Under My Skin (20 page)

“Don’t you have friends who can protect him until he wakes up?”

He faced me, fury pulsing through him. “His chart said Glasgow coma scale 3. Would you like to know what that means? Let me spell it out for you.” He took a menacing step toward me. “The low-life living in your
head
ordered his men to torture and beat my brother until he was in the condition he’s in now—brain dead.”

His words sliced me in half. Enough to snatch my breath away. But I endured it. The General wasn’t here to bear the brunt of his anger. “Pete won’t be talking to anyone ever again.” Quinn let out a pained laugh that turned into an agonizing groan. “I can’t even say goodbye to him properly.” He paced back and forth in front of me then lashed out to slam his fist into the bed’s handrail. I flinched, imagining the pain racing up his arm.

I wanted to comfort him, to cry for him, but I knew I shouldn’t move.

“Get out, Tate,” he grated. “I don’t want you or him in here!”

I didn’t budge.

Quinn finally moved to the monitors. With a trembling hand he shut off the machines. The ventilator. The heart monitor. Peter’s chest, which has risen and fallen in a steady rhythm, began to stutter. Quinn gently sat on the bed and cradled his brother close. I didn’t wipe away the tears that spilled down my cheeks or drive away the sense of guilt that made my shoulders shake. None of this was my fault, but someone had to care. Someone had to be here for both Peter and Quinn.

When I sensed the end was near, I didn’t look away.

The room became still, the quiet broken only by Quinn’s sobbing.

My heart dropping, I stumbled away from the bed and glanced at the door, expecting someone to show up any minute now. Quinn had turned off all the monitors. I opened my mouth to warn him, but no words I’d say would matter now. So I left Quinn behind and made arrangements for his brother’s body to be released to him. I hoped he’d want to see my face again someday. The new face of his brother’s killer.

With the heavy burden of sadness on my shoulders, I returned to General Dagon’s estate after my hasty exit from the institute. When I reached the house a few hours later, I found out that my disappearance hadn’t been noticed.

After I used the bar code scanner at the first guard post, the guards at the gate let me in.

“We never saw you leave, sir,” one of the men said. “Should I call Miss Rebecca to assist you?”

After everything I’d been through, I couldn’t help but bark like the General, “How I got out or why I left is no concern of yours. Just let me inside.”

Two guards hurried to open the gate.

“Don’t bother calling my assistant,” I said. “She’s probably doing her job, which is more than I can say for you two. I just walked out of here under your noses. You men need to stay alert. Stay sharp.”

“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.

As I walked back to the mansion, I couldn’t suppress the guilt. There I was imitating the man who’d caused Quinn’s suffering. Was it that easy to act like General Dagon? I passed another guard post before I reached the back of the mansion. The sun was far lower in the sky. How much time had gone by?

I could’ve gone through the front door, but the kitchen was a safer entrance. The pantry door was locked, but my bar code worked on the access panel’s scanner. I crept through the kitchen, hoping to see a familiar face. There weren’t any. With the hood of my cloak pulled back, the men and women immediately recognized me. They backed away with heads hung low. Silence filled a once busy room.

“Carry on.” Then I spoke with more confidence. “You people know what to do. Get to work.”

They resumed their duties with a feverish pitch. Even the head chef shouted, “You heard the Master. Keep working.”

No one stopped me as I walked through the halls and entered the master suite. As expected, the doors had been locked, but I just as easily locked them again from the inside.

Cecelia snored on her side from her usual place on the couch.

I took off my cloak and left it under the bed. I also messed up the bedding to give Rebecca the impression I’d slept there.

Now that I was back at home, I needed a shower to wash away all the dirt from walking around.

The hot running water and privacy of the immense bathroom should’ve cleared my thoughts and momentarily made me feel safe and clean. But all I could think about was Quinn, how he was hurt and wasn’t here for me to comfort him. Also, I dreaded the idea of facing the General all alone.

I eventually left the shower to return to the real world. On my way out, I passed by the vanity mirror. A series of dark blue streaks on my naked body caught my eye. Curious, I crept back. With the General bouncing around in my head, I usually didn’t like to stay undressed for long, but what I saw made me shudder and cringe. If I hadn’t tilted myself just right, I would’ve never seen it.

Along my back, at the spot where I’d been shot, the skin wasn’t light brown or scarred. It was mottled with patches of dark purple and light blue. But what frightened me even more was the veins. Against my light brown skin, streaks were sickly dark blue. With trembling fingers, I touched myself. The area was slightly painful, but the old wound didn’t feel infected.

But what did all these patches mean?

My lower lip shook and my newfound confidence faded. The discolored skin on my back told another tale. Something bad was happening to me again. And just like General Dagon, I never saw it coming.

Seven days passed, practically a lifetime for someone in my position.

Like the mantis I’d seen in that picture book, General Dagon left me trapped in his claws. To anyone else, the hours encompassed in seven days would’ve passed slowly. But for me, I only witnessed three-fourths of them. And when I was awake, the old Tate didn’t exist anymore. He made plans to take me to the battlefield if necessary.

“I expect to be debriefed on any correspondence from the Prime Minister,” he said to Rebecca one morning. “Has the courier brought anything?”

“Two encrypted messages, Master.” She took a step closer to him. “The Prime Minister’s pleased with how well you’ve progressed and expects you to begin planning a strategy to assist the army.”

“Good.” My eyebrows lowered and Dagon made me smile. “About time all my messages about Kennedy’s track record came through. As expected, the Prime Minister can see his past isn’t as stellar as mine.”

“Like always, Master.”

After a long morning of meetings, the General relinquished his control on me. For once, I was glad he hadn’t put me to sleep. With so much happening, I needed to know what he knew. I absorbed the information from the other officials on fighting the invaders from the north. Based on what I’d heard, whoever was attacking us didn’t like the Guild. They’d been whittling away at the defensive grid along the northern coastline, trying to find weaknesses so their men could trickle through. If the time came for me to take action and order troops in the General’s place, I had to be ready, even if Quinn didn’t return.

What did the General’s book say again?

Should your enemy strengthen his front lines, he will weaken his rear. Should they strengthen their rear, they will weaken their front lines. The same applies to their left and right sides. If they send reinforcements everywhere, they will be weak on all sides.

I had to prepare. I had to be ready. But I also had to realize I couldn’t remember everything. Just the most important things.

After spending so much time reading the
Tactics of Combat
to look up the next set of passcodes, I’d come to memorize the passages. In a way, the text was more than a book about the strategies of winning wars. It could be applied to life in general as well.

I often had time alone to chew on what I’d read, to imagine the circumstances of how I interacted with people and how it played out based on my responses. The book’s words made sense in a way even I could understand. It was all about controlling one’s emotions, controlling the situation to one’s own advantage.

The General was good at it. I had to be better.

There was one thing the General didn’t apply from the book. The author specifically stated that enemies should work together if possible to
not
become enemies, that the enemy wasn’t to be humiliated after defeat. For the General, everything was about control. And that control meant eliminating the competition, no matter what was done to them in the process.

Des, my new close friend, tried to protect me during the week as best she could. With the General around all the time, it was difficult for her to tell me her thoughts. I was sure she wondered what I’d done when I’d left the estate a few days ago. In the meantime, the General planned to attend a ball hosted by Adam Falcon, just another reason to pack up and go to New Amesbury again.

I had no choice but to leave. What if Quinn returned while I was gone? What if he had important information to help me and I missed the chance?

The trip into the city was like before. Only this time, without the excitement I had from seeing New Amesbury for the first time. Now that the Guild had taken my life away, it was just another place with skyscrapers covered in solar panels. The advertising vid-screens held no interest for me either.

I missed Quinn.

Des tried to cheer me up with the prospects of a shopping trip.

“I don’t think that’s a wise idea,” Rebecca said.

“What will it hurt? Just a quick trip to get her a few things.”

Rebecca made that face she always made when it came to my well-being: a blank one. She didn’t care that I was depressed, only that today was another day the General took a step closer to owning my body.

“The Master has plenty of clothes,” she said, her voice terse, “in the colors and styles
he
prefers.”

Des rolled her eyes and tried to reason with Rebecca. “What good is this body for our Master if it’s in poor shape? She doesn’t eat as much, and I’ve noticed a few stomach problems.”

Rebecca’s eyebrows lowered. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I wasn’t sure yet.” She patted Rebecca’s hand. “The last thing we need is a cranky Master with a stomach ulcer. Would you want to explain to him why he has one?”

“Take her shopping then. But…” Rebecca thrust her finger in the air. “You’ll have a limited number of credits to spend, and I expect you to mind the personal guards I send with her.”

Des smiled. She’d won. “But of course.”

We visited a few stores in the commerce district of New Amesbury. I had Des with me, but I wished Mom could’ve been here to see this place. We rarely bought new clothes. Just like most of the smaller southern towns, we bartered for goods like clothing.

Clothing stores in the capital were nothing like I’d imagined. They had flashing lights and dance music playing in the background. Part of me didn’t want to touch anything. And these were the clothes I’d always wanted: velvet-lined blouses with short skirts and lacey dresses that revealed one’s shoulders. As Elise Dagon, I could have anything I wanted.

Even though I had the credits to shop here, I wasn’t like the other girls. Bodies chiseled to perfection browsed the aisles with their servants in tow. Noses curved to a perfect point. Contact lenses and fingernail polish changed color to match whatever clothes they tried on. My face was the only one with a prominent scar.

I didn’t find anything I wanted to wear tonight, so we left.

As we approached another store, we passed by a group with personal guards. Four of them surrounded a young woman who should’ve recognized me the way I did her. When I’d last seen her, she had tears in her eyes and her beautiful brown hair was less kept. When I’d last seen her, she was free.

After I passed Constantine Fortuna, or should I say, the new body he inhabited, I briefly turned around to watch their backs. Not only did he have Eva’s body, but he had a new Second Water Bearer—a boy who helped carry bags. I expected to catch the faintest scent of nutmeg from her, but that was gone as well.

When we reached the next store, I tried to cast thoughts of Constantine aside. But it was hard not to think that could be me soon, that I could be like Eva.

Des must’ve perceived my change to a sour, dark mood. Apprehension filled her features. “Is there anything I can get you, Master?”

I rolled my eyes. “Des, it’s me.”

“What dessert did I bring you the other day?”

“An apple cobbler.”

Her round face spread into a smile. “You scared me for a second there.”

She ordered the clerk to fetch some clothes and pulled me into a hug so tight that I couldn’t resist hugging her back. How I’d missed the comfort from someone else, someone like my mom.

“I’ve waited so long to talk to you like this. How have you been?”

I shrugged. “I manage the best I can.”

“You need to be careful, Tate. Pretty soon, he’ll become more aggressive with his time.”

She had a point there. I had other questions too. “What about my back? Is it infected? You keep avoiding the question.”

“I wish I could take that away from you.” She bit her lower lip. “Most of my patients who go through the transfer ceremony don’t have major injuries. You, on the other hand, had a las-gun wound on your back. Maybe the Vorhees Unit interfered with healing.” She sighed. “Either way, it’s not going anywhere and will likely get bigger along with the other symptoms.”

“Symptoms?”

The clerk arrived with my dress. I opened my mouth to ask her again, but Des motioned for me to put on the dress.

Thanks to shopping with Des that day, I didn’t have to wear one of the General’s blood-red dresses. The General’s personal taste in matronly garments didn’t fit mine.

To be honest, part of me enjoyed my light pink dress. Des even allowed me to buy matching hair accessories and make-up. Even though we had personal guards watching our every move, I still felt somewhat free.

Cecelia didn’t share my contained enthusiasm that night. While everyone helped me prepare for the ball, she wore a frown. She didn’t appear as happy in her Water Bearer uniform and had a bit of a temper once we arrived at the Prime Minister’s palace. At the entrance, she had a few choice words. “I don’t know why you bothered with that dress,” she said. “The minute he takes over, you’ll only piss him off.”