Newborn

PART TWENTY-TWO

When we arrived at the Turner house, Darien got out of the car and slammed the door shut before he stormed inside. I followed behind him, feeling like a lost puppy with its tail between its legs. I didn't understand why his anger bothered me so much, but it made me feel small.

Noah greeted us once we entered the lounge room.

He was reading a book, as per usual, and set it down upon our entry. Meanwhile, Roxanne and Oliver sat on the other grey lounge and watched the news on the TV. Roxy's hand tightened in Oliver's as she eyed me, but they chose to stay put.

"Did you sort it out?" Noah asked Darien.

"More or less." Darien shrugged.

That's when an important news broadcast came onto the screen. It was at the hospital we just visited. I noticed my Maker's expression fall as he sparked up a cigarette in that habitual way of his.

This seemed to displease Roxy because she swished the smoke away with a glare. She looked like she was about to tell him off, until Noah stood, his black eyes fixed on the television as he turned up the volume.

"Maybe more on the less side," Darien mumbled.

The news reporter was a blonde woman, who spoke animatedly. She smiled and looked very serious when it was appropriate. "Six men were found dead," she reported, "one seriously injured, after a possible gang-related shooting took place outside Western Sydney Hospital at approximately five O'clock this morning . . ."

When it showed a video of the aftermath, my eyes went round. There were crowds of people everywhere, as police worked behind the yellow-taped 'do not cross' area, and then it cut to eyewitnesses.

The first was a middle-aged man with a receding hairline. He claimed to have seen Darien run a man over and talked about how horrible it was to see the body fly in the air, but it was the second face that made my skin crawl. It was Reed. His sapphire blue eyes seemed even brighter in the sunlight, matching his blue Police uniform. He wore the same jacket he'd once put around me when I was cold, and then he stared into the camera and lied.

"I volunteer here at the hospital sometimes," he claimed. "I was off-duty, just trying to give back to the community, when I heard a racket in a nearby back alley. I immediately called for backup, but it happened so fast. We do presume it was gang-related violence, or possibly Bonnie and Clyde copycat killers, but there's no real evidence to support either claim."

"He's lying!" I yelled at the TV, balling my fist.

"Yeah, somehow, I don't think the TV set really cares, Helena," my Maker muttered sarcastically.

"I wouldn't run your mouth, Darien," Noah warned.

"They attacked us!" I yelled, turning toward Noah now. He seemed to be in charge here, and surely, he would help me broadcast the truth. "We need to tell the police," I insisted, grabbing my mobile phone from my cleavage. "We need to call them and tell them—"

My Maker snatched the phone from my grasp and tossed it recklessly on the wooden coffee table. "Tell them what exactly? Tell them that their star cop is really a hunter?"

"Yes!" I said. "They need to know that he's a fraud and a liar and—"

"That he hunts us?" Noah interjected.

"Yes! That he—" My expression fell. "Well, no. Obviously we can't say—"

That's when the television caught my attention again. Only this time Reed seemed to stare directly back at me through the screen. The cameraman zoomed in on his face, and those piercing blue eyes fixed onto mine.