Taking The Mantle

Chapter 25

Memorial services are common in my line of work. It's normal to lose ten to twenty men in a raid, especially when we're at war. The families of the deceased, a vast majority of the men, and even allies come to these gatherings. They're informal and loud; there's far more socializing than there is mourning or praying. But a family funeral is different.

It's a private affair. Only the family and our most trusted men. We fill the church, the same one we've lost so many people at, and for a few hours become devout Catholics.

The mass is done in Italian by Father Ralph. He was the Dean of the private school we all went to. He was a hardass and we were practically delinquents but for some reason he took to us. No matter how many times we got in trouble, he always granted forgiveness. He performed Enzo's christening, and his funeral now that I think about it. And today he performs Antonio's funeral.

He's the brother everyone expected to die first; his parents, our teachers, our men, and even me. He was always reckless and stubborn and his fondness of fire wasn't without injury. He was a tornado within a human body and I'm starting to miss the disasters he often made.

My body moves on autopilot throughout the service. A set of patterns drilled into me since I was little; kneel, stand, sit, kneel, sit, stand. The prayers flow through my lips with not a single thought. Bible verses are read, songs are sung, and incense fills the small church.

Rosa is at my side the whole time. Dark lace sits atop her head, a symbol of respect and innocence. I find myself itching to hug her, hold her hand, anything to keep me tethered to reality.

As though she can read my thoughts, Rosa slips her hand into mine. I look down at her with a small smile and squeeze her hand. She returns the gesture, offering a reassuring smile of her own. 

The mass ends and I step past Rosa towards the casket. Luca stands across from me as Rocco and a few more of our men line the sides. My hands shake as they wrap around the gold plated handle. In a slow and strained movement, the casket is lifted to our shoulders.

We carry the casket out of the church and into the back of a hearse. The sky is dark today, rain eminent, almost like God himself is mourning. I simply stand there and watch as the door to the hearse is slammed shut and the driver takes off.

"You okay?" I ask Luca.

He's standing beside me on the sidewalk, watching the vehicle drive away. I can see it in his face, he's been pushing down tears all morning.

"Yeah," he says, "let's get to the cemetery."

I nod in agreement and bound the stairs back into the church. Rosa and Victoria are waiting in the vestibule, speaking quietly to one another. Victoria has Elle in her arms and the little girl rests her head on her shoulder. Their conversation stops as I get closer.

"Talking about me?" I joke, wrapping my arm around Rosa's waist.

"Maybe," she shrugs in response.

"Is it time to go?" Victoria asks.

"Yeah," I nod before gesturing to the armored SUVs out front.

She nods and steps outside. Rocco is at her side in seconds and speaks to her in hushed tones as they descend the stairs. I lead Rosa outside as well, down to the sidewalk where our car awaits.

The back door is opened and Rosa slides inside. I climb in after her and immediately place my hand on her thigh. Neither of us say a word as the driver gets in and takes off. Rain begins to fall as we get closer, heavy drops that cling to the windows of the car.

The cemetery isn't too far and soon we are surrounded by green grass and headstones. The cars go until the road turns into dirt. The driver rounds the car to open the door. I urge Rosa out before doing the same. I open a large umbrella and hold it over her head.