Chapter 16

As we drove to the trailer, my stomach knotted up, and I was a bit light-headed. Monroe had visited the Grimm clubhouse, as I liked to call it, a few times, but I wasn't sure what to expect.

"You really need to calm down, okay?" Monroe said as he took my hand. "It'll be fine." The smell of my fear was probably filling up his tiny VW. I took in a breath and let the practiced calm wash over me.

We pulled into a parking lot that exuded a high degree of seediness. It seemed the perfect venue for thugs to make sordid deals to off people or to sell cocaine. Maybe I'd watched too many Al Pacino movies. A hodgepodge of trucks and trailers of every kind were parked this way and that. It was like a flea market of vehicles had set up shop, selling rust and broken dreams.

"This is it?" I asked doubtfully. "Is this place safe?"

"Yeah. Well, I mean, I wouldn't want to vacation here or anything, but we'll be okay. And it's daylight. This place is much creepier at night." Monroe parked the VW and cleared his throat. "It's right over there." Monroe pointed to a small, antique looking silver trailer. It wasn't as menacing as I'd pictured, and it didn't seem like it could hold very much. "It's a 1963 vintage airstream Globe Trotter. That baby would've been a beauty back in its heyday, but no one can camp in it now with how they've…" Monroe paused. "You'll just have to see for yourself what I mean."

I stared at the trailer, forcing my calm to stick by me today.

"Well, umm, are you ready?" he asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"So, something to keep in mind," Monroe said as we walked up to the trailer. "He's particular about his things." He sighed. "So, uhh... Just look with your eyes, not with your hands, okay? He hates it when you touch the stuff, word to the wise."

"Okay, so don't touch," I repeated.

Monroe knocked a few times on the silver door.

Nick swung it open almost immediately. "Good, you're here," he said, flashing that toothy grin of his. Monroe entered first, and I followed closely behind him into the clubhouse.

The entire thing was gutted to be one open area. So that's what Monroe had meant. The size of the trailer outside was deceiving. The inside had ample space, filled with multifarious oddities. It was a potpourri of everything macabre. My eyes wanted to go in all directions; there was stuff placed everywhere. Sitting here and there were bottles of potions, books, maps, charts, and jars of god knows what... Perhaps eye of newt and toe of frog? I wouldn't be surprised.

Straight ahead was a trailer daybed decked out with pillows of neutral colors of tan, pumpkin, rust, and olive green. To the left stood an antique card catalog with all sorts of bottles covering its top. Or maybe it was an apothecary cabinet? Well, either way, a Grimm apparently needed lots of mysterious, compartmentalized storage to hide their research and Grimm secrets.

To the far right set an antique corner chair and a wooden lectern. A Grimm must be ready to make speeches, right? My eyes moved up. Oh, wow. Even on the ceiling more maps and diagrams hung above us. Maybe it was a space-saving measure, or perhaps Nick studied them while reclining on his trailer bed?

To the far left were shelves of books, a large armoire, and an antique desk with thick, turned wooden legs and a green leather inset on the desktop. The desk held more bottles and even an animal skull. Well, maybe it was Wesen instead? I didn't want to think about it.

Monroe watched me survey the trailer. "It's pretty awesome, huh?"

"It's..." I searched my mental filing cabinet of words, but was lost on one to appropriately describe it.

Nick motioned me to sit down on the trailer bed. I did as he asked, sitting on the bed's edge, my back tensed straight and alert. Nick pulled out a wooden chair behind the desk. He sat down, wheeling close by me. Monroe remained standing, hovering near the lectern.

"So..." Nick gripped his knees with his hands. "Where do we begin?"

I swallowed hard. My throat was as dry as the Mojave Desert. "Well, like I said last night, I've been able to see Wesen all my life."

"So, you're a Grimm, too?" he asked speculatively.

"I don't know exactly." I let out the breath I'd been holding. "I've done research before on my family history, but when I was home for my dad's funeral I discovered I was adopted."

"Oh," Nick said. "Then are your biological parents...?"

"They were murdered," I replied softly, looking down at my hands.

"Could you be Wesen?"

"Dude, she's human," Monroe said. "I can vouch for that much." He pointed at his nose.

"So, then you might be a Grimm?"

"Anything is possible." I shrugged while glancing back up. "Since learning about the adoption, I'm not sure of anything anymore."

Nick leaned back in the wooden chair and crossed his arms. "I knew you were hiding something, but I really wasn't expecting this." He turned to Monroe. "And you. Why did you keep this from me?"

"Well, you know, this wasn't my secret to share, man."

"And it wasn't something I was ready to share with you immediately," I added quickly. I worked hard to keep my voice even, but what he'd said was just a little rude.

"So, letting a Daemonfeuer know was easier than telling me?" Nick's voice wasn't at all even.

"That was a different situation. I didn't anticipate her woge, and I flinched. Usually that doesn't happen."

"Do you usually break into people's houses?" Nick edged forward in his chair. "And why were you even at my house?" His blue-green eyes were trained on me. The detective wanted answers.

"No, I usually don't break in. Your door was open, so I didn't have to break anything." My voice was sharp. "And if you must know, I was at your door because I was planning on telling you my secret last night, actually. But instead of telling you, I guess you got to see it for yourself, first-hand."

"Yeah, that I did." Nick let out a breath. "So, the Lowen…?"

"Yeah, I saw him, and unfortunately he realized I saw him, too."

"I thought you said that usually doesn't happen."

Monroe chuckled softly behind me, and I turned quickly. "She has a bad batting average on Portland reveals." He held back a grin.

"I'm not having a good year," I retorted.

"So, who else knows?" Nick asked.

"Quite a few Wesen know in Louisville, but here in Portland, aside from you and Monroe... Umm, there's a Mauzhertz, the Lowen, and those Daemonfeuers that died last night."

"Who's the Mauzhertz?"

"The bookie that gave Monroe the bogus address to the Lowen Games was a Mauzhertz." I really didn't want to rehash impersonating a Grimm again.

"Did he make you flinch, too?" Nick smirked.

My eyes narrowed as I said, "No."

"She's been through a lot lately, you know?" Monroe chimed in. "Cut her some slack, okay?"

Nick rested his elbows on his legs, laced his fingers together, and rested his chin on top. "So how do you know so much about all this?"

"I had great friends back home. My best friend loves Wesen history, so she and I compiled our own journals of research."

Nick lifted his head. "So then you knew about Monroe the whole time."

"Well, a majority of it. He didn't have a woge until the second time we met." I looked over to Monroe, who had a sheepish grin.

"Monroe, you didn't know she knew?" Nick was piecing the puzzle together quickly.

"Dude, no clue. I mean, she doesn't look like a Grimm." He cleared his throat. "I mean, she's as human as the next guy, or girl... woman. What I mean is, maybe I should've figured it out, but honestly I wasn't expecting to run into two Grimms in my lifetime. Lightning rarely strikes the same place twice, you know? Well, I guess this would be three if you count your aunt, but I didn't exactly run into her, thankfully, so—"

"So, then you think Renée's a Grimm?" Nick chimed in.

"No, no, no... Look, I don't know what Renée is, man. I'm just using the term loosely since it's the closest thing… person… to what she is that I know of." Monroe shook his head. "But maybe you can help us figure something else out."

"I'll do what I can," he said, turning back toward me, "if she trusts me."

"Nick, I trust you, okay?" My God, what did he want from me? A formal letter of apology?

Nick looked me over like this was an exam. "So you haven't had a woge."

I scoffed. "No, genius. I haven't had a woge." I turned to Monroe. "Is this what he thinks is help?"

"Now just give him a minute," Monroe replied. "He's really good at what he does, I swear."

Nick sat back. "If she doesn't change into anything, then what am I looking for?"

Monroe shook his head. "Dude, have you run across anything in the books about a Wesen that looks and acts human, but, you know… isn't?"

"No." Nick chuckled. "I haven't read about a non-human, human Wesen."

"I was afraid you were gonna say that." Monroe looked over at me. "So, Renée, umm, you wanna talk to Nick about our other, umm, thing that happened, you know, at the airport?" he stammered out, rocking on his heels.

I held my forehead in my hand. "Not really, but I suppose he needs to know."

"Know what?" Nick was on the edge of his chair now.

"As we were headed to board our flight back to Portland…" I paused, taking in a breath, "we had an encounter with two Reapers at the airport."

Nick's eyes had surpassed saucers and were as wide as dinner plates. "Reapers?!" he managed to utter through his agape mouth.

"Uh-huh," I replied, pursing my lips. "Monroe dealt with one, and I knocked out the other."

"So, you're telling me you took down a Reaper?" Nick was close to falling off his chair and had to adjust his seat. "With what?"

"With a metal pipe in the parking garage." It sounded like a bad game of Clue. Too bad my name wasn't Miss Scarlett.

Nick jerked his head to Monroe. "And yours?"

Monroe shook his head. "You know, we don't really need to go there with all the details."

Nick sucked in his breath at Monroe's words. "Okay, so if Reapers are after Renée, then she must be a Grimm. Reapers aren't sent out for just anyone. At least I don't think they are. Monroe?"

"I dunno, man. I mean, it sounds like someone thinks she is, but I dunno how the whole operation... uhh… operates."

"Monroe, with you dating Renée… Well, this is much more than messing with the status quo. It's dangerous. And with what happened to you before with—"

"Nick, it's fine." He crossed his arms. "I'll be fine." He met my eyes and gave me a reassuring nod. I recalled the story of the Reapers with a message for Nick. That message had been a beaten up Monroe with a bloody drawing of a scythe on the hood of his VW. Maybe Nick was right. Maybe being with Monroe was too risky, too—

"But nothing has happened since you two got back here?" Nick asked, halting my thoughts.

"No scythes or black trench coats," I bleakly replied.

"Good." Nick seemed lost in thought. He'd told me before about the Reaper that had attacked his aunt and how he'd shot him. Was he thinking about that now?

"So, what should we do about figuring out what I am?" I asked finally.

"Well, you aren't Wesen, obviously. So, we're going to have to go through the books, and that's going to take some time." Nick looked up, gripped his knees, and gave me a smile. "But before we do that, you wanna see more of the trailer first?"

"Sure." I nodded as I spoke. We were changing subjects, and honestly I was more than relieved. He was taking it all quite well. Surprisingly, so was I.

Nick stood, resting his hands on the top of the chair. "My Aunt Marie left me this trailer before she died. It's filled with mystery, knowledge, and… well, various items you can use should you encounter dangerous Wesen." He looked at Monroe. "Well, of course not all Wesen are bad. Case in point over there."

"Uh, thank you?" Monroe replied with a sarcastic smirk.

"But the ones that are and need to be addressed… Well, this trailer has the information to take one down."

"And by take down, he means decapitate," Monroe added.

"Monroe." Nick scoffed. "Come on, please?"

"Sorry," Monroe said, then whispered to me, "but it's true though."

"Well, as you can see, there are some interesting things housed in here. My aunt didn't get a chance to show me what all of it is used for, but you'll notice that on your right there's—"

"Look, man," Monroe interjected. "If you're gonna show her everything, you might as well go through the—"

Nick held his hands up. "Do you want to give the tour, Monroe?"

"Well, no. I'm just saying if you're gonna show her all the ins and outs, it would be good to—"

"Whose trailer is it, yours or mine?"

"Okay, well, you don't have to get all territorial about it," Monroe muttered and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"On your right," Nick continued, "are books that read like journals." He pointed to the small library on a shelf in the far corner. "You know those fairy tales we grew up with?" I managed to nod without rolling my eyes. I was well versed on where fairy tales came from. "Well, my ancestors wrote all the exaggerated, personal accounts that are in those books."

"You know, they're more like tomes, really," Monroe added.

Nick shook his head at Monroe.

"Well they are," he said pointedly. "They're in volumes."

"These books detail every Wesen my ancestors have encountered, and they go back centuries."

Monroe reached for my shoulder. "They're like the notebooks you and Chloe did, but just, like, hundreds and hundreds of years older." Monroe smiled, then his eyes widened. "Oh! You gotta show her the weapons!"

"I'll get to that in a minute, Monroe."

Monroe mouthed, "The weapons are awesome!"

"Now these books describe—"

"Uh, more like malign in some cases," Monroe cut in.

Nick turned to Monroe while shaking his head in frustration. "These books describe everything from Wesen characteristics, to history and weaknesses." He stood up and moved to a section of books, pulling one out to show me. "It all can be found in these pages. Some Wesen have whole books dedicated to them."

The book was definitely old, with heavily scripted words on parchment paper. Sketches and more diagrams were doodled in between the texts. I'd seen a few pages from the ones Nick had e-mailed Monroe of the Steinadler and Schakaln while we were in Kentucky. But to see them up close, these had historical significance, for sure.

"Luckily for me my Aunt Marie continued to add to these books." Nick placed it on the desk and clasped his hands together. "Okay, so you wanna see the weapons cabinet?"

I nodded slowly. I had to admit I was curious, but this place was fitting my clubhouse description better than I'd anticipated.

Nick opened the austere, dark wood armoire across from the desk. "In here you'll find an assortment of medieval weapons that have been collected throughout centuries." There were many fun things in there. I eyed battle axes and swords from where I was sitting.

"Go on over there," Monroe encouraged, motioning toward the armoire with his hand.

I hesitantly stood and walked to where Nick was showcasing the weapons like Vanna White. Upon closer inspection, the range of weaponry was expansive to say the least. It was filled to the brim with anything and everything old, pointy, and barbaric. There were so many that some were mounted to the doors to fit them all inside.

"Now I'll be honest, I don't know what all these things are used for, but I've had to use a few of these weapons already. I'm sure I'll have to use more as time goes on."

"There are plenty to choose from," I said. Stories my Wesen friends had told me of the Grimms of yore ran through my brain. How many of these weapons were part of those tales?

"Now some Wesen can't be stopped using weapons alone. Over there are all these different potions and formulas." He pointed to the collection of multi-colored bottles I'd noticed when we first entered. I walked over to where he was pointing. "These are things you're not going to find in your local pharmacy."

"Or grocery store for that matter," Monroe added.

Bottles of various shapes and sizes, filled with all the colors of the rainbow, were clustered together on the top of the apothecary cabinet. I was more certain that's what it had to be given the nature of what was on top. Some of the bottles were corralled on a... lazy Susan? It looked like something out of a clandestine bar, but I was definitely not going to drink any of these things.

Nick moved forward and picked out a bottle of red liquid. "Now this one is Siegbarste Gift. That's what Monroe used to take down the Siegbarste with the gun." My eyes glanced at Monroe, who was nodding, but then he sat down on the trailer bed in a slump. I directed my attention back to Nick. "The word 'gift' is a German word meaning poison." A faint huff came from behind me. I held back a laugh. Monroe must have taught Nick that one from the sound of it.

I reached for a bottle of green liquid, but then jerked my hand back. No touching. I'd almost forgotten. "What's that one?"

Nick picked it up, eyeing the label. "sch… laf...trunk?"

"Hmm… Schlaf. Could mean hypnotic… something?"

We both turned to Monroe, who was giving us a smug grin as he crossed his arms.

"Not hypnotic…" I said at his expression. I closed my eyes and rummaged through the filing cabinet drawers in my brain. "Sleep." My eyes reopened to Monroe nodding with a grin.

"One point to Renée," said Monroe. "Basically, schlaftrunk means sleeping potion."

I smiled at his brilliance. But then my eyes landed back on the green liquid in Nick's hands. My smile faded. Who would need a sleeping potion? I grimaced.

"Well, good to know." Nick made his own face, setting the bottle back down. "We'll just put that back here for safe keeping." He glanced back up at me. "Do you have any questions or anything?"

"So, the Daemonfeuers…What exactly happened in the mining tunnel last night after we got out?"

Nick told us both about slaying the male dragon and then Miss Fireball surrounding herself in fire as she chanted, not listening to Nick's request to stop. So, Nick had killed a dragon and I'd been captured by one. Score one point for Nick. Not that I wanted to kill anyone, but I hated that a Grimm of a third of a year could control the situation better than I could when I'd been surrounded by this world all my life. No, the self-pity train needed to go back to its station. It happened, and I was going to move on.

Nick crossed the trailer again and bent down, opening a cabinet. "Oh, then there's the film of Hitler. You remember the coins you found info on?"

"I already saw Hitler woge," I said softly.

"You did?" Nick rose and looked to Monroe.

"It's true. She's the one who researched it at the library," Monroe said before Nick could ask. "Actually, she's the one who suggested that Hitler might be Wesen."

Nick seemed impressed as he leaned his hands against the desk. "Really? Huh."

The heat crept up my cheeks. Monroe didn't need to tell Nick all that. I was more than happy letting Nick believe Monroe had deduced the Hitler idea.

"She's got a knack for this stuff, dude."

"Well, then you need to see some of these other films. There are so many of them I haven't even watched yet."

"Maybe another time," I said. I sat back down on the trailer bed next to Monroe, who was leaning forward to see the films.

"Maybe we could watch one," he encouraged, placing his hand on my knee. "I wonder what kind of projector he has." His eyes moved around the trailer, more than likely searching for a projector.

I shook my head at him. This was overwhelming. All these ways to kill, maim, and knock out Wesen. While it was true there were some horrible ones out there, it still seemed savage. I looked up at the clock on the wall. "It's almost noon? Wow…"

Monroe lifted his wrist. "No, it's closer to one." His eyes met Nick's. "Didn't you set your clock forward?"

"Umm, no. I really didn't think about—"

Monroe was already up on his feet, stretching up for the clock on the wall. As he stretched, he sneezed loudly, knocking a candlestick off the shelf by the window.

"Monroe, watch it, please!" Nick called out.

"Sorry!" Monroe stopped and picked up the candlestick, placing it back on its shelf, and then slowly reached again for the clock, setting the time correctly. "There. Now you're good for seven months or so." He nodded at his handiwork.

"Okay. Well, thanks for that," Nick unconvincingly said.

"I stood and grasped Monroe's arm. "Perhaps we should go."

Nick seemed deflated. "Okay, well…"

"I'd like to come back and pick up where we left off," I told Nick. "Perhaps we can research into my family tree another time if that's all right with you?"

"Yeah." Nick sported his toothy grin. "We can do that. What are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow?" That was quicker than I'd expected. I glanced at Monroe, who just shrugged. "Uh, no plans. Would that be okay?"

"Sure." He tapped the book on the desk. "We can hit the books tomorrow."

"Thank you, Nick," I said. "I'm kind of glad all this is out in the open now."

He cast me a serious glance. "Just refrain from rushing into my house the next time you want to tell me something."

I nodded. "As long as you don't plan on having anymore Daemonfeuers in your bedroom." I gave him a slight smirk.

"I only like one thing that's red in my bedroom, and it's not fire."

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

I toyed with the buckle on my shoulder bag during the drive back to Monroe's. Ancient texts, weapons, and potions. It was something out of a horror movie, but it was all there plain as day and as real as it could be. And Nick had used that stuff… Monroe, too. I tried to find it revolting, but my recklessness wanted to turn around and go back. Those books alone would keep me occupied for hours. The confliction was pulling at me.

"You're awfully quiet," said Monroe, jerking me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry," I replied, looking back toward him. "There's a lot in that trailer."

"I know. And you haven't even seen half of it. Actually, I haven't either." Monroe chuckled, and then coughed loudly. "You know, I never got a tour like that before."

"Yeah, I'm sure there's plenty more to see."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing… It's just…" I looked up at him as he gave me a sideways glance. "Don't you find all that a bit—"

"A bit Bram Stoker-ish?" he said before I could say it first. Sometimes we were on the same page, fiction or otherwise. "I mean, yeah. I'm sure there's some of that stuff that was used in nefarious ways, but Nick's not like that. He's, like, Grimm: The Next Generation." He gave me a look at my blank expression. "Sorry, dumb Star Trek joke."

I laughed. "It's a bit sci-fi, that's for sure."

"Honey, it's not all that hard to fathom the other side of it, you know?"

I nodded. Although I could fathom it, I just didn't want the excitement of it building inside me the way it was. Somehow that felt wrong… completely and utterly wrong.

"So is that why you wanted to leave? 'Cause Nick was ready to start going through those books today."

"I just needed out of there. When we go back tomorrow, I'll be better prepared."

"It was the weapons, right? Maybe he should have held off on those until later."

"No, it wasn't that… It's just… There's a lot riding on what he finds, and I want to know, but then again once I know…" I trailed off with a sigh.

"We're gonna find out, together, and then we'll go from there." He squeezed my hand. "Whatever we find out, it'll be okay."

"Maybe tomorrow, we'll just look at books and keep the conversation of Wesen death to a minimum."

"I was kinda hoping he'd want to show us one of those films," Monroe replied. "They looked pretty old, so he'd need a good size projector. A Keystone maybe? I haven't seen a Keystone in a long time."

"Maybe we can watch a regular movie instead," I suggested. "Something happy with rainbows and butterflies would be preferred."

Monroe laughed. "Well, I have plans to keep your mind occupied when we get back to my place." He grinned at me. "We still have clocks to set back in the bedroom."

"How could I forget?" I grinned back.

A/N: Okay, so Nick is in the loop! Finally, huh? (;