by Tim Waggoner
As they reached the center of the clearing, Nick headed for the stone while Monroe and Bud joined the others. Rosalee had already stepped down from the Speaking Stone to administer the endorphin-enhancer, and as Nick stepped up onto it, he looked at Juliette and whispered, “I have no idea what to say.”
She smiled. “You’ve got this.”
He smiled back. “Let’s hope.”
Then he turned to face the crowd, took a deep breath, and began to speak.
* * *
Nick was normally a confident, decisive man. Some of that was due to his natural personality and his police training, but a lot of it was due to how his Aunt Marie had raised him. And he supposed a good portion of it was due to his being a Grimm. After all, you wouldn’t last long in a fight against a predatory Wesen if you couldn’t make quick decisions. But standing there on the Speaking Stone beneath the night sky, looking out at a mass of Wesen faces illuminated by the glow of firelight, he didn’t feel very confident. The men and woman gazed back at him with a mixture of fear and hatred, and he was well aware that if they chose to rush him all at once, there was nothing he could do to prevent them from tearing him limb from limb.
Talk about a tough crowd, he thought.
The plan had been for him to remain unnoticed while he searched the Hafen for the Wechselbalg. But given the way the situation had begun to deteriorate for Rosalee, he felt he had no choice but to step in. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.
He had no idea where to begin, so he took a deep breath and just started talking.
“My name is Nick Burkhardt, and yes, I am a Grimm. But I’m not like the Grimms in the stories you’ve heard all your lives. I’m not a monster any more than any of you are. We’re all people. As different from the rest of humanity as we are from each other, maybe, but in all the ways that truly matter, we’re the same. You want to live your lives in peace. I want to help make that possible. It’s why I became a police officer, and it’s what I hope to accomplish as a Grimm. I want to make peace possible—for both Wesen and humans.”
He paused to gauge the crowd’s response to his words. He couldn’t tell what they thought about what he was saying, but they all appeared to be listening. He chose to take that as a good sign.
But before he could start speaking again, the Skalengeck woman whose daughter the Wechselbalg had killed stepped up to the Speaking Stone and glared up at him.
“Is killing teenagers your idea of keeping the peace?” she demanded. “The only peace your kind is interested in showing us is the peace of the grave!”
She bared her teeth at him, and the gill slits on the sides of her neck opened and closed, as if she were breathing heavily.
“I didn’t kill your daughter or her boyfriend,” Nick said. He was careful to meet the woman’s gaze and keep his tone calm and even. Even without the influence of the Ewig Woge, she would’ve been devastated by the loss of her child. But under the Ewig Woge’s influence, it wouldn’t take much to goad her into attacking him.
“It’s difficult to explain,” he continued, “but a shapeshifting Wesen called a Wechselbalg made itself into a duplicate of me. That’s who killed your daughter.” He paused, then added, “If I’d managed to stop the Wechselbalg when I first encountered it, your daughter would still be alive, and for that I’m truly sorry.”
When he spoke the word Wechselbalg, many Wesen in the crowd looked at each other, confused. But recognition showed on a number of faces, and Nick caught a few quick snatches of conversation.
“Could it be true?”
“I thought they were only a legend.”
“My grandmother said she met one once.”
The Skalengeck woman flexed her clawed fingers.
“I thought Grimms were supposed to be smart,” she said. “Do you really expect me to believe a ridiculous story like that?”
“Honestly? No. But it’s the truth. And I can think of only one way to prove it to you.” He reached around his back and drew his Glock. The Skalengeck woman’s eyes widened in horror, but before she or anyone else could react further, he turned and held the weapon out to Juliette. She hesitated before taking it, eyes filled with worry. But she took hold of the gun and, after a second of thought, laid it on the ground.
Nick faced the Skalengeck woman once more.
“I’m unarmed,” he said. He got down on his knees and clasped his hands behind his back. “All it would take to kill me right now would be one solid strike with your claws. You could tear my throat out before I could react.”
“Nick, no!” Juliette said.
Hank stepped to her side and put a hand on her shoulder, as much to hold her back as to comfort her, Nick knew. Hank might not like what he was attempting any more than Juliette, but Nick knew his partner would back his play, regardless.
For her part, the Skalengeck woman seemed confused. He could still feel anger radiating from her, but it was tempered by a struggle to understand what was happening.
“If I had killed your daughter, if I was the monster so many Wesen believe me to be, why would I have come to the Hafen in the first place? And why would I offer myself to you like this? If you truly believe there’s no chance at all that I might be telling the truth about the Wechselbalg, then go ahead. Kill me.”
And with that, Nick closed his eyes.
The entire Hafen fell silent. Nick could hear people breathing, and he thought he could almost hear their hearts beating as well. He could feel the emotional atmosphere in the clearing shift from stifling, pent-up aggression to surprised disbelief.
“Kill him!” someone shouted, but the words lacked conviction, were almost a question.
Several moments passed in silence after that, and then Nick heard the Skalengeck woman whisper softly, “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Nick opened his eyes, but before he could say anything to the woman, he heard a rustling noise, followed by a series of grunts and then a cry of pain. A section of the foliage that enclosed the clearing was shoved violently aside, and an instant later a figure was hurled into the clearing. The body hit the ground hard and slid several feet before coming to a stop. He could see it was a Wildermann female. The back of her coat was stained with blood, and the spot widened as Nick watched. He hadn’t heard a gunshot, so she must’ve been stabbed by something big and nasty from the look of it.
He got to his feet, but before he could rush to the woman’s side to check for a pulse, another figure entered the Hafen. This one strolled in with an easy confidence, as if he owned the place, and Nick was not surprised to see the Wechselbalg had finally arrived. They’d already fought two times. Nick was determined the third would be last.
“There’s the shapeshifter,” Monroe said, pointing to the Wechselbalg. “Now do you believe Nick?”
With a dark gleam in his eyes and a cruel smile on his face, the Wechselbalg looked like a storybook Grimm plucked from the nightmares of Wesen children and made flesh. He was splattered with blood from head to toe and carried a pair of wicked-looking ancient weapons. Nick recognized them, and he knew the creature had paid a visit to Aunt Marie’s trailer. The axe was designed for swift, efficient decapitation of Wesen with dense bone structure, while the curved sword was a talwar. It was a weapon from India, used to dispatch a variety of small-statured Wesen that were related to Indian red scorpions, which were tiny but considered to be the most deadly scorpion in the world. The talwar was slick with blood, and the Wechselbalg held up the curved blade and examined it, as if fascinated.
“I’ve never seen blood by firelight,” he said softly, as it to himself. “It’s actually quite beautiful.”
Their plan had worked, but at a terrible cost. The Wechselbalg had been drawn out into the open, but the woman guarding the entrance to the Hafen had paid with her life.
The assembled Wesen looked to each other, fear and confusion on their inhuman faces. As emotionally fragile as they were under the Ewig Woge, the sight of another Nick Burkhardt—one who looked like
the bloodthirsty Grimms of legend—might cause them to flee the Hafen in terror. They couldn’t afford to have that happen. Once the Wesen dispersed it would be difficult, if not impossible, to round them all up and administer Rosalee’s cure. He had to find a way to keep them calm.
“You don’t have to be afraid!” He spoke loudly so he could be heard throughout the Hafen. “None of you are in any danger. It’s me the Wechselbalg wants. He wants to finish duplicating me before the body he’s wearing burns out.”
The Wechselbalg kept his gaze fastened on Nick as he walked further into the clearing. He passed by the body of the Wildermann female, but he paid it no attention. It was as if she had ceased to exist for him, or had never existed in the first place. The Wechselbalg might be mentally ill and ultimately not responsible for his actions, but upon seeing him walk past the woman he’d killed without even a hint of acknowledgment, Nick vowed that whatever else happened here tonight, the Wechselbalg would not hurt anyone else, even if he had to sacrifice his own life to make certain.
The Wechselbalg positioned himself between the crowd and the Speaking Stone. He slowly swept his gaze over the gathered Wesen, and more than a few averted their eyes or took several steps backward. Then he turned to face Nick.
“Nice try, shapeshifter,” the Wechselbalg said. “But of the two of us, which one seems more like a true Grimm? You? You knelt before that creature—” he used the talwar to gesture at the Skalengeck, who remained standing close to the Speaking Stone “—and offered your life to her. Is that the sort of thing a real Grimm would do?”
Most of the Wesen remained silent, but some looked doubtful, and a handful began to whisper among themselves.
“It’s exactly the kind of thing he would do,” Juliette said. She gave Nick a smile, and he returned it.
The Wechselbalg turned to face Juliette. “He has you fooled, too? I’d hoped you of all people would be able to tell the difference between us.” His voice was that of a man trying to contain his sorrow and disappointment.
“You can cut the crap,” Hank said. “Nobody’s buying it.”
Nick wasn’t so certain of that. The vast majority of Portland’s Wesen knew him only by reputation. It was one thing to hear that a different kind of Grimm lived and worked in town. It was another to believe it, especially given the well-earned reputation Grimms had made for themselves as merciless killers over the centuries.
“He’s telling the truth about one thing,” the Wechselbalg said. “I have no interest in any of you here. Not tonight, anyway. I’ve only come here for him.”
He leveled the talwar at Nick to emphasize his words.
Nick noticed something then. The Wechselbalg was sweating. Nick didn’t remember seeing him do that before. His body is already starting to burn out, Nick realized. If he could get the creature to expend its dwindling energy reserves, he’d have a chance to defeat it. Assuming he could exhaust the Wechselbalg before it killed him.
The Wechselbalg continued. “As long as the rest of you stay back and don’t interfere, no harm will come to you.”
“Sheesh,” Monroe said. “Do you come up with that corny dialogue all by yourself, or is there a special website you download it from?”
The Wechselbalg shot Monroe a venomous glare, and the Blutbad’s eyes became a deeper crimson, and he began growling softly.
Rosalee put a hand on Monroe’s arm. “Don’t,” she said.
Monroe scowled at her, but he stopped growling.
Nick stepped down from the Speaking Stone. Juliette leaned closer and whispered, “Do you want your gun?”
He shook his head. They needed to capture the Wecheselbalg alive. Besides, if he simply shot the shapeshifter as he attacked, he’d look like a cold-hearted executioner to the assembled Wesen. If he wanted them to trust him, he was going to have to do this the hard way. He then looked at Rosalee. “Start getting the cure ready.”
She nodded. “Be careful.”
He smiled. “That’s the plan.”
Both Hank and Renard inclined their heads at him, a sign of respect and encouragement. Bud gave him a nervous smile and a thumbs-up.
“I should be going out there with you,” Monroe said. He fixed his red-eyed glare on the Wechselbalg and bared his teeth.
Nick put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Maybe next time.”
Juliette gave him quick kiss, and it did more for him than any verbal encouragement ever could. Her eyes wished him good luck, and then he turned away from her and started walking toward the Wechselbalg.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to give me one of those weapons and make it a fair fight,” he said.
The Wechselbalg grinned. “I thought heroes liked to have the odds stacked against them.”
Nick noted the slight strain in the Wechselbalg’s voice, saw his arms tremble slightly from the effort of holding both the axe and sword. He stopped just outside the Wechselbalg’s striking range. He knew it was useless, but he had to try reasoning with the Wechselbalg one last time.
“Please let us help you,” he said. “You’re sick, and I’m not just talking about how you feel physically. You’re not thinking clearly. You get confused easily, forget things. You aren’t sure who you really are.”
As Nick spoke, the Wechselbalg’s expression became uncertain, but then it hardened into a mask of implacable hatred.
“You’re wrong. I know exactly who I am. I’m Nick Burkhardt. And you’re not.”
The Wechselbalg let out a cry of rage, raised his two weapons, and came charging toward Nick. The weight of both weapons threw the Wechselbalg off balance, making his charge a clumsy one. It was a simple matter for Nick to step out of the way and avoid a sword strike. But the Wechselbalg’s attack was so slow and awkward, Nick could’ve remained motionless as a statue and still the creature would’ve missed.
The Wechselbalg stumbled as he tried to regain his balance, and Nick took advantage of the opening. He stepped forward, planted a foot on the Wechselbalg’s rear, and shoved. Hard. The shapeshifter stumbled even farther, then one of his feet slipped out from under him and he fell. He managed to twist as he went down, avoiding getting wounded by his own weapons. He landed on his right side, and the breath was driven out of his lungs with a harsh burst of air.
Nick moved forward, but the Wechselbalg rolled onto his back and hurled the battle-axe at Nick. The weapon spun end over end toward him, but he didn’t attempt to get out of its way. Nick’s hand became a blur of motion and he snatched hold of the axe handle and caught the weapon easily.
“I see you changed your mind about sharing,” Nick said. “Thanks.”
The Wechselbalg snarled in frustration. Sweat poured down his face, and his skin reddened, as if he’d somehow been exposed to a day’s worth of unshielded sunlight in the last few minutes. Nick lunged again, intending to thump the Wechselbalg on top of the head with the butt of the axe handle, hopefully rendering him unconscious. But despite looking like he was on the verge of collapsing, the Wechselbalg jumped to his feet in a single fluid motion and swung the talwar at Nick’s neck. The ancient Romans had called Grimm Decapitari, and it seemed like the Wechselbalg intended to live up that heritage. Nick leaned back and brought up his newly acquired axe at the same time. Metal clanged on metal, and he felt the jolt of the blow all the way up his arm and into his shoulder. Had the Wechselbalg only been acting as if he were weakened in order to lull him into overconfidence? No, the physical signs of the shapeshifter’s exhaustion were real. Nick understood then that the Wechselbalg was drawing on his last reserves of energy. That made him desperate, which in turn made him all the more dangerous.
The Wechselbalg put on a surprising burst of speed and spun around in the opposite direction. Halfway through the maneuver, he took a two-handed grip on the talwar to put more power into his strike. Nick was equally as fast, though, and he dropped to a crouching position. The sword blade cut through the air above his head, and the Wechselbalg—not anticipating the lac
k of resistance—became unbalanced once more. Nick swept his left leg out and knocked the Wechselbalg’s legs out from under him. The Wechselbalg crashed to the ground, but he managed to maintain his grip on the sword. Nick rose to his feet and brought the flat of the axe down, intending to give the Wechselbalg a solid enough blow to the head to knock him out. But the Wechselbalg rolled away as the axe came down, and the only thing Nick managed to strike was a patch of grass-covered earth.
That’s exactly what I would’ve done, he thought.
The Wechselbalg might not have been an exact copy of him, especially when it came to personality, but in terms of reflexes and fighting skill, it was like he was battling himself. How could he get an advantage over a being who could match his speed and strength?
By exploiting his one weakness, Nick realized.
The Wechselbalg came out of his roll and rose to his feet in a single graceful move. He spun around to face Nick, talwar brandished to defend against the next attack. But Nick made no move toward the Wechselbalg. Instead, he spoke.
“You’re sweating a hell of a lot. Are you all right?”
The Wechselbalg frowned, and his gaze became calculating. When he didn’t reply, Nick went on.
“Me, I feel fine. I’m barely winded, in fact. I could keep on going like this for hours.”
The Wechselbalg glared at him and ground his teeth.
“But I suppose that’s because I’m a Grimm. A real one.”
The Wechselbalg bared his teeth and let out a savage snarl that was more animal than human.
“And you’re…” He trailed off, frowning. “What is it you are again?”
“I’m. Nick. Burkhardt!”
The Wechselbalg’s voice rose to a scream. He dropped the talwar and came running toward Nick, spines extending from his fingers. He let out an inarticulate cry as he ran, and the bright light of madness blazed in his eyes. Sweat poured off of him like water, and Nick wouldn’t have been surprised if the creature’s entire body liquefied and splashed to the ground where it would be absorbed by the soil.
Nick had no idea if the Wechselbalg would be able to complete the duplication process if he managed to sink those spines into his flesh again, but he wasn’t going to give the creature the chance to find out.
