The Corpse Apple: Royalty 09
Warning: Blanket trigger warning alert. Touches on triggery content here and there. Nothing explicit though.
Author Notes: I make no claims of ownership of Grimm and its respective characters. This is not meant to impede anyone on the show their jobs. Am just playing with the characters like action figures and making Grimm work out for me.
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~Chapter Nine~
Ashamed that he's gotten lost in the castle's hallways- a maze for a wisp of a child like him- Sean prayed he'd find his way back to his room before he was discovered.
It's too dark to see and he found that strange- the low glow of the wall sconces were always on in the night and it scared him that they were not. Reaching out with small fingertips to touch the cold stone walls, he takes a step, but stumbles to his knees.
His legs itched and hurt. He knows without seeing that his muscular calves were pitted with tiny crevices. Felt the net of minuscule threads weaving itself among his muscle fibers. A clench of fear grips his heart and he grabs for his sidearm- only to find his holster empty.
Panic pushes him to hurry and move and he's trying to get up when a heavy hand slips under an arm and pulls him standing. The man grips a shoulder and the smell of antiseptic and something not quite sweet, not quite musk, stings his nose.
Without thinking, Sean swings a fist where the other's face should be but hits nothing. Tensing, he takes a step backward to fend off the retaliation he knew was coming- only to back into the hard wall that shouldn't be as close as it was.
Wake up.
He knows he needs to wake up.
A different hand gently patted his head.
Slipping small fingers between Eric's, he's being lead to his brother's bedroom again, into warm sheets and a comforting soft duvet.
The smell of delicate perfume with fruit overtones appears and Sean knows what's coming next. What came after.
A violent yank on his thin arm, nearly dislocating it-
-wake up, wake up-
-and even before he hits the lushly carpeted stone floor he's desperately trying to break the memory.
-it's still too dark-
The utter rage palpable in the darkness terrified him.
" …shh, Sean…"
He looks up, and Juliette stands before him with his gun…
… remembered that she nearly shot him…
… and Juliette aims at his chest...
Eyes opening, Renard coughs and sucks in a shaky breath.
Disturbed, he turns over onto his back and shivers at the chill. It's then he notices he's lying on the tiled floor of his washroom.
Stunned, he sits up and stares.
He had sleep-walked.
His disbelief is interrupted by a small tugging sensation in his hands and he sees a flickering wave wash across his wrist before vanishing, leaving his skin unchanged. His calves tingles, and he rubs them in distress, massaging the phantom pain of needle injections.
Leaning against the cold tub he worries about these bad nights. He's never been prone to nightmares. Or dreams. Now they were a regular occurrence and disturbing him when he's awake. Compartmentalization was getting burdensome but a shrink wasn't simply not an option for him.
Stomach twisting in turmoil, he makes his way to the faucet. The cool splash of water against his face did little to settle nerves or quell the nausea. He hated that memory. It was the moment the sense of security he found in his older brother became replaced with fear of his family's punishing disapproval. When he realized his father wanted him dead.
In the mirror, he watches his woge transform part of his face, studying the crinkled edges where rough disfigured flesh met smooth skin. Nothing has changed since the slow creep of transformation finally stopped years ago.
He didn't even come into his Zauberbiest heritage like a normal Wesen.
Bitterly, he wondered if he would have been better off as a full Zauberbiest. At least he could enjoy their power. He wouldn't even have to fear a Grimm's blood.
But no, ironically the Zauberbiest's advantage over their female counterparts meant he didn't have the choice of looking fully human either.
A fact he wished he'd believed when Eric told him. The blood was disgusting and did nothing except made him sick with stomach flu for a week. The mocking elaborate gift baskets Eric sent each day just rubbed salt into his wounded pride. With how miserable he felt he wanted that Grimm alive just so he could kill her again.
"…shh, Sean…"
Bowing his head, he frowns at Eric's voice. Tenses and twitches, reverting back. Takes a long slow breath, keeping his composure, focusing on keeping the cascading memories at bay. Remembering how his family believed the worst of him despite Eric's protests. Remembering how furious his mother had been, convinced it was Eric's clever ruse.
Tracing the uneven veins of the white marbled sink with his eyes, he blames Eric's recent needling for resurrecting memories from his childhood. Stirring renewed resentment towards his older brother, but still failing to squash the questions that followed.
Questioning if things would had turned out differently had Eric refused and insisted he returned to his own bedroom, leaving his tiny brother to huddle in the dark when the thunderstorm shorted out the lights in their wing. Or was their relationship always doomed to deterioration.
Renard ran a hand over his hair. Maybe a run around the block once or twice was in order. Certain that the skies have emptied their current load of rain, he pulls on a sweatshirt and a long sleeved pullover. Zipping a white iPod into a pocket and pressing the earbuds in his ears to dissuade stranger conversations. Leaving the gadget off. Only a fool assailant would think he'd hamper his hearing. Political instincts were already warning him Ken's presence will bring another round of scrutiny. It wasn't paranoia imagination either that Internal Affairs was watching him since Nick became a suspect in the deaths caused by the Mauvais Dentes.
He ties on his leather watch and plucks his rings off the bedside table. For a moment, he turns the gold band between his fingers.
Ken wasn't completely right. He did wear the ring to feign marriage. It helped discourage unwanted advances. But he also wore the ring because he planned to give it to whoever he wanted to pledge himself to.
He's about to walk out the door when his cellphone vibrates against his thigh.
It's Wu.
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Eric studied disinterestedly at the wood chess pieces, ignoring the lingering scent of bleach used to clean up the dead Resistance assassin's blood. From a different faction if they're sending another one so soon. Unfortunately the dead assassin attacked him as he was returning from his afternoon swordsmanship practice.
Picking up a dark rook, he moved it randomly to a light square, playing against himself because he was bored enough to test whether such an exercise would improve one's chess abilities. Annoyingly tedious the rules of the game were, but where there are rules, there are patterns.
He missed playing chess with Sean. His brother got so frustrated when he'd inevitably broke the rules before a conclusion could be drawn. Not that it wasn't obvious who would have won.
Sean won all their matches. So it was much more fun to deprive his brother the satisfaction of winning and watch him sulk.
Chin in hand, he finds he's not getting anywhere. Sitting back, he taps a folded sheet of cream paper. The memory of last night's pleasantries making him chortle. Quite an evening.
He's finished with his duties serving on the board of governors for the University of Vienna; overseeing the much needed expansion of the medical sciences and the long overdue addition of the hydrology division for the earth sciences department. Almost amusing that it hadn't created sooner, considering his family.
Opportunities opened and he's keeping a keen eye on everything. Looking to snap up any promising talent and adding new loyalties.
Such as finding new Hexenbiester.
Medicine and Hexenbiester often went together. Any Wesen physicians of reputable worth would make an effort to maintain a connection with one. And given how delicate such relations with Hexenbiester may be, business relations were often passed from generation to generation. One could usually uncover a Hexenbiest somewhere by tracing the physician's history. The difficult part was discerning the history of their lineage and what loyalties they still honored and how much they could be trusted.
But he's located a promising lead for Adalind. A Madam Klagen. One that was unlikely to turn her away for losing her powers, if only because she could appreciate having an opportunity to curry his favor.
It would also encourage Adalind to be more forthcoming if she thought there was a competing Hexenbiest willing to part with her knowledge. He's curious himself if it was possible to restore a Hexenbiest's powers. Rumors of Hexenbiester regaining their powers always turned out to be empty fairy tales.
A knock on the door to his study stops his reverie and he bades the man to enter.
… and he's decided that Sebastien should escort Adalind.
Because it amused him. Sebastien was a distant cousin in the Clerc House under the Marchand Family and a nervous sort of man. Sebastien was useful when he wanted legal things done properly. People tended to trust that he wasn't going to try anything underhanded. The man got too twitchy anytime he touched anything unscrupulous. Not useful to the Families at all.
No one would ever suspect Sebastien Clerc to be a spy for his brother.
His mother would be appalled that a member under her family was working with Sean.
He listened to his distant cousin shut the door quietly behind him. No doubt Sebastien will decide that it would be necessary to inform Sean that Adalind was looking to restore her Wesen side and that he was helping her. Eric still wondered how Sean managed to recruit and retain Sebastien's services. In the meanwhile, it was useful to know what information Sean was getting.
"A letter from the Verrat, and one from the University," Sebastien said, handing Eric two envelopes.
Confident it was a final appeal to get more funding next year for the biophysics division, Eric opened that letter first. Confirming the request was exactly what he thought it was, he pulled out a written note from a slot in his paper holder along with an unsealed envelope and handed it to Sebastien.
Sebastien didn't look at the note, used to Eric preemptively writing responses to requests he knew were coming.
Taking a letter opener, Eric quickly broke the black seal with the Verrat crest stamped into the wax.
"Well it took Danilov long enough," Eric spoke. "It's a formal apology for Mia Gaudot's intrusion into Portland." Sean really needed to handle his former lovers better, Eric thought. Pity his brother wouldn't listen to him. But he liked getting to tell him, 'I told you so.'
"Intrusion," Sebastien asked. "Sean Renard caught her trespassing?"
"Apparently, there were reports of Sean's Grimm working with a Blutbad and she was investigating." Eric kept his eyes on the letter, knowing the blanched expression that was on his cousin's face. "Yes, that is a worrisome problem for my half-Hexenbiest brother. Danilov is reminding me what happened the last time such a close alliance occurred." Eric smiled. Politics. "I wonder if he was able to get her to divulge information?" Eric decided giving time to let Sebastien call Sean with the news first. He was already displeased at having to notified Eric of the trespass. "I'll tell him later," he said airily, and began to pen a response to Danilov. "Deliver this in person."
Sebastien cringed. "Are you sure you want me to? We already saw each other today."
"Annoy him for me," Eric grinned at him. He knew how much Danilov disliked Eric using Sebastien as a courier. In turn, Sebastien found Danilov unnerving.
"Of course, Eric," Sebastien said weakly.
"Also, you'll be escorting Adalind Schade to a Hexenbiest at this address." Eric handed Sebastien the folded cream paper. "Give her this. Let her make the appointment."
"Is that wise?" Sebastien looked at him, obviously wondering if he was wrong in the head. "These are Hexenbiester."
Eric leaned back into his chair, increasingly amused at his cousin. He honestly couldn't predict how Sebastien would react to the knowledge that Sean was a Zauberbiest. Would he be horrified to discovered that he's been aiding a Zauberbiest all this time? Would Sebastien report it to him?
"Sebastien, one thing to remember about Hexenbiester is that they have a tendency to hang themselves. Just keep yourself from getting entangled in the rope as they go down." Eric laughed under his breath, making his cousin fidget.
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Nick got out, the slam of the car door too loud in the chilly dimness of the morning, annoyed at having to back out and nearly dinging another vehicle. He should have realized the long narrow street ended in a cul-de-sac when he passed Hank's Mustang among cars sparsely parked on both sides of the road that he assumed opened to another intersection. He would liked to park closer but the officers responding to the call would be there and he was likely to be in the way of the ambulance. Turning the corner he sees the worn Dead End sign blocked by branches and balefully steps over a swelling crack.
Corner houses got tax breaks and the owner should earn it by keeping up the trimming, Nick thought irritably.
Passing townhouses and single homes that he and Juliette wished they could afford, Nick quickened his pace seeing siren lights flashing. The streets illuminated with red and blue washed out by gray dawn. Nick scanned the area for anything out of place, his nerves already on edge from another unsettling dream. He hoped they weren't going to be a regular occurrence, but he's already resigned that it might come with being a Grimm. Wu did him a favor waking him, he thought as he turned to see Agent Takemori stepped under the yellow tape and repeating Nick's earlier surveillance.
"Hoping for a fight," Nick asked, nodding at Takemori's missing tie as they stepped towards the courtyard, the sound of flowing water from the fountain up ahead caught his ears.
"One more vic before they move on," Takemori responded as their attention turned to Wu striding past the ambulance, the flashing lights a welcome sign. It meant the victim was alive. "Ford and Gallardo are headed to the hospital."
"Erin Gainsborough. Thirty. Husband couldn't find her when he came down for breakfast. Woke everyone up," Wu started as he drew close without having to raise his voice. "EMTs are working on her. She's still out, but they expect full recovery."
They watched an Asian woman wheeled into the back of the ambulance, then a man with a crew cut climbing in. The wife stable enough that there weren't concerns having an extra person in their limited space.
"Who are they," Nick asked, referring to the small group standing close by.
"The Smiths and the Lockes. Friends of our vic. You would have passed the Locke's home further up the street. They were all staying together. Safety in numbers, they thought," Wu finished quietly.
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Despite complaints by emergency responders- including from his own department- the city planning committee hadn't passed a motion to renovate any of the problematic cul-de-sacs. Renard expected he'd be seeing another complaint on his desk. As he pulled up behind Nick's car he wondered if he'll finally be seeing one from Nick. Or Hank. Again.
The streets should have been widened and repaved years ago, Renard thought as he distractedly avoided a large crack that would trip a careless pedestrian. But the aging black asphalt meeting the bordering front yards and large old trees marking each property was charmingly rustic that the people fought for preservation.
Some of Portland's pipe infrastructure needed replacements before a major water main burst Renard remembered, noting a jittery handyman pulling off muddy coveralls and footsies, throwing them in a hamper among a tidy arrangement of equipment. Locking the van's back door revealed the Eisbiber's company contacts. There was a chance the Eisbiber might have seen or heard something but kept right on working in their single minded dedication to the job.
Renard tensed as the Eisbiber unexpectedly unlatched the wide wooden gate and scurried through, leaving the heavy door partially open. Following, unconsciously his hand rested on his sidearm, sweeping his coat open to keep his badge in clear view. The man's short brown hair bobbed behind a line of trash bins as the spool of drainer cables uncoiled, clanking against metal pipes.
The sound made his ears itch and he refrained from scratching. The Eisbiber didn't notice his presence yet and Renard concentrated on the man, ignoring the sudden nausea in his stomach. The timing of Rosalee's cure was terrible, he thought.
The gate quietly shut behind him and Renard whirled around. Vertigo tilted the world and he lost his balance as the itching in his ears turned into pain at the sound of a low, furious rattling. Wet gravel bit into his knee. He fumbles for his gun, determined to not drop it.
Black spots flickered in his sight as he looked up at a Wesen's dark face. He makes out a large pointed ear before a series of loud pops explodes in his head.
Dazed, he's gotten to his feet only to be grabbed from behind.
A rag covers his nose and mouth.
Holds his breath recognizing the peppery tingle of Ziegevolk oil, knowing he couldn't stop the absorption through skin. He tries to use his greater size to dislodge the man to no avail. Gray fingers tighten when he elbows his assailant.
"Sleep," hisses a man's voice.
The other Wesen shoulders him as his knees buckles, quickly dragging him towards the sound of a sliding car door. The engines starts and he realizes there's three before he passes out.
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