Bull Running For Girlsl Read Online Free Page B

her brown hair as a nod to tradition. The air smelt of sangria and sweat.
    The bulls thundered down to Ayntamiento Square, down Mercaderes and into a street called Estafeta. Elise could smell the bulls long before she saw them. By stretching her neck and pushing the boys to one side, she could just about see between their bobbing heads. Two of the bulls looked tired as if they had been running for days and wanted to give up, but the other two looked lean and excited, like they had a mean streak that stretched back generations.
    Some young men pointed and shouted, “Toro, Toro, Toro.”
    Elise could see four bulls; one turned on the spot, slipped on the cobbles, regained its footing—and came after her and the boys. The other runners shouted at them to run—to get out of the way. Michael and Frantz pulled at her arms, but somehow she got away from them. One of the animals was the largest bull she had ever seen—a giant of a black bull—and it had thundered around the corner with blood on its horns from the last runner who had come across its path. As the other bulls rushed past Elise, this huge bull stopped some distance away, stamped its feet and bellowed. She felt the blood rush to her face as she prepared to run again. From behind the wooden barrier the crowds offered her their hands, to pull her over and to safety. Elise waved her hand, shook her head and prepared to run. The crowd held their breath.
    Elise ran towards the bull as it bellowed at her again. She sprinted the distance with ease despite the heat and with the elegant grace of a true bull-runner she jumped as high as she could over the horns of the bull. Her hands briefly touched its back as she vaulted off and into the dust. The crowd cheered and applauded. All was noise and laughter—a band struck up. As the bulls disappeared down the street Elise could hear the steady thump of the drum and it echoed the beat of her racing heart. She had never felt as alive as she did in that moment. The coursing blood ran as a river in her body, a river as dark as the Styx.
     
    A few feet in front of Elise lay the body of Franz, covered in blood. She felt no emotion. Perhaps another bull had come along and attacked him whilst he was trying to attract the attention of the bull that charged her. She tried to get to him but the jubilant crowd swept her up as their sudden hero and placed her on the shoulders of two of the other runners. Frantz was forgotten as she felt the rush of excitement once more, giving herself over to the spontaneity and joy of the moment. She felt stronger than ever. Michael and Frantz were nothing to her now: too weak, all too malleable. Too human.
    Elise was ready for anything and wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when the withered woman came into her hostel room that night and asked her to get dressed. The woman then turned and left, expecting Elise to follow.
    Elise did follow, down dark streets to even darker alleys, where young boys lay drunk and sleeping from the earlier celebrations. She saw the shadow of a church before her and was led down some steep, stone steps into The Taurobolium, her way illuminated by torchlight. Once within the underground temple she looked up to the ceiling. She was in a grotto. Shafts of light fell from holes in the wooden canopy, a hundred tiny stars. The walls were lined with stone benches and decorated with paintings and several carved reliefs. One statue was of Mithras killing the sacred bull; he knelt on the back of the animal, pulling its head back in submission. A stone serpent and a dog drank from the open wound.
     
    The women were waiting for her. Two undressed Elise and gave her a soft full-length white gown to wear. She put it on in silence. When a glass of wine was given to her she took it and drank without hesitation. Within a minute she felt the effect, stronger than she had expected but not unpleasant, and she did not surprise herself when she took another willingly.
    “Let us rejoice in the