Page 53 of Eternal Craving

A feeling of solace replaced euphoria.

“Avoid daylight.” Sunaria’s voice sounded distant.

Shuddering, I passed through Death’s dark veil as she faded from sight, like a memory out of focus.

I awoke in the dark to find myself slumped against the post in a deserted courtyard, untied.

No sign of Sunaria.

Had she even been here?

My clothes were blood-soaked. I poked around my abdomen, searching for wounds that weren’t there. No pain. No scars. Just blood.

At my feet, a monstrous vision of a dead soldier, his skin pale and leathery, his mouth open in a silent scream. I looked away, all the while removing the knife from his belt. My vision was sharp, lines more defined, and despite the dark, colors appeared vibrant.

No time for madness.

A lump caught in my throat. Salvador’s body lay at the end of the courtyard. I had a strange memory of Ricardo’s sword tearing into me. I traced my tongue along the crimson smudges on my fingertips and headed into the house.

Searching Felipe’s desk, I found the warrant that transferred my estate into his name. I held it over a lit candle, and it flared brightly and then disintegrated, but not before the flame burned my thumb. I sucked on the burn, trying to cool it. When I reexamined my hand, there was no redness and no blister.

I approached the painting of Belshazzar’s feast. With a rip, the canvas tore out of its frame. Taking a moment, I studied the rich strokes of Belshazzar’s golden coat. The portrait’s meaning:the writing was on the wall, obscurely highlighting the fact I should have known Felipe’s cruelty would find me again.

Felipe had lied about everything. I’d exposed not only myself to danger but also my family.

I returned to the courtyard and dug into the soil with my bare hands, carving out a hollow for the painting. Then I carefully rolled up the canvas, placed it inside, and covered it with earth, hiding it away until I could decide what to do with it.

For a moment, I considered searching for Ricardo, but my usual sensitivity eluded me. Recollecting the metal blade striking my spine sent a sliver of pain radiating up my back. Such a strike would be deadly.

I returned to Salvador.

In a trance-like state, I lifted his body and carried him through the desolate house, not surprised to find a dead guard lying at the front door. Stranger things had befallen me tonight.

I stepped over the body and disappeared into the night.

I was going to have to tell Alicia what had happened and break her heart – her one true love had died. I, too, had lost my closest friend and it was unbearably heart-wrenching. Ifound an abandoned shovel leaning up against a tilting grave. The peacefulness of the churchyard was tranquil enough, but Salvador deserved better, an honorable tombstone to mark a life well-spent.

As I poured the last few handfuls of soil over him, I swore revenge. My hands were filthy, and black dirt was engrained beneath my fingernails. I wanted to wash it off, wash away this pain. The thought of Salvador waking to find himself beneath layers of earth made me fling myself at his grave and begin to dig.

When I reached his cold hand, I groped for his wrist, fumbling for a pulse.

Misery, I know thee.I held his mottled palm, planting kisses there, smearing my lips with soil. Weeping, refusing to let him go, my cries echoed, releasing a wellspring of grief.

On the horizon, the glint of dawn approached, and an uncommon fear persuaded me to tuck Salvador’s hand back. A burning sensation crawled over my flesh as darkness faded, and an irrational terror gripped me at the sight of the impending daylight.

Searching for somewhere to shelter, I ran past row upon row of slanted gravestones, the names of the departed as worn away as their memories.

At the center of the cemetery, larger tombstones lined the pathway. The wealthy had a monopoly even in death.

Morbid inner ramblings that made no sense held my thoughts hostage, making it nearly impossible to think straight.

A burst of cold, dusty air hit me as I entered a neglected crypt. Wooden shutters blocked out some daylight, but not enough.

This place was hauntingly familiar – similar to the mausoleum I’d been trapped in as a boy. A sunray caught myhand and blisters bubbled. I flew into a panic as red welts tracked up my arm, stinging as they spread.

I shoved the stone lid aside and stared at the rotting casket inside. Reconsidering sharing space with a corpse, I glanced at the relentless sunbeams.

Ahellish nightmare.