New Vampire AU fic for today's whumptober piece! This is going to be a 2-parter and the 2nd part will be up on the 27th.
This fic is set between Monsters and Fallen Saints and Something Wicked so you don't have to be caught up in the series to read this one.
Buckle up, guys, we have a ton of angst and dhampir lore in this one.
Thanks so much to waffles_in_winter for plotting this with me
Masters and Slaves
A JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Fanfic
(Vampire Hunter AU) Giorno is kidnapped by a group who sells supernatural beings at underground auctions and ends up in a house looking for a dhampir to be able to heal the ailing lord. However, cruel conditions bring back memories Giorno would rather have forgotten. Can his teammates find him before he's forced to do something he will regret?
(For Whumptober Day 11 and Day 27)
Part One
(Day 11: Captivity, 'No one will find you')
The sharp clash of foils resounded through the room as Giorno pulled back for a brief breather, studying the man before him.
Bucciarati was always poised when in the heat of a fight—constantly aware of his body at all times. Perfect balance, well-practiced center of gravity, and lightning quick with a blade. He spared no skill in practice, for which Giorno was grateful, knowing he had a lot to work on.
Bucciarati's sword came up and he flicked his fingers.
"Again."
Giorno shifted his weight, pausing before he went for another attack, trying to land a blow with the dulled blade. But Bucciarati's foil danced around his own, keeping it away. Then he shifted, and Giorno took the opportunity to lunge, arcing his foil over Bucciarati's toward his heart.
But the Hunter was there and gone in a second and Giorno found that his wrist was caught in a firm grip, the blunt end of the foil pressing up under his ribs.
"You're getting much better," Bucciarati told him. "But your issue is overextending on a lunge." He swung his foil down to swat Giorno's leading leg before releasing him and allowing him to straighten up. "It's always best to let your enemy come to you instead of being so eager to get to them. They'll get overconfident and you'll find you have a lot more control over them that way. We'll work on that more next time?"
Giorno nodded, rubbing the back of his hand across his forehead. "I do appreciate your lessons, Bucciarati."
"You're a good student," Bucciarati replied with a smile as he took their foils and put them on the rack to one side of the training room. "I have every faith that you will be an extremely proficient hunter one day."
The door to the training room opened and Fugo came in, waving a telegram. "Bucciarati, Polpo's asked us to take a package down to the Archives."
"Can you do that, Fugo? I'm expecting a meeting in half an hour."
"I am actually still getting the files together for that, I apologize," Fugo said. "There's been a lot of messages and calls today."
"I can take the package to the Archives," Giorno said.
Bucciarati looked at him gratefully. "Thank you, Giorno. Do you know where it is?"
He nodded. "Mista and I stopped by there a couple weeks ago. It won't be a problem."
Fugo nodded, waving him toward the door. "It's in the office."
Giorno grabbed his coat, pulling it back on as he followed Fugo down the hall.
"Here you go," Fugo told him, handing him the wrapped box. "Just take it to the front desk and they'll ask you to sign off on it to confirm it got there."
Giorno nodded, tucking the box under his arm before he left the Hunter's mansion. He took a cab into the city before making his way toward his destination.
The Archives were a place Hunters typically used for research, or to keep things that might be useful to their trade. Hunters journals, documentation, Vampire heraldry and the like, as well as records on all the active hunters in Italy. Sort of like a library of arcane Hunting knowledge.
Giorno headed into the lobby, finding a young man working at the front desk, seeming to be engrossed in writing something. He looked up as Giorno approached, however and raised his eyebrows.
"Good day, signore, how can I help you?"
"I have a package to drop off for Capitano Polpo," Giorno told him.
An older man came out of the back and Giorno nodded to him in greeting.
"Ah, yes, that's the item we've been expecting. Antony, can you handle the paperwork while I process this?"
"Of course, signore," the young man replied as Giorno handed over the package. He reached below the desk to pull out a form, handing it over to Giorno. "If you can just fill this in, and sign it?"
Giorno did as he was asked, handing it back over after finishing his signature.
The young clerk looked it over and his eyes widened. "Giovanna? You must be the dhampir who's been working with Bucciarati then."
Giorno's brows furrowed slightly but he nodded politely. "Yes, I joined his team a couple months ago."
The young man nodded, seeming deep in thought and Giorno cleared his throat briefly. "Is that all?"
"Oh, yes, I apologize."
Giorno turned and started to leave. He was almost to the door when the clerk called out to him. "Er, Giovanna! Actually, I will need one other thing from you, I'm afraid."
Giorno turned back. "Yes?"
"Since this appears to be a historical item, I'll need you to sign one of the archive books. You'll have to come to the back."
Giorno frowned, but followed the clerk as he hurried from around the desk, glancing over his shoulder briefly before waving Giorno on.
They headed down a quiet hallway, and the young man paused. "Wait here, please."
He hurried off down the hallway, disappearing through a door as Giorno stood there, waiting. Whatever he was doing took several minutes, leaving Giorno wondering if there might be some issue, but soon enough the clerk reappeared, returning to lead Giorno down the hallway.
"Sorry about that, protocol, you know. Right this way."
He clerk was certainly a bit on the flighty side, but Giorno didn't really think anything of it, until he was led into what seemed to be a processing room with very dim lighting and boxes stacked all over the place. Not exactly what he had expected.
"And where is this book I need to sign?" he asked, getting an odd feeling as he looked around.
The clerk suddenly narrowed his eyes with a smile. "Sorry, dhampir. But I'm not passing up an opportunity this good."
Before Giorno could ask what he meant, something heavy enveloped him, forcing him to his knees with a cry of surprise before he realized it was also burning. He pushed against it, fingers tangling in cold wires. A silver net?
"What is this?" Giorno demanded.
Two shadows loomed out from behind him, shoving him down completely as he struggled against the netting, wrapping him up into a cocoon that burned against his exposed skin.
"Will this do?" the clerk asked.
"Very much so," one of the other figures grunted. "You'll receive your pay tomorrow if he sells at the auction tonight."
"What the hell are you talking about! Unhand me!" Giorno snarled, struggling further. "I'm a registered Hunter, this is illegal!"
A heavy boot kicked him in the head, leaving him dazed.
"Be a good little half-blood and shut up before I use the holy water on you," the man growled in his ear. "Now sweet dreams."
A blow to the back of his head had Giorno falling completely into unconsciousness, left to be carried off to some fresh hell.
Giorno woke to a sharp pain in his wrist. He flinched, eyes fluttering open as he tried to pull away from whatever had a hold of him.
But he could only go so far before something tugged on his burning wrists and he realized his hands were bound in silver manacles, the chain between them linked around the bars of a cage.
A baton slammed against the bars, startling him and making his head ache. "Easy, half-blood. You're not going anywhere now."
"Where am I?" Giorno demanded, glancing down and seeing a bleeding cut on his wrist. "Who the hell are you?"
He was ignored as his captor straightened up and handed over a cup of Giorno's blood to another man standing to one side. "Is this enough?"
"That's fine. If you would?"
The guard grunted and pulled off his glove, making a small cut across his palm. The other man dripped some of Giorno's blood onto it and the man hissed before he chuckled. "Well, would you look at that."
"Indeed. It is a rare find to have a dhampir with healing powers. He will fetch a very good price."
Giorno pushed himself to his knees and gripped the bars, shaking them furiously. "I am a registered Hunter under Capitano Polpo and Bruno Bucciarati. You have no right to sell me," he spat.
The man who had inspected his blood turned to him with disdain. He was dressed in an expensive suit and Giorno suspected he was likely the head of this operation. "Dhampirs have no rights unless they belong to a master. Without documented proof that Polpo or any of his Hunters own you, it is not illegal to sell you to a new master."
Giorno gritted his teeth, feeling his fangs lengthen in fury. As disgusting as it was, he knew that there was truth to the man's words. He had been so careful for years to hide his true nature for this very reason—had barely escaped his parents before they had decided to sell him off for money. Still, he was sure that Polpo would have enough sway to get him out of this situation, if only he could get in contact with Bucciarati.
"Please at least let me send a message to my boss," Giorno tried. "He'll tell you—"
The guard slammed his baton down on the cage bars again as Giorno barely got his fingers out of the way in time.
"That's enough out of you, fang!" he snarled.
The head man glared at Giorno for a moment before he turned to leave. "Get him ready with the other goods. A muzzle might be a good idea."
Giorno gritted his teeth in helpless frustration. "When the Hunters find out what you're doing—Agh!"
A burning spray flew across his face and Giorno barely shut his eyes in time, realizing the man had thrown holy water over him."
"That's enough out of you, blood-sucker! Milano! Come help me get this freak ready for tonight."
Giorno struggled as they opened his cage, but with his hands still manacled to the bars on the door, he was forced to shuffle forward out of the cage. He shifted and kicked out at his captors, but they grabbed hold of him and forced him to the ground, one of the men sitting on him to hold him down.
"Watch your fingers," he grunted to his companion as the man got the muzzle ready.
Giorno glowered up at him, and hissed. He snapped at the man's hand, but the guard grabbed a fistful of his hair, wrenching his head back painfully before shoving the muzzle over his mouth. It was the kind that had a plate inside that forced its way between Giorno's teeth, pressing uncomfortably against his tongue as the leather contraption covered the lower half of his face.
It was secured tightly behind his head, the straps digging in painfully.
Giorno glowered up at the two men as they released him and locked him back into the cage.
"Sleep tight, little blood-sucker. You're gonna meet your new master tonight."
Giorno didn't like the sound of that, and simply prayed that Bucciarati and the others might know where to find him, because, if not, then he was going to be in deep trouble.
Bucciarati cleaned up his files after the meeting with finished, tapping them together to straighten them. He pulled his watch out of his pocket and sighed. That had run a lot longer than he had anticipated and it was nearly time for dinner now.
He headed toward the parlor where Mista and Abbacchio were sitting reading, and nodded to them.
"How'd the meeting go?" Abbacchio asked.
"Fine, though Signore Pirozzi is a bit long winded."
Mista chuckled, then, "Hey, where's Giorno anyway? I was looking for him earlier but Fugo said he'd gone out."
"He's not back yet?" Bruno frowned, glancing at his watch again. "He left before noon."
"Unless he's hiding somewhere," Mista shrugged. "Maybe he got tied up with something."
"He just ran something to the Archives, he should have been back by now," Bruno said.
"I'm sure he's fine," Abbacchio muttered. "He probably just got distracted or decided to do some shopping while he was in town."
Bruno nodded reluctantly. "I'm sure he did."
And yet it wasn't like Giorno to not be punctual. Bruno couldn't help but feel that there might be something more sinister to this than he was willing to admit.
Giorno's cage was wheeled into a large room, revealing that he was not the only dhampir up for auction that night. Three other cages were occupied, two of their occupants cowering in the back corners—one a girl, and the other a boy looking no older than twelve, Giorno saw with fury. He had a feeling these were victims of their own families, throwing them out because they saw them as little more than monsters or embarrassments. The third dhampir was actively snarling, pressing close to the bars as if waiting for anyone to get close, looking incredibly feral. He had wild eyes and fangs on full display. Giorno pitied the dhampir, wondering what he had gone through to make him like this, what misfortune had landed him here.
The guards walked through the room, batons out and ready for their captives to make even the slightest move.
Giorno's cage was placed next to the young boy's who glanced up at him briefly as he hugged his knees to his chest. Giorno tried to give him a reassuring look, but didn't think it came across with the muzzle in place.
"Let's try this again," one of the guards muttered, advancing on the feral dhampir with two others, one holding a muzzle like the one Giorno was wearing. "We can't have him trying to bite the guests."
"This one's gonna be a real handful for anyone who buys him," one of the other men said.
"Not with a heavy enough hand—he'll be quelled soon enough, I'm sure."
"Sod off!" the dhampir snarled. "I'll rip your throats out if you try to touch me!"
Holy water was sprayed over him and he cried out, ducking under his manacled arms.
The guards reached through the bars, one grabbing a fistful of his hair, the other reaching through to shove his baton under the dhampir's chin to keep his head up. He continued to hiss and snarl and swear as the third guard advanced with the muzzle.
It was a struggle but they finally got it on and secured as the dhampir growled behind it, trying to wrench it off by smashing his face against the bars.
Giorno looked away, fury welling in his gut.
The man in the expensive suit showed up again, clapping his hands. "Our guests will be arriving shortly to view the goods. Is everything set?"
"Yes, sir," the guards promised.
The head man nodded and Giorno sat and waited, looking for any potential escape and seeing none. Had the others realized he was missing yet? He wasn't sure what time it was since he'd been unconscious and they'd taken his watch. Surely it was evening now though. These kinds of things rarely took place during the day.
It wasn't long before the "guests" began arriving. Giorno realized that there were other items up for auction aside from dhampirs, placed under a glass case on a table across the room. They seemed to be relics or old books—the kind of thing that would presumably come from the Archives. Giorno realized that the clerk who had apparently orchestrated his kidnapping might have been stealing from the Archives for a long time without anyone realizing it.
"Lord Calabresi, if you will turn your attention here, we have a last-minute acquisition that might be to your liking."
Giorno looked up to see the auction leader leading a young man over to the cages.
This Lord Calabresi stopped in front of Giorno's cage, glancing down at him with scrutiny.
"This one definitely looks a little more put-together than the others," he said with a disdainful sniff. "And the blood does possess healing abilities?"
"I can give you a demonstration if you wish, my lord."
The young noble waved his hand and the auction head snapped his fingers to one of the guards.
"Cut your hand," he said.
The guard dutifully pulled out a knife and cut his palm. The auction head motioned for another guard to come over and this man crouched, hitting the bars of Giorno's cage with his baton in warning before he reached through and grabbed Giorno's wrist, pulling his hand through the bars and slicing across his palm.
Giorno winced, fingers twitching as his hand was kept open, blood dripping onto the guard's palm.
The young lord watched as the wound started to close and nodded. "Good. Now show me its teeth."
The auction head nodded to the two guards who pulled out the keys to Giorno's cage, opening the door and forcing him to shuffle forward on his knees so that he didn't fall on his face with his hands still manacled to the door.
One of the guards got behind him with the baton barred across his neck under his chin, effectively hauling his head back as the other pulled on heavy leather gloves and started to unbuckle the muzzle.
The second it was removed, Giorno pressed forward against the baton. "Signore, please, I am a registered Hunter, I am here by mistake—"
The guard in front of him slapped him hard across the face as the other forced the baton against his windpipe, cutting off his breath.
"Chatty one—I see why you muzzle it," Calabresi muttered.
"I'm sure you'll be able to manage that, my lord," the auction head said and motioned for the guards to continue.
The one in front of Giorno gripped his jaw, squeezing painfully as he pried Giorno's mouth open, forcing his thumb covered in the dirty leather glove back behind his teeth in order to keep his mouth open, peeling his lips back as Giorno growled in discomfort at the humiliation.
"This one's teeth are in very good condition. No chips or rot—a well behaved blood-sucker," the auction head said with a smirk.
"Good," the young lord replied. "The feral ones are too difficult to keep around."
Indignation surged through Giorno at the treatment. The muzzle was shoved back in his mouth and he was finally released and shut back inside the cage.
"I'll pay you half again as much as you're expecting to make if you let me take this one off your hands now," Lord Calabresi said to the auction head.
The man hummed, tapping his chin. "A generous offer, but he could easily make double the going rate in auction, especially in this condition—I'm sure you know that houses do tend to prefer the good-looking ones. And with the healing ability wrapped into that…"
"I'll pay double then," Calabresi snapped. "You know how long I've been looking for a replacement. My father, the Conte, is not getting any better."
The auction head held out his hands, putting on a pleasant smile. "Of course, well, this once I will make an exception. Double the going price is more than acceptable."
The man pulled out his checkbook and wrote the note.
"Pleasure doing business, my lord," the auction head said with a smile, tucking the check into his coat pocket.
"Now if your men can help me load the cage into my carriage."
Giorno's mind was racing a mile a minute as his cage was picked up to follow the young lord outside. He gripped the bars as he looked up at the moon high in the sky, wondering if this was the last time he would see it for a long while.
Bucciarati was genuinely perplexed as he paced his office, waiting for a call from any of the people he had contacted about Giorno's possible whereabouts. It was long after dinner now, and there was no reasonable explanation as to why Giorno hadn't been able to get back to the mansion. He was always punctual, very reliable, and this was certainly not like him. Which is why there was worry currently gnawing its way through Bruno's stomach.
"None of Nero's team have seen him either," Mista said, poking his head into the office. "But they'll keep an eye out."
Bruno nodded.
"You sure he's not just out feeding?" Abbacchio asked blandly from where he sat at his desk.
Bruno frowned. "He knows he has a steady supply of blood here."
"Yeah and maybe he had a craving for something more fresh," Abbacchio muttered. "He hasn't had any blood for a couple weeks, has he?"
"No, he usually has a regular portion every other Friday," Bruno said. "But still, I highly doubt that's why he's missing."
Abbacchio sighed and stood up, reaching for his coat hanging over the back of the chair. "If you're that worried, then let's go to the Archives. That's the last place he was presumably seen, right?"
Bruno sighed but nodded, feeling a little bit of relief flood him at potential action. "Yes. Fugo, could you please stay here and monitor the phones?"
"Of course," the young man said from his own desk.
"Mista, Narancia, you come with us!" he called as they made their way out and called a cab to head into the city.
Once they got to the Archives, they split up and Bruno and Mista headed inside while Abbacchio and Narancia searched around the area.
When the man working the front desk saw Bucciarati he quickly came to attention.
"Ah, Signore Bucciarati, is there something I can help you find?" the old man asked.
"Not something in your archives this time," Bruno said. "Were you here earlier when my man Giovanna came in with the package from Capitano Polpo?"
"I was, I processed it," the man said. "Is something the matter?"
"Only that Giovanna seems to have gone missing," Bruno said darkly. "Did you see him leave here?"
"I'm afraid I didn't, signore, I went to take care of the package and left my assistant to take care of seeing the correct forms filled out."
Bucciarati tapped his chin. "And that was the last you saw of him?"
"I'm afraid so, signore. However…" The old man leaned over the desk, speaking quietly. "I've been meaning to bring this up with Capitano Polpo, but several things have gone missing around here recently. At first, I thought it was due to the renovations we've been doing in the west wing, but everything was very purposefully categorized and packed away."
"You think someone's been stealing from here?" Mista inquired.
The old man nodded. "I hate to think that it's one of my employees, but I see no other explanation. Is it possible that your man could have seen something suspicious while he was here and gone to investigate it?"
Bucciarati glanced at Mista. "That is possible," he mused. "Thank you, signore. I will pass on the information about the missing items to the capitano as well. We will see that taken care of."
He and Mista turned to leave when the man called him back.
"Ah, one more thing, Signore Bucciarati! I could give you my assistant's address so that you may check with him as well. He had more interactions with Giovanna."
Bruno waited for him to scrawl the address onto a piece of paper, and then nodded in thanks, following Mista out of the building.
They rejoined Abbacchio and Narancia and Bruno held up the address.
"We'll check in with the assistant, but we might have more of an issue than we realized."
He filled the others in as they made their way to the assistant's flat. However, once they got there, the door was locked and it didn't look like anyone was even home.
Bucciarati sighed in annoyance. "Yet another lead we'll have to wait on."
"Bucciarati," Narancia spoke up quietly. "Have we tried calling any of the hospitals yet? If he was injured then maybe that's why he hasn't been able to get word to us."
Bruno pressed his lips together. "I'll do so when we get back. He should have had his hunting credentials on him though, so if he had been taken to a hospital even unconscious, someone should have called Polpo."
"Have you considered he might have just walked?" Abbacchio asked hesitantly.
"Giorno wouldn't do that!" Narancia said. "He's happy with us!"
"Yeah, and even if he did for any reason, he's the kind of guy who would at least leave a note," Mista added. "I just get the feeling that something bad happened to him; none of this sits well with me."
"Me either," Bucciarati said honestly. "To be frank, I worry about him sometimes. His association with us has made it known to certain parties that he is a dhampir, and as such is at risk for people who would wish to use him for their own purposes. It's entirely possible he could have fallen victim to someone with ill intent."
"Well, all we can do is keep looking for him then," Mista said firmly. "Because if Giorno's in trouble, then I sure as hell am not gonna leave him hanging."
Giorno took in the huge mansion as his cage was unloaded by servants and carried through the back after Lord Calabresi barked instructions to his staff.
"Get the dhampir cleaned up and in uniform. I want it presentable by morning."
Giorno was finally unlocked from the cage, but his muzzle was kept on as two footmen and the butler hemmed him in, watching him cautiously. Giorno stood there, trying to appear non-threatening. Perhaps if he behaved he would be given more free rein to possibly escape. Besides, he had nothing against the servants; as far as he knew, they were only doing what they were told, after all.
"Come here, dhampir," the butler said sternly, crooking a finger.
Giorno cautiously followed, noticing the footmen behind him. His wrists were burning from the silver cuffs, two reddened rings around them. He was shown to a room at the end of the hall in what was presumably the servants' wing. It was small, windowless, and had only a hard-looking cot, a small table with a bowl and pitcher for washing, and a chamber pot in the corner. Giorno hesitated at the door, the room reminding him far too much of his childhood bedroom.
"Go on then," one of the footmen said, pushing him in the back so that he staggered inside. "This is where you'll be staying."
The butler was setting out an outfit that was similar to what the footmen were wearing: crisp white shirt with a slightly ruffled sleeve, grey waistcoat, and black trousers and jacket.
"This will be your uniform," the butler informed him, then took out a key and approached Giorno with a piercing stare. "I'm going to unlock your manacles now, try anything and you will regret it."
Giorno simply held out his hands and the butler unlocked the manacles, before reaching up to take off the muzzle as well to Giorno's relief.
"Signore," he said, voice rough and mouth dry from the muzzle's intrusion. "I apologize for any misunderstanding, but your master has purchased me at an illegal auction. I'm actually a Hunter, registered under Capitano Polpo, head of the Neapolitan Division—if you could get a message to him I—"
"Do you have a document from your previous master to explain this?" the butler asked with a sniff.
"I have no previous master," Giorno said stiffly.
"I see." The butler handed the manacles and muzzle over to one of the footmen. "Then nothing the young lord did was in fact illegal, and I would suggest you not bring it up again. The young lord would not take kindly to any such insinuation against his person or character."
"May I ask what I am to do here?" Giorno hurried as the butler started to leave the room.
"You are to provide healing to the Conte—the master of the estate," the butler said. "My advice is to do what is asked of you and nothing more. You'll be called upon first thing in the morning and you will be expected to be clean, dressed, and ready. Understood?"
Giorno nodded.
The butler speared him with a look, features darkening. "Whoever you have out there, doesn't matter anymore. They will never find you. You are the sole property of the Calabresi estate now, and will serve the family until they tire of you and you meet the same fate as those who came before."
He didn't wait for Giorno to reply, simply left, locking the door behind him and the footmen.
Giorno looked around the tiny room, lit only by a small lantern sitting on the table. He slowly went to sit on the cot, finding it just as hard as it looked.
The helplessness of his situation was starting to make his chest tight. He'd fought so hard for so long to keep his freedom. He had thought that finding a place with Bucciarati's team would have solidified that, but with his credentials stolen he had no proof of his position. Though, honestly, he wasn't sure if it would matter to his captor or not. Lord Calabresi seemed to know exactly what he wanted out of Giorno, and the dhampir was hoping he could provide it. Otherwise, he was sure things would only go from bad to worse.
Giorno was surprised to find he had fallen asleep because he was woken by a sharp knocking on his door, blinking in the darkness as he pushed himself up from the hard cot.
"Wake up, dhampir. You need to be ready in fifteen minutes to appear before the young lord," the butler's voice snapped through the door.
Giorno fumbled for matches, lighting the lantern so he could actually see, and then doing his best to clean up with the bowl and towel that the butler had left for him, before he re-braided his hair and dressed in the clothing provided.
The door was opened soon after and the butler motioned for him to leave the room.
Giorno followed him through the interior of the mansion, allowing Giorno to see just how rich this family seemed to be, and finally came to a large dining room where the Lord Calabresi and an older woman sat, eating breakfast.
"My lord," the butler stopped, bowing slightly. "Your new acquisition."
Giorno frowned at being called an acquisition, but gave a small bow when the butler pierced him with a glare and jabbed a finger downward.
"Perfect," Calabresi said. "Well, what do you think, Mother?"
"Oh, quite a pretty one this time," the older woman said, eyeing Giorno. "Third time's the charm, I suppose."
"Yes, quite." He turned to Giorno, crooking his finger. "Come here, fang."
Giorno stepped closer, wary. The Lord Calabresi picked up his cappuccino and took a long sip. "Did the butler explain why you were here?"
"A little."
Calabresi's hand came out of nowhere, striking Giorno's cheek.
"You will address me as 'lord', is that understood? I don't take disrespect in this house, especially from fangs."
Giorno swallowed down his fury and bowed his head slightly. "Apologies, my lord."
"Ottavio, do try not to damage him too much before he's done his job," the woman scolded lightly.
Calabresi went back to his coffee. "It needs to learn its place early, Mother." He turned back to Giorno. "You are here for one reason only—your blood. My father the Conte is very ill and you will provide the blood to heal him."
Giorno furrowed his brow, but simply nodded. He wouldn't say anything until he actually saw the man.
"What's your name, dhampir?" the old woman suddenly asked.
Giorno turned to her. "Giorno Giovanna, my lady," he said.
She plucked a piece of pastry off her plate and tossed it onto the floor at Giorno's feet. "Here, have a little treat."
He stared at it, stunned, making no move to pick it up.
"Mother, it's not a dog," Calabresi grunted before he finished his breakfast and stood. "Come along then. There's no point in delaying this further."
He snapped his fingers at Giorno and the dhampir followed, Contessa Calabresi trailing behind. Giorno followed the young lord up to the second floor and to a bedroom where an old man, pale and frail looking, lay under several blankets in a huge bed. Every breath he took rattled in his chest.
A man stood over him, who Giorno presumed was perhaps the family physician. He looked up as Calabresi came in and his eyes fell on Giorno.
"This is the new dhampir?"
"Yes—genuine article this time," Calabresi said. "I was given a demonstration."
"Very well then, I have everything set up. Come here." The doctor snapped his fingers at Giorno who frowned, not sure what was wanted from him.
Lord Calabresi growled, gripping Giorno's shoulder and shoving him to one side of the room where a chair and some medical equipment was set up on a table. "Don't test my patience, dhampir. And if you give the doctor any trouble, I will thrash you myself."
Giorno went to the chair and the doctor grabbed his arm, rolling up his sleeves before pulling out a scalpel and slicing unceremoniously across Giorno's forearm. He winced briefly as he watched blood collect on the wound and start to drip into a container the doctor held below.
"May I inquire as to what the Cone is sick with?" Giorno asked.
Calabresi's nostrils flared in anger at his question, but the doctor was already answering it.
"Consumption."
Giorno hesitated before he finally admitted, "I'm—afraid that my blood only heals wounds. I'm not sure that it would work on an illness."
Calabresi stormed over and grabbed Giorno by the hair, forcing him to meet his eyes. "And can you prove that? Or are you trying to pretend you're useless to me, because, trust me, that will not work out in your favor."
Giorno held his gaze for a long moment, watching as the man's expression grew more and more furious before he said. "To be honest, my lord, I actually don't know. Perhaps my blood will work on your father."
Calabresi released him with a snarl. "Then perhaps you should shut your fanged mouth. Otherwise, I'll keep that muzzle on you just so I don't have to hear your yapping."
He strode back toward the bed, and Giorno sat in discomfort as the doctor finished up milking him for blood and wrapped a hasty bandage around his arm, standing with the freshly drawn blood.
"Shall I administer the first dose, my lord?"
Calabresi waved a hand impatiently and the doctor stepped over to the bed, reaching down with the Contessa's help to raise the sick man's head with another pillow.
"Here now, my lord, please drink," the doctor said and pressed the cup of Giorno's blood to the man's lips.
He swallowed jerkily, face cringing, but there seemed to be no difference in his appearance after the fact, just as Giorno had suspected.
"Well?" Contessa Calabresi asked.
"Give it some time, my lady," the doctor said. "It will likely take a few doses to see any significant change. But fear not, there is an unlimited supply."
"Yes," she said, clapping her hands. "Giordano will provide all the blood we need."
Giorno sat silently, cradling his bandaged arm. He wondered how long it would take for them to realize this wouldn't work, and what would happen to him when they did.
Three days of worry and constant searching passed before the missing Archives clerk was found, dropped off at Bucciarati's manor by Formaggio and Ghiaccio from Risotto Nero's team.
"Found him on his way out of town," Formaggio explained to Bucciarati as he kicked the bound man where he lay on his side, bruised and bleeding on the foyer floor. "This was in his pocket." He pulled a wad of money out of his coat and threw it on the floor beside the man.
"That's quite a lot of money," Bucciarati commented, bending to pick it up, before motioning to Mista and Abbacchio. "Get our guest a chair. I have a few questions for him."
Once a chair was fetched, Formaggio and Ghiaccio heaved the captive up and yanked the gag from his mouth.
"You bastards!" the man snarled as soon as he could speak again unimpeded. "What the hell do you think you're doing? I'm a human, you know—not exactly your jurisdiction!"
"Humanity is earned," Abbacchio growled, folding his arms over his chest. "And it just so happens you're in the middle of an investigation that is in our jurisdiction."
"Not to mention the fact that you tried to stab my eye out when we found you, you little shit!" Ghiaccio snapped, clutching the handle of his battle-axe. "You were definitely trying to run from something."
"There's also the fact you haven't shown up to work for the last couple days," Bruno added. "Why is that?"
"Family emergency," the man spat.
"Was it?" Mista asked, casually loading his pistol. "Because we currently have one of those ourselves. In the shape of a missing Hunter. Know anything about that?"
"Why the hell would I know?" their captive screamed.
"Oh, I don't know," Mista snapped the gun back together with a practiced flick of his wrist and spun the cylinder full of rounds. "Maybe because you were apparently the last person to see him and you disappear at the same time he does, except, unlike Giorno, you show up with a wad of cash, trying to get out of Napoli. Kind of paints a particular picture, doesn't it?"
"I have no idea where your dhampir is!"
"So you do know he's a dhampir," Abbacchio cut in, raising an eyebrow. "And what are they running on the black market these days?" He picked up the cash, flipping through it. "About 20,000 lira? I'd say a finder's fee cut would be just about as much as you had in your pocket here. What do you think, Bucciarati?"
Bruno nodded darkly. "I'd be inclined to agree. You've been known to sell certain items to auctions before, haven't you?"
"W-what?" the man asked, voice shaking slightly. "I-I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"Do you not?" Bucciarati raised an eyebrow. "Because we've been doing some digging. Several invaluable items have disappeared from the Archives within the past few months and all of them appear to have gone missing on your shifts." He took a swift step forward and grabbed the back of the man's chair, pushing until it teetered on its back legs as he loomed over the captive. "Where did you send Giorno Giovanna?"
The man was shaking, but he still glowered at Bucciarati. "I didn't send him anywhere. I didn't even know who he was!"
Bruno sighed and pulled back, allowing the chair to settle onto the ground again. "If you insist on being stubborn, I'm afraid I have no choice but to escalate things."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a knife. "I'll give you one more chance."
"I don't know anything!"
Bruno flicked his wrist and the knife landed with a thunk into the seat of the chair, right between the man's legs. He whimpered.
"Dammit, I missed," Bruno said blandly as he took out another knife, giving it a well-practiced spin.
"O-okay! Look, I really don't know where the dhampir is! I swear! I only hand stuff off to various auctions for a cut of the money. I have no idea where the stuff goes after that."
"Who did you hand Giorno over to?" Bucciarati demanded.
"Look, even if I give you the guy's name, he's not in town anymore and I don't know where he went."
"Give us the damn name," Abbacchio snapped.
"Costa, Nico Costa. But good luck finding him and getting him to tell you where your little dhampir is." The man bared his teeth in a sneer. "He's probably locked up as some noble's little pet now—"
Mista stepped forward and slammed a fist into the man's jaw, lip curled in fury. "Scum," he snarled.
"What do we do with him now?" Abbacchio asked, cracking his knuckles.
Bucciarati felt tired and furious as he turned back to Formaggio and Ghiaccio. "Can you take him with you when you go? Drop him off at Polpo's—he's committed crimes against the Hunters and will be punished accordingly."
Formaggio saluted. "Sure thing, Bucciarati. We'll all get to looking for that Costa bastard as well and any other leads that might come up."
"I appreciate it," Bucciarati replied as he watched the two Hunters go, dragging their quarry along with them.
"What do we do now?" Mista asked, Bucciarati's helpless fury reflected on the gunman's face. "Giorno could be anywhere. He might not even be in the city anymore."
"We start with Costa," Bucciarati replied. "We take apart the whole city if we have to. Look at any families that might have reason to buy a dhampir or that are known to deal in the black market. We do whatever we have to to find Giorno and bring him home."
Mista nodded and even Abbacchio had a determined look in his eye. Bucciarati was trying to hide his anxiety but the image of Giorno, the charismatic young man who had faced him without fear the first night they met and had become a valued member of their team, locked up in a cage somewhere at the mercy of a cruel noble's whims made him hope that anyone who might have harmed him eventually suffered the consequences.
And if they didn't, Bucciarati would see to it that they did.