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.
"I will find these vigilantes," he said, "and I won't rest until I do." Then, he told everyone to call him if they saw Darien or myself. Somehow, he had managed to get pictures. Darien's was in black and white, a still image from a video surveillance camera somewhere, whereas mine was an old mug shot.
To make matters worse, it was a very terrible mug shot.
I grit my teeth. "We need to call the police!"
"They are the police!" my Maker yelled.
Roxanne glanced between us. "I'm . . . going to go make some tea," she announced. "Come on, Oli. I'll need another pair of hands."
"For making tea?" His brows came together, and then he twigged. "Oh, right." He stood and followed her into the kitchen, looking rather boyish.
"What do we do?!" I glanced between Noah and Darien. "Now we're on Australia's Most Wanted list and if we're seen anywhere publicly, they'll call him, and then he'll shoot me again!"
Noah looked me up and down. "He shot you?"
"Yeah." I showed him the tiny wound on my arm.
"It was nothing," said Darien. "Just a flesh wound."
"Hmm." Noah pursed his lips. "It's unusual for hunters to target specific vampires. They don't tend to operate like that. To them, we're nameless creatures. They usually patrol the streets and shoot and kill whatever random 'monsters' they find unless...." He gave Darien a firm look. "Unless, of course, you did something to set them off?"
"What? No." Darien looked insulted. "Why am I always to blame? He was looking for Helena. I was nothing more than a happy coincidence."
"Helena?" Noah repeated. He sounded rather perplexed. "But she's been a vampire less than forty-two hours. She's barely left the house. How is that even possible?"
"Well, she is my Progeny." Darien shrugged. "So maybe trouble finds her."
Something in Noah's expression told me that he agreed with that comment, but still, he seemed unsatisfied by the lack of data. "But why was he looking for you?" he asked me.
"I . . . don't know." I sighed. "I went to visit Troy, like we discussed, and everything was going okay, but he told me Reed was there earlier and looking for me. I figured he was just delirious."
"Did he tell him anything?" Noah's dark eyes were very serious.
"No. Definitely not." I shook my head. "Reed was surprised to see me like this."
Darien seemed surprised too because he listened carefully as Noah interrogated me. Clearly, they both wanted to get to the bottom of this.
"So, he was looking for human you?" he asked.
I nodded. "Yeah, I think so."
"That's peculiar." Noah made a face.
"Welllll . . ." Darien also made a face, but his was less confused and more derogatory. "It's not so peculiar considering they were dating."
"You were dating a hunter?" Noah's eyes narrowed, almost in disgust, but there was something curious there too. "How could you have been dating a hunter yet not known about our kind?"
"Whoa!" I held up my hands and stared between them. "Reed and I were most certainly not dating!"
Darien's lips formed a straight line. "You were going on a date, though."
"Well, yeah." I rolled my eyes.
He sparked up another cigarette and muttered with it between his lips, "So, you were dating."
"No." I leered. "We were going to go on a sort-of date, but we weren't dating."
"No, you two were just tongue wrestling," said Darien.
"It wasn't like that!" I said. If he had of said this twenty-four hours ago, it probably would have made me smile and gush, but now it just made a fire burn throughout me. "We kissed for like, a few seconds, if that. We didn't snog or anything." No way was I giving my Maker the satisfaction of mentioning the rejection. The less he knew, the better.
"Sure looked like that in your memories." He shrugged. "You were all smitten."
My jaw dropped. "I was not smitten!"
"You were a little smitten."
"No, I wasn't!"
"Yeah, you kind of were."
"No!"
"Yeah—"
That's when Noah stepped in between us, separating us like disobedient children. Until now, I hadn't noticed that we were practically yelling in each other's faces.
"Focus," Noah told us sternly. "We need to get this sorted before King Artemious hears about it, and for us to do that, we need to know his motive. Once we know his motive, we can find a resolve."
Darien breathed out smoke. "I'd say he's pissed because he thought he was getting laid and then he didn't. That's enough incentive to send any man on a killing spree." My Maker's face turned considering when he glanced over at Noah. "Well, maybe not 'any' man," he admitted, his eyebrows tugging together. "When was the last time you got laid anyway? The prehistoric ages?"
Noah's expression flattened. "Darien, not everything is about sex."
My Maker seemed confused by that statement. His expression scrunched as he stared at Noah. Actually, his expression kind of reminded me of this time a banker tried to explain interest rates to Troy.
Noah paced back and forth around the lounge room. He stood tall and, though he was silent for a few moments, I could tell there was a lot of debate inside his mind. Eventually, he turned toward me.
"So, you seriously have no idea why he was looking for you, Helena?"
"No. I don't. I'm sorry." I exhaled. "I wish I had more I could tell you, but I honestly don't know."
"Alright." Noah gave a firm nod, his dark gaze moving between us. "It's settled then. The two of you are on house arrest until we figure out what he wants."
Darien had been inhaling his cigarette when his Maker spoke and started coughing instantly, as though he had choked. "What?" The word came out roughly, and then he cleared his throat. "I must have heard you wrong, because it sounded like you said, 'the two of you,' as in, both Helena and myself."
"No, you heard correctly. Both you and Helena will be on lockdown until it's safer, or at least until we have a game plan. Until then, you can stay here, indoors, out of sight and out of trouble." Noah grabbed a brown coat from the hanger behind the front door, and then he opened it and lingered in the doorway. Light beamed in from behind him, making him temporarily appear like a silhouette.
I squinted and tried to ignore the way the sunlight stung my Newborn eyes.
Darien approached him with an aggressive stance. "You can't do that!" he yelled. "I have a date tonight!"
Noah shrugged. "That's not my problem."
"It will be your problem," he retorted, his accent strong. "You heard what happens to men that are deprived of sex! I'll go crazy and . . . and . . . kill Oliver!"
"You'll be fine." Noah sighed. "You're staying here."
"Like hell I am!" Darien growled; fangs sharp. "I will burn this house down before being caged inside it!"
"I don't have time for this," Noah sighed. His tone and stance were flooding with authority. There was something about the exchange that made my Maker appear like a disobedient child by comparison. "I need to go out and meet with some people to find out information about this specific group of hunters, and you will not leave this house until I say otherwise." There was something in his tone, something I recognised instantly. He was using that weird compulsion thing on Darien, his Progeny, to make sure he did what he was told. Meanwhile, Darien stood there, aghast. He looked as though he wanted to debate him, but the air had been physically sucked from his lungs, and therefore he was literally unable to. He choked up in a similar way to how he did on the cigarette smoke. Then, he death stared Noah and I could feel the fury seething inside him as Noah left this house a free man, hesitating on the veranda, only to give Darien a side-long glance as he added to his order, "And no burning the house down . . ."
The next few hours dragged by.
This was mostly because Darien wouldn't stop pacing around the lounge room. I groaned as I tried to watch the TV, but his back and forth-ness made it impossible to concentrate on anything other than his footsteps.
"Would you quit it already?" I huffed, sitting up on the grey lounge. "It's been two and a half hours and you're already going stir crazy."
He had a half-empty bottle of scotch in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. "I don't like being told what to do and I especially don't like being caged."
Darien stood near the door. I noticed that he was able to open it, so that light streamed in along with the fresh air, but he couldn't step a single foot outside. He remained there for a few moments, as he sculled his alcohol, and then he lost his temper and threw the empty bottle outside. I couldn't see where it landed from where I was seated, but I heard the echo of glass shattering as he groaned in frustration, and then he slammed the door shut.
"Are you claustrophobic or something?" I wondered.
"No." He folded his arms as he glared at me in a defensive kind of way. "I'm not afraid of anything."
"Really? 'Cause everyone's scared of something."
"Not me." Darien returned to the liquor cabinet, picking up another bottle of scotch, and a few bottles of bourbon. "I happen to adore tight spaces, just not of this form."
"Right." I ignored the hidden meaning. "Well, why don't you just sit down and watch something? Get your mind off it." I scooted over a little and patted the couch. "There's a lot of bad reality TV to binge-watch," I added.
"Yeah, as appealing as that sounds, I'm going to have to pass."
I stared at him. I wasn't sure if he had other plans, preferences, or just didn't want to spend quality time with me. With his flippant moods, it could have been all three at once. Or none. He didn't seem particularly angry with me over what had happened earlier today, but that could have been because that rage was now directed toward Noah for bossing him around and locking him inside like a house cat.
Then, without another word, he started toward the stairs. A red flag shot up as I remembered I wasn't supposed to be alone. I wondered whether I was meant to follow him since Roxanne had been very specific in her terms and conditions of me staying here, and though I didn't like being babysat, I realised that it was kind of necessary after what happened with John.
"Where are you going?" I asked, sitting up further.
"Upstairs."
I did my best to be patient with his one-liners. "To do what?"
"Drink."
"With?"
"Jack, Jim, and Johnnie." He gestured toward the booze he was holding, and then started to make his way upstairs. "See you in a few hours when I'm hopefully far less coherent."
"But—but who will watch me?" I asked. "What about Oliver?"
"Snap his neck for all I care." He waved me offand continued toward his bedroom.