This chapter is dedicated to Steal Beating Heart, thank you for all your hard work and contribution to this chapter and for inspiring me!
It didn't take long to arrive at a characterless and raffish motel. Not being ideal but doable for a night or two. They pulled up in front of the office, Clarice drummed her fingers on the steering wheel; her heart had been thumping against her rib cage the entire drive, now she was about to rent a room with a psychotic cannibal. She saw the attendant behind the counter, watching tv, and she wondered if Dr. Lecter would go in or send her in. Would he trust her not to tell the tall lanky man to inform the police? Would she trust herself not too? She had been so consumed with her own thoughts that she didn't realize Hannibal's stare intently watching as she sifted through her own cloudiness. Clarice's fingers now gripped the wheel.
"Clarice." Lecter's voice was intentionally low in tone and pitch to prevent her from jumping. He could sit and watch her all night but his wound would need attention soon.
Knowing all the options had already run through that delicious mind of hers, he simply said one word, "Please."
She sat for a long moment before swiftly moving from the car and entering the motel. Lecter watched with interest as she quickly spoke with the greasy attendant. She hadn't phoned the police, surprise and pride flashed through his maroon eyes as he watched Clarice exit the office and back to the car; room key in hand and the attendant ogling after her from behind the counter.
She slipped back into the car, then proceeded to park in the spot in front of their temporary abode. Clarice unlocked the motel door before Hannibal climbed out of the car and barely limped into the shabby room. Hannibal scanned the room as he entered, a simple layout, one bed; queen, did they not have two twin bed option? This didn't bother him, but Clarice will have a few choice words.
Hannibal made his way into the bathroom, "Clarice will you be so kind and bring the black duffle bag from the trunk of the car?" Clarice nodded rushing back out the door, not long after her return did she find him in the bathroom settled on the side of the, sickly shade of green, tub.
"What can I do to help?" She knelt down before him. He watched as her worried expression intensified with a closer inspection of his wound. Hannibal had already evaluated his position, he would not need a second pair of hands but knowing she would not go even if he asked; he would not ask her to do such a thing when she was all to willing to help.
"Grab the medical box from the black duffle bag, find the scissors." He said as if instructing her to drive a car. She located the medical box, placed it at her side then pulled out a pair of medical scissors. Clarice rotated back to him. Hannibal used a finger to draw out a line on his thigh, "Cut along here, then a T section towards the knife."
Clarice took in a deep breath to steady herself, scooting a little closer. She paced herself cutting the fabric and not him. She nearly finished the T section when the scissors bumped the blade causing his leg to twitch. She stopped, "Sorry, are you ok?"
"I'm fine, Clarice. Continue." His eyes watched her fingers intently. She set the scissors down and pulled back the cut flaps of his pants away from the blade.
"Now grab a clean towel from the bag, I'm going to pull the knife out and you are going to apply pressure. Can you do that, Clarice?"
"Of course, I've taken basic medical course." She pulled out a hand towel. Hannibal leaned over and grabbed the medical kit, setting in on the rim of the tub with him.
Hannibal grasped and ripped the knife from his thigh. Clarice was quick to cover the wound and press down hard. a sharp exhale from him caught her attention. Most men would grunt or growl with just pain, not him, he kept composure even with excruciating pain. Her knees were starting to feel sore on the, horribly chosen, tiled floor. Clarice attempted to shift while keeping her compression firm when Hannibal's hand rested on top of hers.
"Sit next to me, it will be easier on your legs." She nodded to his suggestion, changing positions to sit on the rim of the tub with him; her leg against his as a brace when she took over the compression. Hannibal reached over to turn on the tub momentarily running the knife under water before shutting it off again. Hannibal opened the medical box, placing the knife there preceding to prepare a needle and thread.
Several minutes passed as she watched him prepare to stitch up his own leg when he turned to her, "I believe the bleeding will have slowed enough for me to suture this up. Would you please grab the other bags from the car?"
"Dr. Lect-" she finally looked up into his eyes.
"Clarice, I welcome your vexation but I assure you that I am out of harm's way. Undeviatingly from your actions." A smile tenderly crossed his face, "Thank you, Clarice."
The last time she recalled a similar smile from him was at Chesapeake Bay, accompanied with such a compliment that nearly had her in tears. His smile brought back the sensation of his fingers caressing her cheek. Clarice decided to not argue with him and left the bathroom, closing the door on her way out. She swiftly made her way to the car to retrieve the other bags. As she opened the trunk, a familiar bell tone sounded off in the distance. She groaned to herself when she heard a fast paced crunch of gravel under shoes headed her way.
Clarice prepared her best facade for the motel manager as he approached her. "Miss Dante?"
"Yes?" she turned to face him.
"I just wanted to thank you for choosing our establishment." He glanced at the trunk of her car, spotted her bags before continuing, "May I help you with your bags?" He stepped in closer to reach for them.
"No, thank you, I'm capable of taking them in." Clarice closed the trunk door most of the way, to prevent him from doing so.
"Oh. Alright. Miss... um..."
She knew he was searching for her first name and that he had no capacity to remember, "Calistro." She filled in for him.
"Calistro Dante." His smile revealed his two front teeth protruding forward. His lanky body, greasy as if he has bathed in oil and his face pock marked from years of sever acne had reminded her of an Eel smiling. "So... I uh," He stammered on, "I saw a man with you." Clarice caught him glancing at the door of their room. She had forgotten to put down his name when she ordered the room. A quick thought processed and she felt more confident about killing two birds with one stone to prevent this man attempting any unwanted advances toward her.
"Oh yes. That's my husband." Her heart fluttered when she heard the sound of her own voice. "Alan Tercel. I apologize, we are recently married and I tend to let it slip from my memory." She was thankful to see the discouragement in his face and that he did not look for a ring on her left hand.
"if there's anything else-" She started before he nervously cut her off.
"Oh no. Please have a great night. And don't hesitate to call the front desk for anything." He took a couple steps back before turning around fully and walked back to the office. Clarice waited until then to open the truck, pull the two last bags out, then precede to the room door.
She found that it hadn't been closed all the way and it was easy to push open using a bag. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darker room as she stepped in and used her foot to close the door she spotted two red pinpoints of light in the corner. In the instance it took for her eyes adjusted was when she spotted Hannibal sitting in a chair; fingers interlaced under his nose, hiding the smile on his face.
Clarice set the bags down on the bed then flicked a light switch to brighten the dreary room. "How much did you hear?" She asked averting her eyes to some hideous painting of a sail boat.
"Enough." His smile mockingly shown through the tone of his voice. "I quite like how you defused the situation, Clarice."
"Yeah I'm sure you do, at least he won't pursue me." Clarice opened the one duffle, brown with pink trim, to find articles of women's clothing; meant for her.
"Unquestionably, when you are singing of hymeneals, Clarice." Lecter stood, paced himself as he approached just short of a few steps from her and the second bag, black with red trim, for him. "I am particularly interested in your choice of names." She fiddled with a shirt, feeling him approach.
"Don't tell me you didn't catch the meaning behind Tercel, Doctor." She pretended to be interested in the shirt.
"Oh I did, my dear, and must I say 'your anagrams are showing,' but I was hoping for more insight into your own personal pseudonym, Clarice." He noted, with a smile that made Clarice's stomach tie itself in knots of unease and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. Was it dread, fear? Possibly, she had known others to crumble into a whimpering ball under one of Doctor Lecter's lesser looks but she didn't feel anything like that. Instead the strange feeling she got was more of a pleasant flutter of anticipation of the next moment they would share together. She knew she shouldn't be feeling this way about anyone especially him. She shouldn't be anticipating the next time she would feel his fingers on her bare skin or feel the glorious warmth of his kiss. She shouldn't be feeling a longing need to be close to this man but there was just something about him.
Correction it was everything about him, his deep husky voice that was never more than a whisper and yet could be somehow louder than any shout with one of his insults. His silver tongue that somehow managed to probe the most intimate, dark places of her mind and push all the right buttons to make her find him so charming and irresistible. Then there were his eyes, his hypnotic eyes that seemed to penetrate her soul and make her feel as if there was nothing she could do that he wouldn't already anticipate. It gave her an undeniable feeling of need to be around Doctor Lecter that she had never felt with anyone before and so it was a feeling that she would always associate with him.
"It was nothing, just something I remembered from Greek mythology that's all" she muttered avoiding making eye contact with The Doctor at all costs. Yet she could see it out of the corner of her eye, as the smile turned into a grin as Lecter fixing her with that un-swayable, predatory gaze of his. It always made her feel slightly vulnerable when he gave her that look, like she was a tiny little starling being watched by the cruel and powerful hawk and the twisted thing about it was that it always turned her on.
She tried her hardest to ignore the predatory grin she knew was there waiting for her to turn around. The mere thought of it made an involuntary shiver run through her, starting as a tingling sensation on the bare skin at the nape of her neck. It reminded her of how his breath had felt against her neck when he had been changing her bandages and she remembered the feeling of his skillful fingertips at the apex of her breast giving her a moment of pleasure before they were gone. She had to mentally kick herself for bringing that mental image up now under Lecter's watchful eye. He body had reacted naturally and she was aroused by the memory, her heartbeat increasing to something of a flutter and she knew it as a mistake.
"I believe your choice of nom de plume had more meaning then you think, Clarice." He paused for a moment. "Callisto was one of Artemis' hunting attendants. She took a vow for Artemis... just as you did for ol' Jackie boy. Tell me Clarice, truthfully, was Jack Crawford there for you; after Chesapeake Bay?"
Clarice already knew he would be watching her every move with interest, waiting for her to tense up or revile her emotions in some. Though this would be a rookie mistake and she had known Doctor Lecter for far too long to fall for something like that.
"No, Doctor." Taking in a deep breath, she physically relaxed, softening her posture slightly as she pretended that she was unaware of his smile or the intriguing affect it had on her.
"And am I to assume you received a magazine, to which similar copies were sent to FBI heads and judges on your case?" He watched the wheels turn in her head as she placed pieces together.
"Would that be Hera, Doctor? Trying to convince Artemis that I am an animal to be hunted?"
"Yes, Clarice."
"And what part do you play, Doctor Lecter?" She raised a brow in his direction, "Are you Zeus? Have been seducing me all these years?" She cocked a small smile with the word seducing. "And are you here to save me? To place me among the stars?" Their eyes locked together in equally intensified gazes. "Am I fated to circle the North Star and never set over the horizon?" Clarice smiled coyly. "So is that what you think of me Doctor?" Her tone reflecting her demure. "Someone to seduce and save?" Hannibal felt her chipping away at his self control, deflecting his tactics to provoke her as if they were petty annoyances. She didn't fall for the bate he placed; instead she focused her sights on him. Was he becoming the proverbial hunted hunter?
"You are so much more than that, Clarice." His voice dropped down to a huskier tone. Hannibal watched her shuddering reaction to his words. She shifted her focus to examine another shirt from her case instead of the stimulating prickle from his gaze at the back of her neck. She frowned for a minute as her fingertips passed over the material of the shirt; it was soft and incredibly smooth reminding her of polished, high quality silk. "Just like him, extravagant as ever" she thought to herself with a smile yet as carefully unfolded the garment she was shocked to find that it was not a shirt at all but instead a very small and oh so revealing little night gown. It looked as if it had been bought from a high end lingerie store, the type that claim that they are a 'boutique of the erotic' to stand out from your run of the mill sleazy porno sellers.
Clarice couldn't help but admire the quality of the garment, the stitches were almost invisible and everything about it was luxurious. Usually she would appreciate a fine piece of clothing such as this but it was something that lovers would exchange before spending a passionate night together. The thought of this put her somewhat on edge. What was the meaning of the night gown? What kind of game was Lecter playing, was he just testing her? It was possible, in fact it was a distinct possibility that he was just trying to mind fuck her as usual.
She quickly put the night gown back, lying it in the lid of the suitcase while she search through the rest of the clothing "that smug, conniving bastard" she thought to herself as she found that there weren't any other type of bed clothes so she would be forced to wear the flirtatious piece of lingerie that practically screamed 'fuck me' or be forced to sleep in the dirty clothes she was currently wearing. Neither of these options were particularly appealing but she would have to weigh up which were the lesser of two evils. The latter option, sleeping her itchy grim filled and bloody clothes was an option that she found really quite revolting as all she wanted to do was be free of the things and never see them again. If she could she would strip of the things, shower and then set the offensive clothes on fire to rid herself of them permanently of them. This left here with the first option, the skimpy little nightgown. The thought of just what Lecter would do to her if she wore that thing to bed made all the blood rush to her face in a violent blush.
"Is everything alright, my dear Clarice?" Lecter asked the words 'my dear' causing a deepening of the blush in Clarice's cheeks.
"Yes everything is fine Doctor I'm just a little warm that's all. I think I will go get a glass of water" she said rather stiffly before marching off into the bathroom. Not that she could get a glass of water if she wanted, what came out of the tap could hardly be described as water. It was cloudy, brown and has pieces of what she hoped to god was rust floating in it. She would catch a disease the second her lips touched the glass so she poured the horrifying liquid back down the sink and returned defeated.
"The water here is bad, I guess having any type of drink is out of the question" she said sourly more to herself than the Doctor as she exited the bathroom.
"Not exactly" Lecter said with a lizard like smile. "I happen to have a very nice vintage of cognac that I think you would enjoy and it is certainly better than the filth that seems to constitute water in this particular establishment. So what do you say then Clarice, can I tempt you into a glass or two?" he asked with a purr.
She hesitated for a moment weighing up the options in her head but her parched throat won the internal argument "What the hell, what harm could a drink do. Besides a drink would do you good as well take you mind off some of that pain you are in, you can mask it as much as you want but you can't hid it from me Doctor. You were just stabbed in the leg and all" she said sounding like the voice of reasoning.
Doctor Lecter fixed her with a frown for a moment before she shrugged "You're right" he admitted before he went to fetch the bottle of cognac from his suitcase along with two glasses. Pouring the rich amber liquid into the glass tumblers he handed Clarice the one with a more generous helping and watched with a smile as she took a gulp of the warming liquid.
After all, what harm could a drink do.
Down a road winding, through the foot hills of Kiyokawa at dusk, a young man drove his car with frightening speed. He knew these roads all too well. The ability to which he shifted the vehicle in gear was smooth and seamless. The young man arrived at his destination, an old and traditional, Shinto shrine; out of use and bought up by the very woman who now resided there. He exited his car, taller then most Asians and averaging the same height as any European descendant. One hand brushed through his short trimmed hair as he reached the Torii at bottom of the stairs. His lean legs powered him up swiftly until he reached the top.
The young man jogged down the Sandō pathway and around the Haiden to the main entrance of the Honden also known as the main hall. He entered the main building and removed his shoes before venturing farther in. The guts of the shrine had been redesigned to feel more like a home and less of a place for worship. The young man traveled down the corridors and stopped at the opening of a kitchen; where he found the owner of the home.
"My lady." He bowed deeply to her.
"Kenji... I was not expecting you to show up so soon." She said without turning to greet him but waved her hand to a near by seat.
"I'm sorry for the unexpected visit. But I thought it would be better to see you rather than over the phone." He entered the kitchen and sat down, watching her arrange a vase of flower. She did not reply so he continued on, "Takashi and Yuu haven't reported in, there was a report of two Asian men murdered not far from where we suspected Lecter was hiding. The last call we received was that Lecter dropped the woman off. We assumed he was leaving her behind but I suspect he went back for her." One hand rubbed at his temple, "It seems off for him to move like that. I've been tracking him and studied his M.O. He never double backs, except…" He trailed off as he watched her nimble fingers gingerly placed each unique flower in the arrangement.
"When you are dealing with a man, like Hannibal Lecter, you should never assume. That was a mistake and must not be forgotten."
"Yes, my lady."
"He will want to leave Canada and soon. Check all small aircraft airstrips for flights to Europe over the next 72 hours, and have someone else maintain an eye on any passenger ships as well." She finished the floral arrangement as the sun dissipated over the horizon. Kenji stood and bowed deeply to her once more before leaving her in the darkened kitchen.