Grimm: The Killing Time

by Tim Waggoner

  Her seemingly endless energy drained out of her then, and her heart began pounding rapidly. She couldn’t breathe, and her arms and legs felt as they were filled with wet cement. She stumbled as she reached Nick, and fell to her knees before him.

  “Thank God,” she said. Or rather, tried to say. Instead of words, what came out of her mouth was an unintelligible combination of sounds, shrill and high-pitched, wet and gurgly, low and gravelly. She looked at her hands and was horrified to see that they were no longer fully human. Instead of skin, her hands were covered with a patchwork of fur, scales, and feathers, and her slender fingers—which now seemed to possess too many joints—ended in sharp claws, talons, or spines, depending on the finger.

  She looked up at Nick, confused and frightened, but instead of seeing loving concern in his eyes, she saw cold cruelty and disgust.

  “Wesen,” he said harshly, almost spitting the word. Then he gripped the battle-axe with both hands and raised it high over his head. Juliette heard snuffling laughter from the creatures that had pursued her for so long, and then Nick swung the axe downward in a vicious strike so swift she didn’t have time to scream.

  * * *

  Someone was pounding on the door, hitting it so hard it sounded as if they were trying to batter it down. The sound was so startling that she was up and halfway to the door before she was aware of being conscious. She stopped, momentarily disoriented, and then the details of her nightmare came back to her to a jumble of images, sounds, and emotions. She checked her hands, half-expecting to see them as a conglomeration of various animal species, but she was relieved to find them normal.

  The pounding continued, becoming louder and more insistent, the force of the blows making the windows in the front room vibrate. Who in the hell could it be, she wondered, especially this late? Then the last of the sleep fog dissipated, and she remembered the Ewig Woge. Maybe Monroe or Rosalee was at the door, maybe they’d tried calling her, and she’d been sleeping too deeply to hear her phone ring. Maybe something bad had happened to one of them, or to Hank. Or Nick.

  She hurried the rest of the way to the door, unlocked it, and threw it open wide.

  Nick stood on the porch, fist raised, hand red from pounding so hard.

  “Juliette,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Is everything okay? Did you lose your keys?” She looked past him and saw he was alone. “Where’s Hank?”

  He didn’t answer her at first. He continued to look at her, an unreadable expression on his face. She’d seen him go blank like this before, and it worried her. Was it due to the lingering effects of the Cracher-Mortel toxin? Or was it an aftereffect of the woge hormone the Wechselbalg had injected him with? Worse, could it be an interaction between the two?

  She took his hand and pulled him inside. He gave no resistance, and once he was in, she closed and locked the door once more. Since becoming aware of Nick’s legacy as a Grimm, she’d become more security conscious than ever. If something had come running out of the night to attack them, she wouldn’t have been surprised. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time.

  And to think I used to worry about Nick dealing with ordinary human criminals.

  She turned to him. “Come on, let’s get you onto the couch.”

  She took his hand once more and led him to the couch where she’d been dozing. He looked around as they walked into the living room, his gaze sweeping over the place, taking in everything. She’d grown used to him surveying his immediate environment wherever they went. His police training and experience made him far more aware of his surroundings than ordinary people, and his observational abilities had grown even stronger since he’d come into his heritage as a Grimm. Usually he was more circumspect in observing whenever he entered a room, and she couldn’t recall seeing him observe so intently in his own home.

  He sat on the couch and glanced down at the upholstery. He ran his hand over it slowly.

  “Are you okay?” she asked again.

  “Hmmm? Oh, yeah. I’m fine. A little tired. It’s been a long night.”

  “Yes, it has. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Sure.”

  When he didn’t say anything more, she asked, “Anything in particular you want?”

  He considered the question for several moments, an expression of deep thought on his face, as if he were debating a serious matter.

  “Whatever I usually have is fine,” he said.

  She frowned, but said, “Okay.” She then started for the kitchen.

  She was standing at the fridge, door open, trying to decide whether she should get Nick a beer or a bottled water, when it hit her. The person sitting on the couch wasn’t Nick. At least not her Nick.

  She reached into her pants pocket for her phone, but then realized she’d left it on the end table next to the couch when she’d been sleeping.

  “Damn it!” she whispered. She didn’t have her keys, either. If she decided to sneak out the back, she’d be forced to go on foot. It wasn’t so cold out that she’d need a jacket or shoes, as long as she was outside only for a short time. But she needed to let Nick know the Wechselbalg was here as soon as possible. If she left the house, the Wechselbalg might too. She needed to keep him here until Nick could arrive. More importantly, she needed to keep the creature here so it wasn’t running loose and threatening people’s lives.

  Her mind made up, she reached into the fridge, grabbed two bottles of water, closed the door, and headed back into the living room. Her heart was pounding, and when she held out a bottle for “Nick,” she couldn’t keep her hand from trembling. The Wechselbalg didn’t seem to notice, and he took the bottle from her, twisted off the cap, and took a long drink, polishing off the entire bottle. He then handed the empty to her and took the second bottle. He drained that one even faster.

  It made sense. If the Wechselbalg’s true form was a semisolid mass of highly evolved woge hormone, it would need a lot of liquid to survive, far more than a human needed. She took the second empty from him, walked over to the end table, put the bottles down, and picked up her phone.

  “You really worked up a thirst tonight. I’ll go get you some more water.” She slipped the phone into her pocket and started toward the kitchen.

  “No need,” the Wechselbalg said. “I’m satisfied.”

  She paused and turned back to face him.

  “But I’m still thirsty. Be right back, okay?”

  The Wechselbalg looked at her for a moment. No longer was there any confusion in his eyes. His gaze was sharp and focused. She wondered if he’d copied Nick’s observation skills. Probably. But even if he hadn’t, a creature like the Wechselbalg was like a chameleon, only his protection came not from coloration but rather from being a consummate actor. Observation would be a key component in determining if his audience found his act convincing. If they didn’t, he’d adjust his behavior quickly and efficiently. And if he still couldn’t convince them, he might flee—or kill them.

  She was no actress, but she knew enough to know that if she tried too hard to look innocent, it would only make her seem even more suspicious. So she tried not to do anything, just stand there and look back at the Wechselbalg with as little expression on her face as possible.

  The Wechselbalg frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing. The expression was one she’d seen on Nick many times. She was certain Nick had no idea that he looked that way when he was concentrating on something he was observing. She found the Wechselbalg’s imitation of the expression to be perfect, eerily so. If she hadn’t known she was looking at a Wesen shapeshifter, she would’ve sworn it was her Nick.

  Just when she feared the Wechselbalg had figured out she was on to him, he said, “Sure.”

  She managed a smile before turning and heading for the kitchen once again. She felt the Wechselbalg watching her go, and she suddenly felt awkward, as if she was unbalanced and ungainly. But she made it out of the living room without the Wechselbalg doing or saying anything
, and once she was in the kitchen, she took out her phone and began texting Nick. She knew she didn’t have long until the Wechselbalg became suspicious and came looking for her, so she kept her message short.

  Shapeshifter is here. I’m okay. Come fast.

  She hit SEND, then tucked the phone back into her pocket. She got a bottle of water from the fridge and then returned to the living room. The Wechselbalg was no longer sitting on the couch. He was walking around the room, looking at pictures and knick-knacks, a slightly lost expression on his face, as if he was trying to remember them but couldn’t. It seemed that while the Wechselbalg had managed to copy some of Nick’s memories, he hadn’t copied them all.

  She wanted to keep a safe distance from him without making it obvious, so she went to the couch, sat, removed the cap from the bottle and took a sip.

  “How was work tonight?” she asked.

  He turned around and looked at her.

  “Why ask me that? You know what I really am. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Cold fear gripped her as the Wechselbalg started walking toward her.

  * * *

  Nick and Hank had been patrolling the streets of Portland for the better part of an hour. Monroe and Rosalee had remained at the spice shop to contact the Wesen on their call lists and continue researching. Renard had left the shop at the same time as Nick and Hank. He was also patrolling the city, while presumably calling his various Wesen contacts to elicit their help. Knowing Renard’s somewhat Machiavellian personality, Nick had no doubt the man had any number of contacts in the city—hell, probably across the globe—that he could call on when needed. But whoever they were, Nick feared they wouldn’t be enough to cover the whole city.

  One encouraging development was the traffic. It wasn’t as if the streets of Portland were suddenly clogged with vehicles, but there was a marked difference in the number of cars out compared to a normal night. Then again, Nick thought, there weren’t really any normal nights in this city, not since he’d started working as a Grimm.

  “Looks like the Wesen are getting out of Dodge,” Hank said. “I think we just passed a family of… What do you call the ones that look like rhinos?”

  “Dickfellig,” Nick said.

  Hank chuckled. “I know. I just like to make you say the word.”

  Nick scowled at him. He was about to comment on his partner’s juvenile sense of humor, when a flash of movement on the sidewalk caught his eye. Someone was running down the street, a Seelengut from the look of her. The sheep-like Wesen wore a red hoodie and black yoga pants, but her feet—which were more or less human—were bare. Some Wesen were graceful and powerful when woged. Others not so much. Seelenguter tended to fall into the latter category. The woman was trying to run, but her motion was more like a fast shuffle, her arms hanging limply at her sides, as if she feared she might unbalance herself by using them.

  Following behind her at little more than a fast walk was a cat-like Wesen that Nick figured for a Klaustreich. While Klaustreich were technically predator types, they tended to be scavengers rather than hunters. More alley cat than jungle cat. But he supposed that thanks to the Ewig Woge, the Klaustreich’s feral instincts had been strengthened and brought to the surface.

  “Hank!”

  “I see them. Really see them. Hold on.”

  Hank yanked the steering wheel hard to the right, and the Charger’s tires squealed as the car skidded to the curb. Nick didn’t bother complimenting his partner on his parking job. He shoved the door open, got out of the car, and made it onto the sidewalk in time to intercept the Seelengut woman. She let out a bleat of surprise as she bumped into Nick, and he took hold of her shoulders to steady her.

  “It’s all right,” he said quickly. “I’m a police officer. I’m here to help.”

  But his words didn’t seem to reassure her. If anything, they upset her more. She tried to pull free from his grip, turning her head from side to side as she did, as if she were trying to avoid meeting his gaze.

  “Don’t look at me!” she shouted. “Let me go!”

  She’s not just afraid of the Klaustreich, Nick thought. She’s also afraid because she knows she can’t hide her appearance.

  “I know you’re Seelengut, and it’s okay,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “But I might.”

  The Klaustreich had slowed his pace to what Nick thought of as an insolent stroll. His fur was black with patches of white above the eyes and around the mouth. The Klaustreichen that Nick had encountered had possessed eyes that looked like a fifty-fifty blend of feline and human. But this one’s eyes were all cat. Another sign of the Ewig Woge’s effects?

  The Klaustreich wore a scuffed black leather jacket, a white turtleneck, jeans, and sneakers. He kept his hands in his jacket pockets as he approached, and Nick heard a soft, throaty rumbling. The man was purring, he realized.

  The woman looked over her shoulder at the Klaustreich, and the sight of him so close—he was less than ten feet away—caused her to forget her fear of Nick. She pressed herself against him and said, “Don’t let him hurt me!”

  “Keep your distance,” Hank said in an I’m-a-cop-and-don’t-mess-with-me voice.

  The Klaustreich gave him an amused look, clearly unimpressed, but he did as Hank asked and stopped walking.

  If this had been an ordinary situation, Nick would’ve gently placed the woman at arm’s length, and then he and Hank would’ve begun questioning her and her pursuer to find out what was going on. But this was nowhere near a normal situation, so Nick allowed the woman to continue clinging to him.

  “What’s your name?” Nick asked. It took her a moment to reply.

  “Allison,” she said.

  Nick nodded, then turned his focus to the Klaustreich. “What about you?”

  “You can call me Sylvester.”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass,” Nick said.

  Klaustreichen had a reputation for being the jerks of the Wesen community, and it seemed this man was determined to do his best to live up to that reputation.

  The Klaustreich let out a long theatrical sigh. “Fine. My real name is Donald.”

  “That’s not much better,” Hank said.

  Donald shot him a dark look, but didn’t comment.

  Allison kept sneaking glances at Donald, and Nick felt her tremble in his arms.

  “What happened, Allison?” he asked gently.

  She kept glancing at Donald as she spoke. The Klaustreich looked equal parts amused and bored.

  “I—I was at work when I felt a woge coming over me. Not a regular one, either. This was different somehow. Stronger. I was on drive-thru, so I yanked off my headset, grabbed my hoodie, told the manager that I wasn’t feeling good, and got out of there just as the change hit me. I scared a customer who was walking into the restaurant, and that’s when I knew everyone could see me. See me like this, I mean. I pulled up my hood and kept my hands in my pockets and started walking home. Normally I take the bus, but I couldn’t get on when everyone would see me as a Seelengut.”

  Allison hadn’t said where she worked, but it was obviously a fast-food joint of some kind. She could’ve caught the Ewig Woge from a Wesen customer, and then in turn passed it on to other Wesen who came to her drive-thru. At this rate, most of Portland’s Wesen community would be infected by sunrise, Nick thought. If not sooner.

  Hank turned to Donald. “Where do you come in?”

  Before he could answer, a passing motorist honked his horn and shouted, “Kick-ass costumes!” out the window as he drove by.

  “Damn it,” Nick muttered. Similar scenes were probably playing out across town. Humans spotting fully woged Wesen and taking them as people wearing costumes or—if they got a close-up look—thinking they were seeing monsters. How long would it be before the city had a full-scale panic on its hands?

  “I asked you a question,” Hank said to the Klaustreich.

  “I was out clubbing when the woge came over me. I rushed out before too many
people saw me. Luckily, most of them weren’t in a condition to trust their senses, if you know what I mean. So after I left the club, I tried keeping to the shadows while I attempted to get my woge under control—with no luck. And then I saw her.”

  Nick wasn’t used to seeing Wesen fully woged when first encountering them. Usually he saw their human aspects first and then witnessed them change. Seeing Allison and Donald like this made it hard to judge their ages based solely on appearance. But now that he’d heard both of them speak, he figured them to be in their late teens or early twenties.

  Donald continued. “She was walking on the sidewalk. At first I couldn’t tell she was Wesen. Like she said, she had her hood up. But I was intrigued by the way she walked. Or tried to walk. She kept wobbling and stumbling, as if her legs weren’t working right. I thought she might be drunk or high, but then she stopped to take off her shoes, and that’s when I realized why she was having trouble walking. She was Seelengut. It was obvious she was struggling to control her woge, and since I was similarly affected, I thought I could help her. And—selfishly—I hoped she might be able to shed some light on what had happened to both of us. But when I approached her, she did a major freak-out. She looked at me as if I was a starving Blutbad, screamed, and ran. Seelengut aren’t always the most graceful creatures—especially when they’re afraid.” He glanced at Allison and smiled. “No offense.”

  In response, Allison pressed against Nick more tightly.

  “Why did you follow her after she ran?” Nick asked. Something wasn’t adding up here. If the Klaustreich had the Ewig Woge, he should’ve been displaying signs of increased aggression. But he’d been doing his best to paint himself as a Good Samaritan, and working just a bit too hard at it.