Part Three
The train ride to Venice was blessedly uneventful, but that did little to quell Bucciarati's trepidation the closer they got to their destination.
Once they disembarked the train, everyone looked around in awe at the city.
"Man, it's been a long time since I've been to Venice," Mista said wistfully. "Too bad we don't have time for some sight-seeing."
"Unfortunately, we do not," Bucciarati said firmly as he turned to his men. "Do not let your guard down yet. We still have orders to follow."
"What are they, Bucciarati?" Fugo asked. "You never told us what we were supposed to do once we got to the city."
"Capitano Pericolo instructed that I not look at the orders until we got to Venice," Bucciarati informed him as he reached into his coat and pulled out the nondescript envelope. The other Hunters watched with anticipation as he opened it and pulled the letter out.
His eyes widened with some surprise as he saw an unmistakable seal at the bottom.
"What is it?" Abbacchio asked.
"This…it's directly from the Boss," Bruno replied, and cleared his throat before he read. " 'Bucciarati, thank you for seeing my daughter to me. I request that she is delivered personally into my arms. To do so, you will come to the church on San Giorgio Maggiore, and meet me in the bell tower. Only one member of your team will escort my daughter and shall bring no weapons on their person. The rest of your team shall stay in the boat until my daughter is seen safely to me. Any failure to comply to these rules will be punished swiftly.'"
He could see the tense looks on the others' faces as he finished reading the instructions.
"Kinda strict, don't you think?" Narancia muttered.
"The Boss has his reasons for anonymity," Fugo told him.
"Indeed," Bruno added, before he turned to Mista. "Mista, take Narancia and hire us a boat. The longer we wait here the longer Trish is left open to the public eye."
He glanced toward the girl as he said it, standing a little bit away between Giorno and Abbacchio, covered in a hooded cloak. She had her hands clasped in front of her and her head down, but he could see the tense set to her shoulders. He didn't think she had slept the night before, and frankly he couldn't blame her. He truly felt awful for everything she had been through, especially now that he would be leaving her with a man he didn't trust himself.
Once Mista and Narancia got them a boat, the team of Hunters made their way to the canal.
"Don't fret," Bruno told Trish quietly as he helped her onto the gondola. "It will all be over soon."
She glanced at him briefly, and then went to sit beside Giorno in the middle of the boat. Bucciarati pressed his lips together and climbed into the front as Mista took up the pole at the back and started them on their way to the final destination of their mission.
Everyone was silent as they made their way toward the island. Bucciarati caught Giorno's eye once and a look passed between them. They both knew well enough that this was likely the only opportunity they might get to find out anything about the Boss. Bucciarati was determined to make the most of it, no matter the risk.
The Island finally loomed in the late afternoon sun, the bell tower of the large church a regal silhouette against the sky. Trish glanced up at it as if perhaps trying to see if her father was visible, but quickly looked down.
Mista tossed a rope to anchor them in place as they pulled up to the docking area.
"Bucciarati," Giorno spoke up before he could give any orders. "I'd like to offer myself to be the one to escort Trish to the Boss."
"Why the hell would you be the one to do that?" Abbacchio growled at him. "The Boss barely even knows you exist."
"I only offer because in the case of an attack, I'll have a better chance of recognizing any supernatural adversaries—or being able to tell if there's more than one person inside."
"Thank you, Giorno," Bruno said quickly before an argument broke out amongst his men. "But I will be the one to accompany Trish to her father." He stood and stepped out of the gondola, taking off his sword belt and removing the daggers from inside his coat before handing them all over to Abbacchio. "I trust that all of you will stay on the boat until I get back?"
Abbacchio reluctantly took his weaponry, holding the sword tightly in one hand. "I'll keep them in line," he promised.
Bruno nodded and then held out his hand to Trish. "Are you ready?"
"It doesn't really matter if I am, does it?" she asked, but briefly took his hand as she stepped onto the island, allowing her skirts to settle around her with a rustle of crinoline.
Bucciarati felt another pang in his heart for her as he nodded toward the church. "Let us be off, then."
Upon entering the cool interior, Bucciarati paused briefly to glance around, but there didn't seem to be anyone anywhere nearby. It was almost eerily silent, only the sound of their footsteps clicking across the tile floors. He turned in the direction the bell tower should be and continued until they came to the staircase.
"Here we are," he said to Trish, looking upward at the spiraling stairs. "Your father is waiting at the top."
He was surprised to glance over and find her no longer at his side, but instead, crouching in a nearby corner, arms wrapped around her knees.
"Trish?"
"What's going to happen to me?" she whispered, and he could see her shaking, her eyes wide with terror, her indifferent façade finally crumbling away.
"What do you mean, mi cara?" he asked softly.
She let out a shuddering breath. "I just barely buried my mother before I was taken away by a bunch of Hunters who tell me I need to go to my father for my own safety. I was nearly assassinated on a train! I've only ever lived a quiet life on Sardinia—I'm no one special! I was just getting ready for my debut, hoping to find a husband with prospects, and now I'm in Venice, being handed off to a father I've never met! I won't even be able to visit my mother's grave." She let out a soft choked sound and buried her face in her hands. "What happens now?"
Bruno's heart broke yet again, seeing her terror and the uncertainty surrounding her position. How similar he had felt after his father's death, terrified as he made his way to Polpo's door in Napoli to beg to be taught how to protect others from similar tragedies. To be given a purpose again after his entire life had been shattered.
He crouched beside her, offering her a handkerchief from his pocket. "I'm afraid I cannot offer you any exact details, but I know that you will at least be safe with your father, and that he will see to your needs and create a new life for you here. It may be quiet, and you will have to be careful now that your position as the daughter of the Boss of Hunters is known, but I hope that you will find contentment, and perhaps, someday, happiness."
She didn't reply but he reached out, offering her his open palm, the only thing he could give in that moment. "Here. Take my hand."
She looked up at him, emerald eyes wavering slightly before they hardened once again and she pushed herself upright, brushing his hand aside. "No. I'm not afraid," she said firmly as she strode toward the stairs, passing him with a swish of skirts. "Let's—let's do this. You have to finish your escort mission, don't you? I will…perhaps I can even ask my father to reward your team for your service."
Bruno gave her a soft smile and took the stairs with her a pace behind him. They had only ascended a few steps before he felt fingers tentatively wrap around his own. He shifted his hand to fully enclose Trish's in his, squeezing reassuringly.
"I-I wonder," she said quietly. "If I'll grow to love my father."
Bruno glanced back at her. "Family shouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing," he said, trying to sound reassuring.
"I suppose you're right," Trish said. "Silly to worry, isn't it? I can't change anything now. I suppose I should just be grateful he wants me at all."
Bruno felt her fingers slip from his own again and continued a few steps before the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He stopped and turned.
Trish was no longer behind him. In fact, she seemed to have simply disappeared.
"What the hell?" he murmured, then called "Trish!"
There was no reply, he ran back down the stairs, hoping to catch her. Had she fled? Lost her nerve? What had happened? Was there an enemy they'd missed?
He made it to the landing and looked around frantically for any sight of the girl. "Trish!"
A small spot of red against the floor caught his eye and he crouched, tapping his finger into it and spreading it across his glove. Definitely blood—was it Trish's?
Another spot near the wall had him frantically searching the area, looking for any place Trish could be hidden, or any rout someone might have absconded with her. That was when he caught sight of the slight bump out in part of the wall above the spot of blood. Was it…a hidden passage?
Bucciarati started pressing against the wall and something clicked, opening a small passage that led to another staircase.
Bruno hurried down them, and slammed through the door at the end. Within the shadows ahead he could see a dark figure ahead of him, carrying a seemingly unconscious Trish in his arms.
"Hey!" Bruno shouted, hurrying toward the figure. "Release the girl!"
The figure ducked around a column and disappeared into the shadows. Bruno dashed after him before realizing the figure had seemingly disappeared. Bruno froze, pausing against the huge column to get his bearings as he looked around for the enemy. They seemed to have made it into the church's catacombs, the only lights a couple of torches near the stairs, casting too many shadows. There were all too many places to hide here, and Bruno's Hunter instincts were blaring in warning.
He caught sight of a pale shape on the ground and cautiously moved in that direction.
He glanced around another pillar and saw Trish lying on the ground, no one else around. Despite his better judgement, he rushed toward the girl, hand hovering over her mouth. Relief surged through him as he realized she was breathing, but as his fingers felt for a pulse in her neck he discovered a small nick as if from a stiletto or small knife. Drugged then?
"Who would do this?" he growled, beginning to gather Trish into his arms before he caught a shadowy figure slipping between the pillars.
He glanced down to the top of Trish's boot that had been exposed by her skirts as she fell, the glint of her dagger hidden there.
"Apologies, Trish," he whispered as he grabbed the blade, tucking it up against his wrist before he stood slowly.
"I know you're there," he spoke into the shadows. "Show yourself, you bastard."
"I appreciate your dedication in getting my daughter to me, Bucciarati," a deep voice spoke from behind a pillar to the left. "But your job is finished and the time has come for you to leave."
A chill washed through Bruno as realization crept in. "Is—is this your doing, Boss?" he asked quietly.
"Leave now while you are still able, Bucciarati. If you do not, then I will be forced to take your life."
Bruno froze, fingers tightening around the hilt of the dagger. "I don't understand. What are your intentions with the girl?"
"I would advise you not to trouble yourself with my family issues. They do not concern you. Do not make them your problem."
"Swear to me that you do not intent to kill her then," Bucciarati said firmly.
A chuckle, this time from a pillar behind Bruno—how had he…?
"You know, Polpo spoke so highly of you, and I'll admit that I had deep respect for your prowess and devotion to your job as a Hunter up until this moment. Tell me, Bucciarati, did you plan on confronting me before you got here, or was the deciding factor me stealing away what you rightfully delivered to me?"
"Once Trish regains consciousness, I'll make sure she knows why you truly wanted her here. Or perhaps, I'll simply tell her that you never existed at all."
"Why bring her into this?" Another sudden shift to the Boss's location. Bucciarati tilted his ear in that direction but made no move, trying to figure out what was going on, how he was moving so quickly. "My daughter is of no concern to you, as I said."
"You bastard," Bruno spat, unable to help himself another second. "You could never understand what's in my heart—the lengths I go to to protect the innocent. Especially those who I was charged to guard."
"And now your mission is over. She is no longer your problem."
"At least show me your face!" Bruno yelled into the darkness, hand sweating on the hilt of the dagger. He hadn't felt this terrified since the night vampires had attacked his childhood home. Why the hell was he feeling like this now? Not the Hunter, but rather, the cornered fox. "Where are you, fiend!?"
"I'm afraid I cannot do that."
The voice came from directly behind Bruno along with a brief gust of displaced air. There was not even time for him to turn before a hand clamped around his throat and pulled him backwards.
Agony exploded through Bruno's middle, as something was driven through him. First the sensation of cold steel tearing through his insides, then heat as blood pooled around it.
Bruno looked down in shock, unable to fully comprehend the blade sticking out of him, dripping blood in soft plops onto the floor below. Bruno let out a strangled gurgle, completely frozen, body going into shock.
Fell breath with the smell of death grazed his cheek as his attacker, the man he served, leaned in. "Think of this as a gift—a farewell gift from the heart," it whispered. "In a moment, you will cease to exist so I will allow you to see a little secret about what I am."
Bruno gasped in shock as two sharp points sank into the back of his neck, followed by a burning sensation spreading through him.
"Y-you…" he croaked, shaking now in this monster's grasp. "You're a—"
"Yes, I am." Words muttered against his skin. "And yet I am so much more that you can ever imagine."
Bruno blinked, dizzy at the rush of sudden heat pooling through his veins, and barely saw the hand approaching, lace cuff pushed aside to expose dripping blood. Slippery cold skin was pushed against his mouth, the taste of copper invading his senses until he couldn't breathe.
And then it was gone and the creature behind him once more gripped the hilt of the sword pressed to Bucciarati's back. "Your mission as protector has been terminated, and your life shall promptly follow it. Now may the fires of Hell embrace you."
Giorno kept an eye out on the surrounding canals as he listened to Mista and Narancia bickering on the other end of the boat. He couldn't deny that he had a bad feeling about Bucciarati going in there alone, he just couldn't entirely explain why.
Abbacchio and Fugo seemed to be of a similar mind, both of them silent and pensive as Fugo cleaned his spectacles and Abbacchio looked toward the church.
A sudden wind kicked up then out of nowhere. Two cats that had been eating fish up on the dock hissed and ran off. That was when Giorno noticed it.
He swiftly spun toward the church, looking upward at the bell tower as his nostrils flared.
"Giorno? What is it?" Fugo asked him, looking up as Giorno suddenly stood.
"Something's wrong," he muttered, inhaling the breeze more deeply. There was no denying it, the scent was obvious and strong. "We need to get in there."
He had one foot on the dock before Abbacchio reached out and grabbed the back of his coat to yank him back.
"Hold on, you heard the orders, didn't you?" the older man demanded. "We're all supposed to stay in the damn boat."
"You don't understand, that scent on the breeze just now? Vampires."
Everyone looked up in alert as he said it, Narancia and Mista instantly cutting off whatever argument they'd been having to reach for weapons.
"Wait, what?" Mista demanded.
"Are you sure, Giorno?" Fugo asked.
"I'm positive, it's impossible to mistake." The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as he finally leapt out of the boat onto the dock. "I'm positive something's wrong. Bucciarati and Trish could be in grave danger—we need to get in there."
"Now wait a damn second!" Abbacchio snapped, reaching for him again, but Giorno swiftly evaded him, already rushing toward the church.
Whatever was going on in there, Giorno's instincts were screaming at him, telling him that it was something dark, and old, and extremely dangerous. And Bucciarati and Trish were caught in there with whatever it might be.
The sword was ripped free in a spray of blood and Bruno cried out in agony, collapsing on legs that refused to work, choking up blood. He desperately tried to press a hand to the hole in his middle to stop the bleeding, but there was blood everywhere—pools of it, soaking through his clothing and gloves, drenching the catacomb floor.
The enemy behind him faded into shadow and broke apart into dark winged shapes that tore away before a figure reformed out of the creatures beside Trish, staring down at the unconscious girl.
"St-stay away from her!" Bruno snarled, shoving himself up, the dagger still clutched in his hand as he surged forward, knife raised for attack—as useless as it might be.
The figure distorted in how swift he moved, and Bruno suddenly felt a grip to the back of his coat before he was flung aside, careening into one of the pillars and smashing into it with a dull impact.
He cried out, crumpling to the floor as more of his blood sprayed around him, staining the pillar and floors. The dagger had clattered somewhere in the shadows, but Bruno could barely even move at the moment. Could only watch in horror as Trish's father knelt beside her.
"Now that I am seeing you in the flesh, there's not a shadow of a doubt that we are, indeed, connected by blood," the muttered, reaching out to brush Trish's hair off of her face. "I feel it in my blood and bones that you, child, are my daughter."
Bruno choked up more blood as he tried to push himself onto his hands and knees.
"Unfortunately," the Boss continued. "You are only a weakness, a mistake I should never have allowed myself to make. After all, a dhampir is aberration enough, but a dhampir with the blood of a Vampire Lord is truly an abomination that cannot be allowed to exist."
"No, Trish!" Bruno screamed and yanked the crucifix from his coat, ripping the hidden top off and pushing himself to his feet in a last-ditch effort. He swung, stabbing the revealed needle into the vampire's back as the creature made to kill Trish with the sword still coated in Bruno's blood.
The vampire staggered slightly under the blow then froze, twitching, as a sound of pain escaped him.
"Quicksilver," Bruno spat, reaching up to wipe the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "It's nasty, but effective."
The Boss finally spun around, showing Bruno a feral face and crimson eyes as he snarled, fangs glinting. He then exploded into dozens of bats again, swarming upward into the vaulted ceilings with unholy screeching.
Bruno collapsed on his knees next to Trish and hauled her into his arms, heaving her up with a cry of pain and desperation.
"If you think…that my mission as protector is finished, Boss…then think again—she will be protected under my mandate!" he gasped out as he staggered toward the stairs, legs giving out. He just barely stopped himself from falling on Trish as he gasped for breath, every gulp of air sending agony through him. He choked, coughing up more blood.
"Come on," he growled to himself. "Just get out of here. That's all you have to do. Just get Trish out of here…"
The quicksilver would not last long, especially on a vampire as powerful as the Boss appeared to be, and Bruno had no other options but to run.
He forced his legs to hold him, staggering up several more steps.
"It's amusing how you think you can run away." The voice echoed through the catacombs and Bruno looked out, eyes widening in terror as the shadows seemed to be deepening, the darkness encroaching further. "I'll give you one last chance to leave my daughter and scamper back to your team—we can even forget all of this happened."
"Never," Bruno snarled, curling around Trish protectively. "To think I serve a man who would kill his own daughter because she might out him for what he really is—it makes me sick." He gritted his teeth as he forced himself up several more steps, hauling Trish with him. Just a little further.
"Then die with her."
Bruno glanced up and seeing what he was looking for, slammed his shoulder into the wall.
The passage opened and he ducked inside, hauling Trish with him.
They stumbled out onto the staircase landing in the main area, the beautiful stained glass casting prismatic shadows across the church in the light of the setting sun.
Bruno collapsed with Trish beside him, knowing they were safe here for now while the sun was piercing through the church. He coughed up more blood, insides protesting. He groaned, gripping the bloody front of his coat and fought to stay conscious, if only for another second. He had to warn the others…he had to make sure that they got away. That Trish got away…
"Bucciarati!"
The voice sounded so far away. Bruno blinked his eyes back open to the echo of footsteps pounding across the marble tile. Blond hair and worried green eyes came into focus as Giorno skidded to his knees beside him, hand pressing against his stomach.
"Bucciarati! What the hell happened?!"
He started to rip Bruno's coat and shirt open to get at the wound, already pulling out a knife to offer his own blood. But Bruno mustered the last of his strength, reaching upward and grabbing Giorno with such intensity he startled the young man.
"Bucciarati?"
"Giorno, listen," Bruno attempted before choking on a mouth full of blood, and having to swallow it down before he continued, looking Giorno dead in the eye. "The Boss…he's…a Vampire Lord."
Giorno stared in utter shock, frozen as Bruno uttered those words. That was the last thing he saw before he was no longer able to hold onto consciousness and he slipped away into the waiting oblivion.
The crash of the window breaking sent his heart pounding as adrenaline kicked in, terror taking hold until he could only stand still, staring in horror at the monsters forcing their way past broken glass.
Hands took his shoulder firmly, shoving him away. "Run, Bruno! Run!"
Bruno staggered a few steps as his father grabbed a fire poker from the hearth and turned to face the vampires who now stood in their house. Mouths already covered in blood, from some sort of terrible rampage through the village.
They surged forward and Paolo met one with a punishing blow of the iron poker. The vampire staggered back and gave the man enough time to turn back to his son.
"Bruno, run, now!"
One of the other vampires leapt on him from behind, sinking its teeth into Paolo's neck.
"Papa!" Bruno screamed and suddenly everything went ice cold. He could move again, but he didn't run. He turned almost instinctively to the old sword that rested above the mantle and yanked it down, throwing the sheath aside. He surged toward the vampires with an almost feral cry, hacking, slashing, driving them away from his father. Until there was only blood. Rivers and rivers of it. Soaking his hands, splashing across his face, up to his ankles. The color crimson making him dizzy and filling him with this insatiable want as he viewed the destruction with a sudden, horrible pleasure—
Bruno surged awake with a gasp, clawing his way into a sitting position as his chest heaved with agonized breaths. The pain nearly made him pass out again, choking him, but he could feel his heartbeat slow as he continued breathing, washing away the nightmare and the blood, until he was just sitting in the dark in an unfamiliar bed.
"Bucciarati?"
He glanced up sharply, hand still pressed to the center of his chest, to see Giorno standing in the doorway, watching him with concern mixed with relief in his eyes. The younger man came into the room and crossed over to his bed, leaning over with a hand to Bruno's shoulder.
"Are you all right?"
Bruno took several more deep breaths, staring down at the blankets pooled in his lap. "I—I'll be all right," he finally managed to croak.
Giorno's concern furrowed his brow as he took a seat in a chair that had been pulled over to the bed. "I'm sure you're still in quite a bit of pain—your injury was grievous, it took a long time to repair even this much."
Bruno glanced over to see the bandage on Giorno's wrist under his rolled-up sleeve. "Thank you, Giorno. But I believe I'll be okay now. I'm a bit sore, but I think I'm healed up for the most part."
It would be a while before he forgot the feeling of the sword driving through his body, however. He really hadn't thought he would be getting out of that one, Giorno's healing abilities aside. He rubbed his brow tiredly, head aching.
But he had other concerns swiftly surfacing now that his mind was becoming less muddled. "Trish? Is she all right?"
Giorno nodded. "She's still sleeping. The Boss drugged her heavily, but Fugo says she'll recover soon enough."
Bruno rubbed his hands over his face, relief and fury surging through him again. "And the Boss?"
Giorno shook his head. "Gone by the time we got there."
Bruno's hand drifted down to rest over the spot where the Boss's sword had pierced him, rubbing against the bandages bunching underneath his shirt. "Where are we now?"
"A vineyard outside of Venice," Giorno informed him. "Fugo said this place was often used as a safehouse. I'm not sure how long we will be safe here, but we figured it was better than nothing."
Bruno nodded, placing the location.
There was a pause of silence before Giorno nearly blurted, "What you said back in the church—it's true, isn't it?"
Bucciarati vaguely remembered lying on the floor, bleeding out with Trish unconscious beside him. Giorno rushing over, tearing his coat open to pour blood over his wound. Grabbing the younger man with the last of his strength and uttering the words he couldn't quite believe himself.
"Yes, it's true," he said quietly. "Our Boss is indeed a Vampire Lord."
Giorno let out an exhale of breath as if he had been holding it the whole time. He hunched, pressing his knuckles to his mouth in thought.
"Then Trish is…"
Bruno nodded slowly. "Yes. A dhampir. But…I don't think she's aware of that fact yet." His fist clenched in the sheets, the fury returning. "That bastard was going to kill her without her even knowing why," he growled before looking up to meet Giorno's eyes. "I want him dead, Giorno. This whole time, the Boss I served was only acting as a detriment to the justice I fought to uphold for his own personal gain. It makes me sick."
Giorno nodded, eyes cold. "I feel the same. But what do we do from here? Taking out a Vampire Lord is not the same as even fighting old Vampire aristocracy. They have unimaginable power. We won't be able to do this alone."
"No," Bruno agreed. "We will need help. Starting with explaining everything to the rest of the team."
Giorno nodded.
Bruno pushed the covers aside and shifted his legs over to the side of the bed. "I'm going to clean up and then we can talk. Please gather the others."
Giorno nodded and stood to leave the room.
Bruno pushed himself to his feet and made his way over to the small vanity that sat in the corner of the room. He poured water into the waiting washing bowl and leaned over to splash some on his face, before he simply leaned against the vanity, staring at himself in the mirror for a long moment, looking for any changes.
He sighed and tugged the shirt over his head, unwinding the bandages from around his middle to reveal a pink, puckered scar just under his ribcage. He touched it cautiously, but decided to wrap himself up again, the skin still too tender to rub against his shirt.
There was the other nagging pain just on the back of his neck that he wanted to ignore, but couldn't.
He reached up to the spot, feeling the small scabs under his fingers before he turned slowly and pulled his fingers away, glancing behind toward his reflection.
Two small, crimson dots pierced the skin right at the back of his neck. Perhaps the most insignificant injury he had ever received and yet the one that terrified his the most.
He took a shuddering breath and spun around swiftly, grabbing a fresh shirt someone had left lying over the back of the chair, making sure the collar covered the area.
Perhaps it had all been a hallucination. After all, he had been bleeding out, nearly dead. His mind might have been playing tricks. Though even now he was positive he could still recall the slippery press of the Boss's wrist to his mouth, the taste of blood on his tongue…
Bruno viciously tugged his fingers through his tangled hair, forcing it into some sort of semblance. He didn't bother with a waistcoat, simply pulling on his trousers and boots before he headed down to meet with the others.
He found them gathered in the kitchen, tea and some sandwiches spread out on the table. Everyone's eyes turned toward him with relief as he came in.
"Hey, good to see you up," Mista commented with an encouraging smile.
"Yeah, you had us really worried," Narancia added, eyes wide.
"How are you feeling?" Fugo asked.
Bucciarati waved them off. "I will be fine, thanks to Giorno. We have other issues that need to be discussed."
"Yeah, they do," Abbacchio said from where he leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. "Did you know about the Boss before this?"
"I did not know that he was a vampire, no," Bruno admitted.
"But you suspected that there was more to everything going on."
"I did. For a while."
Abbacchio's lip curled. "So, what? You went to Nero instead of your own team! Dammit, Bruno, you didn't think we deserved to know? Especially before we waltz right up to the Boss himself and he nearly kills you and the girl we assumed we were supposed to protect instead of deliver to her execution?"
"It was safer for all of you to be kept in the dark until I was sure of what was going on," Bruno said firmly. "I didn't want to sow deceit until I was sure that it was the Boss who was responsible for the corruption."
"And what now, Bucciarati?" Fugo cut in. "Are we traitors then? Because we've gone against the Boss's direct orders and run away like fugitives. We all have targets on our backs now!"
"And I'm afraid there's little that can be done for that," Bruno said darkly. "Whether we had completed the mission of not, I feel now that we were chosen with the sole purpose of being disposed of. I have no doubt now that Squalo and Tiziano were hired by the Boss himself in the hopes that we would never have even reached Venice."
"Exactly, which is why it would have been nice to know a little of what we were getting into before going on this mission!" Fugo snapped.
"I did not intent to betray the Boss on this mission," Bruno defended. "I only wanted information. But what would you have had me do, Fugo? Stand aside and watch him kill his own daughter?"
"Of course not, but don't you think we deserved to know what we were walking into?"
"Bucciarati's right, this was only intended to be an information gathering mission on that front," Giorno cut in. "And the more people who knew that would have made it more dangerous for all of us."
"Hold on, are you telling me you knew this whole time?" Abbacchio demanded, stepping forward to grab Giorno by the lapel, glowering into his face before turning back to Bucciarati. "Why the hell would you tell him and not the rest of us?"
"I overheard him speaking with Nero," Giorno admitted. "But I had already intended to investigate the unjust killings happening in the supernatural world. Like Bucciarati I was sure that there was more to it than we were led to believe."
Bruno felt a sudden wave of dizziness wash over him. His breath caught in his throat and the room spun around him. He grabbed his head with a soft groan as he started to topple.
"Bucciarati!"
"Hey, Bruno! What the hell?"
Hands caught and steadied him before he could collapse fully. Abbacchio called for a chair and he and Giorno lowered Bruno down into one a few seconds later as he caught his breath, head spinning a little less, though he still felt uncomfortably warm as if he had been taken with a sudden fever.
"What happened?" Narancia asked.
"What's wrong?" Abbacchio demanded, hand still gripping Bruno's shoulder.
He exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself enough to answer, waving the others away. "I'm fine. Just a little dizzy."
"He did lose a lot of blood," Giorno pointed out. "You probably shouldn't be out of bed yet."
"I don't really have the luxury of laying around," Bruno muttered, pressing a hand to his middle as pangs shot through him.
"Let me see it," Abbacchio said, motioning to the injury.
Bruno shook his head, starting to push himself up again. "No, the wound is closed already. Giorno did all he could. It will heal in time."
"Bruno."
"I said it's fine, Leone!" Bruno snapped sharply, making all of them start. He fought off another wave of dizziness as he pressed his hand against the table. "I'm going to get a few minutes of fresh air. When I come back we can discuss what we'll do from here."
He pushed past all of his concerned team-members and headed out the door that led from the kitchen out to the back garden.
It was sometime around mid-morning, he realized. He hadn't even realized he's slept through the night. He squinted in the sudden brightness, but sank onto a low garden wall, trying to steady himself. He pressed his fingers to the pulse in his wrist, feeling how erratic it was and trying not to be even more terrified by that fact.
The sound of the door opening behind him had him turning around with a silent sigh.
Fugo appeared, watching him carefully. "Are you all right?"
Bruno huffed a breath. "I will be fine, Fugo. But I can't afford the luxury of a decent recovery so I will suffice with just taking a moment alone."
Fugo didn't leave, however, and simply crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't blame you for what you did; your hands were indeed tied, but this team is all I have and if anything happens to any of them because of your rash betrayal…" He cut himself off, hands clenching in the fabric of his clothing.
Bruno exhaled slowly, looking up at the younger man. "I would never do anything to purposefully put this team in danger, Pannacotta, you know that. And yet the very nature of our profession is to face down dangerous situations. I assume you knew that when you joined my team."
"It's not about that, Bucciarati! It's about how flippant you are with your own life! You almost died—if Giorno hadn't gotten to you…" He shook his head. "I cannot stand to see you devolve into these kinds of rash decisions anymore, Bucciarati. I thought those days were past. I simply implore you to remember that you have people who rely on you, and who you could possibly drag down with you if the worst is to happen."
"It is on my mind every mission," Bruno told him sincerely. "Believe me."
Fugo looked away, jaw clenched tightly. "I swore my loyalty to the Hunters as a whole, not solely to you," he said finally. "I will not stand to be marked a traitor just by association. I hope you understand that."
Bruno frowned. "What are you saying, Fugo?"
"I'm saying that whatever you plan to do now, I am going back to Napoli tomorrow to resume work there. I am sorry, Bucciarati, but I have no interest in facing down a Vampire Lord who has a vested interest in taking us out. I am quite comfortable with my life now and do not wish to lose it. Nor do I wish to see my comrades die in front of me. I only pray that I will not have to be the one to order coffins for all of you when this is over."
The words hurt, Bruno couldn't deny that, but he could not fault Fugo for his line of thinking either. "You have the right to do whatever you wish, Fugo."
Fugo nodded, lip trembling briefly before he simply turned and made his way back inside.
Bruno slumped, head in his hands before he decided there was no point in putting this off any longer.
He stood and headed back inside where everyone except Fugo was still sitting, silent.
Upon his appearance, Mista got up and poured him a cup of tea. "Here, something warm will do you good," he said.
"Brandy would probably do him better," Abbacchio muttered.
Bruno wasn't entirely in disagreement, but he sipped the tea gratefully all the same. If nothing else, it at least banished the taste of blood lingering on his tongue.
"I assume Fugo told you his own plans," he said after a few moments of silence.
The others nodded and Bruno turned to meet each of their eyes around the table. "I will not fault any man for returning with him tomorrow."
Mista sighed and sat back in his chair. "With all respect, Bucciarati, I think you'll need all the help you can get."
"And Trish as well," Narancia added quietly. "She'll need support adjusting. I know what it's like to be rejected by your father—though, I guess mine at least never tried to kill me."
Abbacchio sat beside Bruno with a sigh, pouring a fresh cup of tea for himself. "If you think I'm leaving you to face that bastard alone, you're a damned idiot."
Warmed slightly by his comrades support, Bruno felt a little less tired. "I do appreciate it. But I am not planning on facing the Boss. At least not until we do more research. Find out exactly what might be effective against him. There's no point in even attempting to go up against him until we can find something that will give us a chance. Until that time, our priority is keeping Trish safe and away from prying eyes. We will find someplace out of the way to stay, where the Boss will hopefully not think to look for us. And while we're there, we do what research we can."
"Sounds as good of a plan as any," Mista commented.
"And what of Trish?" Giorno suddenly asked. "If she truly doesn't know that she is a dhampir, then do we tell her?"
Bruno tapped his fingers against the table in contemplation. "She is going through so much right now, I fear one more thing might push her over the edge," he said honestly. "However, it's also possible that the proximity of her father will have awakened the latent blood in her. You said your powers came as a child, correct?"
Giorno nodded. "Mine awakened very early, but that was a rare case. Usually dhampirism awakens during puberty but can take some individuals until their early twenties."
"What do you think, Giorno?" Bruno asked him. "Do you think she should know?"
Giorno stared into his tea in contemplation. "I think we should keep an eye on her for now," he said. "She's already going to have to deal with the fact that her father tried to kill her. But if she has questions, or she starts to show signs, then I think it is obviously only right to let her know. Especially if she starts craving blood."
The others all nodded in agreement.
"Then it is settled," Bruno said decisively. "I will start looking into a safe place and a way to get there undetected, but until then I think it is best to stay here and recuperate for a few days. We will keep watch, and when Trish wakes, I'll explain a little about what happened."
He took another sip of his tea, trying to steady himself and turn to rational thinking. But all he could focus on was the sensation of the Boss's fangs in his neck and the coppery taste of blood on his tongue.