dEaDINBURGH: Origins (Din Eidyn Corpus Book 3) by Mark Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

Ringed, drawn by the clanging of the metal fence, shuffle towards her. They were a hundred meters or so along the cobbled road and moving slowly. Forcing herself to stay calm, Michelle breathed deeply, loudly and willed the contraction to pass. Finally, as the shredding pain began to become less intense, she moved into the shadows and along the edge of St Giles’ Cathedral’s walls, avoiding the snow with her footsteps. Her movements were swift but careful and deliberate. She made no noise whatsoever.
    The unblinking eyes of The Ringed hadn’t traced her movement but had instead remained fixed on the repaired part of the fence where they’d detected the initial noise. Michelle pressed herself against the ancient stone of the Cathedral’s walls and willed herself to remain still. She couldn’t fight in her condition. Judo was not a friend to a heavily pregnant woman, and besides, a martial art where you grapple or throw an opponent wasn’t exactly appealing against The Ringed. Stealth was her only option.
    Watching the group of Ringed shamble past her, she noted that they were much more recently infected than she would have expected to find this close to the centre of the city. But then, and she knew better than most, there were always newly-infected arriving or being created in the dead city. As The Ringed made their way clumsily down the gradient towards the fence, Michelle took two tentative steps, pressing her foot softly into the snow. Checking downhill to her right, she confirmed that the group were still focused on the fence. She stole a look upwards to her left, noting that another group of the dead were staring up at a pigeon perched on a statue. She breathed deeply once more and quickly but lightly crossed over to the heavy doors of Mary King’s Close.
     
    Pulling at the rope leading through the stone wall beside the door, Michelle listened for the tinkling of the bell whilst scanning both ways along The Royal Mile once more. Another contraction spilt her in two and threw her to the snow-covered cobbles. They were coming so quickly now. Hardly any respite lay between the periods of intense agony that heralded the arrival of her child.
    A small hatch opened at head height on the heavy wooden door and a man watched her passively with glazed eyes as she fought through the contraction. Standing on shaky legs, Michelle caught her breath.
    “I need Father Grayson,” she hissed through gritted teeth. The man gave a single slow nod and closed the hatch. She could hear his footsteps disappear down a staircase.
    Yet another contraction racked her body as she waited. This time she did scream out in agony and this time the eyes of The Ringed near and far along The Royal Mile rotated lazily and fixed directly on her. She reached out and pulled the rope again as dozens of pairs of shabby feet scuffed and tripped their way towards her.
    The hatch opened and Grayson’s face appeared. He took her appearance in silently.
    Despite her months in The Hub and the clothes she’d scavenged there, Michelle still looked out of place amongst the city’s residents. She knew this and had spent little time out of her sanctuary for this reason. In truth, with her roots a different colour from the rest of her hair as the dye grew out, her very bright teeth, her much too clean skin and hair and the purpose with which she walked, she stood out like a shining light amongst an abandoned people.
    She watched for a second as Grayson noted these things. She’d studied the man also, how he talked and how he thought. She had prepared her words carefully.
    “Father Grayson. My name is Michelle MacLeod. I’m in labour and respectfully request assistance and sanctuary.”
    Even before he spoke she could see on his face what his answer would be.
    “You do not belong with us. You are not of this place.” His voice was stern and the tone absolute. The moaning around her took on a new urgency and grew closer.
    Michelle stole a look at the street