You think you had a tough time getting to sleep last night? At least you’re not facing down Grimm’s creepy new monster, which taps into those primal fears about what goes bump in the night.
Twitchy, down-on-his-luck Dan is staying at the publicly subsidized Englewood Hotel, where you’d never want to walk around barefoot and bedbugs are the least of your problems—although it’s probably got those, too.
When he enters the hotel, both the manager and the lady down the hall yell at him to keep it down at night, while an ominous elderly man with an oxygen tank and a wheelchair, who may as well be holding a sign that says “suspect me!” in his wizened hands, watches with beady little eyes.
Dan engages all the locks in his room and nails a huge chain across the windows. He peeks under the bed and in the closet, then strips to his boxers and nervously climbs into bed, clutching his hammer.
Sleep finally comes, but he’s awakened by a green vapor that slithers into his nose. Then we see that he is being menaced by a creature with a four-way split mouth and glowing green teeth in rows all the way down its throat.
Thanks, Grimm. None of us wanted to sleep tonight.
When he wakes up the next morning, he freaks and races outside, ranting and mumbling. A kind passerby offers to take him to a shelter so he can get some sleep. “You want me to sleep?” Dan asks incredulously. He leaps on the good Samaritan and beats his head into the payment. Man, no good deed, amirite?
Meanwhile, Nick asks his research team to investigate the photos he took of Eve’s tunnel carvings. It’s a mishmash of centuries and civilizations: Sumerian, Mayan, alphabetic, logographic, symbolic, syllabic. “We need our own Rosetta stone to crack this mess,” Monroe concludes.
Then he has a breakthrough and hypothesizes that a series of seven stars could be the Pleiades constellation. In autumn, these stars rise as the sun sets, and many ancient people associated Pleiades with mourning, which explains the timing of Halloween, the Day of the Dead, and so forth. Plus, you’ve got seven stars, seven Grimm crusaders, seven keys…
As the ideas fly, Eve smiles in happiness, then catches herself. Feelings, man! They consider the possibility that it’s a calendar, but “a calendar of when?” Monroe asks. Eve suggests an event that happened a very, very long time ago, which might tell them where the stick came from. Yeah, I’m starting to think I was waaaaay off on my guess that this was a splinter from Christ’s cross.
At the precinct, Hank asks how the new roommate sitch is going with Nick’s Hexenbiest baby mama girlfriend and his Hexenbiest ex-fiancé, and he declares it weird. Yeah, that’s fair. He starts to fill Hank in on their cloth findings when Wu calls them to the scene of the good Samaritan’s murder. Hank’s relieved. “I’ll take a cold-blooded murder over an unsolvable ancient riddle about the universe any day.”
NEXT: Be very afraid of what goes bump in the night