The Grimm Dossier

Chapter 50 - The Beast

England, West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
Dyowl's Hollow - Woods of Dartmoor
5 November 1898, 10:41 pm

The monster shot towards him so quickly that he barely had time to pull the trigger. Although Ben's muscles had already been stretched to breaking point and all he had to do was crook his finger, it seemed like an eternity before the flash of light finally released the shot. There was a bang, the noise shattered the eerie silence and the bullet trailed a short tail of muzzle flash, smoke, and sparks.

The projectile pierced the billowing body, which moved with superhuman speed. The sinister shadow with glowing eyes shot through wisps of mist and darkness toward him. Benjamin leaped to the side and his legs flew across the leaf-strewn ground. Within a second, the hunter became the hunted.

He felt a blow narrowly miss him. The breeze brushed past his neck and shoulder and he pulled the trigger again. Clicking, the drum of his revolver spun and a new rumble echoed into the night. Ben saw the bullet enter the figure's shoulder. The force jerked the body sideways at an angle and pushed the monster back at least a little. Then Ben hooked it and charged toward the little girl. Behind him, earth and foliage swirled under his hurried steps. Just before he reached her, he heard a threatening sound of approaching leaves rustling and Ben drew his revolver forward again for a shot.

He aimed at the grimace covered with the skin of black leather, glowing eyes and a mouth full of fangs ripped open. The face was contorted into a single expression of bloodlust, gloating, and murder. Long claws stretched out towards him, ready to rip his throat apart and add a few more to the collection of bones in the caverns.

A drum of fire set quick drumbeats in the silence. Benjamin pulled the trigger. Again and again. Until the clack of the empty drum sounded and even then two or three more times. The beast roared with rage. A viscous mass oozed from the wounds, staining the formless body with a shiny liquid like oil, and then lost itself in the black swathes of shadow.

Immediately Ben's hand went to his side and reached for the small leather bag in which he kept the ammunition. Cold casings nestled in his fingers. They clicked dully as he slid them into the empty tubes with deft, quick grips and closed the drum again. Only when he had replenished the ammunition did his gaze dare to travel to the little girl.

Her expression was completely relaxed, a curl fell over the braid of scars on her face and her small lips were slightly parted. It was as if she hadn't even heard the deafening gunshots or the struggle around her. Benjamin's fingers jerked to the small neck. Relief flooded him: she was still breathing. Regularly and calmly. Her pulse beat steadily beneath the soft, thin skin, almost as if she had simply fallen asleep in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now a spiteful laugh came from the direction of his pursuer. He slid horizontally to the side with an unnatural leap. As if he had no legs to support him, it resembled the movement of a snake. "She won't wake up. Not if I don't want her to." sneered the hissing voice, "Her soul is mine!" Then it shot towards Benjamin again.

This time he was not fast enough. A loud scream escaped from his throat and went into the night. Thin black fingers with the strength of a strangler caught him and grabbed his arm: it first jerked him up so that he felt the tips of his shoes hanging over the forest floor and then smashed him to the ground again. All the air was forced out of his lungs and only by instinct did he not drop the revolver immediately. A larger stone had pressed into his side and his body complained noticeably under the sharp claws that had torn open his arm and flesh. The creature leaned so close that the sickening stench again assailed his senses.