Grimm Wolf - Julie Steimle (fantasy novels to read .txt) 📗

Herr Schwitzer said.

A huff of disgust came from Rick, him still peeking to his friends to make sure they were ok. It was protective. But then he always had been.

“Your kind cannot recognize a good thing when it stands right in front of you, and wiggles it tail,” Herr Schwitzer remarked dryly.

“Excuse me?” Rick pulled back from him. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

With a mocking snort, Herr Schwitzer replied, “Didn’t the French make you a good offer?”

Rolling his eyes, Rick refrained to answer.

“Your father had taken them up on it in his day,” Herr Schwitzer added as if the conclusion was logical.

With a tense peek to his friends, Rick answered, “My father called it the biggest mistake of his life.”

Jordan exchanged a look with Emory and Rhett. Mr. Deacon II was a scandal free man—or so they had thought. Perhaps this was a business error. The man was big in international trade. He had made deals that had failed almost as much as those which had succeeded.

“All the same, seven ‘mistakes’ are now roaming the earth,” Herr Schwitzer remarked. “—oh wait. I meant six.”

Rick shot him a dirty look, his jaw clenching.

“It’s a shame, really,” Herr Schwitzer continued, leading them past electrically lit tunnels to rooms which were interesting in what they contained as they were full of ancient weaponry, extra beds for some reason, and some areas which still had bars as if they were cages. They didn’t go into them or anything, but things were getting creepier and creepier. The conversation especially as it was entirely over their heads. “A union with the French would have helped your family.”

“I disagree,” Rick said with bite. 

“How so?” Herr Schwitzer asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“Do I need to make a list?” Rick replied briskly. He then waved his arm at their dank surroundings. “The Deacon family refuses to limit itself to rituals enacted inside ancient stone walls, identity politics, nepotism, and making unfair agreements with manipulative folk who don’t even keep said agreements after they had been signed.”

Jordan had no idea where that had come from. Then again, he really didn’t know what the Deacons did in their various business ventures. As far as he knew, the Deacons did business in nearly every continent on the globe. And what was that thing about rituals in ancient stone walls?

Herr Schwitzer gazed wanly on Rick. “Oh no? So you are saying you had not gotten involved in a certain ancient ritual, entangling with a female in a moon rite?”

Rick colored. It was as if he had been stripped bare right there and he was finding it out that second.

“That’s what the French claim,” Herr Schwitzer said, smirking.

Breathing hard, Rick attempted to regain his composure.

“Moon-bonded, they say,” the German added.

Rick shook his head. “I reject that. My life is my own.”

Laughing, Herr Schwitzer shook his head. “Oh, really? You reject that? Is that because you are a lone wolf?”

He continued to laugh, leading them to the end of the corridor where there were stairs—stairs going up. They ascended them together, Emory reading Rick’s horrified embarrassment as if some deep dark secret had been revealed about him. It wasn’t quite clear what. Rhett looked back down the corridor they had come from, glad they were emerging to the main level again. Rick’s earlier words from the restaurant had come back to him, asking ‘Haven’t you ever watched a horror movie?’ A deep dungeon was the last place he wanted to be. 

They came up into a main corridor near the front doors of the castle again, or another set at least as they seemed different from the pair they had entered through. Rick was looking to the door, still tense, but with hope that clearly translated to a desire that they might leave in one piece.

“Or do you reject that because of your mother?” Herr Schwitzer asked with a mocking sneer.

Rick’s eyes whipped angrily onto him.

“Or your grandmother,” Herr Schwitzer added, chuckling.

“Enough,” Rick said.

But Herr Schwitzer replied, “You know… In my studies of history—ours and theirs—I’ve learned a great deal about humanity and the divine. The Nazis were monsters, to be sure. Delusional in their egos. But they did have one thing right. They acknowledged that there had to be a superior race. Evolution proved it.”

Jordan shot Emory and then Rhett a look. Rhett pulled back from their German host, as a German talking about Nazis in a favorably light was not likely to look on a guy with dark skin in any kind way. They looked to Rick who was nearly seething. This was why the Deacons didn’t like this family. This was why Rick did not want to occupy the same space as them—and neither did they, now. Why couldn’t he have just said they were Nazi sympathizers? They would have run from this trip.

“Of course, the Arian race nonsense was incorrect,” Herr Schwitzer murmured, more to himself though for Rick’s benefit. “True superiority is in genetic advantage for evolution. How did that man, Darwin, put it? Survival of the fittest?” He had said the word man as if it were an insult, kind of the way a feminist did when ranting about the patriarchy. It was creepy. What did this German think he was, a god?

Rick stepped back near Emory, whispering as he dug into his pocket for something, “Run back to the car and get out of here.”

Herr Schwitzer smirked at him. “You associate with inferior creatures.”

“Now wait a minute…” Jordan stepped up toward Herr Schwitzer.

“Jordan, no!” Rick grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him back. He hissed in Jordan’s ear. “Bad idea. Just get out of here.”

“Why do you play with your food?” Herr Schwitzer asked.

Shivers ran up all three guys’ arms. Rhett and Emory backed away. Jordan froze. Rick stepped between them and Herr Schwitzer. “I told you to leave them alone. This is between you and me.”

Nodding, Herr Schwitzer paced in front of Rick. Several of his cohorts had gathered around them, hindering the four of them from going out the door.

“Yes it is,” Herr Schwitzer said. “And I have been dying of curiosity.”

The Germans outnumbered the four Americans by two now, counting Schwitzer. Jordan exchanged planning looks with his friends, as they realized that their host was a lunatic, quite possibly cultists. Rick had recognized the signs of course because he had escaped a cult when he was teenager. He knew the signs. Why had they been so arrogant as to not listen to him? Jordan mentally vowed to let Rick decide whatever he wanted to do on the rest of the journey once they got away.  

“I’ve heard you are the most powerful wolf in the world,” Schwitzer said, “Hands down.”

Rick shook his head. “Don’t base things on rumor—”

“I get this from a reliable source,” Schwitzer cut him off.

Jordan watched in horror, realizing that Schwitzer believed in the werewolf rumors about the Deacon family. He really was a psycho.

“The French say you defied them entirely.” Schwitzer started to pace in front of Rick, amused but savage. “You evaded them, and could only be hunted down by your own brothers.”

Jordan, Emory, and Rhett stared wide-eyed at Rick who barely snuck at look at them. They wondered if this was metaphorical in the sense of cult ‘brothers’ rather than literal brothers of the same blood.

“And you still got away,” Schwitzer said.

Shaking his head, Rick said in a low voice, “You’ve heard lies.”

“Lies?” Schwitzer raised his eyebrows. “Such as what influence you have a certain Canadian pack?”

“It’s an agreement, which you couldn’t possibly understand,” Rick shot back.

“Or the rumors of your battle scars, fighting demons and the SRA,” Schwitzer said.

Shaking his head more heavily, Rick replied, “I don’t want to fight you. I am not that kind of man.”

Schwitzer laughed, his eyes now glancing over Rick’s three friends. Jordan was just a large step away from him, standing guarded next to Rhett and Emory who were glancing at the exit and mentally formulating a successful way to knock through the Germans and run to the car. Of course their plan involved dragging Rick with them. There was no way they were going to leave the heir to Deacon Enterprises in the hands of a psychopathic lunatic.

“Not a fight,” Schwitzer said, grinning wickedly at Rick. He glanced at Emory and Rhett again before smirking at Jordan who was sweating. “A race.”

Rick shook his head, pulling back.

“It’s very simple,” Schwitzer said, pacing again, hands behind his back and head high. “We let them loose,” he gestured to Jordan, Rhett, and Emory, “And we make chase….”

Jordan paled, looking once to Rick who stood horrified. Emory and Rhett backed toward the door. Unfortunately, two thugs stopped them from getting any further, blocking them.

“Whoever makes the first kill, wins,” Schwitzer said.

“You’re disgusting!” Rick protested, appearing likely to vomit.

Schwitzer gazed dryly on him. “Oh, come on. Haven’t you ever tasted human blood?”

“No!” Rick snapped, appalled at the very suggestion. His face was ashen. His eyes begged his friends to run to the car that very second. “I’m not a cannibal!”

Jordan nodded, backing away.

“But is it cannibalism, though?” Schwitzer asked mildly.

“Yes!” Rick shouted.

Schwitzer laughed. “I suppose it would be for you. Your mother was a human.”

That’s when Jordan, Emory, and Rhett realized this man thought he himself was a werewolf. Rick looked to them, his eyes begging for forgiveness. He mouthed, “I’m so sorry.”

He turned around and faced the German lunatic. “Just let them go. This argument is between you and me.”

“I’ll let them go,” Schwitzer said, “And we will make chase.”

“Not happening,” Rick bit out.

“Because you are a weakling,” Schwitzer replied, “A mewling pup.”

“Get out now!” Rick called to his friends.

Rhett kneed one German in the groin, punching him in the throat next. Emory clocked one right across the jaw. Jordan had attempted to swipe the nearest guy off his feet with a self-defense move he knew, but the creep grabbed him by the neck and held him into a lock. Rick sprang to free him, but the man threatened to break Jordan’s neck if he got closer.

“Let him go!” Rick shouted, his eyes wide on them.

Schwitzer walked up to his man and Jordan. “You need to get your priorities straight. And I need to help you.”

Out whipped a knife. And just as quickly it slashed red across Jordan’s throat.

Emory and Rhett froze as blood blossomed under their buddy’s chin.

“NO!  JORDAN!” Rick sprang on Schwitzer, ripping the knife out from his hand and elbowing the fiend out of the way. But it was too late.

The German holding Jordan dropped him like a sack as Jordan gasped for air, clutching his throat.

Blood

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

Rick knocked away Schwitzer and that thug from Jordan, struggling to lift him off the ground. He was covered in Jordan’s blood, grabbing whatever he could to staunch the bleeding. Red was everywhere. The other German thugs immediately ran to their fallen boss, shouting something in German at him. “Bist du verletzt?”

Schwitzer pushed off the ground, cursing while wiping his lip where Rick had nicked him with the knife. There was another thin scratch on his chin and