And here were are at this AU's version of the Notorious B.I.G arc! I had a pretty fun time changing this one up.
Also, full disclosure (not to spoil the story or anything) this is the exorcism from Supernatural-think of it as a nod to my past brainrots
Phantom Traveler
A JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Fanfic
(Vampire Hunter AU) On the run from the Boss, Bucciarati and his team leave Venice and travel by sea toward a safehouse. However, a mysterious stowaway might spell doom for the voyage when the team of Hunters mysteriously start to turn against each other.
Trish gazed longingly out the window of her bedroom. They'd been at this villa for nearly four days now and she felt like she was going to go crazy if she didn't get out of here soon.
It wasn't that the others didn't try to accommodate for her—too much, in fact, practically walking on eggshells around her—but there was too much time in the day Trish was forced to spend pacing the hallways, thinking too much about everything that had happened.
The fact that she barely remembered any of if only made it worse.
The last thing she remembered before waking up at the villa was climbing up the stairs to the bellower with Bucciarati. Reaching out to take his hand in a moment of weakness. Then, the next thing she knew, she was waking up in a strange bed and Bucciarati was still there, looking frankly awful, explaining why she wouldn't be going to live with her father after all.
"He—he tried to kill me? Why?"
Bucciarati sat in the chair beside her bed, looking utterly exhausted. "I don't know."
Trish clenched her hands in the quilt bundled over her, trying to fight the dizzy feeling she was experiencing. "You don't know or you won't tell me?" she snapped.
Bucciarati looked away. "You are still in grave danger, Trish. We all are. Please allow me to get you somewhere we know is secure before I answer these questions."
"How is keeping me in the dark going to keep me safe?" she demanded, fury rising up in her. Done with this situation, done with her cryptic companions. "I almost died, Bucciarati! My father was going to kill me! And from the looks of it, he tried to kill you too. So I would appreciate it if you would cut the bullshit and tell me what happened!"
Her voice rose to a shout that echoed off the walls of the small room. She watched as Bucciarati opened his mouth, a small, strangled sound coming out as if he were going to say something, but then he frowned and cleared his throat. He stood, barely hiding a wince. "I beg you to bear with me just a little longer, Trish. I promise everything will be made clear in time."
Then he left the room, leaving Trish with only her tumultuous thoughts. Feeling so completely alone.
"I don't understand why they can't just tell me," Trish muttered to herself. "How much more danger can I really be in?"
But when even Narancia had refused to tell her anything, she realized she was just going to have to wait for whenever Bucciarati decided she deserved to know why her own father had almost killed her.
She pressed her hand to her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. She'd been having headaches and dizzy spells since she had woken up. Probably just a side-effect of whatever she had been drugged with, but it was growing tedious.
Frustrated and sick to death of being cooped up, Trish left her room and made her way downstairs, finding Mista sitting in the parlor, maps spread out on the small table in front of him.
He looked up with a friendly smile as she came in. "Can I get you anything, Trish?"
She raised her chin. "I'm just going outside for some fresh air." She started to make her way through the parlor, when Mista stood, getting up to block her path.
"Sorry, Trish, that's not really a good idea right now," he told her. "We're all trying to minimize how much we're seen."
Trish's hands clenched into fists. "Who is even around here to see me? I've been cooped up for days! I need some fresh air!"
"I understand, believe me, but it's for your own safety," the gunman told her firmly.
Trish's lip twisted slightly. "Let me outside, Mista."
To her surprise, Mista straightened, staring at her with a sort of blank expression and then stepped away with a small nod.
"Thank you," Trish muttered as she swished past him and headed out the door.
The mid-morning sun felt lovely and she breathed the countryside air in deeply. Absolutely heavenly after being stuck in the stuffy villa.
She picked up her skirts and hurried through the garden before finding a nice grassy spot to sit down in, collapsing with a poof of crinolines. A childish satisfaction surged through her, feeling like she had escaped her caretakers to go play in the garden—not entirely inaccurate.
Melancholy thoughts surfaced as she recalled picnicking with her mother as a child, lying in the grass and finding pictures and shapes in the clouds above. How she wished she could go back to being that innocent little girl. The girl with the doting mother and the father who was no more than a few dreamy and wistful memories shared by her mother when she was feeling nostalgic.
She didn't even know what her life was going to look like now. It had been one thing when she had thought she would be going to stay with her father in Rome. It might be different than what she had known before, but she could have still been in the public eye, perhaps even been introduced to suitors. But now, essentially on the run with a team of Hunters, she had no idea what her future looked like, though she was sure all of her prospects had completely flown out the window.
A sudden rustling in the nearby bushes startled her and she whipped around, staring at the spot the leaves were shifting. She held her breath a few seconds before a small shape crept out. Just a rabbit.
Trish relaxed, staring at the small creature as it went about its cautious foraging. The longer she stared the more she became aware of its almost too-fast heartbeat, somehow able to hear it from where she sat. How scared it made the rabbit seem even though it appeared outwardly to be calm. It truly was an animal that was meant to be prey. How easy it would be to hunt down. To grab hold of and drink its warm blood—
Wait, what was she even thinking? Where the hell had that come from?
"Trish!"
Trish startled along with the rabbit that finally bolted back into the bushes as Giorno approached.
"What are you doing out here? You know it's dangerous," he said.
Trish sighed. "I'm well aware, you all keep reminding me constantly. I just wanted some air—is that allowed?"
Giorno pressed his lips together firmly. "You understand that we cannot afford to be too cautious. Please come back inside."
Trish huffed and swatted away the hand Giorno offered to her, climbing to her feet. "Fine. I will return to my prison."
Bucciarati was chewing Mista out when they got back inside.
"Why did you even let her leave the house?"
"I—I don't know," Mista replied, sounding honestly confused. "She just left."
"I have her," Giorno called to them as they entered the room.
Bucciarati turned toward them instantly, with a look that was both exhausted and pleading. "There you are. Trish, please stay in the villa. I know it's difficult, but—"
"It's for the best, yes, I've been told—a thousand times! It's the only thing you've bothered to tell me," Trish snapped, pushing past all of them to the stairs. "I'll go back to my room and stay there. I promise."
She climbed the stairs and returned to her room, slumping on her bed, feeling like a reprimanded child. Another bout of dizziness struck her suddenly and she lowered her head into her hands, her stomach roiling sickly. She felt almost hungry, but the thought of any food made her feel even more ill. Perhaps she would just lay down for a little while.
Poor sleep over the last few days had made her exhausted and she fell asleep quickly, though her sleep wasn't at all peaceful. It was filled with half-remembered terrors and blood. Lots of blood. And the worst part of all was that she dreamt of consuming it with the utmost satisfaction.
Bucciarati made himself a cup of tea, rubbing his head against an oncoming headache. He couldn't really blame Trish for leaving the house, it was rather suffocating in here. Especially when he was blind to everything going on on the outside. He couldn't even contact Polpo to hear news, lest anyone figure out where they were.
He slumped at the kitchen table, taking a breather. He still wasn't fully recovered, he knew. That coupled with continuous nightmares had left him exhausted. He wished briefly that they were back in Napoli with all of their resources and supplies, but there was no way they could keep Trish safe there without the potential of innocents getting caught in the crossfire should the Boss send more men or monsters to kill them.
He heard the front door open and got up to go meet with Narancia and Abbacchio as they returned from their recon and supply run to the nearest town.
"Well, did you learn anything?" he asked them.
"We learned that we have problems," Abbacchio grunted.
Bucciarati followed them into the kitchen where they unloaded the groceries.
"I asked around the streets," Narancia told him. "A lot of the kids told me there were men asking about a girl with Trish's description, and yours too."
"My bet is that they're keeping an eye on all of the nearby towns," Abbacchio said grimly.
Bruno pressed his lips into a thin line. "What you mean is we're running on borrowed time here, then," he muttered. "Very well, I believe I have plotted a route that should get us out of here safely. If I can find a boat in time, we'll leave first thing tomorrow. You're sure no one followed you?"
"We checked multiple times and took a very roundabout way back," Abbacchio promised.
Bruno nodded and turned to Narancia. "Please gather the others. We'll have some things to see to before we leave."
Narancia threw a salute, and Bruno turned back to sorting out the supplies with Abbacchio.
"How are you, by the way?" the other man asked after a couple moments of silence. "No offense, but you look really rough."
Bruno sighed. "I'm fine."
"Bullshit."
"How would you be if you'd had your guts skewered, Abbacchio?" Bruno asked in exasperation.
The other Hunter held up his hands in defeat. "Fair enough. Still, sleep is a good step toward healing."
"Yes, and it would be nice if I could sleep," Bruno muttered, then sighed. "I'm sure I'll feel a little better once we find a place we can make a more permanent set up."
Abbacchio grunted. "Wouldn't that be nice."
To be fair, the injuries had healed with little trouble. Bruno was surprised to find that he didn't actually feel like he had been run through only a few days ago. It was the constant headaches, the random bouts of fever and nausea that could disappear just as suddenly as they came on.
And the nightmares. The nightmares were the worst. Some of them memories, some of them fabrications, but they all ended the same. With blood. Blood that he could not stop himself from consuming as if his life depended on it.
"Bucciarati! Hey, are you all right?"
Bruno blinked and started, glancing back up at Abbacchio, realizing he had been gripping a tin of coffee with enough force to leave finger-shaped dents in it. "I—I'm fine. Sorry, like I said, I haven't slept much."
Abbacchio flattened his lips into a black line. "Yes, you did." He cleared his throat. "I was just asking if we should put any of this away or just take it with us."
"If we're leaving tomorrow then there's no point in putting it away," he said. "Now, come on, let's go discuss our options."
It was eventually decided between them, that the safest way to leave would be by boat at dawn, negating the risk of any vampires being able to easily track them. Once at sea they would travel down the coast to an area Bruno was pretty sure no one would think to find them in. At least not for a while.
After they had made their plans, Bruno made his way upstairs to inform Trish.
He knocked lightly on her door. "Trish? May I come in?"
There was a muffled answer and he entered the room to find Trish sitting in a chair reading. She looked up briefly as he entered, then turned back to her book, obviously still giving him the cold shoulder. He sighed inwardly. He wondered if perhaps they should have told her everything after all. But, perhaps once they were in a safer location, then he could inform Trish about her true nature.
"We'll be leaving tomorrow, first thing," he told her.
"And where are we going? Or are you not going to tell me that either?"
Bruno sighed. "We'll be taking a boat down the coast. As for our exact destination, I have not fully decided yet. It depends on if we run into any trouble on the way."
"Very well," Trish replied, in obvious dismissal.
"Dinner will be soon if you'd care to join us," Bruno told her.
"I'm not hungry," she replied quietly.
Bruno frowned, taking a step closer to her. "Trish, hopefully once we get to our destination there will be a little more freedom for all of us."
"I understand that you are only trying to keep me safe," Trish cut in. "I know this situation is dangerous for all of you. But I'm not a child, Bucciarati. Whether it's for my own safety or not, I do not appreciate being kept in the dark."
"I know," Bruno said quietly. "And I promise I will tell you everything in time. When everything is a little more certain."
Trish didn't reply, ignoring him and Bruno finally turned around and left the room, truly feeling like he had his hands tied and not liking it at all.
They had a simple dinner and packed what gear they had on them. Bruno spent another sleepless night before they all arose before dawn and got ready to leave the villa.
"We'll go to the harbor and charter a boat," he explained. "It will be the safest way out of Venice."
The sun was rising as they got to the docks and Bruno had the others wait with Trish as he went to the harbor offices to inquire about a boat.
He was directed toward one captain who turned him down but after talking to several other people, he found a man who ran trade up and down the coast.
"If possible, I would like to rent the boat from you for my own use," Bruno explained.
The man eyed him up and down. "Gent like you know how to handle a boat like this?"
"I know enough," Bruno replied vaguely. "How much?"
The man rubbed his bearded chin. "Sorry, it's not about the money. I go with the boat, final offer."
"I'm afraid I can't allow another soul on the boat aside from my party," Bruno said. "Important business. Of a Hunting nature." He briefly pulled his crucifix from where he had tucked it into his waistcoat.
"I'll leave my crew in port if that makes you more comfortable, but I go where my boat goes," the man said firmly.
"I can pay handsomely," Bruno said, pulling out his banknotes. He'd at least thought to bring his emergency stash just in case it was needed.
"You won't sway me on this, signore."
"Come on, there must be some way to convince you," Mista said, coming up to stand next to Bruno as Abbacchio stalked up behind, hand firmly planted on the hilt of his sword.
The sailor folded his arms over his chest, nonplussed. "Don't bother threatening me, Hunter, no is no. Now if you please, I have work to do—"
"I don't think you understand, Signore."
Bruno looked up in shock as Trish stepped around Giorno and Narancia, pulling her hood down as she strode up to the man, determination on her face. "Trish, what are you—?" he demanded but she was already continuing.
"It is of the utmost importance that we leave now, and in secret. Coming with us would only put you in danger, do you understand? So let us have use of your boat and forget you saw us here."
"Signorina, I—" the man stopped and Bruno watched his face suddenly pale, before he nodded slowly. "I…I will. Of course, there's no problem." He turned back to Bruno. "How much were you offering?"
Bruno shook himself and wrote out the check. "How is this for compensation, signore?"
The deal was done in a few seconds and the Hunters took their gear and boarded the boat.
Bruno turned to Trish as she got on board. "That was rather impressive," he said with a raised eyebrow.
Trish flushed, looking away. "I…I don't really know why I did that."
"Well, all sailors are a little weak when it comes to women," Bruno said. "However, please do be careful showing yourself in public. You should go below until we're out at sea."
Trish sighed, but did as she was told, heading across the deck as Abbacchio helped her below.
Bruno caught Giorno watching her and wondered if he had the same thought. Between this and Mista letting her go outside the day before, Bruno was beginning to think that Trish's powers were well on their way to being awakened.
He didn't have time to think of that further at the moment though. The next few minutes were spent readying the boat for sailing and calling commands to the other Hunters, explaining what needed to be done. Bruno honestly felt better already out here in the sea breeze, fond memories of childhood coming back.
He took the helm, and watched the horizon as they made their way out into the rising sun. It was slightly overcast that day and he hoped it wouldn't turn into a storm later.
Giorno leaned against the railing nearby, an intrigued look on his face as he watched Bruno handle the helm. "I didn't realize you knew how to sail," he said finally.
Bruno gave a small smile. "I actually grew up in a coastal village. My father was a fisherman. I probably would have been one too, but he was killed by rogue vampires, which led me to becoming a Hunter."
Giorno furrowed his brow, a look of sympathy on his face. "I'm sorry about your father, Bucciarati. But for what it's worth, I think that you ended up where you were supposed to be."
"Perhaps you are right," Bruno said quietly. "Fate does have a funny way of doing that, doesn't it?"
They were both startled by Trish hurrying up onto deck with Narancia's help, staggering over to the railing with a hand held over her mouth.
"Trish? Are you all right?" Giorno called to her.
"Just…leave me alone," Trish moaned, white as a sheet.
"It can take a while to get your sea legs," Bruno told her kindly, glancing up toward the bow where Abbacchio had also been standing, stoically gripping the railing for the past fifteen minutes. "Giorno, would you check the galley—ah, the kitchen—and see if there's any ginger tea?"
Giorno nodded and headed below.
With the boat on course, Bruno tied off the helm for the moment and crossed the deck toward Trish. "I'm sorry you're feeling unwell. Let me see if we can make you a comfortable place to rest below. Sleeping off seasickness is the best thing for it."
Trish still had a handkerchief pressed to her mouth, but she allowed Bruno to take her hand and lead her back down into the hold. There were a few hammocks, but Bruno found the captain's quarters which had a small cot in it. Trish gratefully lay down, pressing the crook of her arm over her face.
"Giorno is going to try to find you something to settle your stomach," Bruno promised.
Trish moaned and he left, knowing there was little more he could do at the moment.
He was already on his way back to the deck when Giorno found him.
"Bucciarati," the dhampir said quietly, grabbing his arm and leaning close. "There's one extra heartbeat on board."
Bruno's eyes instantly widened. "What?"
"I think we might have a stowaway," Giorno said meaningfully.
Bruno nodded, hand instantly going for the sword hanging at his hip. "Gather the others down here. We'll make a thorough search."
Giorno hurried up on deck as Bucciarati looked around, trying to think of where someone would hide on board.
"What's wrong?" Mista demanded as he made his way down with the others, gun already in hand.
"A possible stowaway," Bruno replied. "Narancia, stay by the cabin door and make sure no one tries to get to Trish."
Narancia saluted and took up position with his pistol and knife.
Bruno motioned to the others. "Go—we search every corner."
Abbacchio drew his sword, staggering slightly as he swallowed hard. Mista jostled his shoulder. "Just don't throw up on him when you find him."
"Shut it," Abbacchio snapped. "This is why I hate sea travel."
"At least our stowaway is trapped with us," Giorno commented. "He's not going anywhere."
"Then let's hunt the bastard down and see what he's doing here," Mista said, cocking his pistol.
They spread out, searching the entirety of the boat below decks. They hadn't heard so much as a peep, when Giorno stopped, putting a finger to his lips and motioned to a corner where some leftover nets and empty crates were stored in one corner of the hold. Bruno signaled the others to surround the area and they all moved forward slowly, weapons ready.
A figure suddenly burst from the spot, startling all of them as it rushed Giorno who was in the lead with the glint of a knife in his hand.
"Mista!" Bruno shouted.
But the gunman already had his pistol at the ready, getting off two shots. The man crashed to the ground and lay still, blood pooling under him.
"Sorry boss, didn't know if you wanted him alive," Mista muttered as Bucciarati hurried toward the fallen figure, rolling him over and kicking the silver knife out of his hand.
"You did what you had to," he said.
"What happened, did you get him?"
Narancia hurried over, weapons ready.
"Yes," Bruno replied, searching the body but finding nothing on him. Odd. He inspected the man's hands, finding familiar callouses on them. "He seems to be a sailor. But I doubt he was here with innocent intentions. It's possible one of the Boss's men paid him off to stow away and cause issues. Perhaps even picking us off one by one."
"Not a great plan," Abbacchio grunted, sheathing his sword as he pressed one hand against the low rafters and the other to his stomach. "What do we do with the body?"
"Dump it," Bruno said decisively. "There's no point in keeping it around."
Mista nodded and waved to Giorno. The two of them took the body by the wrists and ankles and made their way up to the deck.
"I'll go check on Trish. The two of you head up on deck again. I want someone on watch at all times to make sure no one tries to follow us."
"I'll do it, I need the fresh air," Abbacchio grunted.
Bruno took one last look around the hold than went to the galley where he found some ginger tea and steeped a cup.
By the time he knocked lightly on the cabin door and peeked his head in, however, Trish seemed to be fast asleep, curled in the small bunk. Not wanting to wake her, he headed back up on deck and instead handed over the tea to Abbacchio, back to his position leaning on the railing.
"I can't…" the man groaned.
"It will help, just small sips," Bruno assured him.
Abbacchio took the tea with a sickly cringe and the two of them turned to where Giorno, Mista and Narancia were heaving the body over the side of the boat. It was about midday now, and still looking like a storm was brewing.
"Weird, isn't it?" Abbacchio muttered. "Sending one seemingly untrained man after a bunch of Hunters?"
Bruno nodded, having thought the same thing. Perhaps that was why he had a very strange foreboding.
"Well, that's that," Mista commented, taking his cap off and rubbing the back of his head. "Any other stowaways, Giorno?"
"Not that I'm aware of," Giorno said, but frowned. "Still, there is something. Is it just me, or does anyone else think that was too easy?"
"We're all thinking it," Bruno told him quietly.
Mista took out his pistol again and started to reload it with silver bullets. "You're right, something does feel a little fishy," he said, then, "Actually surprised you haven't figured it out yet."
He suddenly grinned and brought the gun up, pointing it directly at Giorno.
"Mista, what—" Giorno demanded, eyes wide, before the gunman suddenly opened fire and sent Giorno reeling back with a spray of blood.
"What the hell?" Narancia screeched, rushing to Giorno as Bruno and Abbacchio ran at the gunman.
"Mista!" Bucciarati shouted, tackling him before he could shoot anyone else, bringing him down to the deck.
The twisted grin was still contorting the gunman's face and Bruno felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck as he said in a gravelly voice, "Figured it out yet, Hunter?"
He shifted, nearly bucking Bruno off with inhuman strength, but Abbacchio was already on top of him, ripping his rosary off of his belt and shoving it against Mista's cheek.
The gunman—or whatever was inside of him—hissed and turned Mista's eyes black.
"He's possessed!" Abbacchio cried in horror.
"A demon?!" Narancia demanded.
"Holy water, Narancia—now!" Bruno demanded as he helped Abbacchio wrestle the gun out of Mista's hand and wrap his wrists with the rosary, which started to burn against his flesh.
Narancia rummaged frantically in his belt pouch and brought out a flask of holy water.
Bucciarati grabbed it and splashed it in Mista's mouth.
Steam rose from the gunman's body, hissing as the demon inside him roared and shot out of Mista's mouth to disappear into the boat.
The whole ship shuddered and Mista fell limply on the deck.
"Check him," Bruno told Abbacchio and hurried over to Narancia who was propping Giorno's head on his knees, hand pressed to a wound on the dhampir's side. "Giorno? How bad?"
Giorno coughed, cringing. "One to the side, the other in the shoulder—silver bullets."
Bruno pressed his lips together tightly. "We'll have to get them out then so you can heal."
"Why the hell did he shoot Giorno?" Narancia asked.
"Likely because I can't be possessed," Giorno said in a strained voice. "The demon probably wanted to put me out of commission as soon as possible."
"Yes, and now it's somewhere in the ship, waiting for its next target," Bruno said grimly. "None of us can leave each other's sight now, understand? Not until we see this thing exorcised."
Trish turned over on the cot, nausea still roiling in her insides. She would have blamed the seasickness entirely if she hadn't already felt like that when she had woken up that morning before they left. It was such a strange sensation as she felt hungry, empty even, but the thought of eating anything made her even more nauseous. Perhaps it was simply due to anxiety about her situation. Still, whatever the cause, the choppy waters weren't helping her any.
She was about to drift off again when she heard gunfire from the deck above, followed by shouting. She pushed herself up, heart racing with sudden fear. Were they being attacked?
She should probably stay in the cabin, but as soon as she felt the whole ship shuddering she decided like hell she would stay down here if the ship was damaged and about to sink. So she opened the door and made her way up to the deck.
Her eyes widened when she saw Mista lying on the deck, seeming to be unconscious as Abbacchio unwrapped a rosary from around his wrists. Beyond them Bucciarati and Narancia were helping Giorno to his feet, darker red patches spreading across his burgundy waistcoat.
"W-what happened?" she demanded, hurrying forward to see if she could help.
"We all need to get down below," Bucciarati told her. "We had an unexpected stowaway."
"What happened to Mista and Giorno?"
"Mista was possessed," Abbacchio said darkly. "A demon made him shoot Giorno."
Trish's eyes blew open in horror. "A-a demon is on board?"
"Yes, which is why no one is allowed to go off by themselves," Bucciarati said. "Let's all go belowdecks. Giorno needs medical attention."
Trish hurried after them, motioning to the cabin. "We should put Giorno in the bed. I don't think I'm going to be using it for a while."
Bucciarati didn't protest and he and Narancia brought Giorno into the cabin and lowered him down onto the cot after pulling off his coat. Abbacchio followed with Mista over his shoulders, laying him down against one wall.
"How is he?" Bucciarati asked quietly.
Abbacchio pursed his lips. "I don't think he's physically harmed. But we can't leave him like this. Being unconscious and having already been possessed, he's more easily left open to the demon if it wants to try again."
"Take his weapons and bind him with the consecrated iron chains," Bucciarati said decisively. "I hate to do it but it's necessary."
Abbacchio nodded and started digging through their supplies.
"Now, Abbacchio you stay with Trish and Giorno. Narancia, come with me to see what kind of medical supplies we can find."
Trish watched them go worriedly before she turned her attention to Giorno who was lying on the cot with his brow furrowed in pain, breathing heavily. Trish hurriedly took her handkerchief out and started dabbing the sweat from his brow. "Is…is there anything I can get you?" she asked, trying to keep her focus off of the blood that stained his front. The smell was so heady it made her dizzy, brought back the nausea with an audible growl of her stomach. She flushed, embarrassed when Giorno cracked his eyes open, watching her.
Thankfully, Bucciarati and Narancia returned with some supplies and Trish shifted to one side to allow them closer to him.
"Bullets need to come out first," Bucciarati said, opening a small medical case and rummaging through it, finding a pair of pincers. Trish swallowed hard, feeling for Giorno in that moment.
"Do what you have to," Giorno murmured, lying back in resignation as Bruno opened his waistcoat and shirt.
Trish blushed slightly at Giorno's state of undress, but she soon forgot all about that when the scent of fresh blood assaulted her nostrils, sending her reeling.
She staggered back to lean against the wall, trying to cover her mouth and nose with the handkerchief.
"Are you okay?" Abbacchio asked her worriedly, settling a hand on her shoulder.
"I—I'm fine. There's just…so much blood," she croaked.
Abbacchio gave her a strange look before he was called over by Bucciarati.
"Abbacchio, I need you to hold him down."
The silver-haired Hunter nodded and took up position at Giorno's legs as Narancia positioned himself at the dhampir's head. Bucciarati was lighting a match, holding the flame to the end of the pincers to disinfect them.
"Ready?" he asked grimly.
"Get it over with," Giorno croaked.
Bucciarati nodded and bent to start extracting the bullets.
Trish looked away as Giorno cried out, shifting despite his obvious attempts not to. Bucciarati swore quietly but after a few more agonizing minutes, Giorno gasped in relief and Bucciarati sat back on his heels, dropping two heavy bullets into a cup.
"Let's get these wounds bound up. You've lost a lot of blood." He turned to Trish. "Trish, if you would look around for some extra sheets or anything that we can use as bandages."
She nodded shakily and pushed herself to look around the cabin, finally finding some extra sheets.
Bucciarati and Narancia were just finishing up cleaning Giorno's paled skin of blood, as she brought them over. "Here, will these work?"
"Those should be fine," Abbacchio told her and helped her start tearing them into strips.
"What are we gonna do about the demon?" Narancia asked. "We can't really hunt it if it's not in someone, right? Or can we exorcise it now?"
"I don't know," Bucciarati said as he got an arm under Giorno to raise him up while Narancia wrapped bandages around his middle. "I only know very basic exorcisms and unfortunately not by heart. Fugo is more knowledgeable than I am about those things."
"Fine time for him to be gone," Abbacchio muttered. "Normally we'd ask for Prosciutto's help on a case like this."
"Indeed," Bucciarati muttered, apologizing to Giorno as the dhampir hissed in pain.
"I know next to nothing about demons," Giorno whispered. "So I'm sorry I can't be of any help."
"You need to rest and recuperate," Bucciarati told him firmly. "Do you need to drink some blood?"
"It would help me heal faster," Giorno replied wearily. "But we don't have any on hand."
"I'll give you some of mine," Bucciarati assured him, already rolling up his sleeve.
But Giorno stopped him. "No…you're still in recovery from your own blood loss and injuries. I won't take any of yours right now."
Bucciarati pursed his lips, but rolled his sleeve back down slowly.
Abbacchio huffed a breath as he stepped forward. "Fine, I'll give you some of mine—only fair I suppose. But I'm not letting you bite me."
He rolled up his sleeve and pulled out a knife. He picked a cup up from the table and made a cut in his forearm.
Trish had been prepared to cringe away from the sight, but the smell of Abbacchio's blood as it dribbled into the glass was so much different than Giorno's had been. It was…
Intoxicating.
Trish found herself staring at the trickle of blood, lips parted, gums aching—why? Why the hell was she feeling this way? Why did the sight of the blood make her so…so…
Ravenous…
She took a shuddering breath, taking a step forward before she could stop herself, eyes locked on the glass as Abbacchio handed it off to Bucciarati and Narancia went to wrap a bandage around his arm.
Suddenly the nausea returned with a vengeance and Trish's knees wobbled as she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.
"Oh god," she gasped, feeling saliva gather in her mouth.
"Trish?" Narancia asked worriedly, rushing toward her.
"I—I need fresh air. Now," Trish gasped.
Bucciarati glanced over at her, mouth opening to say something, before he pressed his lips together again. "A couple minutes. Narancia, go with her."
Trish hurried out of the cabin as fast as her wobbly legs could go, Narancia's hand steadying her up the stairs.
Trish collapsed against the railing the minute she got onto the deck, ready to vomit any minute. The wind was picking up, the waves choppy below, but the stormy wind worked to clear her head and quelled the nausea. She breathed deeply, trying to ease her shaking. Trying not to think about anything that had happened in the cabin. Any of the thoughts that had nearly overcome her.
She was interrupted by a grating chuckle from Narancia behind her and frowned.
"You haven't figured it out yet, have you? How adorable."
"Excuse me?" Trish demanded, turning to stare at him and was suddenly unnerved to see Narancia's face twisted in a cruel grin.
"You have no idea what you really are, do you? Shall I enlighten you?"
Narancia's eyes flooded with pure blackness and Trish screamed, scrambling for the dagger in her boot. "Get-get out of Narancia, you—!"
The demon in her friend's body leapt forward, pushing her dangerously close to falling over the railing. "I may not be able to possess you, signorina, but I think I can use you against your companions."
Trish growled and finally grabbed her dagger, swinging upward.
The demon caught the blade with Narancia's bare hand and squeezed, blood seeping out from between his fingers. Trish watched in horror as he pushed the hand toward her face, blood pooling. So, so close…
"You want it, don't you? And why is that, do you think?"
Trish cringed and squeezed her eyes shut with a silent apology as she ripped the blade out of Narancia's hand and made to stab the demon.
But her wrist was grabbed and twisted. Trish screamed in pain as her dagger was wrenched from her hand and she collapsed to her knees.
"You're hungry, aren't you?" the demon taunted her and took up the dagger, raising it to make a long cut down Narancia's forearm, causing blood to drip onto the deck as he leaned toward her. "How about a little taste?"
"Trish!"
Abbacchio and Bucciarati burst onto the deck and Trish lunged toward them.
"It has Narancia!" she cried.
They spun toward the youngest Hunter, only to freeze when they saw the demon holding the blade to Narancia's throat, threatening to cut it.
"Careful, come any closer and I'll cut the boy's throat," the demon warned.
"What do you want here?" Bucciarati demanded.
The demon stretched Narancia's face in a grin. "Want? To do my job. And that is to make sure none of you make landfall. Orders directly from your former boss."
"Is that so?" Bucciarati asked coldly. "Well, I think you'll find that we are not so easily taken out. Abbacchio!"
The other Hunter flung a circle of chain from behind his back, wrapping it around Narancia's chest, trapping his arms to his body. The demon screeched as the iron burned against it. Bucciarati stepped forward with a canteen of holy water and the demon screeched again and finally left Narancia's body in a plume of black smoke.
Narancia collapsed and Abbacchio caught him, holding him tightly as he inspected the cuts on his arm and hand.
"Little black-eyed bitch," he snarled, then glanced apologetically toward Trish as Bucciarati gave him a look.
"Are you all right?" Bucciarati asked as he went to help Trish up.
"Yes, my wrist is just a little sore," she said, glancing worriedly at Narancia, before she had to pull her eyes away, swallowing down the sickness that welled up as she saw the blood.
"Let's go below," Bucciarati said tiredly.
They returned to the cabin, cramped now with all of them inside. Abbacchio lay Narancia down next to Mista, taking his coat off for the boy to use as a pillow.
"Here," Trish said quickly, handing him some more of the bandages. "Will he be okay?"
"We'll see how well the bleeding stops," Abbacchio grunted, inspecting the wounds. "We might have to stitch these, Bucciarati."
Bucciarati nodded grimly and started to rummage through the medical kit again.
Trish sank down onto the small stool by the desk in the corner. "What do we do about the demon?" she asked.
"It has to be exorcised and sent back to hell," Bucciarati said grimly as he readied needle and thread to suture Narancia's cuts. He glanced toward his bag of supplies. "There's a book in there, Trish, can you find it for me?"
Trish hurried to open the bag and look through it.
"That was the last of the holy water too," Bucciarati said grimly.
Abbacchio reached into the pouch on his belt. "I have this, but after that, it is the last of it. We can see if there's some salt in the kitchen—it will do in a pinch."
Bucciarati pressed his lips together and continued working on Narancia's injuries.
Trish pulled a small black book out of the bag. "This?" she asked.
"Yes," Bucciarati replied. "I'll have to look through the exorcisms in it. We don't have a lot of time to do this and we have no way of being sure when it might try to possess one of us again."
Trish curled up in the corner with her arms around her knees, watching the two men tend to their injured comrades. They were getting picked off at a rapid pace and Trish was terrified that she might be the only one left before long.
Bucciarati flipped through the book, marking several sections.
"Did you…find anything?" Trish asked hesitantly.
Bruno glanced over to where she was sitting by Giorno's bed, dabbing his clammy forehead as he rested fitfully.
"In theory this should work," he murmured. "Unfortunately, exorcisms require targeting. Without knowing the demon's name, I can't invoke it to leave without knowing exactly where it is—basically, unless it's possessing someone."
Trish furrowed her brow. "Why would my father send a demon after us? I thought Hunters would frown upon making contracts with them."
"Well, as it turns out, your father is a very corrupt man," Bruno replied wryly, glancing up at the girl. "How are you feeling, by the way?"
Trish pursed her lips. "I'm all right. I don't feel as sick as I did before."
"That's good, I told you you'd get used to it."
They were silent for a long moment before Trish finally turned to him. "Bucciarati, I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer it."
"I'll do my best," he said, before glancing up at the door to the cabin, a sudden instinct telling him something was wrong.
"Well…when the demon was in Narancia, it said—"
"Hold on," Bruno told her quickly, holding up a hand as he stood.
Trish stopped, looking annoyed, but she seemed to see that Bruno was agitated because she also stood, instantly on the alert. "What's wrong?"
"Abbacchio?" Bruno called, ducking his head out of the cabin door to see if the other Hunter had moved further outside from where he had been standing guard in the doorway. But he wasn't anywhere to be seen.
Alarm bells rang in his head as he rushed back into the cabin, gathering supplies.
"Is—do you think he's been possessed?" Trish asked.
Bruno nodded and turned back to her, shoving the can of salt they had found in her hands. "Listen—stay in the cabin. If Abbacchio—or I—show up with black eyes, throw salt. If that does nothing, then there are consecrated bullets in Mista's gun. Shooting a possessed person with those will at least stagger the demon for a while.
Trish watched, pale, as he grabbed the last of the holy water and the exorcism book. "Just keep yourself safe, Trish. Promise."
"O-okay," Trish nodded shakily.
Bruno hurried out of the cabin and started searching cautiously around for where the demon might have run off to.
That was when he heard a muffled banging sound in the hold and headed in that direction.
A lantern lit the area, and he could see Abbacchio's figure rummaging through crates as if looking for something.
Bruno set his jaw in determination as he strode forward, raising his sword.
A few steps away from Abbacchio he spun around, eyes dark, and black lips twisted in a manic grin. "Found me, did you?"
Bruno didn't hesitate, he simply swung, the hilt of the sword connecting with Abbacchio's skull.
The Hunter's body went sprawling and Bruno leapt on him instantly, shoving his crucifix against Abbacchio's chest and wrapping the last of their iron chains around him.
"This ends here," he snapped, yanking the top off the flask of holy water with his teeth as he held the book of exorcisms in front of him, sprinkling holy water onto the demon as he read: "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…"
The demon writhed under him, fighting the restraints, practically frothing at the mouth. "You bastard Hunter!" it snarled, distorting Abbacchio's voice with an inhuman growl.
The boat was shaking, and Bruno had to set the book on the floor to read from, needing another hand to hold Abbacchio down as he splashed another dose of holy water onto him.
"Omnis legia diabolica, adiuramus te…"
"Enough!"
Thunder cracked and the boat shuddered and creaked. The demon bucked under Bruno and Abbacchio's head came up, slamming into his own.
Bruno reeled back, losing hold on the flask as his elbow smashed into the deck.
The demon shook off the chains with a furious groan and climbed to its feet.
Bruno reached for his sword but the demon kicked it aside and stomped on his wrist.
"Run, little Hunter. There's no one to save you now."
Bruno flipped around and kicked Abbacchio's legs from under him, launching toward the book, wrenching it toward him.
"Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque—"
"Shut your mouth."
Abbacchio's hands were suddenly around his throat, slamming Bruno back against the side of the boat. He fought, clawing at Abbacchio's hands and wrists, locked with the demon's iron grip.
The demon growled, sneering as he bore Bruno to the ground, slamming his head back against the floor until he saw stars as he continued to choke him.
"L…Leo…ne," Bruno tried. "F…fight!"
"Oh, Leone is a little busy at the moment," the demon sneered. "But don't you worry, I'll leave him soon enough. I'd be remiss if I didn't end off on possessing the leader. And once I'm in your body I'll easily finish off the rest of your helpless teammates—with your own hand. And as a treat, I'll make sure you can watch and feel their blood on your hands."
Bruno snarled, shoving his hands up against Abbacchio's chin, trying to push him away. The demon only pressed his thumbs harder into Bruno's windpipe though, making him choke. His eyes fluttered, rolling upward as he felt darkness slipping in.
"There we go, that's better," the demon growled and leaned close, opening Abbacchio's mouth wide to leave the Hunter and possess Bruno instead.
However, he stopped after only a second, eyes going wide. "What? It can't be, are you—"
"Bucciarati!"
Bruno pried his eyes open and looked to see Trish standing on the other side of the hold, a horrified look on her face.
The demon turned, but Bruno used that as an opportunity to grapple him, locking his arms and legs around Abbacchio's body and grabbing his crucifix from where it had fallen.
"Trish," he gasped. "The book, second verse!"
Abbacchio's hands went around his throat again as Trish scrambled for the book.
"Um…I just, read it?"
"Yes!" Bruno croaked, wrapping the rosary around Abbacchio's wrists as the demon snarled in fury.
"H-humiliare sub potenti mani Dei; conte-contremisce et effuge…"
Trish stumbled over the Latin but the demon was getting more and more furious, fighting with everything it had against Bruno's grasp.
"You can't do this! I won't leave!" it growled.
The boat shook only further, threatening to split at the seams and Trish faltered.
Bruno slammed a fistful of salt into Abbacchio's mouth, making the demon shriek. "Finish it, Trish!"
Trish got a steely look in her eyes and nodded, turning back to the book. "Ut Ecclesiam taum secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus audi nos!"
Abbacchio's body shuddered with a scream of fury.
Trish snapped the book shut. "Arrivederci—you black-eyed bitch."
The black plume of demonic energy screamed out of Abbacchio's mouth and exited through the bottom of the boat.
With one last timber creaking shudder the boat stilled and an imperceptible darkness lifted.
Abbacchio moaned and collapsed across Bruno's lap. Bruno gasped for air, hands going to his bruised throat as he slumped back against the ship.
After a second, he opened his eyes and looked up at Trish. "You did good," he croaked before turning to Abbacchio, laying him carefully down on his side. He sighed heavily and slumped, tilting his head back, shutting his eyes.
He was surprised to hear a sob and the sound of running feet. He cracked his eyes open just in time to see Trish throwing herself into his arms, shaking uncontrollably.
"Trish, shh, it's all right," he murmured, pulling her close and cradling her head against his shoulder. "It's all right. I'm very proud of you, Trish."
She sobbed harder and he simply held her for a long moment, simply glad that all of this was over.
At least that was what he thought until a world-shattering crack sounded through the boat and everything listed.
"What was that?" Trish screamed as she and Bruno scrambled upright.
Bruno glanced around and saw water seeping in through the floor.
"I think… we might be sinking—the demon must have damaged the boat somehow."
"Oh god, what are we going to do now?" Trish demanded.
"We have no choice but to get to the lifeboat," Bruno told her, kneeling beside Abbacchio and shaking him. "Go try to wake the others, we need to get everyone off of here now!"
Trish nodded and rushed back to the cabin as Bruno roused Abbacchio.
The other Hunter groaned, cringing as his eyes blinked open. "The hell?" he spat. "Did you…put salt in my mouth?"
"You were possessed," Bruno said simply, helping him up. "And now the boat the sinking so we need to leave."
Abbacchio's eyes widened, then instantly fell to the bruises on Bruno's throat. "Did I…"
"No, it was the demon, Leone, we don't have time for semantics. Let's go."
They rushed to the cabin. Mista was already waking up as Trish pulled the chains from around him and Narancia.
"Can you take Narancia?" Bruno asked Abbacchio.
The man nodded, reaching down to pick the boy up as Bruno helped Giorno off the bed.
"What's wrong?" the dhampir slurred.
"Boat's sinking," Bruno muttered.
They all made their way up to the deck. The storm had finally broken and it was raining now.
Trish and Mista were weighed down with all their supplies and Bruno motioned for them to throw them in the small rowboat hanging off one side of the boat.
"Mista, help me lower this down," he commanded, already working at the pulleys holding the boat up.
They lowered it into the water, and Bucciarati motioned for Mista to go first. "Help the others from below," he commanded.
Trish climbed down and then Abbacchio lowered Narancia down toward them. Giorno went next, then as Abbacchio started over, the boat shook beneath them and jolted, sending Bruno to the deck and forcing Abbacchio to hold onto the railing.
"Go!" Bruno shouted, pulling out his sword.
Abbacchio half climbed half jumped into the boat below and Bruno cut the ropes holding it to the side.
"Bucciarati!" Mista called, offering him a hand.
Bruno didn't look back, he simply leapt into the boat as Mista and Abbacchio caught him.
They all settled into the small space. Bruno taking the middle seat with the oars, Abbacchio at the bow, Giorno and Mista at the stern, and Trish sitting between the seats with Narancia's head in her lap. All of them watched as the boat slowly sank into the ocean, disappearing with a small whirlpool of suction that tossed their small lifeboat precariously for a moment.
"Well, I guess on the bright side we might be reported as drowned at sea now?" Mista commented hopefully.
It was an exhausted, beaten, and sea-drenched crew that entered port at Rimini. Bucciarati got them rooms at an inn near the seaside and made sure everyone was settled before he took a quick look around the town for anything suspicious.
Satisfied with the lack of any enemy sighting, he then trudged back to the inn and made to check on everyone.
Giorno was looking better now that he'd had time to rest, and was sitting up in his room where everyone had gathered, even Trish, who sat at the small table in one corner, looking down at a cup of tea in her hands.
"So far I have not seen any signs of the Boss's men," he informed them. "We will continue to be cautious, of course, but I believe we are in the clear for now."
Abbacchio cringed at the sound of his voice, still strained from the demon throttling him, the bruises barely covered by his necktie. "Have you gotten any rest yet, Bucciarati?"
"I haven't exactly had the time," Bruno said.
"Then go rest. We'll take turns keeping watch," he said.
"Yeah, Mista and I are feeling better anyway," Narancia said with a smile.
Bruno sighed. "All right. Wake me if anything happens."
He left for his room and instantly drew the curtains, wincing at the afternoon light. He had a headache—a whole body ache if he were being honest. He winced as he pulled off his coat and waistcoat, then slowly untied his cravat to free his bruised neck. A hot bath would feel fantastic right about now, but he was honestly too tired to go ask the inn staff to draw one for him. Maybe later.
He lay down, feeling his aching body finally try to relax against the slightly lumpy mattress, and of course that was when all the thoughts had to make an appearance.
Particularly what the demon had said to him. How was it that it didn't seem to be able to possess Bruno? The most worrying part was just how surprised the demon had been about that fact as well.
Thoughts of the healing twin scars on the back of his neck seeped in before Bruno viciously shoved them away and rolled toward the wall, trying to will himself to sleep.
Thankfully, perhaps, his body was so exhausted he pretty much crashed despite the turmoil inside of him and Bruno slept, for once too tired for nightmares.
Giorno was awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of the room next door opening, followed by footsteps going quickly and quietly past his own.
He sat up slowly, glancing toward the other bed and seeing Narancia still fast asleep and snoring gently. He got up, yanking his boots on and left the room, glancing over to see Trish's door ajar.
Worry gnawed at him as he swiftly headed down the stairs but saw no signs of Trish.
"Giorno?"
He startled slightly and turned to see Bucciarati behind him.
"What's wrong?"
"Trish left," Giorno said.
Bucciarati's eyes widened and he and Giorno silently hurried outside, glancing around the dark streets, searching frantically, but there was no sign of Trish.
"Can you sense her?" Bucciarati asked hurriedly.
Giorno closed his eyes trying to pick up Trish's scent and his brow furrowed. "She's nearby. It can't tell exactly where but—"
The sudden raucous sounds of frightened chickens filled the night and Giorno had a sudden suspicion. He glanced at Bucciarati with a nod and the two of them hurried around toward the back of the inn where there was a small chicken pen kept by the owners.
When they got there, that was where they found Trish.
She was sitting on the ground beside the chicken coop in a tangle of blood-spattered skirts, hunched over with her shaking hands held out in front of her. The dead bodies of two chickens lying beside her.
"My god," Bucciarati muttered.
"Trish!" Giorno called, stepping forward.
The girl spun and both Hunters froze, her eyes glowing red in the moonlight, lips pulled back to reveal fresh, bloody fangs.
But tears were streaming down her face, combining with the shock and horror that was making her blood-stained hands shake.
"What's happening to me?" she whimpered. "What the hell is happening to me!"
Giorno's heart ached at her obvious terror and he hurried forward, instantly taking her hands in his despite the blood. "It's all right, just calm down."
"What am I?" Trish asked in a strangled voice. "Am I a—a vampire?"
"No," Bucciarati said gently as he also stepped forward. "But your father was."
Trish was numb as they took her back into her room at the inn. A nightmare had turned into an impossible hunger, her body reacting on its own as she made her way outside. How hungry she had been when she had found the chicken coop, the feeling that rushed through her as she tasted the fresh blood. How she felt so powerful and satisfied at first.
Now she just felt disgusting, nauseated, as she looked down at her shaking, blood-stained hands.
Giorno was suddenly kneeling in front of her with a wet cloth, taking her hands in his and cleaning them off.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know," he said quietly. "We need to eat just like everyone else."
"It's—it's disgusting!" Trish choked out, then felt bad because she didn't want Giorno to feel like she was insulting him. "No offense of course, but…"
"No, I understand, believe me," Giorno said kindly and folded the cloth before handing it to her, motioning to her face.
Trish flushed in mortification and quickly cleaned the blood from around her mouth.
"You'll get used to it, especially when you're not ravenous," Giorno said. "I apologize for not noticing sooner how hungry you were. But we were a little preoccupied on the boat…"
"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Trish suddenly burst out, directing the accusation toward Bucciarati who stood off to one side, silent.
"I told you before, I feared it would be too dangerous for you to know the truth about your father until we were somewhere more secure."
"Too dangerous?" Trish cried, infuriated. "Back on the boat, when Narancia and Abbacchio were bleeding, I…I really wanted blood. What if I had hurt them? Without even knowing what was going on with me? Would that have been better?"
"No, you're right," Bucciarati admitted quietly. "And I apologize for keeping this from you, Trish, I really do. But you are so new to this world—"
"With all respect Bucciarati, I don't want any more excuses!" Trish cut in. "Like it or not I am part of this world now, and apparently, I'm also part of your team since I have literally no one else to go to. I would appreciate it if you didn't keep anything involving my father from me again. He tried to kill me, and now I know the reason why. I don't want anything to do with him anymore, so tell me everything you know about him. And…and about me."
Bucciarati and Giorno glanced at each other.
"The truth is…" Giorno said. "You are a dhampir like me, but we don't really know what that means for you. Your father is not a normal vampire. He's very powerful, and that might mean that you also have powers that you haven't fully realized yet. But regardless, I am here to help however I can. I know it's not easy to have this kind of thing sprung on you, especially after living your whole life without knowing you weren't completely human, but it's not something you have to be ashamed of, Trish. That, I promise you."
Trish felt genuine gratitude toward Giorno for his words, feeling her eyes get slightly wet. "And what of my father?" she asked.
"Your father," Bucciarati told her, "Is a corrupt Vampire Lord. And we are going to take him down."
Trish took a deep breath, feeling oddly at peace in that moment as she stared Bucciarati directly in the eyes. "Then I'm going to help you."