Din Eidyn Corpus (Book 2): dEaDINBURGH (Alliances) by Mark Wilson Page B

MacLeod had rebuilt Joey’s resolve and given him a clear purpose. Michelle had also given him the means to hurt Fraser and half of the solution to stopping The Exalted. The Castle keys provided the rest.
    With Steph’s disappearance Alys had lost more than ever and she needed the coming invasion to keep her moving forward, to keep her fighting. That was fine: it was a good cause, trying to remove thousands of people from the path of insanity and defend them. It was a worthy cause, but there was more to Alys Shephard than being a fighter. She needed to heal her aching soul. She had to make time to grieve.
    In this world of theirs – where death was everywhere, where moss and decay covered and walked the surfaces and streets, where they’d grown up literally fighting living death – keeping the fires of survival, of hope, alive inside themselves was perhaps more important to their souls than living, surviving at any cost. Suzy had been right about that.
     
    “Want to tell me about your mum’s flash-drive?” Alys asked, without looking up from her task.
    “I do,” Joey replied. “But it’d be easier to just show you. Let’s go.”
    Alys did look up at him now.
    “Go where?”
    “Somewhere wonderful,” he said. “C’mon. It’s not far.”
     

     
    “Can I watch it again, Joey?” Alys had now watched Michelle MacLeod speak to her son for the fourth time and had cried from the moment she’d seen the woman who wore her best friend’s face.
    “Of course,” Joey replied.
    He clicked at the mouse and the video began once again. Joey saw a change happen as Alys wiped at her eyes and breathed a long, tired sigh. With this viewing, she was filtering out the raw emotion and clinically picking out the other details – the ones that told them the kind of man Fraser Donnelly was.
     
    Alys had spent several hours, since coming to The Hub, scrutinising the many computers, monitors, data feeds and food stores. Joey watched her as she passed through an entire array of reactions from shock to wonder, anger to joy. Seeing Michelle and listening to an unfamiliar voice issue from such a very familiar face – and hearing the love she poured over the electronic device and the decades for her son – had smashed Alys face-first through the walls she’d built around her grief and given her permission to just cry. Alys had cried like a child. She’d had a lifetime of tears and grief to shed.
    Neither of them mentioned Stephanie even once. It didn’t matter; all that mattered was that the pressure valve had been loosened and Alys could breathe once more. Tricia, sensitive immediately to their need to be alone together, had retired to her bunk for the night.
     
    Alys’s eyes narrowed menacingly as she listened to Michelle describe Fraser’s betrayal and her shock at finding herself in the dead city.
    “It’s a miracle that she survived long enough to reach this place, Joe. Truly courageous, but a miracle nonetheless.”
    Joey stayed silent for fear of blubbing once again, but gave Alys’s shoulder a gentle squeeze to acknowledge her words.
    Alys, who’d been sitting straight-backed, finally sagged into the soft leather chair, suddenly empty of emotion and energy. She was clearly succumbing to prolonged lack of sleep.
    “We should talk about how best we can use these monitors to track The Exalted and how we can use this place to hurt Fraser… but,” Alys looked round at him through half-closed, droopy eyes, “let’s do it in the morning.”
    “Sure,” Joey said softly. “Besides, I reckon Tricia in there has plenty of ideas on that score already.”
     
    Alys didn’t reply. Her eyes had closed, her hand holding Joey’s in a slack grip.
    Joey crouched and gently moved some hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. In another place, another life, or if they were different people, he’d scoop her up into her arms and lay her in the bunk above Tricia’s. In this world, he’d pay for it in bruises.