Bloodtide

'Crap,' she said, turning away. She was right; it was crap – an old American video, all faded and cheap to begin with. The only people making good quality ones these days were in the Far East.

I didn't complain about her standing there in front of the screen. She was – I dunno, maybe late thirties, but she was a good deal better to look at than anything on it. She ages so fast, but somehow it doesn't make so much difference as if she was human. I mean, she's only been alive eight or nine years.

She turned round and plonked herself next to me on the sofa. I decided it was an invitation. I stroked her face with my finger and she looked sideways at me. I turned my face to hers and kissed her.

Kissing Cherry is like honey. OK, her breath tends to smell a bit these days, but it still made my head spin. I put my hand on her waist and pulled her shirt out of her skirt so I could stroke the skin and that neat little stripe of soft fur that grows down her spine. I followed the fur up her back right up between her shoulders, and then down, down, until I had to hook my finger under her tights and pull them down an inch or two to carry on my way…

'Mmmmm,' she purred. And then she wriggled away and pulled the tights back up.

'Cherry, you're killing me!'

She scowled. 'You're too young.'

'I'm older than you are…'

'I'm here on business, Siggy. Here…' she said, and she chucked me a little plastic bag with some paper folded up tight in it. It was still wet in the creases, and I made a show of wiping it on my arm.

'You never know where it's been,' I said. Cherry ignored me and sat down to drink her cola and watch the video, even if it was crap.

Actually, of course I knew where the letter had been; she carried things in her crop when she was a bird. But I couldn't resist the tease. I glanced across at her. She'd been keeping away from me more as she got older, but I still had the hots for her. Who knows, maybe it was because I had no chance with anyone else, but still…

She was all downy, all over – I can vouch for it. I keep thinking about that lovely furry stripe. Not hairy – a neat, sandy, soft stripe of short hair that tapered as it went down her back. Very pretty, right down to where it disappeared. I kept wanting to run my finger all the way down. Yeah, yeah, her and me. Maybe she was trying to soften me up to take Styr on, maybe Signy ordered her to do it. But I like to think it was because she wanted to, despite the face. Halfmen women aren't so fixed on what the front of your head looks like.

I tried to shake Cherry out of my mind, sat down to read the letter from Signy, and I might have known. In fact, I'd been waiting for it.

My sister scares me sometimes.

I keep saying to her, all I want to know is where Conor is going to be at a certain time so that I can be there to put a bullet in his neck. But no. That's not good enough. Signy wants everything done 'properly'. Not just Conor but the whole empire has to be shot down the drain, and the Volsons put back in his place.

Those days are gone forever. The Volsons are an empty house. I don't even think of myself as one anymore. Me and her – what are we worth? She can't escape Conor even though she has the means if she wanted to, and me, I'm just dead meat walking.

She's been getting worse ever since the baby was born. Going on about Odin, the knife, about Val, about the empire. The current thing was Styr, of course: the clone. The thing from the tank. I kept telling her, I wanted nothing to do with her plans, any of them – but especially not Styr. And yet she never seemed to doubt that I'd do what she wanted. Look at this – a letter written weeks ago before she went into the tank. She didn't even wait till she emerged to find out if I was going to do it.

'Shit.'

Cherry looked across at me with that wry smile of hers.

'I won't be a nursemaid for Conor's brat.'

'He's nearly fifteen years old, Sigs.'

'It's all wrong, he was only conceived a few months ago,' I grumbled. I crumpled up the letter and chucked it at the window. 'I don't like it, I don't want it, I won't have it.'

Cherry smiled at me and held out her hand. In her palm lay a nut. I stared at it sullenly.

'I thought you couldn't lend shapes,' I said.

She shrugged. 'I had to get help. I was surprised he agreed.'

She meant Loki, of course.

Sometimes I feel the gods hanging around me like crows. There was Odin, of course, putting in a couple of appearances – distant, stern, all-knowing. A bit too stereotyped for me. I still don't know whether he's something out of Ragnor or not. Either way, it doesn't do to fall out with such a patron; you can see what'll happen even with him on your side. But Loki – what good ever came out of Loki?

On the other hand if all he was doing was mucking up Odin's plans, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. But no, I don't mean it! Not if it involves Styr.

Cherry muttered her charms; the nut sprouted.

You can't help but watch, even though it makes you feel sick. This was worse, because the kid was a real monster as far as I was concerned. He ended up on all fours and scrambled to his feet, in the way a dog might jump up. You know, without self-consciousness at how foolish he looked. Then the change was over and I could see him for what he was and…

First thing, I wanted to run out of the room. Next thing… Well, then I was just mesmerised. He was like me. I thought, what? Why? I mean, OK, Signy and me are twins, but not identical twins. But he was so like me. Except, of course, a better version. Bigger, stronger, beautiful. I never used to think of myself as beautiful. I found that I was touching my face and I thought, did I used to look like that? I tried to walk away but I found myself circling round him like a dog. It was like… is this me? Am I looking at myself? Had she cloned me, somehow?

As I walked round I could feel all the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. It was extraordinary. I felt like I was turning into an animal. I thought, no! I'm not the animal – he is. But despite that – listen to this, despite that, despite everything, I knew right at that second that I loved him. I loved him and I had no choice. And that scared me more than anything.

I glared at Cherry and snarled, 'What is this?'

'Your boy,' she told me.

'Get him out of here,' I said.

'Signy wants you to train the boy.'

'No.'

'She wants…'

'No!'

I turned to go, I got to the door with my hand on the handle, when the boy cried out,

'Father!'

…and I stuck there with my hand on the handle. I couldn't move, I couldn't move. The awful thing was, I knew. Even before he said it, I knew it was right.

'How can that be?' I whispered.

And Cherry said, 'I lent her my shape.'

So that was it. I didn't need to question it, I knew it was right. I must have looked awful because Cherry stepped over to me and put her arm protectively around me. 'Why?' I asked her.

'She asked me to,' said Cherry.

'And the other times?'

Cherry gave me a crooked look, half smiled. 'No, that was me, Siggy.' She wriggled her small hand into mine and whispered, 'I'm sorry. I didn't know she was going to do that.'

'But you'd have done it anyway,' I told her, and she didn't deny it.

All the time the boy stood there watching me intently, as if his life depended on what I did next. His face, it was always like this, it gave nothing away except that his eyes looked like two hot stones. Now he moved, took steps towards me to join us, his hands held out wanting to touch me.

'No!' I couldn't bear him to touch me. Then I found myself staring at him to see if I'd hurt him. I thought, my flesh and Signy's flesh. No wonder he knows me better than I know myself.

'Test me,' he said.

I shook my head. Test him? For what? Blood? He meant his strength, of course, his skill as a soldier. Signy