Bram Stoker's HANNIBAL

Chapter 24: By Sweet Temptation Tried

CW: non-con, attempted assault

Will got up at the first sight of dawn.

He'd managed to snag a few hours of fitful sleep, but the phrase he'd heard that had echoed in all the chambers of his heart kept repeating itself in his mind. Your burdens are my burdens. He would never have had the pretext to say something like that to Hannibal. It made much more sense coming from the count, trying to convince Will to stop feeling like he was overstaying his welcome at Castle Lecter. Will had spent hours in the dark wracking his memory, trying to recall having said the phrase. His memory was eidetic, or it was when he was feeling sane – yet he had no recollection of ever speaking that phrase at all, to anyone.

Then again, he didn't remember having lunch with Avigeya yesterday. Apparently he could carry on whole conversations during his blackouts.

All through the fitful night of sleep, the door engraved with the tree had called to him. Just when he would be easing off into sleep, it would appear in his mind's eye, oscillating between how beautiful it must have looked when it was new, and its ruined carcass stripped of precious stones and materials. Then he would start back into full wakefulness, his body acting as if he'd just stopped himself from falling.

He'd felt sick, sweaty and feverish, alternating between hot and cold. He'd wished desperately that Hannibal hadn't left and wondered if there was anyone watching his door in case he might sleepwalk.

Now that it was dawn, and the rooster was crowing, he thought nobody would be. Now was the time that Hannibal always left him to attend to... something. Sleep somewhere else, he didn't know. The count had always been intentionally vague, Will thought. Another way he hadn't reciprocated the expected full honesty. He'd never seen Chiyoh, Antony, or Bedelia at any time between dawn and mid-afternoon. That could indicate that the four of them were together somewhere, but Will also knew from his days as an investigator that correlation was just that. Either way, he felt confident they were otherwise occupied.

Peter would be up, doing his morning chores. Avigeya would wake in about half an hour and start breakfast.

If he went now, and quickly, no one would know.

If he went now, and quickly, his courage might not fail him.

Will dressed as fast as he could: trousers, socks, boots, shirt unbuttoned at the neck, sleeves rolled up. He went to the library and retrieved an oil lamp, lit it, and crept along the passages until he reached the door carved with the Tree of Life. The daylight was growing steadily brighter, but he had no idea what the interior would be like. Assuming the door would even open.

He chastised himself again. This was ridiculous. The secret latch from a dream could not exist. Couldn't work. The door was old, and looked like it wouldn't open, even if it was unlocked.

But he had to know.

Will drew the lamp along the decorative edge of the tree design until he found the little warrior armed with two daggers. He took his sleeve and wiped the dust away from it, then blew on it with a lungful of air before licking his finger and rubbing it over the surface, trying to see it more clearly.

The little carved warrior wore breeches and a doublet, and was young, beardless, with curly hair.

Will took a shaky breath and waited, listening for any kind of movement. For any sound, for the Ripper's laugh, for any indication that he was dreaming or hallucinating. He felt awake. Tired and sleepless, stomach churning with anxiety, but lucid.

"Just do it, and be done with it," he whispered to himself. Reaching out with quivering fingers, he pressed on the carved warrior's raised dagger.

The little weapon popped back, sinking into the carving, leaving a divot in its wake. Something heavy and metallic clanked in the workings of the door.