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Authors: Shawntelle Madison

Under My Skin (8 page)

BOOK: Under My Skin
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The soldiers opened fire, and my supposed kidnappers retreated behind their cover. Even then, a few of them tried to fire on Astrid. Instead of dragging me behind her, she jerked me around to protect the front of her body.

“Keep moving, damn it!” In the open door of the sleek transport ship, the pilot waited, gesturing madly for us to get inside.

With each step, my freedom disappeared. We only had a few more steps to the door. I twisted around and released my frustration on Astrid. I ripped at her uniform and tried to claw at her eyes, but she was too strong and it was far too late. As we closed in, I felt the sharp bite of pain on my upper back and smelled the disgusting odor of burned flesh. This time it was mine. I gasped two times. My blood rushed to my head. I fell backwards, darkness folding over me. The last thing I heard was the sound of the transport door closing with me inside.

Even though I was half asleep, I could see the dock where I loved to read after school. Only a short trip from my house, I’d venture out to sit on an abandoned pier and let the sun warm my skin. From my spot, I could see for miles along the coast. To the south, an old flag fluttered on a weathered lighthouse. It was still used in emergencies, but no one bothered to repair or paint it anymore. While to the north, some of my neighbors returned from fishing for the day. Their rusty boat made all sorts of noise and spat out blackened smoke. All of these things painted the landscape of my memories—until I spotted two figures standing on the other end of pier. With their backs turned, I couldn’t see their faces, but I caught bits of their conversation. Both of them wore unfamiliar gowns of dark red. The color of blood.

“Are you sure she’s prepared to do this?” one woman asked the other. “Her wound was severe.”

The other person, an older woman, harrumphed. “The girl should’ve thought of the consequences before she tried to escape. It doesn’t matter, though. We don’t have any more time.”

The sky over the sea darkened. Almost as if the clouds threatened to bring rain. The sun’s warmth against my cheeks turned cold. A brisk wind swept across the water, turning the lighthouse and the figures ash-gray. As the darkness continued to suck the life out of my surroundings, my back began to ache with a subtle throbbing with each breath I took. I reached for my back, gingerly touching the irritated skin.

I grimaced from the pain and shifted as wakefulness pulled me from sleep into the stark reality of the present. The sea was gone and in it’s place was a damp, dark room. How long had I slept?

Fatigue clung from my arms to the tips of my fingers, my lips were dry, and my belly clenched around raw hunger. If my last thoughts hadn’t been about my attempted escape, I wouldn’t have tried to sit up. But every time I tried to make my eyelids twitch, nothing happened. Instead, I continued to rest on my side against some frigid stone.

My outstretched arms were connected to something else. And something heavy was on the back of my neck.

And it slowly beeped.

“You’re a foolish girl,” a hoarse voice whispered across from me.

The drip-drop of water against stone bled into my thoughts as my surroundings finally came into focus. The air was stale and damp like a cellar, and I wasn’t on a recovery bed. I had to be in an underground chamber of some kind. Whatever was on the back of my neck gave off a red light with each beep. The light cast a faint glow against the stone walls.

“Where am I?” The words scratched my throat.

A slight tug on my hand drew my attention to the bindings around them. I squinted as I adjusted to the darkness. Suddenly, a set of eyes opened in front of me. They appeared rheumy with thin veins extending from the enlarged irises. The eyes blinked twice before I caught the glint of yellowed teeth. A mouth opening wide into sinister smile.

I sucked in a deep breath and whimpered. The beeping increased with my racing heart. No. No.
No, it can’t be.
Impossible. Even with the faint red light and the shadows hiding most of him, I knew the man who was tied to me. He was the man whose frail fingers touched mine less than a week ago, during the initiation. He was the old man who had given me all those red sponsor cards.

With what little strength I had, I tried to pull back. Scoot back. Anything to separate myself from this person whose wheezy laugh shook his whole body. His laughs turned into a series of back-breaking coughs. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Why can’t this nightmare end?” I cried.

“It will
end
,” he gasped. “Soon.”

My eyes snapped open. My empty stomach threatened to spew bile. What just happened? A tingling sensation brushed against my fingertips, and then spread up my arms. The metallic tang of the offering enveloped my mouth and spread into my nostrils. I gagged as the horrible taste built and the tingling reached my head.

“Please...” I begged. “Please stop...”

The old man twitched. Then his body broke into spasms.

All I could do was lay there with clenched teeth and pray for al of this to end. For that annoying beeping to stop. A few seconds later, I got my wish and passed out.

CHAPTER NINE

Barely awake, but hardly asleep, my thoughts frantically swam and refused to coalesce together. I moved slowly, sensing I was curled up in crisp sheets. The scent of fresh linens was comforting. The weight on my neck was gone and my hands were free.

The room was bathed in darkness. Only a spear of light through some curtains lit the center of the room, casting everything else in murky shadows. The space was stuffy—almost as if the air had settled and not moved in a few days.

Not far from me, a tall figure approached, crossing the light. Something glinted in his hand. A large blade. He closed in on me, holding the knife high above where I slept.

Fatigue touched my senses, but my rapid heartbeat kept me awake. My lungs locked as I waited for the blade to penetrate the blankets. The intruder stared intently at me, his eyes dark and penetrating. His face was angular, but youth was present in his features. “This ends now for you, for everyone else.”

His arm swung down and my eyes widened. My mouth opened to choke out words. “Please. Don’t.”

He stopped mid-swing. With the weapon no more than inches from my chest. His eyes searched mine. I’d never had someone stare at me for so long. For a moment, I passed out, but when I woke up again, he had backed away.

“Not yet,” the boy whispered, a hint of disappointment adding an edge to his words. “This will be over soon enough though…”

Everything rapidly faded away. Whether it were a dream or reality, I hoped I wouldn’t remember.

I woke up to the warmth of a bed. Could everything I’d experienced have been a dream? The cave. The boy who tried to kill me. I tried to go back to sleep, but a strange itch crept up my arm. This itch turned into the sensation of tiny legs—little ants—gripping and running along my skin.

I shot up in the bed, clawing and flapping my arms. “Get it off me!” I screeched.

From not far away, a woman said, “It’s begun.”

I kicked and jerked, anything to get rid of whatever pest swarmed over my skin. Several sets of hands grabbed me. Their voices attempted to enter my din.

“It’s all right,” an older woman said. “Just ride through it.”

“It’ll pass soon,” another woman said.

Soon enough, the horrible feeling vanished, leaving me staring at the ceiling of a room that was richly decorated, but as cold as the strange cave I’d been in before.

“Where am I?” Exhaustion set in again, and I couldn’t will myself to move. My head flopped to the side, revealing two women and four men holding me down.

Of the two women, one had a stern face, framed with golden hair and gray streaks. Her beak-like nose jutted out over thin lips. If she hadn’t looked so bitter, I might’ve called her beautiful. The other, in contrast, was far shorter and rounder. Her dark brown eyes assessed me with concern. Her skin was as pale as my mother’s.

“If you keep calm, you won’t aggravate your injury,” the taller woman said.

“I’ve been shot?” I could barely hear myself say those words. “Who are you people?”

The tall woman glanced at the shorter one, who motioned for the men to leave the room. They left through a set of heavy double doors. The shorter woman followed after them, but not before she glanced over her shoulder to nod at the taller one.

After the four men left, two others in black uniforms stepped forward. The first one focused on a point above the bed. He had a full dark blond mustache that matched the short buzz cut on his head. His thick arms rested on his sides. An enforcer. But he wasn’t the one who made me suck in my breath. It was the young man beside him with rich, reddish-brown hair. The one who’d attacked me while I’d been sleeping. Instead of looking at the far wall, he stared at me with dark green eyes, his hand resting on his knife’s sheath.

The door shut to silence, drawing me out of the moment. A tingling sensation along my fingertips continued to plague me. The pain was hard to ignore too. Was this what happened to people who’d been shot? My lower lip quivered, but I refused to show weakness. Not in front of the man who might’ve attacked me.

“In this household, you will call me Miss Rebecca. I am General Dagon’s assistant. He’s the Master of this estate.” She pointed to the men behind her. “These are the General’s men who help protect the household. Captain Fairbanks is the General’s Master of Firearms.”

The man with the mustache nodded.

“And to his left is Captain Belfry, the Master of Blades.”

“The Master of Blades,” I whispered
.
The title swirled on my tongue and tasted deadly. We stared each other down until pain raced up my spinal column, and I gripped the sheets as the pain bit into my sides. I looked at the General’s assistant and said in a hoarse voice, “How long have I been asleep?”.

Rebecca faltered for a moment and tilted her head as if in doubt. “Are you prepared to give me the passphrase, Master?”

Passphrase? What kind of place was this?

When I didn’t answer, her lips formed a thin line, and she approached the bed. The sliver of fear across her face had disappeared and now the steely woman remained. “You’ve sustained a las-gun wound. During the cross-fire, a stray shot grazed your back. Fortunately, none of your internal organs have been compromised—although you do have some bruising. When you fell to the ground, you also hit the side of your head. You have a bit of a concussion—nothing more.” Her eyes then lit up as if she tried to be cheerful under a mask of distaste. “As General Dagon’s newest staff member, you must take care of yourself so you can begin your duties.”

Somehow I managed to nod. I knew this was coming. My servitude. But the attack and the las-gunshot wound weren’t something I’d planned.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“May I contact my family? To let them know I’m alive?” The moment I asked to contact my parents Rebecca’s jaw twitched in annoyance. Did that mean the Water Bearer rules still applied here, too?

“As much as you might want to go home, you’re at your new home now. You’re Master Dagon’s employee with no rights except the ones he grants you. The sooner you get used to that fact, the better off you will be.”

Employee?
More like indentured servant! I might’ve had a concussion, but I knew the definition of an employee. They could quit. They could come and go after work hours.

The crawling-ants sensation invaded my thoughts. It shifted from my fingertips to my lower face. I wanted to scratch at my chin, but I was too tired to move.

Captain Belfry now focused on the same spot where Captain Fairbanks stared.

“Is this what people feel...when they’ve been shot?” I asked.

Rebecca inhaled sharply. “The attack was unexpected,” she said, pausing and adding a crack of a smile, “but with time, you’ll recover from the inherent shock associated with your injury. You’ll be back on your feet and ready to work in no time at all.”

Back on my feet? I stole a quick glance at an ornate, gold mirror on wheels that rested against the wall. When I caught sight of myself in the mirror, I was glad I was lying down. I couldn't believe the person on the bed was me: with disheveled hair, bloodshot eyes, skin paler than I’d ever seen it before, and a never-ending itch that continued to crawl across my cheek.

“I look awful,” I said.

Rebecca shrugged off my comments and shifted the mirror. The wheels squeaked on the fine carpet. “Your body has been under a great deal of stress. With sleep and our medical care, you’ll pull through.”

She turned away from me to check on the medical supplies next to my bed.

I wanted to weakly smile—to try to agree with her, but the mirror’s new position didn’t keep me from seeing the expression on my face. That expression raised every hair on the back of my neck.

I immediately recognized the crooked and sinister grin I wore on a mouth I didn’t control. I’d seen that smile twice before and I didn’t need to see his wrinkled skin or recall his frail body to know what I saw.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop smiling.

The voice of the old man, low and weak, slithered through my mind.

“Welcome home, Tate.”

CHAPTER TEN

“Did you hear something?” I whispered.

Even though pain from my wound rocketed through me, fear smothered me within its dark embrace. Much darker than the attack during the night.

“Hear what? Did you think I said something?” Rebecca’s eyebrows lowered. “Are you feeling all right?”

But I’d heard something—a man’s voice. From the questioning look on her face, I decided it was best I remain silent. Maybe my head injury had gotten the best of me and I was tired and delusional.

“I’m fine—just really sapped,” I said.

“Are you sure? We could always sedate you for a while.”

After everything I’d been through, sleeping wasn’t an option. So many things had been taken away from me already.

“I’ll manage, thanks.” My voice was weak, but firm. No drugs.

To end the conversation, I turned my back on her. After a few minutes, I expected her to leave, but she took a spot by the side of the bed with the enforcers still standing there.

BOOK: Under My Skin
9.49Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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