levels.” I turn to Spade and Keren. “You said you brought friends with you. We can hand out the food here, but we’ll need help to make sure everyone gets to eat what we give them. You know how cut-throat this place is.”

  Keren blinks, her gaze still fixed on the food bars. “You have thousands of food bars?” She sounds awed.

  “Two thousand.”

  “They must be worth a fortune.” She tears her eyes away from the crates, looking around nervously and scratching her wide nose with the hand that’s not strapped up. “A target for thieves.”

  “So? Want to hand them out? The reporters are watching, and this is your chance to show everyone that the Fist are the good guys.” I eye the people who are inching closer. I doubt any will have been handed anything for free before, and they’re bound to be just as suspicious as Keren and Spade.

  A girl is standing to one side. Her arms are crossed and she’s wearing a defiant expression that reminds me so much of Tori, my heart contracts.

  I grab a bar out of the crate and toss it to her before she can think about vanishing back into the crowd. She catches it by reflex, then blinks at it.

  “Have you ever had one?” I ask. When she shakes her head, I motion for her to try it.

  She rips the wrapper open and takes a bite. The crowd are all staring at her now, so they see the delight spread across her face as she chews. “It’s good,” she mumbles with her mouth full. “It’s really good.”

  The reporters train their cameras on her, and I can’t help but smile at her expression. I know all too well what kind of miserable day she must have had, slaving in one of the factories that now belong to me. Every day was the same when I lived here, and nothing good ever happened. If somebody had handed me one of these bars then, I’d have looked even more surprised than she does.

  The people around her murmur to each other, then press closer to the crates, clearly wanting their own bars.

  I tug a small tablet out of my pocket. Just like tossing the YumYum Bar to the girl, I throw the tablet to Spade. “Here’s a list of everyone who sleeps in this shelter. They get one bar each, and they can swipe their bands as they collect their share. I’ll have more food delivered tomorrow, so we need to g
et a better system going. We can do it this way once, but it’s not going to work long term.”

  Spade stares down at the tablet. Keren keeps her gaze on me, with her eyes narrowed. Then her mouth firms and she gives me a nod. With her good hand, she grabs some bars out of the crate. “Listen up.” The shout booms surprisingly loudly out of her short, wide frame. “You gotta line up to get your share, and swipe your band so we know you’re done. One each, no exceptions. Move to the side to eat, and stay where we can see you. Then move on. Give us any trouble, or if we catch any thieving, we’ll beat your sorry asses into the ground.”

  Cale shoots me a grin. “Looks like we’re going to get it done.” He grabs some bars and stands next to Keren as the crowd starts forming a line. “You’d better move back. Some people might not want to get in line if you stay too close.”

  I motion my guards to retreat with me, and we head toward the door. But I don’t want to leave yet, in case Cale and the others run into trouble and need help. Besides, I want to watch people eat. Seeing their faces as they bite into the bars makes my chest fill with air, like I can lift off the floor and float away.

  Leaning against the wall near the door, I watch as word about the food spreads, and people pour down from the shelter’s other levels to join the ever-growing line. We’re definitely going to need more Fist members to help with everything I have planned.

  I want to make things better at every shelter, including the one Ma worked in. Maybe she’ll even want to come and lend a hand. She must still have friends there, and she’ll probably get a kick out of it.

  Shame I can’t distribute food in every shelter in Triton, but I doubt the Beast, or any other factory owner in his little club, will let me feed people in the ones they own.

  A lot more people are eating now, and for the first time ever, the shelter is full of smiles. Tired faces have been transformed. A group of women are sharing a joke and laughing together as they wait for their turn at the front of the line. Such a simple thing to give out food, but the gift is lifting peoples’ spirits.

  This can’t be a one-time thing. I need to make sure these people keep being fed.

  What if I gave a food factory to the Fist? They could run it, not for profit, but to feed Old Tritoners. And what if I—?

  An alarm sounds from the door. A man is barging his way inside the shelter, and the scanners are flashing. The stompers who usually guard the doors are nowhere in sight, and the man’s holding something shiny.

  Heart thudding, I push myself away from the wall. The man has a popper. When he scans the room, his gaze falls on me and a slow, evil smile spreads over his face.

  He’s some distance away, and when he speaks I wouldn’t be able to hear him if it weren’t for my Skin’s enhanced senses.

  “The Beast sends his regards,” he says. Then he draws his arm back and hurls the explosive at me.

  Chapter Seven

  As the popper arcs toward me, I grab two of my guards and yank them sideways, trying to drag them out of its path. In spite of the high heels and business suit I’m wearing, my Skin is fast enough to get away. But I can’t leave the guards to get blown up. They’re big men, slow and heavy, and their reflexes aren’t nearly as sharp as mine.

  The popper hits the wall where I was learning, and I pull the two men down to the ground with me, trying to cover them with my arms.

  A heat wave slams into us, its force strong enough to tear me away from the guards and skid me further across the floor. The explosion is so loud, it sounds like the popper went off inside my skull. My skin feels like it’s on fire.

  I lie still, too shocked to move. Am I alight? The pain is lessening, and I don’t feel so hot anymore. All I can hear is a loud ringing noise. I’m panting, but I can’t hear the sound of my own breaths.

  Hands touch me. Somebody grabbing me. I lift my head and stare into Cale’s frantic expression. His lips are moving, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.

  Behind him, something is on fire. Flames climb high, then cold water explodes from the ceiling as the shelter’s sprinkler system goes off. The chill of the water is a welcome relief. I still feel crispy, but when I scramble to my feet and stare down at myself, I don’t have so much as a scratch, let alone a burn. I may look human, but every part of this Skin is tougher than any person would be.

  Sinkers push past us, running outside to escape the water that’s raining down on us from the sprinklers. At my feet, one of the guards I tried to save is lying still, his skin burned. The other guard is a short distance away, and he looks almost as bad.

  I start toward him, but Cale grabs my arm and shakes his head. “All your guards are dead,” he mouths.

  I still can’t hear him over the ringing in my ears, but I nod. The stack of cartons with the food bars in them is on fire. The man must have thrown more than one popper, because there’s nothing left of some of the crates but a mess of splintered wood and food chunks.

  “Is anyone else hurt?” I ask Cale, barely hearing the words that come out of my mouth.

  He nods, and points over to where Spade is crouched over, attending to some people sprawled on the floor.

  “We need to get them some help.” Water runs into my mouth when I talk, and the words buzz weirdly in my head.

  “Already on the way.” This time I hear him a little, though I still need to read his lips. “Come on.” He leads me out of the shelter.

  I look around for the man who did this, but he must be long gone. He did what he came for, and destroyed the one good thing the workers have experienced in who knows how long.

  Anger rises in my gut.

  The Beast doesn’t get to ruin everything. I won’t let him win.

  As soon as we’re outside, Cale turns to me. His gaze runs up and down my body, examining me, his expression worried. “You’re okay, aren’t you? You’re not hurt and hiding it?”

  “I’m fine.” I run my hands over my arms, checking that it’s true. The ringing in my ears is quietening, and I’m not in any pain.

  “Okay.” His frown softens. “You need to get out of here.”

  “But I need to make sure the injured are taken to hospital, and—”

  “I’ll take care of it. Having President Morelle here will just make things more complicated. Your guards are dead, and people might start to wonder why you’re not, especially if anyone else decides to attack you, and you need to fight back. You won’t be able to hide the fact you’re so much stronger than a regular person.”

  He’s right, but I hate to leave when people are hurt. Still, I let him lead me toward my car, which is waiting for me a short distance up the road.

  The car door slides open, and he motions for me to get in. “Go. Please. I’ll make sure everything gets cleaned up here.”

  “Wait. Are the reporters still here? Are they okay?” I scan the crowd of people who’ve already left the shelter.

  “There’s one of them.” Cale points, and I spot a bedraggled-looking reporter leaning against the front wall of a neighboring building. Her face and clothes are filthy, but she’s still holding her camera.

  “Is my face as dirty as hers?” I ask Cale.

  He gives me a puzzled look. “Apart from being wet, you look okay.”

  I run a hand over my dripping hair and check my sodden clothes, then cross to talk to the reporter. “I want to make a statement,” I tell her, keeping my tone brisk.

  She blinks at me, her expression dazed. “A statement?”

  “That’s right. Start recording.”

  She still looks confused, but lifts her camera and points it at me.

  I clear my throat. My ears are still ringing, but I speak as clearly and firmly as I can. “A terrible act of terrorism has just occurred. As you can see, I was caught up in it, and it brings me great sadness to say that innocent people have been hurt or killed by a callous bomber.” I motion to the milling crowd, and the reporter dutifully sweeps her camera around them before turning it back onto me.

  A
drop of water rolls down my forehead from my wet hair, and I blink it out of my eye. “As acting president and head of Triton’s largest corporation, I have a responsibility to care for every citizen of Triton, including those who are living in my shelters and working in my factories. If this terrorist act has done anything, it’s proven the need for urgent and immediate changes in all Old Triton factories and shelters. That’s why I’m immediately putting in place new laws to improve security and safety. And all factory owners will need to provide better food and free medical care for those who need it.” I stare into the camera, hoping my anger and resolve shows in my eyes, and that the Beast will see it. I hope this recording makes him spit with rage. He wanted a war? Now he’s got one.

  “The new laws will improve the lives of all Old Tritoners,” I go on. “It’s about time factory owners looked after their workers and used their profits to make things better. Starting now, every industrialist will take responsibility for the well-being of their employees. If they won’t do it voluntarily, then I’ll make them do it. That’s a promise.”

  I can’t think of anything else to say, so I motion for the reporter to cut off the recording. “You got that?” I ask.

  She lowers her camera, staring at me with wide eyes. “I got it.”

  “Upload it to b-Net now.”

  She rushes to obey before I can change my mind. Her fingers are trembling, so hopefully the recording didn’t wobble too much. I can hardly blame her. Only minutes after surviving an explosion, she’s been handed an exclusive scoop with President Morelle that will probably make her career. No wonder she’s a little shaky.

  “It’s done,” she says, looking up. “Thank you, Madam President.”

  I nod, turning away. The recording should spread to Sub Zero quickly. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if a 3-D image of my wet face is already appearing out of the bands of hundreds, maybe thousands, of people.