The Grimm Dossier

Chapter 27 - The Secrets

England, West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
St George, Skirrid Inn
5 November 1898, 11:19 a.m.

Behind Kyle's eyes burned the consuming fatigue of a weary mind. His fingers drew circles at his temples, and a few strands of raven-black hair tickled his skin. Still feeling caked with blood and mire this morning, he even washed his hair twice. Now he wore it combed back. As it began to dry, the curls sprang back out and fell forward into his features and forehead.

Dr. Archer must have been just as tired because he was even more taciturn that morning than the days before. Again and again, he rubbed his chest conspicuously, so that his skin was already a little red in that spot. He wasn't wearing his shirt buttoned all the way up, his scarf hung loosely around his collar and his jacket rested over the back of his chair. Unlike Kyle, who was carefully dressed, the doctor looked more like he was actually in this place for recreation but couldn't cope with the beds.

Kyle closed his eyes for a moment. Today the Skirrid Inn was almost empty. Only at one table, at the other end of the taproom, sat two elderly gentlemen, just as they had the day before. They were talking in hushed tones, for a few moments even about Walsh's poor daughter. Slowly, it seemed to dawn on one or the other of the villagers that perhaps there was more going on here than had previously appeared. And for a community like the Order of Seekers, which wanted to prevent exactly that, that was anything but good. The sword of Damocles was already hanging over their heads. Under no circumstances was it allowed to come out that something supernatural was going on here. They were running out of time. Kyle took a deeper breath. A soft clink sounded as he placed the teacup back on the saucer and folded his hands on the table in front of him. His gaze slid to the side, checking the room once furtively, then latched onto the other seeker.

"So." he began, and Benjamin raised his eyes. "What the hell was that last night?"

"What part exactly are you talking about?" asked Dr. Archer. Kyle was sure Archer knew exactly what he meant! It didn't escape Kyle's notice that the doctor shifted his sitting position, also lowering his cup and leaning back a little. The moss green eyes settled on the mage and sized him up almost lurkingly. Kyle felt as if he had just poked a bee's nest once with his stick and was now listening to the growing buzzing inside that was meant to be a warning to him. Most people noticed the vibration in the air, sensed the thunderstorm in the distance, and preferred to drop the subject before the first flash of lightning struck them. 

Awkwardly, Kyle's curiosity had been aroused. He was all too happy to stick his nose into the increasing wind, to feel for the change in the air, and knew before some others that it was going to thunder. Yet he did not retreat into protective undergrowth like a rabbit so fondly given to mages' sides. Instead, he reached out to the sky to be the first to catch a drop. Kyle wanted to get to the bottom of things. Even if he pricked his fingers trying.

That's why he curled his lips slightly, then raised his hand and pointed lightly to the spot between his shoulder and his chest.

"You kind of healed my injuries," Kyle said dryly, not taking his eyes off Dr. Archer. The doctor's gaze met his and neither of them averted it again. The moment dragged on. Then the doctor clicked his tongue and let out a long sigh.

"I guess I did," he said as if that explained everything.