Shabis pulled back, tears coursing her cheeks. “How are you?”
Anu glanced to Vashell over her shoulder. “I am well. I am in love! How are you? Have the Engineers harmed you? Are you well?”
“I am fine,” laughed Shabis. “I have been treated like royalty. Spoilt, really. You look happy, Anukis; although battered a little.” She glanced over her shoulder at Vashell. “He told me about you, kept me informed about your health. I am so glad you two are in love! It will be a marriage made perfect, and your children will be beautiful!” She giggled, pulling Anukis to the bed. She turned, and waved Vashell away. He departed.
“Truly, have they looked after you?”
“They have,” said Shabis, and kissed Anu’s cheek. “And you?”
Anu’s face went hard. “I have been condemned, Shabis. I have been treated worse than any dog, worse than any canker.” She pulled away, stood, walked to the splendid view. It had begun to snow in Silva Valley, and a thick fall muffled the world.
“What do you mean?”
Shabis was behind her. Holding her. Concern shone in her eyes.
“Vashell beat me. He hurt me, Shabis. He hurt me bad. He paraded me like a slave before the Engineers. Then he…he took my blood.” She heard a hiss of in-taken breath. “He drank from me, Shabis. He drank from my veins, made my impurity whole, for all to see. Then he…he took me. Physically. Carnally. I had little choice if I wanted to save both of us.”
She fell silent, brooding, watching the snow. Somehow, Silva Valley had again lost its beauty, its charm. It was a perfect pastel painting, framed by silver-quartz and yet to Anukis, now, after everything that had happened, it was a vision of hell. Worse. Of a canker-riddled cancer hell.
“What will you do?” Shabis’s voice was barely more than a whisper.
“I have a plan!” Anu took Shabis, and shook her with passion. “I will kill Vashell. And we will flee. We will leave Silva Valley, we will leave this world for good. Cross the Black Pike Mountains; make a new life.”
“But what of the vachine?” said Shabis, softly. “What if the clockwork becomes faulty? Who will fix us?”
“I have some skill,” said Anu, eyeing her sister, sensing the fear, the lode of cowardice that ran through her like an earthquake fault in the world mantle. “Don’t you understand, Shabis, they killed our father! We are alone now. Alone in the world.”
“Killed…no! They did not! He still lives! He is on a journey under Black Pike, he will be back in a few months.”
“And you believe them?”
“Why should I not?”
“What else have they told you?”
“Nothing! Anu, you’re frightening me. Stop it!”
“I’m sorry, little one. Sweet Shabis, we must leave this place. I want you to be ready. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I understand.”
Anu shook her, and Shabis’s hair fell, tousled. “You’re hurting me!”
“This is serious, Little One. Do you understand?”
“Yes! Anu, yes!”
“Good.”
There came a hiatus. Shabis played with her hair, and they both watched the snow. Eventually, Shabis said, “Anu?”
“Sister?”
“How will you kill him? Vashell, I mean?”
“I have a secret weapon.”
“What is that?”
Anu’s eyes glowed dark. “You will see.”
Night had fallen. Anu was awoken by a savage blow across her face, which broke her nose and left her choking on a gush of blood down her throat. She rolled instinctively, momentarily blinded, covering her face, her claws out and slashing a wild vicious arc, but connecting with nothing. After a few moments she could see, and she stood, naked, blood covering her breasts, to see Vashell holding a pick-axe helve. It was stained with her blood. His eyes shone.
“What is this?” she snarled, fear touching the edges of her heart.
“Show me your secret weapon! Come on, Anukis, show me how you intend to kill me! Show me now.”
Anu backed away, and Vashell moved around the bed.
“Where’s Shabis? What have you done with my sister?”
“Shabis?” Vashell smiled, and from the gloom, in the glow of the candles, Shabis appeared. She was smiling, a broad smile. Her hands came up, rested, interlacing over Vashell’s shoulder. Her hips were staggered, her stance commanding.
“What are you doing?” said Anu. She felt understanding flood from her soul.
“Vashell is mine, bitch. He will marry me. He told me what you did to him; how you tried to poison him with your impure blood. You are a canker, Anu, diseased, toxic, not a true vachine. You will rot in hell.”
Anu stood, mouth open, pain pounding through her head, her crushed nose stinging, and stared with utter, total disbelief at the scene before her. Her jaws clacked shut, and she watched Vashell turn, kiss Shabis, sliding his tongue into her mouth.
“He will never marry you,” said Anu, eventually.
“Liar! We are betrothed. The Watchmakers will conduct the ceremony in three weeks’ time. You lied about him taking you; you lied to make him more evil in my mind, so when the time came for you to kill him I would help. Vashell is filled with honour; he would never stoop to fuck an impure.” She snarled the word, fangs ejecting a little. Her dark eyes were narrowed, and Anu could not believe what she was seeing. She could not comprehend the hatred emanating from her sister. She did not understand.
Vashell ran his hand down Shabis’s flank, stroking her, and said, softly, “Kill her, Shabis. Kill Anukis.”
Growling, Shabis ejected claws and fangs with tiny slithers of steel and brass. She dropped to a crouch, and moved around the bed, eyes narrowed and fixed on her sister, face full of hatred, her tongue licking lips in the anticipation of fresh blood…
“No,” said Anu, voice near hysteria. “Shabis! Don’t do this! Vashell lies!”
“Spoken just like an impure,” snapped Shabis, and with a feral vachine snarl, leapt at her lifeblood.
SIX
Toxic Blood
Kell tensed as the canker lowered its head, muscles rigid, a low metal buzzing growl coming from its wide open head and loose flapping jaws; and he stared into that wide open maw, stared into those eyes and shuddered as his past life-and more importantly, more hauntingly, the Days of Blood-flashed through his mind and he felt regret and self-loathing, and a despair that he hadn’t put things right, hadn’t found forgiveness and sanctuary from others, and more importantly, for himself…
The canker howled, rearing up. More dust and stones flew, fell, pouring from the destroyed ceiling. A huge cross-member dropped, clunking against the canker which hit the ground under huge weight, snarling and snapping, and through the falling dust Kell saw Saark, his blade buried deep in the canker’s flank and Saark screamed, “The roof’s coming down! We’ve got to get out!”
Kell nodded, slammed his axe into the canker’s head with a thud which brought another bought of thrashing and snarling, then he squeezed around the edges of the wall and sprinted, as more stones and timber toppled around him, diving out of the doorway and hitting the snow on his belly with a violent exhalation of air. Behind, the cottage screamed like a wounded beast, shaking its head in agony; and the roof caved in.
Saark was there, black with dust, dragging Kell to his feet. “I don’t think it will stop the bastard.”
Kell took a deep breath. Snow drifted around him, like ash in the night. He turned, staring at the cottage which seemed to rise, then settle, a great dying bear. For a second it was still, then somewhere deep within started to shift and stones, rubble, timber, all started to move and rise and Saark was already running towards the shingle beach and the boat, where Nienna and Kat urged them on. Kell followed, wincing at pains in his ribs, his shoulder, his head, his knees, and he felt suddenly old, and weary, battered and bettered, and he stumbled down onto the shingle as behind them, with a terrible sadistic roar the canker emerged from the detritus in a shower of stones.