The Revelation
Not Forgotten

Anika disappeared into her room, bringing back a box for Florian to use. It was an old wooden box, yellowed and worn with age. At one time, something had been carved on the top, but Anika would not say what it was or where it was from. Only that Florian should use it to bury Oliver’s ashes.

It sat on Florian’s shiny black table like a coffin on display for a funeral. Kerri, Wren, Anika, and Florian sat around the box as if they were looking at someone in their casket. An uneasy reverence settled over the room, keeping everyone from speaking above a whisper. Even the hum of the air conditioner and crackle of the fake fireplace seemed to interrupt the makeshift funeral.

Wren half expected quiet piano music to be playing, and the smell of fresh flowers to fill the room. Every funeral she had been to was full of people coming to remember the dead. The last one was too recent, and she felt a tightness in her chest, wondering how many more were going to be grieved before this was over.

According to most of The Others, Oliver wouldn’t deserve even a tear. He was a merciless killer, targeting Others and their families on behalf of the Iron Oath. Many of them would think Wren didn’t deserve redemption, either. She didn’t care for Oliver very much. She knew what he had done and knew what type of person he was. But the arrogance and intimidation was an act. There was a short time where Wren saw him for who he is — was.

Anika took her hand, giving her a warm smile. It was like she knew Wren’s thoughts and somehow felt the grief. The woman’s hand was small and cold, with no heartbeat behind it. Yet, the warmth of one person trying to comfort another was still there. It helped.

“What are you going to do, Florian?” Kerri asked.

“Bury him.” Florian said. “There are two palms near the water. I think he’d like it there.”

He rested his elbows on his knees, hunching his tall frame over until he looked like someone who was almost feral, ready to pounce on the box and break it open, scattering the contents on the floor until Oliver sprang back to life. Florian’s smooth forehead wrinkled with thoughts only he could understand. The grief of a friendship, and the satisfaction of revenge. Both were at play, making him want to rejoice and cry all at once.

“We’ll join you.” Wren said.

“Are you OK with doing that?” Asked Anika.

She nodded. “He warned me about this. Oliver said he’d die for it. The least I can do is be there when he’s buried. Most Vampires don’t get that chance.”

“No.” Anika shook her head. “Most of them have their ashes scattered across floors or into the wind.”

“Sometimes, that’s fitting.” Said Florian. “I think Oliver would prefer a burial. He always had some old-fashioned thoughts. Come everyone, let’s do this properly and we’ll plan our next move.”

“It’s not the best time, but I’m going with Sandy tomorrow. Did you want me to ask anything?” Wren said.

Florian looked out at the shadows of waving palms in the yard with a smile, saying he knew something Wren did not. “No. I’ll talk to her. Enjoy yourself.”

The Druids met once a week at Sherwood Florist, a reputable flower and garden shop in Miami Lakes. Kevin and Ronan Anderson owned the shop, and made it a friendly place for Others and Druids alike. Wren’s reflection in the glass door reminded her of a scared child. Her shoulders were pressing forward and her head down, as if she were going to beg pardon to a pair of disappointed parents.

Brutus padded behind her while Spock sat in the crook of Sandy’s arm. The large cat did a balancing act, nestling herself against Sandy’s chest and rubbing patches of hair onto her blue shirt. No one would pay it any mind. Most Druids could never get rid of the animal hair. It was on their clothes, furniture, and beds.

When Sandy opened the door, a blast of cold air made Wren’s cheeks go from hot to tingling. The overwhelming scent of a garden in full bloom came with the air conditioning. Flowers and different plants lined the floor, sitting happily in their large and small pots. When the Earthquake walked past them, the plants seemed to stretch out to her, as if they were children begging to be picked up.

The instinct was to snatch up each plant and take them home, filling the place with all manner of greenery and vivid blossoms. Any Druid with the affinity for the earth fell in love with every plant they saw, whether it was a cactus or a wild bloom sprouting from the ground. Wren knew Ronan Anderson had the same affinity as she did, but Kevin was a mystery. In fact, all the local Druids were other than Sandy.

They walked past a glass case where smaller plants sat in refrigeration. A cash register stood on top of the case, along with a small shelf of green tissue paper and matching paper bags. Behind the register case was the door labeled “Employees Only.” Without looking to see who was there, Sandy opened the door.

Ronan and Kevin’s break room was the true nursery. Broken stems, plants near wilting, and flowers on their last leg were scattered through the room. One large potted palm sat next to an old sofa that had lost much of its filling. It was nice to see that Druids are the same no matter what. They care little about their furniture and things, and care much more about taking care of their plants and animals.

Kevin sat next to his husband, trying to narrow his eyes at Wren and match the other two in the room. He looked like a fun guy with a smile that constantly played at his mouth and couldn’t be hidden behind his eyes. Despite his distrust, the warm greeting threatened to come out.

India sat at an old table with blue stripes on it, reminding Wren of a fifties style diner. Her icy eyes focused on Wren, nearly causing her to stumble backwards. India’s gaze was more unsettling than a Vampire on a bad day.

Ronan kept his hand on the head of a Golden Retriever, sitting like a bodyguard who protected the other Druids in the room. His face was as chiseled as his arms, and the bulky build was intimidating. Like the rest, he was not happy to see Wren Hoffman walk in to his store.

“We promised.”

Sandy addressed the three Druids, holding Wren’s arm like she was leading a child into the courtroom. Spock had bounded from her arms, meowing a greeting at India’s parrot who squawked out, “Pretty bird! Pretty bird! I love you!” Once the bird realized the guest was a Druid as well, she chirped an apology and spoke like an actual parrot, greeting Wren with full sentences.

Brutus tapped his feet with excitement, finally rushing to the two Retrievers in the room. All three dogs greeted each other with growls and whines, excitedly exchanging names and life stories while the customary butt sniffing began.

“We promised we’d let her come, Sandy.” Said India. “Nothing more than that.”

“I don’t blame you.” Wren said. “I’d feel the same way. If it helps, I’m not with the Iron Oath anymore.”

“It’s a start.” Ronan’s voice had a touch of gravel to it, like he had smoked for too long and couldn’t get rid of the evidence.

“Didn’t you get questioned with the indictments?” India asked. “What happened?”

Wren stood in front of them like someone giving an embarrassing oral report. “I was cleared. So was my partner, Kerri Fuller. Most of us in the lower ranks didn’t know what really happened. That’s why so many Agents left before the indictments and arrests. We were horrified. I was — I’m still dealing with it. My best friend is dead because of this.”

“I told them what you told me.” Sandy said. “You don’t have to go through explaining it again.”

“What about the Iron Oath?” Asked Ronan.

“They’re still out there. Florian Di Votti encountered an Agent last night and…” Wren rubbed her lips together. “He killed Oliver Faulkner.”

A collective exhale went through the room. The relief was palpable. A member of the Iron Oath with the worst reputation had been removed from the world. Many Others would sleep easy that night knowing Oliver was dead. To Wren, the pang of sorrow still hit her, and she only wished she could see Oliver at the beach one more time. There was so much about him they didn’t know or understand. And she never would.

Kevin raised his hand like he was in school, speaking in a soft voice. “How do we fight them now that they’re in hiding?”

“I don’t know.” Wren sighed. “I really have no answer. You know Oliver gave me those documents and I handed them to Florian. He and Anika warned me I’d start a fire. I didn’t realize what I’d done. I feel like we’re stuck. Like there’s no ammunition left. These things are public. So, now what do we do? Wait for them to come after us?”

“We’ll figure it out.” Sandy said. “I’m working with Florian and the Neasons.”

Wren stared at the floor. “Did they take over the pack?”

“They did.” Sandy patted Wren’s arm.

“Isaac would be happy about that.” She said. “They were good friends.”

Kevin sighed, pushing away from his husband before standing up and throwing his arms out to Wren. “I’ve heard enough. You’re welcome here anytime.”

For a moment, she hesitated, unsure if he was offering a hug or just announcing his decision. When he stepped forward and wrapped his thin arms around her, Wren closed her eyes and laid her head on the man’s shoulder. She had not felt so comfortable in a long time. It was like a warm blanket wrapped around her, keeping her safe from the monsters hiding in the closet. Monsters that were very real, and ready to take all of them on.

Ronan cleared his throat. “If that’s Kev’s decision, it’s mine too. We’re about to have dinner. You like vegetable korma?”

“I love it.” Wren said.

“I’ll put on a kettle.” India moved to the small stove in the break room, placing an old tin kettle on the burner.

Mugs lined the narrow counter. Each one of them had their own. A flashback to her days at the Iron Oath offices where the mugs were all in perfect rows, and Jacob always yelled at her for fixing the tea before it was time. These mugs were of different shapes, sizes and colors, with tea bags and tea balls scattered on the counter.

Wren’s days of uniformity and struggling against her very nature had ended. She was with her own, able to speak openly with the animals surrounding her, and able to talk and laugh with four others who understood the way she lived.

Jacob Stuart and the Iron Oath were still out there. Still planning and plotting against them. With Oliver dead, Wren and her closest people would be their first targets. But for one day, she forgot about that and finally lived as a Druid.