Hello everyone! I'm back with more Vampire AU (the Christmas Special!) This is the first of a 2-parter and we will be seeing some of Fugo's backstory so be prepared for angsty whump.
Also a note that this is another standalone fic set after the intended "canon" storyline like "Bloody Masquerade" was. It contains brief spoilers for anyone who hasn't read through "Humanity and Eternity" but this can easily be enjoyed by readers at any point in the series :)
Christmas Present, Christmas Past
A JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Fanfic
(Vampire Hunter AU) After hearing of a series of vampire attacks in the mountains outside of Napoli, the team heads up there to look into it. For Fugo, Christmas time is already a bad time of year, and it doesn't help that the details of the case are bringing back bad memories on top of it. However, he can't help but feel a kinship with one of the victims and is determined to protect her from the vampire they're hunting, no matter the cost.
Part One
"I can't believe we have to spend Christmas up in the mountains this year!"
Fugo's brow pinched at Narancia's complaining, trying to bite back his own annoyance.
"There's still a week until Christmas, we might even be back before then," Mista tried to assure the younger Hunter.
"Besides, this is actually a really nice place," Trish chimed in, looking around at the admittedly rather opulent lodge they had been allowed to use as their headquarters.
"I know, but still! There's none of the bustle, the bakery treats, the caroling, the church bells…"
Narancia continued to mope as they carried all of their bags and equipment in and Fugo felt his annoyance building up to a boiling point.
"Can you please shut up for a few minutes at least?" he finally snapped. "I don't even see how Christmas is important when we have a vampire on the loose potentially in the process of creating a harem for himself! Get your damn priorities straight. Holidays are a luxury for civilians."
"Everyone is allowed to celebrate holidays!" Narancia snapped back. "You know what happens to people who hate Christmas, right? Ghosts show up and start to show you what a terrible person you are."
"That's enough," Bucciarati cut in as he entered the cabin and set his own bags on the floor. "Fugo is right, we need to concentrate on the case. In fact, I think we should start investigating the issue as soon as possible. Someone will need to conduct interviews with the victims—considering the delicate nature of the case, I think it might be best if I go and introduce myself to the staff as Hunting captain, but I would like at least one other teammate with me."
Fugo's stomach twisted at the thought of the victims, but he spoke up almost instantly. "I'll go, Bucciarati."
Bruno gave him a look that Fugo tried to ignore, but finally nodded.
"Alright. Abbacchio, I want the rest of you to start looking into witness reports and possible locations the vampire could be using to hide in."
Abbacchio nodded and started suiting up.
As everyone busied themselves with putting their bags into their designated rooms and getting ready for the investigation, Fugo rummaged for his notebook and pen swearing under his breath as he struggled to find it in his carpetbag.
Normally, he would be thrilled with the idea of a distraction over the holiday, but the nature of this particular case was drudging up memories he would rather not revisit.
Bucciarati found him a few minutes later as the others were conferring on where to start.
"Are you ready?" Bucciarati asked him.
Fugo nodded, finally dragging his notebook and pen roll from his carpetbag. "Yes."
Bruno's face turned serious then and he lowered his voice. "Are you sure you're going to be okay with this, Pannacotta?"
Fugo clenched his jaw but nodded firmly. "I'll be fine. I just…I know what they're going through—they deserve to have someone there who does."
Bucciarati exhaled slowly and nodded. "An admirable stance. Let's go see what we can do for them, then, shall we?"
They headed out to the carriage that had brought them up the mountain. It was cold, snow already covering the surroundings, and more falling down from the heavens. Fugo pulled his coat tighter and stepped into the carriage after Bucciarati.
It was a long drive and Fugo distracted himself by going over the case with the other Hunter.
"The first victim, Christiana Lucchesi, was attacked three weeks ago while her family was attending a party in the mountains. The second and third victims, Gina Longo and Maria Palermo, were both attacked within days of each other while riding near the foothills. The fourth and most recent victim, Fina Monaldo, was also attending a party and disappeared sometime late into the night and didn't reappear until the next day. All of the victims were young women between the ages of eighteen to twenty-one, all with, reportedly, the same bite marks on their necks. And as far as we know, none of them have been fully turned—of course, we won't be able to tell for sure until we actually see them."
Bucciarati nodded, musing over the information. "Presumably, the vampire in question is marking these women for the future. They will be subconsciously bound to him even if they don't realize it. Some have already exhibited signs of this."
Fugo nodded, furrowing his brow at the memory of one of the reports they had gotten. Apparently, one of the young women had attempted to escape her second story window in the middle of the night and suffered a broken ankle. Fugo still considered her the lucky one, however, since she had only been relegated to her bed, while the other victims had suffered a far worse fate.
Fugo glanced out the window toward the dark building looming out of the snowy fog. The perfect place to hide someone away you wanted nothing else to do with; a frozen prison perched up in the mountains so that even escape would mean possible death—though perhaps a demise much better than the living death that resided within.
He shook himself as the carriage came to a stop in front of the building. Bucciarati got out and turned to the coachman as Fugo stepped out behind him.
"We'll be a while," he said. "Please take the time to tend the horses and head inside when you're done. I'll make sure they give you something warm to drink in the kitchens."
The coachman nodded thankfully and headed over to the stables off to one side of the structure.
Fugo looked up at the grey stone and the barred windows as the freezing wind cut through him.
He startled slightly as a hand landed on his shoulder and looked over to see Bucciarati. "Are you sure you're okay with this? You know it's fine if you want to sit out in the stables."
"No," Fugo snapped, straightening his shoulders. "I told you, I'm fine. Let's go."
He pushed himself forward and the two Hunters entered the building.
For all the freezing wind outside, it felt so much colder within. Fugo could practically feel the pain and anguish within the walls. He wasn't entirely sure if he was hearing actual screams or if they were all in his head.
Unwanted memories started to seep in but he shut his eyes firmly and blinked as a figure appeared, heels clacking on the dingy, stone floor.
"You must be Signore Bucciarati."
The woman who greeted them was of late middle age, greying hair pulled back in a severe bun that made her severe face look even more so. Starched white apron and plain grey dress completed the look. Fugo instantly hated the way she looked down her nose at them as if already deciding they were wasting their time.
Despite this, Bucciarati, as always, was courteous and professional, pulling his Hunter's credentials out of his coat pocket. "Correct, Signora. This is my associate, Signore Fugo. As I stated in my message, we are here to speak with three of your patients."
The woman sniffed. "You can certainly try, but I doubt you'll get anything coherent out of them."
Fugo felt the rage boiling up within him but he forced himself to bite it back down. Of course they probably weren't coherent with the penchant of most sanitariums dosing their so-called invalids with horrific amounts of opiates.
"With respect, we'll be the judge of that," Bucciarati said firmly. "Your doctors may have missed some things that are obvious to those in our profession."
The woman sniffed again, but relented. "I'll have to take your word for it, but regardless, these girls are here for a reason. All of them are exhibiting unhealthy obsessions with a man of the same description. It is our job to cure them of it before they ruin their family name further."
"Of course—obviously that is the most important aspect of this case," Fugo couldn't help but cut in. "Not that there is a deviant preying on innocent women."
The nurse gave him a narrow-eyed look. "You are young yet, signore. You know nothing of the minds of young women."
"Perhaps not, but I know something of the minds of those in your profession."
Bucciarati cleared his throat and Fugo instantly backed off, realizing he was making them look bad. But he could still feel the blood surging through his veins, heart beating fit to burst at the fury he was holding back.
The woman clucked her tongue but didn't reply, simply leading them on further into the building.
She pulled out a ring of keys and unlocked a door that led only deeper. A sign on the wall next to it read "WOMEN'S WARD"
As soon as the heavy door was opened Fugo could definitely hear screams and moans and crying. The sounds hit him like a brick wall, blinking as he fought against more memories. Throat raw from screaming and still no one listened. Pleading didn't work, reason didn't exist here. Only money exchanging hands to get rid of a "problem", an "embarrassment".
But that's why he was were today, he reminded himself. He was here to listen. To be the one with reason. To show an ounce of human decency in a place devoid of it. Just like the man Fugo respected above all others had done for him.
The nurse stopped by a locked door and pulled out her keys again, disengaging the bolt on the door.
"This is Christiana Lucchesi," she said. "She was the first one to come in."
Bucciarati nodded and stepped inside. Fugo followed and the nurse hovered by the door. Fugo wanted to tell her to sod off, but realized it was probably policy.
Instead he turned his attention to the girl huddled in the back of the room on a small cot, hugging her knees to her chest as she leaned back against the wall, a spacy expression on her face. Fugo gritted his teeth, knowing the look well.
She barely glanced up as they came inside and Bucciarati took the chair by the small desk, sitting down as Fugo stood behind him, trying to look as unthreatening as possible.
"Signorina Lucchesi, I'm Bruno Bucciarati and this is Pannacotta Fugo. We're here to ask you a couple questions, if that's all right?"
She nodded slowly.
"The man who attacked you, do you remember what he looked like?"
She nodded again, a small smile spreading over her face. "He was…beautiful."
The nurse clucked her tongue. "Signorina, I told you there will be none of that—"
"Signora, if you would please stay silent while we conduct our interviews," Bucciarati cut in, holding up a dismissive hand to her.
Fugo felt no small pleasure seeing her put in her place, huffing under her breath as she folded her arms across her chest.
Unfortunately, the interview didn't reap a lot of information they didn't already know. Signorina Lucchesi seemed to remember little from her attack, except that it was very dark, and the man was not someone she had seen at the party. She did pull back the collar of her dressing gown to reveal the two red spots on the side of her neck however, which confirmed that there could be no doubt in the nature of her attack.
They moved on to the next victim, Signorina Longo and got mostly the same answers except since her attack had happened during the daytime, she could describe her attacker with more detail. Though her recollections were a little fuzzy considering she too had been dosed with opiates.
They finally moved on to the last victim at the sanitarium and Fugo was relieved to see that this girl was more lucid. This was Fina Monaldo, the latest victim and she looked up warily as the two Hunters entered and smoothed her clothing and dark, loose hair, looking somewhat embarrassed by her appearance. Fugo felt a pang of sympathy toward her.
"Signorina Monaldo, I'm Bruno Bucciarati—this is Pannacotta Fugp. Do you mind if we speak with you a bit?"
"Are you doctors?" she asked, glancing between them with an untrusting look in her dark green eyes.
"No, Signorina, we are Hunters," Bucciarati told her with a sincere smile as he sat down.
Signorina Monaldo glanced between them, lips parting in surprise. "But…why would Hunters be here? To speak with me? I thought that…that I…"
"That you were crazy?" Fugo asked blandly. "Because that's what everyone told you when you explained what happened to them?"
Those dark green eyes met his, blinking. "Well…yes. But, is it really true then? Was that man a—" she trailed off, glancing toward the nuse standing in the doorway.
"Don't pay her any mind," Bruno said firmly. "We do believe that the man who attacked you and the other girls was a vampire, yes."
She inhaled sharply, and brought her fingers up to her throat. "But…if that's true then…then am I…?"
Tears began to well in her eyes and Bucciarati instantly reached out and took her hand, squeezing gently. "Please do not fret, Signorina, there is no need to quite yet. Just answer a couple questions for me and we will be able to give you a definitive answer."
She nodded jerkily. Fugo silently passed her a handkerchief and she dabbed at her eyes.
"How exactly did you meet this man?"
Signorina Monaldo pressed her lips together. "I was at a party and I got warm from dancing so I just stepped outside for some fresh air. There was a little back patio off the mansion and it was so quiet looking out at the stars that I lost track of time. That was when he showed up."
"Had you seen him at the party?" Bucciarati asked.
She shook her head. "No. He was dressed in riding clothes, not a formal suit. And I would have known if I had seen him before. There was something about him…enthralling. His eyes were so strange and alluring, the color of rubies. I couldn't help but feel drawn to him, and I don't know why. Just the way he spoke to me made me feel calm. I didn't even realize he had gotten so close, I was so lost in his eyes. But by then it was too late." She stopped, breath quickening.
"Take your time," Bruno said quietly. "I understand this might be difficult."
Signorina Monaldo nodded gratefully, taking a deep breath before she continued. "I don't really remember what happened after. Only that he grabbed hold of me and there was a pain in my neck." Her fingers touched the spot again. "After that I came to my senses and tried to push him away. I screamed and it alerted some of the other people at the party. But all they saw when they got there was a man dashing away into the darkness and no one else around to corroborate what had happened. It was…well, I tried to explain that he attacked me, but no one was willing to believe it. My parents were furious, said I was ruined and sent me here." She choked slightly and Fugo clenched his hands at his sides, fingernails digging into his palms. "Oh, Signore Bucciarati, could you please explain to them what happened? I'd very much like to go home."
Bucciarati took her hand once more. "I will do what I can," he promised. "Rest assured, we are here to see that this man, this vampire, doesn't continue his attacks."
"Thank you," she said in a half sob. "I truly though that I was going insane."
"You're not, I promise you that," Fugo told her firmly. "Whatever these people here try to tell you, remember that what happened to you was not some fabrication of guilt. You are a victim of an attack, nothing more. None of this was your fault."
She looked at him with teary gratitude. "That's very kind of you to say, Signore."
"One more question, Signorina," Bucciarati said. "Did he make you drink anything?"
Signorina Monaldo furrowed her brow. "No, I don't believe so."
"That's good," Bucciarati replied, relief in his own voice. "That means that you are not in danger of turning from his bite. However, I'm sure you have noticed that you are experiencing an uncanny pull, particularly after the sun sets. Perhaps especially in your dreams?"
"How did you know?"
"He has marked you through that bite," Fugo said grimly. "So that he can find you and you can find him."
The look of terror that crossed the young woman's face made Fugo feel slightly bad about what he had said, but he also knew that lying to her at this point when so many others had done so would do her no favors.
"In reality, you are probably safer here currently than you would be anywhere else," Fugo added bitterly.
"But why does he want me at all?" Signorina Monaldo asked.
"For any number of reasons, none of them good," Bucciarati admitted. "But we are actively looking for him, and I promise that my team will not let him harm any of you further."
Signorina Monaldo nodded shakily.
The nurse at the door stepped aside as another nurse, perhaps even more severe than their guide, came in with a rolling cart.
To Fugo's horror, Signorina Monaldo suddenly manifested a terrified look on her face. "No, please! I don't want to take any more of that—it makes me feel so strange and heavy."
"It's for your benefit," the woman snapped. "If you fight me on taking your medicine again, I'll have you strapped down and put a tube down your throat."
Fugo saw red, slamming a hand down on the cart and snatching the bottle of opiates.
"You call this filth medicine?" Fugo snarled. "This will only cause the so-called manic behavior you're accusing her of exhibiting."
"And are you a doctor to be so bold as to argue with a professional diagnosis?" the woman snapped.
"Not a doctor, a Hunter," Fugo snapped. "And in my professional opinion this young woman had been marked and stalked by a vampire. She is not hysterical, she is in danger, and shoving opiates down her throat will not aid her one bit."
"This is what the doctor prescribed her and it's what she will be given," the woman said with some cruel satisfaction that made Fugo want to explode as she held her hand out like an unimpressed school mistress for him to hand her back the bottle.
"Actually, signora, it might be best to hold off for now," Bucciarati cut in firmly. "Opiates can have an adverse effect when combined with vampire venom—I would suggest the same for the other victims. If the doctor has an issue with that, I would be happy to speak with him."
It was all hokum but Fugo was grateful to Bucciarati for stepping in before he did anything he would truly regret—though if he were being honest with himself, he didn't think he would regret much at all.
The nurse's smug face fell into one of disapproving sternness. "You men just don't know how to handle young women. You coddle them too much. It will do them no good."
"That is not my place to say," Bucciarati said, voice tight in a way that Fugo could tell he too was holding back anger. "However, I will ask you to trust my professional opinion this time, signora."
"Fine then. But if the girl falls back into hysterics, she must take her medicine as the doctor prescribed."
She snatched the bottle back from Fugo and wheeled the cart out violently.
Signorina Monaldo was still shaking, clutching the handkerchief between her hands. "Thank you, Signore Fugo. I am extremely grateful to you."
Fugo could only nod, throat too tight for words.
Bucciarati also seemed to be done with the place because he turned to the nurse. "Thank you for your time. We will see ourselves out."
They walked swiftly back down the hall as Fugo tried and failed to unclench his hands, only his gloves keeping him from piercing his palms with his fingernails.
"I hate leaving them here," he growled under his breath. "They'll just suffer more abuse."
"Hopefully, we bought them a little time," Bruno replied, voice also tight.
"What the hell does it matter?" Fugo snapped louder than he had intended. "You think their families will take them back even if we prove they were genuine victims? They're already marked as 'ruined' by societal standards."
Bucciarati's jaw tightened. "We'll get to that once we find the vampire. The more pressing issue is the antidote. Since none of them drank the vampire's blood as far as I can tell, they have the chance to return to humanity."
"The chance, yes, but are they strong enough?" Fugo mused grimly. "Melone's been working on making the formula less harsh, but there's still no guarantee of survival."
"That will have to be a decision each of the young ladies makes on their own," Bucciarati replied. "A life in limbo is torment enough. It could cause them to fall into true insanity, especially if we are forced to kill the vampire in question."
Fugo nodded. He knew well enough the effects a vampire bite with this sort of intent could have on someone. It bred obsession, adoration for the vampire until the victims were forced to seek him out and drink his blood to turn fully lest they go insane.
They headed to the stables where the coachman was hitching up the carriage again and were soon headed back to the lodge they were staying at.
"Let's hope that the others might have been successful in their investigations," Bucciarati said.
Fugo nodded. He suddenly wanted this case to be over. He might even prefer forced Christmas celebrations to this.
"It's time to go, Pannacotta."
He huffed a sigh and trudged out to the carriage with his parents and brother. He hated going to parties. There was never anything to do, and he despised the fake niceties that his parents and their friends made to each other between talk of politics and business and marrying their children off to each other. He had tucked a book into his coat this time, however, and he was hoping to be able to slip away and hide in a dingy corner to read for the night.
The party was just as loud and annoying as he had expected. He couldn't help but pick out the fake pleasantness on the faces of the hosts as they greeted his parents. He hated how fake everyone was at these parties. He hated how fake his parents were. At least they always had the decency not to pretend with him. Fugo knew he was a disappointment. Was never left in any doubt of that despite how hard he tried and how he had better marks in his school work than even his older brother did. He sometimes thought they all despised him simply because he wasn't willing to pretend.
He slipped away as soon as possible and succeeded in finding a corner to sit in where he would hopefully be out of the way.
He managed to escape notice for a good hour before his father found him, a look of anger on his face.
"There you are. What are you doing hiding here, Pannacotta? You need to be attending the party, putting on a good impression."
"I don't see what I will really contribute," Pannacotta replied.
"You contribute by being part of the Fugo family," his father snapped. "You are thirteen now, Pannacotta, that is more than old enough to put on a good show in society—especially for someone with your level of intelligence. Come, do not make me tell you again."
Pannacotta swore silently enough that his father didn't hear and slammed his book shut, getting to his feet. He tried counting to ten to ease the anger. He was getting better at it, but it was still hard to master.
He reluctantly made his way toward the bustling ballroom. Everything was decorated for the season. With Christmas coming up, the halls had certainly been decked with all manner of greenery.
"It's nice to see a fellow reader at such a party as this."
Pannacotta glanced up to see a man standing in the shadows between the two rooms. He was about his father's age, and looked friendly enough.
"May I ask what you're reading, young man?"
"Plutarch," Pannacotta replied.
"His Lives? An excellent choice. I see you're quite the studious young man."
Pannacotta shrugged a bit self-consciously. "I enjoy history."
"Do you now? Well, then how about I show you something."
Pannacotta glanced around. "Well, my father insisted that I join the party."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. The host is my brother, you know. He won't mind. It's such a shame to keep a young man from the finer arts."
"Well, alright, but only for a little bit."
"Our secret," the man said with a jovial smile and motioned for Pannacotta to follow him.
They walked down a long hallway until the man stopped by a door and opened it up.
"It's no Alexandria, but I'm sure you'll agree it's a fine collection."
Pannacotta couldn't help but gape at the sight before him. Shelves upon shelves of books. Even the university library didn't have this many and he could already see so many titles he had been itching to get his hands on.
The man chuckled at his reaction as Pannacotta practically surged into the room.
"I thought you might like to see this."
"It's fantastic," Pannacotta gasped. "Thank you for showing me this, Signore."
"It's my pleasure," the man said with a small bow. "Take all the time you want. Like I said, it will be our little secret."
Fugo started awake as the carriage thudded over a bump in the road. He shook himself slightly, brushing away the old memories with sleep as Bucciarati glanced across the carriage at him.
"All right?" he asked.
Fugo sighed, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose. The headache was still nagging. He wasn't sure if it had to do with the altitude or the situation as a whole.
"Fine," he muttered.
It wasn't long before they pulled up in front of the lodge again. The others had also returned by then and everyone gathered to share information around the fire in the parlor with hot chocolate to stave off the cold.
Bucciarati gave a brief rundown of the information he and Fugo had gotten from their interviews with the victims and then the others chimed in with what they had found.
"Between the actual sightings, attacks and rumors, we were able to triangulate a possible area where the vampire is most likely hiding out," Giorno said, spreading a map over the coffee table between them.
Abbacchio leaned forward to tap his finger against a spot they'd circled on the map. "There's apparently an abandoned timber camp up there with some cabins still standing. It's out of the way, and difficult to get to so it doesn't get a lot of visitors. If I were hiding out in this area, that's probably where I would go."
"Are there any potential events in the area that might draw him out?" Bucciarati asked. "Any parties happening?"
"There's bound to be a few this close to Christmas," Mista commented. "But we only heard of a couple and we made a point to tell the hosts to make sure everyone stays inside and that everyone pays attention for any strangers hanging around."
Bucciarati nodded. "That's all we can do for now. I'd like a few of us to head up to those cabins first thing in the morning. How far are they from here?"
"Just a straight walk up the mountain and a little to the north," Abbacchio said. "We were told it was about a forty minute hike from here."
Bucciarati nodded. "We'll leave at dawn."
Fugo got up with the intent to go and transcribe his notebook but Narancia hopped up. "Hey, if we're not working until the morning, then can we maybe have a little get-together tonight? We can make something nice for dessert, and did you all know there's a pianoforte here? Fugo, you can play some carols and we can sing!"
"I'm too busy to do that," Fugo snapped. "Besides, we're still on a mission."
"Come on, man, loosen up a little," Mista tried to cajole him, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "We can't go up there in the dark. Let's relax for the night so we'll be fresh in the morning."
Fugo pulled away from the Hunter. "Exactly why I plan on getting an early night's sleep after dinner."
He ignored the others as Trish offered to play the pianoforte and made his way to the small study where he set up at the writing desk.
He worked until dinner and then excused himself shortly after, headache worsening.
"You haven't even had dessert yet!" Narancia protested.
"At least join us for a few minutes, it's still rather early," Trish cajoled.
"I'm not interested in Christmas celebrations, and I have work to do," Fugo said firmly as he left the dining room to head back to the study.
He sighed as he got to work transcribing his notes again. Even re-writing the conversations for the sake of posterity was proving difficult, recalling the state of the girls. He refused to think that Signorina Monaldo had been forced to take the opium as soon as he and Bucciarati had left. He wasn't sure he could stand it if that happened. Perhaps it was simply projection, but there was something in Fina Monaldo that reminded him of himself. Something of a desperation to be understood.
He furrowed his brow as he could hear the piano and singing from further in the house. His pen scratched more heavily against the paper, threatening to dig through entirely. He truly wished everything wasn't culminating at once like this. If this case had happened in the summertime it would have at least lessened the blow slightly.
The singing finally stopped and he was able to finish up his work. He was somewhat surprised when Trish knocked on the door and came in with a small plate and cup of tea on a tray.
"We saved you some dessert," she said with a smile. "Narancia said almond pastry was a favorite of yours."
Fugo felt a pang of guilt. He knew it wasn't fair that he was so standoffish when he wasn't even willing to explain why he hated Christmas. Maybe Narancia was right and he was no better than Ebenezer Scrooge.
"Fugo, I don't mean to pry," Trish started as she put the tray down. "But why do you hate Christmas so much?"
Fugo huffed a sigh, taking his glasses off briefly to rub at his eyes. "It's not that I hate Christmas," he muttered. "It's just not a very good time of year for me. It brings back…a lot of bad memories."
Trish touched his hand sympathetically. "It can be a difficult time of year. I love it, I always have, but this is the first year I've celebrated Christmas without my mother, and last year she was so ill she couldn't really celebrate the way we usually did. It's a bit bittersweet, I suppose, but I genuinely love this family I'm now a part of. I think it's still important to enjoy our time together when we get the chance. We don't have a lot of time for that."
Fugo watched the steam rise from the cup of tea and allowed his shoulders to slump a bit. "You're right. I suppose it is Scroogish of me to hide away. I just don't want to dampen anyone's good time."
"I promise you won't," Trish told him with a fond smile and leaned over to give him a brief hug. "Perhaps this year both of us will have the opportunity to make new, good memories."
Fugo forced a brief smile. "Perhaps."
"Don't stay up too late," Trish told him as she left the study.
Fugo let out a long sigh and turned to his tea and pastry. It was really good, and maybe it did make him feel a little better.
He finished quickly and left for his room.
There wasn't a fireplace there and it was cold. Fugo undressed quickly and slid into bed, shivering. At least there were extra blankets, which he gladly piled up on top of himself.
He glanced toward the window. The moon was so bright it was shining through the curtains, casting a calming glow over the snow outside.
He had hoped that he would have been tired enough from the day's events to sleep soundly, but instead, old memories he wished he could forget found their way into his dreams, making his sleep restless.
"You will be on your best behavior tonight. No more running off, understand?"
Pannacotta nodded silently, seething. He hated this time of year. Two parties within the same week and now it was Christmas Eve which meant that everyone would be there at least until midnight to ring in the holiday—or rather to drown it in liquor. Pannacotta was sure there would be more than a few hungover individuals at church service in the morning.
He was even more annoyed that this party would be held at their mansion. There would be no begging off to bed, for he'd never be able to sleep with all the ruckus. He almost wished it would be hosted by the same family as last time. That way he could at least sneak off to the amazing library again.
Of course, that hadn't exactly gone over well. His parents had been furious when they had found out where he was. If it hadn't been for Pannacotta's new friend, whose name he hadn't even gotten, his father would have probably beaten Pannacotta on the spot, embarrassing him on top of berating him. Pannacotta supposed he should be thankful that his father had waited until they had gotten home and then had switched Pannacotta's hands so hard he could barely hold a pen for two days after.
He clenched his still somewhat bruised hands as he tried to fight back the swelling anger.
He did as he was told though, standing with his family as they made their rounds of greeting the guests.
Pannacotta finally slinked away to the refreshment table as his father was busy engaged in conversation with one of the other men about politics.
It was then that Pannacotta caught on to a conversation that was happening between three women standing off to one side of the table with glasses of punch.
"Another one? Are you positive, Liliana?"
"It was in the papers this morning—another poor little thing, found dead in the streets in a terrible way." She clucked her tongue and leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a gossiping whisper. "They say it's a sex maniac, but all of the bodies have had those marks on their necks. You know—fang marks."
Pannacotta frowned. He had seen a couple stories in the papers about young girls turning up dead recently, but he was never overly fond of the sensationalism of the papers. He knew that vampires usually liked to keep to themselves, especially the families. Even if they were killing civilians, Pannacotta was sure they might be more discreet about it. And then there was the…other aspect of the killings. It was disgusting, but Pannacotta had thought that it was more likely to be a deviant maniac and the press was making it sound like a vampire because the common man seemed to find it impossible to understand that humans could be monsters too.
"Well, if the girls allow themselves to be wooed away by these creatures, I don't really know what they expect," one of the ladies commented unhelpfully. "Though I am rather surprised that the Hunters haven't found this beast yet."
"Why, there's my young friend—what a pleasant surprise!"
Pannacotta looked up and saw the man who had showed him the library standing next to him, holding a glass of punch. He managed to muster a small smile and shook the man's hand.
"It's good to see you again, Signore. I apologize for the scene I caused last time."
"Not at all," the man waved a hand in dismissal. "I only felt bad for you. Clearly your father does not see how valuable your mind truly is."
Pannacotta felt slightly self-conscious at the man's words, but he couldn't exactly deny the fact he had thought that himself on multiple occasions. "He's just a man that puts more value in success and less in knowledge."
"And both have their place in the world," the man agreed. "However, true success is often dictated by true knowledge, wouldn't you agree?"
Pannacotta nodded eagerly. "Yes, exactly."
"Such a shame that few will ever understand that," the man sighed but the smile returned to his face soon enough. "But I'm glad I found you, young Pannacotta. I actually have a little Christmas gift I was hoping to give to you."
"For me?" Pannacotta asked in surprise.
"Yes, from one appreciator of the fine arts to another," the man said. "Would it be all right to give it to you?"
Pannacotta nodded, feeling a little put on the spot. "Perhaps we should go into my father's study though. I don't think I should open it here."
"Quite right, shall we?"
Pannacotta led the man out of the ballroom and toward the study. He flicked the lights on and smiled with a bit of embarrassment as the man handed him a small rectangular package wrapped neatly in brown paper and twine.
Pannacotta unwrapped it carefully as the man watched and revealed a heavy book.
"Gibbon's Rise and Fall," Pannacotta said in surprise. "I've been wanting to read this."
"It's a good place to continue after reading Plutarch, so I thought I would equip you with the first volume."
Pannacotta smiled genuinely for the first time since he had set eyes on the library. "I truly appreciate that you thought of me. Thank you."
"Of course, my boy," the man said, settling a hand on Pannacotta's shoulder. "I tend to be rather fond of my young friends. I like to treat them."
"I actually…never got your name?" Pannacotta said, suddenly embarrassed that he hadn't bothered to ask before.
"Ah, how rude of me! I assumed you knew who I was," the man said. "But then, I suppose I have been abroad for a few years."
He pulled out a calling card and handed it to Pannacotta. "I'm Piero DeLuca."
Pannacotta nodded and took the card. "Thank you. I was wondering, do you mind if…I send you a letter on occasion? If I have a question about something?"
"My dear boy, I would be happy to answer any questions you might have. In fact…" His hands settled rather heavily on Fugo's shoulders but he knew the man was just being friendly, even if he wasn't entirely fond of too much close contact. "Why don't you come for tea the day after Christmas? I'd be happy to chat."
"I'd love to," Pannacotta replied.
The thoughtful gift and the promise of intelligent discussion with DeLuca made enduring the holiday celebrations that year not quite so unbearable. On the day after Christmas, Pannacotta made his way to the DeLuca mansion and was shown into the huge library where DeLuca was waiting for him.
"Ah, there you are, my young scholar! Come. I just rang for tea and it should be here shortly."
Pannacotta sat and spoke with the man for nearly an hour straight between cups of tea and pastries. He finally got up to peruse the shelves as DeLuca sat in his comfortable chair, watching him.
"Tell me, Pannacotta, what are your thoughts on the supernatural?" DeLuca asked.
Pannacotta cocked his head in thought. "The vampire families have definitely been influential. To be honest, I don't have much opinion on the matter otherwise."
"Hmm," DeLuca hummed thoughtfully. "And what of these child murders that have been happening? Do you think they are truly the work of a vampire?"
Pannacotta snorted as he turned to place a book he had been flipping through back on the shelf. "Hardly. I think it's the local rags trying their best to make the most sales with their sensationalism. Why would a vampire choose a child above a grown adult or a creature with more blood in its veins?"
"An interesting perspective," DeLuca said. "But what if it's not so much about the blood and more about the fact that the murderer in question simply has…particular tastes."
Pannacotta felt a chill run down his spine at the sound of DeLuca's voice suddenly directly behind him. He spun around and found that DeLuca was hemming him in.
"What are you doing?" Pannacotta demanded, all of a sudden very wary.
"Shh." DeLuca reached out and brushed his knuckles over Pannacotta's cheek. "Be a good boy and don't struggle."
His eyes suddenly flashed red, and his lips parted, revealing lengthening fangs.
Pannacotta's body went into fight of flight response and he dashed away, running for the door that seemed so far away now.
DeLuca was too fast for a man his size, however, he caught up with Pannacotta and grabbed his arm, hauling him back and holding him tightly against him, hands groping inside his coat, reaching for his collar. Pannacotta heard the disgusting wet sound as he licked his lips.
"Get off!" he snarled, struggling. "Help!"
A cruel chuckle escaped the man—the monster—who held him. "No one will hear you all the way in here. Books are very good insulators."
He hauled Pannacotta over to a large desk on one side of the room and threw him down onto it. Pannacotta's head bounced off the hard surface. He saw stars, but instantly started fighting as DeLuca loomed over him, fangs glistening with saliva.
"Get off! Get off!" Pannacotta cried, kicking and flailing until he finally loosened the man's grip. He grabbed the first thing he found off the desk, a heavy tome, and heaved it up.
The book slammed into DeLuca's head and sent him reeling.
"You bastard!" Pannacotta cried, tears leaking from his eyes, unable to comprehend the feeling of utter betrayal he was currently experiencing. "I looked up to you! I trusted you!"
"For what it's worth, I like you a lot," DeLuca grunted, staggering to his feet, blood running down his face. "But I find myself having a harder time fighting my urges and I simply cannot resist the sight of your soft flesh—the smell of your fresh young blood."
Pannacotta's hand clenched around the first thing it came to and he brought it up with a scream as DeLuca lunged at him again.
The glint of silver flashed in the dim lamplight as Pannacotta slammed the letter opener directly into the man's chest.
DeLuca's eyes went wide in shock, staggering back before he fell to his knees, blood dribbling from his mouth.
Pannacotta didn't know what happened next. He vaguely remembered getting off the desk, lunging forward and taking hold of the handle of the silver blade, stabbing it deeper, before pulling it out and stabbing it again. Making sure it went deep enough.
The next thing he knew he was sitting on the library floor, hands coated in blood as DeLuca stared lifelessly up at the ceiling, retracting fangs coated in his own blood. Pannacotta's hands shook as he sobbed in fury until the door opened and someone screamed.
Fugo jolted awake in a panicked sweat. He ripped at the covers, fumbling on his side table for a box of matches to light a candle, grabbing for his glasses with shaking hands.
It took him a few moments to confirm that his hands were not coated in blood, and then he forced his eyes closed and worked on evening his breathing, counting slowly to ten between inhales.
He was still slightly shaky as he got up and headed toward the window. He was hesitant to open it since he knew it would only let freezing air in, but he needed a shock to his system right now.
He yanked the curtains aside and was about to unlock the window when he caught sight of something out there in the moonlit forest.
Fugo blinked, unsure of whether he was actually seeing what he thought he was, but as he watched, he realized he couldn't be mistaken.
A figure made its way between the trees, walking purposefully without light or guide. As it came closer to the lodge, Fugo saw that it was a woman. And not just any woman. As she turned slightly toward the lodge, he recognized her as Fina Monaldo.
Nightmares were the last thing on Fugo's mind now. He hurriedly threw on clothes and ran out into the hall, banging on Bucciarati's door across from him.
"Bucciarati!"
The vampire appeared almost instantly, apparently not having been asleep. "What's wrong?" he demanded, echoing the sleepy questions that arose from the others as the rest of the doors down the hall were opened.
"It's Fina Monaldo—she's walking out there in the forest!" Fugo said in a rush.
Bruno instantly reached for his heavy cloak and turned to the others. "Get dressed and arm yourselves. We need to get out there now."
Fugo rushed back to his room to grab his gun and dashed outside before the others.
He hurried to the part of the forest he had seen Fina walking in, but she didn't seem to be around anymore.
Fugo was breathing heavily as he dashed uphill, feet sinking and slipping in the snow. He swore as he tripped and nearly landed on his face. How the hell had she gotten around so fast?
He finally spotted her up ahead, disappearing into the frozen trees and sped up. "Signorina Monaldo! Fina!"
He finally caught up to her and grabbed her by the shoulders, halting her progress. She stopped, swaying slightly as if confused as to what to do next. Fugo realized she was only in her dressing gown and house slippers and yet she wasn't even shivering.
"Signorina Fina, can you hear me?" he demanded, shaking her slightly to try and wake her from whatever daze she was in.
Fina blinked her eyes and shook slightly before she finally looked up and focused on Fugo's face.
"S-Signore…Fugo?" she asked hesitantly. "What…wh-where am I?"
She looked around and started to shiver. Fugo instantly took his coat off and tucked it around her shoulders, pulling an arm around her to lead her back toward the lodge.
"It's all right. Let's get you somewhere warm for now, okay?"
He didn't even know how she had gotten out here. He knew as the crow flew the sanitarium was only a couple miles down the mountain, but it wasn't an easy hike, especially in this weather and as poorly dressed as Fina was. That left only one explanation—that she too was feeling the call of the vampire who had bitten her.
"There she is!"
Fugo looked up, hand going to his gun as several men rushed out of the woods.
"We'll take the girl off your hands, signore," one said as he stomped up and reached for Fina.
"Who the hell are you?" Fugo demanded.
"We're from the sanitarium," one of the men said. "The girl escaped her room somehow. We've been searching for her for the last hour."
"No, please—I don't want to go back!" Fina cried, clinging to Fugo, icy fingers digging into his arm desperately.
"Come along now none of that," one of the men growled and grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her from Fugo's grip. "We'll get you taken care of properly soon enough."
"Stop that!" Fugo shouted, furious as he watched the men tighten their grip on Fina, hauling her back toward the road where there was likely a carriage waiting to trap her. "She's not some animal! You'll hurt her!"
"She's not of sound mind," one of the men said firmly. "She needs to be where she can get proper care."
"I know what you call 'proper care'!" Fugo spat, taking another step forward as one of the large men stopped him with a firm hand on his chest. "I swear if you hurt her more than she's already been hurt—"
"Fugo," Giorno called, hurrying up to them as quickly as he could in the deep snow. "He's right. She'll be safer at the sanitorium. The vampire won't be able to reach her there."
"You don't know a damned thing!" Fugo snapped, whirling on the other Hunter. "No one is safe there."
Giorno pursed his lips. "I don't agree with their ethics either, but at the moment isn't it better that the girls have a place where the vampire is less likely to get access to them?"
"Don't fucking patronize me!" Fugo snarled, shoving Giorno in the chest.
"That wasn't my intent," Giorno snapped. "I can tell this is personal to you, Fugo, but remember, we still have a job to do here. That vampire is calling these women to him. We don't have a lot of time. If he finds out that Hunters are on his trail, he might turn his next target fully on the spot."
Fugo seethed through gritted teeth, but he knew that Giorno was right. He glanced down the hill to where he could still hear Fina fighting against the men and squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm aware of the situation," he said shortly. "I need to check something."
He turned around and began trudging up the hill again toward the point where Fina had been heading. He could have sworn he had seen another set of footprints in the snow coming from the opposite direction, but he had been too busy to check and see for sure before.
He reached for a lighter in his pocket to supplement the moonlight. He crunched through the snow and headed back to the spot.
Sure enough, there were other footprints there, large—unmistakably a man's.
A low rumble began, causing him to frown and look around, trying to find the source of it. It was then he realized that it wasn't just audible, he could feel it too, the ground shaking under his feet.
He could hear distant shouting and glanced down toward the lodge to see several of the team standing there looking upward.
It took him a second to make out what they were saying but finally he heard it at the same moment he came to his own realization.
"Avalanche!"
Fugo spun around and saw the huge cloud of white rolling down the mountain, throwing up snow. He whirled to sprint downhill, barely dodging trees as he did, feeling the snow licking at his heels.
But he wasn't going to make it. He knew as soon as it caught his legs that he was going down. He tried to fight against it, but the rolls of snow were heavy as they crashed over him. He tumbled with it for a few dizzying seconds before he came to an abrupt and painful stop, and then everything went black.