Free Grimm - The Icy Touch by John Shirley Page A

feel them nearby, a kind of subtle electric tension in his jaw and forehead. He could feel his Grimm side coming alert: colors and shapes suddenly seemed more vivid, and smells more potent.
    Nick looked at Hank. Hank nodded and drew his 9 mm automatic.
    They crept forward, quickly reaching another bend in the tunnel. Nick peeked around the corner.
    Three Wesen stood in a small chamber, little more than a widening of the corridor, around a half-size fiberglass pallet stacked with pound-sized bricks of yellow-white powder. A “Lift’n Buddy” electric hand truck stood against the wall. Leaning beside that was a woged Blutbad, in black T-shirt and jeans, growling to itself, its furred arms folded on its chest. A submachine gun on a strap hung over one of its shoulders.
    The other two figures were just finishing stacking powder bricks on the palette. They appeared human—but using his Grimm sight, Nick could see they weren’t. One of them, short, thick, and blunt featured, was a Drang-zorn. The other was bigger, scowling... probably a Hasslich.
    Nick drew back, and pulled out his cell phone. Perhaps if the Icy Touch thugs were surrounded by uniformed officers, they’d revert to human appearance and come along quietly. Maybe. But his cell phone had no signal. Figured, this far underground. Nick sighed, shook his head at the others, and put the phone away.
    They’d have to come up with something else—maybe a decoy, someone to distract them while he and Hank got the drop... Since Monroe was here, he might as well be useful.
    Nick turned to Monroe, signaled with a finger on his lips for silence, and tried to mime what he wanted Monroe to do—as if he were playing charades. He acted out a woge, miming turning visibly Wesen, making fangs with two fingers at Monroe. Aware, as he did this, that despite the danger, Hank was covering his mouth to keep from laughing. Monroe just gaped at him in puzzlement, and then started to speak. Nick quickly put a hand over Monroe’s mouth and shook his head. Then he enacted the woge again, pointed toward the Wesen guards... and Monroe’s eyes lit up.
    Monroe nodded, closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating—and then became, visibly, a Blutbad, sprouting fur, fangs, his eyes becoming feral. And not a moment too soon.
    A gruff voice spoke from around the corner.
    “I smell someone—visitors. You guys getting that scent? Someone close...”
    “Yeah, that’d be me, fellas,” Monroe said, chattering as he stepped out into view. His voice was altered, made more guttural by the transformation. “Ha, shoulda taken a shower this morning. Got all kinda smells on me, from, uh, fighting humans, and... you know how it goes. I guess I shoulda called ahead. But, hey, no cell phone service down here.”
    “Who the hell are you?” asked the gruff voice.
    “Boss sent me to tell you guys the stuff here’s going to be picked up sooner’n planned. The other guys are coming pretty quick to get it...”
    “We were told we’d be standing guard for a few hours. Only been an hour.”
    “Sure, that’s why I’m here...”
    “I don’t remember you from the meetings,” the gruff voice went on.
    “You don’t remember this?”
    Nick looked around the corner in time to see Monroe grab the submachine gun hanging on the Blutbad’s shoulder. He broke the snap, but, before he could turn it against the Icy Touch Wesen, the guard had lunged at him, knocking him back...
    Nick and Hank darted around the corner, guns in hand.
    “Police!” Nick shouted. “Get down on the ground!”
    Only the Drang-zorn obeyed. Near the Drang-zorn, in mere seconds, the other man transformed, a full-on woge into Hasslich: his ears went pointier, tufted; his face became chiseled and gaunt; his eyes turned red, pupils slitting; his teeth became serrated as a saw blade; and fingers extended claws, muscles stretched, ripping his clothes.
    The Wesen troll charged at Hank.
    Nick ran to help Monroe who was rolling across the