Beneath Our Graves

Prologue

The creature ground its teeth, fangs sinking into its own flesh, saliva dripping down its chin. Burning red eyes glowed in the mist, its soft pants the only sound resonating through the silent graveyard. The ground squished beneath its feet, residue left from last nights rain, the lingering smell of wet grass and stone hanging heavy in the air.

A twig snapped, and the creature stood still, ears shifting towards the direction of the noise. Its eyes searched the mist, gazing past the headstones to the forest and dark night beyond. Clouds drifted away from the moon, and it hissed at the sudden wash of faint light, crouching low. Another twig snapped, and its head whipped in the direction of a chapel, old stone crumbling in the moonlight.

The creature leapt from one grave to the next, keeping low. It could hear soft chanting coming from behind the wooden door, the words distorted but nonetheless there. Its tongue slithered out between sharp teeth, testing the air. The faint tang of blood floated from under the door and its pupils dilated, drinking up the scent. Claws extended, digging into the palms of its hands, the smell of its own blood mixing in with another's in the air.

It crept forward, elongated nails clicking on the stone floor as it crawled into the chapel. The smell of the blood grew stronger as it looked between the rows of dark pews. Black replaced the whites of its eyes. It took a deep breath through the two slits of its nose, flicking out its snake-like tongue.

In a flurry of movement, a second creature flew from the darkness, crashing into the other's side. Claws slashed wildly at the air as they fought with an animalistic fervor, ripping into flesh, not bothering to feel if it was their own. A screech shot through the air as one bit the other, holding on like a vice. Its fangs sunk in deep, sucking the blood in great gulps with a passion.

"Stop," A voice rung out, and the beats fell still.

A tall figure stepped out from the shadows, but the darkness clung, turning him into a hazy silhouette. The creatures whimpered but didn't move, claws still stuck in one another's bodies.

"I thought I said to kill the girl, not each other."

An elegant hand reached out, fingers making a subtle flicking motion. The creatures flew apart, smacking into the walls opposite each other. Dust tumbled down from the rafters, landing on their heaving forms.

The figure walked towards the pulpit, long strides closing the distance quickly. He knelt before a statue, lowering his head to the frozen saint.

"I have failed you," the figure said, closing his eyes and withdrawing a long whip. He let a cloak fall from his shoulders, revealing his bare back.

He raised the whip, bringing it down on its back. The silver tip dug into his skin, and he gripped at a necklace, the metal cross burning his hand and leaving welts. Still, he raised the whip again and again, bring it down upon his back in a deranged rhythm, gripping the cross harder each time. Fangs slid out, and he bit his tongue, tasting blood. His red eyes opened, as with one final blow, he let the whip fall to the ground.

The creatures behind him had gotten up, and they slowly crawled over, nervously flicking their tongues. When the figure made no move, they sidled up behind him, slowly licking the blood from his back. It soon turned frantic as they lapped it up, sucking on the oozing wounds.

The figure knelt, letting the creatures do as they pleased. He stared up at the motionless saint, its stone hands cupped forward, as if offering him something.

"Forgive me, Father," the vampire said, rising. "I shall not let you down."

He turned slowly, sliding the cloak back onto his shoulders and pulling up the hood. The creatures followed at his heels, growling lowly at the crosses on the wall. The vampire, however, relished at the slow burn of the holy place. He flung open the wooden door of the chapel, stalking into the night.

"I shall not let you down."

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