Mixed Messages
Chapter 20
Delivery Boy

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"I'm here to collect the girl," declared the red-haired mountain of a man standing before The Princess in the gold and silver crusted foyer. He wore a bored scowl, fidgeting side to side, and shuffling his feet. He said, "So, I'd like to get going, if you don't mind."

The princess looked him over, taking note of the thick callouses on his knuckles and the ill-fitting brown suit that looked like he kept it wadded in the trunk of his car, and said, "To whom do I owe the honor of your visit."

"Prince Maximillian sent me. He wants the girl."

Oh, so this is how it's going to be Maximillian? The Princess thought to herself as she put on her best saccharine smile, and said, "I'd prefer to talk business in my office, if you'll follow me. Can I offer you a drink?"

He politely nodded, trudged up the stairs, and through the carved walnut doors into her office, while she tapped out a quick text message.

She poured two glasses of brandy out of the crystal decanter on her desk and set one in his hand. She sipped hers while he watched, finally sipped his, and smiled.

He said, "The girl?"

"Please forgive my confusion, but this is the first I have heard of the matter. Maximillian and I have not spoken about this. I hate to waste your time like this. Can you come back once we have reached an agreement."

"I'm leaving here with the girl. So you either send her with me, or I take her."

"Tell me, why is he interested in this girl?"

"Honestly, I don't care. I'm just the delivery boy, and I'd like to get going."

"Did he tell you she's a Grimm?"

He simply shrugged, and said, "Doesn't matter. Whatever."

"And if I refuse?"

He lifted a marble bust of Aristotle off a carved rosewood pedestal, hefted it, gazed into it's face, and said, "We cannot learn without pain, eh."

He squeezed and crackling echoed from his square hands. Broken chunks and dust dribbled and bounced onto the floor. He wiped the chalky residue on his rumpled pants, and said, "I've never had anyone refuse."

A smile crept across her lips and her eyes twinkled as she said, "I'll fight you for her."

He groaned again, pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, rubbed his eyes, and said. "The prince won't be happy."

"Tell him I refused, and you had no choice."

She kicked off her red high heels, slid her feet into a pair of brown flats hidden under the desk, pulled a pair of basket hilted rapiers off the wall, and tossed him one. He caught it, laid it on her desk, crossed his arms, and scowled.

"I won't tell him if you won't, or would you rather I call him myself and tell him I sent you away, empty handed?"

"I have my orders."

She flicked the tip of the rapier across his sleeve, slicing it open. "Come on! Haven't you ever wanted to beat a stuck up, whiny, silver spoon in her mouth, insufferable bitch of a Royal to death?"

He poked his finger into the hole in his sleeve, and grinned. "Every single day of my life."

"It's not exactly like the families are in short supply, and I can assure you, no tears will be shed over me."

"I sort of got that impression."

"So Maximillian already gave you the orders to kill me?"

"In not so many words, yes."

She flicked the rapier again, this time nicking his arm through a second gash in his sleeve.

A hint of a grin creased one corner of his mouth, and he said, "Well, since you're challenging me to a duel, I choose the weapons."

He picked up the four foot tall, polished rosewood column the bust was sitting on, hefted it in one hand, sighting down it's spiral woodwork towards it's square base, and smiled.

"Your privilege, but admittedly, I'm not particularly honorable. I'm keeping the sword."

He laughed out loud, pulled off his jacket, tossed it into a chair, unbuttoned his sleeves and collar, tapped the column against his left hand like a bat, and said, "It's all the same to me."

He paused, leaning on top of the four inch thick column as if it were a mere swagger stick in his hand, rolled his meaty shoulders, and said, "I've always wanted to do this."

She raised the tip of her sword, crouched into position, and lunged, thrusting at him. He twisted, dodging her thrust, and kicked the post with the side of his foot, catching her fully extended, and slinging her backwards across the room, crashing into the wall behind her desk.

She hit the floor in a shower of plaster. She gasped and scrambled on all fours as he heaved the column like an axe, smashing her desk in half, and pelting her with a cloud of rosewood splinters, paperwork, and office supplies.

He whirled the club through the desk and swung it sideways at her head. She ducked and thrust the sword into his forearm. He grabbed the shaft of the sword as if it was a twig, and kicked straight into her, sending her and her sword careening into wall beside the fireplace mantle.

He swung, shivering the mantle as she clambered after her sliding blade. She slung a fireplace poker at him, and he batted it away as if brushing lint.

She grabbed her sword and scrabbled to her feet. She thrust it into his raised elbows, and caught him in the bottom of his arm. He jerked, slapping her through the doorway into the marble lined hall. He yanked the blade out, laughed, and pitched it at her.

He twisted his head and transformed, growing another eighteen inches taller. His shoulders broadened, his muscles swelled, and his arms grew bigger than a normal man's legs. His face turned scowling and blubbery, covered with a sparse coat of curly red hair, and he roared.

She gaped at the Siegbarste and scrambled to catch her skittering blade. She barely got one leg under herself when a Louis XIV chair went careening past her head and smashed a marble bust of St. Augustine.

She pushed up and lunged back through the doorway at him, stabbing into his leg. He backhanded her, sending her sliding backwards on the white marble floor into a light blue column. The column tottered and a blue porcelain vase with white cherry trees dropped. She rolled to her feet, as the Ming vase shattered on the floor, and she charged back towards the office.

The ogre's laugh shook his swollen belly, as he smashed his shoulders through the carved doorway, now woefully undersized for his nine-foot tall frame.

She charged and stabbed the rapier into his stomach.

He grabbed her and tossed her like a ragdoll, then wrenched the carved lintel loose and threw it at her. It cartwheeled down the hallway, crashing more sculptures and paintings, before jabbing into a medieval mural of the Austrian countryside.

She pushed up to her knees. His booming laugh echoed down the hall. Her sword flew, bouncing down the hallway, and rolled to a stop against her wrists. She wiped the back of her hand across her nose and mouth, stood up, and trotted back down the hallway towards him.

She lowered her shoulder and dodged her way through a hail of blue and orange vases, small Chinese soldiers, and stoneware horses, deflecting as many as she could with her sword, but she shuddered as they shattered against her ribs and legs.

She parried his club and thrust into his chest, immediately hauling back as quickly as she could to avoid losing her blade yet again. He swung his left hand, batting her backwards, and he swung the column over his head, creasing the ceiling before crushing a dent deep into the marble floor as she rolled away.

She stabbed into his inner thigh, but he kicked her loose and sent her flying into the opposite wall. She crashed onto the floor, shook the cobwebs out of her head, and found herself face to face with Amanda.

Amanda pulled her to her feet, and the giant laughed. "Considerate as always, Princess. Prince Maximillian will appreciate your efforts to surrender the girl to me."

The princess pushed Amanda back, flashed her eyes gray, and said, "Go! Amanda, run!" but he tore an ancient tapestry off the wall and cast it like a net, snaring the girl.

Amanda transformed and clawed herself free, revealing her black mane and flattened feline features, and leapt straight at the ogre.

The ogre stopped, let out a booming belly laugh, and exclaimed, "Ha! Will you look at that. I've never seen a kitty cat Grimm before. She's so tiny and cute. Like a little elf!"

He snatched a lock of her mane, hauled her up to his face, and snickered with amusement while she slashed and kicked.

Amanda sliced her toes through her shoes and swung her legs, clawing into him, tearing and ripping at his arm and face.

He batted her with a huge open palm, rocking her like a bobblehead. He chuckled and said, "Tisk tisk kitten. You're a feisty one aren't you?"

Amanda shook her head, latched her claws back in, and started biting chunks out of his forearm. She sliced her hair loose, dropped to her feet, and ripped deep into his inner thighs while ducking between his legs.

He craned around backwards and reached, while The Princess lunged, stabbing thrust after thrust a into his chest and back.

Amanda hooked her claws in, climbed up his back, and ripped into his tree trunk of a neck.

He slammed and ground his back against a door jamb, crushing Amanda into the carved woodwork, while The Princess continued her assault, stabbing the blade into him. He tore the post off the door jamb and swung it, knocking The Princess twenty feet down the hallway, where she dented the wall and crumpled. He lunged, swinging the post over his head, crushing blow after blow into the marble floor while The Princess dodged, rolled, and scrambled.

Amanda jumped and clawed her way up to his neck again and started tearing. He swatted, knocking her to the floor, and snarled, "Oh, you're a nippy little kitten, aren't you. Well, what Prince Maximillian wants, Prince Maximillian gets!"

Amanda leapt and scurried back up the giant while The Princess lunged at him again, stabbing the sword through his arm. He snickered, and backhanded her, sending her careening and bouncing down the hall. He laughed, and said, "Well, well, well, a pin, just what I need."

He yanked the sword out with his left hand, and with the other, grabbed Amanda's head and ripped her free. He smashed her against a doorpost, and pounded the rapier through her chest. He grunted, driving the point completely through the carved woodwork and swung his fist across the tip, bending it over and locking her in place. He gloated, wagging his finger as Amanda struggled. "Now, promise me, kitten, that you won't go running off on me. The Princess and I have been toying around, enjoying a spot of fun, but I've got a job to do for The Prince, and I've got to quit loafing off or he will be cross. I promise I won't be but another minute or two."

The Princess smashed a jade dragon across his back and swung kick after kick into him. He swatted straight down, crushing her to the floor. He picked her up by the foot and flogged her against the wall, smashing through a gold framed painting. He grabbed her hair and swung her straight up, bashing her into the coffered ceiling, and threw her, like a rag doll, through a set of carved double doors, into another marble hallway.

He grabbed a bronze bust of Charlemagne and hurled it at her. It bounced, inches from her head, splashing marble shards into her face as it flew over her and careened down the hallway. He grabbed the carved column which had supported it and trudged towards her. He hurled another blue and white Ming vase, which crashed across her head, battering her to the floor.

She lay there, eyes swollen shut, drooling blood from her mouth and nose, and head ringing. She rolled over and gasped when a dark shadow blocked the light. She raised her hand, and her world went black.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Lukas sprinted up the stairway, hurdling the shattered columns and doors strewn through the marble hallway, while muttering, "No assistance is needed, my ass! You're supposed to be smart. You were educated in the finest schools in all of Europe. And, you know about Wesen. So, what could have possibly possessed you to pick a fight with a Siegbarste!"

He marched, shoulders forward, and snapped the triangular stock into place on the submachine gun slung over his shoulder as he sped through the broken wreckage which had formerly been part of a priceless art collection. He levered an orange magazine into place as he hopped over the shredded remnants of sixteenth century tapestries, ripped and torn Rembrandt's and Van Gogh's, mangled bronze sculptures, and shattered marble.

He charged ahead, bringing the gun to his shoulder when he spied the giant gripping a carved rosewood column over his head. At his feet lay The Princess, struggling to raise one arm.

The ogre bent his knees and flexed the muscles in his abdomen. The square end of the column bobbed behind his back, he hauled his elbows over, grunted, and swung it like a splitting maul.

Lukas yelled and squeezed the trigger of his orange gripped submachine gun. He leaned in and marched as it's choppy roar filled the castle. A ten-foot fireball belched into the gold-crusted hallway and a hail of orange streaks punched the giant's back. A waterfall of green empty cases clattered off the ceiling and opposite wall, jingling and rolling behind him while the princess shrieked and writhed on the floor under a shower of plaster and sticky red.

The giant's body convulsed, and his red-spotted white shirt tore into a red splash. His weapon crushed into the coffered ceiling, bringing a rain of plaster and carved trim-work down on his head. He shook his head, turned, and heaved his giant club at Lukas.

Lukas marched through the acrid, gray haze, dropping to one knee under the careening column as it smashed a crystal chandelier, crushed a gold sconce, and finally punched through the carved doorway behind him. He fired a second burst into the ogre, dotting the center of his chest with red.

The ogre roared and clawed at glowing orange specs shining deep within him, then coughed frothy red, spat and stormed towards Lukas, who snapped a new magazine in place, marched forward, and fired into the furious giant.

The ogre grabbed a bronze horse sculpture and lifted it over his head to hurl as Lukas closed on him.

Lukas dropped the magazine, stepped over a shattered replica of Da Vinici's David, and levered a third magazine home. The blocky submachine gun belched fire, pouring thirty more rounds into the Siegbarste's head and chest.

The giant swayed and his head bobbed. The bronze horse snagged in a crystal chandelier, twisted backwards, tore the chandelier out of the ceiling, and dribbled out of his hands. It bumped off the top of his head, rolled down his back, crashed off the wall, bounced once, and landed on the princess in a shower of antique crystal, eliciting frenzied screaming. The ogre stood, gasping open mouthed, and wiped a raw forearm across his glassy eyes.

Lukas, not missing a single step, dropped the magazine, instantly rammed a fourth home, and poured it into the giant from a mere three paces, shredding the wall behind him, and showering the writhing princess in a red hail of glass, plaster, wood, and marble.

The monster tottered and his knees buckled as he crumpled. He reached out, smashed a hand into the wall, and ripped a long gash out of the paneling as he keeled over.

Lukas stood over the beast, racked a fifth magazine in, and taking no chances, emptied it into the Siegbarste's lifeless carcass.

He turned his attention to the princess, trembling, battered, and caked with shattered crystal and sticky plaster residue. She jerked and shrieked when he touched her. He laid the palm of his hand on her broken cheek, and said, "Shhhh. I've got you."

He unearthed her from the tangle of wiring, glass, and bronze, checked her pulse and gently wiped her face. He felt her arms and legs, then started hoisting her to her feet, supporting her on his shoulder, wobbly and stumbling.

She winced and cried out when his smoking machine gun sizzled against her arm. She jerked, nearly toppling backwards, leaving a shred of skin stuck to it's shimmering barrel.

He caught her, scooped her off her feet, and carried her, woozy and rambling, to a room filled with white cabinets, a white Formica countertop, and a stainless steel sink. He laid her on a beige recliner bed, wiped her swollen eyes with a wet rag, and put the doctor and nurses to work.

Worry crossed her purple face. She tugged his hand, and mumbled, "Amanda?"

"Was Amanda involved?"

"The library. Go."

He set two armed Verrat agents on watch over her, then nodded and marched out.

Taking no chances, he levered another orange bakelite magazine into his smoking submachine gun and trotted towards the library.

He paused outside the door, listening, and then twisted through the doorway, covering the room with the barrel of his gun. Once satisfied it was empty, save for the girl pinned to the door jamb, he set his attention on her.

Amanda was still pulling and twisting against the sword, but her sticky hands slid, unable to gain any traction on the shiny steel blade rammed through her chest below her collar bone.

He laid a gentle hand on her battered face, and said, "Shhh. It's bent. I'll have someone up soon to cut you loose."

Her breath wheezed and crackled as she said, "I'm stuck. Can you get me loose?"

He examined the rapier, rammed through the door jamb and bent to lock Amanda in place. He wrapped the point with his coat, grabbed ahold, and pulled with all his might. The narrow blade started bending, bounced, and snapped at the bend, sending a shock through Amanda that brought a yelp and a frothy, red coughing fit.

She grimaced, motioned to him, and said, "Can you pull it out?"

"We have to leave it in your chest until we can get the doctors working on you, but let me see if I can get it unstuck."

They pulled and jerked, dragging the broken end one half an inch into the carved walnut. She winced as the red stain on her back swelled. Her breathing grew hollow and ragged, but the sword locked and would not budge.

"I'm sorry, Amanda. We have to get tools. Let me get you as comfortable as I can while you wait here with Matheo."

He found Amanda a chair and propped her up. He ran a hand through his short cropped blonde hair and called downstairs to the workshop.

He put Matheo, a Verrat agent, with Amanda and rushed back down to The Princess.

He marched into the infirmary and stopped short, peering suspiciously at the middle aged, black haired woman berating the trembling doctor and nurses. He narrowed his eyes, firmed his grip on the submachine gun, and said, "Antonia?"

The woman turned, revealing her porcelain smooth skin, flawless complexion, and silky hair draped against a black Armani skirt suit. She crossed her arms, and said, "Lukas! What sort of mess are you dragging my princess into? And what are these clumsy oafs, who call themselves doctors, doing to her?"

He shifted the gun towards her and scowled.

She twisted her head, transforming herself into a mummified witch corpse. She ground her spiny teeth and barely twisted a curled finger, telekinetically shifting the gun's muzzle away from herself, while he stiffened and wrinkled his face in anger and disgust.

He said, "Antonia, let the doctors do their work. Her Highness decided to fight it out with a Siegbarste. She would be dead if I hadn't intervened."

"Lukas!"

"She said she didn't need me."

"And you know her better than that. It is the professional's job to keep a foolish and overly confident princess from getting herself murdered on your watch. Her father would have your head!"

The princess straightened, touched Antonia's arm, and mumbled, "Antonia, I told him to stand down."

"That is no excuse. This is on his watch. Do you think anyone will care what you told him? And you, young lady, should know better by now. Lukas is not here to rescue you from yourself. Now get them out of the way so I can get to work."

The bony witch pushed past the trembling doctor and nurses and extended her fingers, like brown spider's legs, onto The Princess's cheek. She ground mummified jaws as her fingers slinked and crept towards The Princess' eyes, blood crusted and swollen shut. She squinted her hollow, shriveled eyes and worked her bony fingers into the princess's blood blistered eyes. White and blue started returning as the crimson dissipated. Her hands crawled downward and the princess's nose shifted back into position. The deep cuts over her eyebrows and the bridge of her nose knitted and disappeared, while Antonia muttered about being up all night.

An hour later, the Verrat agent carried an incoherent Amanda, sword still stuck through her chest, into the infirmary. Red froth slowly crackled out of her mouth onto her pallid skin and her head lolled.

The Princess pushed Antonia's bony fingers out of her mouth, and said, "Please, I need you to attend to the girl."

Lukas butted in, "Your highness! Amanda needs proper medical attention, not Witchcraft. We need to get her to the hospital immediately."

Antonia laid a mummified hand against Amanda's chest and scowled at him, "Proper medical attention, he says! The girl will be dead before you get her to the hospital."

He gritted his teeth, and hissed, "And at what price?"

She smiled and wrapped her spidery fingers around his arm and pressed the exposed bone of her thumb into the crook of his elbow. She twisted her jaws, revealing spiny teeth through the missing gap in her dried lips. She closed her eyes, slowly inhaled through her nose, and said, "Lukas, you know my price."

He bristled and jerked away, glaring at the ancient witch, and finally grunted, "A dead Siegbarste?"

She transformed herself back into human form and turned up her nose. "Ugh, heavens no."

Lukas rubbed his forefinger and thumb in his eyes and groaned.

Antonia wiped a hand over her hair, straightening and smoothing it. She peered at the doctor and nurses, rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and said, "Come on, bring her to the kitchen and set her up on a table. Our so called 'medical professional' here can prescribe ice and aspirin for the princess while I sort out this girl. I'll need a nurse to help me prepare supplies."

Both nurses jerked straight up and stood like stones, inching backwards towards the cream colored door. She pointed at one and said, "You look competent enough to boil water and sterilize some knives. Come on, let's get on with this."

All the color drained out of the nurse's face. She pulled up straight and winced her eyes while the other exhaled and relaxed.

Antonia pointed at the three Verrat and said, "Well? Come on. Get her down to the kitchen."

They gulped, nodded, and hoisted Amanda's limp body.

The Princess laid a bruised hand on Antonia, and said, "She's a Grimm, so watch out for her blood."

Antonia stopped in her tracks, resolutely waved her hand, turned towards the door, and said, "No. No Grimms,"

The princess caught her arm, "Antonia, please."

Lukas blurted out, "You can't be serious! Look at her, we need to air lift her to a hospital. Now!"

The princess tilted her head at Lukas, who simply rolled his eyes. His phone was already in his hand, in the middle of dialing, when she laid her hand on his arm.

The princess continued, "Antonia, she's only a child, barely fourteen years old."

Antonia stared out the door of the room filled with white cabinets and medical equipment, into the shabby service hallway. She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes.

"She was trying to save me from the Siegbarste."

Antonia scowled at Lukas and said, "Well, at least one person was trying to help the princess."

Lukas gritted his teeth and opened his mouth to protest, but the princess stopped him.

Antonia groaned, looked into The Princess's begging eyes, and sighed. "Fine."

She caught the arm of the white eyed nurse slinking towards the door, and said, "Come on now, dear, we'll have such fun. When was the last time you shared a room with a Shtriga and a Grimm?"

The woman stiffened, like a board. Tears welled up in her red eyes as white faced terror consumed her. She transformed herself, revealing the red and white fur and canine features of a Fuchsbau. Amanda muttered something and her head slowly rolled around. The nurse's gaze locked onto Amanda's eyes and she gasped at the sight of her own furry reflection floating in their black abyss. She stood motionless, staring, and quietly moaned, "No, no, no. A Grimm." Amanda's eyes rolled shut and the nurse bolted out the door.

Antonia turned her glare towards the men supporting Amanda, and said, "I swear, medical help these days is useless. Useless! Well, you three will have to do. Hopefully, at least one of you knows how to boil water."

They stiffened and backed up.

"Now! Before you oafs murder this poor girl!"

They glanced at Lukas, who nodded and waved them away. They gulped and carried Amanda to the kitchen.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The girl laid, wheezing and gurgling, on a stainless steel counter top in the castle's commercial kitchen. A black haired man held the basket hilted rapier steady in her chest while a second boiled pots of water and collected rags. The third rummaged through the drawers.

Antonia mixed various liquids and herbs into a stock pot, stirred, and finally ladled spoonfuls of the viscous mixture over her arms. The liquor quickly turned into a rubbery coating, sealing her skin. One of the men peered, quizzically, while Antonia muttered, "I can't be too careful, can I? Now, please tell me you've found a sharp knife?"

The man grimaced, shook his head, and muttered, "all dull."

"Well, then? What about you three, aren't you carrying a good knife? Certainly one of you must know how to sharpen a knife?"

Their eyes twitched as they glanced at each other.

"Come on, get them out."

They slid knives out of their pockets. She tested each one and cast them on the table, disgusted. "What sort of men are you, hauling around knives that could barely mangle warm butter. What do Wesen teach their boys these days? Next, you'll tell me you can't even catch a live rabbit."

She paused, rubbed her chin, and said, "Check the girl's pockets."

They patted her down, rummaged, and fished out two automatic knives. She tested the edges, smiled, and laid them on the table beside her. She winked at them, and said, "Well, at least you can count on a Grimm to keep a good edge."

She transformed herself into an ancient witch corpse. The men gasped and slinked away. She ground her spiny teeth, caught the last one on his way out the door, and said, "Come on, we've got work to do. I'll calm her down while you pull the sword out. I've got to get my hands into her chest to stop this bleeding. Ready?"

His face turned white as he wrinkled his nose and stared out the door.

She winced her eye sockets and extended one desiccated finger towards the floor next to her.

He closed his eyes, dropped his shoulders, exhaled, and finally nodded. He grasped the sword while she held a bony hand to The Grimm's head, narrowed her withered eyes, and said, "OK, now."

The man wrenched the sword out of the girl's chest, and she gasped, jerked, and coughed.

Antonia focused her powers, pressing against the girl's face, and she settled, laying back down. She gripped a black automatic knife, flicked it's blade out, and plunged it into into the girl's chest, slicing a pathway. She crept her bony fingers inside, and once past her wrists, started worming them around. She concentrated, winding in and out of tissue within the girl's chest, sealing the severed veins and arteries, regrowing alveoli and bronchioles, and repairing the holes in her lungs.

The lights flickered and buzzed. Antonia caught a subtle purple glow in the corner of her eye. She paused, peering, but found no one in the empty room. She groaned, "Of course, they always scatter the instant I look away. They're all the same. Child, you took quite a beating from the beast, didn't you. We'll get you fixed up."

The girl gasped, jerked, and popped her eyes wide open, revealing jet black orbs, while the sharp toothed witch corpse pulled, twisted, and rummaged inside her chest.

Antonia froze, standing like a statue, gazing at her own mummified reflection floating in the empty black depths of The Grimm's eyes, and considered her options, given that both of her hands were buried inside The Grimm's chest. She held her breath and waited.

The Grimm smiled a lazy smile, rubbed her hand on the her bony arm, relaxed, and laid back down.

Antonia slowly exhaled, looked around at the empty kitchen again, and listened. Silence enveloped her, and she swallowed. She looked at the young girl's battered face, groaned and continued working, while the girl smiled and gently massaged her arm.

The lights flickered again and the hazy purple glow reflected off the stainless refrigerators. Antonia's gaze scrutinized every shelf, counter, cabinet, and bin, and found nothing. She exhaled and continued sealing the wounds inside the girl's lung.

The Grimm turned her head, opened her eyes, and smiled a lazy smile. Antonia caught the pinkish reflection of a young, blonde haired girl floating next to her own in The Grimm's black eyes. She froze, waiting for her eyes to close, and finally craned, surveying again, but the room was empty.

The lights flickered a third time, and Antonia asked, "Are you here to help?"

Nothing answered except the echo of her own voice.

Once finished inside the girl's chest, Antonia inspected her face and groaned, "Poor thing."

She focused her eyes and spidered her bony fingers across the girl's face, repairing the broken nose, black eyes, and sprouting two new teeth. She crept her hands all around the girl's skull, gently squeezing, pressing, and sensing for a concussion. Satisfied, she turned her attention away from the resting girl and started washing up.

She leaned her weight against the stainless steel sink after pushing her magic for the better part of four hours straight. She turned the sink on, allowing it's warm water to wash over her arms as she dreamed of soaking her weary body into a steaming bath. She winced at first, as the hot water ran over her sore fingers. She flexed her hands, working the aching stiffness loose and then massaged her forearms. She glanced at the wall clock, 1:30AM, rubbed her hollow eye sockets, and yawned. She checked to ensure all the green sealant was scrubbed off, and found a dry towel. She ran bony fingertips through her matted gray hair, stretched her arms above her head, and her stomach growled.

Rustling scraped behind her. She whirled around to the empty table and gasped. She stared straight into the jet black eyes of a Grimm mere inches away. She froze, not moving a single muscle, waiting, and watching her own sharp toothed reflection float in the bottomless blackness.

The Grimm lunged at her, but, after hours of pushing her magic into the princess and then the girl, she was too exhausted to fight. Unable to escape, boxed in by the sink, countertop, and dishwasher, she closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and prayed for a quick end.

Arms closed around her, squeezed, and rumbling vibrated on her chest.

Antonia craned her head backwards, opened one shrivelled eye and found The Grimm's arms wrapped around her and a mound of curly hair resting on her bony chest. The vibration rumbled through her chest again, and she realized the tiny girl was purring. She reached a mummified arm around the girl and patted her on the back, and finally laid her arm on her shoulder. The coppery scent of fresh blood wafted off the girl's body and hair. Her spiny teeth extended, her shriveled tongue salivated, and her stomach rumbled. She steeled herself, No! You know what that would do to you.

The girl rubbed her head on Antonia's chest, and said, "Thank you so much."

Antonia transformed herself back into her human form. Her face now showed fine lines, crows feet, and red circles around her eyes. Her skin was sallow, and her hair was frizzy with shocks of gray. She tentatively petted the girl's back, and focused on the girl's thoughts, wondering. She said, "You're welcome. So, you have seen a Hexenbiest before, then?"

"My step mother and sister are Hexenbiests. They fixed me up the last time."

Antonia paused, touched the side of the girl's head, and focused her eyes. "Mmmm. Yes. I can feel their magic on you. So, how did a Grimm end up with a Hexenbiest step mother and sister?"

The girl shrugged, turned towards the refrigerator, and said, "She is my father's wife. I'm really hungry. This always makes me so hungry. Do you know if there any food in here."

Antonia pondered the girl's answer as she shuffled through the refrigerator, digging out some salami, cheese, bread, and milk, then asked, "Is your mother a Grimm, then?"

The girl started stuffing food into her mouth. She finally paused long enough to say, "No, my mom is Lowen."

Antonia rummaged into the refrigerator. She found some black sausages and a green thermos jar with a fancy monogrammed red "A." She hefted the thermos and swirled it. She started eating and gulped from the thermos, emptying it. She exhaled, relaxing, as white started creeping over the yellow in her eyes. She savored the flavor for a moment and allowed a bright smile to erupt, revealing red stained lips and teeth.

Color started returning to Antonia's face as she ate. Her skin smoothed and the wrinkles started to dissipate. The gray streaks in her hair disappeared. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, transferring a crimson stain, and said, "A what? Did you say you are Lowen and Grimm, with a Hexenbiest step mother?"

The girl nodded.

"And this Hexenbiest sister, is she part Grimm, as well?"

"Not really. She said she was born with 'the blood of a Grimm' from my father, but he isn't her father. The princess said my sister was her sister."

"Your Hexenbiest sister is the princess's sister, and she was born with the blood of a Grimm?"

"I guess. That's what The Princess told me. She said my sister is her father's other daughter."

Antonia stared off into the stainless steel shelves, gazing past noodles, potatoes, and onions, as she wondered at what should be a ridiculous lie about an actual Grimm and Hexenbiest family possibly existing somewhere, except this young Grimm did, in fact, arrive with Hexenbiest magic on her. She paused, watching the girl wolf down everything in front of her and wash it down with huge glasses of milk.

She took the opportunity to sense the girl's thoughts and emotions. Hmmm, this Grimm is the only person in the entire castle, besides the princess, who doesn't hate Hexenbiests. Rather the opposite, this girl doesn't think I'm some disgusting abomination like everyone else, she trusts me. She claims the princess told her that they were sisters. Perhaps there is an opportunity here... I could use an ally in the castle.

"I don't believe we have been formally introduced. I am Antonia Strakosja, the princess's assistant."

The girl smiled, and said, "I'm Amanda Prentice."

"Well, Amanda Prentice, it's very good to meet you."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The doctor finished reading The Princess's X-rays, flipped through his notes, and said, "Your Highness, I suppose there is good news, given your ordeal. You only have two broken ribs. You have plenty of sprains and deep bruising, but for now, it doesn't look like anything worse." He packed her with ice, handed her a bottle of painkillers, groaning when she insisted on a rib belt, and released her with instructions to return in two days, once the swelling went down.

She brushed her matted hair out of her eyes, and winked at Lukas. "When are you going to upgrade that dinosaur of a gun."

He chuckled and his eyes sparkled as he answered, "With all due respect, your highness, this hardly seems like the time to lecture me about my Krinkov."

"None of the other Verrat carry one. There are more modern and compact platforms. That old thing is hardly ergonomic."

"You know I've been carrying one since I was fourteen, in Bosnia, and it has never failed me. Not then, not in Chechnya, Ukraine, Georgia, or Kyrgyzstan, and not today."

"Ah, yes, your old pair of shoes."

"The Siegbarste did not get away from me."

"I knew he wouldn't."

"So, why on God's green earth would you text me 'everything is fine, no assistance is needed.' And then you decided to fight it out with one of those beasts?"

She paused, pressing ice against her head, as her entire body throbbed. She coughed, gasped, and gripped her chest, then said, "Admittedly, not one of my better decisions."

"You know you don't have to prove yourself like this, not anymore."

She winced and groaned as she pushed up, out of the bed. She wobbled, grimaced, and tears welled up in her eyes. Her elbows trembled until they folded and she slumped back onto the bed. She brushed her hand on his bicep, leaned towards his ear, and whispered, "Lukas, would you please stay with me tonight."

He brushed his fingertips across her bruised cheek and she closed her eyes, smiling as she pressed her face against his palm. He lifted her to her feet, supporting her on his shoulder, then glanced around. He whispered, "Yes, of course, Amelie, but you know we can't make a habit of this. Your father has made that clear."

She stumbled, resting her weight on his shoulder, and pulling in closer to him. She pushed her forehead against his, and mumbled, "I am a grown woman and my father is three thousand kilometers away."

She took a step towards the door, leaned her head against his, and whispered, "Thank you, Lukas."

-/-/-/-/-/-

AN:
A Shtriga is a vampire witch from Albanian folklore. For the purposes of this, she falls within the Hexenbiest universe. Hopefully, I gave enough clues that you already figured it out without this footnote. ;)

6.8k 2/12/21 r1