We Grow Accustomed To The Dark

Chapter 4

Hannibal could only bring himself to stare at the art before him. That was what it was. Macabre as it was, it was art. It was also no doubt by Will's own hand. The same Will who stood at the outskirts of the taped off police line, by the door to the art exhibit and refused to move a step closer.

Will might as well have been a work of art himself, hung on a wall or displayed like a statue. Still, unreservedly quiet. His bluebell eyes were enchanting, delicate and like the flower his gaze was never direct. It preferred to shy earthbound in a strict focus with the hardwood flooring of the gallery. He hadn't even so much as acknowledged Hannibal's presence when Hannibal had entered the room. Not even Beverly could pull an emotion from the man, informing Hannibal that Will had taken one look at the body and had been comatose ever since.

Hannibal wanted nothing more than to be upset with the obvious display of childness from the man, but the beauty of the display before him held him suspended in awe and disbelief at the meaning behind it. Will was still upset from dinner the week previous. That much was obvious, but he wondered how the man had turned his anger into something so delicate. Odette had been orchestrated perfectly, but this was another level all together.

A frame made of a mocha colored dark walnut was mounted on the wall. Within the frame was the bust of a woman, her back to the world, but her head turned to the side to see the profile of her face and head that had been shaved smooth. Her skin was a ghostly white as if dusted in moonbeams save for where her back was split open down the middle in a dark red. It was carefully pulled open to reveal itself as empty, the spine missing.

The openness of the body continued up the neck until the entire side of her head was opened. It wasn't her skull that was in her head. Her skull was still in place to keep the head and facial features from sinking in on themselves. It was someone else, someone smaller. The skull of another person sat backwards in her own head, teeth hitting where her spine would have been if it was still present in her back. The side of her cheek had also been opened up and the spine still connected to the skull was sitting through her mouth and pouring from her lips.

The skull had been carefully taken care of. It must have taken days for Will to work with the skull. Beautiful dedication, just as a hunter would have done with any mount on a wall. Other than the Roman Numeral 13 carved into the side of the skull where the parietal and occipital lobe would have met, it was preserved.

Hannibal had to wonder for a moment though, as the scent of bleach was practically nowhere in the air, yet the skull was delicately white. Bleach would compromise the skull, turn it to dust. Hannibal knew well enough when he had been cleaning something and grew curious as to what the chemical would do. So what had Will done? There was nothing to suggest the harshness of boiling. All of it was gentle, done with love and care.

There was a hint of borax and something flowery under the barely noticeable slight acrylic acidic scent and bleach. A paraloid resin coated the skull, just enough to make sure that any handling of the skull wouldn't turn it a nasty yellow color, but not enough to add a varnish or lacquer shine to the bone.

"Has anyone reported finding the rest of her body?" Zeller asked and he leaned incredibly close to the artwork, blocking Hannibal's view of it, but the conversation had caught his interest and he listened in silence. "Or whoever the extra skull belonged to?"

You won't ever know, Hannibal thought, eyes flickering over to Will.

"How could we possibly know about the skull yet?" Price shot back, a blue pen in hand pointing towards the object in question. "We're lucky we were left with possible dental records to pull from. Whoever this was definitely knows how to strip all evidence if he wants to."