Chapter Twelve

A/N: Trigger warning for nonconsensual drug use with a modified version of Rohypnol with a needle. This will happen near the end of the chapter. FYI.


Awareness slammed into Nick all at once, causing him to sit bolt upright. A startled curse erupted beside him, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Nick looked around wildly, his heart racing. It took his brain several minutes before he began to register his surroundings.

He was in a queen-sized bed, on top of a navy and silver-colored duvet. A matching set of curtains framed the window opposite him, the window telling Nick that night had fallen.

"Warn a guy next time, would you? I think I almost had a heart attack!"

Nick turned his head and watched as Barry Rabe gingerly picked himself off of the floor. "Barry?"

Barry righted a navy wingback chair and adjusted a dark-wood tray beside it. Scooping up a magazine, he dropped it on the chair and folded his arms over his chest.

"Do you always wake up like that?" he asked, a scolding look on his face.

Nick looked around the room again, as if a second examination would yield different results. "Where am I?"

Barry dropped his arms, his expression softening. "In one of our guestrooms," he answered. "Officer McKay brought you here."

The simple statement uncorked a flood of memories. The meeting. The Vertrauentrank. The shooter.

Renard.

Barry had continued talking, oblivious to Nick's distress. ". . . an eye on you since the zitronepulver wasn't supposed to knock you out . . ."

Nick tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed, finding a residual weight pressing on them.

". . . let my dad and Officer McKay know you're awake . . ."

Nick forced himself onto shaky legs and stumbled to the door, ignoring Barry's pleas to wait.

It had been some time since Nick had last been in Frank's house- crazed visit to demand an audience with Portland's prince aside- but Nick had no problem finding his way to the stairs.

A hand wrapped around his elbow, steadying him. "At least let me help you," Barry admonished, helping Nick descend the staircase.

By the time they reached the bottom, the strength had returned to Nick's legs. He gently withdrew his arm from Barry's grip but dutifully followed him through the house.

Frank and Mac were speaking quietly at a small table in the kitchen. Both looked up in surprise as Nick and Barry entered.

"Nick," Frank greeted, standing. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Nick replied shortly. "Renard?"

Frank and Mac glanced at each other.

Dread sprouted in the pit of Nick's stomach. "He's not . . . ?"

"No," Mac replied quickly. "No, he's still in surgery. It's only been about an hour; Danni said he'll be in there for a while yet, but that the doctors were hopeful."

Nick had no idea who Danni was, but the news about Renard's continued survival sent a wave of relief sweeping through him.

"Here." Frank stepped forward and gently steered Nick to a vacant seat at the table. "Let me get you some coffee. That'll help you shake off the rest of the pulver."

Barry moved to join his father by the coffee, the two conferring quietly. Nick frowned at Mac.

Mac met the frown evenly. "Don't blame me for the zitronepulver; that wasn't my idea."

"You didn't exactly stop her," Nick pointed out.

"The Prince was very clear in his orders regarding my assignment," Mac replied. "My priority is to be your safety."

"Except I wasn't the one in danger," Nick argued.

A mug was placed on the table before Nick.

"We don't know that for certain," Frank stated, claiming his chair once more. "The Huntsman could have easily targeted you tonight. It was sheer happenstance that the Prince presented a target too tempting to pass up."

Nick wrapped icy fingers around the mug of coffee, savoring the heat. "What about protection?" he asked. "Renard will be vulnerable in the hospital. The Huntsman will be able to finish him off."

Mac shook his head. "We've got the hospital covered. The Prince's personal physicians are the only ones permitted to work on him, and his guard has taken posts all over the building. I'm not saying the Huntsman won't try something, but he'll find that it won't be quite so easy."

"In the meantime, we need to work out our next steps," Frank added. He gave Nick a searching look. "Did his highness speak with you about the bond?"

Nick nodded, one hand reflexively going into his pocket and pulling out the note Renard had given him.

"Good," Frank said. "At least he managed to explain that much. Have you considered it?"

"I literally found out tonight," Nick retorted, pocketing the slip of paper once more. "I haven't exactly had the time."

"If I were you, I'd make the time," Frank said, not unkindly. "This isn't exactly something you can take back. This is a bond that will affect every wesen in Portland, and it's permanent. If you don't feel equal to the task, don't do it."

"Not exactly instilling me with confidence," Nick stated.

"Don't misunderstand me," Frank said. "My views on the bond have nothing to do with my confidence in you. Do I believe your bond to the Prince would benefit all of us? I do. But that's not my decision to make. You must be committed to each other and the people of this canton, or it will destroy you. The Prince has made choices that have hurt you in the past; he doesn't deny that. But if you accept this bond, you're going to have to find some way to forgive him."

Resentment swelled up in Nick. He opened his mouth to reply but stopped when Frank held up his hand.

"Is it unfair?" he continued. "Yes. Cruel? Maybe. But that is the reality of the situation. So really think about your options. Do not accept the bond unless you are one hundred percent committed."

Nick met Frank's stern gaze, then slumped in his chair. He nodded and took a sip of his cooling coffee.

"Oh, by the way, this slipped out of your jacket when we were carrying you upstairs." Mac set Nick's phone on the table and slid it over to him. "It's been buzzing quite a bit; I'm pretty sure word about the Prince made it through the precinct. I called Hank and let him know you were working on something sensitive and would call him back.

Nick thumbed the phone on, seeing a number of missed calls and texts. He shook his head. "I need to be there," he stated. "It'll be too suspicious if I'm not."

"Very well," Frank agreed. "You should know, though, that I've ordered an extra guard on you."

"Frank," Nick admonished.

Frank held up his hand again, cutting off the protest. "With his highness incapacitated, it's my call. Your guards have been ordered to keep their distance, so you won't notice them. With the Huntsman growing bolder, it would be irresponsible to ignore the threat."

"Do what you need to do as long as it doesn't interfere with me doing my job," Nick said, standing.

"You're more than a single cop or even a single Grimm," Frank told him. "You represent the potential for a safe and prosperous future for our canton. I'm going to do what I can to preserve that."

The words settled heavily on Nick's heart. He nodded mutely and strode out of the room, Mac right behind him.


The precinct was teetering on the precipice of chaos as Nick and Mac navigated the crowded hallways to the familiar walls of the Homicide department. Police officers from every shift seemed to have descended on the South Precinct, each one determined to track down the person responsible for killing two law enforcement officers and nearly adding a third to his tally.

Hank was standing at his desk, phone cradled against his shoulder as he typed something on his computer. Nick headed straight for him.

Hank's eyes lit on him as soon as he was within range. "Yeah, thanks," he said into the phone. "I'll call back when I have more."

The phone slipped off of his shoulder, landing into his waiting hand. "Nick!" he greeted, placing the phone back in its cradle. "Have you heard about the captain?"

"Mac filled me in," Nick said, glancing around the room. "Who's taking point?"

"Captain Lavelle from Vice is holding down the fort for now, but just barely," Hank replied. "Everyone's fighting to claim a piece of this guy." He leaned in closer to Nick. "Lavelle wants a run down of our case; current theory is our killer has moved onto cops."

Nick heard the hint of doubt in his partner's voice. "You don't think so?"

Hank shrugged. "I don't know, man. I mean, yeah, it makes more sense than a random assassination attempt, but he's deviating pretty hard from his M.O. Straight beheadings, then beating before beheading, and now a sniper?"

Nick couldn't disagree. "Maybe the captain was too well-protected to corner alone, and the killer thought shooting would be easier?"

"If that's the case, then we need to revisit our assumptions on this guy's motivations," Hank repeated. "The beheadings are a clear signature; the guy is trying to make a statement. Beatings are personal, as if Arnold offended him and he needed to suffer before being used as a message. But a shooter? Long distance killing doesn't fit for a guy that likes to get his hands dirty."

It did if said guy was running out of time and saw an opportunity, but Nick couldn't tell Hank that.

"Since he's been here, he's escalated his timeline," Nick stated. "Increasing his body count. He's getting sloppy."

"Almost like he has a quota to fill before a deadline," Hank concluded.

Inspiration struck Nick. "We've been trying to find the first victim to figure out this guy's pattern," he said. "What if it isn't the first victim?"

Hank was right with him on the train of thought. "What if it's the last victim at each location? A hired killer, murdering random people to throw police off of his trail?"

"If we look into the last victims, maybe we can track who benefitted from those deaths," Nick added.

Hank slapped Nick on the shoulder, grinning. "Now we're talking. Let's go and have Lavelle give us some extra people to help run down names."

Nick glanced around. "Where's Matthew? He should be a part of this."

Hank started gathering files on his desk. "He called, said he had to grab something from your place before meeting me here." He glanced at his watch and frowned slightly. "That was almost an hour ago; he should've been here by now."

Dread began to pool in the pit of Nick's stomach. "Maybe I should swing by and check on him."

Hank gave him a concerned look. "Want some company?"

Nick shook his head. "No; we've got our first real lead on this guy. You get started on that. I'll be fine."

"At least take your shadow," Hank insisted, nodding at Mac who had moved to a vacant desk some feet away. "If there is trouble, best you have backup."

Nick didn't argue with that. "I'll be back before you know it."

"From your lips to God's ears," Hank replied. "Keep your head down."


It had taken Nick every ounce of charm, stubbornness, and tenacity he possessed, but he was able to bargain for Mac to wait in the car while he checked out his house alone. Mac had acquiesced to five minutes, and had gone so far as to set a timer on his phone. Nick was off like a flash.

Night had long since fallen, the street illuminated by the streetlights and porch lights from his neighbors. Nick's house, too, had several lights on. Nick didn't know whether to feel relieved by the evidence of someone's presence or worried at Matthew's continued silence each time Nick tried to call his phone.

"Matthew?" Nick hurried into the house, eyes darting around. Seeing no sign of movement, or indeed anything unusual at all, Nick systematically moved through each room of the first floor and called out his brother's name.

The lack of response taunted Nick as he hurried upstairs, taking two steps at a time. He burst into the guest room where his brother had been staying, bracing himself for a gruesome sight and almost becoming light-headed with relief at finding nothing. The room looked as though Matthew had stepped away for a few moments, the lamp bathing the space in a warm glow.

Nick turned to continue his search, but something made him pause. He swept his gaze over the room a second time, but nothing jumped out at him to explain his hesitation.

Momentarily abandoning his search, Nick stepped inside the room. He noted the bed, rumpled but made, which suggested someone had been sitting on the covers at some point.

Matthew's suitcase was set against the wall in the corner, probably empty. Nick could see clothes in the dresser from the drawer that hadn't quite closed all the way.

Moving further into the room, Nick caught sight of a black duffel bag on the far side of the bed. It was open, revealing more clothes haphazardly tossed inside. Nick was prepared to dismiss it but his instincts drove him closer.

Something else was in the duffel.

Frowning, Nick knelt down and pushed several t-shirts out of the way to reveal an ordinary laptop.

Nick's frown deepened. He hadn't seen either Matthew or Hector using a laptop, but that didn't mean much. Nick picked up the laptop, giving it a cursory once-over before opening the lid.

The screen and keys were splotchy with blood.

Nick's heart skipped a beat, and he nearly dropped the laptop. His brain seemed frozen, trying to process the sight while immediately chasing possible reasons for Matthew having such a thing in his duffel.

"I really wish you hadn't seen that."

Matthew's voice jolted Nick out of his stupor. Slamming the laptop closed, it slid out of nerveless fingers as he jumped to his feet and spun to face the door.

Matthew was standing just inside the room, his arms crossed. A look of pity and condescension filled his expression.

"You . . . you weren't answering your phone." It was the first thing Nick could think to say.

"Phones are a distraction to the job," Matthew stated plainly. "A liability we can't afford."

Pieces were beginning to assemble in Nick's mind, but he still couldn't accept the picture they were making. "That's Hector's laptop," he said numbly. "The one that was on his desk."

Matthew nodded. "I cleaned the outside but was in a hurry. Never got around to finishing the job. Then again, I never thought you'd snoop in my things. I underestimated you."

Nick didn't rise to Matthew's baiting. "You . . . you killed Hector. Your partner."

Matthew shrugged. "He was starting to get suspicious. The leads he was apparently chasing on his own . . . well, six years was long enough for him to suspect something."

"You're . . . you're the Huntsman," Nick breathed.

Matthew swept an arm out, bowing slightly. "At your service. Well, currently at the service of the Royal House of Kronenberg, technically."

Horror and disgust were beginning to grow deep in Nick's stomach. "You killed innocent people!"

"Nick." The pitying look was almost too much to swallow. "We've talked about this. Wesen aren't people, and they certainly aren't innocent."

"Husbands," Nick continued. "Wives. Mothers. Fathers. Teachers. Doctors."

"Monsters," Matthew corrected. "Abominations."

"And Sergeant Arnold?" Nick asked.

A sly grin curled Matthew's lips. "Well, now, that one was just as much for me as it was for you. I enjoyed that one very much; he even squealed like the pig he is."

Nausea swelled in Nick. "I can't . . . what happened to you?"

The grin fell, Matthew's gaze sharpening. Nick felt his own body tense in response.

"Nothing happened to me," he spat. "You're looking at what a Grimm is supposed to be." His gaze softened slightly. "I get that it's not your fault. You haven't been properly trained. You know, I bet I could renegotiate my contract with the king; get him to agree to drop the order for your death. We can be partners, do real good in finally eliminating the wesen threat."

"I would never agree to becoming a soulless killer," Nick declared fiercely. "And I'm not going to let you hurt anyone ever again!"

"You think you can stop me?" Matthew's tone became silky smooth.

Nick clenched his jaw. "You think you can stop me?"

A bloodthirsty smile grew on Matthew's face. He held his arms out wide. "Well then, by all means. In fact, I'll tell you what; if you manage to cuff me, I'll go to the station without any fuss."

Nick stared at Matthew in disbelief.

Matthew moved closer, rounding the bed and stopping just out of Nick's reach. "Come on," he coaxed. He tapped the side of his jaw with two fingers. "Free shot. Right here."

Nick waited a second longer, then kicked a leg out at Matthew's torso. Matthew grabbed the leg effortlessly, but shoved it aside.

Nick used the momentum, spinning around and throwing his fist. Matthew's hands were lightning-fast, grabbing Nick's wrist and forearm and yanking Nick forward. Nick stumbled, unable to regain his footing and crashing at Matthew's feet. He quickly rolled onto his back, but Matthew was merely watching him, hands planted on hips.

"C'mon, Nicky," he said. "You can't tell me you're not a little tempted. Working side-by-side with family, doing good work."

"Your definition of 'good' and mine don't exactly match up." Nick swung his legs around, knocking Matthew off of his feet.

Matthew hit the floor with a surprised oomph. Nick wasted no time, scrambling to use his weight to pin his brother down. He pressed his hands down on Matthew's arms and shifted his body, holding Matthew in place.

"Matthew Becker, you're under arrest for murder," Nick stated.

Matthew snorted in laughter. "You actually believe you can beat me," he said in realization.

"What do you call this?" Nick asked.

Matthew shrugged as much as Nick's hold let him. "A good warm-up?"

Before Nick could retort, Matthew managed to twist and contort his body, unseating Nick. The older Grimm rolled, forcing Nick onto his stomach and straddling him to keep him in place. Nick grunted as his arms were forced back behind him. Within minutes, he felt cold metal encircle his wrists, followed by the familiar sound of handcuffs clicking closed.

"It was a good try," Matthew offered. "And, since I'm such a nice guy, I'm going to leave my offer on the table while I finish my contract. Give you time to process the shock you got tonight so you can see that what I'm doing is the right thing."

"No amount of time in the world will change my mind," Nick spat out.

A hand ruffled his hair. Nick jerked his head away from it.

"Now now, little brother," Matthew said. "Don't be like that. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I have your best interests at heart. But, just in case you think about stopping me before I'm done, you should know that I've picked up a little insurance."

Nick stilled, hearing the threat in Matthew's voice. "What are you talking about?"

Matthew's weight disappeared. Nick immediately rolled onto his back to face him.

Matthew was collecting his duffel, tossing it onto the bed and rifling through it. "I had a feeling you were going to find out about me sooner or later. So I paid a visit to your little Blutbad friend."

A chunk of ice dropped into Nick's stomach, quickly melted by a fiery wave of protective rage. "Monroe? If you laid a finger on him-."

Matthew scoffed. "You'll what? I think we've well and truly established you can't do shit to me. Besides, I haven't killed him. Not yet, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Nick demanded.

Finding what he was searching for, Matthew pulled out a black bag that Nick had assumed contained toiletries. Matthew unzipped it and set it on the bed out of Nick's view.

"I mean, simply, that I paid him a visit," Matthew stated, his attention on whatever he was doing. "We had a nice chat. And then I convinced him it was in his best interest to stay in a safe house. Being friends with a Grimm and all tends to put a target on your back."

Nick twisted, trying futilely to pull free of his handcuffs.

Matthew straightened, his eyes on a large gauge needle in his hands filled with a clear liquid. He tapped it, dislodging a few tiny air bubbles.

"Of course, he was suspicious of my intentions," Matthew continued. "But I was able to . . . persuade him to stay there. And he'll stay there until I finish my contract, so don't go getting any ideas about stopping me before then."

He knelt down beside Nick, the needle looming large in Nick's vision.

"What is that?" Nick demanded.

"Just a little something to give me time to move my things," Matthew said. He slid the needle into the side of Nick's neck and depressed the plunger. Nick grimaced at the pinch. "Can't have you alerting the neighbors too early, right?"

A burning sensation spread through Nick's veins, immediately followed by a strong wave of drowsiness.

Matthew patted Nick's chest and stood. "It's been a long day," he said. "Get some sleep. I'll be in touch."

Darkness clouded Nick's vision. He tried valiantly to fight it off. "No . . ." he mumbled. "Won't get away . . . Mac . . ."

Matthew finished putting away his needle and zipped up his bag. At Mac's name, he huffed a laugh. "You mean the disgrace to the police uniform sitting outside in the car?" he said, tossing the black bag back into his duffel. Zipping up his duffel, he swung it onto his shoulder. "Don't worry about him. I've got something special in mind for him."

Nick tried to protest, to call out a warning, but his brain couldn't quite remember how to make his tongue work.

Matthew paused over Nick. "Sweet dreams, Nicky. See you soon."

Nick was unconscious before Matthew left the room.