The Revelation

Bright white light streamed in as Wren’s eyes tried to adjust. A strange and unpleasant smell filled the back of her throat when she took a deep breath, and something hard lay against her back. Fear gripped her when the surroundings were so unfamiliar. Wren’s reaction was to thrash around, trying to break free of whatever bonds she had been put in.

Images of Isaac’s body restrained to a hospital bed filled her mind. The white lights were above her, and soon she’d discover the strange blue liquid swirling into her own body. Within minutes, a partially shifted Werewolf would be on her, and she’d have to fight for her life. It would end. Just like Isaac’s.

Something wet pressed against her face. Wet, warm and it smelled of…dog food. She laid back against the bed with a loud sigh, letting her free arms spread out over the sheet. Brutus stood over her, wagging his tail.

“You had a bad dream.” He said.

“I know.” Wren pushed him away. “Get off the bed. You’re wet, and you smell like a wet dog. Is it raining?”

“It’s Florida.” Said Brutus, sliding off the bed. “Of course it’s raining.”

Wren groaned. “What time is it?”

“Night.” The dog answered.

Dogs weren’t great at telling time. At least, not by the hour. To them, it was night or day. Evening or afternoon. Time to eat. Time to nap. Time to play. If only every person could work on their schedule, the world would be better.

A mug jiggled on a saucer and the smell of fresh coffee pushed away the unpleasant wet dog stink. Sandy’s head poked around the open door and the woman raised her coffee mug in a cheerful toast. Wren had never been so glad to see Sandy’s wide smile and keen feline eyes. Just knowing she wasn’t some Iron Oath goon had Wren wishing she could kiss her.

“You’re awake!” Sandy said. “Good. Good. I was worried for you! Oliver told us what happened. You used a lot of energy.”

“Oliver…” Wren mused, wishing she could have some of Sandy’s coffee. She wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, but the heady aroma and complete lack of caffeine was enough to turn anyone into a coffee fiend. “Kerri! Is she OK?”

“She’s going to be fine.” Sandy said. “Oliver did what he could, then Anika took over. She’s resting. Alive, and was complaining about the taste of Vampire blood earlier.”

Wren collapsed back on the bed with relief. “That’s good to know.”

“Come on downstairs. There’s coffee and some empanadas.” Sandy said.

Florian’s kitchen was light compared to the rest of his house, where the color palette made Wren think of a dark log cabin. Three windows let in plenty of outside light as the sun set over the horizon. Soon, Florian’s lanterns would flicker on, and their blue glow would illuminate the room. The counters were a white marble, polished to a mirror shine, and it smelled of fresh citrus. A large bowl on the island told Wren where that smell came from. It was full of oranges, grapefruits, and mangoes. Anika did know how to make her guests comfortable.

A cafetera bubbled away on the stove until Sandy moved it off the burner. The two stood around the kitchen while Wren drank the sweet caffeinated beverage and refilled her growling stomach with a couple of savory empanadas. As they talked, Anika joined in, the three women enjoying a conversation about their favorite shows and guilty pleasures. Wren enjoyed the feeling of a normal life, having a good chat with some friends. It was pleasant, and a memory she would hang on to for a while.

Behind her, someone let out a loud and chesty yawn before flopping their head onto the cold counter. Oliver blinked his eyes open, with his cheeks squished against the marble. He looked like someone who hadn’t slept in weeks, with bags under his eyes that made him seem years older than he was. Rather as old as he was once. Vampires ages always confused Wren and everyone else.

“Ah. The lovely couple is complete.” Anika said.

“Couple?” Wren blinked.

She rolled her eyes. “My dear. The two of you have something happening. Let me bask in it for a moment. To think times as trying as this brought two people together. You did admit there was a little a kiss, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t exactly…”

Oliver interrupted her. “It was a kiss. A lovely one at that.”

“Don’t!” Wren put up a finger. “Don’t act that way with me.”

He took her hand, clutching it to his chest before leaning over until he could whisper in her ear. “My lovely lady, I’m only doing what’s right. For you.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing him away from her. “Stop it. You sound like an idiot. I can’t believe so many women in the Iron Oath bought those lines.”

“Most of them swooned the moment I winked at them.” He smiled.

“Ew.” Wren said.

“Perfect!” Sandy laughed. “Two Iron Oath pawns turned on the good side. And they bicker like my Gran!”

As they all shared a laugh, Florian’s face turned every smile into a straight line. His phone was hanging in his hand as if he were about to drop it at any moment and his shoulders slumped so far forward, it was like something pushed on his back. The rather tall man had become a short and frail person, trudging through a swamp of sorry news.

“That was Paul.” He said. “The councils are all on alert. What’s left of the Iron Oath is moving against The Others. It seems they’re targeting our councils first. Atlanta saw two Werewolves murdered, and one of Paul’s thralls was thrown on his doorstep, drained of every drop of blood.”

Suddenly, the empanadas she ate earlier threatened to come back up. Wren put her hand over her mouth, ignoring the coffee she spilled on the counter. After seeing those documents, the videos, and what the Iron Oath could do first hand, Wren’s mind went into a spiral of horrible thoughts, wondering what they had planned for the councils of The Others.

The kitchen went so quiet that Spock’s little paws on the tile were like four cannons each time she stepped on the floor. Sandy’s cat had grown accustomed to sitting by a window and complaining about Brutus’ supposed horrific habits. The poor cat could not understand how a dog could go to the bathroom outside with no litter box. Her curled tail and pensive expression said she might be about to complain again, but once she disappeared around the corner, she rushed into the kitchen, yowling and screaming with her hair all on end.

“What?” Sandy shouted. “Dogs?”

“Brutus is up…”

Wren was interrupted by two very familiar dogs who stood in the kitchen’s doorway. Nero and Cesar had their hackles raised and their heavy jowls curled into sneers. Jacob stood behind them, a black jumpsuit hanging from his thin body, and two heavy leather leashes were clenched tight in one hand.

He, too, wore a snarl on his face, looking disgusted that he was in the presence of The Others. Every one of them were thieving vermin, squandering the beautiful magic meant for the whole population. Jacob sniffed with disdain, turning his head as if he couldn’t bear to look at the group any longer.

“You’ve all made a mistake.” He said.

One moment, Anika stood next to Florian. The next, she was behind Jacob, digging her manicured nails into his skin. He tilted his head to the side, leaning close as if he were going to kiss her on the nose. Then he opened his mouth and bit down hard, sending Anika reeling back with a shout. Nero and Cesar both turned around, making their way toward the Vampire.

In a flash of brown and cream fur, Brutus guarded Anika, growling at the other two dogs. They had faced off before, and he knew their scent. These two were not to be trifled with. Large, muscular mastiffs with eyes and ears tuned to one horrible person. The dog crouched down low, preparing to pounce if one of them moved.

“Wait!” Wren called. “One heard me. Whatever he’s controlling them with. It doesn’t…”

“It’s a serum.” Jacob spat out. “And it does work. You can’t speak to them. Only I can. They’re trained, Wren. Like a dog should be.”

Sandy frowned. “Every animal has a voice. These two do too. We’ll find it.”

“Be careful.” Wren whispered as Sandy moved slowly toward the two growling mastiffs.

“Oliver.” Jacob held the odd glass thing in his hands. “Enough. Do what I told you to the first time. Kill all of them.”

“What is that?” Wren asked.

“It’s The Hook.” Florian said quietly. “I’ve seen it once before and didn’t know what it was. Now I’m sure of it.”

Something blue settled in the bottom canister, looking like colored water. It was similar to the odd drug pumping in Isaac and Erin’s veins, and the same color of the rose’s petals. Another similar liquid was given to Nero and Cesar in the video Wren saw. She wanted to grab it away from Jacob, and find out what that blue stuff was and how it controlled The Others. But the wind was knocked from her as someone tackled her to the floor, pressing her face into the hard stone until she felt her nose begin to crack.

“Stop me!” Oliver screamed. “For feck’s sake! Stop me!”

He was thrown from Wren, crashing into the cabinets nearby. Florian and Oliver both grappled together, rolling over the floor in a rush of dark denim, black fabric, and light hair. Anika joined in the fray, becoming part of this Vampire merry-go-round that moved too fast for anyone to see. They growled and grunted, stopping every few seconds as someone crashed into a cabinet or a counter, creating gashes in their skin that left splatters of blood all over the kitchen. Soon, it was something akin to a murder scene.

Nero and Cesar both moved toward the two Druids, preparing to rip into their bodies until human or dog won the fight. Spock sailed through the air with a yowl. Her limbs were spread out and claws flashed in the light. She landed on top of Nero, sending him running in circles and snapping at the cat who hung on for dear life.

With a loud growl, Brutus jumped on Cesar, tumbling across the dining room with the larger dog. The two were batting at each other with their paws and sinking teeth into whatever was within reach.

Jacob stood in the middle of the fighting, looking like a man basking in the morning sun. He threw his arms wide, grinning at both Sandy and Wren. The Hook shook in his hand, as if he were taunting them with it. Wren recognized the brewing storm in his eyes. A monsoon of emotion, full of rage and years of brainwashing. Jacob was prepared to die, but someone was going with him. If not all of them.

The odd jumpsuit had two bulky pockets, large enough to hold a weekend’s worth of clothes if need be. One seemed to be weighed down with something, and he plunged his hand inside of it, producing a revolver that looked too old to shoot. The barrel stared at Sandy and then Wren, not knowing which person to lodge a bullet at first.

A crash of glass filled the room. Shards rained down on Wren. The crack of a gunshot echoed in her ears, making them ring instantly. She covered them with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut to protect them from the glass. Her eyes opened to see Jacob pitch forward, dropping the gun on the floor. Blood trickled past one ear, and a large gash had appeared across the top of his head.

Kerri stood behind him, grasping the dining room table for support. The two fighting dogs rolled dangerously close to her, but she could not move. The vase that once sat in the center of the dining table was now shards of blue and yellow glass on the floor.

“Wren!” Sandy screamed.

On instinct, she rushed to the sink, dumping the rest of her coffee out and turning on the faucet in one fluid motion. The water rushed into the cup like it was thick molasses, finally placing a few wonderful drops on the mug’s bottom. It was enough. The mug sailed through the air, flinging water across the kitchen floor. The bulk of it landed on Sandy, which was exactly what she hoped for.

The Druid cupped her hands together, turning those droplets of water into a hand full of liquid that sloshed like ocean waves. Soon, the water ran through her fingers, running onto the floor and collecting together in a puddle. It obeyed the Druid, moving backwards as if it were gaining momentum. As the water rose in the air, it expanded, dumping over Jacob’s head. He screamed and gagged in the never ending deluge.

Kerri limped to a planted palm, pushing it toward Wren. The pot toppled over, spilling dirt an inch from Wren’s feet. It was perfect. Rich soil, bought from a garden center that had put so many wonderful microorganisms inside of it. The soil was alive and reaching toward her for help.

A hand full was all she needed to make the grass lying dormant grow. A certain type of grass in the area grew on runners, stretching across lawns from property line to property line. The pale green runner shot from the dirt, snaking across the floor until it reached the man still being drowned by a few drops of water.

Jacob was distracted long enough for Wren to move. In an instant, the grass wound over the aged glass, pulling it from his hands and carrying it back to the Druid. The moment he realized The Hook was out of his grasp, Jacob went into a fit of rage, pushing through the water like it was a heavy blanket someone dropped over him. No matter which way he tried to move, the water followed. As did the long pale grass. It coiled around his body like a snake, ready to squeeze the fragile mouse it had taken.

Then silence.

Oliver leaned against a cabinet with his legs pushed out in front of him. His head lulled back with a heavy sigh, and a large gash on his neck was oozing blood. Anika lay down on the floor, spreading her limbs out and closing her eyes from exhaustion. Blood was splattered on her clothes, and one of her fingers looked like it was barely hanging on. Florian took hold of The Hook with blood smeared hands, smiling at Wren with two of his teeth missing.

Kerri moved to Wren and Sandy, looking like she’d exhausted herself from that bit of movement. She was still very weak from all the blood loss. Her legs were unsteady and sent her into a hard sit down right in a pile of dirt, which emitted nothing more than a sigh from the woman.

“I’m all wet now.” Sandy said, wiping the water away from her face.

“Brutus.”

Wren turned to see all four of the animals lying on the floor. Spock’s eyes were half closed. There was a bit of blood on her fur, but she didn’t seem to have any bad wounds. All three dogs were covered in scratches and bites, but none of them had gotten the most vulnerable parts of their bodies. Nero and Cesar raised their eyebrows, looking from Jacob to the Druids with confusion written on their faces.

“They need a Vet.” Sandy said. “I’ll take them soon.”

“Thank you.” Wren said.

“What do we do with him?” Sandy asked.

Jacob Stuart struggled under the rope-like runners, throwing muffled screams and threats at the entire room. Oliver came to a shaky stand-up, flashing his fangs at the man who had tortured him more times than anyone could count. It would be a pleasure for him to dismantle Jacob finger by finger, limb by limb.

“No. Oliver.” Wren put out her hand. “I know what to do with him.”