The Grimm Dossier

Chapter 22 - The Moon

England, West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
St. George, St. George's churchyard
5 November 1898, 02:41 hrs.

For a brief moment, their eyes met full of oppressive foreboding. Then, abruptly, the searchers began to move. Cries for help stabbed into the night. The shouting seemed to come from all directions, but Benjamin was sure that it was only due to the plain and its distance from the village. A loud, bloodcurdling howl joined it and Benjamin felt his heart stumble. Crowford grasped the fact as quickly as he did: they had heard the howl in the forest. But now it sounded much closer.

Footsteps drummed beneath them like a heartbeat. Earth and leaves smacked as they ran across the graveyard and rushed out of the gate. Then, by one of the trees, Crowford stopped suddenly and reached for his coat. The momentum, however, swept the slimmer Seeker along with him. The latter then almost lost his balance on the slippery path down the hill. Caught up in the momentum, they both almost fell. They staggered a step and Ben just managed to grab Crowford's arm, which helped him to regain his footing.

While Ben seemed barely out of breath, Crowford was already struggling for air. "You mustn't... see us coming out of the... Cemetery!" Kyle groaned between heavy breaths. He pointed to the narrow path to the village. "You go to the village. I'll see what I can find out!" he continued. Ben's brow furrowed, a thousand questions on his lips. But they had no time to waste. What if someone else became a victim because of this, or they missed clues!!! So he nodded quickly and his coat fluttered behind him as he hurried towards the houses.

When Ben reached the edge of the village, he slowed down just in time. Crowford was right, it would only be suspicious if he came from the direction of the cemetery. Especially at this ungodly hour and in his present earth-smeared state. So he crept through the back alleys. Along narrow, well-worn footpaths, some overgrown with wild grass. Behind the Skirrid Inn building, in its backyard, Ben hastily reached into a water barrel. It was filled with rainwater, but it would have to do for the moment. He shoveled some of the cold water onto his face to wash away dirt and grime. He brushed the dirt and leaves from his coat, stroked his hair once, and then reached for the door handle of the back entrance.

Ben's heart pounded like a guest in his chest, demanding entry to the building. But then the latch blocked. The door was locked. Ben uttered a silent curse, but it did no good. Voices echoed through the side alley to him and cautiously he crept to the corner of the building to peek through.

A few people had gathered in the marketplace. He saw torches and lanterns, candles behind protective hands, and people in nightclothes, and overcoats. A confusion he took advantage of. Quickly he slipped through the dark alley and from there behind a few rushing men into the tangle of people, so that hopefully no one noticed when he joined them. More and more lights lit up in the houses. A woman looked out of one of the windows, blinking wearily. A larger crowd had formed next to the fountain. Elly, too, stood there in slippers with her knitted shawl gathered in front of her chest, and Baltimore formed the center of the crowd. A woman tugged at his coat and reassuringly he put his hands on her shoulders.

"Please, calm down." pleaded Baltimore urgently, but the woman seemed completely beside herself.

"Don't stand there!" she cried angrily. Her shoulders shook and tears smeared her face. Her eyes were wide and her neck throbbed with a racing pulse.