Page 213 of Eternal Craving

Far off, crystal-like orange light flickered along the horizon, promising sweet relief.

The kind that’s permanent.

Turning away from the cliff’s edge, I stretched out my arms and fell backwards into oblivion.

Chapter Sixty-Six

MAY 1805

I gave myself over to it.

Inside the mausoleum, the same one that had been Sunaria’s resting place when I was a boy, I found some solace replaying my time with her, pretending she was near. I’d returned to Santiago de Compostela, hoping to remember in detail that first vision when she’d appeared to me. Being on holy ground, the tombs had not been torn down, and as though God had taken pity on me, I remained undisturbed.

And so I slept – on and off – for sixteen long years. Unconsciousness, my only respite, freed me from the harsh, glaring grief. On the rare occasion when I roused, I’d consider with fascination that I could survive without frequent feeding. It did result in exhaustion and a loss of will, but as such the drag of sleep came easier.

As society encroached, the noise outside my self-imposed prison increased. For the most part, I blocked it out, but as time and the elements wore away at the boundaries of my sacred resting ground, the time came for me to rise.

The faces of the two boys were preserved in my memory, though they’d have grown in years. They’d dressed as youngLords, so that at least would winnow away other suspects. Such a lead offered me hope that if I found them, I’d find Sunaria’s murderers.

I made my way to Palos.

Stopping off at a private residence, I found a change of clothes, grateful for the opportunity to freshen up. And feed.

The journey to the port provided proof of my longevity. I’d not changed like the landscapes around me, society ever enduring, ever evolving.

Upon my arrival, I arranged for my oak chest to be delivered to the largest sea-going vessel in the harbor and stored in my private cabin.

That feeling of being watched again stirred a familiar feeling, but I shook it off.

Returning to England possessed my thoughts, and I ruminated on what I’d find. Unfinished business beckoned.

Strolling along, I was captivated by the way fashions had changed, though the people seemed the same. They still went on with their miserable lives, working and playing as though completely unaware that within them time ticked away towards their inevitable demise. With nothing in common, the reality that I was an outsider rippled through my veins.

Even at this late hour, the place was crowded, and I pushed through the horde. Thick fog enveloped us, obscuring the docked ships, swirling around them.

A tall, slim figure loomed at the entrance to the pier. The man stepped out of the shadows, moonlight dancing upon his face, illuminating his features.

“Hello, Father.” Jacob tilted his head and smiled at me.

Almost three hundred years since his death and he stood there. His complexion was pale. His translucent brown eyes held my gaze. A young face, but irises that reflected the wisdom of histrue age, evidence of his transformation, and proof that he’d not died that night in my arms.

And yet I failed to react.

The agony of loss remained as fresh as the day the scar was inflicted. Fear and dread collided, and the sharpest truth cut through me – I had never known.

I hated myself for not sensing it, sensing this was Sunaria’s work.

“When I left the room?” I finally asked.

Jacob nodded.

This time upon our reunion, there were no open arms, no words to convey the relief I felt in seeing him.

Because I felt nothing.

Centuries had gutted my heart.

His appearance now devastated the last of my will to care, because I had cared too much and it had destroyed me.