HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP **Author’s Note** Some individuals had been stating that this fanfic is created through the use of AI alone and had reported my account since this fanfic became part of the Top 10.
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Chapter 16: All Bark, No Bite “You said there are other kinds?” Nick caught the important part of Monroe’s explanation.
“So Wesen aren’t all wolf creatures like you?” “Of course not.” Monroe leaned back on the couch as though he were discussing something everyone should already understand.
“There are Reinigen, Bauerschwein, Blutbaden, Skalengecks, and more species than I could list tonight.
You’ve probably arrested a few without realizing it.
Skalengecks especially have a talent for getting into trouble.” Although Monroe tried to sound relaxed, his eyes kept moving between Nick’s face and the P226 resting on the coffee table.
The pistol had clearly prevented him from becoming too comfortable.
“Look, I don’t want trouble,” he continued.
“You’ve seen how I live.
I left the old ways behind years ago, and I don’t lose control.” Nick raised both hands near his ears and curled his fingers into quotation marks.
“You didn’t look very controlled this afternoon when two children rode past you.” Monroe’s expression immediately became defensive.
“That wasn’t because of the children.
I caught the scent of another Blutbad nearby, and my instincts reacted before I could stop them.” “You looked ready to hunt something.” “I have never harmed a human being.” Monroe began counting his virtues on his fingers.
“I eat vegetables every day, order my steaks well-done, practice Pilates, and avoid anything that encourages aggressive behavior.
I’m a completely reformed Blutbad.” “A reformed werewolf who marks his yard.” “That is unrelated.” “You also mentioned separating yourself from traditionalists.” “I don’t associate with the old packs.
I don’t attend their gatherings, follow their customs, or worship at the same church.” Nick stared at him.
“Blutbaden go to church?” “Some of us do.” Monroe gave him a puzzled look.
“Don’t you?” “Not regularly.” Nick had lost most of his interest in organized religion during his previous life.
He had watched too many wealthy preachers exploit desperate people, sell miracles, and use faith as an excuse to collect money.
Since then, he had preferred keeping his spiritual opinions to himself.
Monroe’s religious habits were not the most urgent issue anyway.
The clockmaker appeared to belong to a moderate part of Wesen society.
That did not mean Nick trusted him, but Monroe’s nervous rambling provided information Nick could not obtain anywhere else.
As the conversation continued, Nick combined the explanation with fragments of memory from his former life.
The hidden structure of this world gradually became clearer.
Wesen was a broad German term meaning a being or creature.
It did not refer to a single species.
Blutbaden, Reinigen, Bauerschwein, and Skalengecks were separate bloodlines beneath that larger classification.
Humanity contained countless nations, cultures, and ethnic backgrounds.
Wesen society was even more divided, with every species possessing its own appearance, instincts, customs, and inherited abilities.
They shared one defining trait.
Every Wesen could woge.
The change sometimes happened involuntarily when strong emotion disrupted their concentration.
Fear, anger, excitement, hunger, or surprise could cause their hidden features to surface for a moment.
During that kind of woge, ordinary humans saw little more than a twitch or brief change in expression.
Grimms and other Wesen could perceive the true face beneath the human appearance.
A Wesen could also transform deliberately.
When the change became fully physical, normal people could see it as well.
The Wesen then gained greater access to the natural advantages of its species, whether those involved strength, claws, teeth, enhanced senses, speed, venom, or another specialized ability.
For a Blutbad, a deliberate woge meant becoming faster, stronger, and considerably more dangerous.
Its predatory instincts also became harder to suppress.
“That explains why you were threatening to tear me apart in the backyard,” Nick said.
“I was defending my territory.” “You invited a gunfight over shrubbery.” “You were hiding inside my hedge after breaking into my house earlier.
I think my reaction was understandable.” Nick ignored the complaint.
The relationship between Grimms and Wesen was more complicated.
Monroe did not know how the conflict began.
Every species preserved its own version of history, and most accounts had been reshaped by fear, pride, or centuries of hatred.
Some stories claimed Grimms once protected humans from Wesen predators.
Others described them as executioners who killed entire families without caring whether their targets had committed crimes.
Whatever the original cause, both sides had spent generations fighting.
Grimms possessed the inherited ability to recognize a Wesen during a woge.
That advantage allowed them to identify creatures who could otherwise live invisibly among ordinary people.
Over centuries of hunting, Grimm families recorded what they learned in journals.
Those handwritten volumes contained drawings, physical descriptions, behavioral patterns, known weaknesses, and methods for defeating dangerous species.
Human fairy tales and folklore preserved distorted traces of the same hidden world.
Stories about wolves, witches, giants, ogres, and other monsters had grown from encounters people could not explain openly.
The journals themselves were different.
They were practical records created by hunters.
Nick’s expression became thoughtful.
“When a Wesen woges without meaning to, they may not even realize it happened.” “Correct.” “But the Grimm looking at them always notices.” “That’s the problem.” Monroe scratched his beard and shifted uneasily.
“Most Wesen can recognize when one of their own changes, but not every involuntary woge is obvious.
Grimms see through it every time.” “And then the killing starts?” “It often did.” Monroe’s humor faded.
“You have to understand what a Grimm looks like to us.
We don’t see you transform into a monster.
When we woge and look into your eyes, we see an endless darkness.
Our own true face is reflected inside it.” Nick listened without interrupting.
“For thousands of years, Wesen have associated that sight with death,” Monroe continued.
“Parents teach their children to fear it.
Stories are passed down about Grimms who entered villages and left bodies behind.
That terror has become almost instinctive.” The explanation made Nick’s bloodline sound far more intimidating than he had expected.
It also brought him a private sense of relief.
“So when you looked at me this afternoon, you weren’t reacting because my face changed?” Monroe appeared offended.
“What did you think happened?” “I wondered whether I transformed too.” “No.
You still looked like yourself.” Monroe gestured between them.
“I admit you’re more conventionally attractive in human form, but my woged face is impressive.
There’s no need to describe it as something strange.” Nick remembered the coarse fur, extended muzzle, blood-red eyes, and exposed fangs.
He decided against arguing over Monroe’s definition of handsome.
At least the earlier encounters finally made sense.
Joshua Coffey had woged, looked into Nick’s eyes, and immediately become terrified.
His desperate pleas had not been an attempt to confuse the police.
Coffey genuinely believed a Grimm was about to kill him.
The elegant blonde woman outside Northwest Armory reacted the same way.
The instant her decayed features appeared and she met Nick’s gaze, her confident smile vanished.
She had hurried away because she recognized what he was.
Nick had mistaken their fear for evidence that something monstrous appeared on his own face.
In reality, his eyes alone revealed his identity.
Monroe spread his hands.
“There.
I’ve answered your questions as honestly as possible.” “Most of them.” “I’ve given you enough to understand the basics.” He leaned forward and looked directly at Nick.
“So what are you planning to do now?” Nick did not respond immediately.
Monroe pointed toward the pistol.
“I should warn you that not every Wesen will panic or run away when they recognize a Grimm.
Some will attack first, especially if they believe you intend to kill them.” The warning would have sounded more threatening if Monroe had not spent most of the conversation watching the P226 with visible anxiety.
Nick almost smiled.
“Someone already demonstrated that.” Monroe tilted his head.
“What do you mean?” “The first Wesen I met pulled a revolver and tried to shoot me in the face.” “You survived.” “Barely.” Monroe stared at him for a moment.
Then his eyes widened as recognition finally appeared.
He clapped his hands and rose from the couch.
“Wait.
That was you!” Nick’s hand moved closer to the pistol.
“What are you talking about?” “The shootout from the news a few days ago.” Monroe pointed excitedly at him.
“You’re that police officer.
The one who dropped backward, cleared a malfunction, and emptied his magazine before the other guy could fire again.” Nick’s expression remained flat.
“I remember the news calling it some kind of modern Western duel,” Monroe continued.
“That Wesen was the one who attacked you?” “Yes.” “What species was he?” “I was hoping you could tell me.” “Did he have fur?” “Yes.” “A muzzle?” “Yes.” “What about the ears?” “Pointed.
Near the top of his head.” Monroe frowned as he considered the description.
“That still leaves several possibilities.” “He looked somewhat like a hyena.” “That narrows it down, but I’d need more details.” “He’s dead, and the body looked completely human afterward.” Monroe’s excitement weakened.
“That happens.
Most Wesen revert when they die.” Nick watched him closely.
“You don’t seem surprised that he tried to kill a Grimm.” “I warned you.
Fear makes people unpredictable.” “You called him a person.” Monroe gave him a tired look.
“Wesen are people, Nick.
Some are decent, some are criminals, and others are monsters.
Having another face underneath this one doesn’t decide which kind we become.” That answer silenced Nick for several seconds.
He had spent the past week wondering whether every Wesen was a hidden predator.
Monroe’s words did not prove they were harmless, but they did challenge the assumption that species alone determined guilt.
Joshua Coffey had been a criminal who drew a gun.
Monroe was an eccentric clockmaker who practiced Pilates and urinated along his property line.
Treating them as identical made no more sense than judging every human by the actions of one murderer.
Nick picked up the P226 but did not point it at Monroe.
He checked the safety of his grip before returning it to the holster beneath his jacket.
Monroe visibly relaxed.
“Thank you.” “Don’t mistake that for trust.” “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Nick stood and looked toward the door.
He had learned enough to understand what he was, but the revelation created even more urgent questions.
Aunt Marie had known the truth.
She had hidden the Grimm journals, concealed her reputation, and left Portland without explaining why Nick would eventually begin seeing Wesen.
If Monroe was right, her road trip might have involved far more than sightseeing.
Nick turned back before leaving.
“One last question.” Monroe’s shoulders sank.
“Of course.” “The Wesen who kidnapped Robin Howell—could a Blutbad track him?” The clockmaker’s cautious expression returned.
“That depends on what scent or evidence you have.” “We found the child’s backpack.” Monroe stared at him.
Nick continued before he could object.
“A six-year-old girl is missing.
Her abductor may also have murdered a college student.
You say you’ve changed and don’t hurt people.” “I have.” “Then prove it.” Monroe’s eyes moved toward the door, then back to Nick.
His earlier confidence faded as he realized what the newly awakened Grimm intended to ask of him.
The frightening wolf-like creature might have looked fierce during a woge, but beneath that appearance lived a man who clearly wanted nothing to do with a murder investigation.
Nick waited in silence.
Monroe finally released a long, unhappy breath.
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