A/N: Thanks for all the favs and follows :)! And a very special thank again to MerlynPyndragon for her great work as a beta!
"That is what I was talking about!" Eric looked at him with a big grin on his face and opened his arms. "See? Exactly the color I had in mind for you."
Nick did his best to keep his face stony. He didn't feel well, especially now with the tailor fussing all around him, pulling here, pushing there. The jacket was nothing more than a vest now, the vest nothing more than a piece of clothe. The white shirt was actually ready but so bright Nick feared he would dirty it just by looking at it.
"This may very well bust the premiere!" Eric seemed excited about his own suspicion. "La Traviata bombed by a Grimm. Would be a premiere itself. Do you like opera?"
The tailor, a small man Nick suspected to be a Maushertz or maybe a rabbit-like Wesen he'd never seen before, seemed pretty scared. Because of Eric or because there was a Grimm in the room, or maybe both, Nick couldn't decide. But the man was near panic.
"Never been to," Nick said, as polite as possible. "I fear I'm too much an ordinary guy for this."
Eric pulled a face. "What a shame! Well, you will learn to love the opera. I usually never let any show slip. But I prefer Mozart."
"Well, they are all dead guys, as far as I know ..." Nick shrugged. One of the pins the tailor had used pricked his shoulder.
"Verzeihen Sie bitte, mein Herr." The tailor lowered his head.
"No problem," Nick answered.
"Maybe I should give you some information about this specific show," Eric said thoughtfully. "Could help you figure out if you like it or not. Actually, La Traviata is a pretty good starter if you ask me ..."
"Not that I would choose that!" Nick muttered.
Eric turned around again, staring at him. "You should care, my dear Grimm. You definitely should! I'm a regular at the Erstes Haus am Platz."
Not that Nick really cared about that. But he'd never been to Vienna, he didn't know the opera house.
The tailor stepped aside, looking over Nick carefully.
"I will send you a little material you can work with. Who knows, maybe you will enjoy the premiere," Eric told him.
"Too kind of you. But I'm more interested in someone else," Nick said, watching the Royal with some interest.
Eric didn't move a muscle. If he really knew the plan failed, wouldn't there be something in his face?
"She will be here soon, my dear Grimm, don't worry!"
Nick tried his best to continue to keep his stony face.
Eric didn't have a clue that he knew Juliette was still free! And that was something he could really enjoy right now. It was the first time Nick felt like he was a little ahead of the the Royal since he awoke here at the castle.
The tailor plucked at the jacket.
"Are you done?" Nick wanted to know.
The little man nodded, looking like he would faint any second.
Nick smiled as friendly as he could, and was slipping out of the jacket when there was a knock at the door.
"Come on in," Eric ordered after he looked at his watch. "My secretary. The sooner you two meet, the better for the teamwork between you. With the time I want you to plan the security for me yourself, my dear Grimm," Eric explained and turned around. "But this is not my secretary ... Who are you?"
An older and bald man, who had just entered the room, lowered his head. "Your highness, I fear I don't have good news. Christian just called in sick."
Nick frowned.
Wait a minute! Christian? The same Christian who came up every evening for half an hour, giving him a little food and talking to him, letting him make the call to the States?
If so this was probably the best position for a spy anybody could dream of, he decided. Except wife or lover Christian would really be in the perfect position. There was not much space any closer to Eric.
"Called in sick? He lives here!" Eric said.
"He drove to the hospital, your Highness," the stranger said.
Sick?
Nick hoped this out-of-the-blue sickness would not affect the plan or the escape. If so he was screwed. Because he didn't know his soon-to-be companion or any further plans, and he didn't have the tickets they needed for the flight to Marrakesh. They were both probably screwed then ...
"That is really unfortunate," Eric said.
"I'm sorry, your highness," the man repeated, lowering his head again.
What if Christian had changed his mind? Nick asked himself. What if Christian didn't come back at all? What then?
"That is a bit ... disappointing," Eric said. Lifting his chin he looked at the stranger like a scientist at a new insect. "Well, I'm sure Christian will be fine ..."
Again here was this little timbre in his voice, the warning not to go any further.
Nick knew this point of Eric very well now. At least, he hoped he knew the most porminent triggers that put the Royal into a rage.
"Well, maybe he will be back later." Eric still sounded too enthusiastic about the absence of his secretary. "Did he tell you which hospital he wanted to go to?"
"I fear not," the bald man answered.
Eric shrugged. "Well ... I fear this meeting is postponed, my dear new employee." He turned around to Nick, looking at him.
"Too bad. I was looking forward to it," Nick answered.
"We will find another topic to discuss. There are still plenty of things you have to learn."
The bald man looked up, not sure if he could go or not.
Eric frowned, blinked and turned to the stranger again. "Don't you have work to do?" he asked.
"Of course, your highness, of course," the man said. Bowing and stepping backwards to the door again, he left the room.
"Pretty impressive, huh?" Nick couldn't avoid to ask.
"Pretty useless," Eric answered, turning back to him. "Now, where were we?"
Christian pulled over and stopped only long enough for his new companion to jump into the car before he accelerated back onto the street.
"You really look ready to start a war!" the passenger said in a heavy German accent, fastening the belt. "What happened?"
"I lost her and the baby," Christian answered.
The man to his right hand whistled. Rubbing his unshaved face he looked out of the side window. "I bet no one is too happy about that."
"I know where she is," Christian said, changing lanes to leave the city. "You could have watched over her while I was busy, you know?"
"I was busy," his passenger answered.
"With what? Spying on one of the others? I told you who the only person is who really matters to us." Christian changed lanes again.
The passenger pulled a face. "Well, we will fix that, okay? It's not like we wouldn't do anything."
Christian took a deep breath and bit his lips.
He had told Sean several times that it was wrong to bring Meisner into the inner circle. But Sean was absolutely sure they needed the Swiss. What he needed him for he never shared with anyone.
"What do we know? You said you knew where to find her?" Meisner asked.
Christian nodded. "At first she made negotiations with the Schwarzwald-Roma. Do you know about them?"
Meisner shook his head. "No."
Christian wasn't too thrilled about this statement either. "They are gypsies. Like the Walachei Sinti. Both tribes departed a while ago. The Schwarzwald-Roma are nearby, and they are dealing with the Royal families."
Meisner sent him a stare. "You mean they are spying for them?"
Again Christian shook his head. "They are trading for the Royals, that's what they do. I couldn't find out who but I know the Roma Queen Stefania Popescu made negotiations about the unborn. That was one of the leads I had for to find the soon-to-be mother. Looks like she already had signed a contract."
"That's not good," Meisner said.
"It's fixable, even if it is sealed with blood. There are possibilities. But they have taken her away," Christian ended his report.
"The mother of the child? What about the child? Is it safe?"
"She's still pregnant."
As soon as they passed the City sign Christian stepped on the gas pedal again, speeding up the Mercedes.
"Wow! I thought we should arrive there in one piece!" Meisner laughed.
Christian gave him another look, tightening his fingers around the steering wheel.
"And now you want to bring her back, I suppose," Meisner asked after a while.
Christian nodded. Looking in the driver side mirror he checked once more if another vehicle was following them. "And we don't have plenty of time. The premiere is tomorrow night."
"Premiere of what?" Meisner blinked, confused.
"La Traviata, the new season will open with this opera," Christian answered.
"And we care about that why?"
"Because the escape-plan needed a set up. And this set up is the opera."
Meisner lifted his eyebrows. "I don't want to swap places with them. I hate the opera!"
"Well, we are more about to start a battle inside the Renard family. Whoever is paying Stefania is an insider. And we will definitely piss this someone off with getting Adalind back."
Hopefully they would have the chance to free her ...
"If you brought the weapons, I'm all in." Meisner grinned.
Christian gritted his teeth. Of course he was ...
Monroe was worried and tired. But mostly worried. He hadn't slept last night and now he was watching both women, Rosalee and Juliette, packing some things for their journey. And his heart was aching simply thinking of letting them go.
Sure, Juliette had to find another of her kind. He got it. She somehow had to learn more than only the essentials, and no one, not him or Rosalee or Renard or anybody else, could really train a Grimm. He tried with Nick, and had to face the fact that he probably failed after Nick was kidnapped.
But Rosalee? Rosalee should stay here. She should run the Spice Shop, plan the wedding, run with him at night, be by his side.
If one of the two women asked him now, Monroe was sure he never would have packed his bag faster. He felt responsible for Juliette, he feared to lose Rosalee if he let her go now.
What could he do now? Rosalee took his word that he would stay here, be the Obi-Blutbad for Wu to teach him right – and finally come to a conclusion what was wrong with him. And he always had been known for sticking to his word.
But he couldn't really let them go! Not on their own! He would never be able to forgive himself if something happened to them.
"You okay?" Juliette asked, head tilted and a worried look in her eyes after she closed the fridge.
He would grab some groceries first after they were gone, Monroe made a note. Or he would follow them with his old WV Beetle ...
He nodded, still looking worried.
"You sure? You look like your mother just passed or something ..." Juliette lifted an eyebrow.
Rosalee, who came back from putting the food into Nick's truck, looked at him with a little smile. "You have to understand, this is important! For her, but also for us."
He knew that. Well, his brain knew that. But that didn't keep his heart from bleeding ...
"Everything will be okay," said Rosalee, embracing him from the side. "We will probably be back in a couple of days, who knows?"
"Could be if my suspicion is right," Juliette agreed.
But in two days a lot could happen. A Grimm on a rampage could kill Rosalee, taking Juliette hostage or try to brainwash her ...
"I know," Monroe finally mumbled.
Rosalee squeezed him a little and kissed his stubbled cheek. "Don't worry! We will be careful," she promised.
Well, in this world you could fall out of the bed in your sleep and die from a broken neck. So, anyything could happen to Rosalee. And, of course, to Juliette.
Monroe couldn't help himself. Over the last eight years he'd lived on his own after he broke up with Angelina. He never spent a second thought of the question of whether there was the perfect match for him beyond his living room window. He had been sure he would die alone one day, and the only ones grieving for him would be some of his costumers.
But then Nick happened to him, this weird little Grimm with the huge puppy eyes who dragged him into the world outside his front door again. And in that time Monroe realized that he'd finally found a new crowd to hang out with, a new pack, a new sort of family. And when Rosalee saved his life with a brick and decided to stay here to fill in for her murdered brother, and Nick slowly grew into his role as a Grimm, and all the drama with Juliette and ...
That night at the container yard was where it had ended and begun again. Both he and Rosalee, hurt and maybe a little weird, had decided months ago to keep it simple, to give their relationship time, a lot of time. They had just entered a new stage that night before the zombies attacked Portland and Nick was abducted. And that night in the container yard, fighting those people, watching some of them die, running out of treatment, having the newbie Juliette with them ...
Monroe remembered the zombie that had come after Rosalee as he was attacked by three others. He'd tried to warn her, tried to get to her. And he saw the weapon in the hand of the zombified man. Later they found out that he was from Kansas City and worked there as a security guard. But that night he wasn't protecting something, he only was out on a rampage, he was ready to kill, and he tried ...
"We will be back as quickly as possible," Juliette told him again and smiled up to him.
Monroe tried a smile himself, sure that he failed because he was once more in the container yard, back on that night last May, attacked by three zombies himself, one of them a Blutbad, and he saw the security guard aiming at Rosalee and pulling the trigger -
Rosalee came up to him, looking worried now. She knew, he was sure. There was this little connection between them. They knew what the other was thinking of.
Seeing that zombie firing at Rosalee changed the world a second time for Monroe. And it did for her. They both realized that time was the thing theu couldn't change or stop. Everything was possible, and both of them were mortal. That was the moment Monroe decided to make his proposal to Rosalee. And she told him afterwards it was also the moment for her, when she decided that she needed him at her side, that she wasn't able to let him go.
One moment, one bullet, missed the target but was close enough to remind them on their mortality. It had changed their relationship, had pushed them forward, had turned them from close friends to something more ...
"I will call you every day," Rosalee told him now. Her voice pulled him back from his memories, put him on his feet again.
Monroe feared nothing more than losing her. He'd found his soulmate, finally! He had made so many mistakes in his life, sometimes for a feeling he mistook for love. But the real thing, the true love, he first experienced with Angelina. And she was that kind of girl who brought him into trouble, something he didn't want in his life anymore after what happened in Moonshine, when he was visiting his parents, still with Angelina. No one knew about this, no one knew why he changed, stepped back from the wild times and into the church, becoming a Wider. No one, except Angelina. And Angelina couldn't understand why this was such a big deal for him.
Rosalee could. She knew about what happened back then, ten years ago. He'd told her, as she told him about the time she was a drug addict and ended up in prison. If anyone else had found out he would have been gone to prison too, and maybe he would have ended up on death row ...
Rosalee understood. She understood him better than anybody else. So he told her, secrets he never shared with anybody else, not even with his parents, and surely not Nick.
Now Rosalee stood right before him, looking up to him, smiling. And she leaned forward and kissed him softly, oh so soft!
"It'll be okay," she whispered. "I will be back soon."
Monroe nodded, mouth shut. He was sure if he opened his lips he would begin to howl like a wolf, the wolf he was in his soul.
Rosalee smiled and touched his cheek. "It will be over soon – everything! Nick will be back and we can finally plan the wedding. What do you think? Should we ask for a double feature then? Maybe Nick wants you to be his best man!"
That would be fun! It would be fun having Grimm at their wedding. Monroe started to smile just thinking about it. His parents would think he was crazy, having a Grimm as his best man. And with Juliette now, whom Rosalee wanted as her bridesmaid ...
"See you, my big lovely wolf," Rosalee said, kissing him again before she turned and left the house.
Monroe saw her jumping into Nick's truck. Juliette was already behind the steering wheel and started the engine now.
Monroe watched them leave, and he had a bad feeling about this ...
Christian stalked through the woods, trying to avoid every moise he could make. Meisner behind him was loud enough. His heavy boots crushed every single branch in their way and Christian started wondering if the gypsies were all deaf, not to hear these noises from the woods.
He could see their camp site. A huge bonfire burned in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by half a dozen trailers. Surprisingly modern trailers and trucks. People were standing near the fire, drinking beer and chatting, or walking around.
Christian's attention was drawn to a tent, a little aside from the trailers, with a satellite dish at the far end.
"What's that?" Meisner asked, nodding in the direction of the tent.
Christian glanced at him with the question on his face, to see if Meisner really was serious about the question before he answered.
"My bet: that's Stefania's."
Meisner lifted his eyebrows. "A tent?"
"Why not? She's probably the mightiest Hexenbiest on this earth, and she's the leader of an entire tribe of people. She can act as eccentric as she likes. No one will openly criticize her for her lifestyle." Christian looked around, trying to lift the darkness of the night in the woods in the hope of finding out if they were already been noticed and were being stalked by gypsies.
"And what now?" Meisner asked.
Good question. Christian did not really know what to do. They had to make sure Adalind was here, but he had no idea how without giving up their hideout in the woods.
"We have to find out where she is," Christian answered hesitately.
"And how do we manage that? I don't know if you've noticed, but these guys seem to know each other pretty well. We cannot simply stroll into their camp and say hi and ask where they've hidden a pregnant woman and former Hexenbiest."
Something made Christian's stomach ache. Something he missed. Something that probably could change everything.
He never found out why Adalind went to the gypsies, he realized. There must have been a reason why she wanted to trade her baby. And this reason he hadn't found out so far. But it could be important in this situation. It could be the solution he was seeking.
"What do you think?" Meisner asked.
Christian stared at the tent, trying to make out something. There were some really bright lights in there, and he could make out the silhouettes of those inside.
"What do you think of that?" he asked with a little smile.
Meisner blinked and turned around. He was obviously surprised after he noticed how bright the lights from the inside were.
"We should check out the tent first. Maybe she's there," Christian suggested. "If we don't find her there we'll come up with a new plan."
Meisner shrugged. "As long as we will eventually get rid of Royals it's fine with me."
Christian nodded. "Then you should go back and take the guns."
Meisner glanced at him. "And do what, exactly?"
Christian sighed and turned around. "We need a distraction. Adalind knows me, but she doesn't know you. So I think it might be in everyone's best interest that you take the distraction part while I keep looking for Adalind."
Meisner thought about that and shrugged. "Give me the keys. I've an idea how to distract them."
Christian gritted his teeth a little but gave the keys of the Mercedes to his partner. "Be careful! These people can be very dangerous! And don't forget, they are Wesen!"
The flickering light from the bonfire illuminated Meisner's face. He didn't seem too impressed. "I can deal with that." He shrugged and went off, making the same loud noises as before.
Christian told himself once more that he really needed to talk to Sean about their newest ally. Meisner might be motivated, true, but he also was not exactly what Christian needed as handyman sometimes. He really wished he could trust the guy better but that was not easy to do.
Finally, after Meisner vanished into the darkness of the woods, Christian turned around again, looking at the tent and hoping to find a lead.
Adalind was supposed to be here. If she wasn't he was out of options, and the baby most likely lost. He also had to find out who was working with with the gypsies. Taking Adalind back would probably help a little.
Christian was very careful, nearly crawling through the bushes and small trees forming the border between clearing and woods. A huge fern was the best hideout he could find that drew him nearer to the tent.
Still there were several shadows moving, one he could see was obviously female, two others male. A fourth shadow he couldn't really make out, this figure could belong to both. And as it was sitting on something so he couldn't make out the height.
Christian waited, listening carefully into the early night.
What if Meisner simply took the car and drove off? What if Christian was abandoned here with hopefully Adalind and who know how many gypsies?
He looked back into the dark woods but couldn't make out anything. The bad possibilities continued to whisper in his inner ear, making him nervous.
He had to trust Meisner this time. No matter how he thought about the man and whether if he wanted to continue the partnership later, he had to trust him now.
Just when Christian wanted to return into the woods, to seek for Meisner and hope to get a better start next time, a huge detonation made the ground beneath his feet tremble. Christian stared down, confused, and in the next moment a second detonation seemed bigger.
What the hell was going on? He'd asked Meisner for a little distraction and got something that felt like a Third World War was about to break loose.
Screams and shouts came from the bonfire. Christian could see people running. But, as far as he could tell - and the majority of his sight was blocked by the tent - there was no fire, and all the trailers seemed to be okay.
What was going on here?
A third detonation shocked birds and other animals nearby into motion. Christian could hear wings, little feet and hoofes and animal shrieks all around.
Whatever this was, it was helpful!
Christian noticed two men coming from the tend and marching to the bonfire. A moment later a third person appeared at the entrance to the tent: Stefania, queen of the Schwarzwald-Romas and also a wicked and maleficent Hexenbiest, was leaving the tent.
Christian waited for the fourth shadow he'd seen but there was no more else emerging from the tent.
What now?
Christian looked over his shoulder, thinking of what he might be able to do.
He'd never been a hero, and he was sure this wouldn't be the first time.
A smaller explosion on the other side of the camp let the gypsies away from him.
Christian didn't hesitate any longer. Ducking down he left the huge fern behind and ran to the back of the tent, not exactly knowing what to do next.
Screams and gunfire were now audible from the other side of the camp. So, the fight was commencing.
This could end in a war within the Renard family, Christian realized again. The child was precious, not only as good. The Royal house of Renard was slowly descending into extinction. The last child born into the family with the powers of the Royals was the cousin Sean had killed two years ago. There were no children, and half of the princes weren't married or didn't even have a girlfriend. The three princesses were all sterile. If Adalind's baby carried the Royal power and turn out as fertile one day it could save the whole family. And every prince and princess would kill to get their hands on this baby, not to mention those of the other six Royal families and the Dragon's Tongue in Asia.
Christian scanned the tent but didn't find any entry on this side. He looked around the corner to see one of the two men from before now not far away from the entrance, obviously watching over whoever was inside.
Damn!
Christian searched for his pocket knife and turned to the rear of the tent. It took him a little time and patience before the point sunk into the cloth. Christian reminded himself that, if they made it out of here alive and well, he really had to sharpen the knife in the not so far future. It took him what felt like ages to cut the material and make himself a small entrance. He only could hope that, if Adalind was really inside, she wouldn't panick seeing the knife slicing a hole into the tent.
Christian ripped the cloth apart and squeezed his head and chest into the tent, carefully watching his surroundings.
He was right about the sattelite dish outside. There were two computers running and on a huge flatscreen he saw some movement. A movie or TV-show? Could be both, and the volume was down.
The ground was covered with thick carpets, and there was an ottoman standing near an opening to the entry of the tent. And on this ottoman sat ...
"Adalind!" Christian sighed in relief and squeezed himself completely into the tent. Stumbling the first steps he smiled at the blond young woman.
Adalind looked back, but seemed somehow ... not completely present. Her eyes were glassy, her face showed not a glimpse of emotion.
"What did they do to you?" Christian asked, looking around.
On the other site of the entrance stood a cabinet with different flasks and bottles and jars. Christian tiptoed to it, glaring at the entrance before scanning through the collection, not completely sure what he had to look for.
The days when Sean's mother taught him and her son some of her Hexenbiest recipes were long gone but he remembered vaguely that he'd seen someone in a state like Adalind was in before. So, if there was a treatment, it had to be here!
He hoped to get lucky, and read the tiny labels.
Outside there was still shooting and screaming and yelling. Whatever Meisner did, he was doing his job pretty well so far. But the sensitive moment would come when they had to leave the gypsies alone. Christian wasn't so sure the gypsies would let them go.
"Maedesuess" he read on a label and a little light turned on on it. This should fix the problem.
Christian marched back to Adalind, who still sat motionless on the ottoman, staring into thin air.
Wait a minute. Wasn't this a toxic plant?
Christian looked back to the cabinet. Then he turned to one of the computers. To the table screen and keyboard stationed on top. To the tiny flask he saw there. And to the screen where an email was open.
He hesitated again, listening to what was going on outside.
Meisner's distraction was still working, he didn't hear or see anybody. The guy guarding the tent still stood there, waiting and not knowing that there was an intruder behind his back.
Christian hastened over to the computer and looked at the screen, trying to remember everything and to put notes down on a sheet of paper.
"Glad to hear about the success of our first agreement. I will be there as soon as I can, but this could take a while as there are some interesting developments over here in Portland. As I really want this rare treasure you offered me I will give you US 10,000 $ more if you will inform my caretaker to do what I pay him for.
May there be other occasions for a future cooperation."
Portland?
Christian frowned, reading the mail again without any clue what it was about. But he had a bad feeling in his guts reading it.
Finally he took the flask and turned around, sneaking back to Adalind, who still was sitting on the ottoman without reacting to anything around her.
He looked at the label on the flask and startled a bit.
"Flugsalbe."
Now he had it!
Flying potion, Flugsalbe, separated the mind from the body. The receiver turned into a mindless marionette while the brain was huper-stimulated.
That meant he needed something to put Adalind's mind back into the here and now. And he didn't know if he could manage to rise to this challenge at all. Outside the tent was an armed man watching, there were he-didn't-know-how-many other men out there, ready to fight to the very end.
He could leave, now, while Meisner still was performing his distraction. But he would run short of ammunition not too far in the near future. And that was the moment the gypsies were waiting for.
Or he could stay, not completely sure why, and search for the antidote and take Adalind with him after he cured her from the nasty Flugsalbe.
Or ... he could try to drag her out of there.
Christian stored the flask in his pocket and took Adalind's arm. "Come on!" he hissed to her.
Adalind didn't move at all. Dragging her was like trying to make a dead weight move. How could such a small person could turn out to be this heavy?
Christian tried again, pulling a little harder this time. "Adalind, we have to go!" he said, determinded. But still she wasn't moving at all.
When he was about to start a third time, a voice asked him: "And what do you think you are doing here?"
Christian froze for a moment, eyes wide. Then he turned his head and stared at the bulky gypsy at the entrance to the tent.
Second mistake in a row, he told himself. And this time he couldn't blame someone else. He'd let his guard down trying to get Adalind out of there.
The gypsy came closer, and Christian straightened slowly, letting Adalind's arm go and trying to get the gun in the backside of his jeans.
Next moment the gypsy was above him, throwing his right fist into Christian's stomach and trying to get hold on his other hand with the gun. The huge fist closed around his wrist and Christian winced, breathless, before his fingers opened and the gun dropped. That hurt!
And the gypsy wasn't done with him. This time the fist made contact with Christian's face. He reeled around, stars dancing before his eyes, before another blow slammed into his back so hard, he thought his kidney might have burst.
Stumbling, he tried to regain balance but he already felt dizziness robbing him of his coordination. His knees were full of pudding, the blood rushing in his ears and leaving a pulse at the point of impact at his jaw.
The gypsy came closer again, his arm in the air, ready to smash Christian's bones into pieces. And then ... a single shot, blustering and deafening loud, and then there was a tiny little wound in the forehead of the giant gypsy. The man fell, somehow reminding Christian of a chopped timber tree and there was a silly feeling that he had to be prepared for the impact, as it would shake the earth.
It didn't. The man collapsed, blood and brain seeping from the little wound in his forehead. And in front of the ottoman, the smoking gun still in her hands, stood Adalind, and stared at him with an ashen face, shocked about what she just did.
She shot the man! Shot him to death! A loud shot!
Christian was aware that suddenly there were only single shots from outside anymore, and he got the bad feeling that more gypsies were on their way here after they'd heard the shot in the tent.
Still feeling a little shaky in the knees he crossed the body on the floor, carefully took the gun from Adalind's shaking fingers and, after a second of hesitation, he embraced her like a friend.
"Thank you for saving my life," he whispered in her ear, setting her free again but taking her hand. "And now we have to go. Quickly!"
He turned to run to the cut where he came in before, but realized that Adalind had yet to move.
Dear God! Was she still ... ?
"I killed him," Adalind whispered.
"You shot him," Christian corrected.
"But ... he's dead!"
Being on Flugsalbe didn't was exactly the right method to become a genius ...
"Otherwise I would be dead by now. I like it this way better," Christian said with a smile.
He could hear the footsteps now. And there were many!
"I've never taken a life without using my powers," Adalind told him.
Powers? What powers?
Christian got the impression again that he was missing part of the story. But right now there was no time to catch up.
"Can we please move this conversation to a later time?" he asked. "I don't want to rush but I fear there are others coming for us."
Adalind stared again at him, eyes wide. "But I -"
"You've never shot someone to death before, I got it. But this is not the right place to discuss this more deeply. Unless you want to stay here," Christian told her.
"But ... the contract!" Adalind cried.
The mysterious contract ...
Christian looked around. "Do you have an idea where it could be?"
Adalind shook her head.
"Then we will find another way to keep you out of it. Now, please!" Christian pulled a little and finally Adalind took the first step to follow him.
Finally!
Still she was too slow for his taste right now but she let him drag her with him, which was a huge step in the right direction for him.
Christian climbed out of the tent, Adalind on his heels. He took her by her arm again and led her as quickly as possible to the nearby bushes and small trees. Once inside the woods the gypsies wouldn't be able to find them anymore. And the moment they arrived at the car ...
Christian froze once more, staring into the darkness.
Meisner still had the keys to the Mercedes!
Christian turned around, watching half a dozen gypsies entering the tent.
They were running out of time now. They needed to leave! ASAP!
Christian took Adalind's hand and rushed forward as fast as he could with limited vision. And he sent prayers and requests to Meisner to stop his fake attack and join them.
A scream behind him. He couldn't understand what the man screamed but he knew it was about the body in the tent and the absense of Adalind.
"We have to keep moving," Christian whispered in her ear and went further.
More single shots came from the other side of the camp.
How long it would take Meisner to realize that he wasn't the primary target anymore. Hopefully fast enough before the gypsies put one and one together and tried to capture him and interrogate him.
Christian bit his lips.
What now? He didn't have a car because Meisner had the key. The Mercedes belonged to Eric. And Eric would definitely be clever enough to find out the truth the moment he learned about the shooting and the missing car.
"Where do we go?" Adalind asked.
Good question!
Christian stopped and listened before finally turning back to the camp.
He needed the key! If Eric found out ...
Another shot, a single one but much louder than the ones from Meisner. And a distant scream.
Christian's face went pale and he stopped for a second.
The sound of heavy steps coming from the camp. Many feet in heavy boots, not only one man.
Meisner was gone, in best case dead, in worst case ...
One last shot, from the distance, answered him.
Meisner was dead!
