Chapter 31

"You're kidding me. A population of 312,000?"

"Of which 120,000 here in Reykjavik. And given the country's area, the population density is around eight persons per square mile. In comparison; West-Virginia's density is just over 77. And Iceland's urbanization is very high."

She looked at him incredulously.

"Aunt Wiki," he replied, and smiled. "I'm not a walking encyclopedia."

They stood at Reykjavik Airport where the Icelandair Boeing had brought them painlessly.

"So much beautiful country for so few people," Clarice continued after a moment's thought.

"Yes, there's more than enough place for mischief. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had Sherlock Holmes say it so astutely: It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside."

"Well, apart from what already might be going on, there's two harvesters of sorrow heading this way. Let's find ourselves a rental and have a look around. We have three days before they arrive." [MB]

"Three days in the land of fire and ice. Whatever shall we do?" she asked, giving him a teasing smile.

He leaned in, kissed the corner of her mouth, and said, "Enjoy them both. Simultaneously."

Hours later, Clarice found herself settling into a bubbling hot spring surrounded by stunning glaciers with green and yellow Northern lights shimmering above her.

"This can't possibly be real. I've been run over by a truck, and this is some hallucination my dying brain has conjured, a final, gasping effort to feel safe."

Hannibal stretched down to kiss her bare shoulder. "All things fade into the storied past, and in a little while are shrouded in oblivion."

"Really?" she asked. "Marcus Aurelius now?"

"Forgive, my dear. Perhaps I should assure you that you are indeed here. That this moment and you and I are very real. Our own little slice of infinity oblivion shall never steal."

She laughed and leaned into him. "I feel like I need more wine if we're going to continue down this philosophical bend."

"Soon, love." Then his voice dropped to something near a whisper. "Does this place remind you of anything?" [D]

Clarice fell silent as she tried to remember. They'd been together for over a year now and traveled Europe to and fro. Apparently he referred to a special occasion she ought to... Ah, yes! Now she remembered. Italy. The city of... Acqui Terme. The natural hot spring with its smooth tiered stones and steaming mists... It felt like longer ago than it actually was.

Watching Clarice work her way through her memories, searching for the moment he'd been referring to, was truly a majestic sight to Hannibal. Her brain racing though time and space, trying to align her current window with one from the past; her eyes, her face, mirroring the thought processes - exactly like Sir Conan Doyle described in The Adventure of the Cardboard Box - enthralled him. The slight blush that appeared on her lovely cheeks - one always colored with a shot of gunpowder - told him clearly when she made the connection.

She didn't speak, though. She simply reached behind her, and down, ever so slowly, and let the muscles in her arms and hands - once capable of ninety pulls per minute - do the speaking for her.

.

On Sunday they drove off early, going around the south side of the island, a route of just under 400 miles. They stopped occasionally to admire the scenery; the country was rough and it seemed human efforts to cultivate the land would always be useless, as well as pointless. The ancient atmosphere was inspiring and breathtaking. They stopped at two tiny communities for meals. Especially their stop in Höfn proved to be well chosen, langoustine were apparently a local specialty and played a center role in a number of dishes. Hannibal enjoyed the langoustine soup and traditional fish stew, while Clarice tried her hand at the langoustine pizza.

They reached Egilsstaðir in the late afternoon. As Hannibal had mentioned, most Icelanders lived in cities and most of those in Reykjavik. While Egilsstaðir was an important city in the area - the biggest city and administrative center of East-Iceland, with an airport, the number of inhabitants was only slightly over 2,000.

Clarice had booked a room at Guesthouse Egilsstaðir, their best room, with view on the lovely lake behind the place. They had another day off, the ferry would moor Tuesday. [MB]

Clarice pushed opened the casement window and took a deep breath of moisture-laden air. Hannibal stepped behind her and wrapped one arm around her middle, then settled his chin in the nook between her neck and shoulder. Together they stared out at the blue gray water.

She leaned back into him and said, "I read an article recently—" she paused and laughed, "actually, in one of your medical journals. I was in the bubble bath and in desperate need of reading material. Anyhow, it said being around water is comparable to taking a prescription sedative."

He smiled and gave her a squeeze. "Indeed, I read that same article. Though, it was in a rather water damaged state by the time I could access it. Situational irony, I'd say."

With mock outrage she lightly pushed her elbow back into his ribs. "Silly man," she said with a laugh and then she continued, "Why do you think that is? Does it take us back to the womb? Floating in our own oceanic universe, safe and comfortable?"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it goes back even further, to a time when our gilled ancestors laboriously pushed themselves up onto a sandy beach. Water always looks like home." He paused to kiss her neck then said, "Water is life."

She twisted until she was fully turned in his arms and facing him. "You're my life," she said, and briefly pressed her lips to his before pulling back. "And I don't mean it in some dreary, codependent way. I mean together we've created a life I never imagined. And now I can't imagine any other."

He dropped his forehead to rest on hers. "I'm much older than you, Clarice. Biology supports me in my hope that you will have many years in this world after I am gone. Do you imagine this life for yourself then?"

She smiled. "Yes," she said. "Travel. Pursuing monsters more monstrous than me. But you'll still be with me, here," she said, tapping the side of her head.

"Indeed, I shall. I do hope you'll put me up in one of your larger wings so I'll have plenty of rooms to cultivate."

"Oh, not to worry, you'll have plenty of space." She paused, thinking about her most recent exam. "And if it's reversed, and you find yourself alone, will you continue just the same?"

His voice quieter, he said, "Not just the same, Clarice. But I'd continue, yes."

She smiled, "That's my boy."

Anticipation filled her as she contemplated the coming days, the culmination of their hunt.

Soon. [D]

.

"Soon, Frederico. We'll moor in Faroe at around 5 AM and will spend a week there before we proceed."

"Bom, Cibrán," I replied but I didn't understand. If he was so anxious to get to Iceland, why the delay?

"We'll visit lake Sørvágsvatn. Have you ever seen a picture of it?"

"No?"

"It's a lake that... or perhaps it's better that I don't spoil the surprise," he said and grinned.

That's typically Cibrán, teasing you, wetting your appetite and then leaving you without a bone to pick on.

And he's too chirpy. He's been pushy before and eager to travel, but it's different now somehow. Can't put my finger on it, I sense it. Maybe killing the baby killed the last grain of humanity in him and he's all diabo now. Got to find a way to leave. He won't let me. No, he won't. But I need to. I think he'll kill me one of these days. I'm sure of it, he will kill me. One of these days he's going to cut me into little pieces.

"Cheer up, Frederico, we're almost there! Why so gloomy?"

Shit. I need to take care not to show my anxiety...

"The travelling is getting to me, I think."

"Don't be a crybaby, brother of mine, eh? Mother taught us to be tough, remember? Remember her telling you to man up? She was right you know, you need to man up, really. I have, that crazy bitch taught me well - I am the one who killed her!"

And now he's laughing like it's all a game and the most hilarious thing he ever said.

I dare not.

But I will have to. I will have to stop him before he kills me. Kill him before he kills me... [MB]

.

"Where are the little shits?" Clarice asked, lifting her palm to her forehead to better shield her eyes from the rather startling morning sun. She scanned the full length of the dock and back again, then slouched down in annoyance.

Hannibal smiled at the outrage in her voice. "Are you sure they're not big shits, love? Both are at least a foot taller than you."

She threw a sugar packet at him then took a swig of her cold coffee, her face twisting in distaste. They had been here for more than an hour. Prepared. Trap set. Apparently the murderous brothers didn't get the memo.

"Slippery shits, that's what they are."

"The Faroe islands," Hannibal said, helpfully.

She threw another sugar packet at him and sighed. "I know, it's the only other place the ferry stops. Still, I'm sure they'll dock here at some point."

"Indeed, I'm sure they will. And while all this talk of excrement isn't particularly appetizing, would my lady care to join me for breakfast?"

She smiled at him and stood up. "Actually, since we have some time to kill, there's something I've always wanted to try."

An hour later Hannibal stared at the object she'd dropped in his hand, incredulous. "Really?" he asked and looked up in time to catch her mischievous grin.

"Why not, we only live once." [D]