Jack picked up his cell phone with the same wariness that people usually reserved for things found stuck to the bottom of their shoe.
"Hello?" He tried to keep the sigh of out his voice, but wasn't very sucessful. He sat down on the edge of his bed, lamenting the coldness of it.
"Jack Crawford?"
The voice was male, and unfamiliar. Rough, as though they'd recently lost their voice.
"Who's asking?" He responded, only realizing after the words had left his mouth that he had answered the question without even meaning to. "And why do you want to know?" He growled the words, irritated at being so easily maneuvered into giving away information he didn't want to. It didn't matter that someone calling him probably already knew who he was. That want the point.
Bersheyna sat at his feet, and rested her head on his knee, her ears perked and trained to listen to the call.
There came a laugh from the other end of the phone line, and Jack almost lost his patience and hung up. "My name isn't important," the voice replied, "And even if I told you what it was, you wouldn't be able to find me."
"Any reason in particular I would want to find you?" If this was another person calling to confess they were the Ripper, he was going to break his phone in half and smash it beneath his foot.
"I would say you might want to send me a fruit basket, but we both know things are never that simple. I'll get right to the point, after you answer just one question for me."
There was a pause, and Jack assumed he was supposed to be agreeing. He narrowed his eyes, considering his options. After a moment, he sighed, deciding that it would be best to just play along, in case it wasn't simply a prank call. "What is your question?"
"Do you have Abigail Hobbs?"
The question was so random and unexpected that Jack could only stare at the wall opposite him for a few seconds, utterly and completely confused. "What?"
"I know for a fact that Freddie Lounds is alive, as is Frederick Chilton, and Alana Bloom. I am asking you if Abgial Hobbs is safe as well."
"Freddie Lounds was declared missing, and Frederick Chilton was killed in an accident. Alana Bloom died in a plane crash. I don't know who told you otherwise, but-"
"You know what?" The voice cut him off, "Fine. I know you can't tell me, you need to keep up the pretense for their safety.I get that. I shouldn't have even asked in the first place, that was kind of stupid of me." The voice seemed regretful.
"Is there a reason you called me, other than to ask me inane questions?" Jack demanded, starting to get fed up. He didn't need this crap right now.
"Yes," the voice replied firmly, "I just thought you might want to know you won't have to worry about the Chesapeke Ripper anymore. Hannibal Lecter is dead."
For the second time, Jack was left utterly dumbfounded. "What do you-"
"In fact, I'm going to be placing a 911 call from his house as soon as this conversation is over. If you decided to trace this call, you can already confirm where I am. I know you're going to come in ready for a fight, but there's really no need. He's in the kitchen, and a thourough search of his house will unearth more than enough evidence to confirm his crimes."
"Is this a confession?" Jack was on his feet and heading toward the door as he spoke.
"To killing Hannibal Lecter? To put it simply, yes. But I'm not going to be here when your officers arrive. I didn't do this to get recognition, and, no, you don't need to worry about me doing this again. Lecter was an isolated incident that couldn't be tolerated."
Jack was too busy grabbing his keys off the coffee table to pay much attention to what was being said, and he almost missed the next few words.
"Well, I've said all I needed to say. Sorry if the next few days are chaotic, oh, and, before I go, as a gesture of goodwill on my part, I've taken care of your wife's problem. She'll be fine. Have a nice life, Jack."
The line went dead just as he opened the door to his car.
He had hit speed-dial before Bersheyna had even jumped into the car after him, and barked into the phone as soon as someone answered, "Trace the last call made to this phone, now!"
Five minutes later, Jack had gotten confirmation that a 911 call had been placed from Hannibal Lecter's house, and police had been dispatched.
Five minutes after that, he got confirmation that Hannibal was dead.
His neck had been snapped clean in half.
Fifteen minutes after that, and he was able to see it all with his own eyes.
Hannibal lay fallen across the floor of his immaculate kitchen, his face slack, his eyes open and staring, looking, to Jack's eyes, smaller somehow, and lonely.
Jack had seen a lot of dead bodies in his life, but none had ever struck him the way Hannibal Lecter's did then.
Because that damned owl of his, Stergata, she should have been lying there next to him on the floor, her wings as crooked and bent as his head wher it lay at an odd angle, her black eyes open to reflect the flashes of the cameras.
But she wasn't there, because Hannibal Lecter was dead, and she had long since disappeared in a swirl of golden Shadows.
The thought of it hurt something deep inside him, and Jack didn't even want to contemplate what that said about him.
Bersheyna stayed closet o him the entire time they were there, her eyes never leaving the body, the silent growl that his inside her throat vibrating through his leg when she leaned against him.
Will stepped through the house like an ancient spirit passing through walls it had long since learned to disregard.
Kali's steps were short, her body held low, her tail sweeping the ground, her hackles raised on end, her eyes flashing, her mouth parted to show her teeth.
She entered the kitchen as though expecting to be attacked with every moment that passed.
Her stance shifted as soon as she saw the body, her claws digging into the floor, her posture dropping until Jack thought for one horrified moment that she was going to launch herself forward and tear Lecter to pieces.
But she stayed where she was, and let nothing but the grisly snarl that rolled out of her mouth say anything toward what her reaction was.
Will was as calm as a rock whethering a storm, and just stared at Lecter for a few moments before turning his gaze on Jack.
"Well," he said, lifting his eyebrows, "I guess I can sleep soundly tonight."
The undercurrents of his words weren't lost on Jack.
"What can you tell me that I don't already know?" He said, making a concerted effort to ignore the way Kali's face was still twisting horrifically, and the way the growl in Bersheyna's throat had become a high whimper.
Will smirked, and shrugged. "It's like I told you before, Jack," he said flatly, "He wasn't going to stop until he hunted down every last one of them."
Jack took a moment to absorb the information. "This has something to do with Marona Katz? You think this was revenge?"
"Oh, Jack, this has everything to do with Marona Katz." Then Will laughed, actually laughed, even as his daemon extruded enough animosity and hatred to scare anyone within a hundred foot radius.
"Don't you start going funny on me, Will." Jack snapped, patience at its end.
But Will shook his head, still chuckling.
When Kali spoke her voice was dark enough to melt steel. "This wasn't revenge. This was removing a threat."
Will's laughter cut off abruptly, and Kali jerked as though struck, hard enough that she lost her balance, and stumbled into Will's side, her eyes suddenly wide, terror in every inch of her body.
"Will?" Jack stepped forward, alarmed, as the blood drained from Will's face, and he stumbled backwards, his gaze locked onto something behind Jack.
But Bersheyna was casting her gaze everywhere, and they were alone in the room but for Hannibal's lifeless body.
"Will, maybe you should-"
He was going to say 'leave the room', but Will beat him to it, spinning around with a strangled cry and bolting before Jack could even realize what was happening. Kali tore after him, a shriek tearing from her throat even as she disappeared around the door frame.
Something crashed to the ground, there came a shout, and by the time Jack had made it out of the kitchen, the front door was slamming shut on its hinges, and an extremely alarmed photographer and her lizard daemon were picking themselves up from the floor.
He opened his mouth to demand to know what had happened, but a chill as cold as ice swept down his spine before he could speak, and at the very edges of his awareness, a howl skirted along his senses, and turned his heart to stone with dread.
Bersheyna trembling by his feet, Jack was suddenly overcome with fear, and it was all he could do to keep himself from breaking into a sprint as he headed for the door. "Keep working." He snarled when concerned glances turned his way, "I'm going to go track down Will."
Yes. Yes, that was a good excuse to get away from the house that suddenly seemed too small, and the kitchen, and the body that lay within it, and the howl still ringing in his ears.
Jack Crawford stepped out into the darkness of the night, and tried to convince himself that he wasn't running away.