Lexington

4. Vows

4. Vows

"Only the dead have seen the end of war." – Plato

"WE HAVE ENTRUSTED our brother James to God's mercy and we now commit his body to the ground: earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust: In sure and certain hope of the resurrection of eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ..."

The small group listened to the committal, heads bowed and arms clasped before them in respect. A soft gust blew through the trees, whispers of sad songs danced in the wind. The air felt cold and sharp and the sky was a dull grey. Lining the field before the group where hundreds of thousands of slabs of rock; tall crucifixes towered over small humble headstones. Despite the obvious attempts at displaying one's everlasting riches, the unruly grass continued to grow, and the dead still remained dead.

Hugo watched the glossed mahogany casket descend into the ground, swallowed by the grass and the dirt. He stood with his arms crossed, leaning on the support of a thick elm trunk. Adjusting himself in discomfort, he tugged on the black tie around his neck. He had never been one for funerals, despite the large amount his family had forced him to attend. They were repetitive and pointless.

He particularly sneered at the sight of his sister, who was holding a tissue to her eye and sobbing almost comically. Delia had always been the softest of the four since Hugo's earliest memory. She was always the one who would whimper first, the one who would break first, the loudest cry for mercy. She didn't weep quietly either. When she shed a tear, she would scream as if she was shedding the very skin on her bones. The look on her swollen face was almost always unappetising and the curl of her lips made you want to rip them from her face. At this moment, it took a lot of strength for Hugo to withhold from kicking his sister in the teeth. Her howling became annoying very quickly and today was not a good day for Hugo.

Firstly, it was early in the morning and the rare beams of light piercing the clouds almost burned his eyes. He had never liked being outside: he preferred dark underground lounges with plush velvet armchairs and smooth jazz music and whiskey and blood on tap. Secondly, the new suit he was in was giving him itches in all of the wrong places; knowing Hugo, he would be happy to strip down right away and walk home in his underwear. Worst of all, he was hungry. Having not had anything to eat since the previous day, he was waiting for this all to be over so he could tuck in to a nice meal.

A chorus of Amen brought Hugo's attention back to the miniature congregation. The priest held a sad smile on his face that he growled at with distaste. Delia had calmed down now, but continued to snivel loudly into Lance's shoulder. He looked just as irritated with her as Hugo had been which gave him some amusement. Everybody had somebody else in an embrace and the whole scene made Hugo sick. The praying, the crying – all of it was nauseating.

So he fleeted behind the priest and sunk his teeth into him.

A cry shot out from the crowd but Hugo's eyes were tight shut, his mouth filling with the bittersweet fluid. Blood spurted onto his tongue and spilled from his lips as the priest tried to struggle hopelessly. Hugo grunted, draining the priest of every last drop before ripping his head from his neck and throwing it into the grave with his brother.

"Rest in peace, James," he smirked, wiping the corner of his mouth with his fingers and licking them clean. He looked up from the grave and locked eyes with his sister. Her mouth was wide open; her cheeks stained black with make-up and tears. Lance stood next to her, giving Hugo a disapproving stare. "What?"he shrugged, "Our brother would want a little snack for the long night."

"Hugo, clean this up. I'll get everyone home," Lance took Delia in his arms and led her away from the cemetery. The rest of the group looked on at Hugo and the headless priest before leaving after Lance and Delia. Hugo sighed, removing his coat and blazer and rolling up his sleeves. He looked around for any sign of life - he even called out - but received no reply. He lifted the priest from the ground and lofted him into the hole, grimacing at the sickening crack of his bones against the casket. In the distance he heard a quiet tapping and crunching, he could smell the warm scent of blood in the air so he followed it to an old man, wheeling a shovel and a broken headstone into a rickety old shed.