The Revelation

December 1635, Virginia Colony

“Why?” She whispered.

Once, she reminded him of the flowers in spring. Her cheeks and rosebud lips were like the blooms that covered the grass when the winter went away. Now, her lips were white with fear, and rivers of tears ran down her face.

The boy lay next to her, his blond curls turning crimson as his hair wicked into the pool of blood he lay in. He was only nineteen years of age, barely a man. Life had not begun for him, yet it was taken from him in an instant.

That was his plan. Take them quickly. Don’t make them suffer. One day, they would understand.

The one who would not understand stood lashed to a post, limp from the blood loss he sustained during their brutal fight. He struggled against the leather bindings, groaning for mercy, begging for the lives of his wife and son. Tears collected in his eyes, creating a sea of grief that both of them would drown in before the night ended.

Her hand grasped hold of his arm, smearing bloody fingerprints on the pristine white linen. She gasped out the question a second time. Why? Why would he do this to his own family?

When he wrapped her in his arms, it was like holding a baby bird in his hands. She was so small and delicate, even after the years of hard work in the settlement. Those harsh winters and trying times in Jamestown did not toughen her fair complexion. Nor did they put a weight on her shoulders that was visible on every person walking those dirt paths.

The only answer he offered was to brush his hand over her slender neck, finding the exact spot her heart beat the strongest. She would go quickly then. No pain. No suffering. Just like the boy.

A cry of desperation came from the other side of the room. Boards thumped against his screams as he tried to muster the strength to break free. His hoarse voice begged again. Please, don’t.

She gasped when the sharp fangs dug into her skin, ripping away at the vein until blood poured from the wound. He didn’t stop there. His fangs dragged across her neck, opening the flesh like a paper parcel. One. Two heartbeats. That was all it took for her to go limp.

He laid her gently next to the boy, squeezing his eyes shut. The pleas continued. A sound of sadness that came from the depths of the heart. Desperation that would not be soon forgotten, and a betrayal that would not be soon forgiven. If he only understood why. There was no choice.

The tears that threatened to spill over were swallowed back as he left the home. Left the screaming. There was no time for emotion. Only revenge on the people who did this. They would pay for what they forced him to do. Even if it took centuries.

Modern day, Miami, Florida.

The warmth of Miami’s sun didn’t quite reach the concrete panels of the Iron Oath offices. Even the picture window spanning an entire wall never let the glow of Florida’s palm trees and tropical breezes waft inside. It was a cage. A cage made of solid cement, halogen lights, and dreary black desks lined in rows.

Every morning, the employees walked in with the same routine. The coffee and tea bar should have been a welcomed sight, but it was part of the strict organization the Iron Oath stood for. Each mug belonged to a specific Agent or employee, and they were arranged in order of rank. Every tea bag and silver pitcher of cream never changed. Even the smell of the coffee remained the same. It was always a stagnant and bitter aroma that hovered over the open office. Until that morning.

She was the first Agent to notice the difference. She walked through the doors, surprised that she inhaled the full-bodied scent of freshly ground coffee. A mug with a dog’s paw on it already had a tea bag placed inside. She’d be in trouble for that. It all had to be uniform. Regulation.

The hot water bubbled from a dispenser and she turned her head, watching two double doors that remained closed. She counted to three. The doors opened, and a thin man stepped out, taking quick strides toward her.

“Wren!” He yelled.

She raised the mug to him. “I know. Stop putting the tea bags in the mug at night. I can do it in the morning. It’s unsightly.”

“I don’t care about that right now. I need to introduce someone to you. Someone you’ll be working with.” He said.

She stared at her boss, Iron Oath Captain Jacob Stuart. He was a wisp of a man with a wiry build that made him look like he could be blown away by a strong wind. At one time in his life, he might have been handsome, but age and stress gave him sagging jowls and a permanent worn out expression. Hints of the man he used to be remained in his eyes. They were a sparkling blue like the ocean on a sunny day. Every emotion Jacob experienced seemed to be in the blue, whether it was a turbulent sea or a calm surf.

Wren observed him, looking for signs of a storm. The seas were calm today, and that was enough for her.

“Who am I working with?” She asked.

A voice bubbled behind her. “Kerri Fuller. It’s good to meet you!”

An all-American girl with eyes like the sky and strawberry blond hair gave Wren a rehearsed smile. It was like a contestant who practiced for hours in the mirror. There was no feeling behind it, and no true smile. Just a beauty pageant winner, ready to shake the hand of the next judge.

“Wren. Wren Hoffman.” Wren said.

Kerri’s eyes widened. “Wren Hoffman? As in the Druid Agent?”

“That’s me.” Wren nodded. “Did you expect me to look different? Covered in leaves, maybe?”

“No, I… I don’t know what I expected.” Kerri said.

It was no surprise to Wren that Kerri thought she’d look like a hippie slathered in patchouli and beads. Most Agents were surprised to meet a woman who looked like she belonged in a corporate office and not running through a forest naked. Wren rarely smiled, but had a hard stare that never seemed to falter. Her long and graceful neck made her seem to hold her head a touch higher than anyone.

But the woman’s appearance defied the perceived haughtiness. She was most comfortable in leggings and cropped shirts, looking like she was always ready for a run on the beach. At work, Wren stayed in simple fitted shirts and slacks, but she always wore sneakers in place of the required dress shoes. Jacob always took issue with it, but stopped trying to write her up for non-uniform dress years ago.

That was the way with Wren. He let her get away with more than most of the Agents. Likely because she was one of The Others. And that was Kerri’s problem with her.

The Others had been living with humans since the beginning of time. Vampires, Werewolves and Druids made up only a small population of the world, but they had always been part of it. The Iron Oath was formed during the Dark Ages, when the Vampire population got out of control, wiping out a fourth of Europe after a plague. The Iron Oath kept every one of The Others in line, working with modern law enforcement and local governments to do whatever was needed.

Most of The Others despise the Iron Oath, denouncing them as a corrupt organization bent on ridding the world of the three groups of people. Schoolchildren created stories about the Iron Oath killing or experimenting on their own. As they grew older, the stories became more fantastical and less believable. Yet, The Others continued to insist it was the truth.

Wren was one of three Agents in the world who was one of The Others. A Vampire and an unknown made up the rest. Being a Druid, Wren was the only part of The Others that can be truly accepted into human society.

Druids don’t have abilities that heighten their senses like Vampires or Werewolves. They don’t shift into something otherworldly or require blood to sustain themselves. Druids can hide in plain sight, keeping people oblivious to the fact they can speak to animal familiars or use the part of nature that chose them. As long as no one sees the birthmark that denotes them as a Druid, no human would ever know it.

Wren didn’t see a reason to hide her abilities, but the Iron Oath kept her restricted. No unauthorized use of Other abilities while on the job. Her familiar and beloved dog, Brutus, could never come to work with her, and he could certainly not be part of any case.

It was the most aggravating part of the job since Wren hoped Jacob and the Iron Oath might see what The Others offer them. Her views caused many scrapes and arguments within Jacob’s tiny office. Most of them ending in Wren storming out or Jacob yelling obscenities after her.

“Jacob, are you expecting us to be partners?” Wren asked.

“Yes. You’ll be partners from now on. Kerri is fresh from the Police Department in South Carolina. I’d like you to help her get her feet wet.” Jacob said.

“Mister Stuart.” Kerri interjected. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to work with someone else. A more experienced Agent?”

“Wren has been with us for over a decade. How much experience do you want?” Jacob said.

Wren closed her eyes. “She doesn’t want to work with one of The Others. Give her another partner.”

“I don’t think so.” Jacob shook his head. “You and Agent Fuller will work well together. She knows the rules by heart already, and you need some work on that. I expect protocol to be followed every second of the day. I have a feeling your new partner will help with that.”

“You’re kidding.” Wren sighed.

Jacob turned on his heels, squeaking the soles of his shiny shoes on purpose. “Show Agent Fuller to her new desk. Then, check your assignment. It’s an easy one for the two of you. And get going fast. It’s time sensitive.”

Wren grasped the mug in her hands so tight that she nearly broke it. “Fine.”

“And Wren.” Jacob looked over his shoulder. “Don’t take the dog.”

“His name is Brutus!” Wren shouted after him, but the doors of his office already closed. “Ass hole.”

“I don’t think you should say that to a Captain, Agent Hoffman.” Kerri said.

Wren gave her the same stare everyone else in the Iron Oath received when they annoyed her. A stare where her eyes grew large and round, and the look of complete disdain was so apparent that the poor victim shifted their weight back and forth, wishing they could wriggle away from the vines that choked them in place. It was Kerri’s first time experiencing it, and she responded by looking at the floor, stammering an apology.

Without a word, both Agents walked across the gray floor until they reached a round desk that was split in half by an imaginary line. Two plush chairs sat on either side, and two identical laptops were on the desk. Someone had prepared for Kerri’s arrival, making sure everything she needed was already sitting across from Wren’s spot.

“Nothing personal on your desk. No photos. No knick-knacks. Just your laptop and organizer. That’s it.” Wren said.

“Nothing?” Kerri asked. “Even at the department, we could have a picture.”

“Nothing.” Wren sat her mug on the desk so hard that a few drops of tea sloshed out onto the polished surface. “Except your mug. Bring one of your own or find one. I’d suggest bringing one.”

Kerri didn’t answer. The two grew quiet as they hid behind their laptop screens, not bothering to look at the person directly across from them. Quiet typing was interrupted by a gasp from Kerri’s side of the desk.

“Florian Di Votti? Is this for real?” She squeaked.

Wren stared at the first assignment of the day. A routine check on one of The Others. Routine checks were nothing out of the ordinary. It was a courtesy that all law enforcement allowed the Iron Oath. When a new Other moved into a town, the local Iron Oath office sent Agents to do a check on them. All of their information on the database was updated, and the Agent evaluated the safety of the person.

It was something Wren despised doing. Those checks made her feel like a criminal. Although she was an Agent, the Iron Oath conducted one on her every time she moved. It was enough to keep her in the same house, even though she was more than capable of affording a better home.

The most recent check was likely meant as a slap in the face from Jacob. It was a name Wren knew well. Everyone in the Iron Oath knew his name. Florian Di Votti was an Elder, a Vampire over five hundred years old. He had spent the last two centuries fighting them at every turn, including using his exorbitant amount of money to lobby against any law the Iron Oath tried to pass.

Along with Florian was a second name Wren knew, Anika Hernandez, Florian’s long-time girlfriend and a rather well-known businesswoman. Anika owned a boutique fashion line that became very sought after in some wealthy areas of the country. She also despised the Iron Oath.

A loud sigh came from Wren while she looked into the database to make certain the records of both Vampires were up to date. She frowned when part of Florian’s records were sealed by the very top of the organization. Even a more senior Agent like Wren wasn’t able to access them.

“Interesting.” Wren said.

“Hm?” Kerri peered over the laptop. “What’s that?”

“Nothing. I sent the information to our tablet. We can take that with us.” Wren said.

“We’re leaving?” She asked.

“Yes, we’re leaving. They’ll be asleep soon. We need to get to them before then.”

Wren pointed to a rack that spanned one wall. Purses and a couple of light jackets hung from the iron hooks. They were serious about nothing personal at the desks. Even a wallet or car keys had to stay in pockets or go on the wall.

“I walked here.” Kerri said.

“I didn’t.” Wren said. “We can take my car.”

“I hope it doesn’t smell like dog.” Kerri grumbled.

Wren stared at her, keeping her temper at bay for the time being. “Are you kidding me? Do you think I keep wild mutts or something? How do you know about my familiar?”

“I did my research. There’s only three of you in the Iron Oath.” Kerri frowned. “I don’t know what you do.”

“We can keep it that way.” Wren snapped. “Let’s go.”