Chapter 16: Well... mostly yours.
Margot stopped mid-stride when the burner cell phone unexpectedly began to vibrate in her hand. Looking at the glowing screen she could see it was another number from Italy calling her. She frowned perplexed. Per their arrangement the money had been released from escrow as soon as Hannibal and Will had been secured on the cargo plane and it had taken flight. Their delivery was imminently due to arrive later this afternoon. The Italians had their money and the captured men were far out of their jurisdiction so Margot could find little reason for them to be contacting her at present, which did not bode well. She answered the phone brusquely, "Pronto."
"Margot Verger I presume?" A man said in English with an American accent, an accent she quickly recognized.
"Agent Crawford, it's good to hear from you." She greeted him pleasantly.
"Is it?" He sounded doubtfully now. "I'd assume you'd be surprised to hear from me since I got this phone and number from a dead man."
"Surprised but none the less pleased." Margot replied lightly as she leaned her back against the wall, though it felt as though she were collapsing against it. Her tone was calm and unaffected but her heart palpitated rapidly in her chest. It hadn't sat well with her that they would have to allow the FBI director to be killed and yet it seemed unavoidable. The relief that bubbled up from learning he'd survived Italy quickly deflated however as the reality of the situation sunk in her stomach. Alana was right, it would be better for them if he were dead.
"And how will your brother feel?" Jack prodded.
She pretended to think. "Mmm, less than pleased."
"It's not too late to stop this Miss Verger." He told her abrupt and serious.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean Agent Crawford." She retorted carelessly.
"The Italians are not subtle people. I saw them take Hannibal and Will. I know they are headed to Muskrat Farms."
"If that's true and I see them on the property then I'll of course alert the authorities immediately Agent Crawford." She stated sardonically.
His voice was deep with disappointment and full of self-righteous warning. "I know you've been a victim of Hannibal, and a victim of your brother, but you can rise above them. Don't end up on the wrong side in this Ms. Verger."
"You think Hannibal and Mason are the only two playing in the game." Margot's indignation rose like hackles on a furious cat. She hissed angrily at him. "I'm not a victim. I'm not on my brother's side. I'm playing for myself and I've got my back covered. Can you say the same Agent Crawford?"
There was a pause on the other line until he sighed, "Then consider this a courteous call. I'm getting out of Italy and I'll be seeing you very soon."
"We'll see about that." Margot said then hung up. Crossing her arms over her stomach, she tilted her head and let her eyes fall shut as she breathed in deeply through her nose. She held in the breath; her toe tapped agitatedly against dark mahogany boards under her feet. Margot stood there for as long as she could keep her breath in until she had to let it go, the air escaping from her lungs like a dying exhalation. But she took breath, then another and another. Finally she pushed herself off the wall and dropped the phone onto hard floor, stamping her heel down onto it a few times so the glass shattered and the metal twisted under her fury. When she picked up the pieces, there were scratches and nicks on the fine polished wood. The heiress tucked an errant strand on hair behind her ear and resumed her path down the hall with elegant composure.
As she approached Mason's bedroom she could hear him talking indistinctly, his croaking voice sounded pleased and content for the moment. An armed guard stood outside the door and she lobbed the wrecked electronic at him which he barely caught in time.
"Dispose of this." She ordered, not waiting for him to give her any affirmation, then stopped just before entering to listen to Mason while he gloated.
"Sad news about Jack Crawford. Appears Hannibal Lecter killed him in Florence. I hope there is some satisfaction in being the final victim of the Chesapeake Ripper. There will certainly be some notoriety." It sounded like he were rehearsing a speech for whomever may ask his opinion on the deceased, though not-really-deceased agent's violent ending. She supposed there would be some satisfaction in breaking the news to her smug brother.
She strode into the room as if she'd never broken her pace. Mason's bedroom had been her father's room and had not changed much since the elder Verger had inhabited it. The dark wooden walls were imported from pines in the Black Forest and red Chenille drapes dripped grimly around the room so it felt as if the room were pressing forebodingly around you. The squat, broad dresser and closets still held the same clothing Molson had wore since the father and son were of similar stature. Mason had simply stepped into his father's role seamlessly in all things, as head of the family, as CEO of the corporation, and as her tormentor. The only change that had been instated was the garish aquatic tank her brother had installed in the floor at the foot of his bed where his prized Moray eel lived, the animal relentlessly swimming back and forth across its length. When Margot entered Mason was sat up against the gothic headboard still in his gaudy gold and black striped pajamas and Alana seated primly in a chair a few feet from the base of his bed absentmindedly listening while her brother held court. The shadow of the eel slithered over Mason's face. She declared with dry exasperation as she sauntered through, her black skirt swinging around her knees, "The feces are flying again in Florence."
Then with a beat for dramatic effect as Mason and Alana turned their attention to her, Margot leaned her forearm against the low white and black marbled mantle of a fireplace. "Jack Crawford is alive."
Her statement hung in space briefly. Alana blinked a couple times at the information though didn't flinch but the joy Mason had exhibited withered away. He seemed to pout petulantly behind his scars, "Well that's disappointing."
Surprised her brother didn't react with his usual spewing, snarling anger Margot went on to impress upon him the gravity of the situation. "He saw the snatch."
"I trust you haven't betrayed doctor-patient confidentiality, Dr. 'loom." Mason's head flopped to the side to better look at the doctor, his demeanor still frustratingly collected.
"Your trust hasn't been misplaced." Alana said calmly which was true for the time being.
"The FBI is going to catch the first squeal on the kidnapping." Margot asserted moving to stand at the foot of his bed.
"I've been registering complaints with the local authorities, the sheriff, the U.S. Attorney's Office that Jack Crawford has been harassing me, calling me late at night with incoherent threats." He revealed his surreptitious contingency plan, explaining his unperturbed attitude.
"Of course he can't prove he didn't." Alana quickly caught onto his scheme as well.
"And it muddies the water."
Mason and his goddamn muddy water, his bloody water, Margot thought ruefully as she said, "Now you can head off a warrant."
"There will be no warrant and there will be no warrant forthcoming." He declared confidently, back to being pleased with himself. Keeping the law officials at bay worked in their favor for now when they needed the time but eventually they would need the FBI to storm the castle. Unfortunately Mason had made it virtually impenetrable.
Alana spoke up with candidness, "I appreciate wanting to kill Hannibal Lecter and I'm not without benefit from that."
Her gaze swung from Mason to Margot. The heiress felt pinned down by the blue eyes that looked at her for a moment too long with a little too much tenderness. The women were exceedingly careful of their interactions around her brother but Alana let her guard slip for a second and then another with Margot simultaneous wanting it to end and go on forever. Then the cool mask of professionalism fell back into place and anticlimactically it was like it had never happened. She released a breath she had not realized she'd been holding in and directed her sight to her brother.
"He can't make good on his promise to murder you if he's dead, now can he?" Mason sneered at the doctor.
"But he's not dead." Alana said pointedly. "Play with your food Mason and you give it the opportunity to bite back."
Margot carefully watched Alana as she glared at Mason. Alana looked sharper in the past few days; sharp words, sharp suits, sharp looks, even her bones seemed sharper, her cheekbones and collarbones and ribs protruded more from her pale skin, significantly so that Margot could feel them cutting into her when her body was pressed against her own. Alana seemed honed into a fine, dangerous line ready to slice whatever crossed her path.
"Oh I'm not playing Dr. 'loom." He said lowly.
"Hannibal is. He's always playing." Her words were like a knife to Mason's throat.
"Your concerns have been noted Doctor." The male Verger patronized her then quickly turned cheery saying, "I'm ready for breakfast. I suddenly have a real craving for bacon."
Alana took up her cane and rose from the chair taking his words as her dismissal. Margot gladly made her way to leave as well, "I'll send for Cordell."
"No." Mason's words stopped both women in their tracks. "Cordell is busy with preparations for our guests. Margot you stay, help me into my robe and slippers."
Margot barely resisted the urge to shudder, nearly walking away without a word. But she steeled herself. Mason wanted to exert his little power play and she would oblige him for the time being. His greatest wish, besides achieving his vengeance on Hannibal, was for Margot to still be fearfully under his control. But she refused to be cowed any longer as she ended their little stalemate and went to retrieve his robe from the closet without compliant. Alana continued her way out, murmuring, "I'll be in my quarters."
"Don't forget my slippers." Mason called to her.
She'd helped the paralyzed man dress before and would compare the experience to handling a snake; scaly, dry, revolting, and one had to watch out for the head. The siblings were silent as Margot shifted his heavy, useless limbs, maneuvering her brother into his robe then pulling him to the edge of the bed to hoist him into his wheelchair. It took some doing, and she considered dropping him on purpose but managed to abstain. Finally she was kneeling by his feet to put on his slippers when Mason announced thoughtfully, "I think I might feed the eel some delicacy of Lecter, his genitals, perhaps."
Margot rolled her eyes at his crude, over-done musing. However his next question made her heart stop entirely, "How long have you and Dr. 'loom been an item?"
In a flash her thoughts went wild for a brief, blinding moment as the worst case scenarios played out in her mind. Her impulse said that Mason had separated them on purpose and she needed to find Alana to make sure she was safe. But then no, he couldn't risk employing his normal tricks on someone like Dr. Bloom who had some repute in the world. When had her brother found out? Alana had pushed her into being more open, but it had been within reason. They hadn't entirely thrown caution to the wind, so at what point had they revealed too much? She remembered the look Alana had given her just moments ago and wondered how many times they'd subconsciously gazed at each other like that with a hint of warmth or affection or lust that would have given them away. Suddenly Margot acutely felt the weight of her necklace, the golden starfish tucked resolutely under her golden blouse. She swallowed the panic, offering him a shrugging answer, "Not long."
"Longer than that, Cordell says. I'll admit it took me longer to catch on than it should have. You've been very sneaky, Margot." He playfully scolded then asked sinisterly, "Tell me, does Dr. 'loom want children? I'm sure you've had a chance to check under the hood by now. How's the uterus, intact? Are the hips childbearing? Roomy?"
She could feel her brother building up to something. Despite her stomach churning she said drolly, "Land the plane, Mason."
"Oh you've got a big surprise coming to you, Margot. Would it spoil anything for you if I told you I've already found us a surrogate? And not for my sperm but for your eggs." He cruelly reminded her of what she'd lost to him. She had to turn away from him, feeling the sting to deeply.
"I don't have any. You took them." His sister stated with true weariness.
"I most certainly did but I didn't Humpty Dumpty them I just went and found them a new basket." As he spoke her stomach sunk further and further like he were dropping stones into her as his meaning dawned on her. Margot spun back slowly with mounting horror. Mason continued to gleefully extrapolate on his dealings. "I told you I wanted to give you a Verger baby, our own baby. Yours and mine. Well... mostly yours."
Mostly yours. It sounded like a threat.
"Where's the surrogate, Mason?" Her words trembled.
"She's resting at the moment." He said coyly.
Disbelieving, her voice cracked a little, "She's here?"
"She's on the farm." He remained vague and she choked back a scream.
"I want to see her." She demanded roughly.
However Mason only demurred, "Well, first I think you need to prepare yourself psychologically. I mean this is going to be a very emotional experience for you, Margot. I have to think about appropriate timing."
She moved forward, almost staggering. Her muscles were rigid making her movements jerky and wooden. Plucking up the tray to his custom chair, Margot shoved it harshly, menacingly into place. "Don't think too long, smiley."
"Oh!" Mason never broke eye contact with her, exclaiming with elation, "That's the spirit, Margot. Your maternal instinct is revving up. I love it."
He managed to twitchily drop his hand over Margot's, smacking it against her skin like a fish out of water. She pulled herself away in disgust though met her brother's unwavering stare with unyielding, cold eyes while she back out of the room.
Then she turned on her heel and flew down the hall, unseeing and raging like a billowing storm. It all became clear to her now. Mason taking and destroying her ability to have children would never have been enough to sate his need to watch her suffer; this was the true nightmare he had envisioned for her. Her legs carried her without thought across the mansion to the rooms where she knew Alana would be. She barreled into the room. The solid oak door banged against the wall and rattled on its hinges. Alana had been sitting at the desk writing but now she jumped at the unexpected racket, her eyes wide with shock at her entrance. Margot slammed the door behind her and Alana shot up from her chair and asked urgently, "What's happened?"
She could only stand in the middle of the room with her hand clenched tightly into fists at her sides, quivering with the pent up fury and an inkling of fear. The blood in her veins rushed and hummed with ferocity that desperately needed released. Alana was standing before her now with questioning concern, "Margot?"
Suddenly she grabbed the shorter woman, holding her furiously tight and clashing their lips together. On her part, Alana gracefully fell into the messy embrace, her hands gripping into Margot's shoulders for support and readily moaning for her. She can feel her aggression leaking into her affections towards Alana; the desire to use force, to draw blood to the surface roiled inside her. But she couldn't allow herself. Gradually the heiress consciously began to loosen her hold and slowed down her pace to a steady rhythm in attempts to soothe the wild beast of anger within.
But then Alana shoved her away. Margot looked at her with confusion but Alana's blue eyes glinted at her purposefully, "I'm not fragile. I won't break."
Margot furrowed her brow and ripped her hands away, "I don't want to hurt you."
"I don't think you could." She said challengingly and pushed her once more.
The anger in her spiked again.
"Alana, don't." Her voice was low with warning.
"I can take whatever you have to give." Alana whispered honestly. "I trust you."
So Margot gave. And Alana welcomed the brutal pace that she set for them, kissing hard enough until she tasted copper and was deprived of oxygen.
With their sex in the past Margot refrained from some of her baser instincts, not that it had made their usual earnest passions and unrelenting hunger for one another any less gratifying. But as she dug her fingers into Alana's hips and then tossed her haphazardly towards the bed, ordering her to strip, Margot felt the dangerous thrill of power entwined with her as arousal, watching the doctor prettily comply with her demand. And when Alana ignored her instructions to stop touching herself, Margot found even more twisted delight in making her stop as she gather the other woman's wrists in one of her hand and pinned them to the mattress above her head and she took over touching the writhing body beneath her.
Margot took Alana who flushed and moaned under her arduous ministrations, letting herself be flipped over onto her hands and knees. She cried out Margot's name when she bit into her shoulders, the pale skin blossoming with lovely reds and purples, and shuddered when Margot finally slid her fingers to the heavy wetness between her legs, roughly pushing inside her. The Verger thrust into her and thrust herself onto the brunette's backside, seeking her own release, and when she was close she thread her fingers through Alana's thick hair and tugged until she clumsily forced their lips together. She came rigidly, shallowly against her just in time as Alana collapsed onto her stomach, her own orgasm quaking through her.
Margot fell onto her side next to Alana, observing the other woman whose face was partially buried into the pillows. Her blue eyes were sealed shut and sweat beaded lightly at her hairline and her cheeks were pleasantly pink. Margot worried for a moment, gently running her finger down the doctors back over the bruised skin she'd created. The corner of Alana's mouth twitched though in a faint smile and her mind snapped into a strange quietness she was unaccustomed to as she continued to run her fingers over her skin, thinking it quite beautiful, like burgundy rose petals embedded into her.