Part 2
That evening Giorno showed up at the Hunters' Headquarters. It was a large mansion set on a bit of property on the outskirts of the city. Giorno was somewhat surprised by this, having expected that people of this occupation might take up more humble quarters, but maybe there was more money in Hunting than he had realized—or perhaps rich benefactors who had a reason to keep them comfortable.
After stepping up to the door and ringing the bell, he only had a moment to wait before he was greeted by Narancia.
"Hey, good morning!" the boy said.
Giorno quirked an eyebrow and Narancia grinned. "Morning for Hunters, I should say. We usually start working around now."
"Ah, that's understandable," Giorno replied as he stepped inside.
"Come on, I'll show you to the office," Narancia said. "Everyone else is there right now."
Giorno followed the boy further into the house. He could see that it was just as opulent on the inside as the outside, though it was a place that felt well lived in and comfortable.
The office Narancia showed Giorno to looked more like a war room. A huge map of the city was set up on one wall with different colored pins stuck into it. Surrounding it were several sections of tacked-up papers including scrawled notes, news clippings and photographs that looked to be open cases. Giorno caught sight of one section that seemed to be from an investigation on Leaky-Eyed Luca.
In the center of the room, several desks had been set up and Mista and Abbacchio were working there. Mista gave a wave when Giorno came in and Abbacchio glared darkly before pointedly turning back to his work.
Bucciarati was standing by the map, talking to Fugo, but he turned around when Narancia and Giorno came in.
"Welcome," Bucciarati greeted. "We're just about to get started for the night. Now that we're all here, Fugo, why don't you give the briefing."
Fugo adjusted his spectacles and glanced at the folder he was carrying. "Our current case is finding out what is killing flower girls in the west end of city. So far there have been four victims, all concentrated within a five-mile area." He pointed to the spot on the map that Giorno had been patrolling the night before. "After consulting autopsy reports, and running the bitemarks against the frequency of the murders, it appears we're looking for a vampire. Likely one who is either weak, or has…particular preferences."
Giorno set his jaw as Bucciarati turned toward him. "Giorno, do you have any insight into this case?"
Giorno tapped his chin. "Whoever the killer is, I think it's possible to consider that they might be someone these girls think they can trust."
"Interesting," Bucciarati murmured. "What makes you say that?"
"Word spreads on the street quickly," Giorno said. "Especially around those who make a living working on the street. Word goes out that flower girls are getting killed, they're going to be heading home early before the sun sets, on the lookout for suspicious people—men most likely. Someone they would consider dangerous. If they were approached by a woman or someone closer to their own age, then they would be more inclined to trust them and thus be lured to a place where the vampire could feed without notice. If someone was snatching them directly off the street then it's likely someone would have seen something."
Abbacchio let out a snort and muttered something under his breath, but Giorno ignored him.
Fugo hummed contemplatively. "You might actually be onto something. In fact, all the bodies were supposedly found hidden away in alleys, a bit far from the girls' normal posts for them to have reason to be there."
"Either way, they have been killing every few days and it's currently been two days since the last murder," Bucciarati said. "The vampire is likely to be hunting tonight." He turned to the rest of the room. "Abbacchio. I'd like you to take Giorno, show him the ropes."
"No," the silver-haired man said flatly.
"Abbacchio," Bucciarati snapped.
"I'm not hunting with someone I can't trust not to fang me in the neck if my back is turned."
Giorno bristled slightly, but he said, "I just fed last night, but even so, I can control myself. I'm used to going without."
"That's not the point," Abbacchio growled and stood up. "I'm looking into that black dog sighting the horse breeder called in about."
"Right," Bucciarati muttered.
Mista stood up next, grabbing a shoulder holster off the back of his seat. "I'll go with him, Bucciarati—if you don't need me for anything else."
Bucciarati's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thank you, Mista. Take Giorno to the armory first."
"Of course." Mista slung the holster on and motioned to Giorno. "Come on, let's get you suited up."
Giorno followed Mista down the hall and toward a flight of stairs that led into the cellar.
"Hey, look, I don't know what's gotten into Abbacchio lately, but I promise he's not really a bad guy. Don't let him bother you, though, he just doesn't trust people very easily."
"Maybe it's because I'm not really people," Giorno said with a hint of bitterness, remembering how often that idea had been hammered into his head with the crack of a belt.
Mista turned to look at him. "I don't know, to me you look like a normal person. So what if you have fangs sometimes? That doesn't make you evil. It's what you do that matters. I think Abbacchio will come around when he gets to know you."
"Maybe," Giorno muttered, not sure if he really wanted to get to know the Hunter. Though if he was going to be working with this team then it was probably a good idea.
They reached the end of the stairway and Mista pulled out a matchbook to light the lamp hanging by the door.
"This is where we keep all our weapons and kit and stuff," Mista said as he opened the door and Giorno looked around, eyes widening at the sight of all the knives and guns and bullets and other things—a lot of which would probably cause him to break out in a rash if he handled them too much.
"See anything you like?"
Giorno studied the weapons thoughtfully. "I don't know, I've never really had the opportunity to use anything like this before."
"Well, for tonight, we'll just make sure you have something you can protect yourself with. Later, I'd be happy to train you if you want to take up firearms."
"Hmm," Giorno glanced around thoughtfully, but his eyes landed on a saber like the one Bucciarati used. Mista saw him eyeing it and reached up to take it down.
"A sword is a good place to start for a beginner. Saber's a chopping weapon so you don't need a ton of skill if you're not going up against another swordsman. What do you think?"
Giorno accepted the blade as Mista handed it to him and drew it from the sheath, seeing the lamplight glint off of the silver blade. "I think this will work."
Mista grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go hunt some fangs then."
The darkness was already settling in as Giorno and Mista exited the cab they had taken to the location. Most people had already hidden themselves away for the night.
"So, how much hunting experience do you have?" Mista asked casually as they made their way down the street at an even pace, looking around for anything that might be suspicious.
"Well…not much in the way you probably go about it," Giorno admitted.
"Right of course, I assume you probably hunt for food," Mista laughed easily.
"Yes," Giorno replied slowly, still not sure where he stood with Mista. The man seemed affable enough, but he wasn't entirely willing to trust him. Giorno was not in the habit of trusting people. "I pick my targets though. So as far as investigation and finding people goes then I suppose our methods probably aren't that different."
"Good to know," Mista glanced down an alley where a cat ran around the corner. "For what it's worth, I trust you because Bucciarati does. He's a good judge of character. He's so good at reading people he could probably do a human lie detector act at a circus. He hand-picked all of us, you know. Hunting was never even a consideration for me as a career before Bucciarati."
"How did he find you?" Giorno asked.
"Got myself in trouble—bit off more than I could chew going up against a dhampir from an upper-class family. He and his friends were hurting a girl and that kind of thing really pisses me off. I tried to stop them and one of them came at me with a gun. Before I even knew what was happening I was grabbing the gun myself and firing. Of course…someone of my standing has little say in court against money so I was locked up. Bucciarati heard about it and pulled some strings to get me out and into his employ." He shrugged with a smile. "I owe him, but he's also a good friend—like a brother, you know? We're a pretty tight-knit group. Have to be, since we all gotta trust each other."
Giorno nodded, musing over Mista's words when he spotted a small shape hiding in the shadows ahead and halted, holding up a hand for Mista to do the same.
"Look," he said. "It's a girl."
"She's out late," Mista muttered worriedly. "You'd think she would be in by now. Unless…well you said it's possible the vampire could even be someone their own age, right…?"
"Let's go see," Giorno said and he and Mista walked toward the figure.
The little girl, who couldn't have been more than ten, looked up with terror as they approached, practically shaking. Mista instantly held his hands out and crouched down with a smile.
"Hey there, signorina. What are you doing out here so late?"
He glanced up at Giorno briefly, but Giorno could easily tell there was none of the slightly sweet scent of a vampire about her.
"She's fine," he murmured quietly.
"I—My friend was supposed to walk home with me, but…but she didn't show up!" the little girl said, eyes wet.
Giorno furrowed his brow and crouched beside Mista, pulling the posy he'd gotten from the flower girl the night before from his pocket with a flourish to hand to her. "Don't cry, signorina. We'll get you home and find your friend."
She sniffled as she took the flower, clutching it to her chest. "She…she wasn't even going to come out tonight—a gentleman paid her a lot of money the night before, but she just didn't want me to be alone…We weren't working that far apart!"
Giorno felt a pit form in his stomach as he straightened up, Mista doing the same. "It's all right, we'll walk you home tonight."
The girl suddenly seemed to realize her position and looked between them with fear, backing away.
"It's okay," Mista said quickly and pulled a card out of his pocket that showed the same crest Giorno had seen on the gate of the mansion. "We're hunters. And we're hoping this will be the last night you have to walk home scared."
The girl finally relaxed and nodded. "You—you'll walk me home?"
"Well…" Mista hesitated.
Giorno stepped forward and leaned in to speak quietly to Mista. "It's alright. I'll walk her back. You keep looking. We'll meet back here in around fifteen minutes?"
Mista hesitated again. "Yeah, I guess that would be okay."
Giorno nodded. "And remember, our killer is most likely a woman or someone younger."
"Right," Mista replied.
Giorno turned back to the girl and held out his hand to her. "Let's get going then. I'm sure your family is worried."
Mista didn't get far in his patrol before he spotted another figure rushing down the street and stopped when he saw the swish of skirts.
"Ah-signorina!" he called, taking off his flatcap to hail her.
She startled, but turned with a hand to her breast as she exhaled sharply. "Oh, you startled me, signore."
"My apologies, that wasn't my intention," Mista said. "Only, these streets aren't safe at night. I'm sure you're aware."
"I am, and I didn't intend to be so late," the woman bemoaned, looking around with a sigh as she readjusted the hat she was wearing.
"Please don't worry—do you live far? I'll walk you home, or call you a cab…"
"Oh, that would be wonderful, signore. I don't live far. Just a little further down."
"Well then, lead the way," Mista said gallantly as he strode off beside her.
As they walked Mista kept an eye on the surroundings, watching the lamplighters poke out of their hiding places to illuminate the streets for the night.
"I don't mean to be forward," the woman said hesitantly. "But should you not also be somewhere safe for the night?"
Mista let out a soft chuckle. "I appreciate your concern, signorina, but I have my reasons."
"Oh," she replied and then looked around before asking more quietly, "Are you, perhaps, a Hunter?"
Mista smiled and tugged on his cap. "You are sharp, signorina."
"Oh, well, I just noticed the crucifix under your coat and thought it was more likely that than a man of the cloth."
Mista laughed. "Well, you aren't wrong."
She let out a soft giggle. "I rarely am. Can't be too careful these days." She pointed. "That's me up there."
Mista accompanied her up the path to the door. That was when he finally noticed that there were no lights on in the place, and in fact, it looked rather rundown, like it wasn't even in use.
"Are you…you're sure you live here?" he asked lamely, starting to get a bad feeling.
The woman smiled sweetly, revealing sharp fangs hiding behind her red lips as she tilted her head back so that he could see her crimson eyes under the shadow of her hat. "Oh, I'm very sure, darling."
Mista reached for his gun and crucifix but the woman had him around the throat in a second, throwing him backwards so that he crashed through the door, taking it right off its hinges.
"I usually prefer younger blood—it's much sweeter—but my original quarry of the night escaped me. You will definitely sustain me for longer though, so I will thank you for that."
Mista tried to push himself up, but he was winded and dizzy from hitting his head. The vampire swooped in to straddle his waist, pressing him back into the wreckage of the door as she grabbed his wrists, squeezing with inhuman strength until he dropped his weapons with a groan. The vampire pressed his arms firmly to the ground so he couldn't move or fight.
"Now hush, darling. It will be easier if you don't struggle."
Giorno dropped the girl at her house to very relieved older siblings and hurried back toward the spot he had told Mista he would meet up with him again.
The Hunter wasn't there when Giorno arrived though, and he frowned, looking around, wondering if Mista had started following a new lead without him.
He could see a lamplighter making his way down the street though, and went up to him.
"Excuse me, signore, have you seen a man around? Taller than me, in a cap and brown coat?"
The man glanced back down the street. "Pretty sure I saw him walking with a woman a few minutes ago."
Giorno furrowed his brow. "A woman?"
"Yeah. See her out here late a lot. Keep thinkin' she needs to be more careful but no one seems to bother her. To be honest, every time I look her way it feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck myself."
"Mista," Giorno breathed in realization, "Which direction did they go in?" he demanded more loudly than he had anticipated.
The man looked slightly startled, but he pointed. "Down there…"
"Thank you!" Giorno replied and hurried off, one hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword at his hip.
He halted eventually, trying to get a better hold of himself. He couldn't panic now, if he didn't keep his head, it wouldn't do Mista any good. And the Hunter was equipped to handle these kinds of things, Giorno reminded himself. Still, if Mista had seen this woman as nothing but a damsel in distress, then he might be taken by surprise…
He closed his eyes and breathed in the air around him, trying to pick out the distinctive scent of vampire blood.
And suddenly, there on the breeze, he could detect what he was looking for.
He was about to head in that direction when he also picked up a rapidly beating heartbeat and the sound of a brief shuffle from close by.
He spun around and saw a bit of material disappear behind a pile of crates sitting outside of a local shop.
Cautiously, Giorno stepped around them, only to find a small figure huddled in the shadows, shaking in terror. He instantly recognized the flower girl from the previous night.
"Signorina, I thought I told you to stay home," he said.
She startled and blinked up at him. "Oh, it's you, signore. I..I just…"
Giorno smiled kindly. "Don't worry, I found your friend and took her home. She's safe."
The girl gasped in relief and suddenly surged up and threw her arms around Giorno's waist. He held her for a brief moment before he crouched and took her shoulders. "Can you tell me what happened?"
The girl rubbed her eyes. "It was a woman, she chased me, but I was able to escape and hide. She was…she had fangs—like a vampire!"
Giorno nodded. "Thank you, mi cara. Now, please, run home. I'll handle this woman. I promise she won't come after you again."
"Th-thank you, signore," the girl said and indeed ran off down the lamplit street.
Giorno hurried away himself, tracking the scent the vampire had left until he came onto what looked to be an abandoned house.
Giorno skidded to a halt and caught sight of the open door, seeing the figure of a woman looming over Mista's fallen form.
"Mista!" Giorno shouted, rushing forward as he drew his sword.
The vampire spun around with fury swirling in her eyes before they latched onto him and she stood with a chuckle, leaving Mista groaning on the ground.
"Well, this is a surprise. I didn't realize the hunter brought his pet. How dare you interrupt my meal, half-blood? I should finish you off first."
"I'm sure you know that dhampir blood tastes awful to vampires," Giorno said, holding the sword at the ready.
She snorted. "Oh, I'd never dream of drinking a little bastard like you. But maybe killing you would be a waste. After all, dhampirs do make good servants—and fetch a high price to the right bidder."
Giorno smiled coyly. "I'm afraid I will not be fetching anyone a price tonight, signora. I've been looking for you for a while now. I don't take kindly to those of our ilk who decide to take it upon themselves to use their superior power to hurt the innocent—especially children."
The vampire sneered. "A bleeding heart won't do you any good, halfblood. It will only get you killed in this world."
She lunged and Giorno barely got the sword up between them. She was fast. There was no doubt, but Giorno hadn't survived as long as he had without being quick on his feet. He stepped to the side and swung his sword, but she dodged and surged in again, knocking him off balance.
Giorno staggered backwards into a corner of the room, tripping over some debris.
The vampire sneered at him, fangs flashing. "Pitiful little thing. Can't even save your master? Like I said, all dhampirs are best used as pretty ornaments for the wealthy to flex their standing."
Giorno threw a piece of rubble as she strode forward. Unable to dodge in time, she tripped forward on the hem of her skirt.
Giorno rose, and drove the blade up through her chest, spearing her heart.
She halted with a horrified gasp, suspended there on the point of Giorno's sword. Then fury crashed over her and he lunged, impaling herself further as she made to tear Giorno's throat out with her teeth.
A gunshot rang out and hot blood and other matter exploded over Giorno. He blinked his eyes open in shock and saw Mista standing behind the vampire, pistol raised, chest heaving.
Giorno, cringing, angled his sword so that the vampire's body slid off of it.
"Thanks for the save," Mista said, lowering his gun.
Giorno nodded, taking a deep breath. "Likewise. Are you hurt?"
Mista reached up to rub the back of his head with a wince. "Bit of a goose egg. But I've had worse." He stepped forward and clapped Giorno on the shoulder with a grin. "Not bad for your first hunt. But your sword work is shit."
"Well, it is the first time I've used one," Giorno replied, glancing at the blood-soaked blade, before simply bending and wiping it off on the vampire's skirts. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to pay for my laundry. This is my only coat."
"Don't worry, we'll add laundering to your pay," Mista said.
"Pay?" Giorno asked, suddenly realizing he hadn't even considered that his consulting might earn him money.
"Of course!" Mista replied. "If you want the job, that is."
Giorno glanced at the sword, then back at Mista who was tucking his gun back into one of his many holsters.
"I think," he said slowly. "That I might actually like to take this job after all."
After Mista called for cleanup and a cab came to pick them up, Giorno's adrenaline was disappearing, leaving him tired and ready to sleep by the time they got back to the mansion.
That was when he realized he would have to head back to his apartment when he was still covered in vampire blood and brains.
Luckily Bucciarati swept in. "Let me loan you some clean clothing. I'll have yours laundered and get it back to you in a couple days. Our staff is used to dealing with stains of a more gory nature."
"I really appreciate it," Giorno said.
Bucciarati showed him to a washing room and promised to return with clothing soon.
Giorno cringed as he pulled off his coat and waistcoat. Both of which had taken the brunt. He supposed he would have to remember to wear older clothing on hunts from now on.
He bent over the bowl where hot water and towels had been left and began to wash his face and hair.
He was just pulling his soiled shirt off his shoulders when the door opened and Bucciarati appeared with fresh clothing draped over his arm.
He paused as Giorno glanced over his shoulder, freezing with his shirt around his elbows, suddenly realizing what the man was seeing. Shame instinctively flooded him but it was too late now to hide the scars that covered his back so he simply tossed the shirt aside.
Bucciarati tactfully spoke first, coming in and setting the clothes on a dressing rack. "My apologies. I should have knocked."
"It's all right. I appreciate you loaning me something," Giorno said quickly and took the fresh shirt, tugging it on.
Bucciarati bent to pick up the discarded clothing casually as if they weren't covered in gore. "Don't think you owe me an explanation. We all have our pasts that we have to come to terms with."
"It's not what you think," Giorno said, realizing he didn't want any misconceptions between him and Bucciarati. "I'm not a runaway slave."
Bucciarati frowned. "I didn't assume you were," he said. He didn't probe, but he left the path open if Giorno wished to continue.
Giorno finished buttoning the shirt and reached for the clean waistcoat in a dark blue—likely Bucciarati's, he assumed. "My stepfather did not like having a monster in the house and he made sure to remind me of my vampire side constantly," Giorno said without emotion, a well-practiced art. "As I said before, I'm well aware that not all the monsters out there are supernatural."
"I'm sorry that you had to find that out the hard way, Giorno," Bucciarati said softly and there was a sincerity in his voice that Giorno had rarely encountered. It made him wish that he could actually be a part of this world. That he might actually have a chance.
"Mista said that you did good tonight," Bucciarati said after a moment.
Giorno was a little surprised to hear that. "I only did what was needed in the moment."
"He said you saved his life."
"I got there in time."
"And made sure two young girls got home safely on top of that." Bucciarati studied him for a long moment until Giorno felt slightly uncomfortable, not entirely able to read his expression. "If I asked you to join my team full time and not just as a consultant, would you, Giorno?"
Giorno finished buttoning the waistcoat and stared at him. "I think I might."
Bucciarati smiled warmly. "Bene. Then I would like to offer you a full-time position as one of my Hunters, Giorno Giovanna. Come back tomorrow afternoon once you have rested and we'll settle things with Signore Polpo—he runs the Hunting factions in Napoli. Also, since we tend to keep such odd hours, it would probably benefit you to move in with the rest of us. You are welcome to bring your belongings with you tomorrow. I'll have the staff prepare a room for you."
Giorno's head was reeling as he took all this in. Not only would he now have a paying job, but he would have room and board as well. It looked like his pick-pocketing days were over.
"Thank you, Bucciarati," he said, sincerely.
"Welcome aboard," Bucciarati replied with a firm nod. "I'll see you tomorrow. There's a cab waiting for you out front."
Giorno headed back toward the foyer, bidding goodnight to Mista, Fugo and Narancia who were sitting in the parlor, Mista hissing in protest as Fugo prodded his skull.
He was about to reach for the door when he caught sight of a darkly-dressed figure coming down the stairs.
"Goodnight," Giorno called to Abbacchio.
The man didn't stop, nor did he dismiss Giorno this time. He strode directly toward him and shoved Giorno up against the corner beside the door, forearm firmly planted across Giorno's chest.
"Listen up, because I'm not going to say this again," Abbacchio growled, leaning in close, black-painted lips curling in a snarl. "Just because you work here doesn't mean you're part of this team. You're not, and you never will be one of us. You reek of bad luck, and I swear to you right now, Giorno Giovanna, that if you ever do anything that results in one of my comrades getting hurt or killed, I will personally cut your head off myself and bury you in holy ground so that you burn for eternity."
Giorno stared into his violet eyes for a long moment before he swallowed hard and nodded. "You've made yourself clear."
Abbacchio snorted, pressing him further back, but footsteps were heard and he finally pulled back reluctantly. "Don't forget it. Because I won't forget that you're just a monster wearing human skin like all the rest of them." He strode off just as Bucciarati appeared, calling to him.
Giorno ducked out the door toward the waiting cab, realizing that things may not go as smoothly with his new job as he had hoped.
