*Author's Note: Special thanks to both Pamz and Pat for their suggestions
on this story and their beta work.
Chapter 1: The Devil's Lair
Late November 1821 On the outskirts of Mexico City, Mexico
"Have you buried the lieutenant and his lancers, Pedro?" a tall stocky masked man asked as he walked down the stairs leading to an open dining room. "I am tired of having to continuously clean up these loose ends myself. I thought that's what I was paying you men to take care of." He directed his last comment to a group of men of an ill-disputed background who were sitting at the table eating their evening meal.
The men laughed nervously, not because they wanted to, but because it was expected of them. They were too terrified of El Diablo to displease him. No one knew what he looked like beneath the mask or even his real name, for that matter. Many had tried to capture the masked bandit, hoping to put a stop to his dastardly deeds and a chance to remove the mask, but none survived long enough to claim the honor. The lieutenant and his men were a recent addition to those who came close, but were quickly executed, adding to the increasing death toll that seem to envelope this evil man and his empire like a velvet cloak.
His men were completely loyal to him and his second in command, El Serpiente - rumored to be his son, but deadly nevertheless. Those that thought to betray the empire were punished in a horrifying and painful fashion, which always resulted in the individual's death. El Diablo eliminated all who tried to get in his way on his rise to power to become the sole ruler of California. The men may not know much about their leader, but the one thing they did know for certain was that El Diablo was just as unpredictable and dangerous as a rattlesnake about to strike.
Now was one of those times.
Pedro Garcia was an old man, proud and afraid of no man, but two - Diablo and Serpiente. Pedro cursed his weakness, this paralyzing fear that seemed to engulf him in its icy vise-like grip whenever he was summoned by the two men. At this moment, Pedro stood cowering in fright before the ominous masked man and his volatile temper and sadistic nature, causing him to stutter, "Si, Señor Diablo. They ar-are b-b-buried. I-I-I saw t-to it my- myself." Pedro hesitated, wanting to say more, but could not for fear of the consequences.
"Very good, Pedro. As I said, I really do hate having to clean up after you boys." El Diablo paused to light his cigar. "I believe I will have to reward you for your-." He stopped as he noticed the fear and pleading look in Pedro's eyes. "What is it? Well? You can tell me, Pedro." No one saw the evil gleam which was shining brightly in El Diablo's soulless black eyes. "I won't bite."
Pedro was too terrified to voice his protest, but he knew he must. Hundreds of lives, his family included, depended on him to somehow stop Diablo from going through with his plans. "Por favor, Señor Diablo. Must you . . . must we g-go through w-with this? They are m-my people." He was trying so hard to be brave, but his fear of Diablo was even greater. "They will k-keep silent. M-must you-."
"Must I what, Pedro?" Diablo interrupted sarcastically. "Must I kill them? I'm afraid so, old man. They are a threat to this empire and must be removed." He paused for a moment as if he was seriously debating his decision. "Pedro. Pedro. Pedro. What am I going to do with you?" He repeated softly as he walked towards the old man who was looking down at the ground.
"Por favor, Señor, por favor. Show mercy," Pedro pleaded softly in desperation, his eyes glistening with tears.
Diablo put his hand behind his back and the other on Pedro's shoulder as if to provide comfort to the old man. "I did say that I would reward you for your hard work, did I not?"
"Si, Señor, you did." Pedro whispered, a tiny spark of hope ignited inside his heart.
"Well, Pedro, I guess I can find it in myself to grant you your wish," Pedro was so relieved at the prospect of saving his family that he failed to see the knife Diablo pulled out from behind his back. "You want to be with your family and I shall see to it that it happens." The men turned away as the knife slowly came into view. "In death."
Pedro's only response was a short cry as Diablo brought the knife up towards Pedro's throat and slashed it open. Diablo stood there pressing the old man's body to his chest, bathing himself in the warm aftermath as Pedro's blood soaked into his clothes. He cradled Pedro's head and looked into his eyes which were slowly losing life, "You are now free, old man, to join your maker. Soon, your family will be free to join you as well." Pedro's eyes drifted shut as his heart beat for the last time. Diablo gently placed a kiss on Pedro's forehead, "I always honor my word."
Diablo dropped Pedro's lifeless body to the floor, hitting the ground with a loud 'thud' that echoed in the silent dining room. Diablo signaled for one of his lieutenants, "Sanchez, take this body to the caves with the others. And send for someone to clean this mess. You can wrap the body in this rug. The rug is useless now. I can't believe he had to go and soil it." Shaking his head in mock despair, "It was my favorite rug. Oh well, maybe, I can have another one made once we are in California."
"Si, Diablo. I will take care of it. What about the explosives?" Enrique Sanchez asked before turning his head to look away from Diablo and the body.
A wild glazed look in his eyes, Diablo looked one last time at Pedro's body before bringing the knife up to his mouth. "The blood of thy enemy shall make thy self strong." He chanted softly to himself, before licking the blood off the knife.
Sanchez was not sure if Diablo heard him and repeated the question. Sanchez was not sure if he could control his rebellious stomach for much longer. Both his stomach and his conscience seemed to pay the price every time he was 'forced' to witness Diablo's disgusting and inhuman fascination of drinking or tasting his enemy or victims' blood. Diablo claimed that the taste of blood made him feel stronger, almost god-like. The man was psychotic, in Sanchez's opinion. And that was one opinion which was better left unvoiced.
Moments passed as Diablo stood there looking down at Pedro with the crazed look on his face and blood on his lips. Sanchez was about to ask again, when Diablo seemed to become himself once again as his eyes cleared and focused on Sanchez. "Everything is ready. Serpiente is on his way to California to proceed with the second stage of our plans." He paused as if trying to remember what Sanchez had asked earlier, "Ah, yes, the explosives. Go ahead and set them off. I want the workers dead. I will allow no one the opportunity to expose us before we have completed our work. You and your men can catch up with us in a couple of days. I want you to make sure that no one escapes from the caves."
"The servants from here in the hacienda?" Sanchez asked, although he already suspected the answer.
Diablo looked out the window, staring off into the distance as if envisioning his kingdom. "Kill them. Kill them all."
*Author's Note: I love reviews. (Hint, Hint!!).
Chapter 1: The Devil's Lair
Late November 1821 On the outskirts of Mexico City, Mexico
"Have you buried the lieutenant and his lancers, Pedro?" a tall stocky masked man asked as he walked down the stairs leading to an open dining room. "I am tired of having to continuously clean up these loose ends myself. I thought that's what I was paying you men to take care of." He directed his last comment to a group of men of an ill-disputed background who were sitting at the table eating their evening meal.
The men laughed nervously, not because they wanted to, but because it was expected of them. They were too terrified of El Diablo to displease him. No one knew what he looked like beneath the mask or even his real name, for that matter. Many had tried to capture the masked bandit, hoping to put a stop to his dastardly deeds and a chance to remove the mask, but none survived long enough to claim the honor. The lieutenant and his men were a recent addition to those who came close, but were quickly executed, adding to the increasing death toll that seem to envelope this evil man and his empire like a velvet cloak.
His men were completely loyal to him and his second in command, El Serpiente - rumored to be his son, but deadly nevertheless. Those that thought to betray the empire were punished in a horrifying and painful fashion, which always resulted in the individual's death. El Diablo eliminated all who tried to get in his way on his rise to power to become the sole ruler of California. The men may not know much about their leader, but the one thing they did know for certain was that El Diablo was just as unpredictable and dangerous as a rattlesnake about to strike.
Now was one of those times.
Pedro Garcia was an old man, proud and afraid of no man, but two - Diablo and Serpiente. Pedro cursed his weakness, this paralyzing fear that seemed to engulf him in its icy vise-like grip whenever he was summoned by the two men. At this moment, Pedro stood cowering in fright before the ominous masked man and his volatile temper and sadistic nature, causing him to stutter, "Si, Señor Diablo. They ar-are b-b-buried. I-I-I saw t-to it my- myself." Pedro hesitated, wanting to say more, but could not for fear of the consequences.
"Very good, Pedro. As I said, I really do hate having to clean up after you boys." El Diablo paused to light his cigar. "I believe I will have to reward you for your-." He stopped as he noticed the fear and pleading look in Pedro's eyes. "What is it? Well? You can tell me, Pedro." No one saw the evil gleam which was shining brightly in El Diablo's soulless black eyes. "I won't bite."
Pedro was too terrified to voice his protest, but he knew he must. Hundreds of lives, his family included, depended on him to somehow stop Diablo from going through with his plans. "Por favor, Señor Diablo. Must you . . . must we g-go through w-with this? They are m-my people." He was trying so hard to be brave, but his fear of Diablo was even greater. "They will k-keep silent. M-must you-."
"Must I what, Pedro?" Diablo interrupted sarcastically. "Must I kill them? I'm afraid so, old man. They are a threat to this empire and must be removed." He paused for a moment as if he was seriously debating his decision. "Pedro. Pedro. Pedro. What am I going to do with you?" He repeated softly as he walked towards the old man who was looking down at the ground.
"Por favor, Señor, por favor. Show mercy," Pedro pleaded softly in desperation, his eyes glistening with tears.
Diablo put his hand behind his back and the other on Pedro's shoulder as if to provide comfort to the old man. "I did say that I would reward you for your hard work, did I not?"
"Si, Señor, you did." Pedro whispered, a tiny spark of hope ignited inside his heart.
"Well, Pedro, I guess I can find it in myself to grant you your wish," Pedro was so relieved at the prospect of saving his family that he failed to see the knife Diablo pulled out from behind his back. "You want to be with your family and I shall see to it that it happens." The men turned away as the knife slowly came into view. "In death."
Pedro's only response was a short cry as Diablo brought the knife up towards Pedro's throat and slashed it open. Diablo stood there pressing the old man's body to his chest, bathing himself in the warm aftermath as Pedro's blood soaked into his clothes. He cradled Pedro's head and looked into his eyes which were slowly losing life, "You are now free, old man, to join your maker. Soon, your family will be free to join you as well." Pedro's eyes drifted shut as his heart beat for the last time. Diablo gently placed a kiss on Pedro's forehead, "I always honor my word."
Diablo dropped Pedro's lifeless body to the floor, hitting the ground with a loud 'thud' that echoed in the silent dining room. Diablo signaled for one of his lieutenants, "Sanchez, take this body to the caves with the others. And send for someone to clean this mess. You can wrap the body in this rug. The rug is useless now. I can't believe he had to go and soil it." Shaking his head in mock despair, "It was my favorite rug. Oh well, maybe, I can have another one made once we are in California."
"Si, Diablo. I will take care of it. What about the explosives?" Enrique Sanchez asked before turning his head to look away from Diablo and the body.
A wild glazed look in his eyes, Diablo looked one last time at Pedro's body before bringing the knife up to his mouth. "The blood of thy enemy shall make thy self strong." He chanted softly to himself, before licking the blood off the knife.
Sanchez was not sure if Diablo heard him and repeated the question. Sanchez was not sure if he could control his rebellious stomach for much longer. Both his stomach and his conscience seemed to pay the price every time he was 'forced' to witness Diablo's disgusting and inhuman fascination of drinking or tasting his enemy or victims' blood. Diablo claimed that the taste of blood made him feel stronger, almost god-like. The man was psychotic, in Sanchez's opinion. And that was one opinion which was better left unvoiced.
Moments passed as Diablo stood there looking down at Pedro with the crazed look on his face and blood on his lips. Sanchez was about to ask again, when Diablo seemed to become himself once again as his eyes cleared and focused on Sanchez. "Everything is ready. Serpiente is on his way to California to proceed with the second stage of our plans." He paused as if trying to remember what Sanchez had asked earlier, "Ah, yes, the explosives. Go ahead and set them off. I want the workers dead. I will allow no one the opportunity to expose us before we have completed our work. You and your men can catch up with us in a couple of days. I want you to make sure that no one escapes from the caves."
"The servants from here in the hacienda?" Sanchez asked, although he already suspected the answer.
Diablo looked out the window, staring off into the distance as if envisioning his kingdom. "Kill them. Kill them all."
*Author's Note: I love reviews. (Hint, Hint!!).