Chapter 2: Revelations
After leaving the restaurant, Nick immediately drove to Rosalee's spice shop to verify the antidote Adalind had given him. The shop, a quaint and aromatic haven, was filled with shelves of jars containing various herbs, powders, and potions. The comforting scent of spices filled the air as Nick pushed open the door, the bell above tinkling softly.
Rosalee, a Fuchsbau—a fox-like Wesen—looked up from behind the counter where she was carefully measuring out ingredients. Her sharp, intelligent eyes lit up with a warm smile as she saw Nick. "Nick! What brings you here so late?"
Nick approached the counter, his demeanour more solemn than usual. In his hand, he held the small vial Adalind had given him, its contents mysterious yet potentially crucial. "Rosalee, I need your help. Can you check this for me?" he asked, his tone conveying the urgency of his request.
Taking the vial delicately from Nick's hand, Rosalee examined it with a keen eye. "Sure, let me take a look," she responded, her tone professional as she motioned for him to follow her to an elaborate workstation in the back of the shop. This area was her domain, where potions were crafted, and the essence of Wesen herbology was unravelled. "Do you know what's in it?" she asked.
Nick held her gaze and spoke "it's supposed to be something to break a love spell called La mort pour l'amour"
Rosalee's eyebrows shot up in shock and alarm. "What?! Why do you have this, and where did you get it?" Her voice wavered slightly, a mix of disbelief and concern evident in her tone.
Nick sighed, the weight of the entire situation pressing down upon him. "Adalind Schade gave it to me," he confessed, watching Rosalee closely for her reaction. "She claims it's to counteract what she did to Hank."
Rosalee's eyes widened, her surprise evident. "From a Hexenbiest?!" she mused, her mind clearly turning over the many implications. " Why would she give this to you?"
Nick recounted the conversation in the restroom, his voice low but clear, ensuring Rosalee understood every nuance of the exchange. As he explained, Rosalee's expression grew increasingly concerned.
"And you trust what she told you?" Rosalee queried, her tone cautious yet filled with a need to support her friend.
Nick exhaled deeply. "We don't really have much of a choice, Rosalee. We knew something was off with Hank; we just didn't know what. If this antidote is real, it could be our best shot at helping him." He looked at her earnestly, his decision clear in his eyes.
Rosalee, her scepticism clear as she eyed the vial Nick handed her, spoke cautiously. "Alright, Nick, let me see if what she gave you is real."
As Rosalee placed the vial aside, she then pulled out an ancient-looking bowl and began mixing various agents for a chemical test. Nick watched her work, his mind racing with the implications of what Adalind had told him. The shop was a haven not just of spices and herbs but of trust and ancient knowledge, a sharp contrast to the deceit and manipulation he often faced outside its walls.
As Rosalee continued her meticulous work, mixing reagents and studying reactions, the calm and methodical way she approached her task was a reminder of how much Nick depended on her. Her presence brought a sense of stability and reassurance, qualities that were invaluable in the often chaotic life of a Grimm. Watching her now, Nick felt a wave of gratitude for her unwavering support and for the serendipitous circumstances that had brought them together. In this small shop filled with the scent of herbs and the quiet hum of focused activity, Nick felt anchored, a rare feeling in the whirlwind of his duties as a Grimm.
As Rosalee worked on verifying the antidote, Nick found his thoughts drifting back to their first meeting. Rosalee had taken over the spice shop after the untimely and tragic murder of her brother. Nick, having been involved in solving her brother's murder, remembered how their paths had crossed during that tumultuous time. Rosalee, initially a stranger wrapped in grief and mystery, had quickly become an indispensable ally.
Her shop was more than just a place of business; it was a trove of Wesen knowledge. Each jar and bottle held ingredients both common and rare, and Rosalee knew the properties and dangers of each. As Nick watched her work, he appreciated anew how her detailed knowledge of Wesen cultures and her skill with potions had filled gaps that even Monroe, with all his experience, could not. Monroe, a Blutbad who had also become one of Nick's closest confidants, had his own vast knowledge of the Wesen world, but it was Rosalee's unique expertise that often provided the key insights they needed to solve some of their most challenging cases.
Nick's relationship with Rosalee had grown from one of mutual assistance to deep trust. He respected her not only for her intelligence and expertise but also for her courage and resilience. Despite the dangers she faced in a world where her kind was often prey, she had never hesitated to stand alongside him, even when it meant putting herself at risk. Together with Monroe, they had formed a team that Nick relied on not just for their skills but for their loyalty and friendship.
Rosalee finally broke the silence that had settled between them. "This is really the antidote Nick," she confirmed, her voice tinged with both astonishment and intrigue. She looked back at Nick, her eyes searching. "What else did she tell you?"
Nick, feeling a wave of relief wash over him, replied, "She said that it needs to be administered using something called a 'Nez-soufflet'. She also mentioned that for now, Hank is not in immediate danger because certain steps need to happen before it turns deadly."
Rosalee nodded, her expression serious as she absorbed the information. "From what I know about this specific Zaubertrank, the 'deceived'—which in this case is Hank—would fall into a coma and die within 24 hours after... um, intimacy with the deceiver, which I assume is Adalind."
Rosalee, trying to maintain her composure, replied, "If Adalind gave you the antidote and assured you that Hank is not in any immediate danger, we can assume she doesn't plan on following through with the final steps."
Rosalee then explained, "A Nez-soufflet is a form of nasal spray. We'll need to find a way to administer it to Hank discreetly." She paused, her expression growing more serious. "There's another way to break the spell as well…"
Nick watched her with anticipation, his concern evident. Rosalee took a deep breath and continued with a grave look, "By killing the spell caster."
Nick was tempted by the simplicity of the latter solution, but he shook his head, remembering Adalind's confession. "From what Adalind told me, there's someone else behind this. If we ever want to find out who, we'll need to hear her out."
Rosalee nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. "Alright, so how do we get Hank to use the Nez-soufflet without him realising?"
Nick's face lit up with an idea. "I'll invite Hank out for drinks. I'll make sure he gets stupidly drunk, and when he's blackout drunk, I'll administer the spray. Hopefully, he won't remember what happened and won't question me about it."
Rosalee smiled slightly, impressed by Nick's quick thinking. "It's risky, but it might just work. We'll need to prepare the Nez-soufflet and have it ready for when you take him out."
Their conversation solidified the plan in Nick's mind. He thanked Rosalee for her help and expertise, the trust between them as palpable. With the antidote verified, Nick left the shop feeling a cautious hope, ready to face the next challenge in the ever-complicated dance of his life as a Grimm.
Nick sat at his desk, the morning light filtering through the blinds, casting stripes of shadow and light across his cluttered workspace. He was nursing a mild headache from the previous night, but his mind was focused on one thing: the success of his plan. Two takeaway coffee cups sat in front of him, one for himself and one for Hank, who was expected to arrive any minute.
The events of the night before played back in his mind. Convincing Hank to go out for drinks hadn't been as difficult as he feared. His partner had been in a desolate mood, wanting to see Adalind again. Adalind's convenient excuse about being busy had left Hank more than willing to drown his sorrows in alcohol. Nick hadn't needed to push too hard to get Hank to the point of blackout drunk.
As the night progressed, Hank's mood had shifted from desolate to despondent, the alcohol amplifying his feelings of rejection. It had been almost too easy to keep the drinks coming, ensuring Hank reached the level of intoxication needed for Nick's plan. Carrying Hank back to his apartment had been a challenge, but Nick managed it, propping him up and half-carrying, half-dragging him inside.
The memory of administering the antidote was still fresh in his mind. He had laid Hank down on his bed, gently tilting his head back to get the Nez-soufflet into his nostrils. Hank had stirred slightly, muttering incoherently, but had remained mostly unresponsive. Nick's heart had pounded as he squeezed the spray, hoping against hope that his partner wouldn't remember this part of the night.
Now, sitting at his desk, Nick took a sip of his coffee, trying to calm his nerves. He looked up as Hank walked in, looking worse for wear but otherwise functional.
"Morning," Nick greeted, sliding the second coffee cup towards him. "Figured you might need this."
Hank grunted in response, taking the coffee and collapsing into the chair beside Nick. "Thanks. Last night was… something else. I can barely remember how I got home."
Nick forced a casual smile. "You were pretty out of it. I had to carry you in. Hope you're not too mad about that."
Hank shook his head, taking a long sip of his coffee. "Nah, just embarrassed. Thanks for looking out for me, man."
Nick nodded, relief washing over him. "Anytime. Just try to take it easy today. We've got a lot to get through."
Nick watched his partner closely, noting every sip, every subtle change in expression. Over the next several days, he kept a vigilant eye on Hank, looking for any sign that the antidote was taking effect. Gradually, the obsessive edge that had sharpened Hank's interactions began to dull. The intense, almost desperate look that had clouded his eyes when he spoke of Adalind began to clear, replaced by his usual thoughtful gaze.
A few days later, after they had wrapped up a routine case, they walked towards their car, a comfortable silence between them. Breaking the silence, Nick decided it was time to address the elephant in the room. He began in a nonchalant tone, his eyes on the parking lot ahead, "How are things with Adalind?"
Hank paused mid-step, his expression turning introspective. "You know, it's strange," he said slowly, his voice tinged with confusion. "A few days ago, I couldn't stop thinking about her. It was like she was all I could see, all I could think about. But now…" He shook his head, as if to clear the remnants of a spell. "Now, it's like those feelings have just... died."
Nick leaned against their car, giving Hank his full attention. "What do you mean?" he probed gently, needing to understand just how complete the reversal was.
Hank sighed, the sound heavy with bewilderment. "I don't know, man. It felt like I was a drowning man and she was oxygen, like I would do anything just to see her and be with her. But suddenly, as fast and hard as those feelings came, they died down just as quick. It's like waking up from a dream and wondering what the hell you were dreaming about."
Nick nodded, a mix of relief and validation settling within him. Adalind's claims about the antidote had proven true; the unnatural obsession induced by the potion had indeed been neutralised. "Do you feel okay otherwise?" he asked, his tone careful, knowing the importance of confirming no residual effects lingered.
"Yeah, I feel fine," Hank replied, though his brow furrowed slightly, a clear sign of his lingering confusion. "Just confused about why I felt that way in the first place."
Nick's understanding deepened, and he offered a supportive smile. "These things happen, Hank. But I'm here if you need to talk about it, okay?"
Hank nodded, appreciating the gesture, the normalcy of their partnership a grounding force amid the bizarre events that had overtaken his life. As they climbed into the car and headed back to the precinct, Nick felt a cautious optimism. The antidote had worked, and for now, at least one crisis had been averted. However, the road ahead remained fraught with uncertainties, each step requiring careful navigation.
Back at his house later that night, Nick leaned against the kitchen counter, deep in thought. The events of the previous days replayed in his mind, each moment filled with tension and uncertainty. Following Adalind Schade to the bathroom had been a gamble, one that could have gone horribly wrong. Yet, her confession had caught him off guard. Despite his initial scepticism, there had been a determined look in her eyes that convinced him she was taking a significant risk by telling him the truth.
Nick poured himself a glass of water, staring at the liquid as if it held the answers he sought. He couldn't shake the image of Adalind's face, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and resolve. She had been vulnerable. It made him question everything he thought he knew about her.
As he took a sip, his mind drifted back to the moment in the spice shop. Rosalee had been meticulous in her analysis, her expertise providing the confirmation he needed.
He couldn't help but think back to when his life had irrevocably changed—the day he first saw Adalind woge. It was a seemingly ordinary day, one that should have been filled with joy and anticipation. He had just bought an engagement ring for Juliette, convinced that he was ready to take the next steps with his longtime girlfriend. The ring was nestled in his pocket, a symbol of his commitment and love, and he couldn't wait to see the look on Juliette's face when he proposed.
As he exited the jewellery store, the world felt bright and full of possibilities. The sun was shining, and there was a lightness in his step. He noticed a woman across the street walking out of a coffee shop. Her blonde hair caught the sunlight, creating a halo-like effect around her. She was strikingly beautiful, and he found himself momentarily captivated.
When she noticed him staring, she smiled, a warm and inviting gesture that made him want to smile back. But then, in an instant, everything changed. Her beautiful face morphed into that of a dried, decaying corpse. Her eyes sunk into dark hollows, her skin shrivelled and grey. It was a vision straight out of a nightmare.
Nick was horrified, and his heart pounded in his chest, shock evident on his face. The expression of horror was mirrored by Adalind, who quickly returned to her beautiful appearance, her own fear and confusion palpable. He kept staring at the blonde to see if the image would appear again. She sped up her walking eager to get away from his gaze.
He couldn't shake the image from his mind. It haunted him, making him question his sanity. Was he seeing things? Was he losing his mind? These questions plagued him, gnawing at his peace of mind. He tried to brush it off, to convince himself it was a trick of the light or his imagination playing tricks on him, but the memory refused to fade.
It wasn't until his Aunt Marie came to town that things began to make sense. She revealed the truth about his heritage, about the world of Wesen and Grimms. She explained that what he saw was real, that there were creatures living among them, hidden in plain sight.
Marie's arrival brought explanations that upended his entire understanding of the world. She came with her trailer, a relic from a past filled with battles and secrets, packed with weapons and books that detailed his ancestry. It was in that old, creaky trailer that Marie began to unravel the truth of what he was—a Grimm. A guardian of sorts, tasked with protecting humanity from Wesen, creatures of folklore and myth that walked hidden among ordinary people. The air in the trailer was thick with the scent of old paper and metal, a testament to the countless battles fought by their ancestors.
Nick remembered his Aunt Marie's words echoing in his head: "The misfortune of our family is already passing to you." Her eyes were filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination as she spoke, her voice firm but tinged with the weight of a lifetime of struggle. She tried to explain that being a Grimm came with inevitable danger, urging him to let go of Juliette to keep her safe.
As they talked outside the trailer, a sudden, violent attack shattered the relative calm. A troll-like creature emerged from the shadows, wielding a scythe. its roar echoing through the night. Nick fought back, his instincts taking over as he struggled to protect his aunt. The fight was brutal, the creature's strength overwhelming. Despite their best efforts, Marie was seriously injured. Blood stained the ground as Nick rushed to her side, his heart pounding with fear and adrenaline.
Marie, barely conscious, clutched a necklace with a key dangling from it. Her grip was tight, her knuckles white with effort. She urgently told him, "Never lose this. Guard it with your life. They'll be looking for it." Her voice was weak but resolute, each word heavy with significance.
In that moment, Marie also revealed a devastating truth: his parents had not died in a car accident as he'd been told, but had been murdered. The weight of this revelation hit Nick like a punch to the gut, leaving him reeling. Before she could say more, Marie passed out, her strength finally giving way to her injuries.
Nick barely had time to process what had happened as he called for an ambulance, his hands trembling. Marie was rushed to the hospital, where doctors worked frantically to stabilise her. In the sterile, cold environment of the hospital, Nick sat by her side, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. Marie tried to explain more whenever she briefly regained consciousness, but their time was painfully short.
As Nick sat beside her bed, the doctor pulled him aside. "She needs rest," the doctor said, his tone firm but sympathetic. "She's still unstable. Any stress could make her condition worse."
Reluctantly, Nick left her side, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. The corridors of the hospital seemed empty and cold, a stark contrast to the chaotic world he had just been thrust into. He knew he needed to learn quickly, to understand the threats that surrounded him and those he loved.
Nick recalled the chaotic and unexpected events that had marked his first meeting with Monroe. With Aunt Marie still in the hospital, he had poured his energy into a kidnapping case, the kind of case that seemed straightforward until things took a bizarre turn. Monroe had initially seemed like a likely suspect. Nick's instincts had pointed him toward Monroe when he witnessed him woge into a wolf-like creature, an image that had sent chills down his spine during his canvass of the area where the victim disappeared.
The suspicion had led to a tense police search of Monroe's home, but the result was anticlimactic. Monroe's place was clean, devoid of any incriminating evidence, and his criminal record was spotless. Despite the lack of concrete evidence, Nick's gut feeling told him something was off, and his scepticism remained.
Determined to uncover the truth, Nick turned to the resources in Marie's trailer. Among the dusty tomes and ancient weapons, he found descriptions of Wesen—creatures like Monroe. The knowledge illuminated a dark corner of his understanding, offering insight into the world he had only just begun to navigate. Armed with this new information, Nick returned to Monroe's house, driven by a sense of urgency and unresolved questions.
His investigation turned into an unexpected confrontation when Monroe caught him snooping around. The initial surprise led to a scuffle, a physical and metaphorical clash between the two. Monroe tackled him, and the struggle ended with both men grappling on the floor. It was during this chaotic moment that Monroe's true nature as a Blutbad came to light. To Nick's astonishment, Monroe claimed to be reformed—a vegetarian who had renounced violence.
As Monroe spoke, he explained the deep-seated fear that Wesen had of Grimms, who were perceived as relentless, merciless hunters. The conversation offered a glimpse into Monroe's life and the prejudices that shaped his interactions with Grimms. Nick was taken aback by Monroe's sincerity, and the revelation sparked a reluctant shift in his perspective.
Despite his lingering reservations, Nick recognized that Monroe's unique abilities could be crucial in solving the case. Monroe's heightened sense of smell proved invaluable when it came to tracking down the real kidnapper—a postman who, like Monroe, was a Blutbad but had given in to his wilder Wesen side, hunting unwitting prey. Monroe agreed to help with the tracking but was adamant about not getting further involved, unwilling to compromise his new life of peace.
Nick, who worked with his partner Hank, managed to rescue the kidnapped girl. The successful operation, bolstered by Monroe's assistance, marked a turning point in Nick's perception. It was clear that Monroe, despite his unusual nature and past, was a valuable ally.
As Nick returned to the hospital, sat in the dimly lit room, his eyes fixed on Marie's still form. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound breaking the heavy silence. Marie had slipped into a coma shortly after their rushed conversation about his Grimm heritage, the dangers that came with it, and the key she had entrusted to him. The doctors had no definitive answers, only shared uncertain glances and spoke in hushed tones about her condition. Despite their pessimism, Nick held onto a thread of hope that she would wake up and tell him more about the responsibilities that now lay heavily on his shoulders.
His vigil was interrupted by the quiet click of the door. A blonde woman entered, wearing a doctor's coat—too familiar, too coincidental. It was Adalind, the same woman from the jewellery store encounter. Her presence in the hospital, in this room, wasn't an accident. Nick's grip tightened on the chair as he watched her fill a syringe with a clear liquid, her movements professional yet charged with a tension he could almost feel. As she approached Marie, every instinct screamed at him to act.
He stood abruptly, reaching for her wrist just as she was about to inject Marie. The struggle that ensued was brief but intense; Adalind was surprisingly strong, her desperation clear in her eyes. In the chaos, the needle punctured his skin, and a sharp pain shot through his arm. The room spun as the neurotoxin took effect, and he crumpled to the floor, his last conscious thought on the danger Marie still faced.
When he awoke, the reality of his situation settled in with the doctor's words—mere inches away from a potentially lethal dose. The severity of his role as a Grimm had never been clearer, nor the dangers it posed to those he cared about. Adalind's actions spoke of deep-seated schemes and desperation, a reminder of the enemies his family had made over generations.
As he sat there, by Marie's bedside, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, the vulnerability of his situation became painfully clear. His aunt, who had introduced him to the hidden realities of his lineage, lay vulnerable because of the very legacy she had come to reveal. The enemies of the Grimms were not just shadows from old stories; they were real, active, and now dangerously close.
The need for extra security became painfully clear, and he found himself dialling Monroe's number, seeking assistance from the one Wesen he felt he could somewhat trust. Monroe, though reluctant at first due to the inherent dangers of protecting a Grimm—even one incapacitated—had agreed to watch over Marie.
Nick recalls the vivid memory from the phone call from Monroe, his voice tense and urgent over the line. "Nick, there's been an attempt on Marie," Monroe reported, his words quick and heavy with concern. "I managed to drive them off, but I'm not sure if I got all of them. I can't stay here."
Nick's heart raced as he processed Monroe's words. Without a second thought, he made his way back to the hospital, fear and determination driving him forward. As he entered Marie's room, a chilling scene unfolded. A man dressed as a priest stood over her, a scalpel in hand. In a desperate struggle, Marie, even in her weakened state, fought back fiercely. With a surprising burst of strength, she turned the assailant's weapon against him, forcing him to stab himself. Nick burst into the room just as the man collapsed, his disguise no longer concealing his deadly intentions.
Marie's eyes met Nick's, filled with a mix of relief and sadness. She reached out, her hand gripping his as she took her last breaths. "Keep them safe," she whispered, her voice fading. Tears streamed down Nick's face as she died in his arms, her final words echoing in his mind.
Since Marie's death, Nick Burkhardt's life had been a relentless series of confrontations with the hidden world of Wesen. Each encounter, whether shrouded in the shadows of the night or under the stark light of day, served as a harsh lesson in the realities of his heritage. As a Grimm, his every interaction with the Wesen community not only honed his abilities but also deepened his understanding of the delicate balance he needed to maintain as both a detective and a warrior.
In the beginning, his responses were tentative, often reactive, but as time passed, Nick's skills sharpened. The physical confrontations, though brutal, became less about survival and more about strategy. He learned to read the subtle tells of his opponents, to anticipate their moves before they struck, turning their own instincts against them. With each victory, his confidence grew, but so did the realisation of the target his back bore.
The dual nature of his role often placed him in moral quandaries. As a cop, he was sworn to uphold the law, to protect and serve. As a Grimm, he was thrust into a world where justice often required a more primal form of resolution. This duality was never clearer than in the heat of battle, where his decisions could mean the difference between life and death—not just for him but for those caught in the crossfire.
His enhanced abilities were not just physical. His senses were keener, his reflexes quicker, and his body adapted to the rigours of combat with a supernatural resilience that few humans possessed. Each fight, each narrow escape, didn't just make him stronger—they made him deadlier to those who dared to target him.
But with this increase in power came a deepening isolation. The world he guarded was one he could share with few. His partner Hank remained oblivious to the true nature of their cases, and Juliette, the woman he loved, was a constant reminder of the normal life he was ever more distant from. The burden of his responsibilities, the secrets he kept, they all built a wall between him and the world he used to know.
Now, reflecting on the night at the restaurant, Nick reconsidered Adalind's confession. It had come at a high personal risk, exposing her to his potential wrath—a wrath justified, given her attempt on his aunt's life. Yet, during the Mellifer case, amidst the chaos of dealing with a vengeful Wesen queen, he'd seen another side to Adalind. Beneath her calculated exterior lay a vulnerability he hadn't expected. She had been scared, truly scared, and her actions, while driven by someone else, also stemmed from a fight for survival within a world that devoured its weak.
Feeling a weight of responsibility to understand all facets of the intricate web he was now part of, Nick decided to seek guidance from his newfound friends and confidants in the Wesen world. Monroe and Rosalee had been his anchors, their advice always tempered with wisdom and caution. They, too, expressed concerns about Adalind—her kind was known for cunning and deceit. Yet, they supported his decision to hear her out, to gather all pieces of the puzzle before making any judgments.
Monroe and Rosalee's own pasts were marked by violence and struggle against their wilder Wesen natures, a journey they had managed to overcome to reach a place of balance and relative peace. Their experiences made them uniquely understand the complexities and challenges of Wesen life, reinforcing the notion that everyone deserves a chance to prove their intentions, regardless of their origins. This perspective was invaluable to Nick as he navigated his role as a Grimm surrounded by both foes and potential allies.
Determined, Nick dialled Adalind's number, the phone heavy in his hand. Her voice, when she answered, was cautious but clear. "Adalind, meet me at the spice shop," he said, the words firm. "We need to talk—about everything."
Hanging up, Nick felt the familiar surge of a detective's resolve mixed with the uncertainty of a Grimm's burden. Trusting Adalind was not without risks, but it was a calculated one that he was willing to take to peel back the layers of deceit shrouding his new reality. He steeled himself against the possible outcomes. Whatever Adalind would reveal, he was ready to face it, armed with knowledge and an ever-deepening understanding of the shadows within which he now operated.