Fic: Blood and Truths
Title: Blood and Truths
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen
Word Count: 1362
Disclaimer: I own nothing and a mere fan :) Please do not sue; I'm unemployed.
Note: grimm_challenge FanFic 4 challenge.
Summary: Nick finds Adalind in his house.
The scent hit him first: fresh wesen blood. As Nick neared the door tears stung his eyes and the stench stole his breath. He’d never noticed the musky, almost spiced scent of wesen blood before but now it was unmistakable. Different than human, this scent was heavier and he could almost taste the iron. He didn’t want to push the door open, didn’t want to look at the massacre inside his own home.
Whose was it?
He closed his eyes and took a step forward. He tried to compartmentalize, to put the dectective before the man. When he opened his eyes he noticed the mailbox ripped from its post, the flower pots tipped over, and the light above the door lay in pieces on the welcome mat.
His hand shook as he pushed the door open, scratch marks lined the base and a distinctive footprint stained the center of the door. The detective’s mind noted the thin sole and heeled boot, the man saw nothing. His heart pounded in his ears and he stepped inside.
A picture frame barely hung onto its place on the wall and glass shards lay broken on the floor, above it the frame hung straight. The mirror Juliette’s mother had given to them as a house warming gift hung in its place above the fireplace but a spiderweb of cracks marred the glass. The basket the Beavers had given them lay in pieces at his feet. The curtains were pulled tight and he barely saw the blackened handprints no the cloth. Blood splattered the wall in a myriad of dolka dots and stringed lines.
“If you connect them,” she said, “I imagine you’ll find the cure to poor, poor Juliette.”
Nick released the safety as he raised his gun and turned in to the dining room where Adalind stood with her back towards him; he gasped and straightened his aim. Her blonde hair was a mess of red and black, blood and mud. A cat, smaller than Majique, wormed its way around her legs in a continuous figure eight and purred loudly.
“Adalaind Schade,” he cursed that his voice shook, “you are under-”
She turned and smiled. She wore a black dress cinched at the waist by white rope and a white cape tied around her neck by a matching rope. Her usual beautiful face was aged and pale, lined with blood and mud. She smirked and raised her hands, “Under arrest? Not if you want her back, Detective.”
Adalind turned back to the wall and swiped a finger through a painted circle, then ended the line in an arrow shape. She glanced down and the cat jumped onto the table where Nick noticed the open book, the colored powders, and a goblet filled with something red.
“Whose,” he breathed and shook his head, he kept his gun aimed, “Whose blood?”
She dipped her fingers into the goblet and traced another signal onto the wall concentrating on the shape, he barely heard her whisper, “An unfortunate Machthexen.”
The cat turned its golden eyes towards Nick and stared. When he moved it growled, when he glowered his gun it purred louder. Adalind stepped back and crossed her arms, then turned to Nick. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Fortune, chaos, magick. Messy but it gets the job done.”
Torn, Nick looked from the former Hexenbeist to his wall. The stench from the blood grew as the wind blew through the opened door, Adalind tsked and pointed to the cat who jumped from the table and walked to the door. It nudged the door closed then stood on its hind legs and pushed it shut. She waited, and watched Nick, with a smirk. She then dipped a finger into the goblet and hummed around her finger as she licked it clean.
“In the olden days Machthexen were powerful Wesen. Now they are pathetic hippies that society chooses to ignore.” She considered the glass and ran her finger along the rim, it sang as she continued, “And nearly impossible to find these days, especially one as powerful as I need. It took me nearly three weeks to find this one.”
Nick raised his gun again and aimed at her head, followed her as she stood. “What are you doing here, Adalind?”
Her cool façade broke and she slammed her fist on the table, shaking the cat and goblet. “Getting my powers back! Getting my life back!”
“And Juliette?”
Adalind picked the cat up and ran her cheek against its face, she whispered soothingly to the cat and both woman and cat stared at him. “I told you,” she pointed the cat’s paw towards the wrecked living room, “Connect the dots, grimm.”
Gun still pointed at her, he looked around him. The blood spray looked like a murder scene. Lines and speckles of red bled into one another and slid down the blue walls. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he glanced down, read the display and looked back at Adalind.
She was gone; the cat, book, and goblet with her. He cursed and answered the phone, kept his gun aimed as he stepped into the dining room and looked around.
“Burkhardt.” He stepped and swung his gun from the dining room to kitchen. The backdoor was open. He sighed and lowered his weapon.
“Nick, we got a body.” Hank called down through the phone, rain and sirens sounded in the background.
“I’m on my way. Where?” Nick turned and looked at the images painted on his wall. He shook his head and tried to focus on his partner.
“The walkway to the cemetary,” Hank paused and Nick could hear his partner take a deep breath. “It’s a bad one, Nick. Male, mid-twenties. The doc says this is the murder site but there’s barely any blood. Whoever did this was stone cold, man, and has a vampire fetish or something.”
Nick turned in slow circle; or something, he thought.
“I’m on my way.” He looked back at the backdoor and walked through the mess to shut it. He looked into the night and saw no sign that Adalind had been there. He walked back through the house and on the way to his car he called Monroe.
“I need you at my house,” he said.
“Well, hello to you too, man. I thought I was supposed to be looking after Juliette. Look I know now isn’t-”
“She was in my house,” Nick cut in. He looked over his car to the house. It looked innocent enough, he thought. You could barely make out any damage. “Adalind was in my house, painting the walls with blood. I need you to look at them and see if you recognize any of the symbols.”
“Blood? What about you?” Nick heard a nurse being called overhead as Monroe spoke.
“I’m on the way to the murder site.”
“Murder, wait-”
Nick hung up and threw the phone on the passenger seat. He slammed the door shut and pulled the car onto the street, he tightened his hold on the wheel as he drove through the stop sign. The walkway near the cemetary, where he’d taken Adalind’s hexenbeist spirit.
Renard watched Nick’s car speed away. He looked back where Adalind had run then walked to Nick’s back door. He opened the door and shook his head. Inside he carefully walked over the debris and stood in the living room. He traced a finger over four dots creating a diamond, then followed the line to trace a circle. He smiled. He turned to the dining room where Adalind had drawn the cross and circle and the smaller triangles in each corner.
“Good girl,” he murmured. It was coming together. Perhaps not as he planned, but it was still coming together.
He took a step back from the wall and walked to the table where the powders lay mixed together. He gathered them into his gloved hand and stuffed it into his pocket. he made sure that nothing remained on the table then closed the kitchen door as he left. He popped the collar of his coat and walked to the alley where his car sat idle.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Gen
Word Count: 1362
Disclaimer: I own nothing and a mere fan :) Please do not sue; I'm unemployed.
Note: grimm_challenge FanFic 4 challenge.
Summary: Nick finds Adalind in his house.
The scent hit him first: fresh wesen blood. As Nick neared the door tears stung his eyes and the stench stole his breath. He’d never noticed the musky, almost spiced scent of wesen blood before but now it was unmistakable. Different than human, this scent was heavier and he could almost taste the iron. He didn’t want to push the door open, didn’t want to look at the massacre inside his own home.
Whose was it?
He closed his eyes and took a step forward. He tried to compartmentalize, to put the dectective before the man. When he opened his eyes he noticed the mailbox ripped from its post, the flower pots tipped over, and the light above the door lay in pieces on the welcome mat.
His hand shook as he pushed the door open, scratch marks lined the base and a distinctive footprint stained the center of the door. The detective’s mind noted the thin sole and heeled boot, the man saw nothing. His heart pounded in his ears and he stepped inside.
A picture frame barely hung onto its place on the wall and glass shards lay broken on the floor, above it the frame hung straight. The mirror Juliette’s mother had given to them as a house warming gift hung in its place above the fireplace but a spiderweb of cracks marred the glass. The basket the Beavers had given them lay in pieces at his feet. The curtains were pulled tight and he barely saw the blackened handprints no the cloth. Blood splattered the wall in a myriad of dolka dots and stringed lines.
“If you connect them,” she said, “I imagine you’ll find the cure to poor, poor Juliette.”
Nick released the safety as he raised his gun and turned in to the dining room where Adalind stood with her back towards him; he gasped and straightened his aim. Her blonde hair was a mess of red and black, blood and mud. A cat, smaller than Majique, wormed its way around her legs in a continuous figure eight and purred loudly.
“Adalaind Schade,” he cursed that his voice shook, “you are under-”
She turned and smiled. She wore a black dress cinched at the waist by white rope and a white cape tied around her neck by a matching rope. Her usual beautiful face was aged and pale, lined with blood and mud. She smirked and raised her hands, “Under arrest? Not if you want her back, Detective.”
Adalind turned back to the wall and swiped a finger through a painted circle, then ended the line in an arrow shape. She glanced down and the cat jumped onto the table where Nick noticed the open book, the colored powders, and a goblet filled with something red.
“Whose,” he breathed and shook his head, he kept his gun aimed, “Whose blood?”
She dipped her fingers into the goblet and traced another signal onto the wall concentrating on the shape, he barely heard her whisper, “An unfortunate Machthexen.”
The cat turned its golden eyes towards Nick and stared. When he moved it growled, when he glowered his gun it purred louder. Adalind stepped back and crossed her arms, then turned to Nick. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Fortune, chaos, magick. Messy but it gets the job done.”
Torn, Nick looked from the former Hexenbeist to his wall. The stench from the blood grew as the wind blew through the opened door, Adalind tsked and pointed to the cat who jumped from the table and walked to the door. It nudged the door closed then stood on its hind legs and pushed it shut. She waited, and watched Nick, with a smirk. She then dipped a finger into the goblet and hummed around her finger as she licked it clean.
“In the olden days Machthexen were powerful Wesen. Now they are pathetic hippies that society chooses to ignore.” She considered the glass and ran her finger along the rim, it sang as she continued, “And nearly impossible to find these days, especially one as powerful as I need. It took me nearly three weeks to find this one.”
Nick raised his gun again and aimed at her head, followed her as she stood. “What are you doing here, Adalind?”
Her cool façade broke and she slammed her fist on the table, shaking the cat and goblet. “Getting my powers back! Getting my life back!”
“And Juliette?”
Adalind picked the cat up and ran her cheek against its face, she whispered soothingly to the cat and both woman and cat stared at him. “I told you,” she pointed the cat’s paw towards the wrecked living room, “Connect the dots, grimm.”
Gun still pointed at her, he looked around him. The blood spray looked like a murder scene. Lines and speckles of red bled into one another and slid down the blue walls. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he glanced down, read the display and looked back at Adalind.
She was gone; the cat, book, and goblet with her. He cursed and answered the phone, kept his gun aimed as he stepped into the dining room and looked around.
“Burkhardt.” He stepped and swung his gun from the dining room to kitchen. The backdoor was open. He sighed and lowered his weapon.
“Nick, we got a body.” Hank called down through the phone, rain and sirens sounded in the background.
“I’m on my way. Where?” Nick turned and looked at the images painted on his wall. He shook his head and tried to focus on his partner.
“The walkway to the cemetary,” Hank paused and Nick could hear his partner take a deep breath. “It’s a bad one, Nick. Male, mid-twenties. The doc says this is the murder site but there’s barely any blood. Whoever did this was stone cold, man, and has a vampire fetish or something.”
Nick turned in slow circle; or something, he thought.
“I’m on my way.” He looked back at the backdoor and walked through the mess to shut it. He looked into the night and saw no sign that Adalind had been there. He walked back through the house and on the way to his car he called Monroe.
“I need you at my house,” he said.
“Well, hello to you too, man. I thought I was supposed to be looking after Juliette. Look I know now isn’t-”
“She was in my house,” Nick cut in. He looked over his car to the house. It looked innocent enough, he thought. You could barely make out any damage. “Adalind was in my house, painting the walls with blood. I need you to look at them and see if you recognize any of the symbols.”
“Blood? What about you?” Nick heard a nurse being called overhead as Monroe spoke.
“I’m on the way to the murder site.”
“Murder, wait-”
Nick hung up and threw the phone on the passenger seat. He slammed the door shut and pulled the car onto the street, he tightened his hold on the wheel as he drove through the stop sign. The walkway near the cemetary, where he’d taken Adalind’s hexenbeist spirit.
Renard watched Nick’s car speed away. He looked back where Adalind had run then walked to Nick’s back door. He opened the door and shook his head. Inside he carefully walked over the debris and stood in the living room. He traced a finger over four dots creating a diamond, then followed the line to trace a circle. He smiled. He turned to the dining room where Adalind had drawn the cross and circle and the smaller triangles in each corner.
“Good girl,” he murmured. It was coming together. Perhaps not as he planned, but it was still coming together.
He took a step back from the wall and walked to the table where the powders lay mixed together. He gathered them into his gloved hand and stuffed it into his pocket. he made sure that nothing remained on the table then closed the kitchen door as he left. He popped the collar of his coat and walked to the alley where his car sat idle.