The Revelation

The next night, Florian’s home became the center for activity and planning. He allowed Oliver to come in with the promise they would finish things later. It was too close to finally getting what he wanted. Too close to telling the world what the Iron Oath really is. In order to do that, Oliver Faulkner had to stay alive. For a short time.

Sandy had gone to warn The Others, leaving Kerri in the care of Anika. She sat on the sofa in between Anika and Florian, still looking like a child who had been disciplined. She crossed her arms tight over her chest and slumped into the cushions, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Even Brutus’ attempts at getting her to smile were answered with a harsh shove to place his paws on the floor.

No one spoke when Oliver walked in, aggravating Florian by acting as if he were a welcomed guest. He slid into an easy chair facing the other three and forced a smile. The way his lips curled into a sneer even made Wren angry with him. He was taunting Florian. He knew he was untouchable for the time being. He relished it.

Wren sat on the edge of Oliver’s chair, swiping at his leg to move it away from her. She scooted close to the edge, watching Kerri for any signs of betrayal. The woman was angry, but she was also hurt. Unlike Wren, Kerri wanted to be part of the Iron Oath all her life. She was raised in a small town where none of The Others lived.

Her backwards upbringing taught her that The Others were outsiders, inhuman, and unnatural. They required a firm hand, or they would be out of control. Someone with authority and wit had to be part of that. Someone who could help them see how to live among humans.

She came in to the Iron Oath believing these lies. Knowing that she was a person who could gently guide The Others to the right way. The Iron Oath’s way. Neither she nor Wren knew what was beneath the surface. Not until that night. Wren suspected, but pushed most of it away, choosing to believe what she’d been fed for years. She was more angry with herself than anyone. Kerri had every right to feel betrayed by the people she once admired.

“I assume you know where they are, Oliver?” Florian said.

Oliver nodded. “I think I do, yes. They won’t take them to Orlando. It’s too far. They want them closer. There’s only one place. It’s near Homestead. Can you get a van or a truck?”

“I’ll have one within the hour.” Florian said.

“Kerri.” Wren said. “What’s your plan?”

Kerri closed her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You have a decision to make.” Anika said.

“No, I don’t. If I run back to the offices, you’ll kill me before I get there.” Kerri said.

Anika shook her head. “No. No, we will not. You can choose to go back and tell your superiors everything. It will make it harder on us.”

“It will kill everyone in this room.” Oliver said. “Including you, Agent Fuller.”

Kerri scowled. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“No. You don’t.” He smirked.

Brutus lay down at Wren’s feet, moving his eyebrows back and forth as he watched the conversation. Wren was the only one who truly knew he heard every word. She was also the only person he worried about. But there were other people there. Other people who were afraid. Especially Kerri.

For the second time, Brutus padded over to her, laying his head in her lap. Finally, Kerri ran her hand over his soft head and cracked a tiny smile. That was enough for the dog to feel accepted. Both of his big paws settled on Kerri’s knees and he gave her a happy smile.

“Dog breath.” Kerri groaned. “Yuck. Don’t lick my face! Wren! Call your dog!”

“Brutus.” Wren said. “Thank you.”

“I’m ready to go.” Brutus said.

Wren buried her face in the dog’s fur, enjoying the comfort such a companion can bring. When no one else listened or heard her, he did. He was her closest family member, and he was ready to walk into certain danger for her sake. And the sake of her friends.

“You’re not coming this time. I want you to stay here. You might get hurt, and I can’t bear the thought of that.”

Brutus whined. “I should be with you. What if you need my help?”

“I hope we don’t. Please, stay here.” Wren said.

“I think I may have a nice piece of pork he can enjoy. I’ll find a blanket for him.” Anika offered.

“Thank you.” Wren smiled.

In response, the dog let out a happy growl and rushed over to Anika. His tail thumped against the floor as she scratched behind his ears. “I do miss having a pet.”

“You can get one when this is over.” Oliver rolled his eyes. “What is the status on our transportation, Florian? Is your donor trustworthy?”

Florian looked at his phone. “They are a thrall. Of course I trust them. It will be here presently.”

“We should prepare to leave, then.” Oliver said. “I suppose Agent Fuller is coming with us.”

“I don’t have a choice!” Kerri protested.

“Yes, you do.” Wren said. “You can stay here with Brutus. No one is going to come here and hurt you. Or you can take our lives in your hands and go back to the office. We won’t stop you.”

Kerri watched her shoes make patterns on the rug, going from dark to light in tiny swirls. Two headlights beamed in the front window, and Florian silently moved to see who it was. Moments later, he returned with a set of keys in his hand and nodded to Oliver.

“We need to leave.” Oliver said. “If we have any hope of getting this done before morning.”

Kerri felt every eye on her. She knew what her choice was over an hour ago, but did not want to admit it. Finally, she let out a long sigh.

“I’m going with all of you. I need to know.” Kerri said.

No one asked how Florian’s thrall got the van. As far as they knew, it was legal. Wren hoped it was. The last thing anyone needed was to be pulled over. Especially with three Vampires, one Druid, and three of them Iron Oath Agents, all in a large black van with windows as dark as Oliver’s stupid sunglasses.

The lights of Miami made shadows run across the door, playing tricks on Wren’s mind. A lit billboard became a person, reaching out for help. Two street lights became a weapon pointed at her. The further south they went, the more the lights faded, and the shadowy hauntings were nothing more than shapes on the door handle.

Oliver pointed for Florian to take an exit, then settled back in the seat. He glanced next to him, watching Wren grow tense. Her hands grasped the handle as if she was about to open the door and jump at any moment. He reached out to touch her arm, giving her a nod to reassure the woman that they would do everything they could.

There was no sense in lying to her and saying it would be all right. If anyone knew that wasn’t true, it was Oliver. Wren and Kerri were about to see what the Iron Oath truly is underneath their pretty facade. The politics and promises were there to hide the most sickening zeal targeting innocent people.

The van turned on a long drive, illuminating a large black gate with a key card reader in the front. It was like any other warehouse or storage space. Heavy red metal doors were faded from the Florida sun, surrounded by beige concrete. The dim flood lights over each door created small spotlights that seemed to be a threat to the residents of the van. Those spotlights would expose them to the world. Or at least, the Iron Oath.

“How do we get in?” Florian asked. “Shall I break the gate?”

“You idiot.” Oliver rolled his eyes, climbing over Florian to stick his Agent card in the reader.

A green light came on by the main gate, and it opened up without issue. Wren raised her eyebrows at Oliver. Most Iron Oath Agents didn’t have clearance, and she recognized the symbol on the box. It was for higher ranking Agents that had access to classified information. Until the previous day, she thought that was information for the government. Now, it made total sense.

“That was easy.” Florian said.

“It won’t be so easy.” Said Oliver. “There are cameras everywhere.”

“How do we get in?” Wren asked. “Can you disable them or turn them off?”

“No.” Oliver shook his head. “If we go in, Jacob knows we’re here. We had better hurry.”

Florian’s eyes flashed. “You knew there were cameras! You knew we’d be spotted!”

“As if you aren’t already a target after the last twenty-four hours.” Oliver rolled his eyes.

“If I kill you right here, then…”

Wren interrupted Florian. “Then Jacob loses the attack dog. And we’re probably all dead, anyway.”

Oliver looked hurt. “I am not the attack dog. I have a job to do. That’s all.”

“You’ve done it well, apparently.” Florian said.

“I think we all knew that we’re risking our lives coming here. We need to move fast.” Said Wren.

“Oliver, which one is it?” Asked Anika.

“I don’t know. Don’t look at me like that, Florian. I am not lying. It’s best we split up. None of these doors are locked, because no one can get in without their access card.”

The breeze brought on a hot and sticky feeling. For any Floridian, it was the unmistakable sign that rain was coming. The clouds blew in quick, blocking out the nearly full moon and shrinking the spotlights on the ground. It was a blessing in disguise. If the rain fell, it might obscure some cameras and provide them with a bit of cover.

Wren paused when she put her hand on the cool metal, looking behind her one more time. Florian and Oliver had already disappeared behind open doors. Kerri across the cracked pavement, staring at her. The two nodded at each other before both opened a door at the same time. Then Wren turned her back on her partner, knowing once she walked inside, she and Kerri would be former partners.

Kerri shielded her eyes inside of the room. It was an open space that spanned two or three of the units. Bright yellow lights made to where she could see the smallest speck of dust on the ground, but there wasn’t a single piece of dirt. It was sterile, smelling of a hospital, but something was on the back of it. Something odd, like hay or a barn.

Quiet electronic chirps sounded from the other end of the room. As Kerri’s eyes adjusted to the light, her jaw dropped open. One half had large iron bars crossing from one wall to the other. A giant cage to house something very large. Off to the side was a bed of sorts, created with wadded up blankets that looked more like a nest.

The other side of the room was the source of the noise. A standard hospital bed, surrounded by monitors and an IV pole. The bag contained a strange looking liquid in it that seemed to swirl with a life of its own. It trickled down the small plastic tube, feeding the medicine into an arm covered in golden fur.

“My God.” Kerri whispered.

Laying on the bed was a woman whose face contorted in pain. Her nose and mouth were elongated, and her arms were thinning. The woman’s hands curled up as if the paws were preparing to sprout, but hadn’t quite done it. Somehow, this Werewolf was in a partial shift.

Kerri rushed to the woman, lifting her head gently. “Hello? Can you hear me? Are you Erin?”

The woman opened her partial snout, trying to form words. All that came out was a desperate growl. Someone moved to Kerri’s side, making her heart jump into her mouth. She scowled at Anika for a moment, still cradling the Werewolf’s head in one arm.

“What…?” Anika leaned over. “What is this?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Kerri said. “We have to get her out.”

“Hold on, dear.”

Anika ripped the medical tape away from the woman’s arm, placing a hand over her skin as she pulled the IV tube away from her. A strange smell filled the room as the blue liquid leaked out onto the sheets. It was like the sweetness of honeysuckles, with a deep earthy undertone. Something akin to soil after a rain.

The woman groaned in pain, shifting back into her human form. Her eyes opened to look at her saviors. They were glassy with a faraway look to them. Yet the woman still gave Kerri and Anika a lopsided grin and giggled her thanks.

“Drugs.” Anika sighed, throwing one of the monitors against the concrete wall.

“This is Erin Neason.” Kerri said. “I recognize her.”

“That means Isaac is here too.” Said Anika. “Let’s get her in the van.”

Wren found herself in a similar space. The same odd cage, along with a hospital room full of monitors and an IV feeding liquid into a body. It looked like a body, at least. The person seemed sedated, and every breath was a heaving rise and fall of their barreled chest. They had been through a fight or five, and had the wounds to prove it.

Their eyes were both blackened and swollen shut, and their lips were cracked and gray. Offensive and defensive wounds covered their arm and knuckles. As Wren moved over to the person, a dry and metallic taste filled her mouth. She choked on her own breath, holding back a sob. The tattoos on the knuckles were partially scraped off, but she knew the letters across and in between each knuckle.

Emilio.

“Isaac.” Wren whispered. “Isaac! Wake up!”

She struggled to move him, trying to lift a man Isaac’s size was difficult, and with Isaac unconscious, she could do nothing but slide him to the edge of the bed. Wren gritted her teeth, willing her body to lift him. She tried to slip her arms under his shoulders and yelled when her own limbs gave out under the strain.

“Come on, Isaac! Help me!” Wren yelled.

Her muscles grew so tense that she could no longer try to lift him. She felt like her whole body had been overtaken by wood, turning herself into a sturdy branch that was rooted in the floor. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and stayed there, trying to calm the rapid heartbeat in Isaac’s chest. Hers matched his, beating so fast that Wren was certain every Vampire in Florida could hear them.

One Vampire did hear it. Oliver rushed inside, stopping himself at the edge of the bed as he looked over at the wounded man.

“Help him!” she said.

“I’ll take him.” Oliver said, lifting Isaac as if he were picking up a sack of potatoes.

“He’s dying!” Wren sputtered. “He’s dying. Isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Oliver said.

“Do something! Save him!” Wren squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold her emotions at bay.

“I can’t.” Oliver said. “He’s a Werewolf, Wren. You know what will happen.”

“You have to!”

Footsteps rushed across the pavement, and Florian’s head appeared inside. “Go! Now! There are cars coming!”

They all three ran the short distance to the van. The wind was blowing harder, and a quiet drizzle fell, stinging Wren’s skin with the tiny droplets that would soon become rain. Oliver gently deposited Isaac in the back. Erin was lying there with her eyes wide open, trying to speak but unable to form words. Knowing that Erin was found too, at least, gave Wren some relief as she climbed into the back with Isaac.

The moment Oliver shut the door, Florian pressed on the gas so hard that Wren’s head hit the window. She screamed for him to be careful, making sure that it didn’t injure Isaac any further. His body was covered in bruises and wounds, looking like he had been in a fight with a shifted Werewolf. Parts of his clothes were torn and jagged, and deep claw marks dragged across his torso, as if the Werewolf were trying to rip him apart.

Kerri noticed the wounds too, throwing a fearful glance toward Erin. Wren didn’t know they saw Erin in a partially shifted state, and it would stay that way for now. Isaac’s breathing grew more labored as his lungs filled with fluid, choking him with every breath.

Wren looked at the three people who might have been able to save him. Her eyes blurred over with tears as the rain fell against the windshield. There was nothing any of them could do for Isaac. A Werewolf can’t be turned. If they do, on the next full moon, they would die the moment their body fought against itself to shift.

They were all watching Wren, but her eyes were on Isaac’s battered face. She watched his mouth open, gasping for the precious oxygen he needed before his own lungs stopped just short of taking the needed breath. His hand was limp inside of hers, unable to hold on and tell her he was going to be alright. She shook her head, wishing she could speak but knowing that she’d only cry.

Kerri sniffed and turned away, not wanting to upset Wren further. Florian reached a hand across the seat, taking Anika’s hand inside of his. It was like she could hear what the Vampires heard. Isaac’s heart beat slowing until there was nothing left but a strained pulse, struggling to move the blood through his veins. Then it stopped.

The downpour drowned Wren’s sobs. She laid her cheek against his forehead, feeling how warm he was, and praying that somehow he still lived. But there was no life left in the body. Only a shell of a person who had been with her most of her life. Their last moments together were stuffed in a borrowed van while her tears wet his skin.

She rocked back and forth with Isaac’s body in her arms. Her chest couldn’t seem to suck in enough air, and her face felt so hot that the tears seemed to turn to steam. Someone’s heavy arms wrapped around her, whispering for her to let him go. No, they said let herself go. Grieve. Cry.

“I’m sorry, Wren.” Oliver whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Anger welled up inside of Wren until it came out in a flurry of screams, ending with a question directed at the body under her hands.

“How could I let this happen?”