Something Wicked This Way Comes

Chapter 19

Anastassia walked with Antonio Paravaci into what was presented as his home. She knew better. The former resident had died approximately a week prior. She knew this for a fact; the woman had been her patient. Being the consummate professional that she was in the work place, the death was inevitable. The woman had stage IV cancer that had metastasized quickly throughout the vital organs. Anastassia’s sociopathic pleasures did not drift into the workplace.

Still, the smile was polite and she chatted warmly with the man while waiting for the possibility of a double cross from him. The long coat she wore was discarded upon entry. There was nothing beneath the coat save for a tiny scrap of silk that could barely be called panties. They cost more than many people made in a week. She kept the heels on and walked through the small home.

Paravaci watched her walk. She was seductive. Anastassia moved like a predator with the intent to find her prey. Sleek hips danced to the beat of her heart. He smiled while watching. She will be a delight, Paravaci thought.

Antonio Paravaci led her down the stairs and into a basement that was scraped clean. It was almost surgical in appearance. Her mentor stood in the center of the room attached to a cross like device, although Lecter’s feet still touched the floor. He was naked and drugged.

“You did a lovely job Antonio.”

He bowed and dipped his head. “Thank you my muse. “

A hand lifted palm up and extended to the man. “Syringe please Antonio.”

It was handed to her in silence. Anastassia did not bother to clean the area of selected skin; instead she simply injected Lecter with a dosage of Narcan. She used it to counteract the opiates that Paravaci had given him.

Lecter woke, fighting. Anastassia was behind him and she pressed against the wooden cross and against his back. One arm wrapped around his chest and she held him gently. A slow smile appeared and she flashed it to Paravaci, who laughed with insane glee.

Lips painted dark whispered in Lecter’s ear. “Do you trust me dear Hannibal?” The question had been posed to her from Lecter’s lips many times in the past. The laugh that stroked his skin after she had spoken would have chilled the skin of any average man. Nails, long and sharp, bit into his chest and drew downward slowly. With her own hands, Anastassia Serdste ripped her lover’s flesh.

“To thine own self be true ma Stassi.” Lecter spoke quietly.

She smiled beautifully at Paravaci once more. Turning to face the tethered man, a flick of the tongue tasted the drips of still warm blood. Lecter inhaled her scent and the coppery bite of his own blood. In the strange circumstance of betrayal, he was oddly aroused.

The smear of blood on her lips was offered to Paravaci to taste. With a sweeping grand gesture she offered up the body of Hannibal Lecter as well. Anastassia took a seat. She watched and waited while the abuse fell onto Lecter’s flesh. Most of it was for his ears rather than the body of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Antonio Paravaci screamed and cajoled, trying to have Lecter bargain for his life. He laughed at his captive’s arousal while Anastassia merely relaxed and watched. It was when Paravaci brandished a large blade that she stepped in.

“No Antonio. Not yet. Lecter needs to suffer for all that he put us through.” Her voice was like a sing-song and the beautiful smile was now somewhat broken. “Tell him Antonio. Tell my Father what you know.” She took the knife.

The words started off as a ramble while Lecter glanced at the man. His face betrayed neither pain nor hurt at the betrayal of his once loyal protégé. He merely watched and listened to the man ranting.

“You speak as a rational man Dr. Lecter but you are anything but.” For the moment Paravaci appeared to regain sanity. “You killed my family. You killed my grandfather. It is now only my mother and I. You tried to destroy us and now it is time for me to destroy you.”

There was a razor between Paravaci’s fingers when the strikes against Lecter’s body began again. The cuts were small and quite shallow. The show of blood was a masterpiece that Lecter might have applauded himself if his flesh was not the canvas.

It was the moment that Paravaci grabbed Anastassia’s hand and thrust the woman against Lecter that caused the surprise. The woman was moved as Paravaci wished and she moved willingly. Her lean body smeared with blood now writhed against Lecter’s in the promise of passion. Paravaci attempted to mount the woman that was pressed between himself and his nemesis.

Anastassia kissed Lecter softly at first and he returned the kiss to her. The one person that knew him and his peccadillos, even now, could stir a reaction. Her fingers slipped through the blood and the sticky wetness of bloodied flesh that was before her. The scrap of blood wetted silk caused the friction across the length of Lecter’s shaft. Within moments, Hannibal Lecter’s pleasure exploded against Anastassia’s belly. There was a shriek of anger from the man behind her.

She shushed the young man softly and stroked his hair ever so tenderly. “There is always later Antonio.” She quieted his fury at being unable to perform. In that moment she was but a bloody wraith in the sterile basement, she sat back in the chair to watch again.

Paravaci took his anger out upon Lecter once again. He beat the man furiously with a whip made for show horses. The colors of the tails driving through the air created a pastel rainbow that sung with the bells attached to the handle. Over and over again the whip found their target upon the blood smeared flesh of Lecter.

Lecter jerked and moved with each strike, but the refusal to cry out was evident. Indeed, Hannibal smiled through it all. It was when his arm began to tire that Antonio asked for the knife. Obliging, Anastassia brought it to him. She stood behind the man in the brutal tableaux of blood and pleasure. When Paravaci reached for it, Anastassia moved the blade back closer to her.

“No. Speak your mind Antonio. Tell Hannibal what you told me.”

He was such a good boy under his mother’s tutelage and now Anastassia’s. So he did as she asked and began to speak. “I wanted to be like you Hannibal. I heard the stories my entire life. How the beaten boy came back from the grave to win. Your sister must have made a delicious meal. It truly would have been one for you to have enjoyed so well.” Paravaci smiled at the captured man. “My grandfather, I only knew him briefly, but he told me of what he had done. I did not know it was you until many years later when my mother recognized your name. My mother. My mother was a cruel bitch that liked to beat me. She taught me the seduction of killing as much as my grandfather did. Although, it was easier for us to do as such since most of Eastern Europe does not pay attention to what happens to their peasants.” He spit.

Anastassia watched Lecter closely while the boy spoke. Lecter’s eyes met her gaze and he gave the slightest of smiles to the woman before him. She returned the smile to her mentor.

“I knew who you were long before anyone else Dr. Lecter. I knew. So I mirrored my kills, I wanted you to know me. I wanted you to be the father that I never had. Instead, I found your daughter.” Paravaci motioned to Anastassia. “She was much more willing than you would ever be. I am the master artist now and you are to be but a forgotten face upon the FBI’s list of serial kill-….”

The façade broke. Anastassia Serdste looked upon the boy with disgust. With a sweeping motion the knife in Anastassia’s hand became a weapon once more. The arc of her body when she grabbed Antonio Paravaci’s hair and used the knife to slit the boy’s throat from ear to ear was as seductive as anything that had ever been seen before by Lecter.

There was blood. There was a lot of blood. It sprayed across Hannibal Lecter’s body like an erupting storm. The rest covered Anastassia as well. The knife and the body were both dropped at Lecter’s feet and she stepped forward. The binds were not undone; she let him stand there while her lips sought Lecter’s own.

The kiss given was reciprocated with such favor that the world stopped moving in that instant. Breaking away, Anastassia spoke softly. “You are most difficult of a man to plan a birthday gift for Hannibal. Happy Birthday nonetheless, I do hope you enjoyed yourself.” The smile that she gave her mentor was genuine, as was Lecter's.


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