It was morning. Early morning. A cool wind drifted in through shutters. Somewhere, a bird gave a splutter of song and Saark opened his eyes, looking up into Myriam's face. She rested her head on one hand, raised on her elbow, and she was staring down at him. She smiled, and he saw her vampire fangs, complete with traces of blood. His blood. But he did not mind. In fact, it excited him rather a lot and she noticed this with a purr of appreciation. "Again," she said, a growl, a simple command, and Saark gave a nod, and within seconds they were fucking only this time this time it was different and Myriam was more wild, far more feral and something had changed something had gone and they kissed and he thrust into her, thrust deep into her so hard he thought he would tear himself apart and they worked together, in perfect rhythm, and sweat was dripping from her face into his and as he rose frantically to an uncontrolled and uncontrollable orgasm so the clockwork went click and the brass wires and gold wires threaded from inside Myriam, and the clockwork seemed to know Saark was blood-oil infected, and they were needed, and the machines came through Myriam, through her womb and into Saark and he felt a scream well as he came, and in the moment of greatest pleasure, his moment of greatest vulnerability so the clockwork burned through him, entered him, and he writhed around and would have yelled and screamed but Myriam's hand clamped over his mouth and her incredibly strong body pinned him, rigid, locked down to the bed as the clockwork inside her split and multiplied and her eyes glistened and she understood.
Myriam stood, and watched Saark writhing on the bed, his eyes rolled back and white, froth at his lips.
Kell burst in, Ilanna in his great fist, eyes roving. "What's happened? Shit, Saark? Saark?" and he rushed to the bed and Myriam stood back. Saark thrashed, in agony, his body rolling and bucking and a smile was on her lips. Slowly, she dressed.
Kell turned on her. "What did you do to him?"
"I saved his life," she said.
"He doesn't look very well to me!"
"Listen. He was bit. By Shanna. You know how it works, Kell; I know you do. If he didn't get the clockwork, eventually the blood-oil would poison him; like the Blacklippers, but worse, for with them it's not in their bloodstream, only in their flesh. Here, he would have been dead within a week, no matter how strong he said he felt."
"Clockwork? But, how? How did you… " Kell's voice trailed off.
"Use your imagination, old man," said Myriam, and pushed past him, but he grabbed her upper arm. She struggled for a moment, but even despite her vachine strength, Kell was stronger. His grip was an iron shackle, his thunderous face doom.
"If you have hurt him…"
"Yes, I know, you'll plant that huge fucking axe in my skull. But just remember your complete lack of trust in a couple of hours when he comes round, and feels better than ever. Just you wait, Kell! I look forward to your apology. I look forward to that stupid pig look on your stupid flat face!" She shook off his hand and stalked from the farmhouse, looking for somewhere to wash. Her anger was tangible. Like blood mist.
"I don't understand," said Nienna, as Kell pulled blankets over Saark's naked body. "She said she gave him… clockwork? So that means now he's a full vachine? How did she do it?"
"I'll explain later," muttered Kell, and checked Saark's pulse. He had settled down, was still, although his eyes were still rolled back in his skull. His breathing was regular. Kell placed his hand on Saark's chest. Within, he could feel a heartbeat, but also a steady ticking; like a clock.
"Is he well?"
"Shit," muttered Kell and left the room.
Nienna moved to the edge of the bed, and sat beside Saark. She stared down at his face, and her hand moved, tracing down his beautiful features and coming to rest on his naked chest. She gave a shiver. And then she realised, both he and Myriam had been in here together. Naked. Now everything clicked into place. Now everything fit together.
Nienna's face changed, and the vision that swam across her young, pretty features turned her ugly for just a moment.
Composing herself, and biting her lip, and pushing away images of violence, Nienna stood and left the bedroom.
Myriam sat by a bubbling stream. Ice froze the edges, but it flowed down the centre, pure and fresh and icecold. Small blue flowers grew along one bank, where the snow had been held at bay by a line of dark green pine. Her gaze followed the trees up, up to distant heights; she reckoned them to be a couple of hundred years old. Magnificent. Kings of the forest.
She sighed, and dipped her hand in the stream, thinking back to the night, and their love-making, and the absolute total pleasure. Then her eyes grew bright, and she thought now of the clockwork, and Saark's acceptance of the clockwork – for she knew, if it did not work his death would have been instant. He would have died inside her. But that had not happened, and Saark was, now, for the very first time, true vachine.
" 'A creature of blood-oil and clockwork,' " she quoted. " 'A child of the Oak Testament.' " She had spent precious little time with Shanna, and Tashmaniok, the Soul Stealers who had turned her into vachine – and so robbed the parasitic cancer which riddled her of another dark victory. But during that short time, she had learned from them.
And the rest – well, Myriam smiled. The rest was instinct.
A hand touched her shoulder. She had not heard him approach, and she turned, and smiled up at him, and winter sunlight highlighted her hair and her smile.
"Myriam," said Saark, and crouched down. Now, his skin was more radiant. Now, he was at the peak of physical strength; of fitness; of clockwork enhanced life.
"You feel well?"
"Incredible," he said. And inside Saark, something went tick tick tick. His eyes glowed. He reached down and kissed Myriam, and they stayed there for a while, kissing, holding hands, listening to the burbling of the stream.
"We should leave soon," said Myriam. "In case more soldiers come."
"Of course. Kell will be shitting buckets."
"Did I do the right thing?"
"You did the right thing," said Saark, and he could feel it, he knew, inside himself, that without the clockwork he would have died; and it would not have been a good death. What Myriam had done was save him. She had given him a part of her own clockwork engine. Her own machine had divided, and grown, and become a part of Saark, golden wires and brass gears worming into him, meshing with his flesh, building him into full vachine. Real vachine.
"I love you," said Myriam.
"And I love you," said Saark, amazed at himself how easy the words came; although, in all fairness, he'd spoken the words a thousand times to a thousand different ladies. This time, did he mean it? Saark filed that away for later analysis.
"Now, you will never die," said Myriam. "And we will live together, be strong together, forever."
Saark frowned, but Myriam was looking across the stream. She did not catch his face.
"Just think," she continued, eyes distant, "we are so strong, we are like royalty, Saark! We could have anything we wanted! Gold, jewels, land, titles, we could take anything our hearts desired!"