Bram Stoker's HANNIBAL

Chapter 10: How The World Runs On

The library was spectacular.

Will grew restless while he waited, thinking too hard about the Count, and allowed himself to explore both storeys of the vast collection. There were books in numerous languages, from Latin to Romanian to Russian to what Will thought might be Japanese. Whole shelves dedicated to the output of British Isles, including somewhat-recent magazines and newspapers. "Damn," Will muttered as he flipped through a massive stack of Punch, easily finding the cartoons published during the Ripper case mocking Scotland Yard's inability to find the killer. Will felt lucky that he didn't see any copies of the London Evening Standard, which had featured whole pages devoted to Winifred Lounds and her scandalous reporting of the investigation, along with her pen-and-ink drawings.

Though those drawings could, he thought, explain why Count Lecter looked at him almost as though he recognized Will from somewhere.

Lounds' illustrations, however, did not account for why Will felt like he'd seen Count Lecter somewhere before. Which was completely impossible; the man had lived his whole life in the Carpathians and Will would remember someone as distinctive-looking.

Striking, if we're being honest, his mind muttered.

He left Punch and continued to peruse. The books were of the most varied kind – history, geography, politics, political economy, botany, geology, law – all relating to England and English life and customs and manners. There were even such books of reference as the London Directory, the "Red" and "Blue" books, Whitaker's Almanac, the Army and Navy Lists and – it somehow gladdened Will's heart to see it – the Law List. Count Lecter was a meticulous man, it seemed, preparing in every way possible to emigrate.

Will left the English section, running his fingers over the spines of another set of volumes. While some corners of the room were dusty and laced with cobwebs, the books themselves were lovingly taken care of. It must take Avigeya a considerable part of her day to keep it clean.

He paused his hand over a copy of Sir Richard Burton's translation of A Thousand and One Arabian Nights. Flipping through it, Will suddenly closed the book with an awkward half-laugh. This was definitely not a sanctioned version of the text, as it was interspersed with illustrations depicting the sexual escapades of the characters. Detailed illustrations. In fact, the book's text seemed like a smokescreen for someone wanting to own a collection of erotic art.

Some of the pairings weren't even featured in the stories. One illustration showed what appeared to be a mighty king and a young prince...?

Will had seen plenty when he'd worked in Whitechapel, and he'd had some rudimentary experiences with Neil, but these pictures were... something else. The fantasy element only served to make them more alluring.

"How do you even..." he muttered, turning the book sideways to try and understand how the prince could stand that way and still have the king be able to–

"Good evening, Mr. Graham."

Will dropped the book. It landed with a thud on the library floor. He tried to keep his face blank as he bent to retrieve it and quickly slide it back onto the shelf.

"Forgive me. I startled you." The Count wore a dark blue high-necked jacket tonight, similar to what he'd had on the last time Will had seen him, but had a dark red cape fixed to his shoulders with a gold pin shaped like a stag's head. He looked like a character from a poem half-lost to time, his eyes and features otherworldly and coldly noble.

Will could only nod in reply as the count came closer, examining the books that Will had shown an interest in. "I'm glad you've found your way in here. I'm sure there is much that will interest you. These companions–" he rested his hand on the bookshelf, his fingers an inch from A Thousand and One Arabian Nights, "have been good friends to me, and for some years past. I take it you noticed my Anglophilic collection."