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Down Came the Rain, Metaphorically Speaking
Part Nine of the Mutually Assured… Series
Dinner
Adalind was seriously trading in her Audi for something a little more… adventurous - not in an avant-garde, experimental way but so that she wouldn’t be forced to spend a fortune detailing her car every time she went on a Grimm-related excursion or, you know, lose her coupe in one of the Siegbarste sized potholes that generously littered the storage yard’s lot. Because now that Nick was single, and lonely, and seemingly doubling down on his Wesen studies, she had a feeling his call to her that night to join him at the trailer for a little research - and only research - would become the norm. And Adalind was amenable to accommodating Nick’s sad idea of what constituted a social life… for now, but her car was not. Despite her head insisting that continual, platonic closeness with the Grimm was a bad idea, other parts of Adalind’s body, louder parts, disagreed.
And, wow, was she really horny.
As she parked her car beside Nick’s SUV, engaging the lock with a peppy chirp-chirp, Adalind experienced a shocking realization. It had been months - months! - since she last had sex. Annoyingly, she doubted that Nick was suffering from the effects of an equally long drought. His relationship with his ex might have been problematic for multiple reasons, but he had never given her any indication that a lack of intimacy was one of them. Then again, it was usually Adalind talking about sex and Nick blushing like a virgin in a fetish club, so maybe she was wrong. Quite frankly, thinking about Nick being left satisfied or even unsatisfied by the Kehrsiete only made Adalind even more frustrated.
Because it wasn’t like she didn’t have options. She could literally walk into a bar, point at the hottest man there, and turn around, knowing that he’d follow her anywhere and into anything. Plus, Adalind had plenty of casual acquaintances who would love to have the chance to pleasure her. But she was so fixated on the Grimm that he was all she could fantasize about. It wouldn’t matter who else she slept with, Adalind would close her eyes and see Nick. Not even Sean could tempt her… should he even feel so inclined, which apparently he wasn’t, seeing as how it had been months since she even heard from him professionally, let alone personally. So, if Adalind was just going to whimper Nick’s name when she climaxed, why even go through the effort of taking someone home with her? Her fingers and her toys would suffice until she had Nick in her bed where he belonged.
Or, at least, Adalind thought masturbating would be enough to keep the edge off, so to speak, but Nick was proving a more challenging conquest than she ever could have predicted. Anyone playing hard to get was a new experience for her, and she had to admit that she didn’t hate it. The anticipation was certainly exhilarating… and promising. There was no doubt in Adalind’s mind that, when she finally got Nick between her thighs, the chase and the capture would be worth it. But, in the meantime, she really needed a nice, long, hard….
“Hey,” Nick pushed open the trailer’s door as Adalind approached, startling her. If he noticed that her mind had been somewhere else, he didn’t let on. “I thought you might appreciate some help.” Nick was talking about the takeout bags she was carrying along with her Givenchy top handle purse. After passing the food to him, Adalind looked down at the hem of her body con dress, wondering how in the world she was going to step up into the Airstream with even a shred of her dignity still intact. After she received Nick’s phone call and invite, she quickly finished what she was working on at the office and then left, only stopping by her favorite Thai restaurant and never considering that she should probably go home and change. But then Nick was turning back to her, hands empty after putting down their dinner, and offering, “here.” It wasn’t so much an offer, though, as he simply just bent down, gripped her by the waist, and lifted her into the trailer like she weighed no more than the takeout.
The entire event did absolutely nothing to dull her out of control lust. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Nick let go of her once she was settled on her feet, moving towards the food and looking through the bags even as he asked, “what’s this?”
For a second, she almost thought he was asking about her and her reaction to him. It was on the tip of her tongue to respond, need - desperate, fiery, starving need, and I’m going to need you to fuc…, but then Adalind remembered where she was, and who she was with, and what they were doing… and not doing with each other. In order to get her body under control, she had to close her eyes and take several deep breaths. She clenched her fists so tightly that her garnet and diamond cocktail ring cut into the palm of her left hand.
“Oh, I, uh, I ordered several things,” Adalind eventually answered. Her voice was still shaky, but she was banking on Nick being too distracted by food that didn’t come in a can to notice. “I wasn’t sure what you liked. There’s satay with peanut sauce on the side. I got summer rolls and edamame. Normally, I’d order a broth-based soup to go with my meal, but I thought you might be a little over soup at the moment. Then, there’s pad thai, of course, and chicken and broccoli with peanut sauce.” If the Grimm noticed she went for the healthier menu options, she knew he would just assume it was because of her vanity. He’d never guess that she was actually thinking more about him and when he last had some actual vegetables in his diet.
Without much space for them to spread out with their food and their Grimm books, Nick took the floor, while Adalind opted for what he called the sofa. Only… it wasn’t a couch at all. Or a bed. It was a wooden storage cabinet with a two inch cushion slapped on top. All the pillows and blankets in the world couldn’t make that slab of walnut even the slightest bit comfortable. Adalind would have admired Nick’s determination and fortitude in turning down her invite to sleep with her in her bed… if she also didn’t find it so insulting, if it also didn’t make her feel so sexually disappointed and defeated. It was only a matter of minutes before her ass started to go numb, causing Adalind to constantly seek a more comfortable position when there simply wasn’t one.
Nick ate voraciously, and Adalind nibbled distractedly. Between bites of chicken and broccoli, he told her, “so, get this: a couple of Eisbiber kids egged my car. I was over at Monroe’s last night, trying to watch a game with him, which tells me that they must be following me.”
“It’s a good thing this place is made of metal then, I suppose,” Adalind quipped.
Unimpressed, Nick frowned at her. “That’s not exactly helpful.”
“Look, I don’t know what to tell you,” Adalind started, setting aside her edamame. “You’re either the stuff of nightmares or a curiosity. Because of your insistence that you’re a kinder, gentler Grimm, you get door number two.”
“So, I should just ignore the harassment?”
“It was a few eggs, Nick,” Adalind scoffed. “Don’t forget that I’ve been a passenger in your car. The smell of sulfur would be an upgrade.” It really wasn’t that bad, but she enjoyed winding the Grimm up. Hopefully, someday, he’d spin completely out of control… and then under, or over, or behind her.
“But what if it escalates, or what if it happens again when I’m somewhere with Hank?” Nick leaned over towards the cooler he had somehow managed to wedge inside of the already overstuffed trailer. He pulled out two bottles of water, handing one to her. “I can’t exactly tell him that I’m the adolescent Eisbiber’s dare of choice.”
Adalind took a sip, shrugged, and then said, “Nick, I’m not sure what you want me to say. Sure, you could crash the Eisbibers’ next Lodge meeting…”
“Their what,” he interrupted her to seek clarification.
In response, Adalind glared at the books spread out around him. “Seriously, what do these Grimm diaries even tell you? Obviously very little that’s useful!” Randomly, she bent down to reach for one, but Nick slid it away from her grasp, giving her a different tome instead. Adalind used her powers to flip the denied manuscript over, seeing that it was all about Hexenbiests. Her glare darkened. “Eisbibers are big on community. They make decisions democratically, voting at their Lodge meetings.”
“Or I could just talk to Bud.”
“Bud?”
“He’s a refrigerator repairman,” Nick offered as an explanation… like that told her anything. She nodded, indicating that she wanted more, and he obliged. “I’m pretty sure he started all of this. I met him briefly. It was unrelated to a case. As soon as he made eye contact with me, he got all… squirrelly, apologizing, asking me not to kill him, and eventually running off. He was the first Eisbiber I ever saw. Hell, I didn’t even know what an Eisbiber was at that point.”
“They’re nosy by nature - Eisbibers, and gossips. I’m sure this Bud ran right back to his Lodge and told them all about you. First, they probably feared that you were going to come and wipe out their entire community. When beaver heads didn’t roll, in all likelihood, they then became cautiously curious. That’s probably who was watching your house, and it would explain why they reacted so badly when your ex stalked them in kind.”
“You keep saying things like that,” Nick protested, reaching for the summer rolls. Adalind had moved on to the pad thai herself. “Things like it’s completely unthinkable that a Grimm wouldn’t just kill everything Wesen first and then not even bother to ask questions afterwards. Or about how our natures are absolute. Grimms are killers. Eisbibers are busybodies. Hexenbiests are practically perfect in every way.”
Amused, Adalind queried, “did you just call me Mary Poppins?”
But Nick wouldn’t let go of his point. “People can be different than who history and these books,” he pushed several of them away from his outstretched, crossed legs, “say they are.”
She was starting to wonder if they were actually talking about something besides Eisbibers. “Yes,” Adalind began slowly, nodding tentatively in agreement, “people can be different. But stereotypes exist for a reason. Human nature may be malleable, but Wesen nature? We’re not just fighting against our biology when we succeed in being different. The Hexenbiest? The Blutbad? The Grimm? That’s primal.”
“Monroe has done it,” Nick argued.
“No, Monroe is trying. It is a constant, daily struggle for him. Two months ago, he lost that battle, ate some woodland creatures, and failed to bring me back the skins, so I could have a rabbit fur coat made… or at least a cropped jacket.”
With his chin at a stubborn angle, Nick looked up at her with an expression that read as both argumentative and terrified. “And what about me?”
But that was an easy question for Adalind to answer. “You are an anomaly - a one of a kind Grimm.”
“No,” he disagreed with her, shaking his head emphatically. “Because my Aunt Marie was different, too.”
Ah, and here they were, though any satisfaction Adalind could have derived from being right was overshadowed by her awareness that, if she and Nick couldn’t figure out a way to move beyond the issue of his Aunt, then this - a pseudo friendship and a shaky alliance - was all they would ever have with one another. “For you, Aunt Marie was a peach. Tough but fair, she was your family. You loved her, and she loved you. For years, you were all each other had. But to the rest of the world? Marie Kessler was a formidable, old school Grimm. Her reputation preceded her wherever she went. So, when she came to Portland, we knew that to cross her was to die. Eventually, though, she got older, and then she got sick. When she moved away, it was a stay of execution, not an acquittal. And then, when she came back, we all just picked up where we left off, only, this time, I just happened to be a player on the board.”
“She was already dying,” Nick insisted, still not getting Adalind’s point, apparently. “Why couldn’t you just let her pass peacefully?”
“Nick, in her last breaths, Marie literally killed an assassin.”
“One that you sent after her,” he yelled.
But she didn’t acknowledge the charge. Not yet. “A woman like Marie was always going to die bloody, and if I understood her at all, she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Nick tossed up his hands in aggravation. Scoffing, he added, “and don’t act like you did her some kind of favor by trying to kill her!”
“I’m not,” she denied. “But I think your Aunt would have understood that my actions were not personal. I was a Hexenbiest sent on orders by a Zauberbiest to kill a Grimm.”
“Wait, your other partner is a Zauberbiest? That’s what,” and suddenly Nick’s entire vibe morphed from aggressive and confrontational to curious, “the male counterpart to a Hexenbiest?”
She’d never meant to reveal Sean’s Wesen identity, and Adalind supposed at least some of it - the fact that he was only a half Zauberbiest, the other half a bastard royal - was still a secret she could wield in her own defense, but she let the surprise she felt at her own slip roll off of her shoulders, calmly replying, “you didn’t actually think I was working with a lesser Wesen or even a Kehrsiete, did you?”
“I honestly have no idea what to think, because the woman I know - the woman who gives me hell and seems to argue with every thought I have and every action I take - would never allow someone else to decide for her if she should take a person’s life.”
Feeling warm - whether it was from their argument or the small, stifling nature of the trailer didn’t matter, Adalind reached up to unbutton and remove her puffed sleeved, asymmetrical cropped blazer. Tossing it to the side well out of the way of the food, she replied, “has it ever occurred to you that, in the case of Marie Kessler, my own interests might have aligned with my partner’s? I was taught to fear three things in life: a lack of power, a loss of beauty, and Grimms. That’s why I woged when I first saw you. I had never seen a Grimm before, and my response was involuntary. Instinctual. When I later learned that there was a second Grimm in Portland - one with a very bloody reputation, all I could think about was leveling the playing field. I’m sorry that I took your Aunt away from you, and I’m sorry that you miss and grieve for her, but I can’t change what happened. At the time, I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Can you at least admit now that you actually did the wrong thing?”
Rather than answer him directly, Adalind posed her own question. “If Marie was standing here in front of me right now, and you told her that I was different, that I wasn’t like other Hexenbiests, would she still kill me anyway?”
Because he didn’t dismiss either the point she was trying to make or her query out of hand, Adalind could believe Nick when he thoughtfully replied, “she let Monroe live.”
“Then, yes, maybe I was wrong about her. Maybe Marie could have fit right in and joined our ridiculous group that defies all logic and reason.”
“See, this is exactly why I like to give the benefit of the doubt to all of the Wesen I encounter during my cases,” he pointed out.
“I will bear that in mind when advising you… as long as you also give me the benefit of the doubt that, when I tell you we can’t let someone live, I’m not just acting in self-interest; I’m also weighing a lifetime of Wesen knowledge and experience and considering what is best for you, for Monroe, and for our partnership.”
“I can do that,” Nick readily and even eagerly agreed.
“Alright,” she sighed, feigning weariness. “Tell me about your latest Wesen weirdness. I’m sure you didn’t just invite me over for a little food and a little foreplay.” For all of the arguing they did with one another, if it didn’t eventually turn into foreplay, Adalind was going to cry foul. And maybe just cry, too.
“I did think that you could be particularly insightful about my new case.”
She had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer to her question. “Oh, and why is that?”
“Well, it would be one predatory female - you - providing me with an insider’s perspective on another - my suspect.”
Adalind was right - she was always right; she didn’t appreciate Nick’s response. But probably not in the way that he intended. She wasn’t offended by him calling her predatory. In fact, quite the opposite; she found it to be a compliment. What she didn’t like was being compared to another femme fatale, especially if the Wesen in suspicion proved to be something other than a Hexenbiest. “Keep it up, and you’ll owe me for your Grimm’s share of dinner.”
Nick just grinned up at her from his seat on the floor. “The victim is a healthy, young male last seen alive last night but found mummified this morning.” While Nick talked, laying out the details of his case, Adalind closed her eyes and leaned back, feet dangling off the side of the sofa bed while her mind sorted through and made Wesen sense of the information he was providing her. “His Rolex was missing, but he was in possession of an extra, very feminine finger. The print from that finger showed up at a crime scene in Phoenix five years ago, same MO.”
Adalind started to feel a tickle, but it wasn’t in the back of her mind, signaling the formation of an idea. Instead, it was on her leg. Starting just above the edge of her black-to-red gradient stiletto pumps, a whisper of a touch crawled up and over her ankle and then meandered over her bare calf. Lashes fluttering open, she looked down to see that it was Nick. He was using the pads of two of his fingers - his right index and middle - to slowly walk across her skin. She would have asked him what he was doing except she was afraid he would stop. It was the second time that night he had voluntarily made contact with her - both touches innocent and tame, but, for Nick, he was acting downright handsy.
Their gazes met, locked, and he smirked. “I think it’s a spider.”
Adalind had to blink away the haze of attraction that had settled over her. “Sometimes, I’d swear you were less of a Grimm and more of an exterminator.” She must have caught him by surprise, because Nick barked out a laugh. “I have to admit, though, that I’m not as familiar with Wesen spiders as I am with other creatures. They’re pretty rare and considered outcasts.”
Nick waved his hand around him at the carpet of books. “Hence, why we’re researching.”
If what he then proceeded to do was supposed to be research, it was a good thing Nick had decided to be a cop and not a lawyer. In horror, Adalind observed him out of the corner of her eye as he hastily, roughly, and impatiently flipped through diary after diary, carelessly casting each and every manuscript he touched aside after just a few minutes. She, on the other hand, took her time and was meticulous, so it came as no surprise to Adalind that she was the one to locate the information they sought. She quickly read over the pertinent facts, memorized them, and then turned to Nick, “what language do you speak?”
Without looking up from his own book and continuing to flip pages, he said, “uh… English?”
“I meant what other language.”
That pulled his attention away from his task, and he glanced up at her. “I can manage some latin.”
“Oh, well, actually, that would normally prove helpful, but I’m afraid this is in…”
“Pig latin,” he interrupted her, making Adalind tilt her head to the side in silent reprimand. Her hair caught on one of her large, emerald cut garnet studs, and she briskly released it. Nick simply laughed at her censure, however.
“Well, I’m fluent in English, German, and French. I was considering learning another language for work, but that won’t help us now.” Handing him the scroll she had just unraveled, Adalind asked, “do you know anyone who reads Japanese?”
“I know you, and I know Monroe,” Nick replied deadpan. “Do you think Monroe reads Japanese?”
Rather than respond to his sarcasm, Adalind suggested, “if you were comfortable with me borrowing this, I could take it to work, scan it - discreetly, of course, and then use a translator program to read it.”
“Oh, yeah, that would be really helpful,” he readily agreed to her plan. “Thank you.”
“You know, I would suggest that you invest in a scanner and a high powered computer yourself, except that would require you to live somewhere that actually had electricity.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, falling back to lean against the bench style window seat behind him. “I really need to find an actual place to live, don’t I?”
Pertly, Adalind informed him, “it would be a start,” implying that there were other things in his life that Nick needed to fix - mainly, the fact that they weren’t in each other's beds.
Drinks
By the time Adalind made her way inside, Nick had been there for at least ten minutes. So, she expected Monroe to already have the pertinent facts of the case. Curious as to the Blutbad’s reaction, she skipped right over greetings and demanded Nick tell her, “so, what did he say?”
“I haven’t gotten to that part yet,” Nick gestured towards where Monroe was working at his kitchen island. “I’ve been a little distracted.”
“By Baddenwurst?” She hoped she infused enough incredulousness into her tone to fully express her dismay, because if the Grimm’s attention was that easily distracted, there went several of her… plans.
Defensively, Nick excused, “I had to make sure that it was… vegan.”
“Of course it’s vegan,” Adalind rolled her eyes before making a direct line to where she knew Monroe kept the red wine. She had a feeling their conversation was going to require some alcohol. “If Monroe was going to slide, he wouldn’t take the time to grind, season, and pack the meat into casings; he’d just eat it.”
“Thank you,” Monroe called out in appreciation of Adalind’s defense. But then a puzzled frown furrowed his face. “I think?” Briefly glancing away from his task at hand, he asked, “where did you come from anyway?”
“Oh, I came through the back, because some of us,” she glared at Nick, “need to be circumspect.”
As Monroe watched her pour a glass of merlot, he groused, “when exactly did this become mi casa es su casa?”
Adalind snorted. “Like I’d ever live here.”
“Could have fooled me,” Nick grumbled. For a moment, Adalind wondered why he was the one complaining, but then she shrugged it off, because she had been anticipating telling Monroe about the Spinnetod since she and Nick first put the Wesen puzzle pieces together the night before.
“So, did Nick tell you that he has himself a Black Widow?”
“Uh, he didn’t have to tell me, because I’m staring at her right now.”
Taking a drink, she waved off the would-be insult. “I’m talking in the literal sense.”
“No!” Monroe practically gasped, his gaze ricocheting from Adalind to the Grimm himself. “There’s another Spinnetod in Portland?”
Putting her glass down on the counter with an audible click, Adalind demanded to know, “wait, are you saying you know a Spinnetod?”
“Well, I mean, she’s reformed,” Monroe shrugged… like that made any difference.
Though, it did pose another question. “How exactly would that even work?”
“You could ask her yourself. Charlotte…”
Adalind giggled. “Did you just say Charlotte?” With strained patience, Monroe nodded just once in assent. “Oh, please tell me that you met because she let you eat what was left of Wilbur after she poisoned and sucked the life out of him for stealing her creative thunder one too many times.”
Before the Blutbad could respond, Nick reentered the conversation. “Do you think your friend…”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow your roll there, Grimm,” Adalind cut him off. “Monroe hates spiders. I think they spun one too many webs inside of his precious clocks.”
“What does that even mean, and why did it sound so dirty,” Monroe wanted to know.
“You’re welcome,” she shot him a smirk to go along with her snark. Refocusing on Nick, she pressed, “he’d never be friends with a Spinnetod.”
“How do you know Monroe hates spiders?”
“I don’t know,” Adalind took another sip of wine and then considered. “The same way I know his favorite color is red, he collects stamps, and he has a nickel allergy, I guess. We talk?”
“See!,” Monroe exclaimed towards Nick. In his excited emphasis, he pushed down on his meat press a little too hard. And, yeah, okay maybe the two of them did have a point that every thought that came out of her mouth… or floated unsaid around her head… sounded sexual. Monroe’s actions were rewarded with a loud squelch. “We Wesen cannot only have normal conversations, but we appreciate them, too.”
Gesturing between the two of them, Adalind inquired, “are you saying that, in all the time you’ve spent together, you’ve never actually gotten to know each other?”
“He doesn’t even know my parents’ names.”
Adalind gasped - mostly in jest but a small amount of her dramatics was genuine. “You don’t know about Alice and Bart?” Grinning impishly, she joked, “I’d ask if you were born and raised in a barn, but Charlotte was.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Monroe announced. He wiped his hands off on his apron and then stripped the fabric off over his head. “Yes, Charlotte is my friend, and, no, she won’t know your Spinnetod - I know exactly what you were going to ask me,” the Blutbad fired at Nick. “Now, put down your wine,” he instructed her, “and grab your keys,” he ordered Nick, “because we’re going on a field trip. On second thought,” Monroe amended before any of them could move. “Give me that wine.” Adalind did as requested, and Monroe downed what remained in her glass - no scant amount - in a single, impressive gulp. Afterwards, Monroe sighed. “Yeah, that helped.”
It took Adalind all of three seconds to yell out, “shotgun!”
“What, no! No!,” Monroe tried to deny. But Nick had already turned towards the front door, and Adalind was following him, so Monroe was forced to trail after both of them, the Baddenwurst and its mess already forgotten. “Don’t you need to go crawling through my hedgerow again so as to avoid detection?”
“Yeah, no,” Adalind quickly denied. “I almost scratched my favorite pair of peep-toe suede notched booties climbing through that jungle you call a yard. That won’t be happening again.”
Although she and Nick were still wearing their coats, never having taken them off - Adalind’s a cute double collar knee length trench with a leather belt and Nick’s the same black jacket he always seemed to wear, Monroe still needed to get ready, including running back to the kitchen to wash his hands. While he was gone, he yelled at her, “what are my neighbors going to think if they see you leaving my house but never saw you enter?”
“They’ll think you got game, Blutbad! I’ll up your street cred. Hell, I’ll give you some.”
Monroe sputtered. “I have game!”
“Playing chess against yourself does not count, Monroe.” She met Nick’s gaze while she bantered with their friend. Though he rolled his eyes at her, he was also smirking in amusement.
Fairly stomping back towards where they were waiting for him in the entryway, Monroe asked, “and what about your precious circumspection? Somebody might spot you riding in the front seat of Nick’s Land Cruiser. That thing doesn’t exactly blend in, you know. What then? You should let me sit up front, while you hunker down in the back.”
“Well, I mean, if you’re really worried about me, Monroe, I guess I could borrow your super secret sleuth suit.”
That time, Nick laughed out loud. “Dude!,” Monroe complained. “Is nothing sacred? I thought we weren’t going to talk about the whole Gallenblase debacle.”
“We didn’t talk about it,” Nick defended. “I talked about it with Adalind instead.”
“Yes, because telling a Hexenbiest that I bought $300 worth of a Wesen aphrodisiac is what I had in mind when we agreed on discretion!”
“$300,” Adalind repeated, agog. “Are you kidding me?”
“Hey, that’s what we both said, too,” Nick volunteered, opening the door and ushering Adalind out in front of him. They waited on the front porch for Monroe to lock up.
Once he joined them in walking towards the car, Adalind, not finished with her teasing yet, went in for the kill. “You needed that much? I don’t even think being seen with me can help you at this point. You're a lost cause, my Blutbaden friend.”
“If I was really your friend, you’d let me sit in the front,” Monroe whined, not even acknowledging her digs at his expense. “I’m bigger than you, so I should get shotgun.”
“But if you sit in the back,” she pointed out helpfully, opening the passenger side door and climbing inside of the vehicle, “you’ll be able to manspread.”
Monroe sputtered, and he stomped, but he also gave in. Seconds later, Nick started the old Toyota, and they were headed towards, what Monroe revealed to them to be, a Klosterhaus - a retirement/monastic retreat for Wesen. Nick found this new piece of Wesen knowledge to be both fascinating and confounding, which then led to Monroe defending Wesen honor, which then led to the caveat that said honor did not apply to Schneetmachers. The rest of the car ride was taken up by Nick asking for an explanation of a Schneetmacher and Monroe’s description repeatedly spiraling into a hate spewed diatribe. Every time the Blutbad attempted to provide a fact about a Schneetmacher, he said their name and then just dissolved into yet another example of ‘Schneetmachers are so bad, I wouldn’t even…,’ much to Nick’s annoyance and her mirth.
By the time they arrived at the rest home, Adalind was actually looking forward to meeting Charlotte.
Or maybe she just wanted to not be trapped in a car with a Grimm and a Blutbad any longer.
The jury was still out.
Once they were inside and introductions were made - both of name and of creature, Adalind sort of lost interest. The whole situation was quite sad. Here, she had been expecting a formidable woman only to find an old, frail lady. And the retirement home itself was depressing. From where she sat on the couch - coat tossed aside, legs crossed at the ankles, ring cut-out knit dress elegantly displayed, hands demurely folded, Adalind tried to imagine what it would be like to live in such a place. It was a devastating thought and a potent reminder of why Hexenbiests valued wealth and power so much. Because, surely, anyone with either - let alone both - wouldn’t end up in a Klosterhaus.
While her thoughts drifted, Adalind allowed Nick to take the lead on the conversation. He and Charlotte discussed his case, the latter of which confirmed their suspicions that the perpetrator was a Spinnetod. She told them about le retour d'âge and the mortification process. If they were supposed to feel sorry for Spinnetods, Charlotte failed in her mission. Even after she revealed her age - just 26, Adalind found herself more annoyed with Charlotte’s fatalism than anything else. Knowing of the scope of her own powers, she found it difficult to believe the Spinnetod only had two choices: kill or age rapidly. Surely, there was a spell, or a Zaubertrank, or a potion that could help.
Nick and Charlotte were talking about the murder victim’s missing gold watch when she felt the Spinnetod’s gaze fall upon her and then freeze. “Oh no,” Adalind warned, fingering the silver lariat necklace she wore. “Eyes off the prize, Arachnid. You might move like you really have eight legs, but I will step on you and squash you like the bug you are if you even think about trying to take what’s mine.”
“Wow, Adalind,” Monroe scoffed, reprimanding her. “Way to be grateful for Charlotte’s help!”
“It’s alright,” Charlotte soothed, though she never looked away from Adalind. “The Hexenbiest and I understand each other. We both know that she isn’t really protecting her jewelry and that I am no threat to her.”
“So, then, why the actual threats,” Nick wondered out loud.
Charlotte didn’t say anything, but she looked pointedly back and forth between Adalind and Nick several times, making Monroe draw out, “Ooh, I get it! It’s a territorial thing. And people mock me for marking my fence line.”
“You what?!” Seeing as how Adalind had scaled that very fence line less than two hours earlier, she felt like she had a right to be outraged. Eyeing her gray handbag sitting at her feet, Adalind silently fumed. While she could have her dress and her coat dry cleaned, Blutbad urine was not going to come out of that soft leather.
“It’s more than that, though,” Charlotte insisted, pretending like Adalind hadn’t just interrupted the conversation to yell at Monroe. “You don’t need to protect me from Ms. Schade. As another Wesen who has turned against her nature, I understand how important it is for her to protect what is hers.”
“I haven’t turned against anything, and you can flirt with the Grimm all you want,” Adalind denied vehemently. “Because, trust me, he’s well practiced in turning people down all on his own.”
Despite her strong protests, Charlotte’s quick and easy observations about Adalind made her pause. While she knew that it was unconventional, working with Nick still made sense. Maybe he couldn’t bring her wealth, but she was fully capable of acquiring that - already had, in fact - on her own. But power? With every case, with every fight, Nick gained more and more of it. If Spinnetods were attracted to shiny things, then Hexenbiests were attracted to influential and important things. Influential and important people. Once, that had been Sean, but now? Well, Adalind was sitting beside him.
As everyone said their goodbyes, Adalind discretely lifted a hand to make sure that she still had both of her black sapphire hoop earrings. She did. Of course, the boys didn’t notice her paranoia, but Charlotte did. The Spinnetod offered her a knowing look but didn’t say anything. Adalind was the first to walk away, wanting out of the rest home as soon as possible, Nick and Monroe following closely behind her. At least one question had been answered during their visit to Charlotte: the anticipation Adalind had felt upon their arrival had nothing to do with the Spinnetod herself and everything to do with riding in cars with Wesen.
Actually, that wasn’t the only thing meeting Charlotte had accomplished. It had also confirmed something she had been contemplating since determining what type of creature Nick was investigating. “If you manage to get enough evidence on this woman to make an arrest, this might be a case you want to handle without Hank. After all, we know how concerned you get about Hank’s susceptibility to predatory Wesen women.”
“Are you volunteering your services instead,” Nick challenged her.
Rather than answer him, Adalind called out, “shotgun,” making Monroe snivel and swear the rest of the way back to the Land Cruiser.
Dancing
As they had agreed the night before - if Nick discovered the Spinnetod’s identity and tried to make an arrest before the end of the third night of her mortification process, then he would call Adalind in as his backup, so Adalind was spending her evening down at the marina. Under normal circumstances, that should have been a promising start to her night. But saving a human from a Wesen wasn’t exactly normal or seductive, which is what she would have preferred meeting up with Nick to do. And she wasn’t particular about who did the seducing and who was seduced. Adalind was flexible like that.
And in other ways.
However, off book police work or passion, she was determined that she would look good no matter what. So, when Adalind saw Nick standing on the pier next to a boat, waiting for her, she made sure to add an extra swing to her hips. It didn’t matter that, if they were successful in thwarting the Spinnetod’s third kill, she would literally age before their eyes. Right now, in that particular moment, she was attractive enough to lure younger men to their deaths. It was vain, but Adalind didn’t want Nick to even notice the Black Widow; she wanted all of his male appreciation solely and intently focused on her.
There were things she wanted to ask him - most notably, how did he ditch Hank, and what exactly was their plan, but Nick insisted that there wasn’t time, that they would talk after she got the Kehrseite to safety and he had apprehended the suspect. So, the next thing Adalind knew, she had a mental grip on a fresh out of his toga frat boy, encouraging him towards the parking lot where she would leave him in the relative safety of the street lights and soon-to-be arriving cop car cavalry, so she could return to Nick. But, first, she had to refrain from killing the Spinnetod’s would-be third victim herself. For Adalind, his death wouldn’t be a biological imperative, but it was starting to seem like a mercy to the world.
“You don’t look like any cop I’ve ever seen before.”
All Spider Bait #3 had was his looks. Apparently, youth was enough to sustain a Spinnetod; substance was not required. “That’s because I don’t work in law enforcement. I was just out for a stroll along the marina when the detective asked for my help.”
“So, then, I could ask you out?”
Three months ago, Adalind would have been tempted to say yes - not to a date with the dude-bro whose life she and Nick were saving, but she would have slept with him. Objectively speaking, he was good looking and… pliable. It wouldn’t have even bothered her that he was five minutes removed from a failed one night stand. But as she walked him down the pier, Adalind didn’t even feel a flicker of sexual interest, though she was curious about one thing. “If I was a cop, you wouldn’t ask me out?”
“You can’t hit on cops,” he told her… as if that rule was obvious. And, god, the Spinnetod’s standards were depressing!
“Oh, I beg to differ,” Adalind remarked. “You can, and I do hit on cops. Well, one cop. A certain detective. In fact, it’s probably safe to say that I hit on him every single day. Hitting on him is quite possibly my favorite hobby.”
The Spinnetod’s simpleton-almost-dinner looked down at Adalind in confusion. “What does that mean for us, then?”
They had reached the parking lot. Making sure to look him directly in the eyes, she spoke slowly, succinctly, and persuasively. “You’re going to stay here until the police arrive, and you’re never going to see me again.”
“That’s too bad.” As quickly as it appeared, his pout turned into a hopeful expression. “What about the trial, though?”
But Adalind was already gone.
Without a human to manipulate and control, she was able to much more quickly complete her return trip to the boat. When she arrived, Nick and the Spinnetod were nowhere in sight. Stashing her coat and purse - she’d grab them again afterwards before slipping away unseen, Adalind, much less encumbered in just her high rise shorts and off the shoulder, fringed sweater, briefly woged so she could better sense her surroundings. It didn’t take her long to find Nick, so she shook off her Hexenbiest and followed him and their prey deeper along the pier.
Having sensed the presence of the Spinnetod’s poison on the boat, Adalind had to move quickly but quietly. Like the spider she was, the Black Widow scurried on all fours like she had eight legs, leaping from concrete column, to mast, and then back to a column. By the time she caught up with them, even though Nick had his gun pulled, his target was too elusive, and she was set to spring down onto him. It only took Adalind a moment to observe and take stock of her surroundings. Then, acting on instinct alone, she woged again, telekinetically swinging the boom around as fast as she could. It smacked into the Spinnetod, knocking her backwards and into a net.
Nick’s head whipped around towards her in surprise. Adalind hoped his astonishment wasn’t because he feared she wouldn’t return but that, instead, awash in adrenaline, he had been too in the moment to really clock the passing of time or focus on anything beyond survival. For several seconds, he just stared at her, an unreadable expression on his handsome face. It disappeared before Adalind could catalogue or even begin to interpret it. “What happened to your cape?”
Shaking off the Hexenbiest and stalking towards him - the deck of the small sailboat was slippery from the falling rain, but if Adalind Schade was anything, it was sure footed in her thigh high, patent leather stiletto boots. “I think the proper response here is ‘thank you for saving my life’.”
Nick huffed defensively. “I had it covered.”
“Mh hm,” she hummed noncommittally in response.
“Seriously, though, where’s the victim?”
The Spinnetod continued to struggle within the nets, hissing and growling in their direction but to absolutely no effect. Standing side-by-side with Nick, they watched the spider struggle, trapped in her own web, so to speak, as they talked. “Trust me, he’s not going anywhere. He’s safe.”
“What did you do to him, Adalind?”
Nick’s tone was querulous, and Adalind relished it. God, she loved testing his patience. “I simply impressed upon him that it would be in his best interest not to leave the pier’s parking lot until your backup arrived.”
Drolly, Nick interpreted, “he physically cannot move right now, can he?”
“Of course he can move! I wasn’t about to do anything that would make your already weird - even unexplainable - case weirder. He’ll simply be compelled to stop and turn around should he venture too far away. Think of it like an electric fence... for flies.”
“But otherwise he’s okay?”
“Yes, Nick,” she answered him dramatically. Apparently, that was enough reassurance for him, because he holstered his weapon, though she still continued by adding, “I didn’t touch a hair on his empty head,” Adalind lowered her voice, started grumbling, “even if he did deserve it for trying to pick me up.”
She kind of thought Nick would ignore the revelation that his witness and the would-be victim had hit on her. That or simply turning her down were his usual responses when Adalind flirted with him. But if he did react, she assumed it would be derision or even amusement, claiming the unwanted attention was deserved for all of the times she flirted with him. What Adalind never expected was for the Grimm’s hackles to rise, for the low-key frustration he always seemed to be experiencing around her to shift into high gear at the mention of the Spinnetod’s date taking an interest in Adalind. “He asked you out?,” Nick spat out his question, seeking clarification.
“Don’t worry,” she patted him on the chest, slipping her hand beneath the parted lapels of his jacket to cop a better feel and get closer to him. Nick didn’t shrug off her touch. “He was crushed. I think I might have even broken his heart - not literally, of course” Adalind added hastily when considering her audience, “when I told him he’d never see me again.”
Nick snorted, shaking off whatever mood had briefly gripped him. “Too bad he already got a good look at you. I can’t wait to explain to Hank, the Captain, and the DA how, after asking a complete and random stranger to help me on an official police investigation, she just… disappeared, never to be found again. Plus, it’s not like you’re an unknown entity around the station. Someone might recognize the description the victim provides of you.” His gaze flickered over her several times. “You’re not exactly easy to forget or inconspicuous.”
“Why, thank you, Nick!” As an aside, she teased him, “see, that’s how you show someone appreciation when they say something nice about you or, you know, save your life from a literal man-eating spider.” Speaking of the Spinnetod, she had calmed down considerably. Though she would still occasionally thrash in the net or hiss at them, she seemed to be accepting her fate… and paying close attention to their conversation. “But I wouldn’t worry too much about your witness’ ability to recall much more about me than boobs. She,” here Adalind nodded towards the caught spider, “wasn’t exactly picking them for their… well, any of their skills, really.”
“Still, if you’re going to keep helping me…”
“I’m pretty sure you charge higher interest rates than even credit card companies,” Adalind interrupted, playfully glaring up at him. “Even though I continue to offer to pay you in other, more pleasurable ways, you refuse. Short of killing you… and, sadly, that has somehow lost its appeal for me, I really do not see how I’ll ever be clear of my debt.”
“You do know that, when I ask for your help, I’m no longer cashing in markers, Adalind. You have more than repaid me for saving your life.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat, Nick looked out across the water. “We’re partners now. Friends. I kind of thought you liked helping me?”
“Eh,” she hedged, biting her bottom lip to suppress a grin. “It has its moments.”
“Anyway,” Nick cleared his throat. He started to fidget, which told Adalind that the detective in him was feeling the need to act now that the Grimm had been satisfied. “I was just going to suggest that maybe you wear a wing sometimes… you know, to disguise your appearance.”
“Trust me, a bad wig is always more memorable than good hair, and there is no such thing as a good wig. If the goal is for me to go unnoticed, the last thing you want me to do is wear a wig.” For a moment, the two of them fell silent so that all they could hear was the gentle lapping of the river against the dock and the Spinnetod’s quiet weeping. “How’d you lose Hank?”
Nick flashed her a conspiratorial glance. “I sent Monroe a picture of the suspect and had him call in a bogus sighting just as the bulletin came through that her car was spotted down here by the pier. Hank, as the senior detective, went after the better lead.”
“Oh man, I can only imagine that tip line call. How much do you want to bet that Monroe made up a whole character backstory for himself and used a fake accent?”
“He might have even worn a costume,” Nick suggested, making Adalind giggle. The moment was broken by the still far off but getting ever closer wailing of approaching patrol cars. Sobering, he stepped closer to the Spinnetod, nodding in the spider’s direction. “What are we going to do about her? She didn’t just see your face; she saw you woge as well. Plus, she’s been listening to us this entire time. She knows your name.”
“I know what you are, too,” the Spinnetod spoke for the first time, glaring at Nick. “A Grimm,” she spat at him.
Adalind joined Nick as his side. “Yes, he’s a Grimm,” she mocked the spider, rolling her eyes dismissively, “and he works with a Hexenbiest.”
Through her tears, the Black Widow seethed, “you’re doing more than that together!”
“Don’t I wish,” Adalind huffed in denied pleasure and sexual frustration. After a beat during which neither Nick nor the Spinnetod responded, she turned to the Grimm and blithely said, “I vote for killing her.”
Nick’s response was flat… like he had been expecting such a suggestion from her. “You always vote for killing them.”
“Because it’s always the sensible thing to do and oftentimes the merciful one as well.”
“She’s right.” If those words hadn’t just come from the Spinnetod’s mouth, Adalind might have taken a little pleasure from them. “Not because I know about the two of you but because, without my third kill, I’m already as good as dead anyway.”
Before Nick could respond or decide, his phone rang, and he stepped aside to answer it. He didn’t say much, but Adalind overheard that it was Hank, that Hank had struck out with his lead, and that he was on his way to where Nick was. For his part, all Nick told his partner was that the third victim was safe; he said nothing about the suspect, her fate, or whether or not Nick had been able to apprehend her.
Ending the call, Nick pivoted back around to her, though he didn’t reapproach. For nearly a minute, he just watched her, studied her, and then he nodded - just once. “Do what you think is best.” No matter what, the faith Nick was showing in her would have been momentous, but after their conversation about his Aunt Marie earlier that week, it felt… life changing. If nothing else, it certainly elevated their relationship, taking it to a new level. Adalind realized that this was the Grimm’s equivalent of her telling him the name of her other, Wesen partner. “Meet up later at Monroe’s to ask him for a reenactment of his tip call?”
“It’s a date,” she agreed, tossing him a playful wink. The movement made her long, fringe and diamond earrings dance along her shoulders, and she hoped the Black Widow noticed and envied her of them. Nick just shook his head in amusement and then jogged off, leaving Adalind alone with the still trapped yet now resigned Spinnetod.
It was probably the mention of her Blutbad friend which provided Adalind with inspiration for disposing of the suspect. Monroe’s modus operandi in dealing with spiders was to wash them down the drain and watch them squirm. If that method was good enough for Monroe, then Adalind didn’t see why it shouldn’t work for her as well. Woging one last time, she used her powers to mentally cut down the fishing net holding the Black Widow hostage. The Spinnetod and net dropped into the water below with nary a splash. Stepping to the edge of the boat, Adalind peered down into the dark, murky depths beneath her, watching as the Spinnetod slowly drowned. At first, survival instincts kicked in, and she struggled in the tangled web, flailing, and turning, and lashing out only to exhaust herself even faster. But, eventually, the fight drained out of her, and once it did, she just… stopped, the river’s small waves washing the spider underneath the water. Down, down, down. And then out of sight.