Thanks to everyone who read, and as always reviews are appreciated.


Ephram turned onto what he thought was the right street, freeing up one hand to dig around in the center console for the scrap of paper that would confirm the address, but a group of people carrying instrument cases exiting a building a block up made his search redundant. And since on-street parking was free at this time of night and several cars were in the process of pulling out in front of him, he picked one of the recently-opened spots and pulled in.

He was not happy to be doing this. To say the least. Intentionally going to meet a Blutbad...it wasn't something that any sensible Reinigen wanted to do.

It wasn't something that any normal Reinigen wanted to do, as much as he hated to phrase it like that.

Roddy was different. He always had been, the musical abilities that had drawn Ephram's attention to Anne years after he'd given up on the idea of settling down with anyone magnified a hundred times in their only child, and on top of that he'd inherited a double dose of Ephram's independent streak as well. If it was difficult for Ephram to maintain ties with the other Reinigen in the city, Roddy had all but given up trying by the time he'd reached his teen years, and Ephram couldn't help but be worried about what affect that would have on his future. Being Wesen in a human world was already hard enough, a Wesen in a human world without a support network...

Ephram gave himself a shake and shut the truck off. None of that was anything new under the sun, and tonight he had other things to worry about because predatory Wesen were even more dangerous to their kind than humans were, and he had no idea what Roddy thought he was doing. Roddy had said that this specific Blutbad was nice, but plenty of people were 'nice' until they had you alone and helpless. It didn't take much to leave a Reinigen helpless in front of a Blutbad.

At least the knots of people he could see exiting the community center with their instruments were all older. It made sense when he thought about it; it might be nighttime now but Thursday rehearsals were in the middle of the day which would rule out most working-age adults. Small comfort, maybe, knowing what any Blutbad would be capable of, but even if he was small Roddy was smart and quick on his feet. In a pinch hopefully he'd be able to outrun this Monroe if—when—he proved dangerous.

Ephram climbed out of the truck and headed across the street towards the building, letting himself in on the heels of another group leaving. Only one hallway was lit which made it obvious where he was supposed to go, and he made his way down to the open room at the far end.

"Can I help you?" one of the men exiting asked, hanging back behind the other three he had been walking with.

He didn't have an instrument, which seemed odd since he did have a folder tucked under one arm, but Ephram had no good reason not to answer. "I'm here to pick up my son. Roddy?"

The man broke into a smile, and he offered a hand. "Daniel Donovan, I'm the conductor. Roddy's a great kid, you must be very proud."

"I am," Ephram agreed.

"He and Monroe are working through the bowings for the duet," Daniel continued, waving towards the room marked 'Auditorium.' "Apparently they don't like whatever was written in from the last time it was played. You'll probably want to interrupt, or they'll be at it until the janitor kicks them out."

"Thank you."

He nodded and headed after the group who'd paused to wait for him further down the hall, and Ephram squared his shoulders and opened one of the double doors. There were only two people left which made it easy enough to locate Roddy, but the sight of the man with his son just about made his heart stop, because that was no retiree. An adult male Blutbad in his prime was already one of the most dangerous predators on the planet, and the way they were crouched on the stage next to each other, going back and forth with pencils between papers spread around them...he could crush Roddy's skull with one swipe before Roddy even saw it coming.

And then his head snapped up, eyes flashing red as he shifted sideways, and Roddy ended up tucked behind his shoulder.

Roddy looked more startled than frightened when his head popped up again, and a moment later his expression cleared. "Hey, Dad." Horrifyingly enough he actually tugged at the Blutbad's arm. "Come on, it's just my dad. I told you like fifteen minutes ago that he was going to be picking me up today."

The Blutbad glanced back at Roddy, and for an instant Ephram fully expected his son to be disemboweled in front of him, but the Blutbad only relaxed and gave a slight nod, returning fully to a human visage. "Right. Sorry." He turned back to Ephram and amazingly enough repeated the apology. "Sorry about that. It's been..." He shook his head. "It's been a long week. A very long week." One shoulder twitched and he winced.

Ephram wasn't about to dispute the apology, and he stepped the rest of the way into the room and told himself to stay calm as the door swung shut behind him.

Roddy pushed himself to his feet, hopping down off the stage—God help them both, he hadn't even been braced to attempt a quick getaway—and the Blutbad stood and followed. On his feet it was obvious that he was more than a match for Ephram height-wise, and unlike his son Ephram had inherited his own father's height. He was probably half again as broad across the shoulders, too, although that took considerably less doing.

"Hey. How was rehearsal?" Ephram asked as Roddy approached, trying to keep his voice steady even though most of his attention was on the Blutbad coming up behind his son. Unless he was very much mistaken, the stiff posture and fading bruises on the man's face indicated a recent fight, and if that was the 'week' he'd had Ephram did not want to know.

"Pretty good," Roddy said, waving a hand back towards the stage. "We're just trying to work through what the bowings should be because whoever wrote in the last set did a crappy job and if we tried to follow them for real someone would probably end up getting stabbed in the eye." He looked up at the Blutbad who came to a halt beside him. "This is Monroe. He's doing the cello part for the duet. Monroe, this is my dad, Ephram."

"It's nice to meet you," Monroe said, offering a hand. "Really, sorry about that, I didn't mean to startle you."

For lack of anything else to do, Ephram shook the proffered hand cautiously, and there was no indication of the killer grip that the man had to be capable of.

"It's been great playing with Roddy this summer," Monroe continued, nudging Roddy's shoulder lightly. "He's pretty sharp."

Roddy ducked his head and muttered something unintelligible, but there was no disguising his pleased flush, and Ephram's heart twisted a little even as he couldn't help a flash of a proud smile. He was painfully aware that his son wasn't treated very well by a lot of people, even if humans and Wesen had different reasoning it worked out the same in the end, so maybe it wasn't a surprise that he'd soak up approval where he could get it. As terrifying as this particular situation seemed.

"I think I'm a little early if you still had things you wanted to work on," Ephram offered after a moment. This was clearly happening, and even if his heart was still beating too quickly, outright panic wasn't going to help anything. Especially since no threat had actually been given.

Roddy looked up at Monroe again.

"Try one run with what we've got now, and then we can both work through the rest at home and compare notes on Thursday?" Monroe suggested.

Roddy nodded. "Play it out to the end, though?"

"Works for me."

The two of them headed back to the stage, collecting the papers on the floor and setting them up on their respective stands.

Monroe was good, Ephram had to acknowledge as they began to play. Not as good as Roddy, maybe—granted that he was biased, but that didn't mean that he wasn't right—but good enough to keep up with Roddy which not a lot of people could do. And they both seemed pleased with the results when they brought it to a close.

It didn't take them long to pack up, and then Monroe matched their pace down the hall. Which wasn't exactly comforting, and the fact that he caught Roddy's shoulder and held him in place for a moment when they stepped outside the front door was even less so, especially when his eyes flashed red. He released Roddy again a moment later, though, smiling and wishing them both a pleasant evening, and Roddy waved in return and shook his head quickly at Ephram.

Ephram kept his mouth shut until they were both safely locked in the truck and then braced both hands on the wheel and turned to glare at his son. "Are you insane? You got in a car with that man?"

"It's fine," Roddy said. "He's not going to hurt me."

"And you're basing that on what?" Roddy might be eighteen, but unlike a lot of teenagers he damn well ought to have learned that he wasn't immortal by now.

An awkward shrug. "I don't know. But he's had plenty of chances, and he never has. Not here or in the car or even at his house."

Ephram still thought he could have happily lived his entire life without knowing that Roddy had been anywhere near a Blutbad's lair.

"It's fun to play with him, and he likes to play too, and he doesn't care who's better or if I don't know how to do something yet either which is way better than most of those jerks at school," Roddy continued. "And anyway, he's a vegetarian."

The Blutbad's dietary preferences—the fact that Roddy knew the Blutbad's dietary preferences—was even less reassuring somehow, and Ephram shot his son another glare just on principle. "And that whole thing when we were leaving?"

"Same as him being startled when you showed up. Some assholes jumped him last week, and he's a little bit on edge." Roddy scowled. "They didn't even give him a chance to defend himself."

Something that Roddy had more than a little experience with himself, but Ephram was caught on the first part of his statement. "What kind of lunatics would jump a Blutbad?"

"The kind who don't like the fact that he's friends with a Grimm. Which is nuts because if—when—he and the Grimm find out who it was they're going to have a pissed off Blutbad and a pissed off Grimm to deal with, but some people are stupid."

"He's friends with that Grimm detective too?" At least Ephram hoped that it was the Grimm detective that Roddy was referring to because if there was another Grimm wandering around Portland he was going to seriously look at relocating. Not that he was particularly fond of the Grimm detective himself, obviously, but he and Roddy still both had their heads and seemed to have been forgotten about which was really all that you could ask for after an encounter like last spring.

"Yeah."

"How does that even work?"

"I don't know. It just does." Another shrug. "He's different. I guess they both are."

Ephram took a deep breath and made himself count to ten. He didn't like this. Any of this. But his son was the most important thing in the world to him, so... "You're sure you're safe?" Whatever else was going on—Blutbad, Grimm, general insanity—that was what really mattered.

"Yeah. He's nice. Really." A pause. "At least to me. If there had been someone waiting outside, I wouldn't want to be between them and him, but that's their own fault."

Ephram sighed. "Just be careful." Please, please, be careful.