You see what power is- holding someone else's fear in your hand and showing it to them.
-Amy Tan
*****
Three murders, three young women butchered, the sweetbreads and liver removed from all. Lungs pulled out through the back in the Norse sacrificial custom of Bloody Eagle. The one person who has committed a murder like this before is completely innocent. It was all too much as Emily lay her head on the pillow, feeling the cool fabric against her cheek. Above all, she was the one the police from three different cities were counting on to give an accurate picture of the person committing these crimes. They wanted reason where there wasn't one, they wanted answers where there weren't any. Rolling over, she looks at the sleeping form of her husband, black against the pale moonlight. More aggravating is the woman, Dr. Alexandra Fell, who has taken a profound interest in her husband. Emily reminded herself that she was not being overly protective of her family, but that the woman in all actuality was getting a little close for comfort. Anger and confusion swirled about her as she retreated deep into her palace, seeking solace in the quiet halls. She found it momentarily.
*****
Screams. Everywhere in her ears. Loud and harsh, drowning out the own screams falling from her lips. Her eyes roam the room she is trapped in, no walls or ceiling, but thick metal bars. Cold black iron, trapping her effectively in the terrifying sounds. She reaches out to the door, finding it locked fast, preventing her escape. A beautiful parquet floor is beneath her feet, and she falls to it, grasping the bars of the cage. She feels something wet and slick under her fingers, under her legs. She pulls her hand form the iron bars, seeing blood, dark and rich, dripping from her fingertips. Blood everywhere around her, the metallic tang filling the air already heavy with the screams. Hair falls into her face and she brushes it back with a bloody hand, smearing it across the welts on her cheek. Welts from her mother. The deep scratches left from her last visit. She throws her head back, wincing from the pain. A voice cuts through the screams. She knows the voice, and turns in its direction. Clarice Starling stands outside the bars, looking much younger than when Emily last saw her. She is leading a horse and carrying a lamb in her arms. She is trying to save the lamb, but it is already too late. Blood mars the white fleece, bringing tears to young Clarice's eyes.
"I couldn't save the lambs, Emmie. I couldn't save them." she looks around the room, taking in the flows of blood that are tracing across the parquet. "Tell him I'm sorry, Emmie. Tell him that I couldn't save the lambs to make them stop screaming." The dead lamb falls from Clarice Starling's arms into a deep pit that has opened in the blood before her. Emily scrambles to her feet, trying to gain traction on the slick surface. Hand outstretched she opens her mouth to call to the girl, but finds she has no voice. Clarice disappears, as if she were never there in the first place. With that, the screams stop. She hears a tape player turn on and the volume being turned up. Glenn Gould, the Goldberg Variations. She is in a corner of the cage, watching now as Dr. Hannibal Lecter savagely attacks a police officer, biting into his face and shaking it like an enraged terrier. He takes the baton from the man, driving it into him and dropping him to his knees before he turns to the second officer, the one handcuffed in the cage. He notices Emily cowering in her corner for the first time. He extends the baton to her and she knows what he wants her to do. She cannot move though, as she watches his face change into that of a dark shadow. The shadow that she is dogging through the night. The transformed Dr. Lecter turns away and delivers five judicious blows to the officer cowering below him before turning and delivering another to the first officer. A cruel smile is the only visible thing in the shadows face as it turns back to her, baton raised high in the air.
"Your turn, Emily." it says in the voice of Dr. Alexandra Fell. Emily finally emits a scream as the baton crashes down against her skull.
"Nooooo!"
*****
Sheets are twisted around her as she bolts upright, screaming and face twisted in pain. Hannibal Lecter is instantly awake and reaching out to his wife. Her skin is soaked with sweat, and her nightgown clings to her, revealing her form. His hands encircle her arms pulling her to him as gently as he can. Her eyes fly open and she locks onto his, seeking him. The scream dies from her lips and she sags against him. Sweat and tears pour from her face as she clings to him, completely unaware that it is the same body that just attacked her in her dream, if not the same man. Half choked sobs disturb the night air, and Hannibal hugs the shaking body to him, whispering soothingly in her ears. Mischa's cries echo thinly into the room where her parents cling to each other, she will have to wait.
*****
Blood has a very unique look in the moonlight. It is rich and black, unlike the red under normal light, but still retains that distinctive sheen. She looks at it on her hands, holding them in the moonlight as if she were examining a delicate ring on her finger. Victim number four lays at her feet, blood pooling on the concrete of the pier. There were no patrols tonight, so she was able to return to the Berkley Pier. A final and dramatic statement to him. She bends and hefts the body to its limp feet. It is difficult to hold a dead person and tie them up at the same time, but she accomplishes it with a slight degree of difficulty. The body of the young woman now hangs on the slats at the end of the pier. Her body hangs there, blood still leaking from her ravaged body. She is proud of this one, and her shadowed face smiles as she turns to walk down the pier. The Harpy blade she carries is slipped into her pocket as she walks. If she could, she would whistle, but for now, the silence is enough. A laugh escapes her lips as she once again looks at the blood in the moonlight. She pauses at a fish cleaning sink and turns the water on, rinsing the blood from her hands. She can hear it as the water runs down the drain to the bay a few feet below her. She clasps her hands behind her back, walking the rest of the way back to the shore. She is in high spirits as she reaches the car. The rented Mercury turns over quickly as she looks out across the bay. Her lips crack into a grin as she backs it out of the space, cultured voice clear over the engine.
"Your turn, Emily."
*****