She was waiting for him when he returned to the tavern. Lightening quick reflexes stopped her hand as it swung towards his face. "You don't want to do that," he warned.
Yanking her wrist away from his hold, Victoria turned away from him in an effort to hide her hurt. She had never felt so confused in her life. Her heart told her that she loved this man, that he had a good heart and spirit, but her mind told her that he was evil. His dislike for Don Alejandro, the kind man who had become like a second father, was obvious to her, if to no one else.
Hugging herself tightly, she stopped herself from shaking. Spinning around to face her tormentor, she cried. "I don't understand you!"
Diego sat down with a nonchalance she knew was false, just as she believed his cold face earlier had been an act. His masks, while invisible, were better at hiding the man beneath them than Zorro's was. She sank down in front of him; despair showing in the way she held her body and in her voice. "Part of me--A part of me says that you are a good man, that you would not harm the Church for those taxes. Then, another part of me yells out inside that I am being dim-witted. Everyone has heard of the great Diego Resendo, friend to the King, and he is not known for being polite."
Diego's eyes were dull. "I guess you are going to have to decide whether you trust me or not."
Victoria could no longer hold back the tears. "I don't know! I don't know if I should trust you."
Standing suddenly, he walked to stand in front of her. He gently drew her up into his arms, and Victoria did not have the strength to fight him. "I don't know if you should trust me, either," he admitted.
Gently cupping her cheeks in his hands, he lifted her face to look at him. He leaned forward and softly kissed her closed eyelids, as if to take away the tears. Victoria opened her eyes to look at him, and realized the horrible truth. She loved this man.
His eyes caressed her face. When his eyes met hers, the feeling flowed through her that he could read her soul. His thumbs delicately wiped away the traces of her tears. "I don't want to love you, either," he whispered. Before Victoria had time to react, or even think about what he meant, Diego turned away from her and walked up the steps without even one backward glance.
***
The first thing he noticed was the absence of blood. Diego felt an irrational anger at the de la Vega servant that had mopped up the blood from the foyer. He felt like everyone was trying to erase Julian, but he knew it was not true. His emotions were out of control. The always calm, cool, collected Diego was an emotional basket case after his earlier confrontation with Victoria.
Instead of heading to the bedroom that contained his trunk and clothes, he turned to walk into the library. It was his favorite room in the hacienda. Looking at the books laying in the recessed bookcases standing next to the fireplace, it was obvious what drew him here. Since he had been taught to read, he had found comfort in books. They whispered secrets of how the world worked, and they told him stories of courageous heroes and loving families.
It was not only the books that made him love this room. The memories of the previous afternoon were also precious. Had it only been twenty-four hours since he had sat in this room with Julian and Felipe? It seemed more like a lifetime ago to him.
Before coming to Los Angeles, he would have told anyone that he had lost all of his innocence years ago, but he had had more ripped away from him yesterday. He had never lost anyone close to him to death before Julian.
He noticed the small painting of his mother on the mantel. Diego walked slowly over and reverently lifted it up to get a closer look at it. He had heard the stories, from his father's friends in Madrid, about this woman. Most of them had spoken in hushed tones about her beauty and her fire. Diego was convinced that over half of Don Alejandro's friends had been in love with her themselves.
A small click echoed in the silence of the room. Diego twitched in surprise, but he was sure that the stunned look on Felipe's face was even greater than his own. The boy jumped back and the door in the fireplace closed. Diego stood there, with his jaw slack, for a few seconds. Bending down, he reached for and pushed on the door. It did not budge.
Pulling back, he looked around the mantel. He had seen some secret rooms whose entrances were books on the shelf, but he doubted this was the case. The books he had seen on the bookcase where published within the last thirty years, and he suspected that the passageway had been built with the house. He scanned the shelves anyway, looking for one book that looked less worn than the others. All of them, however, looked well read.
His eyes scanned around the fireplace as he set his mother's picture back down. If his grandfather thought like he did, he would have put the latch somewhere convenient, somewhere close at hand. It would be somewhere on the mantel where a person could just tap it and walk on into the room behind the door. He would have put it . . ..
Diego grinned as he felt the wood underneath his hands give slightly. The door swung open, and he rushed through it. He felt like a kid making a new discovery about the world. His Uncle Felipe had always found his love of secret hiding places amusing and exasperating.
He turned the corner and saw the young servant, Felipe. "Stop!" was out of his mouth before he thought. The boy stopped as if he had heard. It was impossible for him to have seen Diego, because his back was to him at the moment.
Diego's eyes stayed on the trembling figure before him. "You heard me," he said as he walked towards the young servant. Felipe turned, trembling and obviously unsure what to say. "You can hear."
It was then that Diego noticed the rest of the room. He admitted that he found some of the room distasteful--such as the drawings of señoritas in various states of dress that his brother had attached to the wall--but he thought it had potential. The workbench with various experiments on it wetted Diego's scientific curiosity and envy; he wished he had the space and the time to work on some of the many scientific papers he wanted to write.
It was his eyes rested on the black outfit hanging on a coat tree that he realized why Felipe seemed to be so frightened by his presence. He was in Zorro's lair and the boy knew it. Without even trying, he had tracked down his enemy. He would go upstairs to get his spare pistol in his trunk and wait for the--.
He sat down heavily on the only chair in the cave. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words were heard. Instead, a strange, half-strangled gasp emerged. Diego's eyes met the nervous brown eyes staring at him, and tried once again to speak. "G-G-Gilberto is Zorro?"
Felipe looked down, shifting back and forth from foot to foot. Diego leaned back in the chair, his mind whirling from the secret he had just learned. "My brother killed Julian," he gasped, talking to himself. He struggled to understand the truth.
He looked up after Felipe grabbed his arm. His mute friend was violently shaking his head. "Zorro--Gilberto killed Julian," Diego repeated.
Felipe motioned with his hands, pointing at his own shoulder. "The alcalde?" The boy nodded his head, and Diego shook his. "That's makes no sense. DeSoto might have reason enough to want to kill me, but Julian--"
Watching, he realized what Felipe was struggling to show him in his signs. "Zorro and Julian were fighting. The alcalde tried to shoot Zorro, but Julian--Julian got in the way."
His conscious, using Ynez Resendo's voice, told him he should still seek revenge, but then his mother wanted to strike back at everyone from the King to the lady across the street who happened to look better than her. He had spent his life struggling against her loco teachings, and he was not about to start following them now. It had been an error, and DeSoto would pay for it--just not with his life. Zorro had been the one person he believed he could destroy without a problem. He was an outlaw, a murderer, and the bounty would go a long way in helping the people of Los Angeles by paying their outrageous tax bill.
Laughing, he stood and began walking about the cave. "Ever since I came here, Felipe, I've felt like I was in a farce. My entire life has been--My entire life makes no sense to me right now. I don't know who is right and who is wrong." He grabbed the mask. He held it up, giggling. "Gilberto de la Vega, my br--Gilberto is Zorro!"
He stopped laughing, staring down at the mask lying in his hands. "Felipe, does fa--Don Alejandro know? Really? I'm surprised--No, I'm not. 'Good and evil'," he murmured. Shaking his head, he turned to toss the mask back to where it belonged.
He stopped, rubbing his fingers over the silk. Looking in the nearby mirror, he pulled the cloth over his head. "I am Zorro!" he said with a grin. He noticed Felipe smiling behind him. "Ah, you've pretended before, too?" A quick nod was his only answer.
Beginning to take off the mask, Diego stopped to think. He thought of all the problems currently plaguing him, and a possible answer popped into his mind. Some of the last words Julian spoke echoed in his mind. "You would make a fine Zorro!"
The de la Vega money was still froze at the bank due to his order, since he had forgotten to take care of it earlier today. He could test both his father and his brother while taking care of the taxes. He had seen how much his family had in this bank alone, and knew that they could easily pay the entire tax bill themselves. His father argued earlier for the sanctity of the Church, and now Diego would see if his father was the kind of man who would stand behind his words, even at great personal cost. He thought he knew, but if Don Alejandro passed this final test, Diego would leave Los Angeles forever.
"Felipe, saddle Toronado. I'm going for a ride!" As he dressed, he expected his new friend to make some kind of protest. He waited until Diego was almost completely dressed, and then walked over to where the great stallion was, to prepare him. Diego was unsure if it was because Felipe trusted him, or because he had little respect for Don Gilberto, but Diego hoped it was the former. His brother had turned out to be a great disappointment to him enough as it was.
***
Ah, good ole Corporal Figueroa, Diego thought from his perch up on the rooftop. He could see what Zorro found so attractive about this view. It gave him places to protect himself from flying bullets, an excellent chance to survey the area, and a truly wonderful overview of the entire area. Los Angeles had to be located in one of the most beautiful terrains of the world.
Diego leaned forward to hear what his lancer was saying to the crowd. "I'm sorry, but you all will have to talk to the Emissary!"
"I would like to use my money to pay the tax balance, but the bank tells me that your Emissary has frozen my accounts," he heard his father snap. Diego's heart lightened; the man was volunteering his own money. Don Alejandro was a good, kind, and honorable man who had made a horrible mistake in the past, but Diego would not punish him or this pueblo for it.
"They are free now, Don Alejandro," he called. Everyone turned and gasped in surprise as he held up the heavy bag of money. "I personally released the de la Vega funds from the bank. Since they are now mine, let me personally pay the taxes." Listening to the crowd's cheers, he tossed down the bag. It landed with a satisfying 'thump' at Figueroa's feet. Diego noticed that even the good padre was struggling to hide his smile. The only person who did not look pleased was his brother; Gilberto's eyes flashed in anger.
Corporal Figueroa looked up at him and stuttered, "B-B-But you can't pay the tax with stolen money!"
"Why not?" asked "Zorro" and Padre Benitez at the same time, and the two of them shared a smile.
"I think its money well spent," his father said and the crowd cheered him. Diego stood there for a moment, enjoying the moment. He had made the people of Los Angeles happy and that filled him with joy.
"The E-Emissary will have your head, Zorro!" Figueroa warned. I must give that boy a commendation when we return to Madrid, Diego thought as he hid his smile.
Somehow he also managed to contain the laughter bubbling up in him. "He best be careful. If he wants my head, he'll get the rest of me." Silently laughing, he turned to whistle for Toronado. He drew in another breath to whistle, hoping that the horse would respond, but he stopped when he noticed that the black stallion was patiently waiting for him. Smiling, he waved and jumped off the building.
Riding away on Toronado, Diego felt free. For the first time in his life, he was free. Leaning forward, he told the horse, "If I had known putting on a mask would be so exhilarating, I would have done it years ago!" Laughing hard, he rode towards home.