He felt his eyes fill with tears as he spoke, which surprised him. Was it empathy for his tormentor, or was he just play-acting? Yet as he said it, he felt it. It musthave been awful for Tyler. Maybe he hadn’t been such a terrible person back then. Maybe Isobel’s death had warped him, turning him into this monster. If so, he could see why. Ithadbeen terrible for Tyler, and he deserved for that to be recognised.
“I killed her,” Alex said, and it was a relief to say it out loud, to mean it, and to offer it to the person who needed to hear it most. “I didn’t mean to, but that doesn’t matter. I’m responsible for her death, and I’m so very sorry.”
It was impossible for Tyler to doubt his sincerity, because every word was true. Tyler stared at him, and for a brief moment, Alex wondered if his confession would lance the boil of Tyler’s anger and need for revenge. But no. Tyler was a man who clung on to his feelings, always nursing and burnishing them. He never let anything go. He did, however, look startled by Alex’s words. Finally, he nodded.
“I appreciate this new honesty,” he said in a low, sincere tone. Then, in a completely different voice: “Shall we eat?” He waved his hand at the place setting facing the hologram.
Alex took his seat and only then realised that three places were laid.
“Oh, that’s right – I invited a guest.” Tyler gave a wolfish smirk. “Someone for you to entertain.” Finally, the reason why he was wearing the black leather jacket.
Tyler rang a bell, and a few moments later his guest entered. He was one of those middle-aged men who tried to look young and trendy long after it was appropriate. That was the only explanation for the tight jeans hugging his portly frame, the brown leather waistcoat layered over a white tee-shirt, and the obvious wig tied into an unbecoming ponytail that hung down his back. Yet he had warm brown eyes and a bright, smiling face that made him instantly likeable.
“This is the genius behind my new art installation,” Tyler announced, beaming. “The creative force responsible for this beautiful hologram. Alexander – say hello to Elliot Dacre.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
NOVEMBER 2095
Josiah
Josiah encountered Reed and two Inquisitus agents climbing up the staircase as he carried Alex down.
Reed quickly took in the situation. “Grant?”
“In the water. Someone should go and fish out the body – there’s no chance he survived.”
“Lytton?” Reed glanced at Alex, who was lying, passed out, in his arms.
“In a bad way – he needs medical treatment, and fast.”
“So do you. Let me help.” Reed held out his arms to take Alex, but Josiah brushed him off; Alex was his precious burden, and his alone.
“Just make sure there’s a duck outside ready to go when we get there.”
The Destiny was waiting for them when they emerged into the howling storm. She was being guarded by an Inquisitus agent and was fully intact, if a little worse for wear.
Reed jumped in, then reached up to help Alex through the roof hatch and onto the back seat. Josiah jumped in beside Alex and wrapped his arms around him, checking his injuries. He was freezing cold and deathly pale, and blood was seeping out of thewound on the back of his head. He looked as if he was barely hanging on.
“We’re in one of your ducks, Alex,” Josiah told him softly, holding him close to try and warm him up. “Reed only went and bought a Destiny.”
“They’re good ducks,” Reed protested as he steered the AV away from the Shard Quarter and towards the nearest hospital, the Phoenix, on Ghost Eye.
Josiah wasn’t sure if Alex heard or understood what was being said, but then he saw the faint smile on his lips.
“Good? They’re the bloody best,” he muttered.
Josiah wouldn’t relinquish Alex until a medical team prised him out of his grasp and placed him on a stretcher at the Phoenix. He went to follow, but a firm hand grabbed his arm and pushed him onto a second stretcher.
“I’m perfectly able to walk,” he protested, but Reed just smiled at him sweetly and gestured a doctor to his side.
“He’s been hit over the head, possible concussion, and stabbed in the shoulder. He’s lost some blood, which must be why he’s making even less sense than usual.” He turned back to Josiah. “I’ll go with Lytton. I’ve called Esther and she’s on her way. She can deal with you. I’ve done my bit.”
Josiah glared at him and then sighed, his expression softening. “Thanks, Cam,” he said softly. “And I really am very sorry about your duck.”
“You should be,” Reed admonished, and then he left to find Alex.
If he was honest, Josiah was relieved to be lying on the stretcher, because now that the adrenaline had stopped flowing, his legs felt very weak and he wasn’t sure they’d hold him up. Hewas even more relieved when Esther turned up, and instead of reading him the riot act, took hold of his hand and squeezed it fiercely.
