Chapter Text
With your feet on the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it,
Your head will collapse, if there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself
“Where is my mind?”
Swaths of dense green surrounded him in the dark forest; the only light came from the crescent moon overhead. The air was heavy with a storm approaching and smelled of peat and blood. It was hard to breathe, but he had to keep running. His feet pounded into the hard-packed soil, stumbling over rotten vegetation and roots that seemed to reach out to grab at him, but he couldn’t slow down. If he slowed down then the monsters would catch him, and if they caught him then he couldn’t save her…
There was a flash in the distant trees; and he saw her. Her white dress and blonde hair caught the light of the moon, a flicker of hope in him that he wasn’t too late. And then, a growl ripped through the air followed by a scream. No. He had to run faster. Faster. He pumped his legs as hard as they would go, but she just kept getting further and further away. He couldn’t help her if he couldn’t reach her.
Blood. He could smell it, stronger now. It was her’s, he just knew it. A figure darted across the trail; dark and shadowy; human, but not. Another scream, and then silence. No birds or insects, even the sound of the rain stopped. All he could hear was his own panting breaths as he continued to run until he found… someone. Lying in the middle of the trail. Feminine, in a white dress; but the hair was stark white, and her skin was desecrated and rotting. More blood. He could still smell it; and when he approached, he saw her lying in a pool of it, soaked into her dress. He didn’t recognize her, but she seemed oddly familiar.
Another growl was his only warning before that dark figure lunged at him, his red eyes burning and his teeth, sharp and nasty.
“Nick! Nick!”
He sat up straight in bed, the sheets twisted around his legs. Juliette stood over him, her brow creased as she sat next to him.
“You were having another nightmare,” she said softly, her tone even and comforting. “Was it the same one?”
Nick groaned, shifting back against the headboard as he pressed his palms to eyes, trying to stem the migrain he felt already coming on. “Yeah,” he said. “The forest, and a blonde woman in a white dress.”
“Should I be jealous?” Nick looked up at his girlfriend. “I’m kidding. Kind of.” She shifted next to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders to pull him against her. He let her at first, but his head was splitting and he just needed some water and ibuprofen. He pushed away from her and got up to walk into the bathroom. “That’s the third time this week,” she called after him as he reached into the medicine cabinet. Like I don’t already know, he grumbles to himself. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He tossed a few pills into his mouth before leaning over to drink straight from the tap. “No,” he groaned. “Well, yes, I do. I just don’t know how. It’s the same as every night.” He leaned against the sink, recalling the gruesome scene. “I’m running through the forest, chasing after a girl. But when I reach her, she’s already dead. Then something jumps at me.”
“What?” Her voice was closer now, and then he felt her arms wrap around his midsection. He looked up into the mirror to see her standing behind him, her auburn hair draped over his arm as she rested her head on his shoulder.
“I don’t know. A monster?” He thought for a moment then laughed. Because there’s no such thing as monsters. Only the ones that he arrested, and they were still just human beings. Before he could think about it any longer, his phone rang. He moved back across the bedroom to pick it up, the contact Dispatch flashing on the screen before he answered it, “Burkhardt.”
“10-55. Forest Services found a body, mangled and dismembered on Wildwood Trail in Forest Park. Police requested to determine if it’s a homicide. Rangers will meet you at the Springville Road trailhead and guide you from there.”
Nick sighed. “Understood. Thank you.” He turned to Juliette, who was still leaning back against the sink watching him. “I’m sorry, Juliette. I’ve gotta-”
She held up her hand dismissively, a sad smile on her lips as she began to walk out of the bedroom downstairs to start making breakfast. “It’s fine. Later.”
He was warned this would happen. He was warned, but he wouldn’t listen - he didn’t want to! And why would he? His Aunt Marie had been sick for so long he was sure that the cancer had been messing with her memory, let alone her sanity. She told him about the family curse, that he would begin seeing things that others couldn’t, if he hadn’t already.
“I’m a cop, Marie, that’s kind of my job,” he had joked, but she didn’t laugh.
“Not as a cop, Nick. As a Grimm.”
A Grimm?
He scoffed as he stared at his reflection. What a joke. He desperately wanted to believe that.
“It will start with the headaches. Dull, at first, until the pain becomes so blinding you’ll be desperate to do anything to make them stop. And then the dreams.”
The dreams…. The headaches were already happening, but he could have easily played them off as stress. Between his job and Juliette…. He had wanted to propose to her. He had the ring and everything, still in his sock drawer, but Marie had warned him about that too.
“You have to let her go, Nick. It won’t be safe for her.”
“I can take care of her! I can take care of us both!”
“Not from this! It’s too dangerous, Nicky,” she gripped his hand hard. “Promise me that you won’t drag her into this.”
He started the shower, and removed his sleep clothes when his hand brushed against the pendant he kept around his neck.
“Take care of this. Protect it, like it’s precious,” she whispered as she pressed the small, ornate bar into his hand. “It is precious! And it can’t fall into the wrong hands. More than anything, Nick, promise me that!”
The panicked look she had looked at him scared him more than anything she was saying, so he agreed. He had taken the pendant and kept it securely around his neck, promising never to take it off willingly. She passed two days later, and that was when the dreams started. The forest. The girl. The monster with the glowing red eyes.
He got dressed as quickly as he could, knowing that the Rangers wouldn't like to be kept waiting and that a body in the woods could lose evidence quickly. When he arrived at the trailhead, a few Rangers and a Forest Service Officer were already tapping their feet impatiently, with Hank and the coroner waiting nearby. He heard one of them grumble, “About time,” as he fast-walked up to them.
“Got here as quick as I could,” Nick sneered back as he passed them by, gesturing for them to lead the way. He nodded at Hank who just gave him an amused smirk and followed behind the Rangers.
“Good night's sleep?” He asked, still smirking. “Or did your morning get interrupted?” Nick just glared at him, not even bothering to answer.
When they reach “the body” it was really just an arm and a pink shoe, and Nick couldn’t help but be a little peeved. There was no crime scene tape as he looked around. “Hey, can we create a 500 meter perimeter, please?” There were a few grumbles from the surrounding Forest Service Officers, but lo-and-behold, less than 100 feet to the West the rest of the girl’s mangled body was found. An eerie feeling twisted in Nick’s gut as he looked around the forest, struck by how similar this crime scene is to his dream. When he looked down at the girl’s body, her eyes were open and her mouth twisted into a scream as her throat had been ripped open and eviscerated. Nick frowned, trying not to show how affected he was by the sight of her. A boot print right next to her lifeless form caught Nick’s eye. “I got a print! Can we get a cast out here?” She had no ID, but an iPod was found not far from her body - again, this is why they have a perimeter - “Sweet Dreams” playing on repeat through the headphones attached.
~~~~~
“No human could have ripped that poor girl apart like that, Nick,” Hank argued when they were back at their desks at the station, filling out paperwork and waiting on anything about who that girl might be. “I think we should turn this over to the Forest Services. They won’t be happy about it, but that means they won’t have to work with us. Especially you.” Nick glared over at Hank who just laughed, trying to lighten Nick’s sour mood. “Man, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?”
“Nobody,” Nick snapped, “I didn’t get to have any breakfast, ‘cause I got the call right out of bed.”
“Ohh,” Hank said slowly, leaning forward, “that’s why you smell like flop sweat and morning wood.”
Nick couldn’t help but laugh wryly. “Hank, do me a favor and stop worrying about my morning wood,” he jabbed back as Sergeant Wu approached their desk.
“Woah,” the sergeant laughed, “I’m just gonna pretend that I didn’t just hear that.” He handed the pair a missing person’s report. “For one Sylvia Oster,” he said, “a college student who never returned back to her dorm after her morning run, last seen wearing a red hoodie and pink sneakers.” The hoodie was missing from the body however, and that gave Nick pause.
“An animal wouldn’t take her hoodie,” he looked pointedly at Hank. “It wasn’t found within the perimeter, so someone must have taken it. I’m telling you, Hank, this isn’t a case for Forest Services.” Nick snapped more aggressively than he meant to and earned a scowl from Hank. “I’m sorry, man,” he sighed, reaching for the bottle of ibuprofen he’s taken to keep on his desk. Ever since the nightmares started.
“Do we have a contact for the roommate yet?” Hank turned to Wu, changing the subject for the moment.
“Working on it,” Wu said warily, eyeing Nick. “Why don’t you guys go take a break. I’ll give you a call once I have something.”
Hank looked at Nick curiously when Wu walked away. “You feeling alright?”
Nick settled back into the seat with a huff, clenching his fists at his knees. “Yeah,” he said tensely. “Yeah, I’m just… hungry and I didn’t sleep well.” He looked off at Hank.
Thankfully, Hank let him be, knowing that Nick will talk to him if and when he wants to. “Alright… let’s get something on the way back to the station then,” he said, getting up and patting Nick on the shoulder to get him to follow. “I don’t really want to be stuck with Detective Hangry all day.” They grabbed a sandwich at a place near the station. Hank paid, but stopped him as he’s getting into the car. “Ah, not in my baby. You wanna eat it now, we eat it here.” Nick just rolled his eyes as he leaned back against the car door, beginning to unwrap his food.
That’s when he saw her. Blonde hair caught the sunlight like a candle flickering, and he almost missed it, so wrapped up in his food. But, no, that’s impossible because he never actually saw that woman’s face, the one from his dreams. He felt his pulse quicken and something on his neck began to burn, right on his clavicle. It was subtle at first, but then it sears him and he has to almost crush his sandwich to keep from dropping it as he slaps his hand on it and hisses.
“You alright?” He heard Hank ask distantly, but he just nodded as he rubbed the spot.
His eyes followed her. She was smiling, laughing with a friend as she exited the coffee shop across the plaza. Wisps of hair blew into her face and she brushed it away, turning and… locking eyes with him. She smiled at him.
“You know her, Detective?” Hank ribbed, leaning against the car next to him. “Care to introduce me?” Nick shook his head, answering both questions. “Well... then what are you looking at? Cause you already got a girl at home, and I might just be in the market for wife number five.”
Nick turned sharply to him, feeling a heat spread from where he still clutched his shoulder and down into his chest and gut. “I’m not,” he huffed defensively. “She just looks… familiar, is all.” When he looked back at her, she was saying goodbye to her friend, a bright smile still on her face. “And nothing but trouble,” he tried to joke. “She wears Armani suits, makes low six-figures, drives a BMW, and is in love with a senior partner whatever firm she works at.” Hank just gave him a teasing hum, shoulder bumping him and told him to hurry up.
But, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of her, and neither can she. Her eyes were sultry and lidded with a coy smile playing on her lips; it looked like she was about to come up to him when a shiver went through her and he saw her hiss in pain and grab her shoulder - the same place he did. She glanced back up at him, a little more panicked when her face rippled and something like a shroud dissipated around her like tissue paper in water; melting away to reveal a skeletal, desecrated, walking corpse of a woman with white hair. Nick jumped, dropping his sandwich. She shivered again and the beautiful woman from before faded back into place. He took a step onto the curb but she began fleeing from him like he was the one who changed into… a monster?
“I’m not buying you a new one,” Hank chastised him. His phone rang and he began walking around to the driver’s side of the car as he threw out, “And next time you see a pretty girl, say something. Don’t just stare at her until she freaks out and runs away.” He wanted to go after her, following her quick steps down the streets, but Hank called out to him, “It’s Wu, we got in contact with the roommate, and we gotta go meet her now.” He grumbled about not being able to finish his food before tossing the rest into the trash can. When he noticed that Nick still hadn't moved he called out to him, “Nick!” Finally, Nick snapped out of it, turning to face his partner. “Geez, man! You sure you're okay?” Nick could only nod as he got in the car, his hands shaking a little.
Sylvia’s roommate was waiting for them on a bench in front of her dorm building, shivering and wiping away silent tears. Nick swallowed his attitude and switched to the most compassionate tone he could muster as he greeted her. The roommate gave them a photo of herself and Sylvia, taken only a week ago, confirming that she was the victim they found that morning. She was as helpful as she could be, seeing as her sobs became harder and harder to hold back. She gave a description of Sylvia’s morning routine; get up, get dressed, brush teeth and shower before heading off to the same running trail she always took: if she didn’t run directly from her dorm, west on Willamette Boulevard and across the St. Johns Bridge, she would park at the Ridge Trailhead and loop around the Briarwood trail.
“What about the Wildwood Trail?” Hank asked, looking up from scribbling in his notebook.
“Wildwood? No, she’d have to run twice as far. Unless she went off the path.”
Hank glanced over at Nick, subtle but pointed. “Thank you,” he said quickly to the roommate. “I’m sorry for your loss.” She nodded and turned to run into the building as quickly as possible. Nick watched her as she went and could swear he saw her face shift and morph into a birdlike beak and feathers burst through her skin. On the way back to the car, Hank spoke up, “Going off the trail? A cougar or a wolf could have easily-”
“So could a man,” Nick interrupted as they moved briskly to the car. “If someone followed her from the trailhead and saw her cut into the forest? It wouldn’t be hard to flank her in all those dense trees.” The scent of blood and peat crept back into Nick’s memory, and that face….
~~~~~
That face is all Nick can think about for the rest of the day. He should have gone straight home, but he was still haunted so he went to the only place he could think of to get answers. The hinges on the door to the trailer squeaked as he opened it, looking around the quiet storage yard before climbing inside. It was just as Aunt Marie had left it in his driveway before he moved it.
“It holds all the secrets to our family,” she whispered. “I know you don’t believe me now but, when you’re ready for the truth you’ll find it there.”
He didn’t know if he was ready, but after what he saw today, he needed it. The warm glow of the lights flickered on with a hum, illuminating the Old World relics contained within the trailer. An antique apothecary cabinet was covered with different bottles of herbs and colored liquids, some of which smelled like the station’s gym locker room. A huge armoire dominated the far back corner, and opening it had him stumbling back in shock at the armory stored within; filled with medieval weaponry ranging from crossbows to some kind of double-sided axe. At the center of the trailer was a huge dark wood table with intricately carved legs covered in old, leather bound books and more were stacked against the walls of the trailer; hand written and filled with strange drawings of creatures. He sat heavily in the chair, sighing as he began flipping through the aged pages. The illustrations seemed to portray animal-human hybrids. Fuchsbau? Jägerbar? Löwen?
Blutbad.
He would know those eyes anywhere. The artist took great detail to color them in with red ink so that they would be unmistakable. Is this the creature that he sees in his dreams? The one that chases that girl and attacks him? How can that be if he’s never seen one before, and he’s never looked at any of these books. From his childhood, perhaps?
“The color red seems to incite these Wesen into a frenzy,” he read. “I have never been able to discover why, as when I come across a Blutbad under such influence I find the best recourse is to simply remove their heads before they can do the same to me.”
It all sounded like something out of a storybook! Perhaps that’s all these were, stories! That or the mad ravings of a lunatic! Only that would mean that all of these books were filled with mad ravings all with different authors if the vast array of different handwriting is anything to go by. Unless the family curse is really just the family insanity.
Another book caught his eye. Most didn’t have any titles, a few had a stylized ‘G’ on the front, but this one had the title ‘Hexenbiests’ carved into a leather plate across the front cover, and the pages seemed more worn that others, like it had been handled most out of all the books in the trailer. He pulled it towards himself and carefully opened it, flipping a few pages until he came across an illustration that nearly made his heart stop.
“Her outer beauty is but a clever disguise, hiding the ugly, wicked hag that she really is…. This witch has terrorized this poor Romanian village for decades and has been whispered about in the tavern only by the bravest souls who call her Baba Yaga.”
That face, the one from his dream and that he saw in the plaza earlier that day, or at least something like it, was staring up at him from the page. Decaying skin and cracked teeth, empty, hollow eyes. He swallowed thickly and slammed the book shut. He sat, staring at the cover of the book for a while, willing himself to open it again but his fear made his hand shake every time he reached out to it. His phone ringing snapped him from his reverie.
“Burkhardt.”
“Nick? Where Are you?”
“Juliette? I’m, uhm… I’m doing research for a case,” he said, willing his voice not to shake. It wasn’t a complete lie, he supposed.
“Oh, well it’s nearly nine o’clock. Are you coming home soon?”
He swallowed again, finally reaching out to open the book once more. He stared down at it as he answered, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m almost done. I just found something that's… a little confusing. I’ll be home soon, though. Promise.”
“Okay,” Juliette sighed, “well, you missed dinner. Should I wait up for you?”
“Um, I’m not sure,” he was despondent. “If you’d like.”
“Okay…. I love you.”
He finally tore his eyes away from the book. “I love you, too,” he said with a smile before hanging up.
‘“ have heard tales that she tricks young women into deals that are impossible to break. She promises true love or eternal beauty in exchange for the women’s First Born from their love match or even their voice.
“I plan on facing this witch tomorrow night, where I hope to collect her tongue so no more of her wickedness can be spread. – Bertrand Lambert; 13 November, 1634.”
There were no further entries from that author, however. Disquieting, to say the least.
Verdant green surrounded her as she laid on a bed of ferns that seemed to glow under the light of the crescent moon. The drops of dew soaked into her white dress. It was beautiful here, she wanted to stay; but the sky began to darken. Quickly. Quicker than it should have and a howl echoed through the wood. She was supposed to meet him here, she didn’t know who, but she knew it was supposed to be here; and if she left then she might be lost and he might never find her. Another howl, closer this time. She felt her heart beating in her throat and she knew she had to run. Run or die, those were her choices.
The forest, once vibrant and beautiful, became dark and sickly. The ferns grew brown and wilted and stuck to her bare feet as she ran across them. Branches whipped her face and it had begun to rain. She couldn’t see anything but darkness and the only sounds were her panicked breaths and the howling of some creature that she knew wanted to eat her heart.
“Faster. Faster.” Some voice in her head urged her to run faster, as fast as she could. So she did, until she reached a house in the middle of the wood made of crumbling stone with a thatched roof. “A witch’s house”, that same voice told her, “perfect for a pretty little witch like you.”
“But this one’s taken,” she whispered, afraid her voice might carry. Smoke curled from the top of the chimney; it smelled sweet and changed from grey to purple to a rainbow of colors. “Or is that for me?” The door swung open with a creak. It was dark inside, but she approached anyway. Slowly, cautiously, she peaked inside until a gust of wind blew and pushed her in, the door slamming closed and locking behind her. “No, wait! I don’t want to be here! Don’t keep me here, alone, in the dark!” She screamed as she tugged at the handle and clawed at the wood until her nails cracked and broke and her fingers were bloody.
“You aren’t alone,” the voice said, closer than before. She turned over her shoulder and in the corner stood… herself. Not in a mirror, her physical body. Only it was her woge; a decaying hag, a Hexenbiest, hunched and wheezing. “I’m here,” the voice said again, but this time it came from the hag, “and I’ll never leave you. Even if you kill me.”
With a ghostly shriek, the Hexenbiest lunged for her, wrapping her skeletal hands around her throat before she could scream. The hag's hands tightened their grip, all but squeezing the life from her when the door crashed open off of its hinges; and in the opening he stood, tall and broad, wielding a labrys; his eyes were inky black, coming off in whisps like smoke. He reared the axe back and with a roar, swung it down.
Adalind gasped on a choked scream as she woke. The flash of the blade coming down was still fresh in her mind as she sat up, looking around her bedroom. Empty, of course, except for Majique, who poked her dark head up from where she was curled at the foot of the bed and blinked before settling it back down. The spot next to her had long gone cold, her guest having left sometime before dawn she would guess. Of course. She knew not to expect more.
She turned the covers aside and made the bed as best she could around her sleeping cat, undisturbed as Adalind began her morning routine. Shower and dress (provocative but professional), hair and make-up (striking but not too much so), coffee and out the door; but not before placing water and kibble down for Majique. The cat seemed to meow her thanks as she slinked around Adalind’s ankles, so she reached down to scratch behind her ear before leaving, locking and warding the door.
Work was a slog. Client meetings and proposals, contract law sounds about as glamorous as it actually is, just a bunch of paperwork. On the occasion that she was needed for her other talents though, that was when she really shined; because no one knows how to make a Deal With The Devil quite like a Hexenbiest. Of course, even those have changed significantly from the Old World. Witches didn’t live in cottages anymore, handing out charms and spells in exchange for a lock of hair here or a few drops of blood there or a First Born Child. She certainly did still have use for the hair and the blood, though. No, the charms and spells that were called for were a lot more mundane today; but money, sex, beauty, and power were currencies that never go out of style.
By the time Serena asked Adalind to join her for lunch, she was about ready to tear her own hair out prepping for this deposition and gladly accepted the opportunity for a break. The sunlight beaming down into the plaza cut through the late October chill in the air as they sat down at an outdoor cafe. They chatted about upcoming court dates and depositions they have and whether or not they think Berman is fucking his new receptionist, or just being a Lausenschlange; and about the Prince, or the Bastard Prince, as it were.
“But, don’t the two of you… see each other? Often?” Serena giggled behind her cup, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder.
“Sure we do,” Adalind preened, “but we don’t talk much.” More giggles from the two of them. “Besides, you know that Sean likes to keep his business his own.” Even though he can’t seem to stay out of mine. She tried not to sound bitter, and it seemed like Serena bought it well enough. She’d like to be more involved in Sean’s plans, knowing how much of an asset she could be to him but, just like their romantic relationship, he kept her at arms length until he wanted her any closer. She knew that was usually only when he felt her slipping away.
Serena arched her brow, “Well, I heard that something wicked this way comes. And I don’t mean one of us.” She stretched her arms out and rolled her neck. “Something has definitely shifted in Portland. I mean, you feel it too, right? It’s not just me?”
Adalind shook her head. “No, it’s not just you. I’ve been feeling my skin tingle all week. Some nights, I’m so on edge it takes more than a few rounds with Mr. Energizer to keep it quiet.”
Serena cackled, “Is that Sean or your vibrator?”
Adalind shrugged coyly. “Perhaps both,” she said as she took a sip of her coffee. “Not to mention the dreams.”
“Dreams?” Her friend seemed shocked by the admission. “What about?”
Suddenly, sharing didn’t feel like such a good idea. Like Adalind was being pumped for information… which was not unlikely. Hexenbiests thrived on gossip and information, and it gave a high like no other drug. Instead, she just shrugged, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Her friend scoffed playfully, “Oh please! Like I-” Serena was interrupted by her phone going off on the table next to her. “Oh shit,” she cursed, “my client meeting was pushed up.” The pair of them stood up from the table and walked out into the middle of the plaza quickly. “I have to go get two hours of prep work done in one. I’m sorry, Addy! I so wanted to have a girl’s lunch!”
Adalind tried not to cringe at the nickname, especially that one, which she’s almost certain Serena knew she despised. “Oh that’s okay, Rena,” she cut back as she leaned in for a hug, “go give ‘em hell!”
Serena smirked at her and threw a wink over her shoulder as she walked away. Adalind returned the smile, as pained as it may be and began to turn back towards the office. A wind picked up, wafting the sweet smell of her hazelnut latte into her nose, blowing her hair into her face. As she brushed it aside she felt another tingle run down her spine and down her arms. Except, whereas she had been feeling that familiar buzz of power under her skin as the Airs of Power shifted in the city, now it felt directional.
Glancing across the plaza towards the street, Adalind’s eyes immediately fixed on one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen. Tall, dark, and handsome. He was already looking at her as he smiled; and hey, she wasn’t dead (mostly), nor was she married to Sean. She could look. She offered a flirty smile back, and as he turned to speak to the man next to him, her eyes subtly took in his broad shoulders and strong looking hands and… police badge. Oh.
Adalind let out a hiss of pain as it felt like someone pressed a lit cigarette to her collarbone, and when the handsome stranger looked back at her she felt a surge bubble up as she felt her face shift and contort, her woge pushing to the front even as she tried to grasp it and tug it back down. His eyes darkened, filling up like deep pools of oil with wisps of black smoke curling off and she could feel her Biest scream inside of her like a frightened animal staring at the blade of a hunter's axe. Panic coursed through her veins at the sight of the very first Grimm she’d ever seen. She shook off her woge, pushing it back down. He looked just as shocked as she was, but that didn’t stop her from nearly pissing herself in fear. He took a step towards her and she ran. As fast as her stilettos would carry her, she ran back to her office without a look back and shut the door behind her.
She panted with her back pressed against the door as she tried to catch her breath before collapsing into her office chair when she was sure nobody was on her heels. The burning pain on her collarbone called her back from her panic. She pulled her collar aside and looked into her compact mirror, her eyes going wide as she stared at the crescent moon shaped mark. Red and angry, it looked like a burn, but the unmistakable shimmer of magic rippled across the darkened skin. This mark was supposed to be hidden under her tongue, not branded onto her neck! She held the mirror up closer to her face and lifted her tongue… and it was still there. So why did she all of a sudden have a second one?
Her mind flitted over possibilities. Was she twice the Hexenbiest she was? Twice as powerful now? She took a deep breath and tried to focus, but she felt just as much power as she had an hour ago - no more, no less. So what? She was about to call Sean, but thought the better of it. The Grimm is also a cop, and Sean is the police captain at the precinct not three blocks away. In all likelihood he already knew; in which case, fuck him for not having told her. If he didn’t? Well, there was no use letting this piece of information go without gaining a little bit of leverage, especially with her new tattoo. No, first she needed to find out what this thing was and why it appeared on her so suddenly. She pulled up her mother’s contact to see about borrowing some books when her office phone buzzed.
She jumped in surprise, but took a steadying breath before answering the intercom. “Yes?”
“Miss Schade, Mr. Burton is on the phone calling about the Hollis account.”
Adalind squinted her eyes and tried not to groan out loud. “Put him through,” she ordered and picked up the phone, pasting on another fake smile. “Jack! Hi, how can I help you?”
It was quiet here, and warm, and the ground he laid on was soft. He blinked open his eyes, squinting against the late morning sun. He must have slept in, and that should have bothered him. He was sure he had somewhere to be, he just couldn’t think of where that was. The field of poppies extended out in all directions he could see. He tried to rise, but a weight on his chest kept him anchored to the ground; then a hand slid up his chest. He looked down to find a blonde head of hair and those familiar blue eyes staring up at him. They went round and her lips dropped open into an ‘o’ of surprise before she pulled away from him.
“You,” he breathed, sitting up on his elbows.
“You!” She stood up in a panic and he could tell she was about to run from him again.
He popped up as quickly as he could, his hand shooting out to grab her arm. She nearly shrieked in fear. “Wait! Wait, I don’t want to hurt you! I just want to know who you are!”
“I know who you are!” Her voice wavered as she spoke, yanking her arm from his grip. She began picking up the skirts of her dress like she was going to run again. “Grimm,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes.
“No, that's not-” A howl ripped through the silence, and when he turned toward the sound that sunlight was gone in an instant and he stood in the woods. He turned back to face the girl but she was gone. He could see her running in the distance and he chased after her. “Stop! It’s not safe!” He panted, his footsteps thundering into the hard packed earth as leaves and twigs crunched beneath him. He was gaining on her, he could see the panicked look on her face as she looked back. “Wait!”
“Wait!” He shouted as he sat up in bed. He looked around frantically, expecting to find her or the field or the forest, but there was nothing. Just his bedroom. He was alone, with the sheets fallen around his waist, the comforter kicked off the mattress entirely. He pressed the balls of his hands to his eyes, expecting to feel another migraine, but there was none. He blinked in surprise as he looked around and kicked the sheet aside and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He’d never seen the girl’s face before in his dreams, it was always just her figure; that blonde hair and white dress.
He stared at the window overlooking the street, lost in thought when he heard Juliette’s quick footsteps run upstairs. “Nick? Are you okay?” He looked back at her as she stood in the doorway, her brow creased in concern. “I heard you yell.”
“Yeah, just another dream. I’m okay.”
Juliette didn’t look convinced as she circled around to his side of the bed and stood before him. She cupped his cheeks and tilted his face up to her, checking his temperature as she ran her hands over his forehead. “You feel warm,” she cooed as she brushed her thumb under his eye, “and you look tired. You haven't been getting enough rest between the late nights and these dreams.” She kneeled down between his thighs. “Maybe you should stay home today, or at least go in late. You don’t look well, baby.”
“I can’t,” he huffed, pressing his forehead to hers. “People keep dying so I have to keep going in.”
She gave him a gentle smile. Her eyes drifted to his neck. “What’s that?” She questioned as she brushed her thumb over his collarbone.
He let out a hiss at the contact, recognizing the familiar pain from the day before at the plaza. He got up and looked into the bathroom mirror and saw a dark burn in the shape of a crescent moon, no bigger than his nail, rimmed in red and still warm to the touch like it’d only just happened. “I… don’t know,” he whispered and watched as an unnatural purple shimmer moved across the darkened skin. “Maybe something bit me, or I scratched myself last night?” He knew that wasn’t the case though, the placement and the burning sensation too familiar to forget. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” he said as he covered it with his hand and turned back to Juliette.
“Well, maybe you should get it checked-”
“No,” he said finally, “that's not necessary. I’ll just keep an eye on it.” He reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out the first aid kit.
Juliette seemed mollified by that answer as he began to treat the wound and gave him a sweet kiss before going back downstairs. His fingers continued to trace the outline of the small indentation in his skin as he drove into work and got set up at his desk, getting used to how tender the surrounding skin was.
“I got a match!” Wu announced as he strode up Nick and Hank’s desk, holding a sheet of paper aloft victoriously. “I got a match on the bootprint!” He slapped it down on Nick’s desk, who turned to look at it curiously. “A work boot, that’s used by hikers, construction workers, and a fair amount of other laborers,” Wu continued to explain.
Nick looked up at him expectantly. “Anything else about it?”
The sergeant’s face fell a little, “Not so much. It’s a pretty common boot, not terribly expensive, but it’ll be circumstantial evidence that could get us enough.”
Nick sighed with a nod and thanked Wu before leaning back in his chair. Absent-mindedly, his hand drifted up to touch his collar as he wondered about those blue eyes he saw. The sun in her hair. The gentle curve of her lips as they quirked into a flirty smile… directed at him….
“Nick!”
Hank’s voice yanked him out of his trance and snapped him back to reality. “Yeah, sorry,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes. “The boots, I got it. Let’s keep working that and maybe we can, uhm….”
Her blonde hair caught the moonlight, her dress swayed as she ran between the trees, the panic on her face as she looked back at him….
“Let’s take another look at the scene. Maybe if we walk out there with the dogs they can pick up a scent?”
Hank looked over at Wu and nodded, “Yeah, let's get a team out there and see what we can find. It’s a long shot, but it’s better than nothing.”
“You,” he breathed, sitting up on his elbows.
“You!” She stood up in a panic and turned to run away, but he grabbed her arm. She tried to ignore the sparks that ran over her skin where he touched her.
“Wait! Wait, I don’t want to hurt you! I just want to know who you are!”
“I know who you are!” Her voice wavered as she spoke, yanking her arm from his grip. “Grimm,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes.
The field of poppies suddenly became the dark forest as she ran from him, and like a true hunter, he pursued her. He called out to her, warning her that the woods weren’t safe, but another voice drifted through her mind, “Nowhere is safe with a Grimm. Run. If he catches you, you’ll die.”
“Wait!” He called out to her as her foot caught a root. She stumbled forward, unable to slow herself down she slammed into the cold ground.
Adalind’s eyes opened with a jerk and she was back at home, hunched over her kitchen table with a book open beneath her. She looked down when Majique gave a plaintive meow from at her feet, rubbing her head against Adalind’s calf. She sat up with a groan before reaching down to pick up the Siamese, scratching just behind her ear. “Thank you for waking me, Majique,” she said as she pressed a kiss to her furry head. “What would I do without you?” The cat only purred in response, leaning into her owner’s touch.
“It’s odd that you talk to your cat, you know that right?” Adalind whipped around to see Sean leaning against her front door, smirking in that arrogant way he does. “You’re about this close to being a crazy cat lady,” he quipped at her, pushing off the door and walking up to her slowly. “No kiss?”
Adalind set Majique down and glared up at him as he towered over her. “How did you get in here?” She set her hands on her hips trying to look unimpressed, but he just seemed to find it charming. His smirk widened and put his hands on her waist to pull her closer. “Sean,” she warned, turning her cheek as he leaned down for a kiss.
Sean growled and pushed away from her, “You aren’t as careful as you think you are, Adalind. And you didn’t call me back last night.”
Adalind rolled her eyes, stepping into her kitchen to start brewing a pot of coffee. She pointed at a cabinet and twitched her finger and it opened on its own before a mug floated out and into her hand. “I was busy last night,” she said with a sardonic smirk as she turned to face Sean again.
“I can see that,” he hummed, tracing his finger over the edge of one of the book covers. “Some light reading before bed? Or is there something I should know?”
When he leaned over to read a page, Adalind flicked her wrist and all of the books slammed shut, locking until she bled on the pages again. His sharp eyes snapped up to her, a predatory sneer on his mouth. “For once, Sean, my business is none of yours,” she said as sweetly as she could, despite the glare she wore.
He stormed across the room and slammed his hands onto the countertop on either side of her, boxing her in. “Everything that goes on in this city is my business, Adalind,” he growled. His hand lifted up to grab her chin roughly. “Especially when you’re involved. Now,” he said as he released her and stepped away to pull a mug down for himself, “lets try that again. Is there anything I should know about, Adalind?”
Adalind rubbed her chin and took a breath, trying to push her Woge back down. “I saw a Grimm,” she growled. “Yesterday, when I was at lunch. He saw me, too.”
Sean looked up at her from the coffee he was helping himself to. If he was surprised by her admission he didn’t show it as he asked, “Did you recognize him?” She shook her head. “Well, then what did he look like?”
Adalind sighed and poured herself some coffee, turning away from him and taking the opportunity to subtly make sure her neck was covered by the sweatshirt she had changed into last night. “Tall, though not as tall as you. Dark hair and stubble. Handsome.” Sean looked up at her pointedly with a jealous and warning look, but she only returned with a sarcastic head tilt. “And he wore a badge. Detective shield, I think. He wasn’t far from your precinct.” He would have asked anyway, so she decided to avoid any more of his rough handling and just give up the goods.
He huffed in surprise before taking a sip of coffee and leaned back against the island across from her, “And what did you do?”
Adalind had to laugh out loud at that. “What do you think, Sean? I ran. Back to my office as fast as I could.”
“And why didn’t you call me directly after?” He glared at her from beneath his brows.
Adalind swallowed thickly, knowing the answer was the mark she found. She opened her mouth, trying to will something to come out, anything but the pathetic squeak that did. “I- I was-”
He chuckled darkly and waved her off, “Nevermind, I don’t care for whatever half baked excuse you thought would pull the wool over my eyes. It doesn’t matter… you’re telling me now.” She breathed a small sigh of relief out as he stepped close to her carefully, placing the half empty mug he was using in the sink just behind her. He leaned down and breathed hotly into her ear as he whispered, “Just don't try to keep something like that from me again.” She nodded and he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks for the coffee,” he purred and smacked her ass before breezing out of her front door without another look back.
She waited until she saw him climb into his car and drive away before she moved, breathing out a shaking breath as she collapsed against the counter with a quiet sob into her hand. It was too easy to forget what kind of person Sean was, and she had to keep reminding herself of that. Especially now. She wasn’t sure what this mark was, or why she was dreaming of the Grimm, but she knew nothing good would come of Sean knowing any more than he already did.
“Tighten the fuck up, Schade,” she growled to herself, sniffing and whipping back the tears from her face. Crying was a weakness that Adalind simply could not afford to show right now, not that she ever could. Between her mother and Sean, showing any kind of weakness made life in Portland very dangerous, and the life that she chose was not one that she could easily leave. Majique rubbed against her ankles again and it was perhaps the only thing that could have made Adalind smile in that moment as she leaned down to pick up the cat again and walked into her bedroom to get ready for the day.
Nick, Hank, and a team of search dogs and Forest Services Officers searched the surrounding woods around the Forest Park Wildwood trail for the better part of an hour. The dogs did catch a scent that led them east, but they weren’t able to track it and ended up just going in circles. Just asHank started complaining about his muddy boots he got a call from Dispatch.
“Griffin,” he answered and Nick could have sworn that there was relief in his voice.
“10-55 Alpha, in the Willamette Heights area. A missing child on her way home from school. Units are already at the residence.”
Hank turned to him and spoke into the phone, “On our way. Text us the address.” The Forest Service was less than thrilled about being dragged out into the rainy autumn weather and they didn’t miss the glares they shot as they passed by to follow the trail back to the car.
Sergeant Wu intercepted them as they arrived at the house, “Little girl, 9 years-old, named Robin Howell went missing on her way home from school. She was supposed to go straight to her grandparent’s house and her mom was going to pick her up later, but she never showed up. Grandpa called 911 after half an hour, and mom is here now.”
The panicked parents cried as they explained just what Wu did. “She always walks the same route everyday. She’s supposed to cross Hunter Lane, then follow Hildabrand straight here.”
“Is there any reason she would have deviated from this route?”
“No! Why would she?” Her mother sobbed, “Robin is a good girl!”
“What was she wearing to school today?”
“Jeans and a purple backpack!” Her grandfather stuttered.
“And a red raincoat. She didn’t want to wear it, but the forecast called for rain, so I made her anyway.”
Nick looked up. “Did you say red? A red raincoat?” The mother nodded and Nick thanked her before he turned away to walk down the steps with Hank. “The color red seems to incite these Wesen into a frenzy,” he remembered reading; a sinking feeling brewed in his chest. “Let’s walk her route, see if there’s anything.”
When they reached the first bend on Hildabrand, Hank stopped them. “The park,” he gestured to an opening on the trail. He moved across the street and Nick jogged after him and reached his hand out to grab his elbow.
“But the route-”
“Yeah, cause every kid always does exactly as they’re told,” Hank scoffed. Nick couldn’t argue with that, so he sent a few uniforms to walk the route while he and Hank walked the trails in the park.
It wasn’t long before they found a purple, glittery backpack with ‘R.H.’ written on the strap, and not 20 feet away Nick spotted another boot print. “Hank!” His partner ran up to him, already calling for a CSU team to take a cast of the print and section off the park. “We gotta run, Hank. This print is fresh.” He didn’t wait to hear Hank’s protests before he was off and jogging, following the trail of broken foliage and even a drag mark. The little girl was clearly a fighter. He followed until there was a break in the trees. The sounds of children laughing as they walked home drew him to the edge of the treeline. A man walked out of his house to his mailbox. Nick watched as the man sniffed the air and his eyes followed a kid with a red hat, and then… he shifted. Nick knew he wasn’t imagining things now. He knew what that was.
Blutbad.
“Hank! I got him!” He shouted back over his shoulder, hearing his partner crashing through the brush, before he leaped off the hill and landed on the sidewalk facing that man. The blutbad’s eyes snapped towards him, a burning red, before going wide and shaking off the form. He took two steps back slowly before Nick rushed him, tackling him through his front door. He was able to turn the suspect over and was just cuffing his hands behind his back as Nick, Wu, and several other officers ran up.
“Grimm,” he grunted through his teeth.
Nick smirked as he hauled him up. “Just relax and cooperate and we won’t have any issues,” he instructed. “Where’s the girl?”
The blutbad looked back at him confused, “What girl?”
Nick turned back to look at Hank. “It looks like he wants to play coy. Toss the place,” he ordered and dragged the suspect over to sit in a chair in the office space as officers began to clear the home.
“What’s your name, man?” Hank questioned him, standing firmly next to Nick with his arms crossed.
“Monroe,” he growled back, never taking his eyes off Nick.
The whole time Nick and the blutbad just continued to glare at one another until Wu approached him and leaned in. “The girl’s not here, Nick,” he said gravely, “and we didn’t find any boots matching the print.”
The suspect scoffed from the other room, “Do I look like a boot guy?” He turned in the chair and stuck out loafer covered feet. “Look, I didn’t take any girl!”
Nick glared and started towards him before Hank grabbed his shoulder, “Nick, man. We don’t have anything on him, we can’t hold him. Unless you know something I don't?”
Nick looked over at the blutbad and marched toward him before hauling him up and uncuffing him. “I’ll be watching you,” he growled low.
~~~~~
A twisting in Nick’s gut wouldn’t go away for the rest of the day. No ransom call came to the Howell home and there was no other sign of the girl. Wu did confirm that the bootprint from the park matched the print found by Sylvia Oster’s body. “I think we can go on the assumption that we’re dealing with the same guy,” Wu said as they sat at their desks in the precinct. “We’re widening the search around the Howell home with dogs, but something keeps distracting them on the northwest corner.” Nick perked up. The blutbad lived in that direction, and Nick knew that he was involved somehow.
When he and Hank left for the night, Nick made a sharp turn towards Willamette Heights. It wasn’t far from Forest Park and he’d bet there was another location somewhere in the woods where the girl was being kept. He parked down the street from Monroe’s home, turning his headlights off as he pulled up to the curb, and waited for any movement inside. When he saw the lights from the television that flashed behind the curtain of the front window turn off he made his move, moving slowly down the street before ducking behind a hedgerow and sidling up to the house. He heard the backdoor open and slowly crept to peak around the corner.
Is he… peeing on the fence? Nick stared, shocked and a little disturbed. Is this a Blutbad thing? Like dogs marking their territory? He took another small step and heard a twig snap beneath his foot. Monroe stopped and tucked himself back in, looking around the yard. Nick moved back towards the front, quickly and quietly, when all of a sudden the window above him crashed open and he was tackled to the ground.
He got in a few punches before Monroe hauled him up and tossed him against the wall. “Hey, hey! Take it easy, man!” Somehow still laughing, he said, “I just wanted to make a point. C’mon, let's grab a brew.” He pushed Nick’s shoulder back as he let go of him and gestured for him to follow. “You’re paying for that window, by the way. You’re not as stealthy as you think you are, you know?” He turned and chuckled in disbelief, “A Grimm! Man! My folks used to tell me stories about you! Scared the crap out of me!”
“So you know what I am?” Nick was still in shock as he followed Monroe through his front door, which only hours ago the pair crashed through together.
“Yeah,” he droned. “It’s impossible not to know! I mean your eyes are just like in the stories! Scary….” He reached into his refrigerator and pulled out two beers and handed one to Nick.
“My eyes?” Nick twisted the cap off and took a deep pull from the bottle, trying to wrap his mind around this whole thing.”
“Yeah, you’re eyes. They… change. They go all dark, kind of looks like you’re staring right into the abyss and the abyss is staring back,” he shuddered. “Pardon the Nietzsche reference.” He took a sip of his beer and stared expectantly at Nick. “How long have you been at this? You seem kinda new.”
Nick stuttered as he tried to wrap his head around everything. He may be concussed.
Monroe laughed at his silence, “Oh man… you are new. Did someone in your family just die?”
Nick’s face sank, “My aunt….”
Monroe sighed and sat down heavily on the couch. “I'm sorry, man. But just so you know, I’m not that kind of Blutbad. I don’t hunt anymore, I haven’t in years.”
“A blutbad… I knew it….” Nick breathed as he looked Monroe over.
“Yeah, you know, the big bad wolf,” he air quoted. “Vulgarized by your ancestors, and not at all true, mind you.”
Nick finally fell back onto the couch and pressed the cold beer to his head. “Okay… you’re like, a vegetarian or something?”
“Vegan, actually,” Monroe said proudly.
“How…?”
“A strict regimen of diet, drugs, and pilates,” he said as he slapped his abs. “Reformed, a Wieder Blutbad.”
Nick couldn’t sit still anymore and stood back up suddenly, pacing around the living room. “So this is all really happening,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “No. No! I don’t want it! I don’t want to change!”
Monroe’s eyes tracked him as he wore a ditch into his living room. “You can’t,” he said. “It’s who you are….”
“So what happens to my life? My job? My girlfriend-” Nick stopped, “Juliette….”
“You have to let her go, Nick. It won’t be safe for her,” Marie’s voice echoed in his head.
“Look,” Monroe said, clearly trying to be gentle, “I know this must be pretty overwhelming, but what are you doing here?”
Nick looked up at him darkly, “I’m here about the little girl.”
“Ah, still haven’t found her then?”
“No, but you know where she is,” Nick said, pointing accusingly at Monroe.
“No, I don’t,” Monroe said sternly. “Reformed. Remember? I repair clocks, not abduct little girls!”
“Well, it was definitely a Blutbad, so how many Blutbads are there?”
Monroe rolled his eyes as he swished his empty bottle. “It’s Blutbaden, not Blutbads. In the U.S. or just here in Portland?” Nick just glared at him. Sighing, Monroe got up to toss his empty into the trash before continuing, “There isn’t a social club, man; bad things happen when we get into a pack.”
“I’ll make a note of that in the books,” Nick said sarcastically.
Monroe’s eyes lit up at the mention. “The books? Dude, I’d give anything to see one of those up close! I mean, the history alone-”
“Monroe,” Nick cut him off. “There are other Blutbaden, then? Here, in Portland?”
“I wasn’t pissing on my fence for shits and giggles,” Monroe huffed.
“If there’s more of you out there, you may not know where she is, but you probably have a pretty good idea who does. Will you help me?” Nick looked at Monroe pleadingly. “Help me save a little girl’s life?”
Monroe grumbled, “Me and my bleeding heart….”
They found themselves trundling down a dark, forested road in the dark, with Monroe hanging his head out the window, inhaling the night air deeply. “I really think I should drive,” Nick called out to him. He kept his arm out ready to grab the wheel at a moment's notice.
“No, I'm good,” Monroe called back as he took another big sniff.
Nick glanced nervously between Monroe and the dark road ahead. “If this is the same Blutbad that killed that woman in the woods–”
“Well, assuming he fed yesterday, he'll be good for a week, maybe ten days, tops,” Monroe assured him, or at least tried to. That grisly thought didn’t help as much as he was sure the blutbad wanted it to. “He'll just use the time to fatten her up. Whoa. I got a hit. We're close.” He jerked the car off to the side of the road.
Nick tried to steady himself from being tossed side to side as he asked, “Did you really smell him?”
“Dude, you have no idea,” Monroe huffed and blew out his nose like he smelled something foul. Which Nick could only assume was the case after seeing how Monroe marked his own territory. Monroe stopped the car just before an old wooden bridge. “Okay, this is as far as we drive,” Monroe announced as he got out of the car.
Nick followed quickly, trying to peer through the trees. “He's over there?”
“Oh, he's real close,” Monroe said as he started to rub something on him.
“What's that?” Nick asked as he tried to step back from the unsolicited touch, but Monroe only grabbed the collar of his coat and rubbed more in.
“Aconitum variegatum,” he said matter-of-factly. Nick just blinked at him, and off his look Monroe sighed. “Wolfsbane,” he said, utterly exasperated. “So he won't sense us.”
He reached up to rub some onto Nick’s face, but that was a little too close for comfort so he jerked away. “You're kidding me, right?”
Monroe arched his brow at him as he tossed him a little plastic perfume bottle. “Not if you want to stay alive.” Nick groaned as he poured some onto his hands before rubbing it onto his cheeks and down his neck. He started walking towards the bridge when Monroe stopped him, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket, “What are you doing?”
Nick jerked his sleeve away. “You said he was over there,” he hissed.
“Why don't you just call him, tell him you're coming? This way,” he said sarcastically before walking down the steep embankment off to the side.
Nick groaned as he followed, splashing into the water below, earning a harsh Shhh! “Isn't this what the bridge is for?” Nick whispered back harshly. They continued towards the house, ducking behind trees and through foliage until a ramshackle log cabin came into view in a clearing. Monroe groaned and shuddered, fighting off the urge to morph. “Do I need something like silver bullets?”
Monroe glared at him. “What are you, an idiot?” He shook his head and gestured towards the cabin. “That's his place,” he grunted, his face shifting with a growl.
Nick gasped and pulled back in shock. “What's happening?”
Monroe retracted his beast, breathing heavily, “I can't guarantee what'll happen if I go any closer. It's too dangerous. I might be on your side. I might be on his side. I might even go after the girl. I'm sorry. But there's nothing more I can do.” Monroe gave him a pained look.
Nick nodded. He could see just how much control he was exerting against whatever natural urges were inside of him. “Go,” he told Monroe, who nodded his thanks before rushing off through the brush silently. Pulling out his phone, Nick dialed Hank’s number and anxiously glanced up at the cabin as he listened to it ring.
“What?”
Nick huffed in relief, whispering “I found her.”
There was a long silence before Hank responded, surprised, “What do you mean you found her? Robin Howell?”
“Yeah,” Nick said as he turned and followed his steps back toward the bridge. Hank had more questions but Nick hardly listened before cutting him off. “I can’t explain right now. I’m gonna text you directions, just get here!”
A little while later, Nick watched anxiously as Hank’s car pulled up and pulled off to the side. He got out, and walked up to Nick with a huff, “Where is he?”
“He's in a house on the other side of the stream. But you have to put some of this on first,” Nick said, already rubbing the Wolfsbane onto Hank’s jacket.
Hank jerked away, bewildered. “What the hell are you doing?”
“So he doesn't smell us.”
Hank looked at him like he was crazy. “We're not hunting deer,” he quipped, then looked around expectantly. “Where's backup?”
Nick paused and sighed, “You're the only one I called.”
“What?”
“I already cried wolf once,” Nick huffed. “You think they're gonna believe me? Come on.” Nick jumped back down the embankment and gestured for Hank to follow him.
Hank hesitated and pointed over at the bridge. “You do know there's a bridge, right?” Nick shushed him and waved him on. Hank groaned as he hopped down, his boots squelching in the mud as he followed Nick through the water onto the other side. “Man…. How'd you find this place anyway?”
Nick hesitated, looking for an excuse his partner might buy. “Uh, the boots. I couldn't sleep, so I started looking at addresses, this is one of them.”
“What's his name?”
Nick played dumb, “Who?”
His partner was clearly not in the mood, glaring at him as he said, “The guy we're looking for.”
“Uh, I forgot.”
Hank huffed as they got closer to the house, “You better be right this time, buddy.” Nick shushed him again, kneeling with him behind a tree. “You saw his boot prints, right?
“Yeah. Up there up by the house,” Nick lied. He didn’t want to risk getting caught by snooping around, knowing what this guy was. But Nick knew it was him.
“Exact match?”
“From what I could tell, yeah.”
“You run his plates?”
“I'm still waiting.” Nick knew that Hank was taking on a big risk, but he also knew he wasn’t wrong about this. “What's the matter? Do you not trust me?”
It was kind of a cheap shot. Hank breathed out and nodded, “Okay, let's do this.”
They approached the front door slowly, heads on a swivel. Hank reached up to knock on the door and they waited, listening carefully to the sound of creaking floorboards and fabric rustling. A man opened the door with a congenial smile and a vibe that just screamed Mr. Rogers, but make it sinister.
“Good evening,” he greeted, still wearing that creepy smile. “Can I help you?”
Hank put on his most polite tone, “Sorry to disturb you, sir. I'm Detective Griffin. This is Detective Burkhardt. Do you have a few minutes?”
The suspect’s smile seemed to widen further as he stood aside, “Of course. Would you like to come in?” The better to eat you with, my dear….
“That would be great,” Hank said, briefly looking back at Nick, arching his eyebrow in disbelief.
He led them into a small living area and gestured to a couch covered in pillows across from a large stone fireplace. “We can sit in here.”
“Nice pillows,” Hank complimented, but Nick heard the hint of sarcasm sneak in.
“I did the needlepoint myself. Not that I tell everyone.” A timer went off in the kitchen. “Oh, pot pie is done. Just give me a moment, and then we can talk,” he said before disappearing into the kitchen.
Hank turned fully to Nick, almost laughing as he asked, “Are you kidding me?”
“Hank, I really believe this is the right guy,” Nick pleaded before leading them to follow the suspect into the kitchen. He was humming something as they rounded the corner. “Excuse me, sir?”
“Sorry it's taking so long, but you know how delicate crusts are.”
“What kind of work do you do?” Hank asked as he stepped into the kitchen.
“I work for the government. Like you,” he said as he turned to face them. “I'm a postman. Not the most glamorous job, but I like it.”
Nick was done pussy footing around and bruskly asked, “Where were you between the hours of 2:00 and 4:00 today?”
The Postman’s eyes snapped over towards Nick, and he swore he could see a red glow of anger flicker across them. “On my route. I'd like to know what this is all about.”
Nick held up Robin's picture towards the Postman, “This little girl went missing today.”
“That's awful,” he cooed as he almost prowled over to take the picture. “You don't think I had anything to do with this, do you?”
“We have to run down every possibility,” Hank assured him, trying to ease the tension Nick created.
“What possibility could have led you to me?” The Postman asked as he handed the photo back to Nick.
“We're looking for a pair of boots,” Nick said as he tucked the photo back into his jacket, never taking his eyes off of him.
The Postman smiled predatorily. “Feel free to look anywhere you want,” he offered and Nick was quick to take him up on that, turning on his heel towards the back bedroom. He and Hank searched everywhere: the closet, under the bed, in the armoire; but they came up with nothing. It wasn’t a big house… there weren't a lot of places to hide.
Hank sighed heavily as he turned to Nick and whispered, “If this guy had something to hide, he would have kicked us out. I'm leaving. I want to keep my job.”
“Anything else?” The Postman suddenly appeared in the doorway.
Hank looked over to Nick one last time before saying, “No. Thanks for your time. We'll see ourselves out.” Hank put his arm around Nick’s shoulder and began to lead him out while the Postman hummed along to a tune in his head. Creepy….
Creepy wasn’t a crime though. Could Monroe have been wrong? It was stupid to trust him. He should have just stuck to what he knew! “Hank, I'm sorry. I really thought this time–”
“Wait,” Hank stopped them before they reached the treeline towards the path they came. “The song.”
Nick looked at him, confused. “What song?”
Hank paused and started humming the same melody, “He was humming the same song, the one on the dead girl's iPod.”
They turned and saw the Postman watching them from the window. He smiled at them and turned around, then the lights in the house went off. Nick and Hank looked at each other only briefly before running to kick the front door open with a crash, their guns already drawn. The house was dark and when Hank turned to clear the kitchen a figure jumped him, tackling him to the floor before Nick could react. The red eyes of the Blutbad almost glowed in the dark, snarling wildly as he turned to face Nick. There was no time for Nick to question his own mind as he threw himself at the Postman. But the Postman threw Nick to the ground and ran outside.
Nick and Hank chased after him, storming out the door as Hank shouted, “Hold it! Freeze!” The Postman kept running though, and Hank fired his gun, several rounds landing in his back before the Postman fell to the ground.
Nick ran over to him and rolled him over. His face retracted as he stared up at Nick in shock and fear as Nick shouted at him, “Where is she? Where is she!?”
“Grimm….” he rasped, breathing out one final time as he died in Nick’s arms.
Hank appeared over his shoulder, cursing to himself. “She's got to be in the house,” he reasoned and ran back into the house with Nick hot on his heels, the pair of them calling the girl’s name. “She's not here,” Hank huffed, pulling out his phone to call for backup.
Nick stepped into the living room, looking around when a floorboard beneath him gave a hollow squeak. “Wait… Hank!” He knelt down and flipped the carpet up to find a hidden door. Without a second thought he threw the door open and began descending into the dank cellar. “Robin?” He called out for the girl as he ducked under the low entrance. Nick turned towards the sound of a small whimper. “Hank, she’s here!” He holstered his weapon and cautiously approached her. “Hey, it’s okay. Is your name Robin?” The little girl gave a terrified nod. “Hey, I’m Detective Burkhardt, I’m with the police. You’re okay now….” He took the gag out of her mouth as he reached her, and when he untied her hands she threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. “It’s okay, Robin. Everythings alright now,” he said softly as he gathered her up into his arms and carried her out of the basement just as Hank turned the lights on.
Red and blue lights flashed from outside and Hank went out to direct them. Nick sat with Robin, wrapping her up in his jacket as she silently cried until an officer came in to collect her into the back of an ambulance to be looked over while she waited for her mom. Hank came up to him a little while after, looking at him in disbelief. “I don't know how you did it, but you did it.” Nick could only smile at him.
He didn’t know how he was going to explain this in a report, but he was now at the point of reckoning. He was a Grimm. There was no stopping it, and now that he knew that this world was much bigger than he originally thought, he couldn’t ignore it. Now he just needed to figure out how to navigate it… and what to do about this mark on his shoulder that burned even now.