My troll is back, yay! What would I do without people giving me anonymous, so-called reviews, claiming that they have never read such trash than when they started with my Grimm fic? What would I do? Nothing! I would feel sooo bereft. And so I simply deleted what I call trash.

Seriously, guys! Don't like, don't read, don't review! Anonymously, to boot! Talk about being chicken. Anyway, sorry about the rant. People liek that really piss me off.

Now here's the next chapter.

X
XXX

She was gone within the week. Kelly had swept into her son's life, turned everything upside down, and then she was suddenly gone.

Looking for the coins.

Nick had given her the necessary information, explained where he had buried two – in separate locations – and where he had disposed of the third.

Sean had no idea what to think of her behavior, how she had come back from the dead all of a sudden to upset the balance between the wesen of Portland and their Grimm. He had had his hexenbiester and some not so well-known wesen keep track of her. Adalind and her sister had had a bad time keeping her in their sight, losing her more often than not. Because Kelly was good; very good. It had been her way of surviving.

But Renard wouldn't be who he was if he didn't have more than one ace up his sleeve. And the creature he had employed would have easily been able to kill the older Grimm, but that hadn't been the order. Observe, track, report back to the Guardian. It was all he had done.

Now Kelly was gone and while Renard felt relief, it had also impacted on his mate.

In a way he was relieved that they caught a case that took Nick's mind off things.

It was past midnight when Nick walked into his home, feeling tired, exhausted, and like he could sleep for a week. He hadn't seen his place for more than a few hours, mostly to sleep, in the past week. A seemingly straight-forward case had made a complete turn-around and turned into a back-breaking and mind-numbing horror. The discovery of a several bodies in different locations had turned out to be one gigantic wesen slave ring. Rehgleich, shy, timid and easily controlled wesen, were imported from mostly Eastern European countries to work as prostitutes or cheap labor under a tight and rather barbaric rule and horrifying circumstances. Whoever went out of line or was no longer useful was 'removed'. That meant killed.

Nick and Hank had seen more bodies in the last few days than the whole year. They had made progress, but the leg work and the stake-outs were tiring.

Renard had put whoever he could on the case and they were closing in. He was under a lot of pressure as well, the mayor breathing down his neck to find the killer or killers.

It didn't help that the one person in his life who had come back from the dead and made him hope for at least a little family life – as much as that was possible for a Grimm and for him in particular – had suddenly disappeared. Nick was still hoping that his mother had simply decided to take a few days, maybe lay low because of something, and would come back.

He was really hoping.

Sighing, feeling a slight headache, Nick stripped off his clothes and took a shower before he collapsed onto the bed. He hadn't seen more of Sean than what they had talked about on duty, and sometimes a brief phone call was what he had had throughout the day. He missed his partner, wanted to simply sleep beside him, feel him close, but their crazy hours kept them from even that.

Kelly wasn't gone for good. She had simply removed herself from the watchful eyes of the Guardian's lackeys and pawns. She knew the hexenbiester worked for royalty and he was that royalty, powerful but independent from the Families. That he had other, more secretive wesen under his command hadn't been far from her mind either. The unfassbar was one of them. If a regnant had an unfassbar, there might be more. She hadn't seen any of them or felt their presence, but she had known she had been under careful watch.

That she had only been watched had been another clue. Renard was carefully sounding out the waters, keeping track of her, keeping out of the conflict between mother and son and only establishing who the Guardian was by giving her a warning or two. Kelly was aware that this was as much as she could expect from him. If she upset the Protectorate any more she had no doubt she wouldn't see the unfassbar coming before he tore her apart.

So she had become a ghost again.

Her son needed her, even though he was well-protected, had a powerful partner at his side. She didn't like that combination, she felt sick thinking of the blutbad being Nick's best friend. It was unnatural! It went against everything she had ever been taught, had learned, or had experienced.

A blutbad! The best friend of a Grimm, his enemy! And a Grimm cooperating with so many different wesen, even a jagerbar who voluntarily taught him about things Nick should have learned from another Grimm!

Of course Kelly had tried to dig into that particular jagerbar's history, had unearthed many facts, and she had stumbled over so much more. It had blown her mind. And watching her son, seeing him so at ease with wesen he shouldn't be friendly with, who should be afraid of him… she had needed some time to think.

About Nick, about her own decisions, about what all of this meant now that she was forming a more complete picture.

X

The best way to do that was to find the first of the three coins.

X

She did within two days of starting her hike to the remote location.

X X X X X X X X

The place was called Under the Moon, a hip downtown club that had found its place in the basement of a large, bulky looking brickstone building from the last century or earlier. Its façade was stained a smoky black, the brickstone no longer brown but an undefined anthracite or black color, and the high windows with their ornamented frames were like black, empty eyes staring out into the city. It was three storeys high, the first floor windows barred against wanna-be burglars. The massive oaken door was wide open at the moment, releasing music and laughter, loud voices and the smell of a well-visited club into the night.

Renard looked up the impressive façade, then at the open door, which was guarded by a very impressive hulk of a man. People were milling outside, some looking hopeful, others bored. The hopeful ones were those who still had faith that one day they would be allowed to enter the Moon, the bored once were sure it was just a matter of minutes. Usually, neither had a chance.

He walked up to the door, nodded at the large man, and received a barely perceptible nod in return.

The inside was huge, but still maintained a cozy look. The Moon was raucous. Bodies were dancing to the beating rhythms drumming out of the loudspeakers. Everything was kept in a blue light, the strobes flashing over the undulating bodies of the men and women. There was a large stage at one end, currently empty except for a few select dancers, clearly not the usual run of the mill patrons. The DJ station was ensconced in protective glass and located slightly above the dance floor. A metal walkway ran around what could be a second floor of the building but what was actually the street level.

Whoever had constructed this establishment had done some remarkable architectural rearranging. You had to walk down a flight of stairs to reach the main floor, and up again to look at the dance floor from above – arriving at the first floor once more without being aware of it.

Renard maneuvered deftly through the masses that seemed to part before him without the dancers even becoming aware of their actions until he arrived at another door, again guarded by an impressive specimen. The man, though dressed in ripped jeans and a colorful shirt, still came across rather official. The earpiece and the concealed weapon added to that. Again he was allowed to enter without trouble.

The moment the door closed, the music was abruptly muffled, a soothing low volume to sensitive ears. Ascending another flight of stairs, he finally arrived in a studio-like room with a massive glass front that showed the entire dance floor level.

A few leather couches and chairs adorned the slick, crispy clean floor that was covered by a simple rug in one corner and bare throughout the rest. Glass display cases showed an assortment of strange knick-knacks. There were exotic looking objects made of glass, twisted swirls of color trapped in crystal, figurines made of finely spun gold, like skeletons of the real things, cheap looking, plastic-like toys that belonged more in a child's room than in here, and a few carved, wooden tribal pieces. All in all, it was a rag-tag collection that made no sense – to an outsider, at least.

"Sean Renard."

The voice was soft, feminine, but it held an edge. Renard turned and looked at the woman now entering the studio. She was tall, slender, of an athletic build, with shoulder-length black hair that she wore in a simple, but stunning style. Gray eyes, rimmed by mascara and just the right touch of coloring were framed by a narrow, tanned face. She moved with the grace of a cat. The woman wore blue denim faded jeans, with a low waist, boot legs, with frayed pockets and bottoms. It was a retro style jeans, expensive despite its faded look. A green round-neck, sleeveless t-shirt, featuring a Ben Sherman print all over showed off her figure, and the high-heeled boots boosted her a few inches.

"Fancy seeing you here, your highness," she said, looking Renard up and down in a very open, assessing manner. "Time becomes you, Guardian of Portland. You look good."

"The same to you, Diane."

She smiled, showing a row of brilliant white, even teeth that was every dentist's dream.

"Where did you leave your famous mate? I was hoping to meet the Grimm who has shaken up the community a lot in the last years."

Renard didn't answer, just raised an eyebrow.

"You always had a flair for the dramatic, your highness. Such a long abstinence, then you take a Grimm and establish a bond. Very dramatic."

Renard's face was a mask of politeness. "I didn't come here to discuss my personal matters, Diane."

"Of course not." Diane circled him, then walked over to on bare wall and depressed an invisible button.

The wall opened and a small collection of bottles appeared, ensconced in a glass case that Diane opened swiftly. She pulled out a bottle and filled two glasses. Renard took the offered drink but didn't taste it. Diane smirked and drank her own.

"Do you really think I would poison my Protector?" she taunted.

Renard placed the glass on a smoothly polished table. "I think you would do a lot for the right amount of money."

"Oh, cutting back to business again. Too bad. I would have loved to linger on pleasure."

Diane's face underwent a rapid transformation from sexy and inviting to brisk and business-like. She emptied the glass and licked her lips, though the gesture had little eroticism in it.

"Well, you and your little Grimm attract the exotic like a dead body does flies. You create new pools to play in, you create wesen networks." She smiled again, predatorily. "Well, your Grimm does. I was impressed. So are others. Many saw your move of protecting and nurturing the young Grimm as a foolish move, but you came out on top. You have made it to the top. You are respected, you have the community on your side. A lot of power. Powers others fear. You rule differently from the other royalty, your highness, and you know it."

Renard's face was still neutral.

"This is power others want. Something's happening out there, Guardian. Something big. It's growing, it's reaching out, and it's heading your way."

Sean's expression never changed. "Everyone has enemies."

"Of course. You, me, your lovely little plaything. But this one is bigger. It's not personal, it's all-encompassing. It follows no clear path, but you have crossed its way several times before."

Diane contemplated the empty glass in her slender fingers, then dipped one index finger inside and licked the syrupy liquid off her pad.

"You asked about the new Grimm in your town. Well, she came here by night, undercover, without leaving a trail to follow. My people kept an eye on her, just like you asked, and we tried to find out where she was. I can only tell you this much, Guardian: her path was lined with bodies. She is carnage and death and darkness. She is followed by the Families' hunters."

"Where was she last before coming to Portland?"

"Germany."

Renard let no emotions show.

"And her death toll was massive. Her name is unknown, her place within the community non-existant. She is a rogue, my Protector. I believe you know what that means for all of here, under your rule."

Renard's smile was chilling. "Yes, I do.

"Heed my words," Diane added. "She is one of those we fear, one of those we hunt no matter what before she kills us."

"I always do. Except when they were connected to sexual innuendos."

She laughed. "You know about sexual energy, Sean," she purred. "I know about the perfection that a Grimm and a regnant are. You are that perfection. Don't let him get tainted by the rogue."

Renard doubted that Kelly had that much influence on her son. Nick was also aware of a lot more than his mother concerning Portland and the Guardian who ruled it. He knew more about politics than your regular Grimm and the psychic bond allowed him an exclusive insight.

"Take care of him," Diane said, smiling widely. "He is a tasty morsel, as you already know. I wouldn't mind a taste of him."

Green eyes were cold, narrowing dangerously. She laughed musically.

"I'm not that suicidal, believe me."

"Should I?"

"I wouldn't cross my Protector. You know my loyalties are singular and bound."

Yes, he knew that. Once a nachträuber had sworn loyalty, the oath was valued until their own death. Sean knew what he had in these wesen, to which degree he could trust them, and Diane had been one of his oldest and longest nachträuber allies. She was highly dangerous, even to him, even more to Nick, but she would never go against her oath.

He turned without another word and left the club, the people again parting before him, and he stepped into the cooler night air.

Diane had given him a lot of information that, together with what Adalind had already told him, formed a more complete picture.

The Families wanted the coins; his Grimm had spread them, buried them, made them inaccessible. Nick was in danger as long as the coins remained where he had put them, but if Kelly took them away, if Renard let the rumor spread that they had been taken away, it made his city safer once more.

It would endanger Nick's mother's life, but it was a sacrifice he was about to accept. Nick was important to him; Kelly was an interruption, a danger, a rogue.

Sean knew he would probably end up fighting over his decisions with Nick again, but he didn't care. He was Portland's Guardian and Nick was his to protect. If Kelly leaving insured Nick's safety, he would gladly see her go and take the coins with her.

A small curl of hunger had him bite back an annoyed growl. Even now, so long after he had been under the complete influence of the damned relics, did the thought of their feel, their sight, their very energy have him lust for a renewed possession.

Deep inside something else uncurled, warmer, with more energy than the coins could ever have, and he reached for it. The point where the psychic link connected him to Nick pulsed reassuringly and he took strength from that. His Grimm was the only addiction he needed.