BIG hugs to peanutpup, Batty Dings, Teen543, SloaneDestler, Phantomgirl24, phanrose, lindaweng, Pip and CO, smrb, Aphaea21, and Badpixie06 for the lovely reviews!

As Erik's time in Venice comes to a close, I want to point you toward the song that inspired the relationship between the Fox Den crew - it's called "Brother" by Kodaline.

Thank you for reading :)


Erik

Chapter 69

The Hunt

I didn't go inside right away.

Instead, I stood staring into the canal on the side of the Inn. I was reminded, as I looked into the moon-reflected black waters, of the night I met Vincenzo and Carmelo. Where would I be now, had they chosen a different route, had I decided not to steal from them? Would I have still fallen in love with someone - and would they, too, have broken my heart twice over?

Closing my eyes with a sigh, I turned on my heels and made my way to the front of the Inn. I went inside and stared at the staircase leading up to the rooms - but I couldn't sleep. And I didn't want to be in that room with only my books.

No, I wanted music.

So I went downstairs instead, to the cellar, expecting it to be empty and dark - but finding, instead, that it was well-lit; at the table, staring at me with faces like black stone, were Giovanni and Carmelo.

I looked at my feet as I continued down the stairs, and then stopped at the bottom step, putting a hand on the railing.

They knew I'd gone. Perhaps I could lie, though I loathed the idea - I could say I merely went walking-

"Where did you go?" asked Giovanni softly.

But now that my chance to fib had come, I found that I couldn't. I found that my mouth refused to cooperate.

Giovanni continued, words gentle. "Carmelo was awake and saw, from his bedroom window, you leaving the Inn. Where did you go? Be honest."

My voice was hoarse. "Mario's estate." I gripped the railing a bit tighter.

Giovanni took a long, slow breath in, but he didn't seem surprised. "Did you go inside?"

"Yes." My heart beat rapidly. Surely I would be punished for this. He'd never punished me before - but I'd never done anything like this, either.

"Did anyone see you?" he whispered. Carmelo, beside him, stared at me with wild, unbelieving eyes.

"No."

For a moment, they both simply watched me. Then Giovanni closed his eyes and said. "Carmelo. The trap door. Get it ready."

"Yes, Father."

I watched with mild confusion as Carmelo removed the chair, moved the rug, and opened the door to the room beneath the cellar. Then, he stood straight and looked at me once again. There was an ounce of pain on his face, blended with a look of amazement and incredulity. "Did you find it?"

I knew what he was talking about, of course. "Yes."

Giovanni's eyes went wide. "Did you take it, Erik?"

"No."

"Wise."

Shouts, then, from outside the Inn. We heard the door to the building pound, and then burst open. Heavy footsteps as Giovanni slowly stood. He swallowed as he looked at me.

"Clear out!" Mario's voice - the sound crackling and burning with rage. "Everyone, clear out! Men, go upstairs and remove anyone who is not a flea-ridden fox."

"You were seen," Giovanni whispered.

My breathing accelerated. "I-"

"Check the rooms upstairs!" Mario commanded. "The beast probably went to sleep. If you don't find him, interrogate Billisi's men until you do."

Carmelo moved forward and grabbed my arm. He pulled me toward the trap door. "Get in," he said.

"But-"

"Now!"

I'd never seen Carmelo this serious - this anxious. I didn't question his command. I went inside as he closed the door behind me - I was left in darkness, with only my ears for a clue as to what was happening. I listened as he moved the rug and chair into place.

Over the next ten or so minutes, all I heard were people - guests, running and yelling as Mario's men forced them out in their pursuit - their pursuit of me. Then, from somewhere far above me, a gunshot. I heard Carmelo gasp, but Giovanni shushed him.

Five minutes, and then a second shot.

Anther five minutes, and footsteps sounded down the stairs. I wasn't sure how many men he'd brought, but it sounded enough to fill the cellar.

"Where is he, Giovanni?" growled Mario.

"Who?" His voice was, as ever, unnervingly collected.

"Don't toy with me, bastard." Mario's footsteps. "He broke into my home, went into my bedroom. My housekeeper watched in terror, frozen to the spot, only mustering the courage to wake me when he left. And he took nothing - which leads me to interpret his actions as a warning...and I will not be threatened! I will not be watched while I sleep! Where is he?"

"Vincenzo?" asked Giovanni. "Salvatore? You haven't yet given me a name. Who?"

"Oh, I know where those two mongrels are." Mario's voice had taken on an edge. "Dead in their beds, for refusing to tell me where that masked freak is hiding. The African wouldn't even open is damn mouth when asked, and I believe the Gypsy told me to 'Fuck off, you pig-faced asshole'. Lovely last words."

My blood turned to ice.

I hadn't heard correctly.

I couldn't have heard correctly.

Carmelo spoke softly. "You killed them?" He paused, and his voice - and, likely, more - broke entirely. "You killed them? You've gone over the edge, Cardacci! This is...it's too far. How could you? They did nothing to you, you-"

"I will not be threatened, boy!" Mario roared. "I will not be made to fear in my own home!"

"As we fear in ours?" Carmelo continued.

Giovanni tried to maintain composure, but I could hear a tear in his resolve as well. "Erik left us the moment my daughter died. She was like a sister to him, and he couldn't take the heartbreak. Went back to France."

"It wasn't him you saw," whispered Carmelo.

Mario gave a shout of frustration. "Lies! Antonio."

A gunshot, extremely close by. Deafeningly loud, even where I was hidden.

Giovanni's normally calm voice turned to a strangled cry. "Carmelo!"

But Carmelo did not respond.

No.

No, this couldn't be real. This was a nightmare, and when I would wake, my head would stop spinning and I would go down to breakfast and see Carmelo's smiling face. I would read with Salvatore and plan thefts with Vincenzo. I'd sit and talk with Giovanni. Perhaps I'd even be able to watch the sunset with Luciana-

"Now," said Mario lowly, "it's only you and me, Giovanni. Wish to tell me his whereabouts, or care to meet the same fate as your son and two dogs upstairs?"

"You took my son." I heard Giovanni fall - I imagined to his knees, beside Carmelo. Never mind his bad leg. His voice wavered. "You took him."

"Just as you took Isabella."

"Isabella was a tragedy for both of us!" Giovanni sobbed. "And now I have nothing left of blood."

"Where is he?"

"There isn't anything else you can threaten me with," he continued with an uneven, shaking tone. "Should I tell you where Erik is, I will lose the last family I have. So what, exactly, is your bargaining chip?"

"I swear to God, Billisi, if you don't tell me where that fucking boy is, I will not hesitate to kill you. And then find and kill him."

"Go fuck yourself. I will not betray him."

"Antonio."

If you are going to choose to die, die for something bigger than yourself.

A gunshot sounded once more - and only once more.

Giovanni was silent.

My ears rang. I felt nauseous. I couldn't breathe.

If you are going to choose to die, die for something bigger than yourself.

"Drop your weapon," said Mario softly. "When the police arrive - which they surely will soon - we tell them we acted in self-defense. Leave weapons in the African's and the Gypsy's rooms as well. They'll believe me. They always do."

"Yes, Signor."

I wanted to cry. I had to cry. I had to expel the terrible ache that was building inside me. But I had to stay silent.

"And comb the city. That boy can't have gotten far. When you find him, end him."

"Yes, Signor."

And when they were gone from the basement, I doubled over and expelled everything from my stomach.

The rest of my family wiped out in minutes.

Nothing - I had nothing.

I sobbed, falling to the ground.

I wanted to die. I wanted to stay here in the dark and die, rotting into the corpse that my visage told the world I was. No one would ever find me again, and I would fade from existence. I would disappear; there was no one left to care about me, no one left for me to care about.

Carmelo's smile.

Vincenzo's smirk and wink.

Salvatore's understanding eyes.

Luciana's radiant laugh.

Giovanni's gentle, paternal tone.

Turned to ash.

They'd joined Cerberus. Marie. Sasha.

And all had one thing in common.

Me.

I was a harbinger of death. I was cursed. I killed anyone who had the bravery and kindness to look at my evil, damned, disgusting, monstrous face and still made the active choice to love me anyway. I killed anything I cared about that cared in return.

So I would shut my eyelids and lie here. I would wait for death to claim me too.

If you are going to choose to die, die for something bigger than yourself.

I opened my eyes.

I couldn't. As much as I wanted to, as much as everything in me screamed to let me end everything forever, I couldn't do that.

My family died to save me, and I couldn't allow myself give up. No, if they knew what I wanted to do, they would look at me in shame.

They'd want me to keep going.

They'd want me to march on.

I'd do it for them. Even as tears streamed down my face, even as my stomach knotted itself so tight I thought it would never loosen, I knew that I had to keep living for them. But I could never love anyone again - and if I did, I had to pray they didn't love me in turn.

So, like the venomous spider I was, like the ghoul I looked to be, I escaped without a sound.

Like with Cerberus, I refused to look at Giovanni's body, or Carmelo's. It would destroy me. I waited for the police to arrive, to look at what happened, to speak to the men and Mario. I waited for everyone to at last leave. I made my way to the stairs, ensured that no one was watching, and left.

And I couldn't look back. I couldn't stop. I had to move.

Don't think. Don't think. Don't stop. Don't think.

As though my stay at the Fox Den Inn had been just that - a stay - I continued my journey east. This hadn't been an endgame, it hadn't been a happy ending. It had been a detour, and now I needed to get back on course.

Don't think, Erik. Don't think.

Just go.