Page 2 of Eternal Craving

I refused to let her go.

Her echoing presence lingers, as though she was somewhere out there calling to me. Even though I knew the truth, my mind hoped for the impossible – that she had survivedthem.

With a glance at the crimson glass, I’m reminded that it wasn’t always this way, though history is invariably distorted – skewed prose, old-fashioned perspectives deteriorating in unread books.

I, however, am a living historian.

Once, I had desired death but feared to drink from its cup. Such reticence has since waned.

Now I crave it.

I glanced over at the candle as it went dark, leaving a wisp of curling smoke to tease my nostrils. I had become distracted and drawn into the drama of the past, remembering that defining moment – the event that had changed everything.

Chapter One

SPAIN 1471

I glimpsed it coming out of the darkness.

More alarming, it saw me, too. Even at the age of nine, I knew well enough to remain still.

The bull would be attracted to movement.

I sucked in air, trying to fill my lungs, yet I still couldn’t catch my breath. Orange flames flickered from the few lit torches positioned around the empty arena.

He trotted toward me and then broke into a gallop. The ground shook and time slowed, making me feel a dream-like sense of reality. Hooves skidded to a stop, spraying up a cloud of dust. Sweat evaporated off his hide and a pungent aroma reached my nostrils.

Our eyes locked.

I bit down on my lip, fists clenched, fingernails digging into my palms, though I barely felt the pain.

He snorted, sniffed, and tilted sharp, devilish horns. My heart pounded, racing ever faster, and my hands shook as I rose to my full height and pulled my shirt over my head, hating those vulnerable seconds, being careful to minimize my movements.

He pawed the dirt.

“Control with composure.”My brother’s words, spoken to me long ago, conveyed his poise as a seasoned bullfighter.

The bull flicked his tail and snarled. I judged which horn he favored, indicating the direction he’d go.

He thundered towards me, his hooves rhythmically striking the ground, and I raised my make-shift cape. It brushed over his horns as he galloped past, swerving left, snorting. He turned to face me again, dipping his enormous head. My mouth dry, I tried to gulp back my fear, taking short breaths.

Large nostrils sniffed the air again. I steadied my hands and flicked the garment as he lumbered under my left arm, spraying up soil.

I backed up and he followed me, his head down.

My back struck the arena wall, trapping me between it and him. His stare met mine and seemed to cut through me. Those terrifying seconds seemed more like hours as they stole my breath away.

The ground vibrated, causing a billowing dark dust cloud to swallow us. I threw my shirt over his head and then dived to the right of his massive body. The material blinded him, and he plunged into the stone wall, horns scraping and grinding as he bellowed and shook his head.

I leaped to my feet and bolted over the enclosure, landing on the gravel, scraping my hands and knees. Still tasting the dirt he’d sprayed up, I turned awkwardly and peered back. The bull’s eyes bulged, his tail hung low between his legs as he trotted, searching. I sighed in relief, almost forgetting my stinging, bloodied knees.

Whack!

Pain exploded in my skull as I was thrown forward by the object that had struck my head. Through blurred vision, I lay looking up at three men, their shadowy figures looming over me, handkerchiefs pulled up to obscure their faces. The tallest of thethree tapped his fingers against his thigh. In his other hand, he grasped a wooden cudgel.

Chapter Two

The faint scent of roses.