Chasing Fairytales

She was sure that her head snapped at that. Confusion arose when she finally took in a deeper breath only to be filled with that scent that she had always thought it was only a memory. Cath was right and if she didn’t know any better she would have stood from her chair and rush over at the man.


“Is that possible?” she questioned, her blue eyes staring at her sister. Could it be really true that there was someone else? He did smell slightly different than her sister but there was no doubt that there was something familiar there.


Her eyes once more turned only to be locked with a pair of brown ones, forcing hers away a second after the contact. It was getting out of hand, losing control over for something she had been dealing with her entire life made her feel useless. Deep inside there was something slowly breaking free, making her angry for not knowing how to stop it. Cathaine had been there for her always and she was grateful, but it was becoming a burden for both of them.

“I need to get out of here fast.” She said taking a breath and calming down her mind, before smiling and rising up from the table. “I will be in the bathroom. I won’t run away, I…” she paused for a bit to remove a bang of hair from her face behind her ear. “I need time to cool off.” She placed a hand over her sister’s cheek and gave a reassuring squeeze before making her way behind the bathroom door.





===============================================





Even though he had seen the whole scene and heard the whole conversation between the SHIELD agents, Sean had not giving any sign of being even so little aware of it. Sipping his coffee quietly his eyes watched the retreating back of the girl behind the door.

So there were more Grimms around, which was, probably, supposed to make him feel uneasy, instead he was completely calm and collected. Oddly, his partner had not felt it; otherwise there had been some major change in his attitude, fact which got him again to the point where he wondered if he really had the powers of a normal Grimm.

“If you will excuse me gentlemen.” He nodded towards the three men who might or may not look questionably at him, before making his way towards the bathroom.

There was something he had to check by himself before pass it to his partner and maybe the rest of the ‘team’. He smirked at the thought when his hand pushed the door and slid behind it.

Luckily for him there was a common room before the bathrooms were separated for men and women.


Clarise had felt it; it was there, strong and disturbing but it was there. Her body tensed when the man passed by her and settled at the sink next to her. Out of all sink, it had to be the one next to her.


Sean could hear the deep breaths she was taking while her hands shook visibly under the stream of water. There was something more to her than it seemed and he mentally cursed for coming. His eyes searched her tiny frame and the marks on her arms that were probably hidden from the world under those sleeves. He was edgy to say something, to reassure her that he was not like the others but his words died in his throat when two blue eyes starred back at him and for the first time he cursed loudly.


“Might as well say what you have to say.” She turned to fully face him and he could see the black iris getting larger than normally. For the first time she felt in control rather than having her sister there. For a first time she was doing well, she mentally cheered as her eyes kept glued on the man in front of her. There were plans her brain was sorting out, ways of escaping in the worst scenario where he would go defensive and attack, but from the way he smelled, he was relaxed, even a bit surprised and pleased.

She frowned. His eyes were checking her. She took in a breath and she frowned even deeper. He was not aroused, he was…curious? Her eyebrows shot up taking a small step back.



“You are a Grimm.” He finally said, regaining his posture.

“Zauberbiest.” She stated, rising her chin. Well this was going well. In spite of the occurrence, Clarise let herself relax a bit.

If he was any other Zauberbiest he would have attacked her until now, yet she didn't completely let her guard down. She just wanted to find out what he wanted.

“I was not aware of other Grimms being alive.” Sean pressed. There had to be something going on with her.

“Is it your business to know if Grimms are alive?” Clarise questioned.

“No, but my partner has been going through hell to know if other are alive.” He turned again towards the sink and he saw the tension getting back over her. “I do not mean harm to any of your kind.” He reassured again. “He is a Grimm as well.” He glanced over at her from the mirror. “But not as…gifted…as you are.” He chose his words carefully. He didn’t wait for any reply as he dried his hands and left from the room.


That’s when Clarise let herself breath normally before she rushed to the sink, cupped some cold water and splashed it over her face when her eyes spotted a small card. She took it between her fingers and turned it only to find a name and a phone number on it.


“Sean Renard.” She read the name loudly before frowning, yet tucking the small paper card into her pocket.

She should run. Her brains played this on repeat like a tantalizingly painful mantra for the better part of the last minute.

She tried, genuinely fucking tried, to will herself to look away and not to pry into the conversation of the table that seemed mockingly close in proximity. But she still heard it, or the gist of it, just before she willed her abilities into submission. But no amount of sensory blocking could muffle the loud declaration the red spandex clad man made at the fondness he held towards his own dingleberries. Cath chocked on her soda at that; loud enough to draw the unwanted attention of the table in question and earning a pointed look from Wade who seemed to be either frozen in panic or homicidally still – which could go either way with Deadpool really; she did the research, she knew what he was capable off. And Cathaine suddenly found herself wishing very badly that spontaneous human combustion was an actual thing, or at the very least the ground could split in two and swallow her hole. Anything to make this less awkward.

Something in her must have snapped her back to her senses though, because the next thing she’s doing is silently motioning for the waitress and politely asking for their check, and a serving of chocolate pancakes to go. The woman nods back with a bit too much enthusiasm for her liking, but she bites back the impulse to simply glare her into submission so she simply offers a smile that she hopes comes out sincere and not at all forced. Which it totally fucking was.
Her eyes casually drift over the table, and their eyes lock instantaneous and unredeemable in any way. He fidgets for a second under her eyes, but his shoulders tense and the hand that was casually elbowed on the table clenches and unclenches in a manner that has her thinking it’s some form of stress copping mechanism. Good, at least she wasn’t the only one freaked out about this.

Then Deadpool stands and starts walking towards her table; and her entire little mantra begins trotting through her mind like a never-ending flood that was accompanied by the occasional torrent of self-deprecating profanities and pleas to the universe itself.
“Fancy meeting you here.” He said casually, palm pressed flat on her table while he towers down at her with an impassive smirk from behind that spandex mask she suddenly hates.

“Not fancy, and as pickup lines go that has to be one of your weakest. “ she replies, somehow finding the edge in her tone and clinging to it, because he doesn’t need to know how out of her mind this entire situation has her. Wade chuckled at that, and she hated to admit how relaxed that simple action made her.

“Of course.” He humms, shifting his weight from one foot to another and leaning in closer “But my arsenal of pickup lines are reserved for actual targets.” He said, and he had no why his brain chose to follow with the cold hearted douchebag approach. Hell, he wasn’t even aware he’d moved from his table until he was staring down at her let alone why he’s doing it. But her eyes were driving him insane, the blue in them feeling like it actually bore through his ribcage and part of him decided he couldn’t take this anymore. He’d never really been that keen on defense, and offence was always fun. So here he was. Playing detached douche to a girl that he would very seriously give his kidney to date – and holy shit that sounded intense.

[We’re turning into the kill happy version of Van Gogh]

{I suppose it’s too late to tell you that you’re an idiot and that look she’s giving you right now is genuine hurt?} the yellow box asks and Wade innerly winces at the way her eyes cast downwards for that split second before she catches herself and that mocking smirk is back firmly in place.

“Cute.” Is all she said in way that has him feeling incredibly stupid and immature at the same time “What do you want, Deadpool?” she accentuates the tittle, lets it linger into a point that she is keeping him at arm’s length to reprimand his attitude ; and like a little puppy Wade wants to curl in on himself and cower away from it.

“We’re working the same case.” He said earnestly.

“True, but from different angles. I’d venture in fact to guess that your cop friend over there has more in common with my methods than you do.” And something fiercely menacing fires up in Wade at that, and a almost inaudible growl pours out of his as he asks

“Who? Him?” he nudges his head at his own table, ignoring the way Peter looks back between talking animatedly with Nick about god fucking knows what. “A rookie cop with a stuck up partner does it for you than the freak with the blades on his back?”

“You’re not supposed to do it for me remember? I’m not a target.” And fuck him for walking straight into that one. “Look,” she said while standing from her table, putting everything in bags and preparing to leave “I’d be very fucking weary those two if I were you. Especially the suit.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Cat?” he asked in a way that might have come out more familiar than it was intended, but if it did offend she didn’t show it.

“A lot.” She admitted “But then again so are you.” She moves past him and drops a card on the table that he instinctually reaches for, and something in him coils at the realization that it’s her number “This is just our second date sunshine. I’m not about to share my toys with you just because your ass looks good in spandex.”

“I … “he wants to say things, horrible things, filthy things but she cuts him off with a look that screams concern and worry.

“Don’t be alone with the suit. Don’t trust the rookie cop. Be careful. “ she smiled and turned towards the bathrooms “Oh and tell Spidey I’m a huge fan. And watch his ass too kay? He’s a bit naïve.” And Wade snorts at how true that last part really is while his fingers slowly curl around the business card.


She’s standing in front of the bathroom for a total of 20 seconds when she hears the conversation – or at the very least, the last bits of the conversation – between her sister and the Zauberbiest. The door is subsequently slammed with a bit too much force than she intended too, and maybe the hinges might have come loose a bit at that, but her eyes are unnerving; eyeing the man with a look that screams of murder and pain if he so much as looks at her sister again.



“The fact that you carry a badge and gun means somebody will miss you when I’ll try to sever your spine with my hunting knife for cornering my sister in the bathroom.” She glowers low and dark, patting the edge of the blade against her thigh. “And the fact that you smell scared means that you know just how honest I am being.”

He could feel it. Sean was not stupid. What surprised him was not the fact that she had been threatened but the fact that she actually felt the small amount of fear he let himself slide. Sean was sure that nothing was shown on his features, neither in his stance, but somehow the girl knew he was scared.


Scared of that little beat his heart gave aside its normal beating.


“I had not cornered your sister.” He stated with a low tone before moving forward only to find the door blocked by that little girl. “You are wasting my time as well as yours.” His honey colored eyes locked with determined icy ones. She was a tough one, his mind mentally smiled, wondering just how much the two could differ.


“Your sister will come out any time now and I don’t think you would want her to see us dominating each other. I suggest we leave.” His lips tighten in that typical line that screamed frustration while his eyes bore the anger deep inside them. This girl was childish if she though he would do anything more than just exchange couple of words, especially in a popular place like that.




Behind the door Clarise froze in front of that mirror she had been since Sean left. There was something about that man that made her uncomfortable. It was not fear, or anger; it was something more to that, something she had not felt before and it was giving her a huge migraine.


Her body leaned forward to press the side of her burning face on the cold mirror while her hands supported the weight on the sink. Smiling at the feeling her eyelids closed and that’s when she heard her sister’s voice.

“I’m in here.” Her voice was hoarse as if someone had choked her before, forcing a small grimace at the sound. The door opened slowly as she backed up from the mirror to face her sister.

“The windows are too small, and the ventilation system is was too tight for our bodies to fit.” She frowned checking one more time the room. “Seriously that’s what you get for choosing cheap restaurants.” She pouted, placing her hands on her hips. “Now what?”

Grimms, as she came to learn throughout her short and pathetic little life, were weird. They weren’t built the same way human generally were – driven by their emotions and with very little strength to back them through it. No. Grimms were strong, resilient, and in control. Above all else, Grimms were expected to be in control of themselves; their strength, and especially their emotions. Their books and manuscripts were littered with this kind of dogma: the children were bred for battle, trained mercilessly, relentlessly tested, and expected to clinically approach their lives as cautiously expendable.

At least , when they used to be more of them around that is.

If asked about it – and probably after a severe drinking session – she would admit to remembering glimpses of this life before it abruptly ended with that fire. The screaming, the yelling, the scolding, the disappointed looks when she would miss landing a punch on one of her sparing partners – and the emotionless approach injuries were regarded. Bruises, bloody noses, broken bones … it hardly mattered ; it was always expected to mend itself, or at the very worst for it to be treated without a single whimper from the child in question.

She used to wonder for a while there just how much Clare remembered of this. She was treated differently than Cath after all; she was the ‘unstable’ one, driven by emotions and prone to … ‘falling’. For that matter, they both were treated differently by comparison to the rest of the kids; because they were different, because they were … abominations. She still cringed at the word her grandmother would choose to address them by, even after all these years.

You see, twins weren’t common within the Grimm community, but they were practically unheard off within the Du’Buhuir family. There was a reason that: over the course of, perhaps ,centuries every single pair of twins born in the family had been slaughtered. And, if the books were right, there was a reason for that as well: Grimm twins were … problematic. One of them always unstable and violent, driven by nothing but blind rage - the lore called it ‘falling into darkness’. She had no idea why her parents decided to go against the norm and spare them their lives; truth be told she hardly cared.
For her part however, Cathaine had for years refused to heed any of the warning she read in those accursed books they inherited from that fire; that is until Clary started losing control. Little by little, inch by inch, her sister got worse with every passing year. It broke Cathaine when it happened, and she bitterly remembers running into the forest relentlessly for three days and nights – crying and howling at the stars at the injustice of it all. She always expected it to be her, not Clarise; Clarise was special, she was unique … she deserved better. After that however – after she clawed at her own eyes to dry out the tears, and dug her nails deep enough into her own palms to welch away the pain – she got her act together and crawled with her tail between her legs back at her sisters side; clutching to her and rocking her in her arms while apology after apology poured out of her.

That was Cathaine’s moment of weakness. And the only one she ever allowed herself to have. Clare was her sister, and they were each other’s last line of defense. But above all else Cathaine was Grimm, and Grimms did not fall into fear. Fear had been one of the first emotion her father had taught her to control, and she would honor his memory by fallowing his teachings.

Or at least, she thought she would. Because right then, seeing the creature fallow her sister into the bathroom had taken every ounce of self-control out of her. The impulse to lash out, to cut him down, to take her away and keep her safe literally buzzed underneath her skin to the point that even the conversation with Deadpool had to be rushed and pushed aside.

And now here she was. Left in the small communal hall of the bathrooms – the door the Zuberbiest exited from swinging idly behind her, while her mind whirred within her. It felt like a spark of elasticity hammering behind her eyes, vibrating beneath her skin, humming, soft and reassuring against the very basics of her instincts. It was an incredibly familiar feeling – one that would come alive when they would be out on a hunt, moments before a kill, or in those insane seconds when her life would flash in front of her eyes. And after years of being afraid of it she came to the slow realization that this was the twisted part of her Grimm nature – the one that would push everything in her to fight tooth and nail to get a kill. Clinical and emotionless. It was never settling, and quite often unnerving. But right now, faced with the Zauberbiest's words lingering in her mind, Cathaine really couldn’t find it in her to care.

She wanted him dead.

“ Nothing.” She said, eyes glazed and unfocused, staring right through her sister unblinkingly “I had a witty little conversation with … the zaubi.” She murmured before her eyes finally snapped into focused and narrowed over her sister, smelling the crumbling control beneath her surface. “Are you ok?”






“That was fast.” Peter said pleasantly, when his friend finally rejoined them at the table; carrying with him a take out bag and a bewildered stare. Peter frowned “Hey, you ok?”

“I was an asshole …” Deadpool nodded back, utterly unaware of the look their cop companion shot him.

“What did you do?” Peter’s eyes narrowed, because he knew Wade; he knew Wade Wilson well enough to not need to hear the answer, but also well enough to know that Wade needed to say it never the less.

“I think I got spooked.” Wade nodded, agreeing with himself with a bit of surprised stupor – because holy shit had he ever been a douchebag. And this sudden realization surprised him not because of his inability to act like a douchebag, No. This surprised him because he usually chooses when to act like a colossal asshole, and it was usually directed towards people who had it coming. But this time? This time Wade got scared at the idea of being  spoken too and treated like a human, and lashed out.

“Wade.” Peter said, because there was no need for superhero anonymity  when it came to Deadpool  - everyone knew who Deadpool was under the mask.

“I acted like an asshole, and she got me chocolate chip pancakes.” He murmured dumbly.

“I … what?” Peter asked, perhaps blinking owlishly behind his mask, and Wade just … nodded.

[We are so screwed.]

{He is so screwed.}

“I’m screwed” Wade conceded silently.

Of course Clarise knew, why she even bothered hiding it was beyond her imagination. She let out a sigh, leaning against the wall while the information sank in. She had a talk with the zaubi.


“Pardon?” she asked, blue eyes glued on her reflection. It looked messy, tired and overall horrible. Few sprinkles of water were visible on her white pale skin, the hair framing her features gently. She could see how her iris was growing and retreating constantly, sign of instability, while her mind pictured a cage with a pair of glowing eyes. “What did you talk about?” she barely realized she had been talking out loud as her eyes kept on staring forward, unable to even move. It sounded curious, with a hint of disturbance and she mentally wondered why.


“He doesn’t mean harm.” Her eye lids shut heavily, suddenly feeling the need to just close herself inside. It was the truth. The silence bothered her, weighting over as water, suffocating. It was a battle between them, silent yet fierce and Clarise thought about the time when she came bloody, with that wound over her chest. The bound between them cracked since that night and they both knew it, when Clarise refused to say a word and Cath refusing to start it. “Sis…” she stopped for a moment to face her twin, “I am so sorry.” It was quiet, meaningful and with so much hurt covering it that she thought it would break her then.




His heart skipped it. Wildly as a train, it was beating strong against his rib cage, making his stomach tightening. He didn’t show it to anyone, keeping his head high and his face impassive. Standing close to the door, his eyes were staring out the closest window but his mind and attention was behind that closed door. Keeping his emotions in control, he lowered them so they won’t feel him, camouflaging between the humans.


Why was he experiencing these emotions? Why did he felt the need to go back and assure her that he was trustworthy? Why was his body moving by its own, wanting to go back in that dammed room that reeked of Grimm, the people who had been killing his kind for over a millennium? Yes he was working with a Grimm, but one of those which were not even close to what the other two were like. He was not a murderer; he was a warm hearted man, which was fighting to justice and rights. He was a cop just like him, who was taking people to teach them a lesson, to make them better. The twins were not the same, they were strong, had knowledge and skills. Enhanced with higher powers than Nick and there was only one Grimm generation that had those skills. The one who was going against the Royals; His jaw clenched painfully as he snapped back from the door and walked casually towards the table were Nick sipped his black coffee patiently.

“Have you found anything new while I was away?” he asked, totally ignoring the long stare Nick was giving to him.



And of course he was avoiding him, Nick thought, keeping the need to pout at the secrecy Sean was pulling. Nevertheless he continued from where they left off before the whole strange moment occurred.

‘There is nothing you need to apologize for.’

The words snaked themselves inside her mind while a  contemplative frown glared at the stained ceiling of their motel room. She had been engaged in an arduous staring contest with it for the better part of an hour -  running over the day’s events, in what felt like a continuous loop,  and simply trying to make sense of it all.

“Nothing to apologize for …” her frown hardened while the words ghosted over her lips, and the little stress ball she had been diligently squeezing suddenly changed professions to that of a throw-ball. She gave it one final squeeze before it was launched and bounced off the ceiling, only to be caught and subjugated towards the same fate over and over again. It felt oddly cathartic though the frown was still in place. Those words came out of her almost automatically a few hours ago. The sight of her little sister, pale and shaken by her own control while clutching desperately at her own reflection, pulled at something aching in Cath. So she pushed back  all the little voices in her mind that screamed at her to get angry at all of this, to voice her disappointment, to scream, to react , in favor of sweeping it all under the rug. Again.

The ridge that slowly crumbled between them felt heavier tonight. And after they simply walked out the front door – sparing no second glances to the table in question, and ignoring the way she could practically smell the fear and self-doubt pouring off of Wade – she parked them 20 miles away in front of some dingy little hotel and decided to camp it out for the night. About an hour ago, and probably getting fed up by the silent treatment, Clarise declared she was heading out to get them dinner and left without another word after that. The loneliness was …welcoming. It felt easier to focus.  

It felt like they suddenly had all of these secrets between them, secrets that they never had to keep from one another in 20 some years: the fight she had in the woods and the wound she got from it – that no matter how much Clarise tried to wash off still reeked of blutebat, the conversation she apparently carried with the Zauberbiest and her determination to trust him, and finally frequency of her loss of control.

“Nothing to apologize indeed.” She murmured to herself, throwing the ball with a bit too much force and managing to crack  the impact surface. And just as she was preparing an elaborate story to explain – to whomever would inquire- how exactly the ceiling got cracked in such a specific spot, her phone sparked to like in sporadic little vibration. A text message – she glared at the screen – though she didn’t recognize the number, and for a moment she was tempted to simply delete it and move on when curiosity got the better of her.

<They were delicious. Not as good as mine, but hey.> well that was …weird.

<Who is this?> she shot back, though she already had a suspicion as to who exactly she was talking too.

<Your one and only.> was the only thing she got back a few minutes later, and a part of her wanted to laugh at the image she got in her head of a big menacing Deadpool, pacing through his place trying to figure out what to reply back.

<Hello to you to Mr. Deadpool.> she sent first and then added: <to what do I owe the displeasure?>

<First of all Ouch. Secondly it’s Wilson. Wade Wilson.> she stared curiously at this, trying to understand why a superhero would freely give out his identity. <BTW I never got your.>

<My?>

<Last name.> Ah, nice try.

<And you never will. I’m not as liberal with it as you are.>

<Are you cold-shouldering me because of the restaurant thing?> well that was new. For a guy she only met twice, and neither occasion being particularly pleasurable, he certainly seemed to think highly of their interactions.

<We met twice. > she sends back because she is honestly at a loss for words as to how  this should be approached.
<Aha.> is first to arrive then <You still secretly lusted over me from the first second.> of fuck him
<Right, sure. Look, I gave you this number in case you ran into problems with your two shadows. Not for late night booty calls. Mkay.>

<Sure Mr. Maky.>she snorts despite herself at this <I was an ass today. Just wanted to apologize.>

<There’s nothing to apologize for.> she sends, and immediately cringes at it.

<Call you if we get something?>

<I’d appreciate that.>

<Cool.> she receives and then 10 minutes later <So … how ‘bout them Packers ?> she laughs, again chastising herself for it before she finally replies.

<Goodnight, Mr. Wilson.> and she practically feels the grin on his face when he sends back:

<Good night kitkatt.>

The shop was not too crowded as she walked around the isles of vegetables and fruits, looking for something cheap yet enough to make them a decent meal. Couple of old people passed by her smiling shyly at Clarise, who, in return gave a small blush at the eye contact. She wasn’t used to such a welcoming greeting, most of the time keeping away from people as much as possible.

Alone with her mind, sparks of memories came to life from her childhood. The smell of home cooked food hitting her senses as she and her sister would come back from days of training with their father, only to find the wooden table stuffed with food and sweets and their mother kissing them warmly before jumping into the mountain of delicious heaven. That memory brought a smile on her lips as her hand stretched to grab a golden apple before bringing it to her nose to smell it.

Clarise couldn’t help but wonder how a small grocery store could keep clean, fresh vegetables whilst the open, extended supermarkets, where you can get lost in them, has petty, squishy, sometimes musty and tasteless fruits and vegetables in it.
The escape was freeing, she thought silently while walking towards the grain shelf. This grocery store was the first one she could find after a mile or so of continuously walking. Mentally thanking for having a fresh walk in the cold evening, the pressure she felt vanished when the door from the hotel room closed behind her. It was chocking. Probably it was better for both that she left. Cathaine noticed the sudden change in her attitude, Clarise still mentally cringing at the looks she was giving her. She became unstable, hard to control whatever was making her wild, and it started since she came back in this country. It was a burden for both of them, Clarise thought while her lips tighten. She was a burden. An almost visible clear drop of tear fell on her cheek as her hand was brought gently to brush it away.



Shaking her head, Clarise cleared her mind and after a few more turns around the shelves she walked towards the counter satisfied.

And that’s when it hit her. Musky, yet sweet and with a tint of blood, the smell which attacked her that bloody night came powerful as soon as the doors opened. Clarise backed off slowly behind a self to get a better view of the person. It smelled calm, tired and a bit of lusty which forced her eyebrows in a deep frown.

When her eyes spotted a woman dressed in black leather clothes with a cooper golden hair she couldn’t help but quirk as eyebrow. It was unexpected. The body frame was tinier than the other time, or so she recalled, but probably it was now normal and not changed.


So she was the blutbad that made that sweet scar over her chest. The girl moved back, probably looking for something when she decided to play stupid and see if she can get any information out of her. She knew wesen would not attack in popular places and she mentally thanked whoever was out there for having this huge advantage. And so she started slowly moving towards the position of the girl, of course the meat shelf, Clarise wanted to snort at that, pretending to look for something interesting. The smell was powerful and it stinks of blutbad mixed with this sweet scent which drove her crazy. The smell of blood became stronger and she couldn’t help but stare at the woman. A stain of red was covering her lower part of the pants and boots, suddenly a feeling of guilt rising in her stomach.

Clarise new the woman was aware of her presence, yet she was still there buying stuff, smelling like a scared dog she was and spreading that sweetness that got her almost dazed.


“Would you stop that…” Clarise moaned loud.



‘Shit’ the woman cursed mentally, but nevertheless she lowered those pheromones just enough to keep that girl from attacking.

“Who are you?” the woman turned to face what she had been feared of; a Grimm. And what do you know the little one she had attacked that night. “You look cute.” That statement was not meant to be left out from her mind. The woman cursed slowly when she realized she had been saying out loud things, making the other one look at her with narrowed eyes.
“What?” she snapped while honey colored eyes was staring at the girls face. “What are you?”


Clarise was completely confused. She was watching how that woman was arguing with who knows who and she didn’t know how to react. “I’m Amelie.” She started, knowing that the name was unknown for everyone except he sister.

“I’m Angelina.” The woman replied back watching the Grimm closely for any change in her attitude.

The blutbad smelled cautious and that brought a smile on her lips. Good. “Why did you attack me that night?” Clarise went straight on not wanting to prologue this meeting any more. She wanted to go back and eat, sleep and get on with that horrible case.

“Technically sweetie, you jumped on me.” Angelina locked eyes with the shorter girl and something needy appeared in her stomach. Dammit.

“I’m sorry I was lying down on the shore when you decided to go feral on my ass.” Well that sounded wrong as she smelled her arousal getting stronger.


“Because you were about to attack me so I had to get you first.” She smirked, placing one hand on her hips. “Look I’m sorry for that, didn’t know you were a badass.” Angelina showed towards Clarise, smiling wide. “It was an awesome fight though.”

“It would have been, if you didn’t fucking spread all your pheromones and I wouldn’t get this.” Clarise lowered the opening from her blouse to show the red ugly scar on her chest.


But that was a bad move, because you see, when innocent people don’t know how certain grown up things work then they tend to act as if it’s completely normal to show a part of your body, no matter now covered it is, to people who are lusting for…things.



What she heard was only a low growl before she realized that Angelina was pinning her against a shelf painfully and her mouth was completely covering hers in a strong wet kiss. Clarise desperately tried to push back the woman but it was physically impossible due to her weakened body. It was when that cursed tongue pushed inside, everything went blurry and she gave her first kiss away for someone who she barely knew.


Angeline thought she would go insane. From the first time she met with this girl she felt that strong attraction and she mentally cursed that it had to be a Grimm. Deciding that this was getting way out of hand she pulled back with a whimper to see how vulnerable and dazed her little girl was. It sort of hurt her to leave like that but she knew that if she stayed one more minute next to that virgin she would go wild and have her way with her.


Eventually Angelina leaned down and gave one last kiss this time more gentle and sweet before spreading her pheromones at max only to see how the little Grimm was drifting into sleep. “Sweet dreams my little Grimm.” She whispered.



Clarise woke up few minutes later, only to find herself placed on a handmade bed by the shop-man.

“Hey miss are you ok?” she asked and she nodded. “You want me to call the ambulance?” he asked and she just shook her head getting up from the bed.

“I’m fine thank you.’ She reassured searching for her back of groceries when it hit her. She had been kissing her. Her blue eyes got wider before she rushed to pay the man.

She was surprised how fast she got home, or maybe it was the constant mess in her head which didn’t let her realize the time, but now she found herself in front of the motel room and she could feel faintly the sudden change of emotions her sister had form the other side of the door.

Clarise took a deep breath and entered the room.

“Don’t ask questions, I will tell you ok?” she smiled as her hand let go of the bags and went to sit in the hard bed next to her sister.

A single questioning brow rose to that, while a pair of cold blue eyes glances lazily from the bed. She didn’t bother getting up, nor stopping the cathartic throwing of the stress ball – there was no point to it; whatever was coming couldn’t be pleasant. Not judging by the smell of blutbad that was mixing in with her sister sweat. And was that … ?

Oh, ew.

“Dude … you’re turned on.” She said matter-of-facty, frowning slightly at how tense Clarises’ shoulders suddenly got before she returned her focus on a particularly determined throw. The little red ball flew out of her fingertips, soared towards its target, and imbedded itself into it with a loud crack. Cath winced; there goes the deposit.

“Well … that sucks …” she murmured darkly before turning in bed and consequently smushing her check against the questionable comforter. “You were saying?”





On the other side of town Deadpool was grinning maniacly at his cellphone. To be fair, he’d set the damn thing down almost ten minutes ago. But every once in a while Peter could see him sneaking glances towards it, almost willing it back to life. It was adorable, in a pathetic sort of way.

“You’re a moron.” Peter finally said, frowning then smirking triumphantly when his character landed the finishing blow on Wade’s forgotten one.

“Hey! No fair. I wasn’t –“

“Paying attention?” Peter finished, and Wade stuck out his tongue in reply “Like I said MORON.”

“Am not.” Wade shot back, shouldering him hard into the sofa while launching a preemptive strike against his character. It weezed a pathetic little whale before dropping unceremoniously onto the staging arena. “You were saying sunshine ?’” he asked with a bit of wiggle to his brows as he reached for a slice of the mildly ignored pizza. Bloody violence, pizza, and brutal victory – a night Wade could get behind.

“I’m saying,” Peter sighed, controller fastly forgotten on the floor in favor of a slice “ – that you’ve got it bad for a chick that you only met twice.”

“Maybe.” Wade conceded, and Peter tried really hard not to look too surprised at the sudden spark in honesty from his friend.

“But –“ Peter’s brows immediately furrowed, because he’d been down this path with Deadpool before and he knew damn well where it was going.

“Oh don’t start with the self deprecating bullshit again, Wilson.” He groaned, head falling against the couch cushions in desperation “It always leaves me feeling like I’ve just had a meeting with a proctologist.” Wade snorted, because what else could you say to that, before a wicked grin stretched his lips.

“I think I say a porno like that once.”

“Oh fuck no Wilson! If we start talking porn, I’m kicking you out.” Peter snaps, halfheartedly pushing at Wade’s shoulder with the heel of his foot.

“First of all, fuck off I’m on the lease – part of the roommate package. I’m here to stay mother fucker.” He declared with an accusing finger while Peter simply rolled his eyes “Secondly: true friendship is being comfortable enough to openly discuss pornography with each other, ya dildo.”

“Dildo? Are you five?”

“I think ‘dildo’ is a perfectly acceptable insult.” Wade said seriously, before taking another bite out of his pizza “Like, I’d call you a dick but you’re not real enough.” And Peter frowned harder.

“You’re a dick.” Peter murmured darkly behind his slice.

“Why thank you!” Wade replied brightly.

“You are evil.” She threw her hands in the air at the nonchalantly act her sister was pulling and if she didn’t know any better there might have been a second thought that Cathaine actually didn’t care a bit. “And a bastard.” Clarise murmured wanting to finish the conversation that didn’t even started but nevertheless she let the words flow without stopping, and she knew very well that she was panicking. The continuous pacing around the room and the whole hand motioning was stressing but the feeling to just let it all out was very much welcomed. Though one small part she didn’t mentioned because, knowing her sister very well, that woman would not be alive in the next few hours, and a part of her kind of wanted to see her again.

“I don’t know why I am like this, feeling all these…emotions so suddenly.” Something inside her clicked and a face appeared in front of her eyes, widening them at the picture. Sean was standing in front of her with that strong posture and those eyes staring into hers, forcing the body to melt under them. “Fuck!” the eyelids closed while her hands shot up to pull at her hair.

“This is frustrating Cath. What can I do?” she pleaded watching her sister staring at her as if she was an alien then that stupid laugh came out annoying. “It’s not funny you know.” The pout appeared as she fell on the back staring at the two cracks on the ceiling. In a way she was embarrassed. Truth to be told, they never had this talk, ever, and Clarise felt edgy, unable to find the right words to ask. “Um…have you…have you ever kissed someone?” god she felt so stupid while silently expected the laugh to come again.

It took a second for her to realize that her cheeks were actually turning red at that question, before she turned away and stared at the ceiling intently – trying her fucking hardest not to crumble under her sisters stare. There was a reason why this conversation was never approached before. Cathaine had never been good at … this. The whole touchy, feely, open relationship talk scared her. And yeah, maybe a part of her desperately clung to the idea that her little sister would remain as pure as a vestal-fucking-virgin. Heh. But there was also the underlining truth why she shied away from these kind of talks, a truth that perhaps her sister wasn’t ready to hear. Because Cathaine had done more than just kiss, and truth be told she had a habit of repeating this behavior as casually and as detached as possible.

Sex was never anything else but a meaningless pretty face in a sleazy dead-end bar in the middle of butt-fuck-nowhere. It never meant anything, never lasted for more than it should, and whoever she was sharing her bed with (or the occasional backseat, dark alley, pool table, bathroom stall, whatever … she wasn’t picky) would usually be asked to leave as soon as the dead was proverbially done.

It was a means to an end. And concepts like attachment, emotions, and commitment were alien to her in this regard. She never wished for them, nor wondered about them – because as far as she was concerned, relationships were a liability that could end up hurting them. Or worst, hurting Clarise. That’s why she was always careful, always keeping it away from her and away from their lives.

“Uh.” She finally said, rubbing a hand over her face angrily before standing up with a bit too much force and wincing at the screech the bed made beneath them. “I’ve … done more than kiss.” She finally said after a few minutes of silently staring at her own hands

The silence disturbed him in a way, mentally wishing he would be at work, buried in a pile of cases instead of being surrounded by the quiet room. The latest events turned him upside down – more exactly a pair of blue eyes – which had him loosing focus for the first time in his life. Nick had understood and send Sean home as soon as the first sign of confusion was visible. And Sean never let anything to emotionally distracting him, ever. Since he met the girl he had faced a lot of moments where he would space out only to be snapped back to reality by his partner.


The whole meeting with the SHIELD agents was both informative and weird, leaving them suspicious. It wasn’t as if they had nothing to hide, but it seemed that the other two had a bunch of other secrets in hand. There was something connected with the two Grimms and the SHILED that Sean couldn’t place his hand on. However he did wanted to know more about all of them because both teams had something that his family wanted more than anything. A glance towards the watch confirmed the late hour of 3 in the morning and still he could not close those eyes no matter what.


The large window allowed Sean to have the perfect view of a restless city, while the blinking lights gave a strange feeling of fidgety. He wondered if that’s what made him uneasy as he sat in his armchair with his eyes glued over the town. His apartment was luxurious and a bit too extended for a single person but with his reputation and looks it was the perfect nest for a solitary. Being a Royal, even in the slightest part, he had some advantages in hand and of course enough money to support the expenses easily; however sometimes the apartment felt cold and empty, only once in a while being filled with the smell of a home cooked dinner by his housekeeper.


The word lonely became stronger as the Grimm appeared often in front of him, looking hurt, scared or unstable. Sean recalled the size of her iris growing slowly before coming back to its normal size and wondered what that was. For couple of minutes his mind tried hard to remember the stories his mother was telling him about the Grimm when his phone vibrated strongly against the glass table.


He frowned at the caller’s id, taking few seconds more before answering with a grave ‘Eric’.


“Oh don’t be a stranger brother.” the laughs almost made Sean roll his eyes at the obvious fake act he was pulling.

“Can I help you with something?” Sean rushed, getting up from his seat.

“Not for the moment,brother…” there was a pause “ Not for the moment.” Sean could literally see that evil smile on his brother’s face and he couldn’t help but have this sick feeling in his stomach.

“Then to what I owe this late call?” he frowned again pushing further.

“Oh is it that late? I am sorry, here is day time I absolutely forgot the time zones; I hope I did not wake you up brother.” There was again and he just wished he could end that conversation.

“You did not. How is father?”

“Oh he is well, he is well…” a pause.Sean felt the avoidance in his brother's voice but he did not even tried to push further.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked.

“One more thing; Take care of the one.” And with that the conversation ended, leaving Sean with the phone tone beeping in his ear.


What did he mean ‘take care of the one’? The words rang in his head while his eyes stared at his phone.





=============================================================




Well that was unexpected. And straight to the point. And she’ll be dammed if she knew how to approach it. Her hands suddenly became sweaty, feeling the sudden need to brush them on the covered bed. “How exactly ‘done more than a kiss’ you did?” Clarise didn’t mean to sound too disturbed by that but she had a feeling that the whole subject turned towards her sister; the person that she idolized more than anything in the world. “Never mind, don’t answer me.” That was totally uncalled for as her body got up from the bed almost too sudden. There had been reasons why she never asked her sister ‘things’. Clarise was too naïve, and again unstable, to even mention the little feelings she had whenever she smelled or sensed something which was knew for her. Eventually she would know, as it happened now, that certain occurrences would come in her way where she had to openly start that freaking embarrassing conversation. There were times when she would imagine how it would go, how it would feel, what would be told to her, but she never expected her sister to be more experienced in this than her. “This is so weird.” She made a sick face. “I feel so…virgin…and old for this.” a sense of jealousy ran through her at the thought.

There were few minutes of silence and between her glances at Cathaine and the way she smelled, Clarise knew it was disturbing for her sister. Before she knew and before she was even able to stop her body from acting, Clarise found herself on top of Cathaine. “Um...” the blood rose towards her face, coloring her cheeks in a visible red line. “Can I do something?” her voice sounded strangled, may it be from the embarrassment of the position they were currently having, or from the burning her body was sporting, but in the end she managed to push back everything, giving space for bravery as she waited patiently for an answer. When it came, silent and shy, Clarise gave an innocent lick on her dry lips before leaning in for a small kiss.

The whole reason was to distinguish the feelings between the previous make out seasons she unwillingly had with that woman and the small kiss she shared with her sister. It had been far from what Angelina did to her but still it felt good; the warmth of another person, the sensation of soft skin against hers; they were feelings she never felt before. There had been times where Cathaine would sneak behind her back and kiss her neck, giving her shivers, before she would disappear for hours, leaving Clarise alone when she would…experience ‘things’. At that the red line got darker as she shut her eyes tight, sensing how her control was crumbling each second. Pulling back, she took few deep breaths before opening her eyes to see the red face of her sister.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” This was her default knee-jerk reaction that had been perfected over the years: cocky grin with a heavy dose of sarcasm and smartassness – patent pending. It was tried and true, and often times unwelcomed, but somehow whenever she felt out of place or backed into a corner it always seemed to work.
She didn’t see it coming though, and that didn’t bode well with the Grimm part within her that always took pride in anticipating a situation from every possible angle. But, to her credit, she took it all in stride – if she did say so herself. The last thing somebody so fragile and vulnerable needed was to be put on the spot. So she smiled up at her, let it leer into a lopsided grin, and slowly placed her hands over her sisters hips; grounding her in place and reassuring her silently that this was not something for her to freak out about.

“Look,” she finally said after she noticed that perhaps all of Clarises’ blood probably drained from her face. “I kept it from you for two different reasons. One, “ she rose a solitary finger “ – I didn’t want to give you yet another reason to worry yourself over. And two ,” another finger rose against its companion “- they never meant nothing. “ she sighed at the frown she got in return, letting her hand drop with a soft thump against the mattress while her eyes drifted absentmindedly towards the ceiling “Yes … ‘they’.” She said with a breath, and she felt Clary stiffen above her “ Relax. “ she coaxed, using the hand that was still resting on her hip to rub small circles reassuringly “Sex just never was a milestone for me Clare …” she smiled, and tried not to focus too much on the frown “I never got hung up on it. I never cared. It’s a means to an end and … to be honest, I don’t think I remember a time when I felt anything for anyone I took to bed.” She said, worrying her lower lip for a second before continuing “I’m not ashamed of it, nor haunted by it. It doesn’t keep me up at night- of that’s what you are worried about. It just … worked for me. Now, “ she smiled a bit more cockily “I’m not saying that this approach works for everyone, it just did for me. And … dumbass, you really shouldn’t let your lack of experience make you feel insecure in any fucking way.” She added, lightly smacking the side of her sister’s thigh with a chuckle.

There were times like this when Clarise was happy having her sister beat some sense into her. Someone as strong as Cathaine was the perfect match to her weak mind, being always aware when she would lose herself. Grateful for the determination Cath showed, Clare felt relieved, confidence rising back into her as she watched her sister’s grin. What she heard few minutes ago was washed away slowly when the explanation followed closely. In a way she understood her sister’s seclusion, but as Cath said, it worked only for her; for Clarise, on the other hand, didn’t.


As her eyes were staring at her sister, something inside her grew stronger and knowing that Cathaine would feel it, she just jumped off her after giving a thankful hug. “I need to take a shower now.” She laughed loudly as she marched towards the bathroom with the skin of a lobster. God damn women and their soft skin.


The following morning, Clarise woke up more tired than when she went to sleep. The fact that Cath choose to have the alarm ring at freaking five in the morning had a major guild in it.


“Seriously Cath, why?” her hand blindly looked for her clothes as she barely kept balance on her feet.





======================================================






“Is he up for something?” Nick asked taking a seat at his desk as soon as Sean mentioned the call.

“He might.” Was the slow reply.

“Something wrong?” Nick pushed knowing something bothered his partner that morning.

“No, was just thinking about the case. I think my brother has something to do with it.” He gave a look at Nick before standing from his chair. “I’m going to give some calls and see if I can find out anything.”

“Ok then I will go and see if anything good added to the case.”

Sean was edgy. His brother mentioned something about the one. Who was the one? His fingers smoothly dialed a number before bringing the device to his ear.

“It’s me. Find out about my brothers plans and if he mentions anything about who “The One” is call me right away.” Was all he said before ending the conversation with a ‘take care’.

Lately things were turning out really frustrating, not to mention he was confused. Sean was experience too many new emotions and he almost, almost had this push to call his mom for an advice. Unconsciously, he let a smirk out thinking how his mom would react at such a pitiful question.

“Sir, we got another death.” That erased all the thoughts as he turned around asking for more information.

“Time for some fun.” Nick came up as soon as he spotted Sean. “Anything?”

“Not yet, but I will soon have.” He said before getting in the car and driving straight to the crime place.

Two more weeks pass before another body is delivered to the police. This time quite literally on their doorstep;  he is even courteous enough to wrap her up in a bright red bow – it shimmers against the backdrop of the bleak New York morning when its inevitably found by the morning shift. She had been fifteen and addicted to crack, the coroner report said. What it didn’t mention, however, was that she was declared missing five months prior by her grieving parents; that her eyes were sky blue and that her hair was auburn bright, that she smiled in the picture that declared her missing, and that her highschool still held her desk empty with a black scarf tied to her chair.

This one unlike the rest had been young, loved, and missed. And yet, like all the rest she had been broken, alone, and completely immersed into the background of society; and Cath allows herself to wonder for a brief moment how cold and loud this city could be, that the screams of a frightened fifteen year old could simply get muffled beneath it. Her thoughts refocus rapidly after that, determined to keep herself as detached as possible even though the possibility of finding and ending this monster seemed more appealing than one would deem healthy.

This time he wanted to send a message. She knew this even before she got a look at the body. This wasn’t any regular feeding, she was special. A gift, or perhaps a taunt. “Cath me” it said “I am getting more dangerous.”  She frowned into the spread out file; her eyes flashing over the crime scene photos and unwillingly lingering against the marks on the body. Just like the rest, her heart was missing, her blood nearly drained. But unlike the rest, this was all done post death – the actual method of killing had been strangulation.

“Mercy kill.” She murmured to herself, while her brows knit together in concentration, because this is the only explanation for it. The claw and teeth marks are the same, the blood drained through her wrist like the rest – details that have not been released to the press – and yet he killed her with a simple pink  nylon rope that was left wrapped around her neck for the police to find.

This wasn’t just a dare for the cops. No, he wanted her dead before he fed. He wanted her to go painlessly. This was him showing mercy, and begging to be caught.

“Fuck.” She sighed, absentmindedly reaching for the phone that sparked to life besides her. This had been a habit in careful development for the past two weeks. They would text, share information, toss around ideas, and sometimes – in the early hours of the morning when they both perhaps felt their eyes heavy and dropping over their respective files – they would just talk for the hell of it, just to keep each other awake and ire themselves on until she’d finally collapse over the glossy photos and the Xeroxed reports.

[ She was only 15.] it was all that it said. Accurate, to the point, and entirely unlike him. And a part of her knew, almost instantly, that he was hurting over this just as much as she was.

[She was.] she sent back, unable to intelligibly word the sense of self-loathing and disappointment that loomed over her at her own inability to solve this faster. If she would have been stronger, faster, smarter … than maybe this kid wouldn’t have –

[Don’t do that.] the next text said, and she smiled silently at the screen

[Do what?]

[Please. You are talking to a first class selfloather. I know the signs.]

[I’ve never taken this long to solve a case, Wade.] it was the truth, and the petulant part of her wanted to stop her foot and cross her arms over her chest at her own wounded pride.

[Me either. But mine more often than not end more bloody, than with jail.]

[Yeah … mine too.] the was a long pause before the next text buzzed in her phone, and when she read it it settled her.

[Don’t worry, we’ll get the bastard.] she didn’t know why, but she believed him.

The sound of flipping files was the only distinguished sound from the simple, yet comfortable cafeteria the girls decided to drink their morning coffee. Focusing less on the paper but more around the people inside, she couldn’t help but be surprised, as well as confused at the view. An old granny was sipping her typical black tea, with a half spoon of sugar and two drops of milk she prior mixed. The wrinkles on her face showed that she was in her late 70’s, and the manually knitted sweater was neater and perfectly sewed than the ones she had seen in shops. Probably years of practice, and a lot of free time finally showed their results. Despite the fact that she was alone, the little old lady was content, and, from the shape of her visible age lines, lived a comfortable and happy life. Her fingers played quietly with the golden ring tightly placed on her right finger while her eyes read the first page of the newspaper. Clarisse brushed away the need to read more into the ladies feelings, suddenly realizing that maybe she was invading too much her life. However, they both new who was who; of course, trust an old lady to know who she is dealing with and when. When the gentle smile came from across the room, never mind that no eye contact was made, Clarisse knew that the granny was grateful that she had not invaded her feelings, instead a smile stretched over her own lips, while her eyes shifted their direction.



One table further there was another lone person, this time a man probably in his early 40’s. Neat and clean he was conversing happily on the phone with, reading from his lips, his daughter. He mentioned something about a surprise he will make when he will come and see her again. The bright smile and happy face was a sign that his little baby was over excited. He was divorced, his hands showed signs of hard work and a great change he made within himself. Clarisse allowed herself to send just a slightly bit of her sense and found out seconds later that he was hopeful. Somehow she felt sorry for him, yet joice him in his hope of regaining his family back. His wessen side hit her and when their eyes locked he became serious and feared. Clarisse felt a short sting of shame and she gave all her best to give him a smile while the man just raised an eyebrow and then her blue eyes broke the contact.


She knew there was no chance of hiding who she was. She also realized that they were surrounded by wessen, but she wasn’t afraid. She just felt misplaced. As if she had invaded their lives. Her ancestors were feared by wessen, and probably they had a reason, but seeing how many years in front, humans and wessen learned how to cope together, or more, they learned how to blend themselves between ordinary people was a sign of strength. Compromising their culture, rituals, was a clear sign of wanting to live in peace with other. Never mind that, probably half of the wessen, were selfish enough to refuse to let their history be buried under the feet of human kind.



There was a deep breath before she leaned above the files, with a somehow cleared mind than before.
The last murder was, according to Cath, done post-mortem. There was a catch between the murders than she had missed the other times. There had to be something where they could realize the time and location of the next one. Something common. Some link of sorts.


Her hand began to scribble notes on the blank paper next to the files.



Crowded places.

Dark places.

There had been 4 women and 3 men. Younger than 30’s.

Solitary, sad, lonely, pure.

Michael Williams, age 27. Murdered next to a night club. Crowded. 25th august.

Joey Miller, age 23. Murdered between 22nd and 23rd street, Madison square park. Concert. Crowded. 3rd October.

Maria-Clara Garcia, age 23. Murdered 2 streets away from the Observatory. Meteor shower. Crowded. 20th September.

Susan Robison, age 25. Murdered on an alley behind the Grand theater. Crowded. 7th September.

Ben Taylor, age 28. Her eyes glanced at the pictures. She had seen this one. Murdered on 21st and 2nd street. Parade. Crowded. 16th October.

Alicia Roberts, age 23. She didn’t remember being at this one and her eyebrows pulled closer. Murdered on 47th street. Concert. Crowded. 29th October.


And then there was the last one. Fragile, young, didn’t have a chance to see herself graduating high-school. Her name was Clary Peterson. Like most of the other young ones she had tasted the wondesr of drugs. All of them were lonely, yet this one was missed. The other ones had taken paths on their own, being pushed away from families or driven away by drugs.


Clarisse pushed aside the regret of not being able to save this one and began searching for something; anything.
It had almost passed 2 hours when she gasped, frowning at her little notes on which were scribbled the dates.



“Cath…” she whispered showing the piece of paper filled with calculations and numbers. It wrote on a corner, thicker and circled a number. When Cath failed to understand she puffed and moved closer to her.

“I don’t know if it’s this but I calculated and recalculated; the dates and the times between the murders.” She spread the notes over the files. “He started Sunday on 25th of august. That time we were in Iceland when the first ritual of Hexenbiests began.” She took a deep breath. “It was a boy.” She showed the file of Michael. “Then, from that day twenty two days passed before another murder was taken place, and it was a girl.” She showed another file. “He chooses solitary people as we stated before,right?” when the nod came she continued. “But there here is the catch. Every passing 22 days, the day changes. He started Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and so on until last Monday when Clary was murdered.” She watched carefully her sister until the latter locked eyes with her. “Yes! Every twenty two days he strikes, and each place is crowded, or there is some sort of event, where there are a lot of people. We just need to find out what is Sunday on 24th of November.” She smiled at her sister, feeling somehow excited about the theory. It was nothing sure, they both knew but it was something than nothing. “Also, he chose four girls and three guys; he feeds from two girls in a row and then two boys, the last ones were girls, now he will go for a boy.”

Her eyes fell over the spread out sheets while her sister explained her theory, and little by little the subtle pattern began standing out like a sore thumb. Crime and autopsy reports began flashing through her mind, the names of the victims – their age, their occupations – the patterns was nowhere near linked to who they were. But rather what they were. It was a cycle – a twenty-two day feeding cycle. And every twenty-two days it would eat a man and a woman, hunting them down and trapping them like –

“Oh … fuck.” She whispered, jumping from her chair and gripping angrily at her hair. Of course. Of course it wouldn’t be just a wesen. Her hand instinctively reached for the crumpled up map to her side ignoring the scent of anxiety and uneasiness that slowly seeped from the wesen around her while she brought the steady point of a red marker to each street the bodies were found. Line after line traced and tangled them together into an almost indiscernible mess devoid of any logic or reason … unless –

“A web.” She breathed, eyes widening at the entanglement of crimson lines that now scribbled over the map. It was a web. A spider web – tangled and a few dozen blocks wide in which the victims seemed to have in some way ,shape, or form tangled themselves in. The crimes started at its center in pairs – just like Clary theorized – and gradually outstretched farther and farther into its outskirts. He was expanding his territory. And suddenly everything just … clicked.

“It’s a feeding cycle … It’s a spider’s feeding cycle.” She said, eyes wide and erratic at the realization. “It’s not just a wesen.” She added as an afterthought “It’s … it’s more.” She said, looking from her sisters widening eyes back to the map while the implication of this truth finally sunk in. They protected, they thought, they kept the balance against all odds. But their world and the mutant world never collided – there hardly ever was a possibility for it too – the wesen would sniff out and avoid potential threats. Their scents never mixed, they never interacted. But this? This had smelled off from the moment they approached the first body – a mingle of artificial brewed into supernatural. This was new, dangerous, and entirely out of their league.

“Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger eu memes “ (We protect those who cannot protect themselves) she murmured her families Code of Honor darkly under her breath, reminding herself that this was what they were indeed here to do – protect those who could not protect themselves . “We’ll need help.” She said with finality, locking her eyes with her sister.

At those words Clarisse almost choked. “We need help… and you mean by help” there was a pause between her words and her eyes almost gave a roll. “Oh no.” followed by a shake of her head. “You can’t seriously believe…?” she eyed her sister suspiciously and when those blue oceans stared back she snapped. “You got to be kidding me Cath!” a pair of hands shot equally in the air before she turned he body around. “He is horrible and smells funny and…did you even see what he is wearing?” her feet paced angrily around the room, almost engraving each step into the floor. “I can’t stand him and…and what’s with you and that phone lately?” her body swiftly turned with both hands placed forcefully over her hips that if you had looked at the scene from another point of view, she almost resembled an exasperate mother whose daughter had lost her virginity to the worst man on earth.


Few hours later Clarisse found herself in the car, with the biggest pout on her face, next to a very amused sister.


“I will never forgive you.” She mumbled into the palm of her hand as she shot balls of fire at every turn that got them closer to the meeting spot.




================================




When the desk vibrated strongly against the wooden desk Sean’s eyes snapped around for any sign of eavesdropping before he grabbed a small silver key. The text only said “No news. I’ll keep my ears opened.” That almost had Sean curse loudly. It had passed more than two weeks and he had nothing about ‘The one’ which again frustrated him more than anything. After a moment Sean dialed a unknown number. The beep didn’t reach its end when a woman’s voice answered.


“Yes?”

“I need to know about The one.” Was the only greeting the other person was met with before a sharp breath was taken.

“Thereis nothing to know about.” She growled low in the phone.

“My brother mentioned it.”

“It’s just a legend, he must want to have your mind play tricks, my son.” The voice was mellow, Sean almost visualizing his mother’s face.

“I know when he plays and when he doesn’t and this time he wasn’t mother.” He could hear his mother woge through the other line.

“You will not know about anything!” at that Sean’s eyes grew wider. “It is not safe for neither of you.” And with that the line went dead leaving him with another series of questions unanswered.


He placed his phone silently into its safe place before closing it. Not only his brother new about it but also his mother refused to give any information about it. Two hands closed their gap over the desk as he almost frowned at the previous scene.



What was the connection between him and The one?

Strictly speaking, humans are generally very weak. They break fast , they scrape even faster; and at the end of the day, given the right amount of determination, you can break them bad enough that they’ll never get mended again.
[All of the kings’ horses and all of the kings’ men ~] his white box singsongs, a sympathetic companion to his own lamentations. Because this is where him and the rest of the world were fundamentally different. He always got put back together again – no matter how broken, as long as there was an ounce of him left scrapped on the ground, he’s get to be hole again.

{Well … in a matter of speaking, anyway.}the little yellow box felt like adding.

[ Because, sunshine, no matter how much you’d like to humpty your dumpty, at the end of the day we’ll always get put back together a little bit more broken than the rest of the world.]

{And we’re not even talking about the emotional crap baggage you usually bring to the table, Wade.} This was a rare night, he absentmindedly thought to himself while repositioning the sniper rifle to a more manageable angle – tonight the boxes were agreeing. Not like he could exactly disagree with them anyway; even as far gone as he was, on some level even Deadpool was aware of the fact that his little voices were just twisted little echoes of his own broken psyche.

{Heh. Broken psyche.} the black font on yellow looked bulky and childish – a play on a pun, and Wade couldn’t help but smirk sadistically at it ; even in the middle of job, even in the middle of the darkness that these missions weighed on his shoulders, the yellow little shit always found ‘the funny’.

[Haven’t we been postponing the obvious for a while now?] Huh? Had he? Oh … right. The mission. The target. His little respire of miscellaneous distraction from the abysmal shitpile that was waiting for him back in New York. He wasn’t anyone noteworthy – he’d remembered that much. Just a bland name with a blank face and no memorable datum to his name other than the fact that he pissed off the wrong people that had the right connections. The guy looked almost harmless; a little portly, a little slow. A soccer dad with a receding hairline and a faded gray suit – but orders were orders.

A deep breath is all that takes for the pressure on the trigger to weigh heavier, for the world to halt in a black and white slow motion montage – and the only thing in living color is the round man who’s head just crossed his cross marker. When he exhales the world around him jumpstarts to life; the sound of wind, of traffic, of screams – and the little fat man is lying face first in a pool of his own blood.

He packed up fast after that. A mechanic routine that had been imbedded in him after decades of repetition. All the pieces get placed in the right order, the same order; from big, to small, to downright minute, until the last thing that needs to be put away is his memory of this job. Simple job. Easily forgettable.

[Well, not entirely.]

{We really shouldn’t focus on that though. I vote for immediate black out rendition of that detail.}

[Vetoed.] Ah, that’s more like it, Wade thought as he took to the rooftops – carrying the arsenal of his trade on his back in a threadbare Jansport that probably had seen better days – the boxes were fighting. All was right in the world.

That’s right, everything was right in the world. Everything except the baby seat in the fat guy’s minivan. Everything was fine in the world except for the fact that he just left a kid orphaned.
Yeah. Everything was fucking fine.

Two rooftops later, and a fading siren in the background, his phone chimed to life with a sickeningly sweet ringtone that he specifically set for a very specific number. It almost made him trip mid step over thin fucking air when he’d first heard it, and a blur of motion later he finds himself eyeballing the screen of a battered old Nokia with a goofy smile over his lips. It didn’t say much, or anything in particular – but the simplicity in it held such a raw power that five rereads later it still somehow managed to knock the wind right out of him.

“I need you.” It said followed a minute later by “Call me when you’re safe.” and Wades’ grip on the brick of a phone tightened involuntarily. They haven’t talked in days, but the very idea that somewhere out there was somebody that knew just how dangerous his life was and accepted him for who he was, was a bit of a surreal insight. The realization that he hadn’t felt utterly alone in weeks hit him like a ton of bricks, and – minor freak out aside – he admits (quietly, so quietly that not even the boxes give it any mind) that he owed it all to the quirky chick with the cocky smile and kind eyes that always carried herself like she had an edge to her. The girl that somehow hammered though his every defense through dumb one liners and quiet reassurance.

[And she did it all via text.]

{That’s his she sneaked in didn’t she ?}

[You never expect yourself to start opening up to somebody via text messaging.]

{Technology really is the devil.}

He frowned then, in a weak ass attempt at shutting them out and finding some focus log enough to think of a reply that wouldn’t make him come out like an eager little dog with a happy little tail. And at the end of his ten minute brainstorm he settles on a cool “Will be in NY on wednesday meet you at the Bay.” The reply is lightning fast, and almost dizzying in its straightforwardness.

“Cool. Hope you’ve been staying safe kiddo.” The punctuation alone gave him whiplash, and in the background somewhere the boxes must have been gibing at his misery.

“You know me.” He chooses on sending then, relishing in the small amount of cockiness is relays and choosing to ignore the sudden burst of embarking anxiety is leaves behind.

[Fucking hell. We aren’t a teenager anymore, Wade.]

{Telling him to get it together when he basically fell in love over text would be a bit redundant at his point. Me thinks.}

[Uh.]

Wade though? He didn’t care. Because Wade received an “Yeah I know you.” With a little smiley face at the end.

He was so screwed.



Three days, and god knows how many hidden smiles behind faux coughs at the random texts she got, later and they found themselves in the shadow of a cruddy little building down by the docks. The structure in itself looked eaten and rotten away by saltwater – and she wondered absentmindedly if parking next to something that looked more suited on a horror set was the wisest of choices. Just the place for a wesen to hide, for a random attack, for a casual kill. But no, the air didn’t smell wrong here. Just rot and salt – and, distantly, the bitter smell of distain coming off the crotchety old security guard that passed by earlier on is rounds.

Senile old thing, didn’t even notice the parked mustang in the shadows when he passed it by. It’s not like they were trying to stay hidden either; because in this line of work there always comes a point in which the phrase ‘Fuck it.’ starts making a more frequent appearance than you’d initially care to admit too. Or maybe he did see them, and was old and wise enough in his work to know not to poke his nose in nefarious dealings.

Did they look nefarious? Was this a dealing?

The wispy little breeze that whistles over her windscreen jolts her thoughts back on track- focus striking sharply through her senses while the air subtly began to change scent. A barely-there sharp smell, a combination of mahogany and blood wrapped around a dark undertone of insanity – Deadpool was close.

She sighed, side-eyeing her sister who’s nostrils flares slightly at the oncoming scent. At least she wasn’t the weird one for recognizing him by scent.

She opened the door with what she aimed to be detached nonchalance, but more than likely came off as barely contained eagerness, and stepped out of her car – quietly followed by Clary who thankfully didn’t comment any.
It was a miserable night, cold and windy and perhaps just the right amount of uninviting that made the right amount of sense for a rendezvous such as this. And in the midst of a sputter of wind the red of his costume blurred from a rooftop and landed in a crouched position right in front of them. He straightened, and even in the dark and hidden behind a mask the ghosts of a cocky little smile still stood out to her when he asked :

“Missed me, gorgeous?”

“I’ll remember to fix my scope next time. “

Before she knew her eyes gave a long roll. “Oh please.” A fold of arms was then followed as she watched the two. There was aversion she had for him and if it wasn’t for her sister, which Clarisse trusted her intuition more than her own, then she would have blown that smug attitude of his from the first moment she met him. At that her nose scrunched in disgust because she had done it only to be regenerated and back to its own self again.


“Ugh.” She mumbled at something he said towards her sister. Fidgety and itchy, her feet took few steps back from them. “If I’m not disturbing this lovely reunion I would like to get this done by the time I start getting sick.” She eyed Cathaine before turning her back at them, trying hard to keep down her rage.


Once in a while a crackling sound here and there, showing the complete emptiness that surrounded them. The building almost collapsed on them and Clarisse wondered if her sister had any sort of sick fetishes for empty, rotten and weird places. She didn’t even realize that she had stepped outside the building as she watched the far lights on the other side of the river. That night would be long, if not for the two people inside, but for her. Clarisse could barely focus on their conversation as she advanced on the docks, the light reflected in the small constant waves almost luring her away.

She stopped right at the edge of the dock, sniffing in the salty air. ‘Sean Renard.’ She whispered the name.



***



The night seemed quiet. That’s what Nick thought as he sat himself at his desk. There were no files at that alone let him relax for the first time that day.


“Though day today.” Came a reply from sergeant Wu which happened to pass by with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Here.”

“Thank you. Yeah, though day. It’s as if the hell unleashed over us.” Nick replied stretching a hand for the coffee. “Sunday is going to be again a tough day.” he sighed before taking a mouthful of coffee.

“Heard about that. Had no clue the mayor would do such a thing for those poor people.”

“Me either. Even though there is something behind it. Elections are coming soon so if not them then no one would vote for him.” Nick smirked at the tough of having someone like him for a mayor. “The auction for his personal paintings was a smart move. At least those kids will have a new home and some earnings to get them a new life.”

“Yeah, let’s see if he keeps the promise.” Wu threw a knowing look which made Nick laugh.

“He will. We will make sure of it.” Nick smiled at Wu, who made a leave before his partner came to join them.

“I will be going for the weekend.” Sean started, grabbing couple of files from his desk. “Will be back Monday morning.” He said as he looked at Nick. “How are you?”

“Fine I guess. Well worse now that I know you will be leaving me alone for the auction on Sunday.” He placed his hands on the desk, straightening his back. “Why?”

Sean didn’t even look at him at that question instead he grabbed his phone from the desk, tucking it inside his inner jacket.

“Personal problems. Nothing important.” He gave a quick smile. “I’m sure you will manage without me Nick.” Before he made a leave he turned, frowning. He knew he should have at least mentioned something to him, instead he decided to keep it for himself until he was sure with what they were dealing. “Take care.” And with that he was gone leaving Nick frowning.

“Well, she seems like she’s warming up to me.” he is the first to break the small awkward silence that fell over them as soon as Clary made her dramatic exit; and as always he makes the executive decision to dive head first right into the middle of the problem and hammer at it until it stops them from being … them?

The realization that he should, by no rights, have yet ant grasp or understanding of what exactly “they” were like around one another normally hits him like a ton of bricks; and the sound of a half chocked half surprised chuckle that erupts out of Cath besides him is perhaps the most anchoring thing he’d ever experienced

“Oh yeah.” Cath snorted – and for a moment he considered that even she wasn’t expecting it. “You two will be braiding each other’s hair and singing kumbaya in no time.” She added, the small tug at her lips threatening to bloom into a grin.

“So, you said you needed a knight in shining armor ?” he singsongs on the very tips of his feet, and the amused roll of a pair of blues and a playful scoff is the reassurance he gets that everything is still relatively normal between them – well, as normal as a cancer ridden genetic freak, and … whatever the hell Cath was, could be.

“We figured something out.” She says, snapping him right out of his musings – and just like that she has his whole attention.

It almost passed an hour since their; well Cath’s reunion with the little freak, and from what Clarisse saw, things gone well. He came out waving towards her before vanishing in the shadows leaving no scent behind. Cath seemed relaxed in his company and that alone made Clarisse flare.

“What’s the deal with him?” she greeted her sister while showing towards the spot from where the creeper vanished. “And is he going to help us in any way?” an eyebrow quirked when Cath nodded.

Clary sighed, wondering just what was it that Cath saw in him. Both girls entered the car failing to notice the two bright eyes that stared at them from far away.




=======================




“The prince had ordered you to deliver him someone and you have failed.” A silky voice came from the brand new BMW.

“The deal would be done when he will pay me, until then he will get nothing.” Angelina replied placing both her hands on her.

“Tough woman…” there was a pause followed shortly after by a sick laugh. “Here.” A hand was pushed out through a small opening of the black window holding a puffy envelope. “A quarter to motivate you. The whole rest you will have it when I hear the good news.”

The red head frowned yet reached to grab the envelope. The car drove away silently, leaving the woman eye the small envelope. There was a sigh before she turned around heading for her black Harley. There was a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach at the deal she made. Her fingers traced softly over the patterns of a brilliant red flaming veins, frowning deeply. ‘What have I gotten myself into’ she sighed as her fingers flicked to life her baby. The sound made her thoughts fade as she eventually shrugged off the feeling completely. As soon as the wind hit her nostrils, adrenaline coursed through her veins, giving a flashy grin at the feeling, before she hit the road at full speed.


It was night almost by the time she reached the docks, sniffing quietly the air for that dazing, yet sweetly sick scent. Angelina knew better to keep her scent hidden away and stay as far possible from the two petite girls. The smirked she plastered on her features soon faded away as another, unfamiliar scent hit her. It was manly, bloody and something mixed with excitement, yet she couldn’t quite tell from that distance. Her golden eyes squinted, brightening ever so slightly as she cleared her night vision. The said man came with a halt over the roof where the two girls previously entered only to disappear inside. Her head snapped back, allowing a deep frown to settle between her eyebrows.

“Well that complicates things.” She murmured in the night, waiting patiently. It hadn’t passed five minutes when her head snapped back at the almost crumbling building only to see a small figure emerging from it. A small smile slipped at the sight. The first time she felt her, something snapped inside, forcing her to enter the state of possessiveness that she never thought would feel for a man, let alone a woman. Angelina didn’t even know she had been into women until her eyes landed on her the very night her claws had left that ugly scar on the girl’s chest. She was drawn to her, both mentally and physically. The feeling was back ten times heavier, as she remembered the deal she had made. God she had been stupid not to ask who the person she had to bring was.


Brushing it off to the pits of her mind and locking there she prepare her assault when the other two came out, forcing her body to a halt as she ducked back behind the pallets. Within minutes the same spot they had been sitting was now empty earning a low growl from Angelina.



=====================================



Romania, Soroca.



The murmur around him almost made Sean’s eyebrow twitch in annoyance, yet he kept his posture high and dominant as he paced on the road towards the flamboyant castle. Kids and women watched closely the man, taking in the tall, very well structured body. Men on the other hand, narrowed their eyes, jealousy clearly swirling into their poles as their predatory eyes never once leaving the man. He could easily tell by the looks of them that if he would by any chance locked eyes with one of them, well war would unleash over. So instead he kept on staring ahead, mentally wondering how he would be welcomed.


“Regina mea…” there was a knock at the door, the servant waiting patiently before there was a muffled ‘yes’ from the room, allowing him to open carefully the door and stepping in silently.

“Este cineva care ar vrea sa-” he was cut off by the sudden wave of his queen’s hand, knowing very well than to continue. He quickly left the room silently.

There was a heavy sigh before the lady turned from the window and allowed her body to settle on the comfortable chair near it, as she patiently waited her son.

Sean could say he was not enthralled to meet his mother after the brief call they shared not too long ago, but he knew that there was a faint thread of happiness somewhere deep within both of them. The servant noted the grave features the much taller man had and could help but feel fearful for his queen. Little did he know who the man was and what relationship the two shared. As they reached the end of the long corridor, the servant motioned for the man towards the door and with a bow he left.

Sean didn’t bother to knock as he pushed open the door and emerged inside taking in the simple, yet large room. The black wooden desk held a shiny crystal globe, a green emerald mortar and pestle and the large, thick leather book he knew too well. Behind there was a ceiling high shelf filled with vials of any shape, containing strange looking liquids, herbs and who knows what else.

“Romanians may think they have a witch between them and might burn you alive, mother.” He stated, amusement shown as he settled his hands deep in his pockets taking in more of his mother’s room.

There was a slight chuckle from the woman as she stared outside the window. “You’d be surprised.”

“I suppose not anyone enters your chamber.” He smiled, stepping towards another high ceiling shelf, filled with books this time. He couldn’t read the title due to the different language.

“No.” she turned finally taking in her son. He had become quite the man and she couldn’t help herself from giving a warm smile towards the man. “Those are in gypsy language.” She stated walking delicately towards Sean. She noted that he was much taller than her and she couldn’t brush off the strange feeling of sadness at the thought of not being there and see him growing up. She stopped next to him brushing pale short fingers over the old covers. His eyes feel over his mother, taking in her delicate features. The white hair fell down in a thick braid just under her bottom, while two thin golden chains curled around it giving the perfect accessory. Wrinkles were starting to form around her brown eyes, her mouth and her forehead, yet she looked as if she was in her early thirties. Her body was thin and weak; he could tell by the way she moved, always leaning against a mahogany walking stick, embed with blue sapphires, as her long blue and white dress covered her delicate body and the imperfections due to her age. She was a proud and strong woman of 122 years old and the most powerful Hexenbiest he had ever known. “You look fantastic mother.” He said slowly and he meant it. And apparently she knew that as she rose on her tip toes to give her son a small beck on his cheek. “I missed you Sean.” She smiled, truly smiled as she tugged him towards her seat, motioning for him to take the other chair across her.


There was a soft knock at the door as the servant from before entered with a steamy tray of tea. He eyed the man suspiciously before taking in the content face of his queen, allowing himself to relax as he placed the tray down on the small table between them. He turned towards his queen. “Mai doriti si altceva?” he talked in Romanian and Sean couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows slightly.

When the negative shake came from the queen the servant bowed and excused himself, leaving the room.

“Is he the only one entering your room?” Sean inquired, curious about whom the young boy was. When the nod came, he couldn’t help but glance at the door.

Knowing her son too well, she sighed leaning over the tray to grab the two cups. “He is a Zauberbiest that I saved from Slovenia.” Esmeralda smiled as she poured the steamy black tea equally in the two porcelain cups. “As you very well know I do not approve of what is happening there.” Her lips closed in a thin line, making the wrinkled even more visible. “There is wrong and right in every clan, but I do not have the power to stop what is written in The Book.” She grabbed the small silver tongues to add a cube of sugar into her tea. “You want?” she asked Sean whom shook his head, eyes glued on his mother. “Milk?” she smiled.

“Just a drop.” Sean replied leaning in the chair. Esmeralda nodded and let a drop falling in the tea, whitening the black liquid instantly.

“Mother…” he started but failed to finish his statement when her eyes locked with his. “Sean, my son.” She paused glancing out the window for few seconds before sighing. “I know why you came here.” She smiled, seeing how his muscles tensed.

“You will find out.” She took a sip of her tea, savoring the taste with closed eyes. “But are you ready to face it after you had found out the truth?” she eyed him closely, catching the frown.

Sean on the other side was confused. Was the so much more to know than he already knew? Was it that bad? He heard a soft chuckle from his mother as he was snapped back from his thoughts.

“As always, I am overreacting.” She placed her tea down. “How long will you stay?” she asked smiling at her son.

“Depends on how much there is to know.” A hint of amusement was in his voice and perhaps his mother sensed it too because she soft chuckle from before turned into a high laugh, but delicate and deemed for a Queen.

As soon as she settled more comfortable in her chair her eyes landed on the vast view from the outside, taking in the black clouds forming fast for the upcoming storm. The sun was barely visible, yet from time to time a ray would hit the ground, turning to life whatever it would hit.


“A very long time ago, even before ancient times, Wessen had ruled the earth. We ruled the humans as their gods, yet we still hid ourselves under the appearance of a human. For a short time we thought it was only us on this earth but then another kind came, or appeared out of nowhere more exactly.” She smiled, her eyes lost in the memories as if it was yesterday. “They were calling themselves Grimm, or protectors of humans. They had the power to make us uneasy and see right through us for what we really were. For some time we thought them enemies, a race who slaughtered without second thought, with physical strength and agility beyond imagination. Of course they were not as powerful as we were but they were wise and planned carefully, observing our weaknesses closely, taking that as an advantage in battles.” Another pause as she sipped her warm tea. “This battle has been going on for a very long time, until another race appeared. You might know them as Royals.” She chuckled at the look on Sean’s face. He almost mouth dropped at the newly received information and he couldn’t help having this uneasy feeling in his stomach.


“The first offspring of a human and a wessen was what we call now Royals. They cannot woge, and they are not powerful as us. Basically they are the same as humans only with more power since they know what a wessen is. Over the years they grew stronger and took in the bad wessen, forming what it is now; a good part for humans; the bad part for us.” Her face grew sad at this and Sean could tell his mother would soon be crying. “Your father and I had a small affair and you were the offspring. I was not strong enough to let you live within the castle and so I ran away.” She managed to give a small smile.
“In the end they found us and forced me to give you away, implying that you had royal blood and you belonged between them. I knew they had power and no matter what I will do, they will have you eventually, so I gave in and left you with them.” A single tear dropped in her hands, the smile never leaving her face. It was painful to see his mother in this stage, but now that he knew the truth he changed his feelings towards her. He reached one hand and wrapped around hers, giving a reassuring squeeze. At that Esmeralda’s smile grew as well as her tears. “I had to tell you this even though they made me swear not to say a word, and you know that a promise from us is the ultimate pact.” He nodded a thank you before they let go, each of the sinking into their own thoughts.

“What made us go hiding from humans?” Sean broke the silence eventually.

“The royals. Because they saw we are more powerful than them they threaten to let the whole world know who we really are; monsters. A humans mind will change when they face something they cannot explain and they can become the deadliest enemies. So we chose to hide from them so our kind will not go extinct. As the royals went up they took the Grimm’s as their strongest weapon. But that was for a short time before the Grimm would realize that the purpose they were made for was slowly crumbling under the leadership of The Royals. Grimm are not attacking innocent wessen, who only wants to live peacefully with others, but attacks the ones that are not accepting to live by these rules. “ his mind instantly flashed towards a small girl with blue eyes.


“Now there are very few Grimm around the whole world and I can count them on my right hand.” She laughed, waving a hand in front of her. “The royals are growing in power.” She paused glancing out the window as rain poured heavily. “And they are using us to grow powerless human children with royal blood.” She growled low, for a brief second almost woging in front of her son, before calming down her temper. “I will tell you a secret.” She smiled placing a hand on his knee and leaning in.

“Hexenbiests used to be the leaders of wessen. We are the only ones that can regain our powers. But there has to be a sacrifice in order for someone to gain their power back, also the shadows has to accept the offering.” She leaned back in the chair, grabbing the cup of tea and sipping from it. “It’s complicated but not impossible. A royal can become a Hexenbiest as well. Since they have wessen blood, the body and spirit is stronger than human’s and there is a chance the shadows will accept.” Sean was confused but in the same time let the information sink in. Now he saw the world in a new light, but he still didn’t get the information he wanted from her.

“Mother-“ he started when they were disturbed by a knock at the door. Esmeralda answered and front the other side of the door emerged the young servant from before.

“Masa este pregatita, Regina. Sa va aduc mancarea aici?” he asked quietly in a language Sean couldn’t understand before his mother nodded and the servant was gone. “What did he want?” Sean asked.

“If we would like to eat here.” She smiled. “He is one of the experiments they are trying to make in Slovenia.” She smiled looking at the door as if he was still sitting there. “There is no other Hexenbiest in this town I lead, nor any wessen. My people are purely humans.” She smiled. “I plan on making him the next king, because he is strong and still young. He learns fast.” Sean’s eyebrows shot up surprised. “But you are treating him as a servant.”

“Yes, he doesn’t know my plans.” She chuckled softly behind her hand. “But he learn fast and he is the only one entering my room. My people doesn’t know what I am or else they would go crazy, but they respect me a lot.”


At this Sean had to smile. His mother was a very strong woman and he was respecting her dearly and loved her truly. He was very proud. But there was something bugging him, and he yet to have an answer.

“Mother, you know for what I came.” He stated, watching her closely. At that she tensed and he could watch the smile fading away.

“I just want to protect you, as well as everyone.” She said locking her eyes with her sons. “Do you think you can handle it after you will learn the truth about The One?” she held her gaze and for the first time he felt a shiver ran down his spine. There was something wrong and he knew it, yet he wanted- no was curious to find this big secret that even his mother was afraid of letting it out. Without thinking in he nodded. Esmeralda sighed heavily at the stubbornness he showed.


“Very well.” She said and rose from her seat towards the desk to retrieve from a locked drawer a large, yet thin old book. The bindings and patterns were made of silver and there was a small lock over it.

“This book is the book of Grimm.” She said, sitting back in her chair. Around her neck, hidden away from the dress was a silver necklace with a small key. Sean frowned and wondered why she would keep it with her, hidden away from everyone.


“I am the descendant of the most powerful Hexenbiests, Ischande, ever known and the keeper of the Du’Buhuir, Grimms.” She whispered as she unlocked the book. At that Sean’s eyes grew wider.

“Those particular Grimms are the most powerful being in the world Sean, and because we are basically witches and wizards we have the power to bind them down from unleashing their true power.” She glanced at her son only to see him gapping as a little kid that just found out that they are not brought on this world by the stork but from the very womb of their mother.

“As I told you previously, we have no idea from where Grimm appeared, but there had been this particular man that was the worst among the Grimm. His name was Varmeth Du’buhuir. He just appeared, slicing every wessen or person that gave signs of oddness in their eyes. He did not care who was innocent, or who was bad, he just murdered every single one of us. That until one of my ancestors found how to calm down that raging beast.”

She flipped a page to show him a tall handsome man with long silver hair and honey colored eyes, followed by a similar drawing only woged, with gray and a putrid face. “His name was Taeltra Ischande and at that time he ruled every single being on this planet. His queen was a powerful Hexenbiest, and her name was Nalia.” He showed him a beautiful woman with black, shoulder length hair and bright blue eyes. On the other side there was a drawing with a dark gray hair and a face that seemed to be mutilated.


“Nalia had been the one to bind the Grimm to his knees in front of her only by one look.” She smiled tracing a finger over the drawing. “You see Grimm’s are bounding to powerful beings that are beautiful, but what utterly brings them to their knees is our blood.” She flipped another page and Sean could see the Grimm shackled to a pair of even lumbers, standing on a pentagram. “Because of his infatuation with Nalia, he let himself dragged over and they had performed a ritual to lock that rage within him forever. Nalia didn’t want him to be killed because she was attracted to him as well. The power, the features, call them what you want, but we are bonding ourselves to Grimm and vice versa.” She flipped another page and there was a small family on one page and another one the other.


“The Grimm had been banned from that country and was sent to another one as far away as possible from Nalia. Eventually he had made himself a family and had a little girl. Now there is very rarely that during generations the offspring won’t get the powers of a Grimm and that’s why there are not so many among the world. It happened that sometimes the gene is not so strong and it will soon be lost. But one family happened to have twins.” She flipped over the next page and Sean eyed the drawing of two little identical boys. “No one knew that the offspring of a Du’Buhuir has to be only one child. Because of the binding my ancestors did, our blood would only go in one of the children and keep the rage get out, and the other would just turn slowly into a cold blooded killer that would murder anything in their path; be it friend of foe, family or strangers.” She glanced over at Sean who was fighting with himself that maybe, just maybe she was not the one. Esmeralda saw fear in his eyes and she barely found the strength not to close the book and forget everything. She just knew it was too late.

“Are you ok?” she asked placing a hand on his only to have him jump at the touch. He nodded and mumbled an ‘yes’. She sighed and despite her hesitation she moved on.

“Eventually, when the boys hit their twenty-sixth birthday, hell unleashed over that family and The Council had to step in. Because they didn’t want humans to find out, or had any Ischande’s blood to bind the boy again, they decided to burn the one with the sickness, as they were calling it.” The sadness could be shower clearly in his mother’s eyes. “Up until twenty years ago there had not been one incident of this kind; until the night where there had been the massacre of the last Du’buhuir family.” She could remember well that night, the whole wessen community as well as Royals had been hunting down the family for their own personal reasons; the wessen to extinct and save their asses, and the Royals to get the pure one into their family. She threw a glance towards him and took in the lost look over his handsome face. That bastard of his father had tried to make her son meet The One to have the power he was so selfishly craving for. God she had been so stupid to get into his bed that night. Who knows what would have happened now to the whole world. If the Royals would get their hands on a chance like this, it would mean the end of everyone, both humans and wessen alike.

Sean was speechless. Now he understood the needy feeling to be in that Grimm’s presence. The power, those beautiful eyes that he could get lost in them. He just fell for her the minute he set his eyes on the petite girl. His hand brushed over his face desperately. He had to tell his mother. He had to say that there were still alive. It couldn’t be a mistake, they were both Grimm and alike and the one he felt attracted to was the one without the binding.


“Sean?” his mother’s voice brought him back as his eyes snapped at her. “What’s wrong son?” she questioned worried.

“Mother i-“ he paused. He needed her help, didn’t he? “Mother, my brother knows about The One.” She gasped. “How?” her hand was brought to her mouth. “It can’t be no-“

“He knows!” and that’s when his mother saw the fear flicker in his eyes.

“Oh god, no…” she trailed, blood draining from her face. “She is here?” she asked afraid of the answer.
“Not she, them.” He stated.

“Sean don’t tell me…”

“I met her.” And that’s where all her world was shattered into pieces. Her son, an Ischande was bound to a Du’Buhuir. Trying hard to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat she searched her brain for a way to separate the two before it would be too late. “You need to stay way before is too late Sean.” She ordered in a low tone. Esmeralda missed a small part of the story that happened with Nalia after she met the Grimm. Somehow deep inside she knew that there was something fishy as to why would Sean come all the way here for a mere rumor his bastard of a brother would say.