Ravenous
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Hannibal Lecter. He belongs to his creator, Mr. Thomas Harris. I'm just borrowing the Good Doctor for a little while. I promise to play nice then put him back right where I found him.
Summary: Based on the film "Hannibal Rising". This takes place two years after the events of the movie. After a stressful residency at John Hopkins University, the Good Doctor decides to take a long needed holiday.
Being a connoisseur of fine wine, he travels west to the lush vineyards of Napa Valley, California. Soon after arriving, he is unexpectedly reunited with someone from his past. Much to his surprise, feelings of longing and desire are rekindled. But as he is getting reacquainted with his lost love, an old foe and rival also comes calling.
With his security in jeopardy, will young Dr. Lecter have to resort his unique culinary talents once more?
A/N: This is my first "Hannibal" fic ever. And I wrote this at the behest of a favorite authoress of mine, Mishka Germash. So please be kind. I do welcome constructive criticism.
Rated M for gore, violence and sexual situations. Hannibal/Lady Murasaki and of course Inspector Popil.
Chapter Twenty-Five
"Why, Dr. Lecter…Madame Lecter, this is a most unexpected, but pleasant surprise! If I had known you were coming, I wouldn't have given Rosita the day off! And you've just missed Guillermo! He went into town to pick up supplies. But do come in, come in!" Exclaimed Jacinta Ortega, proprietress of the San Mateo Vineyard. Nervously yet graciously, she stepped aside to allow her young guests to enter her home.
Hannibal was grateful that fortune decided to smile upon him this day.
So the lady is alone. This will be easier than I thought, but we must act quickly before her husband returns!
Before going into the house, Hannibal turned on his heel and waved at his persistent pursuers who were still sitting inside their vehicle. The officers had parked their unmarked police car just outside the wrought iron gates of the winery.
Lecter was confident that they posed no threat to him at the moment. Besides, he suspected that they had been ordered by their superior to keep up their surveillance at a safe distance. They were to observe but not interfere unless there was imminent danger present.
When he was satisfied that he had taunted lawmen sufficiently, Hannibal turned around to gain entry into the house.
From the moment Hannibal Lecter and his exquisite companion, Lady Murasaki crossed the threshold of Casa Ortega, the handsome young doctor immediately turned on the charm. By swiftly distracting his intended victim, Mrs. Ortega would soon be completely under his control. The success of their spontaneous mission sorely depended upon it.
Without delay Lecter flashed Jacinta a megawatt million-dollar smile that could easily rival that of Clark Gable or Cary Grant's, the box office heart throbs of the day. A glimpse of those perfect white teeth, and Hannibal's boyish good looks was all it took. The poor woman was hooked, line and sinker like unwary trout.
At that moment Dr. Lecter decided to go in for the kill. With noble elegance, Hannibal tenderly took possession one of Jacinta's chubby little hands, carefully encasing it in the warmth of his much larger one.
Blushing furiously, Mrs. Ortega giggled like schoolgirl with a crush as she watched Hannibal raise her hand to his beautifully shaped lips and place a chaste kiss upon it.
A hint of amused malevolence sparkled within those mesmerizing maroon irises, as Hannibal observed Jacinta quickly became putty in his manipulative hands. The older woman was now readily pliable and susceptible to exploitation.
Returning the hand to its rightful owner, Hannibal now used the timbre of his voice to further subdue the lady of the house. Locking his entrancing gaze onto hers, he spoke to Jacinta in mellifluous yet commanding tones, his every word dripping with honey.
"Mrs. Ortega, how good it is to see you again! We just couldn't get enough of your gracious hospitality. So my wife and I decided to pay you a visit to thank you personally for yesterday's tour. I hope you don't mind."
Keeping her stare transfixed on Hannibal's extraordinarily beautiful eyes, Jacinta felt herself fall deeper and deeper into a state of warmth and comfort. Every syllable that Lecter spoke lulled her further and further, as her strength of will was slowly stripped away. Her mind and soul now lay bare and defenseless to Hannibal's machinations.
Jacinta was rendered powerless to resist him.
The world that surrounded her slowly faded out of existence, as the familiar sights and sounds of home fell away. After a very short while all that remained was the peaceful resonance of Dr. Lecter's voice and fiery influence of his all-seeing gaze.
Slowly, Jacinta Ortega shook her head; she was completely under Hannibal's spell. Entranced, her caramel colored eyes were glazed over and as wide as saucers.
And when at last she spoke, her voice contained an almost robotic quality to it. Lady Murasaki, to her own astonishment, could now clearly see that Jacinta had become a hollow and soulless automaton waiting to perform her master's bidding.
"It is good to see you as well, Dr. Lecter. How may I be of service to you?"
Smiling down at the diminutive woman with predatory intent, Dr. Hannibal Lecter whispered his first command.
"Jacinta, I would like you to tell my lovely 'wife' where your nephew's bedroom is."
Unable to take her eyes off of Hannibal's looming face, Jacinta simply lifted her right arm and with a steady finger pointed towards the large staircase that dominated the foyer.
"Upstairs." She said in that far-away voice of hers. "It's the fourth door on the right."
Hannibal couldn't help smirking just a tad. Extracting the required information from this weak-minded woman was like taking candy from a baby.
Quickly with the slightest of hand gestures he motioned for Lady Murasaki to head up the stairs.
The lady promptly obeyed and steadily began her ascent.
However, Murasaki was summarily halted when she heard Jacinta call out, "Wait!"
Carefully, the heiress turned around and worriedly looked at Hannibal. Mrs. Ortega meanwhile reached into the deep, wide pocket of the colorful apron she was presently wearing. Shortly thereafter, Jacinta pulled out a common household key.
"Ramon's room is always locked," she explained in a hollow monotone. "You'll need this to get in."
Hesitantly, Lady Murasaki climbed back down the stairs. Slowly she approached Mrs. Ortega as uncertainty set in. She looked to Hannibal once again for reassurance. His silent nod granted her permission to retrieve the key.
lllll
While her crafty lover kept Mrs. Ortega "entertained" downstairs, Lady Murasaki wasted no time in finding and accessing Ramon Marquez's bedroom. With a quick turn of the key, she carefully opened the door and made her way inside.
Although the sun was shining cheerily outside, the room was cloaked in total darkness. Apparently the curtains had not been draw back yet.
Or perhaps Ramon prefers the gloominess that the shadows provide.
Quickly, Lady Murasaki's hand glided along the wall nearest to the door, blindly searching for a light switch. Soon, she was flooded with relief when her fingers came in contact with the knob. Hastily, Murasaki flipped it on to illuminate the bedchamber.
After her vision had adjusted to the light, her dark eyes scanned her new surroundings. Upon first inspection, she found that the room was surprisingly small and its furnishings were simple yet functional. At its center was a twin-sized bed that was so neatly made, it appeared to have never been slept in.
The hardwood floor was plain with no rugs or other floor coverings upon it.
She noticed a small wooden desk shoved up against one wall with four books piled neatly on top of one another. Additionally, the desktop was adorned with a chipped ceramic coffee mug that contained a half a dozen sharpened number 2 pencils and two gold fountain pens.
Lastly, right smack in the middle of impeccably kept work space was what appeared to be a composition book with its familiar black and white speckled cover.
On the opposite side of the room there were two doors; one led to the closet, the other to an adjoining bathroom.
As Murasaki moved further into the room she observed that aside from two book shelves crammed with what appeared to be scientific journals and medical texts, the rest of the white walls were quite bare.
There were no pictures of any kind, no family photos or other mementos of a life well-lived save one.
No…it's not possible. How did he get his hands on this?
Nailed high above the bed in a rather ornate frame was a black and white photograph of none other than Hannibal.
Murasaki was floored by the unexpected presence of her love's likeness displayed proudly in this young man's room. Then suddenly an overwhelming compulsion to inspect the photograph more closely pushed her body forward.
As she gazed upon the glossy picture encased in behind a thin pane of glass, the lady soon noticed that Hannibal appeared much younger.
The photograph had obviously taken during his days at the French medical school.
And then sudden recognition struck her like thunderbolt.
Of course! How could I have not seen it before? This is the photograph that graced the front page of every French newspaper from Les Echos to Les Monde Diplomatique during those terrible years when Hannibal was Paris' most notorious murder suspect.
But how in the world did Marquez obtain such a pristine and well preserved copy?
Hannibal had not posed for the photo, that much was certain. It had been taken surreptitiously by an unscrupulous photographer one blustery winter morning as he was entering the hallowed halls of Montpellier.
Murasaki couldn't help the swell of pride she felt as she adoringly gazed upon the image of the fresh faced boy she had loved so well.
However, there was no time for reminiscing. Suddenly remembering her mission, Lady Murasaki began her desperate hunt for evidence. She had some idea of what she was looking for, but part of her dreaded finding it.
Pushing her fears aside, the lady searched everywhere she could possibly think of. The bathroom was first. Hastily she rummaged through the medicine cabinet, underneath the basin, and around the claw-foot tub. However, aside from the usual first aid items and toiletries kept in most households, Murasaki found nothing out of the ordinary.
Damn!
Before leaving the bathroom she suddenly became aware of a second door located directly opposite of the one she had just entered from. Deducing that it could possibly lead to an adjoining bedroom, the lady quickly walked up to it and tried to pry it open. But after jingling the handle a couple of times she discovered that it was locked from the other side.
After she exited the washroom, Murasaki attacked the closet next. She inspected it from top to bottom, but it was to no avail. She found nothing of consequence except Ramon's clothes and to her astonishment some rather racy publications depicting young boys and men in several stages of undress performing acts of sadomasochistic bondage on one another.
Disgusting!
Shoving the offending material back into its hiding place, Murasaki quickly closed the closet door. Next she went over to the tiny desk and began to rifle through the pages of the text books.
Again she came up empty.
That's when she decided to open up the composition book. Except, when her eyes fell upon the first page, she suddenly filled with regret.
Every page was covered from margin to margin with the scribblings of a mad man. Words of death and destruction written in block lettering offeneded her eyes. Filthier words, denigrating women were emblazoned across the once white paper in bold red letters.
Cunt, Bitch and Whore screamed out at her, threatening Lady Murasaki's very existence.
Amateurish cartoons were also present. In an obvious fit of passion and rage, Ramon had drawn sick twisted parodies of the magazines she had just seen. She was aghast to find that a knife or some similar sharp object had been substituted for the male member of the agressor. And as she turned the pages of the notebook, she found each new crudely drawn caricature to be more ghastly and bloodier than the last.
Decapitations, castrations and disembowelments were all clearly depicted, boldly outlined by the blood red ink of Ramon's poison pen.
Sickened beyond belief, Lady Murasaki threw the composition book face down onto the desk's hardwood surface with revulsion. Trembling with fear, she stepped away from the desk. Her heart was beating hard against her ribcage as she tried desperately to regulate her erratic breathing.
After a few moments the lady calmed down. Now, more than ever she was determined to find anything that would that would reserve a seat in California's electric chair for that demented bastard Ramon.
Walking over to the small bed, she suddenly bent down. Lifting a corner of the blue and white quilt that lay upon it, the lady took a deep breath before peering underneath the bed. When her eyes could not discern anything due to the darkness, she cautiously reached into the unknown recesses of the space between the mattress and the floor.
Murasaki prayed with all her might that the worse she would encounter would be a dust bunny or two. But when her hand abruptly came into contact with a hard object sheathed in cloth, she was certain that she had found something of significance.
Encircling her slender fingers around the covered item, she cautiously brought it into the light. Sure enough, it appeared to be the size of a Mason jar wrapped up tightly in a torn off piece of an old bed sheet.
And judging from the weight and sloshing sound she heard, Murasaki guessed that it contained a liquid of some sort.
Rising from the hardwood floor holding the cloth covered container with both hands, Murasaki again inhaled deeply trying to steel her resolve.
Warily and with trembling fingers, she began to slowly unwrap the jar. She peeled back layer after layer of tattered cloth, until at last the awful truth was revealed to her horror stricken eyes.
There, floating in the eerily green liquid known as formaldehyde, were four perfectly preserved human fingers and a thumb. Tears of sorrow stung her eyes when she saw that one of the severed digits still had a gold ring snugly placed around its base.
The ring was etched with the insignia of the French Republic Guard, and it became quite clear to Lady Murasaki whose ring it had been.
Oh Pascal, you poor devil!
Closing her eyes, she recalled the day she had given it to him as present. The ring had been a symbol of her friendship and the genuine affection she had felt for the police inspector.
"Taking a stroll down Memory Lane, I see…"
Nearly jumping out of her skin at the sound of another person's voice, Murasaki was forced to whirl around to confront its source.
When she did, a very audible gasp escaped her lips as the Mason jar slipped out of her fingers sending the glass container crashing to the wooden floor below. The jar quickly shattered into a thousand pieces as tiny rivulets of formaldehyde trickled across the floor. The severed appendages were then scattered about unceremoniously like discarded sausages.
Paralyzed by fear, Lady Murasaki could not move as she presently found herself face to face with Ramon Marquez.
The killer that had taken the life of her friend was now only a few feet away from her. Leaning casually against the door that led to the bathroom, his hands were clasped behind him as his dark eyes calmly regarded the intruder of his private sanctuary.
An eternity went by before either of them uttered a word. However, when Ramon started methodically moving towards the woman that was backing away from him, Lady Murasaki suddenly found her voice.
"Hannibal said you were working at the hotel today. H-how did you get in here?" she asked weakly.
Smirking confidently Ramon replied. "I could ask you the same thing. But it doesn't matter now."
Then before Lady Murasaki could react or call for help, Ramon was swiftly upon her. Viciously he pulled her slender body into his arms and crushing the woman against his well toned form.
Immediately, she began to fight him and at one point successfully dragged her long sharp fingernails across the side of Ramon's face.
Despite the nasty bleeding gashes on his cheek, Ramon appeared to be amused by her efforts. Smiling he said, "Well, looks like this kitty has claws. Let's just see how tough you'll be after I spay you, you fucking cunt!"
Murasaki continued to struggle to break free, but Ramon was much stronger than she had anticipated. It didn't take long before he overpowered her.
"Hannibal will kill you slow for this. That I promise you!" Murasaki hissed.
Ramon summarily clapped his left hand over his victim's mouth to prevent her from screaming.
"Be a good girl and shut the fuck up! I'm not interested in what you have to say anyway!" Ramon whispered contemptuously.
Next, he roughly pushed Murasaki up against the desk, and then slammed her back hard onto the desk's flat surface.
With the weight of his body, Ramon kept Murasaski pinned in place as her arms and legs wildly flailed about.
Then to her horrified surprise, Marquez savagely plunged the needle of a syringe he had been concealing behind his back straight into the side of Murasaki's neck.
Although she winced in pain, it didn't take long for the sedative to take effect. With smug satisfaction, Ramon watched as Murasaki's body went limp right before his eyes.
Leaning down next to her ear he whispered mockingly, "Nighty-night, bitch!"