Out of the frying pan
Chapter 4

The Grimm Identity, Season 5 episode 1

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"Tell me, what do we do with witches?"*

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Baby Grimm calls! Adalind's joints screamed as she pushed off couch and waddled, bleary eyed, to the bathroom.

Bud's alarm clock buzzed.

She groaned and scrubbed her red eyes. Between the contractions, Baby Grimm head-butting her bladder, waiting for The Royals to kick the door down, and the endless rat-stravaganza, she barely got a single hour's sleep.

She shuffled back to the guest bedroom. A contraction caught her, her purse swung, and a clatter cascaded off the bedside table.

She cringed and jumped when the old bible hit the floor and flopped open.

Adalind's heart smashed into her throat.

"No!"

She bolted and barely made it past the corner of the bed when another contraction ripped through her and pitched her onto the covers. Her knees drew up into her belly, her eyes pulled open, and she gasped.

Adalind's mind flashed back twenty-five years. Picking up a Zaubertranke with her mother, from one of her mother's friends. Acrid smoke, reeking of bunt flesh and hair, hung low inside the house. There, in the middle of a sticky pile of charred hair and bones was an old bible, untouched by the flames.

"Don't look!" Her mother instantly took her by the shoulder and turned her away from the circle of melted carpet.

"Mom, what happened?"

"A bible? In a Hexenbiest's house? She had no business meddling in one of those. Never fool yourself about where our power comes from, or where it's power comes from. It's not safe for us here."

And with that, her mother pulled her back out the door.

There it was. Staring open at her.

She clamped her eyes shut, but muscle spasms dragged them open.

Please! No!

Cramps ripped through her and her arm flopped. Her fingertips dipped towards the page but she jerked before they touched. No! I'm sorry I didn't leave last night, I couldn't get out the door. I tried, I swear. Please!

Adalind gritted her teeth, fighting, as her eyes drew open again. The words on the page burned into her. It is hard for you to kick against the goads.

"Please. I'll do anything you want. I don't want to burn."

The cramps released. She yanked the pillow and blanket over her eyes and hid, sobbing and shaking.

I have to get out of here. Now!

Adalind pushed up to call Bud, but cramps drew her mouth shut and twisted her back towards the edge of the bed.

"No," hissed through her clenched teeth.

She dragged the pillow over her head and whimpered, "Me? You know what those things do to Hexenbiests."

The more she struggled, the closer her body wormed towards the edge of the bed. Exhausted and about to topple onto the floor, she cringed as tears trickled down her cheek.

Bud, I'm sorry for what I'm about to do to your house.

Adalind closed her eyes as her hand pulled itself along. Her fingertips brushed the page and smoke floated into her nostrils. Jolts sparked and bit as fire roared into her. She tried to jerk away as steam wafted off her arms and face, but her muscles clenched and the bible scooped into her hand.

White eyed from the searing pain engulfing her, she watched the worn book draw towards her face, locked in her white-knuckle grip.

She shook, trying to fling it loose as her skin and clothing shimmered. The ends of her hair started to curl. The pages untangled, but it would not release her.

A verse burned into her eyes, I know the plans I have for you, for good and not for evil.

Her fingertips sizzled. She grunted, wrenching her arm and the bible flopped closed in it's place on the bedside table, like nothing ever happened.

Adalind shot off the bed, rubbing her stinging arms, neck, and jaw. She swallowed, trying to get rid of the acrid residue coating her mouth.

She was on her feet now, fleeing the bedroom. Her heart raced as she rushed past the bathroom.

The front door was in her sights. Only a few more steps, and I'm out of Bud's crazy torture chamber hell. He seems so normal, but his place is a horror show. First being eaten by rats and then burned alive, what's next? Tears welled up. She rubbed her belly, I've got to escape before it's the death of the firstborn.

Bud appeared in front of her. As if using some sort of magic to calm her ragged nerves, he slid a cup of coffee into her hand, laid a warm hand on her shoulder, and sat her at the kitchen table. He headed back into the kitchen, chattering and fixing her a plate of pancakes.

The cup drew up to her lips. It's warm goodness flowed into her, soothing her trembling and slowing her racing heart. It's rich flavor washed the bitterness out of her mouth. The words replayed in her mind. I know the plans I have for you, for good and not for evil.

Plans for me? Good? I'm a Hexenbiest, and you almost incinerated me.

The jitters finally slowed as the coffee calmed her knotted stomach. She checked her arms and hands, expecting burns, but there were none. She poked and prodded her face, searching for blisters and singed eyebrows, but there weren't any. Somehow, even though fire roared through her body, she didn't actually burn.

Weird, I don't smell it on my hair or clothes. Maybe it was just a hallucination. He'll leave for work soon. I'll get in touch with Prince Victor and get out of here.

She slid her phone out of her pocket and gasped. It's pink case was warped and streaked blotchy brown and yellow. It's swollen screen was blistered and the buttons crumbled at her touch. She turned it over and the back was melted, bearing the imprint of her coat's fabric.

She gulped, dumped it into her pocket, and checked her face with her makeup mirror.

Bud materialized with a platter full of pancakes, syrup, and juice, but the baby had other plans.

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The next thing she knew, she was pushing in the delivery room when Nick and Rosalee showed up. Rosalee was fine, but Nick stank of sweat, exhaustion, stale coffee, blood, adrenaline, and... Chloroform?

She grabbed ahold of him and squeezed as hard as she could while pushing. It was like grabbing a stone, and Nick hardly reacted. Everything turned to a blur of pain, pushing, shuffling from room to room, an emergency C-section, and finally a baby boy laying on her breast.

Rosalee soon joined her in the hospital room. Things were different now, very different. The look on her face, her behavior, her attentiveness... Without saying a single word, Adalind knew.

Rosalee did not want her gone. In fact, the opposite - Rosalee needed her here, with the baby.

They talked and Rosalee grinned, holding the baby for a bit. Adalind took her son back, snuggled him into her chest, and drifted off for a little nap.

She awoke with a start as a flash of heat washed across her face. Her eyes popped open.

Rosalee was holding the baby, silently reading. She snorted. "How does anybody believe a story like that? There's no way they could have been thrown into a fire like that and they didn't burn up."

"Huh?"

"This story Monroe taught in Sunday school. It makes no sense. The king threw them into a furnace and they didn't burn up. It says the ropes binding them burned off but the fire didn't touch them. It didn't even leave the smell of smoke on their clothes or hair."

Adalind sat silently for a minute, and muttered, "I bet their cellphones didn't fare quite so well."

Rosalee quirked her eyebrow and chuckled.

Adalind continued, "They were on fire, but didn't burn? How did that happen?"

"It says God was in the fire with them, protecting them. See, look."

Rosalee flopped the book into Adalind's lap and turned her attention to the baby.

Fire coursed through Adalind as the words appeared before her eyes, on whose bodies the fire had no power.

Rosalee's nose wrinkled. She craned and sniffed. "Is something on fire?"

Adalind looked up from the bible, heat shimmering off her skin. Her teeth were gritted and steam puffed off her cheeks below her eyes, but she was doing her best to ignore the pain.

Molten plastic dripped off of the oxygen monitor clipped to her finger and a wisp of black smoke rose off it.

"Adalind?"

"I'm ok. This is an interesting story."

"Are you on fire?"

Alarms started beeping and buzzing.

"Oh!" Adalind flapped her hand and passed Rosalee her bible as the nurses rushed in. They went to work checking things.

The nurse unclipped the charred sensor from Adalind's finger and peeled it's smoldering residue out of her gown. She poked and prodded Adalind, checking for burns, but there were none. She tossed it into the trash, grumbling under her breath, attached new one, and brought Adalind some water.

Rosalee chattered and cooed the baby.

Adalind asked, "Have you ever heard of anything like that story? You know, in real life?"

"I'm pretty sure it's just an old legend. You?"

Adalind was about to say, Besides just now? but something stopped her. She muttered, "Hexenbiests aren't really much on bibles."

"Well, my family wasn't either, what with our business. Most people consider what I do in the spice shop witchcraft, but Monroe knows so much about this stuff. I'll ask him."

She sat there pondering as Rosalee laid her son back into her arms. She kissed his forehead and snuggled him in.

Rosalee said, "He really does look like Nick."

Adalind smiled and nodded.

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Nick walked in the door. He didn't say a word, but it was clear as the noonday sun. He was a swirling black hole of emptiness and pain, covered in the stink of murder, sweat, and stale coffee. His red eyes locked on hers, and then the baby.

She cuddled the baby and said, "I wasn't sure you'd want to be here. I don't know, maybe you don't want to be here, but at least, you are here."

She shifted the baby in her arms. "Don't hate me, Nick. We can't be like we were, for his sake. I don't want to raise him by myself. He's as much of you as he is of me."

"I don't know if that's good on either side."

"Maybe he won't be like either of us. I know I can't force you to be there for him."

"I will be."

"Wanna hold him? He won't break."

She slid the baby into his arms and felt the blinding ray of sunlight break through his endless darkness. She was Nick's life raft in his ocean of pain, and he wasn't about to let go.

"I thought of a name for him."

"Don't you think we should..."

"Kelly."

Nick paused, as if wondering whether to murder her or hug her.

She smiled as if to say, No, I actually mean it.

His expression softened. "Ok."

She watched him, holding the baby, as if all the pain and hurt were melting away and his mind locked on one thing: Family.

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*Monty Python and the Holy Grail