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That...had not gone as planned.
Hannibal held the steering wheel so tight his knuckles ached, the anger and adrenaline pumping through him, and tried to calm down.
Renald Grossman had not been the rude businessman he'd expected.
The man's home had been well kept and spotless when he broke in, a huge red flag he ignored, and finding the man who'd cut him off in traffic hours ago while making rude gestures yelling not in his bed surprised him.
As did the knife in his side.
It was as shallow cut, hardly more than a scratch, as really he got more pain from what followed after. The fight had lasted far too long, and the man's neck was broken by the end though he did have to clean up quite a bit of blood in his own anger after.
Hannibal had the body wrapped up in his trunk and thought little of keeping it as any of that man's meat on his tongue he knew would taste like ash. He kept himself awake on the ride home with music and images of a tableau to ridicule the FBI but even that was a struggle. It felt as if time had stopped as he drove, one moment he was blinking blurry and the next he was heading inside to tend to his wounds.
Then woke up in bed.
Hannibal showered and dragged himself back to the garage, hoping the body wasn't too spoiled for the FBI, and paused.
The trunk was open.
Would he have been reckless?
The thought someone had gotten in and was waiting made him grab a rake, jaw tight as he listened but heard nothing. Then he made his way to the trunk.
A hand.
Just a hand.
That was all left inside his trunk.
Hannibal frowned as he picked up the hand, noticing the obvious signs of being bitten.
A wild animal?
Unlikely.
He may have been tired last night, but his garage doors were closed.
That was when he saw the drops of blood. It was simple enough to follow the trail, the mess leading him out to his backyard but ended with nothing.
There was a bit of disappointment to find nothing and headed back inside to dispose of the hand. Lye took several hours to dissolve but he had time, grabbing other cleaning tools to clean up the blood and mess in his trunk. He went outside to follow the trail again, but even the slight scent of blood was gone.
A pity.
Something.....or someone.....had been here.
It was unsettling as much as it was intriguing.
What type of creature could have followed him home?
Hannibal could not stop thinking of this creature, not for the rest of the day, and went out that night just to hunt for an excuse not to dwell. He went into his rolodex this time and found a particularly rude hair stylist who'd spoken unfairly to someone at his last visit to a rather expensive establishment enough it had made him not want to return.
Her name was Gretchen Lark and she lived in a very remote area nearly two hours from his own home.
Hannibal killed her cleanly after hours of torture in a rather well-lit garage, then put the body in his trunk like he had Renald the night before.
The ride home was calmer, and he had no thought to the strangeness of his morning.
He parked and opened the trunk, conscious of any sounds around him but heard none as he went into the house carrying the body with him. It took several minutes to ready the body for carving, and Gretchen was on his table ready to go when he heard the noise upstairs.
The scalpel in his hand was replaced by a much larger blade as he headed up, heart pounding.
A low whine made him pause, and then saw a man in bedraggled clothing run from his kitchen toward the garage door. Hannibal had him around the waist as the man fought, a loud snarl coming, and when his thief turned he let go out of shock.
The man was not a man at all, barely if anything, and his yellow eyes and wolf-like nose accompanied claws that came out as they faced each other. He stepped back, conscious of the creature's anger and put up both hands.
"I.....you're hungry, yes?"
The young creature growled, his unruly curls framing his face perfectly, and even half shifted he was quite beautiful.
"I mean you no...." he tossed his knife, putting up both hands, "...harm. I....would not want you to go hungry.. She's downstairs..and all yours."
The creature seemed torn, eyes darting to the open door in his pantry, and back at Hannibal.
"I do not know what you are, or why you're in such need now when you've never been but....I want to share, yes? We...." he smiled, "...both like the same food, don't we? Human meat."
The young man let out a low whine. "I....didn't want to. I....killed him."
Hannibal frowned. "Who?"
"My father," the desperate whisper made Hannnibal's chest tighten as the half shifted snout was gone replaced by one of the most beautiful young men he'd ever seen, "I was just so hungry, I.....all the time I'm just so hungry. I killed him and..." he let out a sob, "It wasn't enough I could smell your first....the first body....for miles and I kept running till.....I can't stop, I don't....."
Hannibal let out a long breath and held out a hand. "Let me help you."
"No," he hissed, stepping back, "No, I....I can't!"
"WAIT!"
His monstrous thief ran off then, and Hannibal tried to follow but he was far too fast.
He slumped on his back porch with a sigh as the cool darkness did nothing to help his sudden melancholy.
What type of creature had he just lost?
And would he find him again?