by Tim Waggoner
Sean Renard stepped into the shop and immediately turned and locked the door behind him. That was Renard, she thought. Intelligent and secretive.
Renard was a Zauberbiest—the male equivalent of a Hexenbiest—and his ravaged face spoke of his heritage. He might be half-Wesen technically, but he looked all Wesen now. Juliette’s stomach flipped when she saw Renard’s Zauberbiest features. It was like seeing the Phantom of the Opera without his mask. It didn’t help that when Renard had used an elixir to wake her from a coma induced by Adalind Schade, they’d become physically and emotionally bonded somehow. It had taken some time for that condition to run its course, but no matter how strong the attraction had become, Renard had fought to keep from taking advantage of her. She deeply appreciated that and respected him for it. But she still wasn’t comfortable around him, and she doubted she’d ever be, at least not entirely.
Before he said anything, he stopped and sniffed the air. Then he looked over at the shattered glass and powdery-liquid mess on the floor, next to the book Monroe had thrown. His upper lip curled in distaste, and while Juliette could smell nothing from where she stood, she knew Renard—although farther away from the mess—could smell it far more intensely. And from his reaction, he didn’t appreciate the odor. From what she understood, Hexenbiester and Zauberbiester were incredibly sensitive to chemical substances. This ability allowed them to create potions and elixirs that could dramatically alter a person’s biochemistry. They were also sensitive to various forms of energy, which allowed them to influence magnetic and electrical fields to achieve feats that seemed almost supernatural. Of course, these abilities were honed with training and practice, and while Juliette had no idea if Renard had ever received such training, she wasn’t about to ask him any time soon. But given his sensitivity—especially now that he was affected by the Ewig Woge—being in the spice shop surrounded by hundreds of different substances and their smells must have been almost intolerable for him.
Renard shook his head as if to clear it, and looked at Monroe and Rosalee.
“I’m relieved to see I’m not the only one having trouble changing back,” he said.
Before Juliette or Rosalee could speak, Monroe began growling deep in his throat, gaze locked on Renard, teeth bared. Renard locked eyes with him, and while he didn’t make a sound, he lowered his arms to his sides, hands open, and he widened his stance. Juliette realized he was preparing to fight.
“Monroe, what are you—” Rosalee reached out to touch him as she spoke, but Monroe batted her hand aside. With a single graceful move, he leaped onto the countertop and crouched there, leaning forward slightly, growling louder.
Rosalee looked to Juliette with an expression of alarm. As far as Juliette knew, Monroe and Renard had nothing against each other. They were hardly friends—little more than acquaintances, really—but they were far from enemies.
It’s the Ewig Woge, she realized. It had strengthened Monroe’s territorial instincts, and he now saw Renard as an intruder who must be challenged. As for Renard… Juliette knew very little about Zauberbiester, other than that they were reputed to be scheming and calculating, as well as stronger and faster than humans. But even if Renard didn’t possess deep-rooted animal instincts prompting his actions while in Wesen form, it seemed obvious that he had no intention of backing down from Monroe’s challenge.
Monroe’s muscles began to coil, and Juliette knew he was seconds away from springing toward Renard. Not knowing what else to do, she ran forward and put herself between them. An instant later, Rosalee rushed out from behind the counter and joined her. The women stood back-to-back, arms outstretched and hands held palms up.
“You don’t want to do this,” Juliette said, trying to keep her tone as neutral as possible to avoid setting off either man. “You’re both being affected by exposure to the Wechselbalg’s hormone. Not only is it keeping you woged, it’s making you hyper-aggressive.”
“You both need to calm down before someone gets hurt,” Rosalee added. “And before my shop gets wrecked even more than it already is.”
Rosalee practically growled her words, and Juliette knew that she was fighting her own aggressive feelings. It appeared her “soothing tea” couldn’t stand up to a concentrated assault of enhanced woge hormone combined with adrenaline.
Neither Monroe nor Renard appeared to have heard the two women. They continued glaring at each other. Monroe continued growling, even louder now, and Renard made a continuous sound, eerie and disturbing, a cross between a wordless deep tone and a serpent’s hiss.
“It’s like we’re not even here,” Juliette said.
“Then maybe we need to work a little harder to get their attention,” Rosalee said. She smiled at Juliette, revealing teeth that were less prominent than Monroe’s, but just as sharp.
Juliette found her friend’s smile disquieting, but she returned it, and then the two women started walking. Rosalee toward Monroe and Juliette toward Renard. Renard didn’t look at Juliette as she approached, nor did he react in any way when she stopped within a few inches of him. She raised her hand and then slapped his face as hard as she could. She heard her slap echoed, and she knew that Rosalee had done the same thing to Monroe. Her hand hurt like hell, but she ignored the sting and kept her gaze focused on Renard’s eyes. If her slap had caused him any pain, he didn’t show it. But he did look at her, his upper lip curled in a snarl, and he raised his hand as if to return the strike.
Juliette showed no fear as she said, “Do it and I guarantee you’ll regret it. In all kinds of ways.”
Renard continued glaring at her, his hand trembling, and for an instant she thought he would strike her. But then he sighed and lowered his hand. When she was confident the moment of danger had passed, she glanced toward Rosalee and Monroe. He was sitting on the counter now, legs dangling over the side, hugging Rosalee, no longer growling.
The door opened then and Nick and Hank entered. The two men stopped when they saw the tableau before them.
“Uh… Did we miss something?” Nick asked.
Juliette smiled.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“So you’ve made no progress on finding a treatment?” Renard asked, his usually controlled voice tinged with impatience.
Monroe scowled. “Pardon us for not having everything figured out in a couple hours,” he said, his voice close to a growl.
Monroe and Renard had remained relatively calm since Nick and Hank’s arrival, but the two men had hair-trigger tempers right now. Nick knew it was due to the Ewig Woge, but that didn’t make it any less irritating.
Everyone had taken up different positions in the spice shop, as if claiming their territory. Monroe and Rosalee remained behind the counter, Renard stood a dozen feet away, and Nick, Juliette, and Hank stood between them, acting as a buffer. At least, Nick hoped they were. The last thing Rosalee needed was for Monroe and Renard to start fighting. There had already been enough damage to her shop tonight as it was. More importantly, Nick feared the two men wouldn’t have any restraint thanks to the Ewig Woge, and both of them could be seriously hurt if they fought. Nick had no idea who would win in a battle between Monroe and Renard, but he didn’t want to find out. He wondered how many similar scenes were playing out in Portland tonight. Family and friends affected by the Ewig Woge who were struggling to keep from attacking one another. Struggling, and maybe failing. And while he and the others stood around the shop bickering, the Ewig Woge continued to spread.
“This is a disaster,” Renard said. “The longer Wesen remain fully woged, the greater the chance we’ll be exposed. And if those of us with more… aggressive natures keep getting worse, before long the city will start experiencing a level of violence like it’s never seen before.”
“You make it sound like it’s some kind of Wesen apocalypse,” Hank said.
“In a very real sense it is,” Renard said. “According to Grimm lore, the Ewig Woge last hit in a time when travel wasn’t nearly as easy as it is today. People can cross the
globe in a matter of hours now. It’s conceivable this condition could spread to every Wesen on the planet, and faster than we think.”
“Maybe that would be a good thing,” Juliette said. Everyone turned to look at her.
“I mean, Wesen have been keeping their existence a secret from humans… well, forever. The Ewig Woge could bring that to an end. Wesen wouldn’t have to hide anymore.”
“It’s a nice thought,” Rosalee said. “And there are a lot of modern Wesen who hope that one day we’ll be able to live openly among humans.”
“But that day’s not here yet,” Monroe said. “Especially if the Ewig Woge makes some of us a little hard to get along with.” He glanced at Renard.
Renard scowled at Monroe, but he didn’t take the bait.
“With all the problems there are in the world today, the last thing humanity needs is to learn that there’s been a race of shapeshifting beings living alongside them in secret,” Renard said. “We’d be hunted like never before. It’d be like the entire human race had become Grimms.”
“Okay, I get the point,” Hank said. “So what can we do to keep things from getting that bad?”
“Maybe it’s time to start thinking about using the Hafen,” Nick said.
Juliette gave him a puzzled look, and he quickly explained to her what a Hafen was.
“Dawn is still several hours off,” Monroe said. “It’s a perfect time for people to head for the forest. They won’t be seen. But a lot of people are going to call in sick to work and school tomorrow, enough to be noticed.”
“We can cover it up with a story about a bad flu strain hitting Portland,” Renard said. “It’s close enough to the truth.”
“None of that’s important now,” Nick said. “First we have to start spreading the word that people need to head for the Hafen.”
“That won’t be hard,” Monroe said. “Each of us has a call list. We call five people, they call five people, and within a couple of hours, Portland’s Wesen will be on the road to Forest Park.”
“All the Wesen who are on the lists,” Rosalee said.
“And who get the call,” Juliette added.
“I’ve got Wesen connections throughout Portland,” Renard said. “Uniformed officers, firefighters, paramedics, sanitation workers… They can remain in the city to keep an eye out for any Wesen suffering from Ewig Woge who don’t get the message to go to the Hafen.” He turned to Nick and Hank. “And you two can keep working on trying to track down the Wechselbalg.”
Nick nodded.
“You have to do whatever it takes to stop the Wechselbalg,” Rosalee said. “I know that. But try your best not to kill it. We may need some of its substance in order to make a cure for the Ewig Woge.”
“We’ll take him alive if we can,” Nick said. If it came down to killing the Wechselbalg to save an innocent life, he’d do it, no question. Otherwise, he’d try his damnedest to bring the shapeshifter in alive.
Rosalee nodded. “Okay. While you’re out chasing the Wechselbalg, Monroe and I will stay here and keep searching for some kind of treatment for the Ewig Woge.”
“After we call the people on our lists,” Monroe said. Rosalee smiled at him and nodded.
“I can stay and help you,” Juliette said, and then she yawned.
“You’ve been on your feet for almost twenty hours,” Nick said. “You should go home and get some sleep.”
“All of you are tired too,” she protested.
“Not really,” Rosalee said. “The Ewig Woge is acting like a stimulant on our systems. But if we do find a treatment for it, I may need some ingredients that I don’t have on hand. That means I’ll need someone who isn’t an Ewig Woge-affected Wesen to go pick them up for me. You should get some rest now, so you’ll be more alert later, when we’ll need you.”
Juliette frowned as she thought it over. Nick knew she hated the idea of leaving her friends during a time of need, but she was an intelligent and practical person. He knew what she’d decide to do.
“Fine,” Juliette said. “But you promise to call me the moment you need me, okay?” She looked at Nick. “That goes for you, too.”
“Promise,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride back to the storage facility so you can pick up your car.”
“You’ve got too much to do,” she said. “I’ll call a cab.” After she made the call, she kissed him goodbye. Then with a tired smile and wave for the others, she left the shop.
Nick was glad she was going home. He had no idea how bad the situation in town would become, and he felt better knowing she’d be safe. Juliette was smarter than he was, and brave as hell, but she didn’t have his Grimm abilities or Hank’s police training. He’d taught her to shoot and she practiced on a fairly regular basis, but she wasn’t ready to hold her own in a gun battle yet. He hoped she’d never have to.
“All right,” Nick said. “Let’s get to work.”
* * *
Juliette stared at the book open before her on the spice shop counter. She was trying to read it, but the text refused to come all the way into focus. And when it did clear for several seconds, it was a nonsense jumble of letters and weird symbols that weren’t letters at all. She didn’t recognize it as a foreign language, at least not any that she was familiar with.
She turned the book so Monroe and Rosalee could see it better.
“Hey, do either of you have any idea what…”
Her voice died when she looked away from the baffling pages and toward her friends. They stood behind the counter, fully woged—which should have bothered her, but for some reason it didn’t. It seemed almost normal somehow. What did bother her was how much they’d woged. Both were far more bestial than she’d ever seen them before. Even in Wesen form they normally remained human-looking, although with certain animal-like features. But while their bodies were still mostly humanoid, Monroe had the head of a brown-furred wolf, and Rosalee an orange-and-white-furred fox. As disturbing as that was, their features were exaggerated versions of those animals. Sharper teeth, longer tapering canine ears, lengthy lolling tongues, and eyes that seemed to glow with internal light: an angry crimson for Monroe, a baleful yellow for Rosalee. Both Wesen began growling deep in their throats, and they raised wickedly clawed hands and lunged across the counter to grab her.
Juliette stepped back just in time to avoid their swiping claws, but in doing so she lost her balance and stumbled backward. She would’ve fallen if she hadn’t backed into something solid which prevented her. She spun around and realized she’d bumped into someone, a slim man wearing a tailored suit.
“Oh, Sean, I’m so sorry, but—”
She broke off as she looked at his face and saw he’d undergone a transformation even more severe than Monroe’s and Rosalee’s. His face was covered with open wounds, festering sores, raw scar tissue, and places where the skin had been torn away to reveal gleaming bone. One eye was gone, submerged completely beneath distorted, swollen flesh, and his lips were drawn back from his teeth, giving him a perpetual grimace. His ears were little more than shriveled nubs, and most of his hair was gone, with only a few ragged patches remaining. A terrible smell of rot and infection wafted from him, so strong that it made her gorge rise. Hot acid seared her throat, and it took a supreme effort of will to keep from vomiting.
Renard’s lone eye blazed with hatred and he snarled as he took hold of her shoulders with ravaged hands. She screamed, tore free of his grasp, and ran past him toward the door. She heard Monroe and Rosalee come out from behind the counter, growling and breathing hard, and she didn’t have to look back to know they were coming after her. Renard, too, in all likelihood.
She threw open the door so hard it slammed against the inner wall and the bells jangled loudly. She plunged into the night and began running. She didn’t consciously pick a direction. She was operating almost entirely on survival instinct now. All she knew was she had to get as far away as possible from the spice shop and the nightmarish creatures her friends had become.
/> She ran faster than she ever had in her life. For a time during her teenage years, she’d run track, and she still ran whenever she could fit it into her busy schedule. But even at the peak of her training and conditioning, she’d never run like this. Her legs flew across the asphalt, her feet blurring. She ran lightly and easily, her heart-rate steady, her breath moving in and out of her lungs slow and even. She felt as if she could keep going like this for hours, maybe forever, her pace never slackening, her body never tiring. Despite the situation, the feeling was exhilarating, and she couldn’t help bursting out with a joyous laugh.
But her joy instantly gave way to terror when she heard loud snarling behind her, accompanied by the skittering of claws on the hard surface of the street. She knew she shouldn’t look back, but she couldn’t stop herself. She glanced over her shoulder, and for an instant, she didn’t understand what she was seeing. Two canines were running alongside a twisted, misshapen being that could only generously be referred to as human. Then she realized the canines were a wolf and a fox—not Wesen, but actual animals. The other creature, which ran with lurching, spastic motions because of its malformed limbs, was covered with grotesquely ravaged skin that put her in mind of someone who’d been severely burned over his or her entire body. The creature was naked, but its skin was so mottled by wounds and scars that it almost looked like it was clothed. All three beasts were snarling, teeth gnashing, foam flecking their jaws. She could feel the mindless bloodlust pouring from them, and she knew that if they managed to run her down, they would tear her limb from limb and laugh as they bathed in her blood.
She faced forward and put on a fresh burst of speed, determined to outdistance her savage pursuers. But no matter how fast she ran, they were always there behind her, a little closer each time she looked.
She had no idea how long she ran. It could’ve been minutes, hours, or days. But just as she feared that she’d never be able to escape the creatures who had once been her friends, a dark figure stepped out from an alley ahead of her, walked into the middle of the street, and turned to face her. She felt a stab of fear upon seeing the figure, but as she drew closer to it, she was almost deliriously relieved to see that it was Nick. He was holding a large object in his hand, and as she neared him, she saw that it was a medieval battle-axe, the polished blade gleaming with a silvery light.
