Bram Stoker's HANNIBAL

Chapter 37: Count Them Not For Sin

Chapter 37: Count Them Not For Sin

"Your breathing's better," Alana told him as they climbed the hundreds steps up to St. Mary's to claim their usual seat. "Your color, too."

"The sea air," he said, hands stuffed in his pockets, just a hint of irony. In truth, he did feel better. His thoughts were clear. Memories did surface, but they didn't come barrelling up from his unconscious mind like a steam engine with an accompanying roar. He didn't try to suss out what had actually happened at Castle Lecter, didn't torture himself with trying to understand why and how, what was real and what wasn't. He locked it all away, like Alana had bound up and hidden his journal. All he wanted to do now was get out of England. Away from Alana and her suitors.

Once he confronted Prudence Bloom, and demanded she tell him the truth about his mother. He knew it in his heart, but he wanted to hear her say it.

They settled in. Will had his journal out, but wasn't writing. Alana had a stack of letters to open, and asked if he would mind if she did so now.

"Go ahead," he said, sketching a line on his page, wondering if it would become a letter. A letter H.

Alana did so, dutifully reporting Prudence's well wishes. Will perked up when she opened a letter from Beverly Katz. "The dogs are very well. She's looking forward to seeing you again, Will. I think the two of you will get on famously. Do you like her?"

Will nodded. "Down to earth. Unconcerned with convention but not in a way that's abrasive. Good sense of humor. Uhm, likes dogs. What's not to love?"

"And beautiful," Alana reminded him, smiling down at the letter. "Do you think you'd get on well with her if I married her?"

He shrugged, deliberately not meeting her gaze. "The idea isn't... disagreeable to me."

She giggled, shaking her head. "That's as close to a Will Graham blessing as I'm going to get, isn't it? But surely you'd get on with Margot. We were all children together."

Will paused, stopping the words that were about to tumble out of his mouth. It was instinctive, wanting to hurt Alana, after she'd rejected him. Petty, but instinctive. He had to hold that part of himself at bay. She was right. It was never going to work out for them, and it was better if she married and moved on. He was going to leave the country soon, anyway. At least he'd be able to rest easy knowing she was happy. And so in that moment, he decided not to say anything about having sex with Margot all those years ago. "I don't want Mason for an in-law," he settled on.

"They're practically estranged. He lives an ocean away."

Will snorted. "Not far enough."

"What would be far enough for you?"

"Six feet under," Will growled.

Alana laughed gaily, as if he were joking. Will acknowledged that the ratio of joke to serious in this particular matter was 50-50 at best.

"What about Christmastime? What about the wedding?"

Alana patted his knee. "I'm not going to derail my whole life just because I'm afraid of Mason Verger. Besides, Margot and I have you to protect us, don't we?"

He wasn't going to be around to protect her. But if Alana was dead-set on marrying into the Verger clan, that was her choice. "Sounds like Dr. Chilton's dropped in the running," he said. "Or is he the, ah, dark horse in the race?"

"Frederick's a fascinating man. I'm very interested in his work. And I thought the way he treated you last time really seemed like a miracle."

"If by fascinating you mean pompous and full of himself," Will shot back, then took a breath against the bitterness.