by Tim Waggoner
The tree canopy grew thicker the farther they walked, until it blocked the night sky. Juliette could see almost nothing as they continued walking through the forest, and she assumed the same was true for Hank. Rosalee—and maybe Renard—had better night vision in Wesen form, and she trusted them to spot any potential danger. Still, it was nerve-wracking walking through darkness, knowing they were approaching a group of woged Wesen on the verge of being overwhelmed by their savage sides.
They walked for a quarter mile or so before the path narrowed to a trail; they continued down it, walking single file now. After a time, Juliette became aware of the smell of campfire smoke, and she saw what she thought were hints of orange-yellow light between the trees.
She was startled when a shadowy figure detached itself from the surrounding darkness and stepped onto the trail ahead of them. As first she feared it was the Wechselbalg, but then she smelled green leaves and turned earth, and she knew the being that confronted them was another Wildermann. There was an additional scent—a lighter, almost fruity one—and Juliette wondered if this was a female Wildermann. A Wilderfrau?
The Wildermann stood silently and waited. Rosalee stepped forward, bowed her head, then whispered a phrase in German. The Wildermann’s reply came in English, his—or her—voice deep and gravelly.
“Who are they?”
The Wildermann didn’t say the word humans, but Juliette knew that’s what was meant.
“They are Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen,” Rosalee said. “They’ve come to help me cure the woge sickness.”
The Wildermann blinked in surprise. “Can you really do that, Rosalee?”
Juliette was only a little surprised that Rosalee and the Wildermann knew each other. Even near-hermits like Wildermann had medical needs.
“I hope so, Lee.”
The Wildermann nodded, then pointed at Rosalee’s bag, and she held it out for inspection. The Wildermann took a quick look, and then did the same for the others. The Wildermann gave Renard a scowling look before inspecting the cooler. Juliette didn’t know if that was because the Wildermann knew Renard was a member of the Royal Family or because he was a Zauberbiest. There were several tense moments as the Wildermann examined the contents of Hank’s backpack, but the guard spent no more time checking it out than the others, and Juliette did her best not to look relieved.
The Wildermann stepped aside, took hold of a low-hanging branch of what appeared to be an ordinary tree, and pulled. The tree—along with the underbrush that surrounded it—slid easily across the ground, revealing a narrow opening. Firelight spilled through, illuminating the Wildermann’s features. He—or she—was tall, broad-shouldered, well-muscled, and just as shaggy as the one they’d encountered when they’d parked. But the Wildermann moved with a certain grace that strengthened Juliette’s suspicions that it was female. In the firelight, Juliette could see that the tree the Wildermann had pulled to the side wasn’t full length. It had been cut off at ten feet and mounted on a flat wood-and-metal framework. Juliette assumed the tree had been hollowed out as well to make it easier to move. But then again, it might not be hollow. Wildermanner were very strong, after all.
The four of them stepped through the opening and into a clearing. Juliette glanced back over her shoulder to watch the Wildermann replace the camouflage. Once it was in place, she couldn’t tell it apart from the trees on either side of it.
The clearing appeared to be almost perfectly circular, and the trees that ringed its circumference were in their prime—thick, tall, and stately. The spaces between them were filled with dense underbrush, including wicked-looking thorn bushes. In the center of the clearing was a large stone slab, carved so that its top and sides were flat and smooth. It looked like some kind of platform or dais to Juliette, and according to Rosalee, it was a place for a speaker to stand and address the Hafen. Small campfires dotted the clearing, and groups of woged Wesen stood around them, watching the flames silently or talking in hushed voices. Juliette was surprised that the Wesen would take the risk of alerting potential enemies to their presence by lighting fires. But then she realized that these Wesen had come here not to hide from a threat, but rather as a kind of quarantine, to have a place to conceal from the outer world the effects of the Ewig Woge. A serious situation to be sure, but—as far as they knew—not an immediately dangerous one. So why not have a few fires for warmth, light, and whatever psychological comfort they might bring?
A number of tents had been erected, and sleeping bags were spread out on the ground. No one was lying down, though, and Juliette would bet that most of the tents were empty, too. Everyone would be much too anxious to remain confined in small spaces. She had never seen so many woged Wesen before, and though she tried not to stare, she couldn’t help herself. She recognized some types. Blutbaden, of course, along with Fuchsbau and Eisbiber. Others she’d only heard about, such as Bauerschwein, Mauzhertzen, Seelenguter, Skalengecken, and Jagerbaren. But there were many others that she didn’t recognize, some of which bore only a passing human resemblance. Seeing them all together like this was like something out of a nightmare, and although Juliette reminded herself that these were intelligent beings much like she or Hank, she couldn’t help feeling afraid.
There were just as many children as adults, if not more. Most of the young Wesen stood in small cliques or sat cross-legged on the ground, playing games on their phones or tablets. Seeing them alleviated some of her fear. No matter the species, kids were kids. Some of the younger children were still in human form. Wesen developed the ability to woge in youth, but it hit some earlier than others. Obviously, those children who hadn’t started to change yet had been unaffected by the Ewig Woge.
The atmosphere in the makeshift camp was already thick with tension, and Juliette and the others only made it worse with their entrance. Heads turned as they walked into the Hafen, brows furrowed, eyes glared, lips curled back from teeth, and the air filled with growls, hisses, and snarls.
It’s because of Hank and me, she thought, and she wondered if it would’ve been better if the two of them had remained behind.
A Bauerschwein stepped forward and blocked their way. He was short and stout, but while he had a bit of a pot belly, he looked like he was made of more muscle than fat. His brow was thick and pronounced, he was bald, and he possessed a porcine snout and ears. His lower teeth jutted out almost like tusks. He wore a dark blue uniform with stitching on the right breast that identified him as an employee of First-Rate Security. Juliette glanced to see if he carried a gun, but all he had was a flashlight holstered to his belt. That was a relief.
The Bauerschwein gave Juliette and Hank a dark look before addressing Rosalee.
“What are these two doing here?”
“These two have names,” Hank said.
The Bauerschwein snorted, but didn’t look away from Rosalee. Before she could answer his question, though, he sniffed the air, and his scowl—which Juliette believed was likely a permanent part of his expression—deepened.
“You smell of Blutbad.” His tone made it sound like an accusation.
Pigs had a tremendous sense of smell, Juliette knew, and it seemed Bauerschwein were no different. Bauerschwein also had a longstanding antipathy to Blutbaden. Not a good combination.
Rosalee’s lips drew back from her teeth.
“You smell like a lot of things, but I’m too polite to mention it.”
It wasn’t like Rosalee to snap like that—not that Juliette blamed her.
A second Wesen stepped forward to join the Bauerschwein. The woman wore a faded jean jacket over a white T-shirt, tight jeans, and worn boots. Juliette didn’t recognize the type of Wesen she was. Some sort of feline variety, and from the tawny fur on her face and hands, Juliette guessed she was related to the cougar. She had a long mass of curly brown hair that spilled over her shoulders. But instead of making her seem more human, the hair only accentuated her animal appearance.
“No humans allowed in the Hafen,” she growled. “Everyo
ne knows that.”
“Not even Kehrseite-Schlich-Kennen?” Juliette asked. She took a quick glance around the clearing. “Looks like there are a few of us here.”
“Close friends and family,” the Bauerschwein said. “That’s different.”
Juliette wasn’t sure, but she thought the man’s lower teeth grew longer and thicker as he spoke.
“Right,” the cougar-woman said. “Who vouches for you two?”
Juliette wanted to point out that the Wildermann guards had let them enter and that should be good enough. But given how hostile these two Wesen were being, thanks no doubt to the Ewig Woge, she doubted they would care.
“I do,” Renard said.
The two Wesen turned to look at him, as did others in the immediate area. Juliette felt the tension in the air increase dramatically, and she feared that if they didn’t play the next few seconds just right, violence would break out. If that happened, it could set off the entire Hafen, and the results would be catastrophic.
Renard put the cooler down and stepped forward to stand in front of the Wesen. Juliette could see his struggle to maintain control of his anger in the set of his jaw and the narrowing of his eyes. Normally, the two Wesen might’ve taken a step back from an angry Zauberbiest, but they were in the grip of the Ewig Woge, and that made them step closer to Renard, hands bunched into fists.
“This is ridiculous,” Juliette muttered to herself.
She put her bag on the ground, removed a jar and unscrewed the lid. She dipped a finger into the light-purple paste inside and then stepped in between Renard and the two Wesen. The Bauerschwein and cougar-woman glared at her, but in a tone of voice she used to calm both frightened animals and their anxious owners, she said, “Hold still now.” She then applied a dab of paste around the Bauerschwein’s snout and beneath the cougar-woman’s nose. The Wesen were so stunned by her actions that they stood still and let her work. When she finished, she stepped back and the man and woman both inhaled deeply through their noses. The effect was immediate and dramatic. The tension drained from their bodies, and they visibly relaxed.
“What is this stuff?” the cougar-woman asked, inhaling again.
“Lavender and vanilla,” the Bauerschwein said. “Among other things.” He too inhaled again.
“Well. Whatever it is, it’s great,” the woman said. A moment later, she began purring.
Juliette turned to Rosalee and grinned. Rosalee smiled back.
The first step was to begin distributing the endorphin-enhancer to every Wesen in the Hafen to help keep them calm and relaxed. After that, Rosalee could begin mixing the cure for the Ewig Woge. But in order for it to work, she needed a very important final ingredient—and that’s where Nick and Monroe came in.
Her smile fell away. Somewhere out there was the Wechselbalg—and in all likelihood, it too was heading for the Hafen. The question was, who would get here first? And what would happen then?
* * *
Nick didn’t waste time thinking. He stepped to the side just as the Lowen lunged for him. He spun around, grabbed the back of the Lowen’s head, and shoved him toward the nearest tree. The Lowen hit face-first, let out a muffled oof! and went limp. Nick caught him before he could fall and lowered him gently to the ground. He checked the man’s pulse and was relieved to find it strong. He’d put a lot of muscle into that shove, but he hadn’t wanted to hurt the man, just keep him from raising the alarm.
Nick straightened and Monroe leaned close to his ear to speak.
“Man, you’re a bad-ass when you’re being sneaky,” he whispered.
Nick smiled and the two men continued toward the Hafen, Monroe once again leading the way. They didn’t encounter any more roaming guards, but neither did they run across the Wechselbalg. Too bad, he thought. Things would’ve been simple—and probably a lot less messy—if they could’ve confronted him outside the Hafen.
Eventually Nick could smell campfire smoke and see glimmers of light ahead. As he and Monroe drew closer, the underbrush began to get thicker, and thorns snagged his jeans and hoodie, scratched his face and hands. Monroe had warned him that it would be like this close to the Hafen, and they slowed their pace, doing their best to keep the thorn damage to a minimum as they proceeded. Both men took in soft, hissing breaths as they were scratched, but eventually they made it to the edge of the clearing.
Monroe leaned close and whispered in his ear once more.
“Try not to get too close to anyone. They might smell the blood from your scratches and get suspicious.”
Nick nodded. He pulled up his hood to conceal his features. The two men then entered the Hafen.
The clearing was filled with people standing around small campfires or near tents. Nick estimated there were a couple of hundred people present, and from what he could see, almost all of them were woged. The air practically vibrated with tension; he felt as if he’d just stepped into a room full of high explosives, and all it would take was a single match to set them off.
He and Monroe had agreed it was best not to enter the Hafen with the others so that Nick could hide his presence from the Wechselbalg until he was ready to confront the shapeshifter. But it was equally important to avoid causing an outbreak of violence. The last thing the Wesen needed to see was a Grimm in their midst—especially since some of them believed he’d gone insane and started killing Wesen at random. Even if they hadn’t been suffering from the Ewig Woge, his presence could’ve provoked them to attack. So the longer he remained concealed, the better.
No one seemed to have noticed them enter the Hafen. No one turned to look in their direction, and better yet, no one shouted to raise the alarm. Nick and Monroe started walking toward the center of the clearing, Nick sticking close to his friend’s side. Monroe had told him that a lot of the Wesen would keep to themselves, some because they tended not to play well with others, and some because they were trying to maintain control of their aggressive urges. So as long as Nick kept his hood up, looked down at the ground, and kept his hands in his pockets, no one would give him a second look—they hoped. Monroe’s Blutbad scent would help mask Nick’s human scent, but Monroe had cautioned that it still would be best to avoid getting too close to anyone they didn’t know, just in case. So they steered clear of Wesen as they walked, and no heads swiveled in their direction, no one sniffed the air, no one pointed and shouted, “Human!” or worse, “Grimm!”
Nick was on edge, but not because he feared discovery. He’d never been in the presence of so many Wesen before, certainly not so many that were woged, and his instincts urged him to attack the creatures that surrounded him. They were monstrous, unnatural beasts, and they had to be stopped before they could cause harm.
Nick gritted his teeth and fought the compulsion to grab the nearest Wesen and beat them to a pulp. The experience brought a newfound respect for Monroe. Walking among all these Wesen, Nick had a much better idea of the battle Monroe fought every day—it was a battle he wasn’t sure he’d win if their position had been reversed.
On the other side of the clearing, Nick saw Juliette, Hank, Rosalee, and Renard talking with a pair of Wesen. He was glad to see the others had reached the Hafen safely, but it looked like they weren’t receiving the warmest of greetings. Nick felt an urge to go over and help, but he knew he’d only make matters worse if he interfered. Besides, they could take care of themselves. But he planned to keep an eye on them nevertheless.
“Any sign of him?” Nick asked softly as he and Monroe walked.
“No, but if he was here, wouldn’t we be able to tell by all the screaming and bleeding?”
Monroe had a point. The Wechselbalg might have been something of a chameleon in his prime, but right now he wasn’t one for subtlety. If he was here, he’d be fighting—and killing.
Unless he’s walking around in disguise and looking for you, so he can steal the rest of your memories and finally eliminate the competition.
Nick struggled to predict the Wechselbalg’s next move. He could be
in the Hafen right now, hunting Nick while Nick was hunting him. Or he could’ve decided Portland wasn’t big enough for two Nick Burkhardts, and he could be on the road headed anywhere. Maybe to New York, where Nick had grown up…
He quickly shut down that line of thought. Not only was it counterproductive right now, his instincts told him the Wechselbalg would be here. He just had to keep looking, keep waiting. It was only a matter of time.
Nick and Monroe continued making a slow circuit of the Hafen. Juliette and the others managed to get past their welcoming committee, and now headed toward the stone slab in the center of the clearing. Monroe had told him it was called the Speaking Stone, and anyone who stood on it had the right to address those who’d sought shelter in the Hafen. Whoever held control of the Speaking Stone was allowed to talk as long as they wanted—until a minimum of three Wesen called for them to step down. If they refused, they were “encouraged” to shut up, violently if necessary. When she was ready, Roslaee would step onto the stone and address the assembled Wesen. And then… well, they’d see what happened.