The Revelation
An Oceanside Visit

The window in the Iron Oath office brought in light during the day and add relaxation at night. It spanned the entirety of one wall, creating a break in the drab atmosphere. Wren glanced at the two palms opposite of her desk. They were grayed out with the darkness of night, missing the vibrant green and subtle symmetry on the thin trunks.

She tapped a stylus on the desk, looking around with a smug smile. It was a banned item at her desk, but Jacob wasn’t there to see her. Though she had the feeling someone was watching. It made Wren look at the window again, focusing on a patch of dirt where no grass grew. Her fingers stretched out toward it as if she were about to use her ability.

There was life under that soil. Most saw it as a dead spot, needing to be turned over and new seed planted in it. That wasn’t true. Tiny seeds and microscopic organisms were in there. They were waiting for someone to encourage them to live.

Wren closed her eyes, resisting the temptation to do just that. Having an item at her desk was one thing. Using abilities in the office would cause a fire worse than any Druid could ever start.

Her focus shifted to records highlighting Isaac’s supposed arrests and troubles. Every date was written on a notepad, and Wren aimed to cross-check all of them with the actual police records. Some dates were crossed out, already proven to be false. They were dates she recognized. Special days like birthdays or holidays where she and Isaac were together.

Oliver’s smooth dialect broke her concentration, along with Kerri’s inaudible response. She sounded like a mouse, squeaking to get away from whatever animal caught her in their jaws. She looked like one too, following Oliver while she tried to diminish herself and sink onto the floor.

“Good evening, Agent Hoffman.” Oliver said. “Might I call you Wren?”

“No you can’t. But that doesn’t matter to you.” Wren said.

He smiled. “No, it doesn’t. How is the investigation on your side?”

“Nothing much. Arrest records for Erin Neason.” Wren said.

When they walked in, she switched files quickly, pretending to investigate Erin’s records. A twitch at the corner of Oliver’s mouth caught Wren’s eye. She noticed how full his beard could be if he didn’t keep it trimmed daily. Likely the same as his well-oiled hair. While it was an outdated form of styling, she noticed the hair oil was the only way to keep it from looking like a black puff ball on his head.

His eyes smirked at her, taunting her to tell him what she had really been doing. Wren hated it when a Vampire did that. Their gaze felt like it was piercing through you, working itself into your head and reading every thought you had. Of course, they couldn’t read minds, but the discomfort they caused made people think it was true.

“We met her husband. Brian.” Oliver said. “He was very unhappy to see us. Especially me.”

“He tried to stake you.” Kerri said.

“He threatened to. I’m not surprised.” Said Oliver.

“One of The Others hates Oliver Faulkner? I can’t imagine why.” Wren’s response dripped with sarcasm.

“The same reason they hate you, I’m sure. We work for the Iron Oath.” He said.

“I doubt it.” Said Wren.

Oliver put an arm around Kerri. “My lovely partner saved me from his wrath. It was a beautiful display of authority. You’re lucky you have her working with you.”

Despite her intimidation, Kerri’s cheeks became the color of ripe strawberries, matching her lipstick. She smiled at Oliver, shaking her head and dismissing the compliment.

“I didn’t do anything besides what I’m supposed to do. He was getting out of control, and I told him what I could do if he lost his temper.”

“Kerri, Werewolves all have tempers.” Wren said.

“They aren’t allowed to assault people. Especially not Agents.” Kerri answered.

“Are we above people now?” Wren raised her eyebrows.

Kerri grimaced, inching closer to Oliver. He towered over the petite woman, looking like he would protect her from Wren’s admonishment. She bought into the act like a schoolgirl being flattered for the first time. Oliver’s hand rested on Kerri’s shoulder and she straightened up, prepared to argue her point with the backup of her handsome partner.

“That isn’t what I meant and you know it.” Kerri said.

“Let’s not argue. Kerri is right. Assault is illegal no matter who is the victim. Brian Neason was preparing to hit me and threatened to stake me. He didn’t try. Kerri is going to write the report.” Oliver said.

“You’re investigating his wife. Of course he’s mad. I don’t think that’s worth a report.” Wren said.

“Yes, it is.” Said Kerri.

“I’d say so.” Oliver said. “Ladies, I am hungry. Unless one of you are a willing donor…”

“No.” The reply came from both women at the same time.

Oliver laughed. “In that case, goodnight. Both of you.”

He left and the fog in the room lifted. Wren could see straight, and her thoughts focused again on the task at hand. Kerri was still caught in her own fog, watching Oliver’s uneven strides as he walked away. He paused, looking over his shoulder and smiling at Kerri, who quickly stared at her empty desk, trying to type on a keyboard that wasn’t there.

This brought on an entire head roll from Wren. The eyes wouldn’t cut it. Vampires always had the gift of seduction. Anika Hernandez was a queen, according to most human men and women. One ruby smile or a sparkle in her dark eyes and they’d melt at her feet. Florian wasn’t bad at it either. He used his deep voice to seduce, nearly pulling Wren under his spell when he whispered to her at the restaurant.

Oliver was no different. He flirted. He flattered. He used the taunting smile to his advantage, scaring and drawing someone in all at once. Kerri was one of many women who pined for him after he sauntered away.

“Kerri.” Wren gave her the opportunity to avert her gaze. “I need to show you something. I doubt you’ll believe me, but no one else will either.”

“What’s that?” She was still lost.

“Stop dreaming about Oliver. He’s flirting with you on purpose.” Wren said.

Kerri laughed. “Wren. I don’t like men. Oliver’s a nice-looking man, but he’s not for me.”

“You looked like you were melting over him.” Wren said.

“It’s nice to hear someone tell you that you’re doing a good job.” She answered, wheeling her chair to Wren’s desk. “Don’t worry. He’s all yours.”

“He’s…?” Wren pursed her lips, whipping her screen to face Kerri so fast that she nearly knocked it off the desk. “Look at this.”

“They’re Isaac Carillo’s records.” She said.

“They’re false.” Wren said. “Look. These dates here are all dates I know. This day? His son was born. I was there in the hospital with him and his ex-wife. He never left the place. How could he have been arrested? This one here? It’s his thirtieth birthday. I was with him. We weren’t in South Florida. We went to Tampa for the weekend.”

Kerri looked at Wren’s notepad and the screen. “Are you sure about this? These dates are right?”

“Kerri, I know Isaac’s birthday.” Wren said.

“You’ve only known each other for a few months.” She stared at Wren with arms crossed, waiting for an answer.

“No. I haven’t. We’ve known each other since I was fifteen. He’s one of my best friends. I know when his son was born, and I definitely know when his birthday is.”

Kerri softened, looking from screen to scribbled dates. “Maybe there’s been some mistake. If you look closer, maybe…”

“Agents!” Jacob barked at them as if he were giving an order. “What are we doing? Ah. Investigating our suspects. Good job. Kerri, I have something for you.”

Kerri and Wren exchanged a glance. “What is it?”

“I need you to check at the gym Erin Neason works at. She’s a Personal Trainer. I just texted you the address.” Jacob said.

“That’s important enough to bring you in at eight thirty?” Wren asked.

“Yes.” Jacob said. “It is. Wren, go home. You’ve been here all evening looking. Let Kerri do some footwork.”

“I don’t need…”

Jacob interrupted her. “You’re off the clock, Agent. Goodnight.”

Wren waited for Jacob to run into his office and hastily open the blinds. He pretended to be checking messages, but his eyes showed clouds brewing over the sea. If the two of them didn’t leave soon, there would be hell to pay.

“He did that on purpose.” Kerri whispered.

“I know he did.” Wren said. “He’s hiding something.”

“No, he isn’t.” Kerri frowned. ’He probably knew you’d try to keep your friend out of trouble.”

“Kerri! That’s not what…” Wren stood up. “Forget it. I knew you wouldn’t believe it. I just thought if someone… never mind.”

“Wren wait!” Kerri tried to walk after her.

“Agent!” Jacob yelled. “The gym. Now!”

Kerri stood in place, looking between angry partner and angrier boss. Her mind was fighting with itself, wanting to go after Wren and find out if any of it was true. But Jacob had his eyes fixed on her, and she felt like he knew what she was thinking. Sometimes, he was worse than a Vampire. Instead of going after Wren, she stuffed a notepad in her purse before smiling at Jacob and waving good night.

The salty spray from the ocean surf cleared Wren’s mind like nothing else. It was like breathing in a brand new day each time. Each breath washed away the anger and clouds from the office, pulling them back with the waves and bringing her new, clear thoughts with every quiet lap on the shore.

Brutus pounced on the sand nearby, chasing down a wayward hermit crab. The crab seemed to be furious with the dog, waving its pincers in Brutus’ face. He let out an excited bark, not planning to harm the crab but enjoying the little game he had created. The crab wanted no part of it and continued to scurry toward the safety of the water. Wren stared at the horizon then closed her eyes, listening to the lull of the waves and quiet chirps of gulls nesting nearby.

“You’re terrible at sneaking up on people.” Wren said. “The last time, you did much better.”

“There was no last time.” Oliver answered her. ’I didn’t sneak, either. I wanted you to hear me, so I didn’t scare you. Can I sit?”

“I thought you were someone else.” Wren said, patting the sand next to her as if it were a cushion.

He settled in to the seat, removing his sneakers and stuffing his socks in them before pushing his feet in the sand. Oliver wrapped his thick arms around his legs, resting his chin on his knees. It was like looking at a child who was seeing the ocean for the first time. His eyes stared in awe at the stillness of it, knowing that the same tranquil water could cause destruction beyond belief.

“Who did you think I was?” He asked.

“Anika. Anika Hernandez. I think you know her.” Wren said.

His brow furrowed for a moment and hurt crossed over his face. He brushed it away with a shrug. “Yes. I knew her. A long time ago.”

“Did you turn her?” Wren asked.

Oliver smirked. “I see you know her better than I thought. I did. I turned her. It was for her and for Florian.” Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Wren turned to face him. “You turned someone against their will for their own good?”

“No.” Oliver shook his head. “She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live. That was the only way I could save her.”

“She mentioned that.” Wren said.

“Sometimes it’s too late. That’s happened before.” Oliver paused. “When someone wants to live, you know. You feel it in their heart. It strains to keep beating, begging you to let it continue. Their entire essence is willing them to stay alive. When it’s too late, it’s…”

Wren raised her eyebrows at his sudden stop. “It’s probably sad.”

“That’s right. It is.” He nodded.

Brutus ran to them, placing two sandy paws on Wren’s shoulder. She pushed him off with a laugh, dusting the sand off of her shirt. “Hey! No jumping.”

“Is this your dog or familiar?” Oliver asked.

“Both.” Wren said, scratching Brutus’ ears. “Brutus, this is Oliver.”

Brutus sniffed Oliver’s hand, staring at him with big brown eyes, before he decided about the man sitting next to his best friend. “Hello!”

Oliver laughed. “Did he speak or bark?”

“He said hello.” She said.

He gave Brutus a pat. “Hello, Brutus. You’re taking care of your Mum, I hope.”

“Why are you here?” Wren asked. “You followed me. That’s obvious. Did you want something?”

“No.” Oliver shook his head. “You’re the only Other in this organization, Wren. I thought we might be friends.”

“Your introduction said otherwise.”

“Because you do know who I am. Florian told you the story. I’m a monster. A killer. No feelings and no mercy. I’m sure you think every rumor is true.” He said.

“Are they?”

Oliver stared out over the water. “Some of them are.”

“Are you going to kill me for combing over those records? Is that it? Did Jacob send you here?”

Wren moved away from Oliver, grabbing a hand full of sand. Brutus changed his tune, raising the hair on his back and baring his teeth in warning. Every emotion his person felt transferred to him. It was a bond Druids shared with their familiar. They were fiercely protective of their person, and the Druid offered the same.

Oliver raised his hands in the air. “I’m not here to do anything. Jacob doesn’t know where I am. He thinks I’m feeding.”

“I hope you already did.” She said.

He took her hand, placing it on his wrist. “Yes. I did. Are you satisfied?”

When a Vampire feeds, they are as alive as any human. Their heart beats, their blood flows, and they can take a breath as deep and as cleansing as any person. It only lasts for a short time, but during that time, the Vampire remembers what it was like to be fully alive — not in the limbo between life and death.

“I believe you now.” She answered, smoothing Brutus’ hair down. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t know.” He answered, “I shouldn’t be. I have work to do.”

Oliver stood up, walking away from them as if he were going toward someone that was just out of reach. He moved like he was about to spread his arms open and beg them to come near. It was a strange movement that Wren wasn’t familiar with. No Vampire she knew of ever went in to any sort of trance, but Oliver seemed in one.

“Oliver?” Wren said. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine.” He answered. “Don’t tell Jacob I was here.”

“Why?”

“He won’t like it.” Oliver jerked his shoulders like someone was holding him in place, keeping him from turning to face her. Finally, he pushed on one shoulder, allowing himself to look at Wren. “Don’t trust him.”

“Jacob?”

“Jacob.”

“Can I trust you?” Wren asked.

“No.” He answered. “Never trust me.”

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