Starling awoke
to the sound of the engine roaring to a stop. The first thing she was aware of was an intense tightening in her
shoulder blades, and severe pain shooting through her arms. It took an expected minute for the
recollection to sweep in, and when it did, she lurched forward in newfound
alertness.
The still
passenger next to her did not so much as flicker in interest, much less
surprise at her crude awakening. Instead, he sat back and unbuckled the seat belt before reaching across
to assist with hers. When his skin
brushed her arm, she reacted to the touch as though burnt. Dr. Lecter arched an eyebrow, yet still
offered no words. He helped himself to
his feet and made the trip around the car to gentlemanly open her door for her.
Resisting only a
minute, Starling climbed out, hoping her gaze shot daggers. However, she knew on some level that her
coldness would go ignored, at least for now. He expected it, given recent developments, and had no reason to show
surprise.
It was still
dark. Starling did not know how long
she slept, but knew it couldn't have been more than an hour or so. While she didn't expect time to flow
accurately in this state of dementia, she was hoping there was something to
rely on.
Against the
evening sky stood a rather large house, modestly proportioned. Though she could make out little detail, it
was easy to tell this place was lovely. It had Dr. Lecter written all over it. Large, undoubtedly elegant, fit to suit all of his needs, whatever they
might be. She found herself wondering
how he killed the previous owner.
"Here, Clarice,"
Dr. Lecter said softly, startling her, as though she forgot he was standing
there. When she turned to receive his
gaze, it left her mind to be cold, or even angered. Now, all she knew was she was tired, perversely more so after her
nap. Sleeping in cars was never really
her thing, and all she wanted to do at the moment was get rest.
Was it possible
to get rest? Knowing where she was,
whom she was with, that she was likely being held hostage? Certainly not.
Dr. Lecter
reached for her cuffed hands and slowly unworked the lock. Starling waited to hear them clank to the
ground so she could dive for them, but knew somewhere he would never allow
himself to exhibit such clumsiness.
But then it
didn't matter. Her arms, tired and sore
from long confinement, reveled in newfound liberty, stretching
luxuriously. Then she remembered
herself, and turned with sudden anger to Dr. Lecter, visibly prepared to pounce
and wrestle him for the rights to her freedom. He stopped her by raising his Harpy in silent reminder of his prior
threat, however empty she still believed it to be.
Starling
dejectedly settled to rekindle her cold stare, and caught the hint of amusement
in his eyes as he tucked the Harpy out of sight, but never out of reach.
"I wonder how
you intend on keeping me here," she snapped. "Got any rope, Dr. Lecter?"
"Certainly not,"
he scoffed in reply, as though insulted by the suggestion. "No, Clarice, I permit you grounds to walk
freely among my current residence. You
are my guest, of course. I do hope
you'll see it that way."
A growl arose in
the back of her throat, and she *felt* her eyes darken. "Dr. Lecter, it's rather inconceivable to
believe I'm your guest when you cuffed me and forced me to tag along." Her
voice hinted the release of some of the ice storm. There was a genuine question now, a question she hesitated to ask
for fear of the answer, yet had to all the same. "Why bring me along at all? You could have cuffed me and left."
There was a sigh
in reply as Dr. Lecter tilted his head slightly to study her. She wondered if he was thinking up an
answer, but knew the better of that. If
there was an applicable reply, he knew it already, and had kept it in
preparation for this question. When he
drew in again, she sensed a suggestion of preamble. "Well," he said, "the first rule in the Fugitive's Handbook
always advised you carry a hostage. You
just happened to be a fortunate coincidence."
Starling
couldn't help her snicker. "Lucky me,"
she drawled.
"Mmm…I was
hoping you'd say that."
"Doctor—"
"The second
reason was I decided to bring you along was it would have been terribly rude to
leave you there, handcuffed and susceptible to mice and whatever rodents tend
to lurk in abandoned stockrooms." Hmm…perhaps it wasn't a preamble after all, though she didn't entirely
accept that second explanation as a valid reason. Of course, this man needed no justification. He did what he wanted with no fear of the consequences.
A short silence
followed. Very short silence.
"Dr. Lecter…how
do you expect to keep me here, without constraints? You know the first thing I'll do is—"
"I may be
getting old, Clarice, but I have learned not to repeat my mistakes. You'll find all lines of communication have
safely been discontinued." As he spoke,
Dr. Lecter offered her a smile that made her want to smack him. "No computers or laptops, phones or pagers.
I'm afraid you're stuck here, isolated. With me."
Starling felt as
though someone had wrapped their hand around her throat and severed her air supply. He smiled at her reaction and nodded as last
confirmation. "Afraid, so,
Clarice. When I learned you were
reassigned to my case, I knew some precautions had to be taken…just in case you
should find your way here. Though I
admit it has been rather tedious to resort to public libraries to study the
FBI's ever dull public website, they really are convenient, should you want to
elude technology.
"As for your
weapons, I will safely dispose of them tonight. Wouldn't want you to get any ideas." Dr. Lecter broke gaze then and turned back to the manor. "Lovely, isn't it? I believe it was constructed during British colonization, though
I admit I haven't had time to do any ample studying. The mornings here are lovely."
Something
crashed to the left of her, and Starling's attention jerked again. She realized it was the ocean water hitting
the coast, and wondered how she missed it upon arrival. It then occurred to her that with everything
that had developed this evening, minor details such as location, especially
with all contact confiscated, meant very little.
She wondered how
far they were from Beijing. Not too
far, notably. A comfortable drive away,
something close enough to satisfy the doctor without wearing on his patience.
"Did you just up
and buy the place?" she asked a minute later, the everydayness of her question
stinging her ears, though she made no move to retract.
"And provide a
substantial lead for you fortune seekers?" Dr. Lecter replied, his tone
somewhere between teasing and serious. "Hardly, Clarice, I thought for sure Reuben Tow was enough attention for
you."
"Then where is
the owner?"
"Quite dead, I
assure you."
Starling felt
herself numb, then tingle with a rush of triumph. In her orders to the men just yesterday, she told them to keep a
lookout for the murders of wealthy landowners. Perhaps there was some cause for optimism yet.
As if sensing
her hopeful thoughts and feeling determined to bring her down once more, Dr.
Lecter intervened. "I admit, Clarice, I
thought it might be thirsty work…finding a man with no heirs, or living
relatives of any kind. But don't you
think his death might have been reported to your friends at the FBI, if someone
had come by to look for him? There were
some clues I refused to leave for you."
That riled her
attention. "Clues? What do you mean?"
An air of
agitation passed, a rare sight. She
remembered seeing it the night of Paul Krendler's lobotomy. It was merely a glance, but that glance was
enough. A few seconds of thought
reminded her what provoked it – she offered to give him information from his
profiles. His reply was irritated, and
though she couldn't recall everything he said, the words 'greasy coin' came to
mind.
"Honestly,
Clarice, I thought you to be more perceptive than this."
"Are you telling
me you did all this to *draw* me here?" Anger replaced disbelief, anger and blunt shock at his forwardness.
"I am telling
you nothing, though I do trust you to come to your own conclusions. What I say really means little in the end,
for you'll believe what you want to believe." Dr. Lecter took a minute to exert a breath, his eyes falling again to
the mansion. "I suspect you'll want to
sleep in. Understandable…you've had a
rough few days."
"This isn't
exactly the dream getaway vacation I imagined, Dr. Lecter."
"I know, but
it's all I can offer right now, Special Agent Starling." The formality tagged to the end of his
dialogue made her shiver with a sense of discredit. That's who she was, wasn't it? It was who she allowed herself to believe she was.
Somehow, hearing
it here, in the dead of night on the Asian continent, spoken by her newfound
vanquisher, Starling felt herself unworthy of the title. After all, would a *real* special agent
allow this to happen? She thought
not. A real special agent would have
killed Dr. Lecter by now, whether at the lake house, or at the opera, or in the
dark halls of the warehouse.
Well, she
couldn't say that for sure, but she knew they would have tried.
"Are you quite
ready, Clarice?" he asked casually.
"It doesn't look
like I have much of a choice, now does it?" she scoffed in reply.
Smiling quaintly
to himself, Dr. Lecter seized Starling's right arm and began the slow march
inward. "I suppose not," he
complied. Had the situation differed,
she could have sworn his voice conceded something of defeat.
Like the
warehouse before it, Starling found companionable warmth inside the manor. It was menacingly dark, though when Dr.
Lecter switched on a lamp, her eyes flinched. After adjusting, she blinked a few times and took a good long look
around.
It was a lovely
home. Absolutely lovely. Decorated with the finest antique furniture,
some British, some Chinese. Though
Starling was a tad uneducated on her Asian history, she sensed an abundance of
both cultural upbringings here, as well as a set of advised influences. She wondered if the décor had changed at all
in the past hundred years, though everything was obsessively cleaned.
There were no
modern conveniences in this house, besides indoor plumbing and
electricity.
"Do you want the
grand tour, or shall I wait until tomorrow?"
Without
considering, Starling shook her head.
"Are you
sure? Suppose you awake and need
something? Wouldn't want to risk you
running about in the darkness."
There was a
passive note to the end of Dr. Lecter's voice that nearly drove her off the
edge. A witty retort was ready on her
tongue, but then she considered and thought the better of it. Perhaps it was for the best that she know
her way around. After all, once the
territory was memorized, the better to plan her escape…
That thought was
near ridiculous. How did she plan on
getting away? He had her car keys and
she had no idea how far from civilization they were, from any form of contact.
Dr. Lecter
smiled, as though reading her thoughts. "Afraid so, Clarice. I doubt
you'll want to try to go anywhere without me."
Aggravation
overcame her, and Starling stomped her foot down in a reluctant
demonstration. "Why are you doing this
to me?" she demanded. By this time, the
fight had abandoned her voice, leaving her to sound frightened and distressed.
"Is that defeat
I hear, Agent Starling? So soon? I don't know whether to be inspired or
disappointed. After all, I anticipated
you would put up a more illustrative fight," Dr. Lecter noted pointedly, his
tone neither pleasant nor unpleasant.
She arched a
brow. "Oh, I'll put up a fight. But not tonight…" In truth, Starling felt up
to a few more rounds if only she weren't so tired.
"The tour,
then?"
"Do I have a
choice?"
"I would like to
think so, and I'm sure you would, too. However, I suppose it's easier for you to disagree with me on everything
at the minute, therefore to ease your conscience, I'll make it mandatory." Dr. Lecter offered his arm, ever the
gentlemen. "Shall we?"
She stared at
him for a long minute, then his offered arm, before shaking her head in
rejection. "I can walk by myself, thank
you."
The reply came
in the form of a disapproving air. "Give me your arm, Clarice."
"I said—"
"Lest I remind
you, this is obligatory." At that, he
flashed a smile that made her want to gnash her teeth. "Your arm?"
When she refused
to obey, Dr. Lecter's eyes glittered with a spark of impatience. Abruptly, he seized her by the forearm and
clocked them together at the elbows. Starling stumbled against his strength, but made no move to retract her
appendage. To do so was redundant, and
would do little more than waste time.
"Ah," Dr. Lecter
piped, as though the breech in fortitude never occurred. "That's better, wouldn't you agree? Yessss…this way, if you don't mind." Without awaiting her reply, he started,
almost jerking her off her feet again until she settled at a comfortable pace
beside him.
Not one inch of
the manor went unexplored. The kitchen,
the various lavatories, the guest rooms, the parlors, the storm shelter, the
dining room, even the entry closets, should she get cold and want a jacket, he
said. Intentionally, he announced the
two last stops as the bedrooms they would separately occupy.
"Now then," he
said, slowly withdrawing his grasp on her arm to push the door to his chamber
open. "This is where I sleep, more or less. For reasons of your convenience, I'll leave the door open. You, my dear…" Unexpectedly, he seized her
arm again and led her a short distance down the hall. "I believe you'll find this comfortable. I did not choose randomly. This is one of the better rooms."
"And pure
coincidence, I'm sure, that it's just down the hall from yours."
At that, he
smiled again. "Of course."
A beat of
silence settled between them. The
hallway was dark, and in the early stirrings of morning, the only sound she
could hear – aside from her pounding heart – was Dr. Lecter's steady breaths,
ricocheting hotly off her face. Approached with the urge to flinch, she decided against it, instead
omitting a deep breath of her own.
"Well," he said
at last, releasing her from the nook of his arm to gently apply pressure to her
back, encouraging her enter. "You've
had a busy day, and I'm sure you're exhausted. I won't disturb you in the morning, though I will be sure to have a
fantastic breakfast prepared." His eyes
sparkled at that, a subtle reminder of their last meal together. Starling rolled her shoulders to fight back
the shudder. Noting this, Dr. Lecter
released an appreciative chuckle. "It
will more enjoyable than our last. For you, at least. I promise."
Starling turned
to him, standing now in the dark of her room. Once again, she let out a trembling breath, her eyes widening with
either the impact of realization or the fear of it.
Dr. Lecter did
not react to her gaze. Instead, he
smoothly grasped the brass handle, pulling the door closed. "Goodnight, Clarice. Pleasant dreams."
Though the hallway was dark, the room seemed to lose more light as Dr. Lecter's face disappeared to the other side of the barrier.
Shut.
Darkness.
She was
alone.
* * *