My sincerest thanks to my dear friends Karma and Pepe, who gleefully helped me devise the murder for Allegra Pazzi. Well, Karma did, Pepe just provides the inspiration. Torture is so much fun, dear ones. I do hope you enjoyed the tale. Perhaps there will be another one. Perhaps… I do so want to play with Will Graham. Thank you for your support during this escapade. Enough prattle, on with the tale.
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The raised Harpy glints in the bright glare as he slips up behind Allegra Pazzi. It begins to come down in a swinging arc when Allegra suddenly turns, bringing the scalpel across the good doctor's midriff. Not a deep cut, mind you, just enough to cause him pain. She turns away from Emily, glaring at Hannibal Lecter and issuing a number of curses in her native Italian. He watches her, knowing not to strike until he can make her lose the scalpel. She retreats quickly to the other side of the room, looking in a satchel that sits near the door. She emerges triumphantly with a .45 in her hands, the scalpel having been discarded for her preferred form of weaponry. Quick, she brought the pistol up to bear on him, the front sights centered in the middle of his mass. Dr. Lecter is not a fool and he pauses, considering his options, holding a free hand to the cut she had given him.
"Heh. I still have the upper hand, Dotorre. Now, why don't you have a seat before I have to make this more painful for you?" she motioned with the pistol towards the chair, glaring at him. He was calm, and he could hear her breathing over that of his wife. She took a step towards him, a slight tremor working its way from her hands into the gun. Closer please, closer. Allegra Pazzi, a Pazzi of the Pazzi, did just that, confident now that she had the gun. Firearms did wonderful things for one's self esteem, he reflected. Another step, he had still not moved, and she was within arm's length. A chance, one that might get him shot, but if it could save his wife. The hand with the Harpy knife shoots out, slashing through the air. Allegra jolts backward, just within reach of the tip of the blade. She fires the gun and he drops to his knees, as she falls backwards to the floor, gun spinning across the concrete floor.
He wonders at the absence of pain, and realizes that he has not been hit. He levers himself up, firm grasp on his knife, shock flows through him when he sees Emily. The bullet has struck her, just above her naked right breast. Her breathing is slightly labored, but she remains unconscious, with blood seeping across her chest from both the gunshot wound and the incision Allegra had begun. His eyes glow redder still as he advances on Allegra, who is struggling up from the floor. Swiftly, he grabs her, pulling her to her feet and slamming her back against the stone wall. She can see the pinpricks of red that spin towards the pupils like pinwheels as he leans in close to her.
"That," he hisses, echoing her earlier comment to Emily, "Was rude." Still holding her tight against the wall, he reaches for the bottle of ether that sits on the sink. Working one handed, only glancing away from her briefly, he soaks a cloth in the ether and brings it back, pressing it against her face.
"You will pay for this, Allegra." he warns her as she struggles in his grasp. She goes limp and he holds her up, half carrying her to the chair that he had previously occupied. Working quickly, he secures her to the chair with the duct tape. Then, he turns to tend to his sweet, sweet Emily.
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Allegra awakens some time later, and tries to scream finding her mouth to be sealed with grey duct tape. Dr. Hannibal Lecter stands over his wife who lays on the morgue table, finishing the last careful stitches of her wounds. He does not glance in her direction as he carefully removes the latex gloves and disposes of them in the trash can by the sink. Coming back across the room, he pauses to check on his wife again, then, satisfied, turns to face her. She struggles against her bonds as she is scrutinized by those red, red eyes. Fear trickles into her stomach the way it trickles from the gash on her abdomen, slow and deliberate.
So this is how my husband felt. The thought wormed its way into her brain and forced a tear from her eye. Hannibal cocked his head to one side, drilling an auger of curiosity into her.
"Tears, dear Allegra?" he asks, coming closer to the chair, standing directly in front of her. She grunts under the duct tape, glaring at him. "Do you wish to say something to me? I know your husband did when he was about to die." he hunkers down, now at eye level with her. "He offered me money to let him go, is that what you will offer me, Alle-gra?" he draws the name out, a slight smile turning up the corners of his lips.
"Pity. I have no use for your money. See, your husband sold me to Mason Verger. You, however, tried to take what is most precious from me. Not a wise move." He rises to his feet again, walking over to the table on which the machines rest. He fingers the long cord of the heart monitor, then yanks it from the outlet. She watches, fear growing in her by leaps and bounds. He begins to fashion the cord into a hangman's noose, with the traditional thirteen coils. She rocks in the chair, desperately trying to find some way to loose herself. He looks up at her from his work, shaking his head.
"There is no escape for you, Allegra. One has to pay for their sins." he completes the noose and carries it and the heart monitor it is still attached to over to the table behind her. She twists her head, following every move he makes. He carefully takes the china and silverware from the table, making a neat stack of it on the ground. Then, he moves the table away from the wall. The heart monitor is placed on the floor for a moment as he measures the distance with the cord from her to where it sits. The table is moved a few inches closer to the chair, and the heart monitor placed atop it. She feels the cold rubber of the noose being lowered around her neck. He comes once again to stand in front of her, she can no longer glare at him, as her eyes begin to tear. He adjusts the noose and her blouse, shaking his head at the blood stain that is seeping across the crisp white color.
"I gave your husband the choice of bowels in or bowels out when I threw him off the balcony." his voice is as calm and dry as if he were making conversation about the weather. "Unfortunately, it wouldn't be as much fun here." she whimpers, blinking away the tears. "Its too late for apologies, Signora Pazzi. Too late to beg for forgiveness, too." A smile plays across his features as he leans close to her, breath brushing gently across her ear. "Do you know what I told him before I attacked him? Hmmmm? No? I didn't think so. I told him that I was giving serious thought to eating his wife." He steps back to look into her eyes, the fear is immense now, and he takes a sip of it. Exquisite, much like that of Senator Martin. He clasps his hands behind his back as he walks away to once again check on Emily. He comes back, and looks at her one last time.
"This will be a slow death for you, Allegra." he steps out of her field of vision but she can hear the scuffing of his soles on the floor. "Arrivederci, Signora Pazzi." He pushes the heart monitor off the table, the cord is pulled taut, snapping Allegra's head back. It does not break the neck, but insures a slow strangulation as the heart monitor dangles a few inches from the floor. He has turned away, and gently lifts Emily in his arms, carrying her out the door and up into the very early San Francisco morning.
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