The Revelation
A Suspect

Isaac Carillo. A suspect. There’s no way. Wren thought to herself.

The rest of the ride was in silence while Wren and Kerri listened to their own music. She kept throwing looks at Wren, knowing that her partner’s drawn face was going to get both of them in trouble. She couldn’t understand why Jacob asked her not to tell Wren. If they both knew, they could have questioned Erin and Isaac without an issue. Instead, they have to go back and question the suspects. After Wren and Jacob have it out.

Kerri sunk into the passenger seat, preparing herself for the boxing ring their office was about to become.

The beginning of the conversation went better than Kerri expected. Wren and Jacob spoke in even voices, discussing why two Werewolves were suspected when they had alibis saying they were at the Sanctuary. Wren had more questions about the crime, and Jacob dismissed it.

Both of Jacob’s dogs lay next to his chair, raising their furry eyebrows any time the volume on someone’s voice turned up. Nero and Cesar were the only animals allowed in the office, two mastiffs, purchased from an overly expensive breeder that promised champion lines. Both of them had long jowls that constantly drooled on the floor or someone’s unfortunate pant leg.

Long ago, Wren gave up on trying to communicate with the dogs. They could not - or would not - speak to her. When asked, Jacob only answered with he had his ways, and left it at that.

As the argument began, Nero rolled over on his side with a quiet groan, stretching his legs in front of him. He and Cesar both grew used to Wren and Jacob going at it, and they were more intent on having a nap than listening to it.

“Agent Hoffman, I won’t argue with this anymore.” Jacob said. “They are suspects. I know Isaac Carillo is a friend of yours, but we believe…”

“What reason?” Wren demanded.

“Look at the files. I will not explain it to you!”

“Wren, if we go back and question them after looking at the files, we can avoid all of this.” Kerri said.

“I want to know why.” Wren said.

Jacob shrugged, lifting a wiry leg and putting it on his desk. The other leg swung on top, and he put his hands behind his head as if he were about to take a nap. He opened his mouth wide, yawning with boredom.

“I said go look for yourself. Again, this isn’t up for discussion. Investigate the crime, Agent. That’s your job.”

Wren picked up a pen from the black mesh holder on the desk. She imagined throwing the entire thing at Jacob, hopefully breaking his nose with the force of her throw. If he gave her a straight answer, she wouldn’t have been so angry. But Jacob always enjoyed toying with people. He was the king of the concrete cell, and no one would question his rule while he looked down on them from his faux leather throne.

Cesar huffed, placing his snout on Wren’s lap. She ignored the drool, scratching the dog’s head absently. Wren looked at Cesar’s tail wagging and his ears perked up with the idea of some attention. Yet it did her no good. She felt disconnected from Cesar and Nero, like they were foreign objects that she couldn’t quite figure out. It was how Wren felt about the entire office.

“Alright. I’ve got somewhere to go. Alone.” Wren said.

“You are not going alone, Agent!” Jacob called after her.

“Yes. I am. If Kerri comes, no one will talk to me!”

As she grabbed her jacket, she glanced out the window. The Florida sun was setting over the horizon, casting an orange glow on the empty desks in the office. Soon, the light blue twilight would creep over the ocean and cover Miami in darkness. That’s where she needed to be. Covered.

Sunset Grove was a restaurant that required reservations to get into. No one could pass the velvet-covered entry way without confirming their identity. Wren had to take the chance, hoping to replace her target inside.

The place was a spot for Vampires to replace donors, with a feeding lounge opened every night. Vampires could feed freely on willing donors, while the humans they dined on enjoyed a meal of their own. It was a legal establishment that followed all the Vampire sanitation laws to the letter, and it cost more than Wren made in a week.

She walked through two large walnut doors with metal braces criss-crossing in the center. It looked like the entrance to a castle, with an arched doorway and dark red brick. The front lobby was lit only by candles, throwing long shadows on the wall that made Wren feel like a wayward Vampire might jump on her at any moment.

A hostess walked to the large wooden podium, opening their reservation book. She had the strangest perfume on. It reminded Wren of wood smoke with a touch of vanilla. Most Vampires didn’t care for smoke. The woman probably wore it to keep a hungry guest away from her neck.

“Welcome to Sunset Grove. I’m Dominique, and I’ll be assisting you this evening. What time was your reservation for, please?”

“I don’t have one.” Wren said.

“I’m sorry, we don’t seat anyone without a reservation. You can call or visit our website for openings.” She said.

Wren reached in her purse, producing a black case that held a badge inside. It was solid gold in the shape of an anvil with a Fleur-de-lis over it. Her Iron Oath badge usually helped in situations like this. Junior Agents had a badge of bronze, but Agents higher up had badges made of more precious metals.

Dominique stared at her distorted reflection in the badge, and the woman’s smile faded to a straight face. “I can assure you, Agent, that nothing is happening in here. As you know, we have a feeding lounge open nightly and we have our monthly inspections. There’s no reason to allow the Iron Oath inside.”

“I’m not asking to inspect the lounge.” Wren said. “I’m asking for two of your patrons. I need to speak to them. Is Florian Di Votti or Anika Hernandez here tonight?”

“I can’t tell you.” Dominique answered.

“Please. I need to speak to them.” Wren leaned on the wooden podium, trying to press in closer to the woman.

It was an intimidation tactic and a gamble that Wren lost. The young woman straightened her back and squared her shoulders, pointing a bright pink painted fingernail in the direction of the door.

“If you come back with a warrant, you can come in. If they’re still here.”

Wren smiled. “Then they’re here.”

“And you still aren’t allowed in.” She said.

“What do you want, Agent?” Anika’s fingers tapped the open door.

“I need to speak with you and Florian. I’m sorry for interrupting your night, but I think it’s important.” Wren said.

“Is it official?” Anika glanced at her badge.

“No. It’s not. Someone needs your help. Someone who isn’t a human.” She said.

“This woman is our guest for the evening.” Anika addressed the hostess. “She can come in.”

“If she has any weapons, they need to be checked.” Dominique said.

“I don’t.” Wren lied. “I said it isn’t official business.”

She walked through the door with Anika, feeling Dominique’s glare bore a hole through her back. The Sunset Grove was like the ocean at night, navy blue, with only a few lights struggling to break through the darkness. Flickers of candle light showed shadowy faces of Vampire and human alike, all of them turning toward Wren and Anika as she led the Agent further down the crimson carpeted aisle.

“What do you want?” Anika whispered. “We’ll be banned from here for something like this.”

“We need to speak in private.” Wren said. “I want to talk to both of you.”

Anika sighed, “A moment.”

She stopped in front of a circular booth covered in shining black leather. The small table had a single candle illuminating the confused face of Florian Di Votti. A woman sat next to Florian, shrouded in darkness. Wren could only see the heavy gold bracelet on her dainty wrist and a flash of blue silk.

Near Florian was a man with a bronzed complexion and hair that reminded Wren of the sand when the sun hit it just right. He stared ahead with a blank expression until Anika stopped in front of him. Then, a grin formed on his face and his arms reached out to her.

A Thrall. Wren thought. I should have known.

Vampires had thralls to do their work for them during the daytime. Sometimes, a thrall was useful for a quick meal, or other errands. Someone enthralled by a Vampire went into it willingly, knowing they served the Vampire until one or both broke the enchantment. This young man was smitten with Anika and her curvaceous hips. He wouldn’t break the enthrallment for all the money in the world.

“I’ll see you another night.” Florian said to the woman, toying with her sleeve. “Thank you. I’m sure there’s a dessert cart on the way.”

The woman giggled, teetering back and forth before scooting to the edge of the booth and standing herself upright. As if by magic, a waiter rolled a cart to the group, showing off some of the most delectable pastries. Wren licked her lips at a shortcake topped with sweet strawberries and covered in a mound of freshly whipped cream. The woman grabbed the small plate and stumbled to another booth.

Florian wiped his mouth with a red linen napkin, removing the remnants of blood from his lips. “Agent Hoffman. Are we in trouble?”

“No.” Wren said. “Someone else is.”

“She’s asked to speak in private.” Said Anika.

“I know. I heard you both. So did every Vampire in the restaurant. I do hope this is important enough to interrupt us. Otherwise, someone may make you their next meal.” He said.

Wren took a slow and steady breath, feeling the eyes of every Vampire in the restaurant on her. It was like they were staring at her neck, waiting to bite in to her flesh like the shortcake Wren saw a moment ago. Her pulse pounded in her head, making her feel like she needed to sit down. If she did, someone would notice.

Anika twirled a finger around a strand of hair while her male companion laid his head in her lap. She looked at Wren with a satisfied smile, glancing down at the puppy, who was curling at his mistress’s feet.

Florian snickered. “Yes, we can hear it, Agent. Every one of us in this room can. It’s rather endearing to hear a pulse so quick. Especially when we’re all so hungry.”

“I’ve never been a donor.” Wren coughed. “I’m not starting tonight.”

“Then we should get you away from here before someone sweeps you off of your feet. Connor has been without a regular donor for so long, and he does love dark hair.” Florian removed himself from the booth, followed by Anika, who left her biggest fan lying on the leather, pining away for her return.

Wren’s eyes squinted when a light switch clicked on. It was like someone waking you up early in the morning before the sun rose. Within a few seconds, the private room came into view.

A small black table sat against one wall, and two fainting couches were arranged against the other. Both of them covered in a velvet-like deep red fabric. A miniature fridge sat between both of the couches, along with a large first aid kit.

The smell of heavy incense choked Wren. It was being pumped into the room from somewhere, and reminded her of a head shop with beaded curtains and a lady laden in crystals manning the counter. It was earthy and far too heavy on the patchouli for her liking.

These were the private areas of feeding lounges. Rooms where a Vampire could tear in to a willing donor, making quite the mess that someone else would clean up for them afterward. Usually, these rooms were reserved for the highest paying customers, because no one spoke about what happened inside.

“Get her a drink, love. She needs to clear her mind.” Florian said.

“I don’t want a…” Wren was interrupted by a quiet hiss, and Anika handing her a can of soda. “Thank you.”

“Now.” Florian settled himself on one of the couches. “What is it?”

“The Iron Oath suspects Isaac Carillo and a new Werewolf of illegal hunting.” Wren said.

Anika rolled her eyes. “Yes, we’ve all heard about the illegal hunt yesterday. I’m surprised they created a suspect so quickly. Regardless, this involves the Werewolves, dear. Why tell us when you could tell Isaac himself?”

“Florian is the eldest in South Florida now. Everyone - The Others and Iron Oath - know that the Vampires have more sway than the rest.” Wren said. “I think you should tell everyone. Not just Isaac.”

“Tell them what? That Isaac is a suspect?” Florian asked. “He would go into hiding and come back when the Iron Oath set their sights on another made up crime.”

“We don’t make up…” Wren sighed, shaking her head. “I’m not arguing right now. Something is wrong. I was at the crime scene last night. There was a body, and it was hunted. But, things aren’t adding up. The body was just there. No signs of struggle. No fight. No blood trails. A Werewolf wouldn’t have done it.”

Florian leaned forward, stroking his angular chin. “You saw the entire crime scene? All of it?”

“Yes. All of it. It was like someone had dismembered the victim right there in the alley. There were bite marks, but nothing else. No fur. No claws on the pavement. Nothing to tell me a Werewolf was there.” Wren said.

Anika put a hand on Florian’s shoulder. “If what she’s telling us is true, then it’s happening again.”

“I know.” Florian nodded. “Agent, you are certain.”

It wasn’t a question, but a confirmation. Wren nodded. “Jacob Stuart is my boss.”

“I know of him.” Anika said the last word like she was spitting on Jacob’s shoes.

I’ll ask later. Wren thought. “He’s not happy you both live here. Why?”

Florian closed his eyes. “Because I beat the Iron Oath once. Many, many years ago. Long before Jacob or you were ever born. They tried to come in to our new world. We were only colonies, creating a life together. The Iron Oath met resistance with us, and I was the leader of that resistance. They sent me a message.”

“What was it?” Wren asked.

“My best friend. My brother.” Florian continued. “He betrayed me and my family. They sent him to kill my wife and son. He succeeded.”

“I’m sorry.” Wren frowned. “The Iron Oath did that? Are you sure? It wasn’t your friend acting on his own?”

Anika scoffed. “When I was still human, my husband aided a Vampire the Iron Oath was chasing. The man ran to the Yucatan Peninsula, and we hid him. But they found him. And they found us. My husband was killed for helping. So was the Vampire. I would have died that night if it wasn’t for someone turning me.”

“You were turned against your will?” Wren asked.

She did not realize the cold soda in her hand had gone warm thanks to her palms sweating like someone about to go on stage for the first time. She leaned forward on the edge of the couch, about to slide off and fall on the floor. If she did slide away, she would have planted herself on the floor and continued to listen.

“No.” Anika shook her head. “I didn’t tell him to do it, but he somehow knew.”

“The Iron Oath did that too. That’s what you are telling me?” Wren asked.

“My dear Agent.” Florian smiled. “The same person who killed my wife and son killed Anika’s husband.”

“Your best friend? This was at least two centuries apart.” Wren said. “Who?”

“Oliver Faulkner.” Florian answered.