Chapter 4: One of Them

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It took me about a week, but I finally established myself as a valid member of Bergen's crew. We panhandle or scrounge mostly, but every so often, our crew comes across some unsavory Wesen that needs to be stopped. I've noticed that Bergen assigns more and more diversionary duties to the others, while I am the one who goes in for the kill—sometimes figuratively, sometimes literally.

After roaming alongside a highway for a few days, we came to a city; I'm not sure what it's called, but there seemed to be quite a lot of trouble and unsavory types.

At first the crew made themselves at home among the lowlifes, even swaggered a bit to show that we didn't mind skirting the law now and then, either. A couple of the more noted "vagrants" showed their woge. I saw Rienigen. But when we looked for them the next morning, they were gone. We wandered around the general areas, amid locals who didn't glance twice at the newcomers (mostly because we could blend in with the locals well enough if we spread out), but there seemed to be not even a hint that the wayward "rat-men" lived anywhere in town.

It bothered me more than it bothered Bergen. He only shrugged.

"Maybe they hide," he suggested.

"Where?" I don't know why, but I just felt like challenging him on it, "there is no reason for them to do that; look around the park! There are at least twenty people missing, if not more. Where and why would twenty people hide during the day? Why come out at night?"

He wouldn't talk about it. Later, as we sat around a small bonfire we made from trash and dead branches, somebody mentioned Burkhart.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"The other Grimm," Oliver answered. "He lives in Portland, a few hundred miles north of here."

"Seriously?" Something clicked inside me, and I could almost feel my body humming with energy. "Can we meet him?"

"No," Bergen snapped. "It would take too long to get us all there."

"Besides," Vexie inserted, "we don't want another Grimm to know about us."

I turned to her. She stared goggle-eyed at the fire, fingering the limp, greasy locks of her dark hair.

"Why not?" I wondered.

"He's a cop!" Justin snarled in my face. "He'll arrest us for sure!"

I looked at Bergen, "But I thought you said he was a good Grimm—like me."

Bergen hesitated. "I did say he was good..." he admitted, "at doing his job. And his job," he frowned at me, "Is locking up pickpockets and scroungers like us. No, we'll go around Portland when we get there."

I wondered what his problem was, but just then, we heard a rustling in the bushes. Everybody fell silent and listened.

"It's the Reinigen!" Vexie had the best night vision, and besides, she and Justin were already in the trees and so had a better vantage point than we did. I saw the small shapes scurrying through the bracken. There they all were, headed for the city.

I wanted to follow them, but Bergen objected. "We're moving out in the morning; no need to meddle in something that doesn't concern us."

It just didn't feel right to me. "We can't let those people overrun the town!"

"They're not overrunning the town!" Bergen cried.

Just then we heard loud crashing.
Connor, the Klaustriechen, the Fuchsbauen and I snuck to the edge of the forest to see what was happening.

The grungy, dirty Reinigen were trashing a store. They broke display cases, threw stuff around, and a few even tagged surfaces with spray paint.

Once it was done, they all retreated back into the forest. By the time the cops arrived, there was no sign of the vandals.

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