Bloodtide

I tucked the kitten under my anorak. 'Yes,' I said. 'Just in time.'

22

Afterwards, back in the compound the kill was put out on display. The bodies were laid out on trestle tables, as if the dead halfmen were some kind of picnic. It was late, dusk was coming down and the light summer rain was falling again. The stay-at-homes came out into the wet to see the monsters. Adults stood under umbrellas, shuddering, pulling up the lips to inspect the ugly teeth. The children ran amongst them, terrified, delighted and disgusted at so much death.

And Signy – Signy, who had in her pocket a small kitten that might or might not grow up into one of these creatures -she walked past the tables and she thought, now they're nothing but dead meat. Uglier than ever.

Here were the bird creatures that had come after her in a flock when they saw her car on its own. Thin faces of girls and no skull at all to speak of; all shiny beaks and blonde hair. Here were the cat-people – or were they people-cats? -with bodies as powerful as cars. Here was something that might once have been a monkey - altogether too human for her to look at, like a child.

But mainly, the dead halfmen were the hyena men, of the kind she had spoken to on the pylon. She looked into their dull eyes and thought, is this a parent? Uncle, mother, daughter, son? Or just some half machine made only to fool us? She knew the reputation for cunning. No doubt it was all some trick.

In her coat, sleeping against her belly, hidden by the thick fleece of the anorak, perhaps there was a killer yet to grow. Signy hadn't made up her mind what to do with the halfman's gift. She'd examined it. It was quite big, almost a young cat already. It was bright and alert, but perfectly ordinary. It was a sweet little thing, and the halfman had moved her. Perhaps it was better to send it for a swim to the bottom of a pond.

It occurred to her that the kitten was the halfman's pet. In its way, the idea that they kept pets was as shocking to her as seeing him laugh and cry. Later, she tried to talk to Conor about the halfmen having feelings but he laughed at her for even thinking about it, kissed her and called her sweet. That was not a good way of dealing with Signy, who did not in any way think of herself as sweet. So, for the time being, she kept her mouth shut about the kitten. She told Conor that the halfman had only just got up there when his men came, and that it had been trying to arrange some deal with her for its life when a bullet hit it Conor was in no way suspicious; he only expressed wonder that it hadn't torn her to pieces at once.

She felt uncomfortable about her deceit, but she told herself she would tell Conor about it sooner or later. The only reason she wasn't telling him at once was because she was afraid he would take the kitten away and kill it. And that realisation made her think further, that she had no say over things. Conor would have his way – had had his way, would have his way, no matter what she thought. And therefore, things were not quite as they seemed.

23

Signy

Later when I played with it alone in the tower I found myself weeping. And this was why: the kitten was like me. I was lonely. I'd been lonely for a long time only I hadn't noticed because I was in love.

The kitten was so sweet, I fell for her at once, but she made me sad, too, because I only wanted a friend and a kitten isn't much of a friend, is it? I tickled her tummy and she tried to bite my fingers and chase her tail, and loved me back at once. I examined her from head to tail, but I found nothing that wasn't pure little puss-cat. No human fingers or teeth, nothing in her eyes that I hadn't seen in a kitten's before. I knew I couldn't let her go, not unless I had to.

In the night I awoke thinking of something. I got up, half asleep and went to the drawer where I kept the letters from home. I'd been dreaming of Siggy. Funny… I'd started missing him in my sleep.

I sat there reading the letters. There'd been quite a few from Sigs but l hadn't answered any of them. I thought, jealous! Poor old Sigs! I was just settling down to read them when there was a rattle from below. Conor, come to visit me. It was the first time my heart sank when I heard that trap door rattle.

I got up to hide the kitten, but it wasn't necessary. She'd been asleep on a cushion by my bed while I read, but she was in hiding already. I wondered how she had understood to do that.

Conor came in. I didn't run to welcome him this time. He knew something was wrong. He stood in front of me the way he used to when he was courting me, scowling and awkward, a shy man who didn't know what to do with himself. I thought, pal, you'll have to be sweeter than that to get round me this time.

He lifted his hands and let them drop. 'I was afraid for you,' he said.

I said, 'I can be afraid for myself, thanks. Is that why you've been keeping me up here? It's easier for you not to worry about me?'

He scowled, but he ploughed on, trying hard. 'I mean, I was afraid. For myself.'

'What?'

'The halfmen,' he explained. And he blushed like a child. 'They scare me to pieces.'

I said, 'What are you talking about?' I didn't understand. Why should his being scared affect how he treats me?

But he went on, 'It scares me… so much. I don't know why. Like with heights.'

'Then don't do it.'

'It's… it's weak.' He tried to stare me in the eye, but he was finding it hard. 'I have to. There'd be no respect. So I have to. But I couldn't bear to have you there with me because…'

Conor stopped talking and his eyes filled with tears; and my heart melted. I said, 'Don't cry, don't cry…' And I didn't want it to, because he had to give me some freedom, much more freedom, but my heart melted and I ran up to him and held him tight, wrapped my arms around his big ugly mug. He buried his face in my shoulder and he let out a couple of harsh, trapped sobs.

'They scare me, they scare me,' he kept saying. And I still didn't really understand why his being scared meant he had to keep me locked up on top of an old pylon while everyone else had the fun. But I knew it meant he loved me. And I realised then for the first time that he had to fight so, so hard to be what he wanted to be… stupid man! As if he wasn't already enough. As if he wasn't already enough for me!

'It's all right,' I told him. I kissed his precious tears. 'It's all right.'

'Do you despise me now?' he begged.

'Sssh. Ssssh. It's all right.'

24

Siggy

Promises were made of gold; you kept them if they were made with a treaty-partner. Enemies were different, of course. You expected them to lie. These days, Conor was counted a friend.

We'd agreed to go to visit Conor right at the beginning. It was only fair, as Val kept pointing out. He comes to us, we go to him. The difference was, as I kept pointing out, we were as good as our word.

But you have to hand it to Conor. He put himself entirely into our hands when he came here. We could have snuffed his entire operation out. But that's the point. We never would. We gave our word. Val would have said that Conor'd started to behave like us by showing us trust, and even I had to admit he had a point. Maybe if you can show trust you can offer it too.

Maybe.

Hadrian reckoned Conor had made peace because he had no choice. Conor had been losing the battle for a long