Grimm Wolf, Julie Steimle [always you kirsty moseley .txt] 📗

I really have to go. This really is important.”

He then went to the back of the car and opened the trunk. The guy was back to business.

Resigned to losing him, they all heaved out their backpacks—all except Rick’s, of course. He briskly shut the trunk once they had all their things, and he led the way to the hotel as if he were going to check them in to make sure they did not follow him on to his next stop. Jordan noticed Rick did things like that on occasion—set things up so they could not follow him somewhere. It was like on their big ski trip three years ago at the Deacon family’s ski resort. Rick had come early without telling them, and he had avoided them when they had come early to surprise him. They had planned to drag him out for night skiing. It had been a full moon then too, perfect for night skiing. But he avoided them, claiming he had studying to do and ‘could not play’. And to top it off, the very morning his other friends from his old private school were going to arrive, he had twisted his ankle while slipping on ice—and he ended up not going skiing with them at all.

Once they found the hotel check in, Rick nudged Rhett forward to do all the talking. Rick barely knew two words in German. His second language was a pathetic level of high school French and his third was decent college Mandarin—neither useful here. As Rhett spoke with the attendants to confirm their reservations, the other three looked around the dining room where several patrons were enjoying lunch.

 Rick said to Jordan and Emory in a lower voice, “I know you guys want to get in some night hiking, but I don’t think this is the place to do it. We can do night hiking down in Senheim or near it after I get back.”

“It won’t be the full moon then though,” Jordan said, annoyed that Rick was still being this way.

“It will be a waning gibbous, which is good enough,” Rick explained.

Jordan always found weird how familiar Rick was with astronomy terms. He knew stuff like that.

Rick then glanced around the dining hall, stifling a sneeze. “Besides, I don’t think it is a good idea if I linger here in Cochem anyway. I never told you this, but my grandfather sort of traveled this way once, and he kind of offended somebody.”

Both Jordan and Emory stared. “What?”

This was news. The Deacons were careful about not offending people. They were exceptionally good at foreign relations in business. They had important connections around the globe.

“In fact, if I were you,” Rick whispered to them, “I would not mention my name here at all. None of it—for your own safety.”

“Why?” Rhett asked, looking back to Rick.

Coloring a little to the point that his face nearly matched his rust colored hair, Rick said, “It is a really long story, but the short of it is that there is one local family my family avoids. Bad blood. Grandpa didn’t think they were very scrupulous. And, to be honest, Dad has avoided them. And he has warned me to stay away from here.”

“Is that why you are leaving?” Jordan asked, mouth opening with astonishment. This felt real. It was more like Rick.

Shrugging, Rick nodded. “I don’t want to bring trouble on you guys.”

“Ok,” Emory murmured. “No mention the D—”

Rick slapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t even say the name.”

Emory nodded, realizing Rick truly meant it.

“Ok,” Rhett said, watching.

Rick then turned to go. He waved. “See you in three days.”

Jordan and the others waved back in a slight daze, watching him with subdued amazement.

“So… his grandfather had offended some German dude, and that’s why Rick rented the car and dropped us off rather than having us all hike in,” Rhett murmured. “I’m glad he fessed up.”

Jordan’s eyes followed the rent-a-car as Rick pulled out and headed back to the highway along the river. “Funny thing, though,” he said in a low voice. “The only people I know the D—”

Emory shot him a sharp look.

“—they have ever offended are like the mafia, who for some reason can’t quite get to him.”

“The mafia?” Rhett stared. He had heard stories, but he had not quite believed them. Even now he thought it was crazy. The mafia always seemed like a cartoon super villain team rather than real.

“Crime families,” Emory interjected. “Maybe not mafia with a capital M, but certainly groups like them.”

Jordan shrugged. “Though there are those nuts who think the D—”

“Hey!” Emory laughed at him, as Jordan kept letting the name slip despite Rick’s warning.

“—his father and him are werewolves,” Jordan amended with a not- caring snort.

Some of the locals glanced over, comprehending a little of their conversation. A tourist peered over also. Seeing the eyes, they heaved their backpacks up the stairs toward their room, still talking.

“Yeah, but those crazy folk don’t count,” Rhett said in a lower voice.

“Somebody counts them.”

Led to their sleeping arrangements, each was shown to a room with soft comfortable-looking beds. And upon seeing them, each guy silently thanked Rick for his foresight. Though they did not mind the youth hostels and small camping sites they had been using, secretly every one of them was dying for a night of complete rest in total comfort.

*

Rick felt comfortable leaving his friends in Cochem, especially in leaving them quickly. He had kept it on the down low among most of his associates that he was in Germany for the summer so no rumor could spread. No one in the public gossip news knew about it at least. Only his good friends in the Holy Seven and Tom Brown knew he had gone on this summer backpacking trip, besides his father of course. He told the Seven as a form of insurance, just in case things. And he told Tom because Tom would have found out sooner or later, and Tom would have sought some reason to crash the trip just to bug him if he felt he was being purposely left out.

Thing was, what Rhett said about Rick acting like an old married man because his best friend had just gotten hitched wasn’t too far off. Rick was feeling his carefree childhood slip away as adult things were now taking over everything—starting with the first of his friends getting married. Though none of his other friends were engaged yet, they were sure to follow… Eve McAllister most likely being next with her steady boyfriend Hanz. And he was jealous.

But Rick was honestly happy for Andrew. And relieved. Andrew had finally married his high school sweetheart—and Jessica (his sweet, amazing wife whom Rick would have wanted as a girlfriend had is best friend blown it) had moved from New York City to live with Andrew, taking up a special detective position in the town’s police department. She had been an NYPD cop before.

The wedding had also been beautiful—though out-of-the-world weird in comparison to what most other people would have. Everyone they had cared about had come to the small wedding in Middleton Village, from Matthew Calamori and Joshua Johnson to Tom Brown and Randon Spade. But that wasn’t the weird part. Jessica’s dad, ‘The Marvelous Mason’, had gotten a furlough from prison for the day. And it was mind-bendingly funny seeing armed guards stand with the former magician and con man as he gave his daughter away to the pastor’s grandson—with prison-cuffs on his ankles to keep him from running as he was a sleight-of-hand artist skilled at evading the law and picking locks. Rick’s dad had arranged it as a wedding present to Jessica. With that image opposite the upright Cartwright family, it had painted such a weird picture in Rick’s head.

Then of course was the rest of wedding party. Rick stood as Andrew’s best man, of course. And next to them were the others of the Holy Seven, Daniel Smith, James Peterson, Edward White, Peter McCabe, Semour Dawson, and Michael Toms. All of them together after such a long time, standing like noble knights—including Peter who marched to a different everything. And the bridesmaids. They were a sight to behold. Eve McAllister stood alongside Selena Davenport and Silvia Lewis—each extraordinary women who to the naked, untrained eye, looked like a Snow-White-complected surfer chick, a Mediterranean debutante, and a quirky New York hairstylist. The only one of Jessica’s friends who was missing was Audry Bruchenhaus—Jessica’s vegan friend and animal rights activist who was also an acquaintance of Rick’s. Rick was honestly disappointed that she couldn’t come. Audry was currently on her long-scheduled Africa trip, probably rescuing endangered rhinos or taming cheetahs. She did send a soymilk maker as a wedding gift, though.

During the ceremony and the exchanging of the vows, Rick’s mind had wandered… admittedly to Audry. He had imagined the normal, sane, entirely vegan Audry standing alongside the other gals and looking across at the knights of the Holy Seven, and had nearly laughed out loud. His friends shot him a look while the pastor was orating about the importance of treating marriage not as a social construct, but as a sacred union, wondering what he thought was so funny. But as things continued on, Rick thought that perhaps it was good that Audry didn’t come. She would have been the only one in the wedding party who was entirely unaware that supernatural beings existed in the world. And to be honest, Rick didn’t want her to step into that nasty, dangerous universe. Let her deal with just animals with fangs and horns. She could handle those. Besides, the woman was naturally intuitive. And while being among so many of his friends, she would have eventually picked up that something wasn’t quite normal about any of them. Especially himself.

It would have remained a passing thought, if Silvia (who was also Audry’s friend, long story) had not sauntered up to him and said, “You know, if you miss her that badly, why don’t you hop on a plane and go to Africa to get her.”

It had left him speechless for a full minute. And Silvia cackled at his expense, sauntering away almost, but lingering to see what affect it had on him. She thought she was being funny. He wondered if she knew how much that really hurt. First, because he had no idea he was that transparent. He hadn’t said a word about Audry the entire time. And secondly, it hurt because Audry was, for the most part, exactly what he was looking for a in a woman—minus her fanatic veganism—and he knew he couldn’t have her. He had finally managed to say, however, “I don’t want to cause Audry trouble. We need to leave her alone.”

Which was what he was doing for his friends now. Sometimes people simply needed to be left alone—left out of the supernatural craziness that was his life. Unfortunately back then at the wedding, Silvia merely rolled her eyes at him as if to say it was too late for Audry. She was already entangled with Silvia’s family problems and had been helping her leave her witch coven, and of course Audry was a good friend to Jessica who was a lead member of the Holy Seven.

But he refused to believe it was too late for Audry. Because once the supernatural realm got a hold of you, it never left you alone.

Rick Deacon drove and drove along the river until he was sure he had put fair amount of distance between him and Cochem—the further the better. When the sun was getting low enough in the sky, Rick found a small village where he could park the car—somewhere inconspicuous, somewhere where people would leave it and him alone.

After setting the emergency brake, Rick got out, locked all the doors and headed straight into the woods, hiking into the darkest part.

He sniffed the air.

Odors of the near town were faint. He mostly smelled tree bark, decomposing leaves, soil, and… badgers. Rick