Chapter Four

Three days later, Monroe was in Hazel Dell, Washington, sitting in his Volkswagen outside the house of Pamela Folger. Terry's wife.

Monroe had spoken to her briefly on the phone the day before and made arrangements to meet. He had arrived early, but had been sitting in his car for so long that now he would be late. He would occasionally reach up and feel the wedding ring he brought in his shirt pocket. Right now, he was fiddling with his own wedding ring, rotating it on his finger. Monroe has had more than one close call with death over the years, but none haunt him more than the night he'd come so close to making Rosalee a widow at the hands of the Wesenrein. There was a large part of him that felt guilty that Terry hadn't survived and that it was essentially random chance that they'd chosen to persecute Terry first rather than Monroe.

He took a deep breath in through his nose, slapped the steering wheel in front of him with both his hands as he willed himself to finally get out of the car.

He knocked on the door and a few moments later a woman answered, she was white but with a dark complexion, as though she worked outside in the sun a lot, and dark brown hair. Short and petite, wearing blue jeans and a flannel shirt. She asked, "Monroe?"

Monroe nodded. He did his best to put on a friendly face, but it felt inappropriate to smile too broadly given why he was there. He extended his hand out for a handshake and felt stupid for doing so. What is the proper social etiquette for meeting the widow of a man you barely knew so you could deliver the wedding ring he begged you to make sure she received?

He decided that if he was going to feel awkward about it he may as well shine a light on it as he said, "I'm sorry, I don't really know how to act right now."

Pamela reached out and shook Monroe's hand and said, "I understand." She did her best to return a friendly expression, but Monroe saw that she too was struggling.

She invited him in and she directed him to sit in a chair and she sat on the couch next to it. She asked him if she could get him a drink or anything, but Monroe shook his head.

The two sat in silence for a moment when Pamela asked, "The man who told me about you, the Detective, I can't remember his name..."

Monroe told her, "Nick Burkhardt."

"Yes, that was it. Do you know him?"

Monroe nodded, "Several years now. If not for him... well..." He left the thought unfinished. Pamela nodded her head, understanding that Monroe would likely not be alive to talk to her now.

"Well," he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the wedding ring he'd been tasked with delivering. He held it between his fingers for what felt like an eternity and then he held it up so she could take it from him. As she reached up to take it, he could see her hand shaking just a bit. Whatever ability she'd had to keep her emotions at bay began to crumble as her eyes welled up. She Woged and Monroe saw that she's a Ungeziefer Greifer, a weasel like Wesen. He hadn't seen one since his trip to Germany. Out of reflex he also Woged, revealing his wolf like appearance.

His Woge appearance takes a bit of getting adjusted to for most people, Pamela startled a bit when she saw his face, but then her mood changed and she laughed. Through her smile and laughter she said, "Terry would always Woge out of reflex when I did. Scared me so much the first time. She relaxed and her Woge faded away. Monroe's followed.

Pamela stood up and walked over to the fireplace not far from where Monroe was sitting and placed the wedding ring on the mantel. Without looking back at Monroe she said, "It hasn't been easy. The house is so quiet all the time. Terry used to do a lot of wood working stuff. It wasn't his job, but he would make a few extra dollars here and there making a cabinet or end table or something. So there was often the sound of drills or saws or sanders or whatever other tools he would use. It used to bother me, especially the hammering. But now I'd give anything to hear him puttering around in the garage again."

She sniffed and Monroe could see that she was wiping at her cheeks and eyes. He wasn't sure what he should say or do. So he chose to sit quietly in case she was going to continue.

After she'd stop the tears from flowing she said, "Do you mind if I ask you why now?"

Monroe shook his head and looked down at the floor as he said, "I kind of expected you to ask that and I wish I had a good answer. Terry didn't tell me your name or even what his last name was. The brutal truth is that the memories still bother me a bit and I didn't want to confront them. So, it was really hard for me to ask Nick to help me locate you. I'm sorry it took me so long."

Pamela shook her head, "No, you have nothing to be sorry about. What those people did was reprehensible. Monstrous. It's understandable. I'm not sure I could be sitting where you are now if I were in your place." She paused for a moment and then said, "You're a Bludbad and your wife is a...?"

Monroe answered, "Fuchsbau."

She nodded her head. The information didn't make her feel any differently, but she was curious what Monroe had done to be kidnapped and nearly murdered by the Wesenrein. She asked, "So that's why they went after you?"

Monroe nodded and said, "In part, yes. It's difficult to fathom why anyone would ever care about anything like that ever, but especially now. It's the twenty-first century. I used to think that with time people would want to move on from stuff like that. But it's like, the more we try to move forward and be different or better, the more there are those that want to grab the reins and yank us back a few centuries. Even my own parents were against it at first. Thankfully they've come around and now we're a big happy dysfunctional family."

With unintended sadness in her voice, Pamela said, "You sound very lucky."

Monroe's eyes welled up a bit as his words caught in his throat, "Yeah." He wiped at his eye and said, "Sometimes I forget that."

His expression changed to puzzlement as it occurred to him that perhaps Pamela hadn't been so lucky. He asked, "Was your family not supportive?"

She shook her head. Wiping at her face again she said, "I can't be sure, but I think it may have been someone in my family that told the Wesenrein about us... about Terry."

Monroe was shocked, "That's despicable."

Pamela sat back down on the couch. After she made certain that Monroe still didn't want anything to eat or drink she asked what she'd been putting off since Monroe had arrived, "Do you know..." She had to pause. The question was too difficult to ask but she had to know. She'd had too many sleepless nights wondering. "Do you know... if he suffered much?"

Monroe shook his head, "I'm sorry, I don't know. I was chained up in a warehouse for hours."

When Monroe said that he was chained up, Pamela covered her mouth with her hands. It was too much for her to think about that someone could do that to another person for having committed such a trivial act as marrying the person they love. She felt terrible for having asked, "I'm so sorry Monroe, I didn't know."

She hadn't finished speaking before Monroe had brushed it off., saying, "There's no way you could have known. Most of it was kept out of the media."

Pamela had wondered about that and asked, "How did they manage that? Especially with it being a Wesen hate group."

Monroe shrugged and said, "Nick mostly. But also his police captain, he's a Zauberbiest. He was the one in the press conference. Between the two of them, they were able to put together enough to put those bastards in prison for a long, long time."

Pamela, not thinking much of it, asked, "What's Nick?"

Monroe, who had been somewhat avoiding mentioning it, repeated the question, "What's Nick?" He stammered for a moment and then finally admitted, "Nick... is... a Grimm."

Pamela's eyes lit up, "Oh, is he that Grimm I've heard about that formed the Portland Wesen Council?"

Monroe nodded his head slowly, he wasn't expecting a positive response. As far as he could remember, this was the first time he'd ever had anyone react positively to him saying Nick was a Grimm. He raised an eyebrow and asked, "Word about that has traveled up here?"

Pamela smiled and said, "Yeah, Portland is only about twenty minutes from here. We're not in the boonies."

Monroe felt a little foolish. She was right. A lot of people considered the area they were in to be part of the greater Portland region.

"Besides," she added, "word about the new Wesen Council is spreading like wildfire. I wouldn't be surprised if word has gone international, but it's definitely all over the country."

Monroe had been listening, but he felt she was perhaps being facetious at first. After a pause and the realization struck him that she wasn't, he exclaimed, "Wait, what?"

"Hello?" Samantha had been sitting at home having a quiet night drinking a glass of wine. Trubel was also there, eating from a bag of potato chips and going through emails on her laptop. When Samantha's phone rang, Trubel picked it up from the coffee table and tossed it to her so she could answer.

Samantha didn't recognize the number but answered anyway.

"Is this Samantha Gray?"

Samantha would have been very hesitant to answer in the affirmative under normal circumstances, but the person on the phone was obviously an elderly woman whose voice Samantha didn't recognize. So she threw caution to the wind and said, "Yes, it is. Can I help you?"

The elderly woman's voice was heavy with relief as she said, "Oh, thank heavens. Honey, yes, I am in desperate need of your help."

Samantha furrowed her brow, "What is it I can do?"

The woman continued, "My name is Florence Peacock. My husband's name is William, though most people call him Billy. But," Florence choked up a bit, "Billy isn't doing very well. We need a..." Florence's words caught in her throat again but then she finished, "...Gevatter Tod."

At those words alone, Samantha was able to fill in a lot of blanks. A Gevatter Tod, sometimes called, 'a godfather of death,' was the kind of Wesen that nearly all Wesen families have called on at one point or another. When a member of the family begins to deteriorate mentally and become a danger to themselves, their family, their community or risk exposing the secret of Wesen to the non-Wesen world, the families would call on a Gevatter Tod to painlessly euthanize the person whose mind was betraying them.

But understanding why she needed a Gevatter Tod didn't answer how Samantha could be the one to help. Before she could say as much, Florence explained all the lapses Billy has had in recent months. He'd gotten lost in the woods twice and he was caught trying to break into a house they hadn't lived in for several years, "He said his keys wouldn't work."

Florence took a deep breath and finished, "I think it's time," . She was very emotional about making the request but also steadfast in her conviction that there was no other choice.

"Ma'am," Samantha began, "I certainly understand why you need a Gevatter Tod, but I don't understand why you've come to me looking for one."

Florence was embarrassed, "Oh, I'm sorry honey, I forgot the most important part. We haven't had a Gevatter Tod in our region for over twenty years. We're in Abbeville, Mississippi. It's very small and very rural. Not many Wesen out here if I tell the truth. I can only remember us needing a Gevatter Tod twice in all all my time. But each time, we reached out to the Wesen Council and they sent one to us. I haven't been able to get a hold of anyone at the Council in months. Then I heard that you all had formed a Council out there in Portland, Oregon and I crossed my fingers that you'd be able to help us."

Samantha couldn't help but notice the contradiction that Florence is in a very rural location with few Wesen around but she still found out about the Portland based Wesen Council. So she asked, "How did you hear about us, if you don't mind me asking?"

Samantha couldn't see it, but she could just about hear Florence's eyes widen as she said, "I have a cousin in Pensacola, Florida. I called her to see if she knew a Gevatter Tod that could help us and she said she'd found out about you all and gave me your information."

Samantha shook her head. She knew it wasn't impossible that word of their Council had spread to other Wesen in the country, but it was still surprising to her.

Samantha made a quick decision, "Florence, our Council is less than a week old, we're still getting our feet wet and we only intended to be a Council for the Portland region. But I tell you what," she pinched the bridge of her nose already regretting making the offer she was about to make, "I will make some phone calls and see if I can find a Gevatter Tod for you."

"Oh thank you, honey, thank you so much. Anything you can do I appreciate." Florence hung up the line and Samantha looked over at Trubel who'd been trying not to eavesdrop but couldn't do much to not overhear what had just transpired.

Samantha said apologetically, "I'm probably going to be several minutes. I need to make some phone calls." It wasn't a question but the tone implied she was asking for Trubel's permission to leave her there to her own devices while Samantha made those phone calls. What Trubel was able to make out from Samantha's tone was, 'Please don't go, I'll be as quick as I can.'

Trubel nodded and smiled at her and said, "Take your time. I'll be here."

Samantha smiled and stepped to the kitchen to make her phone calls. She had family peppered all over the country. Maybe she would get lucky and someone will know someone who knows someone.

The following morning Adalind had received an email that was distressing her. She had rushed to get dressed and put her son, Kelly, in his carrier and rushed over to Monroe and Rosalee's. When she knocked it was Rosalee who answered. Monroe must be minding the spice shop today. Adalind stepped inside and asked, "Would you mind watching Kelly for a couple of hours?"

Rosalee had no problem babysitting, she was already watching her own triplets. Rosalee noticed that Adalind may have posed the request as a question, but Adalind had already sat her son's carrier down and set his diaper bag next to him before Rosalee could reply. Rosalee asked, "Is something wrong?"

Adalind stopped and said, "I have to take care of something at work. Something unexpected has come up."

Rosalee nodded her head. Adalind didn't bother to thank her as she rushed back out of the door.

As Adalind made her way into the building of the law firm she worked for, she didn't bother to remove her coat or acknowledge anyone as she passed by them. She didn't find who she was looking for in their office but got lucky and found them in the break room with no one else in there. She closed the door behind her and said loudly, "Megan!"

Megan, startled, turned around from the microwave she had been staring at, waiting for some cheap microwave dinner to finish heating up. A tall woman, broad in the shoulders, she often used her size to intimidate others. Her blond hair was a mess of curls and spirals. When she saw Adalind standing across the room with her arms crossed over her chest Megan couldn't help but smirk. She put on a fake smile and an even more fake friendly tone as she said, "Hello, Adalind. What can I do for you?"

Adalind uncrossed her arms. She wasn't nearly as tall and broad as Megan, but that didn't prevent her from marching up to Megan and looking up into her eyes as she said, "You can tell me why you think it's okay to poach clients from an attorney in your own office. The Drynard Winery has been my client for months!"

Megan, not used to being challenged, did her best to stand up a little straighter as she responded, "Let's just say that Mister Drynard felt a little put off by the company you keep... Missus," she paused and put emphasis on her next word, "Burkhardt."

Adalind had barely blinked since she made eye contact with Megan, "Perhaps someone made him aware that my husband is a Grimm?" The words were thinly veiled as a threat. Reminding Megan that she was facing more than one hazard right now.

Megan, upset by what she heard, Woged. Her Hexenbiest nature exposed to show a dried up corpse staring at Adalind. Adalind wasn't backing down though and she Woged as well. Her jaw reflexively clacking, her teeth scraping aggressively together. The two dried up corpses slowly circled each other in the break room. The door opened and a man on his cell phone attempted to step through without noticing what he was interrupting. Adalind flicked her wrist at the door and it slammed shut again. The man who'd opened it was pushed back out into the connecting hall, his back colliding with the wall. Adalind heard him shout an obscenity but she didn't care.

Megan spoke with as much venom in her tone as she could when she said, "If you want to marry a Grimm, that's your business, but we both know it's going to piss people off. If I can use that to benefit myself, maybe gain some traction at this company, I'm going to do it. So be prepared to lose some clients." She flicked her wrist and sent a napkin dispenser resting on a counter top flying towards Adalind's head.

Adalind didn't even have to look, she put a hand up and stopped the dispenser in midair. It hung there for a moment or two until she closed her fist and the container's walls folded in on itself. It fell to the ground with plastic pieces and napkins spilling out across the floor.

Megan hadn't been expecting Adalind to be so fast and powerful. She took a step back, but Adalind took two steps forward, grabbed Megan around the neck and lifted her off the ground. Even with the dried up corpse Woge face Adalind could see Megan was both surprised and concerned that someone so small was able to pick her up off her feet. She could barely breathe. She tried to flick her wrist at a couple other random items laying around, but Adalind stopped them with a simple waive of her free hand.

Adalind pulled Megan's face close to hers and said softly but aggressively, "You poach any more of my clients and you'll wish you'd never gotten a law degree."

Adalind released her grip and Megan fell to the floor, coughing and wheezing. As Adalind turned to leave, between coughs, Megan managed to say, "Threaten me all you want, but as word spreads that your husband is a Grimm, the only clients you'll be able to keep will be Kehrseite." Non-Wesen clients. The law firm they worked at certainly had some, but Wesen were the company's main focus.

Adalind didn't turn to react, she removed her Woged appearance, gestured with her hand and the door to the break room swung open. As she left she wondered if perhaps she was being too nice.