Under the Altswood Sky (The Altswood Saga #2)

Chapter 26 - Golden

Chapter 26 - Golden

I burst through the doors of the hospital, wincing at the bright lights that hung overhead. My surroundings immediately became bathed in white, blurring solid lines together until the walls blended into the ground.

Christ, what time was it?

There were still blood stains dried into my palms as I slapped my hands down on the receptionist's desk.

"Gabriel Kingston," I breathed. "Where is he?"

The receptionist eyed my hands in worry. There was a small tablet beside her desktop that played the Altswood news reel. Give it a few minutes, and she would know why I looked this.

"Luca, you know the rules," she said. "Family members only."

My mouth was already half-opening to prepare a lie about being his second cousin, but by the fact that the receptionist knew me by name, it probably wouldn't work.

I should have forced Dad to come in; everyone would feel obligated to report back to the police chief.

"Please," I pleaded, "just let me know if he's alright."

I had sprinted out from the passenger seat of Dad's police car and nearly torn my seatbelt in two. Dad had been following on my tail, but he was called away to another urgent matter at the hospital entrance, and left hurriedly with an apology. It didn't matter too much. He didn't need to worry about leaving me alone anymore, not when our serial killer was knocked out with a tonne of sedatives while they removed the two bullets in his body.

The receptionist watched me for a long moment, weighing my desperation against the hospital policies. Finally, she turned away and tapped the keyboard, loading its register.

"Gabe's still in surgery," she reported. She looked up. "Are you feeling well, Luca?"

Clearly my lightheadedness showed on my face.

"Yeah, I—" I turned around, right into the camera of a reporter.

"A statement?" he asked.

I couldn't see the face of the reporter. I only saw the bulbous lens as it was shoved against my nose, and then the flash was going off, leaving amorphous imprints in my sight.

Blinking, I took a step back, only to find myself suddenly surrounded by reporters. They could have been amateur bloggers or any tourist with a camera, but it hardly mattered as they all screamed into my face, asking about what had happened.

"Hey, hey! Move back! Move back!"

Mr. Sodrepena appeared at the edge of the crowd, pushing his way through with a surgical mask still menacingly worn over his face. At the sight of his heavy frown, the reporters jumped back in fright, clearing a path for the aged nurse to get through and grab my elbow.

"What's happening?" I asked numbly. We emerged from the chaos, relatively unscathed. "Why are there so many people here?"

"News spreads fast and people want to involve themselves," Mr. Sodrepena replied, tearing off his surgical mask. He hurried us into the emergency wing of the hospital. "We heard you stopped a serial killer."

I grimaced. "Somehow it doesn't feel as good as it should."

We passed a familiar corridor, and I paused to peer into Jules' room. The door was open, revealing a clean, unoccupied bed.

"Where's Jules?" I exclaimed, jumping to the worst conclusions.

"Don't worry," his dad assured. "Jules woke up and got transferred to a non-intensive room."