Chapter One: Beatrix
Just to let you know this is in my imaginary world where Nick has dumped Juliet for cheating on him and is considering what to do about Renard. I looove Nick and Juliet together but, for the sakes of the story line, I'm going to have to split them up for now.
I could see him, anger, red and hot, rolling off him in waves. He was with his partner, the cute black guy. Hank, I think I'd heard somebody call him. I might've liked this Hank, way back when. Then again, I could've liked this Grimm. What a mistake that would've been.
They were coming out of the victims house, and the Grimm was waving his hands up and down in frustration and his voice was loud as he yelled at Hank. Hank, patiently, tried to placate the Grimm but it was having none of it, being about as subtle as a nuclear bomb.
"I know he did it, Hank!" He was shouting. "Somebody has been leading me around by the nose, dropping little clues and hints, always leading me to the true killer. And this time these little clues and hints point to him."
I watched as Hank placed his gun back in its holster.
"Oh, yeah? And who has been dropping these clues and hints, hey Nick? What if they've been leading you around just to trip you up this time and leave you in a vulnerable position!"
I tilted my head to admire Hank from the darkness. I was up high on the roof of the house opposite, dressed all in black (of course) and watching them. The human was cleverer than I had previously assumed. But of course I had known humans could be clever, but somehow I had assumed because of his association with the Grimm, that this one would not be. I wouldn't make that mistake again.
However, just because he was clever didn't mean he was right. He had come up with many possible theory's that the Grimm hadn't thought up yet.
The Grimm paused, as if trying to think this through. He thought for a moment before shaking his head wearily.
"Oh, I dunno. I'm too tired. Too many nights sleeping on that damn couch when Juliet and I..."
Hank's tone and entire body posture softened as he leaned forward to slap his Grimm on the shoulder.
"Yeah, that break up must've been tough. You've been together for so long. It's probably taken it out of you. Go home, rest. We'll talk in the morning."
The Grimm looked up at his partner gratefully, and I was surprised to see the genuine thankfulness and companionship I saw in its face. I frowned. This Grimm made me curious. Unlike the others I had encountered, this one appeared to have a soul.
"Thanks Hank. I'll see you tomorrow." The Grimm thumped his friend on the back (The traditional macho male farewell) and turned for his car.
He had a nice car. I admired his car. I had no wish to hurt it.
I hit the pavement across the street from the police with a soft thud, quiet enough that they didn't hear it, nor did anybody notice me. I felt that gratifying sense of power I often did when this happened. I still was happy with the way I had so quickly adapted to my skills. To my skin. To me.
I trod my way carefully along the pavement, following the Grimms movements as he unlocked his car and slid into the drivers seat. I growled in annoyance. Stupid Americans and their driving on the wrong side. I could've easily slipped into the passenger seat from where I was on the pavement had I been at home. Now I had to go around the whole car and risk being seen.
I sighed before shrugging. Ah, well. I liked a challenge, if only a minor one.
I managed to manoeuvre my way around the sleek car, new since he had split from his girlfriend. Correction. I mentally corrected myself. Since he had split from his mate. I was trying out this new language and was finding that I wasn't well suited to it yet.
I ran my fingers tips lightly along the paint work before opening the door and slipping inside. He hadn't even turned on the engine, his head resting wearily on the head rest, his eyes closed. Big mistake, had I been there to kill him.
His eyes shot open when I opened the door and he whipped his head around to stare at me as I settled myself. He opened his mouth to say something, to scream or to shout or just to talk I couldn't be sure. But before he could, I place my index finger against his soft, plump lips, effectively shushing him.
"Shot gun?" I offered with a grin.
He wasn't taking the bait. He was spluttering and mumbled around my finger, but not kicking up a big enough fuss that it would've brought attention to me.
"Relax." I rolled my eyes and removed my finger. "I'm not here to kill you. I'm not vesen (Sorry, don't know how to spell that). I'm not human, either, actually. Basically put, I'm you."