Chapter 25
The next hour I was like a machine. I was transcribing and entering data into my laptop effortlessly, translating as I went. Why hadn't I thought of doing this with my own notebooks? It was so much easier to read than on paper. But my notebooks looked nothing like these. Mine were organized already. These were a hodgepodge of descriptions, cures, weapons, and potions. It was a mess. And then to add to the chaos were all the different languages. Some pages would switch from English to German right in the middle. And there was more than just German. French, Latin, Spanish, and even some Japanese were written out in these texts. Grimms seemed to span almost every continent.
I pulled out a large, maroon book labeled Blutbaden in gold foil lettering on its spine. How much information could there be on Blutbaden to fill it up? I bit the inside of my cheek as I opened it. The large sketch of a Blutbad in full woge was prominently displayed on the first page. Someone had colored in the eyes a deep red, adding to its malevolent countenance. The next few pages gave the illustrations of the anatomy and of Blutbaden ripping and tearing humans to shreds. The graphic depictions ran a chill up my spine.
Eagerly, I searched for info about full moons, but the only references were embedded in the German texts. I could interpret portions of it, but the sentences didn't make any sense. I must not have been translating as well as I thought. Even Google Translate wasn't shedding any light. I sighed aloud. Monroe could read it just fine, but it would defeat the purpose to ask, 'Hey, Honey. Could you translate this German text about your ancestors, so I can understand what you mean by a full moon doesn't sit well with you?' Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.
I began to read the parts in English. Some pages gave basic knowledge; Blutbaden were often violent in packs, especially when they saw red. Blutbaden had burning red eyes, their fingernails would extend into long, curving claws, and their rows of teeth became sharp and pointed. These things I knew intimately. There was a side-note about the color red:
The sight of red produces rage and a desire for bloodshed.
If the color is worn, it instigates a need in the Blutbad
to rip the throat and devour the wearer.
WEAR AT YOUR OWN PERIL!
The warning at the bottom of the page was scrawled out in bold letters with red ink. There was too much irony in that ink color. I was half-tempted to add in there that red could cause the Blutbad to devour the wearer in a whole other way. That night of passion in Kentucky sure included some devouring. I slightly blushed at the thought. Red was definitely Monroe's favorite color. But the amount of restraint that it must've taken to prevent the other things, especially with his relapses… Well, that still scared the crap out of me. Did he have to worry about control when he was with another Blutbad? What if continued sex with Monroe became a daunting task to maintain control? I pushed the negative thoughts aside and kept on reading.
Several pages further had some noteworthy info on the Blutbad olfactory system.
A Blutbad's sense of smell can only be weakened by an herb called Aconitum Lycoctonum (Wolfsbane). This herb is native to Europe and Northern Asia. Poisonous if ingested, but effective topically to mask the human scent. Applying this herb will confuse Blutbad senses, allowing the opportunity to move in closer to their territory. Aconitum Lycoctonum seems to have no physical adverse effects when applied topically on Blutbaden.
Interesting to know. I added the facts to my mental filing cabinet. Not that I would find any of the herb here, since it wasn't indigenous to North America, but it was interesting nonetheless.
I leafed through more information and came across a section on weaknesses.
When Blutbaden woge, it sets off a shift in muscle placement with an increase of musculature surrounding the upper lumbar area while leaving the lower lumbar vertebrae entirely vulnerable and exposed. Herein contains a cluster of nerve endings that when struck by blunt force, can incapacitate the Wesen. The pain appears debilitating and allows time to escape or to kill. Be warned, this only disables the Wesen temporarily! Haste must be made before it is able to move again! To ensure death, the Doppel-armbrust, crafted distinctively to hunt Blutbaden, must be used to poison them.
Hmm… So, there was a physical weakness. To the left was another anatomical drawing with the nerves outlined. Another fact added to my mental filing cabinet. I doubted I'd need to use that knowledge, but it never hurt to know. What the heck was a Doppel-armbrust? It didn't sound like anything I wanted to have to use. Doppel meant double. That I understood pretty easily. Armbrust? I had no clue. I Google'd to find the full translation as a double crossbow. Right, because a single crossbow just wouldn't be enough? Well, if it was designed specifically for Blutbaden, then perhaps it wasn't.
Throughout the rest of the book more stories were written about evil Blutbaden and the long history of enmity against the Grimms. It was like reading the text messages I'd been receiving since I brought Monroe to Louisville. Even back in the day there were many warnings about the terrible Blutbad. I shook my head. Nothing was mentioned about Wieder, and I laughed sarcastically. Of course not. Why would the Grimms write about anything good? The next few pages had some side notes that seemed newly written about Wieder. Those had to be from Nick. At least future generations would know there were some good Blutbaden out there, too.
I thumbed through more pages and stopped on the section of Blutbad mating.
Like most wolves, Blutbaden mate for life. During their period of courtship, the male and female Blutbad will become very inseparable, staying in close proximity almost all of the time, even while they are sleeping. The Blutbad mating process is different from typical wolf mating and involves the male engaging in a chase of the female to show dominance. If the female is captured, then the male takes the female from behind and brands her with his bite at the base of her neck, marking her as his own. This prevents other Blutbaden from mating with her. Similar to wolves, this process happens in the winter months, before spring.
I read the passage three times, my eyes wider each time I read the words. Oh, holy hell! So, Kentucky in the woods… Was this what we did? Was this why it wasn't a game to Monroe? No wonder he wanted me to stay over all the time.
I sighed loudly as I shut the book. That was all the Blutbad info I wanted to read for today.
Clearing my thoughts, I went back to other Wesen translations. So many of these were in German, and I was doing what I could to translate, but even Google wasn't much help when it came to the… What had Monroe called it? High German? If only I'd learned more of that language. French had been so natural, but German just wouldn't stick in my brain. I'd always found that odd. I didn't have a photographic memory, but it was pretty darn close. The German should've been easier to learn since it was similar to English. I continued with rough translations, but Monroe was better suited for this kind of thing.
My database was growing as I organized the material in the books to the computer. The trailer door creaked open, and I shot my eyes up. Nick was standing by the door. Time had escaped me, and I glanced at my watch.
"What are you working on?" Nick asked as he remained by the door, hovering. "And why are you listening to that song?"
"This one is a classic," I grinned. Annie Lennox was playing on my MP3 player through the laptop.
"Sweet dreams are made of these.
Who am I to disagree…"
I sang the words. It had a great beat for running.
"Oh, I know the song, unfortunately. Would you please turn it off?" Nick asked with annoyance. I stopped my MP3 player, and he sat down on the trailer bed.
"What's wrong with it?" I questioned, trying not to grumble.
Nick told me the rest of the story about the Postman Blutbad and the unfortunate events at the local college. His retelling was more graphic than the drawings of Blutbaden I'd seen earlier. "That damn song reminds me of that case," he said while closing his eyes briefly.
I nodded. I really didn't want to hear that song again either after that, to be honest.
Nick opened his eyes and asked, "So what are you working on?"
"I've been categorizing the different Wesen into this database," I told Nick as he stood up and moved closer to the desk.
"Categorizing?" he asked with a tilt of his head as he looked toward my laptop.
"Yeah. So now you can type in keywords, and Voila! Your Wesen comes up."
"Really?" Nick seemed bemused as he stepped forward.
I rotated the screen in his direction. "Okay. Let's say you see a new Wesen, and you know they have fangs." I typed in the word 'fangs' on the search bar. "See, we have twenty-two Wesen with fangs from the books. Wanna go further? How about felines with fangs?" I typed some more. Nick was completely engrossed. "That narrows the search to nine."
"So, what if I want to choose one?" Nick asked.
I clicked on one of the choices. "Here, this one is Mauvais Dentes. French instead of German," I noted almost to myself. "Mauvais Dentes is French for 'bad teeth.'" I scrolled down the page. "Oh, he looks vicious," I commented as the sketch from the Grimm book appeared on the screen.
"You have the pages scanned in?" He glanced over at my portable scanner on the desk.
"Well, some of them. It'll take some time to complete the database. When I'm done it'll be like a… Grimm Google." I smiled proudly. My organizational skills were skyrocketing in the trailer. All these books could be archived and ready to view with a touch of a button.
"That's incredible, Renée!" Nick said as he tried a few for himself.
"Now if you still want to use the books, which I can understand because I'm partial to paper myself, the record tells you the book and the page to find it. I've organized them on the shelf over there.
Nick looked a little dumbfounded as he surveyed the row of books.
"I haven't gotten far with this project, so if you hate it I understand." I waited to see his reaction.
"No, it's impressive!" Nick went back to pressing buttons on the laptop. "I just never thought of going about it this way."
"Fortunately, I have a good memory, so I'm quickly learning all these new Wesen. These books are so…"
"Fascinating." Nick finished my sentence, and I nodded. The history in these archives was beyond anything Chloe and I had shared.
We spent an hour going over records, and I was typing away into the computer as we went along.
"Hey, have you found a record on Schneetmachers?" I asked, reviewing my notes.
"No, and I've looked before." Nick shook his head. "Monroe mentioned them once. He said something about them being savages."
"My friend mentioned them one time and Monroe did, too. I have no clue what they are."
Nick shrugged. "Maybe we'll find something while we're looking. Oh, but look what I did find!" said Nick as he pulled out a bottle of Jose Cuervo from one of the cabinets behind the desk. "I never knew Aunt Marie was a drinker." He chuckled and wiped the dust off with his hand.
I grinned. "Sometimes you need a little nip during a long night of research."
"Guess so." Nick looked it over, shaking his head.
"How old is that bottle?" I asked. The label was faded on the front. "Are you sure there isn't some potion mixed in there?" I didn't trust any liquids in this trailer.
"It's unopened." Nick grinned. "Maybe it was a good year?"
I laughed at him. "I don't think tequila works like wine."
"Let's try it and see," Nick decided, opening the bottle. I couldn't say no to tequila.
(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)
Countless passes of the bottle later I was trashed. Absolutely trashed.
"…and then I'm trying to call him from the hospital, and the first words out of his mouth are that he had more info on that watch. Monroe is so over the top sometimes," Nick laughed as he took another swig and passed the Cuervo back to me. I had no clue how much I had drunk, and frankly, I was in no position to really care.
"Monroe's brain is like…. It's like a machine…" I giggled and leaned my head back against the weapons cabinet. We were both sitting next to each other on the floor. I took another drink and handed it back off to Nick.
"I get the feeling you hate me," Nick said out of the blue.
I turned my head to look at him. "Hate you? No… I don't hate you, umm, exactly," I responded, trying to find a better way to say it, but the alcohol was clouding my words. "You frustrate me. It's like… It's like you enjoy interrogating and snapping at me."
"You lied to me the first month I knew you." He scoffed and took another drink. "If you'd just tell me the truth, I wouldn't have to question you. I am trying to trust you, but you make it difficult with all your secrets."
"You're secretive, too. Your girlfriend and your partner have no clue... You're no different, Nick," I reminded him with a satisfied grin. "You don't need to know everything about me," I said, grabbing the tequila bottle from him and having another drink. "Besides, that first month I was trying to trust you, too. Just when I felt comfortable, you'd go back to giving me the third degree." I handed him back the bottle.
"I knew you were hiding something," Nick mumbled taking another sip and passing it back to me. "It doesn't take a detective long to figure these things out."
I gave him a sly grin. "But you didn't know what I was hiding."
"But if you had just told me… It would've been so much easier."
"Well, I didn't think it was wise to just let you know what I could see," I retorted. "I grew up with Wesen friends telling me horror stories about evil Grimms."
Nick laughed. "Oh, come on. Do I really look all that menacing?"
"No, but neither does Monroe. But when he had me pinned against the wall… Oh, never mind." I was telling Nick way too much. Damn alcohol.
Nick snapped his head in my direction. "He had you against a wall? When the hell did that happen?"
"It was…" I sighed. "I made a poor decision and he reacted. Just forget I said anything."
Nick angled himself toward me. "No, you can't tell me something like that and then expect me to forget about it."
I shook my head. I let him know about my red sweater test. Well, as best as I could under drunken circumstances.
"Renée, you might have been killed!" Nick said with immediate worry. "I'm not saying Monroe would have hurt you, but even so…"
"My recklessness has a mind of its own sometimes."
"Did your recklessness tell you to run up my stairs that night with the Daemonfeuer?"
"Yep," I said with a chuckle.
"Do you do that often?"
"It comes in waves. I just react. Don't you do the same thing?"
Nick sighed. "Yeah, but I'm police force trained. I have a background, you don't." Past the drunken slur in his voice there was sternness.
"I could learn." Buffy Summers had learned to use weaponry. I could do that. Nick could be my Giles. No, Nick wasn't the Giles type. Monroe was more like Giles. Nick was like… God, I was really drunk.
"I'm sure you could, but for now you've gotta think before you react." He touched a finger to my nose as he spoke. "This isn't a TV show."
I laughed and took another swig of Cuervo. "Easier said than done."
We talked more about Wesen and our personal lives. Granted, it wasn't intellectual conversation with all the tequila we'd had, but it was good.
"I like this," Nick smiled at me as he reached for the bottle. "I like getting to know you."
"We're drunk, Nick," I slowly shook my head. "We'll be lucky if we remember half of this conversation tomorrow."
"You might be reckless, but you're talented," Nick said. "What you've done with that computer over there is… extra-ordinary." He spaced out the word, but I was too drunk to correct him. "You're pretty amazing, you know that?" He brushed a strand of hair from my face with his free hand as his blue-green eyes looked into mine. Even through my drunkenness there was something more hiding behind them from that comment.
"I just do what I can." I stupidly grinned as I nodded.
"You sure do." Nick leaned in, and I sobered up quickly.
"Whoa, Nick!" My words rang out as we both backed up. I tried to stand, but I was way too drunk for that.
"Dammit, no! I love Juliette!" The words rushed out of him as he held his head and cursed some more at himself.
"And I love Monroe!" I blurted out. It was the first time I'd said that aloud, and I was saying it to Nick Burkhardt.
Nick flashed his eyes at me. "You do?" He seemed as surprised by my words as I was saying them.
"Yeah, but I…" I floundered from the alcohol and with what had just happened.
Nick pointed at me. "Look, you and I…"
"We're just really drunk… and-and… nothing happened… and that's it, right?" I managed to get out the full sentence.
"Right …" he agreed with a shake of his head.
"Stupid tequila," I muttered. "I really ought to go." I tried to stand again and failed miserably.
"You can't leave in this condition," Nick stated quickly as he staggered to his feet, setting the tequila on the desk. "And… Well, I can't leave in this condition either." He wavered quite a bit as he stood.
"I'll call Monroe, and he can come get me." I pulled out my cell phone, trying to press the right buttons. "I'll pick my car up in the morning."
"He can't know about this," Nick urged.
"There's nothing for him to know… Nothing happened," I reminded him. Nick was shaking his head. Nothing would've happened, right? But then again… No, stop thinking.
"But then again, what?" Nick asked. Apparently, I was talking aloud again. I really needed to stop drinking. The brief moment of sobriety was gone, and I was back to being drunk as a skunk. Although, I'd never witnessed a drunken Üblergeruch before.
"What's an Üblergeruch?" He gave me a confused look.
"Nothing," I said. Just shut up, Renée. I set the phone on my knee since I couldn't hit the right buttons.
"Here, let me call him," Nick offered, reaching down for my cell, and pressing the buttons much faster than I could. He let out a laugh as he held the phone to his ear. "Hey Sexy back at ya! Yeah, it's Nick… Yeah, would you be able to come to the trailer? No, not for anything like that… Uh, yeah I am, and that's kinda why I'm calling… Umm, so is Renée… Uhh… We found Aunt Marie's hidden bottle of Jose Cuervo… Uh, well it sounded like a good idea at the time… Okay… See you in a few." He hung up and handed the phone back to me.
"Was he mad?"
Nick shrugged. "I don't think so." With how drunk he was, would he be able to tell? "He said he was in some meeting, though," Nick added. Crap, Monroe's meeting! I'd forgotten about that.
The room was spinning quite a bit as I worked myself off the floor to the nearby desk chair. I moved back to the laptop, and after making sure the work I'd completed was saved, I closed it. At least I was conscious enough to do that correctly. We sat in silence for a long time. I filled my mind with other things, anything else besides what had just happened. I had two trainings coming up this week. The electric bill was due on Monday. I was out of milk. My brain was in a swimming pool of tequila, splashing around. It hurt to think.
"You should tell him," Nick said, breaking the silence.
I flashed him a look. "There's nothing to tell," I replied holding my spinning head.
"No, I mean that you love him," Nick said. "I think you'll be surprised at how he responds." He gave me that dumb, toothy grin of his.
"Now wait… You can't say anything, Nick." My eyes moved to focus on him, but I was beginning to see 'doppel.'
"I wouldn't," he continued to grin, "but if you tell him then I don't have to." Oh God, he better not tell Monroe!
"It's too soon," I practically yelled out. I didn't want to have this conversation with Nick. With how drunk I was, it might slip out anyways tonight. The bottle of Cuervo was half empty. I was normally a half full kinda gal, but with what had happened tonight I was completely pessimistic.
"It's never too soon if it's in your heart." Nick put his hand to his chest, grinning up to both his ears.
"Right, says the guy who told me he's had an engagement ring hidden in his sock drawer for how many months now?" I laughed.
"Hey, now that's different," he retorted. "I was going through a lot of… changes after I bought that ring." Nick was reclined on the trailer bed and looked about as drunk as I felt. God, who was drunker, him or me? Was drunker a word? Oh, who cared? "Besides, I have plans with that soon," he added after a long pause.
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, really."
The knock on the trailer door halted our discussion.
"It's open," Nick called out, and Monroe entered the trailer. He was wearing his red and black plaid shirt with just a hint of a black button-down shirt poking from the top.
Monroe sighed heavily as he looked at both of us. "Dude, how much did you guys drink?" He walked toward the desk and picked up the bottle, shaking his head as he set it back down. "Really? Was this full when you started?"
"Uhh… It was unopened." I looked up at Monroe. He seemed kind of mad.
"It had to be tequila, huh?" He combed his fingers through his wild, curly hair.
"It's my weakness." I grinned up at Monroe. "Well, one of my weaknesses." He was my real weakness.
"Oh, you're gonna be fun tonight." Monroe rubbed his bearded chin, hiding his smile. Crap… Must be quiet. Loose lips sink ships.
"Well, it's a good thing ours have already collided, huh?" Monroe replied, chuckling this time. Dang it! I couldn't keep a thought inside my tequila-filled head.
"Did you know that tequila doesn't age like wine?" Nick asked, leaning back further on the bed. A dopey grin was glued to his face. He was as lit as a Christmas tree.
"Uh, yeah. Of course I know that. Everyone knows that." He looked at Nick. "Okay. Well, almost everyone, I guess," he added and rolled his eyes slightly back in my direction.
I giggled in spite of myself.
"Are you ready to go?" Monroe asked me.
"Take thee to the VW," I replied while holding one hand up. I must have looked a lot like Christmas, too.
Monroe sighed and helped me out of the chair. "Oh, what fools these Grimms be."
"I don't think that's how the quote goes," Nick slurred.
Monroe simply sighed as I scooped up my laptop bag while the strong Blutbad led me out of the trailer.
"Bye, Nick. This was fun!" I waved and laughed on the way out the door.
Monroe had me in the passenger seat quickly. I struggled to buckle up. After two attempts, I finally found the latch.
"Overnight bag and work laptop…. in the trunk. Could you get them?" I managed to pull out my car keys.
Monroe nodded, and I handed him them over. He put my things in the back seat.
"Dear God, I'm drunk," I remarked, trying not to giggle again.
"I've noticed," Monroe retorted with a quick sigh as he closed his car door and turned on the engine. "So, umm, how much did you have?"
"Enough," I replied with a smirk.
"You have no idea, do ya?"
"Not in the least." I leaned my head back and closed my eyes to keep the world from spinning. "Thank you for saving me," I slurred.
"Well, you know, I'd hate for you to have to spend the night with Nick," Monroe laughed. My face grimaced more than I would've liked to let on. I blacked out my thoughts, lest I said anything more, and I hummed quietly instead.
Monroe chuckled. "What's playing on Renée's mental jukebox tonight?"
"Umm… Cranberries."
"Come again?"
"The Cranberries." I giggled.
"Don't know them."
"Didn't think you would," I said with a drunken smile. "I'd let you hear, but your VW isn't MP3 savvy."
"Yeah, well, the VW doesn't need to be," replied Monroe. "My radio does just fine on its own."
"It's like… going way back in time when I'm in here," I said in a sing-song voice.
"Hey now… This car is the same age as me."
"Like I said… Waaaay back in time." I chuckled.
Monroe gave me a sour face. "Not funny."
I cleared my throat. "Sorry, just ignore me."
"So… Cranberries." Monroe went back to music. "How do the lyrics go?"
"Now, Mr. Monroe…" I pointed a wavering finger at him. "I'm not singing in this condition. That could be bad… very, very bad."
He reached for my finger and gave it a small kiss. "Oh, ya never know. It could be interesting."
"You just want me to say what you've wanted me to…" I put a hand to my lips. Someone please shut me up!
"What do I want you to say?" he asked. I raised my head to Monroe's widened eyes staring at me instead of the road.
I didn't answer. Not good to answer. Instead, I hummed 'Dreams' by The Cranberries again.
"Humming doesn't answer the question," he teasingly remarked.
"Sure it does, if you know the words that go with the tune."
"Uhh… Which I don't."
I leaned my head against his arm, which helped with the spinning, and I softly sang.
Oh, my life is changing every day,
In every possible way.
I know I've felt like this before, but now I'm feeling it even more,
Because it came from you.
And then I open up and see the person falling here is me,
A different way to be.
I want more, impossible to ignore,
Impossible to ignore.
And now I tell you openly, you have my heart so don't hurt me.
You're what I couldn't find.
A totally amazing mind, so understanding and so kind;
You're everything to me.
"See, it's bad to sing drunk," I said after finishing.
"No, it's kinda wonderful actually," he replied in a soothing tone. My eyes were closed, so who knew what went along with that tone.
I snuggled on his arm. "Yeah, wonderful."
"I think I really dig that song now. Is it on the playlist?"
I laughed. "There's a lot on the playlist."
"And someday I'll get to hear it, right?"
"If you're a good boy… sure."
"Hey, that wasn't a jab, was it?"
"Oh, no. Not… at… all," I chuckled while swishing my finger in time with each word. I really needed to stop drinking.
"Okay. So, aside from killing off brain cells, what did you and Nick do tonight?"
My stomach flipped, but I managed to say, "Research."
"Anything interesting pop up?"
I sat back in my seat. "Did you know Nick has a whole book just on Blutbaden in there? Have you seen it yet? It dates back to the sixtee-"
"No, I haven't seen it," Monroe shot back before I could finish my sentence.
"Oh, but you need to. Well, some of it is kind of savage. Maybe it's best that you don't." I was rambling.
Monroe cleared his throat. "You know that I'll tell you whatever info you want to know about Blutbaden. Being one kinda helps, you know?" Would he tell me all the gruesome tales and about the war between Blutbaden and Grimms? Probably not. Oh my, but then the other things I'd read tonight…
"What did you read exactly?" The curiosity in his voice was thick. Oh, yeah. That's right… no filter. Great.
I lifted my head slowly and peered right into his eyes. "Just the usual stuff; reactions to red, speed, agility, hearing... mating rituals." I laughed again as I said that last part.
Monroe shifted uncomfortably while his seat squeaked under him. "Oh, God," he muttered as he stared at the road.
"So… What did we do exactly in the back woods of Kentucky, Mr. Monroe?" I asked and held my breath. I'd just hold it until he acknowledged what I feared was true.
Monroe whimpered out an, "Oh man!" then he sighed loudly. "Well... Renée, umm..." He fumbled his words like a football.
The air rushed out of me. "It's true then? You… mated with me?!" Holy hell!
Monroe's eye widened. "Renée, oh man!" His voice went up an octave. "There's a certain… Well, I mean… What we did was…" Panic ran amok through his words. I was so drunk that I actually saw it running. "Look, this isn't how I wanted to have this conversation."
"No, it's fine. I feel bad that my Aunt Donna wasn't there to take pictures. She'll be disappointed now that I'm practically married according to some kind of Blutbad law."
"Okay, now let's not get carried away," Monroe said flatly. "It's supposed to be under a full moon, and there's a bit more to it than that. But, I mean, technically it's what we did, but... Oh, hell... Renée, this isn't how I wanted to discuss… that night." He sighed heavily while gripping the steering wheel.
It wasn't much of a candlelight dinner discussion, either.
Monroe turned to me. "Okay, now that was uncalled for." I was speaking aloud again. Crap.
"Sorry," I said. "I don't have a filter on my thoughts."
"It's just… Well, it's not the easiest thing to describe… especially after it happens. I mean, it was awkward enough when I heard it the first time during my dad's 'birds and bees' talk."
I laughed and rested my head against the coolness of the passenger window as we drove down Southwest Naito Parkway. So, I was his mate. Wow... And I was worried I was moving too fast if I said, 'I love you.' Crap, had I said that aloud, too? Monroe didn't respond. Good, that thought had stayed in my head.
"Wolves mate for life," I said softly, "so are you sure you wouldn't want this with another wolf?"
Monroe stopped the car and spun me around from the window as I held back retching. "Renée, now don't say that! I've never felt this way about anyone. You're all I want."
"Shouldn't there be another few words in there somewhere...?" I asked without thinking. Oh, no. Renée, hush. Just hush right now!
"Yeah, well… I agree there should be. But..." Monroe stopped and shook his head as he put the car back into drive. "How about we talk about this once, you know, Jose is out of your system, okay?"
"Sure, sure. Let's blame it on the alcohol," I sang and laughed again.
Waterfront Park and the Williamette River were blurring past Monroe's driver side window. The clusters of trees rushed by as my stomach knotted. My face flushed with heat. What did the 'but' mean? No, best not to think about it.
"Dude, you've had way too much," Monroe commented as he glanced over at me. "You know, I've heard the term 'glassy-eyed' before, but I've never seen it up close." He reached for my hand. "The street lights are hitting your eyes all funny."
Oh, I didn't feel well. The car was spinning like a tornado had picked it up. I leaned my head against the glass again to steady myself. Maybe if I'd drunk more tequila I'd be knocked out instead of blathering to him like an idiot. Wait. Had I thought that or had I said it? I wasn't sure anymore.
"You're not blathering," Monroe stated. Okay, so I'd said it.
"I just need you to, umm, ignore whatever comes out of my mouth right now. I'm in no position to carry on a conversation." My phone rang on that last statement, and I scrambled to find it.
"Hellooo?" I chanted without bothering to check the caller ID.
"Renée?" Jack's voice questioned. "Is that you?" I really should've checked the caller ID.
"Oh, God," I whined as my speech spilled into itself. "What do you want?"
"We need to talk about last weekend." Jack actually sounded sober. Well, this was a novelty. "I know I saw something in that monster you're dating, and I need you to tell me what he is."
"Jack, not tonight," I sighed.
The VW jerked forward as Monroe slammed on the brakes, and the seat belt dug into my chest. He growled with red eyes blazing. My drunkenness was seeing three red eyes, at least. I slowly shook my head at Monroe and waved him to continue driving.
"Are you drunk, Renée?" Jack asked.
I giggled into the phone. "Wow, you are a clever one."
"This isn't funny. Pete is trying to convince me I'm crazy or something, but I wasn't that drunk. Is he a werewolf?"
"A werewolf?" My breath caught in my throat, and I coughed. "Listen to yourself, Jack," I said after I could breathe again. "There's no such thing." This was true. Blutbaden, yes. Werewolves, no.
"He's not human, that's for sure. I will find out, Renée, and when I do…"
"What, Jack? What are you going to do?" I mocked him.
"I'm going hunting."
I looked over at Monroe. A lowly growl came from him as he drove. No doubt he was listening to what Jack was saying.
"Oh, Jack." I laughed again. "Maybe that bottle of Jim Beam they had you drinking from was bad."
"It wasn't the alcohol, Renée. Don't patronize me." I almost gave Jack kudos for knowing the word 'patronize,' but I worked hard to refrain.
"Jack… Seriously, just think about it... You were your usual drunk self, and you were coming at me, all cursing and yelling. Monroe did what he thought was right and slammed you against a wall. Maybe you hit your head and saw something because of that. But really? A werewolf? Next you'll say that Pete's a vampire, and I'm the bride of Frankenstein."
"I'm glad you find this all funny, but I know I'm not crazy."
"What's going on with Scores?" I asked to change the subject. I was drunk and chatty. "Why didn't you tell me it was about to bottom out?"
Jack was silent for a moment. "It's not a priority right now," he simply replied.
"But that place means everything to you. You can't let it close."
"When you left…" He stopped briefly and sighed. "When you moved to Portland, you left a hole in me, Renée. The bar didn't seem to matter so much after that. Nothing mattered much. Everything reminds me of you. I don't want to be in Louisville. This city was us, and now…" He stopped again. "Now you're not in it, and I don't want to be, either. So to hell with the fucking bar. I'll just go back to St. Louis and start working with my brothers again."
It was the most eloquent Jack had ever been. Or was I so drunk that it just sounded good? I wasn't sure.
"You don't give up on things, Jack. At least find someone to take over the bar. Don't let your baby fall by the wayside."
"You know I love you, Renée," Jack continued. "I can't apologize enough for you to ever understand. Sam was just… I don't know what I was thinking when she came around. I couldn't control it." The broken record had returned. My head was already spinning, and I didn't need anything else to add to it. "Come back to me, and I won't have to go." Was Jack pleading? Jack never pleaded.
The phone was pulled from my hand before I could respond. "Look, dude. That ship has sailed. Please stop calling my girlfriend, and have fun in St. Louis." Monroe hung up my phone.
"Okay, that wasn't necessary," I said.
Monroe scoffed. "Uh, yeah, it was." I was too drunk to argue.
"Jack thinks you're a werewolf." I laughed to keep from crying.
"I heard. Let him think whatever. He's there, we're here. No one is going to believe him."
"Jack is tenacious," I said while leaning back. "He slept on the porch the night I found out about him cheating. Said he wasn't leaving until we talked." I shook my head. "Sorry, I just need to shut up now."
"No, it's fine," Monroe said. He was a bad liar. I hummed softly, closing my eyes once more.
"'Werewolves of London?' Really?"
"Sorry. Bad habits," I muttered softly. 'Werewolves of Portland' was more apropos.
A/N: Whoa, so lots of info in this chapter! Renée is organizing the trailer... And boy did she learn a lot tonight And what happened with the tequila, huh? Renée just needs to stop drinking. LOL!
Jack just won't let what he saw go, huh?
STAY TUNED...