The Grimm Dossier

Chapter 52 - The Binding-Circle

England, West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
Dyowl's Hollow - Woods of Dartmoor
5 November 1898, 10:50 pm

A deep dark rumble came full-throated from the creature's chest. Kyle could see that it was in a rage. And he couldn't have cared less. If this filthy son of a bitch should be angry and raving, then perhaps he made mistakes in his frenzy. And those could be to their advantage.

It couldn't get any worse and their lives were already on the line. It was now either the thing or them. And just escaping death, to his own surprise, there was no fear rumbling in his stomach this time. The clammy, oppressive feeling had drowned in the black water and given way to dogged resentment.

"It is not possible. This magic far exceeds your abilities pathetic hedge mage." the creature croaked, then its pointed chin slid higher. The long, scrawny nose stretched, nostrils flared like great nostrils, and inhaled deeply.

He squinted his eyes into narrow slits and, teeth bared, his gaze now caught the wizard's hand. The tissue around the thumb, from which red blood smeared across the wrist, inviting more to be torn open, was streaked with a blackish tinge. Then, all at once, realization flashed in his eyes and the contorted grimace widened the eyes, which until just now had been narrowed to slits, in a mixture of disbelief and realization.

"Blood magic..." he murmured then, tasting the sinister word on his tongue, and Kyle could see Benjamin now staring at him from even wider eyes. "How dare you tear a hole in the fabric so recklessly!"

"You made me do it, you bastard." Kyle hissed back dryly, piercing the grotesque figure with an equally icy stare as he now stood up. He wiped the black hair from his forehead and eyes so it wouldn't block his vision. Now, for the first time, he could see the beast that was making their lives so difficult. Grotesquely disfigured forms, so inhuman and gruesome to look at that he would have liked to throw up again. "You almost killed me. Who or what the hell are you?!"

"I am the Dragon of Manaton..." the monster began to hiss...

The dragon of Manaton. Dragon. A switch finally flipped in Kyle's head and now the myriad of pieces meshed together.

The story of the new priest came to his mind. Countless years ago, a knight was supposed to have slain a dragon in this area. That's why this place was called St. George.

St. George, and his battle against the dragon, was symbolic of Christianity's victory over the pagans - and the devil. The slaying of the beast.

People were still afraid of the place in the woods. Dyowl's Hollow. The Devil's Hollow. Kyle's eyes clung to the glowing red feather that danced and glowed on the creature's hide. Little sparks broke loose and scattered in the night before going out. In German and Baltic fairy tales, the devil often appeared with a red feather on his hat.

Now everything suddenly made sense. How could he have been so blind?!

"You're a demon," pronounced Kyle, interrupting the creature who was already in the process of boasting all his titles and false names. "YOU are a goddamn demon." Clicking teeth interlocked and kept the wheels turning in his mind.