Chapter 7

Spellbound

His handwriting was angular, tilted to the right, particularly the upper parts of the t's and b's, and the lower sticks of the p's and y's. The capital L, used to spell her name, had a little curve on the top and then swung sideways in pointy waves. Each one of the notes was in ink, so he must have necessarily written them at home, then brought them here to the cabin.

So he was thinking about her… even if just out of gratitude.

Lucía picked the one from August 29th and read it for what was probably the forty seventh time. Right on the spot where she was lying, with the sheets of paper spread around as if displayed to admire (or in fact displayed to admire), he'd been lying as well. She congratulated herself for not saying anything too embarrassing that he could have been able to remember, then read it once more: …your voice. I have been following it for a while now. Will I get to hear it again?

Not only did her abuela heal the body; she was also known for healing the soul or more specifically, for healing broken hearts. A lot of costumers passed by this house, even a few elegant people, willing to pay the fee that would grant them the magic cure for love, the remedy that would allow them to rip that someone off their chests and forget about them for good.

Lucía had liked this one boy once, but nothing too serious, not enough to take a dip in the mixture of honey, basil and mud from the borders of the creek her grandma prescribed for the toughest of cases.

She might need it this time.

The thought of it made her giggle and go for another one of the notes, this time the one from August 23rd: …I visited the door of your home... She liked that little hint of humor sprinkled at some points. His words felt sincere too, like he really meant it, with no disguises or cloaks. Guess he could do that, considering what she knew. Of course he was too smart to think she could rat him out: if that would have ever been her intention, she wouldn't have given him a bath with her own two hands to begin with.

What was her intention? Say it again: just to help someone. One more time: would have done it for anyone (not sure about the bathing part).

It all swirled inside her head a little, it all felt way too good. It was best not to think too much about the future, it being the morning light that would appear at any moment. She let the paper rest on her chest and stretched out her arms.

Where was that basil?

(…)

Lucía glanced over her shoulder one more time: two men made their way down the street in their horses, there was also the same old lady carrying a big basket she'd crossed just seconds ago.

An elegant coach that turned around the following corner, heading her way, almost made her jump in her spot. But it wasn't him, so she gathered her courage and kept on, guided by the noise of what seemed to be a crowd in the main square of the town.

"…of his Majesty the King of Spain, from now on the tax will be of eighteen per cent…" Whatever the Capitan said after that got lost in the massive booing that erupted amongst the audience.

It looked like she'd arrived when things were reaching their boiling point, for the angry calls turned into shoving and then into objects of diverse kind flying the lancers' way, who did their best to protect the Comandante as he pinned the poster with the new decree where everyone could see it.

The soldiers struggled to repel the multitude and right when things seemed to be about to get out of any sort of control, someone's voice rose above the tumult:

"El Zorro!"

Lucía's heart dropped to the ground and bounced several times like a marble.

It was him, obvious as it is to say it, but it was, it was him and she had to acknowledge it like that, to make sure the madness she was witnessing was real: Zorro, don Diego, him!, leaping from a balcony and crashing the Comandante's party, snatching the poster from the wall, to the public's cheering and hoorays. The clatter of the foils began and Lucía, seeing it all from a corner, marveled at the sight of him doing what he did and also wondering if his arm still hurt. It most likely did, even if a little; nevertheless, he was right there, wielding that blade as if nothing.

What happened afterwards would be added to the list of El Zorro's greatest feats, grand escapades subsection, one of those that people would talk about for months to come.

He somehow climbed a wall, grabbed a rope and swung himself above the rooting crowd. At the same time, Lucía's breath abandoned her entirely: he was heading in heeer direction, landing right there and was ready to go his way when, behind the mask, his eyes bumped into her wide open ones.

Green Eyes.

This part wouldn't be included in the book of heroic deeds, because no one else knew, no one realized, only the two of them shared this instant of recognition, face to face and eye to eye, not able to say anything.

But a smile would do.

The lancers wouldn't stop and wait for them to catch up on old times, though, so, to the top of the wall, over the roofs, few bullets that failed to reach him and he was gone.

Her heart had sneaked its way back into her chest at some point. It was pounding so hard, guess it wanted to break out again.

(…)

Chamomile is disgusting, but it's supposed to help you calm down. She took the first sip that tasted like rancid spinach soup and placed the cup back on the table. A couple of deep breaths and then she decided not to keep attempting to fool herself, so she stood up and continued pacing around the house, changing that one bowl from this cabinet to the other for no particular reason, maybe that cushion would look better over there, and why not rearrange roots and leaves shelf?

It was unreal to think she knew who the man behind the mask was. That he'd looked at her that way, with that spark that suddenly lit up in his stare when meeting hers.

They were each other's secret, implicitly. And she loved that secret… she liked it. She loved it. She-

She didn't move.

She'd been expecting this: a knock on the door. Maybe she did know him after all, or maybe it was just a logical deduction. The former sounded better.

And the air was immobile as well.

Another knock, then she heard it:

"Lucía?"

The visitor was back and she was home this time.

(…)

Note: I can say this fic has taken a life of its own. It's turned out way longer than I anticipated and I have added a bunch of things along the way. As usual, thanks for reading!