Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything to do with Zorro, and "One Special Night" was written by Gary Steven Rieck, so anything that you recognize from that episode is his.
Author's Notes: I had wanted to get a supernatural story ready for last Halloween; however, between my continuing bouts of writer's block and the unexpected upheaval of another cross-country move in my personal life, I couldn't get it done then, and the general chaos didn't make writing any easier. But I really wanted to get this done, and so have been working at it in fits and starts, and while I'm not entirely happy with the result (I actually haven't been too happy with my last few works) or the fact that once again I missed a Halloween deadline, I am still trying to get to the point where I'm writing regularly again.
So here's my second take on what is probably the most fanficced episode of the series, though I hope this comes off as something different. At least, I haven't read a supernatural twist on "One Special Night" before. This is a short 5 chapter story, and will be uploaded over the next two weeks (Tuesday, Thursday, then Monday, Wednesday, Friday).
And thanks as always to Ghetto Outlaw for his beta-work.
The chapter titles come from Edgar Allan Poe's "Dreamland" (1844).
One Haunted Night
Chapter 1
By a route obscure and lonely
"I still can't believe the Special Emissary agreed with you about the taxes," Victoria said, breaking apart the small roll in front of her. "He started out so..." She broke off trying to find the right words.
She and Diego were sitting at a small table next to the window of Santa Paula's tavern, enjoying a light meal before returning home. The meeting with Don Basilio had gone better than she had hoped, considering the man's apparent determination to argue for the sake of arguing. But Diego met him point for point, never losing his temper, never backing down, but in a way that was more diplomatic than aggressive. Victoria had been prepared to argue for the pueblo, but Diego had managed to shock her into silence by how well he handled the whole meeting.
"It was just a matter of the right precedents," Diego said. "You've heard my father's arguments enough," he paused thoughtfully before adding almost under his breath, "I know I have."
Yes, she had, but Diego had done far more than just parrot his father's ideas. Don Alejandro was a very direct man, blunt and to the point. What Diego had done was something else entirely.
Victoria tilted her head. "Yes, but the way you put it..."
"Was just the simplest way to get the point across," Diego interrupted, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, before turning his head to look out of the window. "Once you're done, we should start for home."
Victoria followed his gaze to see clouds gathering in the sky. "I'm not sure about the weather. Why don't we stay the night and return in the morning?"
Diego leaned closer to the window. "If we leave now, we should be back before it gets troublesome." He looked down at the table. "I know my father will want to hear about our success as soon as possible." He smiled slightly. "It might even help keep him from getting out of bed before he should."
"I'm not sure anything could stop that," Victoria said. She put the last piece of the roll in her mouth.
Diego was bringing out some coins from his pocket, as the waitress, Teresa, bustled up to them. "Oh, you're not planning on leaving, are you?" she said. "Tonight of all nights. I wouldn't want to be out among the phantoms. There's protection from them here." She tilted her head at the bunches of herbs hung over the doors and windows. "And," she added with a sly smile at Victoria, "we've got two rooms next to each other; in case of any trouble in the night, you'd have your gentleman at hand." Then she winked at her.
Victoria frowned. "He's not…. we're not…"
The young woman raised an eyebrow as she gave them both a once over. "If you say so," she said with a minuscule shrug before leaning in and whispering, "seems like a waste to me." She scooped up the coins and headed back to the kitchen.
Victoria could feel her cheeks flushing as she looked back out the window to avoid looking directly at Diego, who was slumping slightly in his seat, almost as if he were trying to make himself invisible. Really impossible for such a tall man.
With a slight sigh, Victoria looked down at her empty plate. After that advice, no matter if well intentioned— and Victoria was hardly sure of that— she really couldn't insist on staying, could she? And Diego should be pleased, as it meant he'd be getting his way. She glanced suspiciously towards the kitchen. It was almost as if Diego and Teresa had conspired to get her to agree to leave but no, that was ridiculous and impossible (literally impossible as they had not been apart since entering the tavern). It was just an annoying touch of fate really. Victoria huffed slightly and slid off the bench, waiting for Diego to say something.
However, all he said as he pushed up from the table was "Ready? Then let's go." He picked up their bags.
"Maybe we'll avoid the rain," Victoria said, unenthusiastically.
As they started towards the door, the tavern owner, Señor Paiva, hurried toward them. "You're leaving?" he exclaimed incredulously. "Teresa surely told you we have rooms, so you don't have to go out on such a night as this is going to be."
"That's why we're leaving now," Diego said, "to avoid any bad weather."
"It is not the weather, I'm speaking of," Señor Paiva said. "Don't you know what day this is?"
"We're not superstitious, Señor," Diego said, "and the sooner we leave the sooner we'll be safely home."
"But, surely, Señorita..." the man turned toward Victoria with a pleading tone.
"I'm sure we'll be fine," Victoria said. "And if we're going, we need to leave now."
"If you must," Señor Paiva said, shaking his head, before turning and grabbing a couple of bunches of dried herbs tied together from a basket on the end of the bar, "take this with you. It might help you."
"Gracias," Victoria said as she took hers and put it in the pocket of her riding jacket. She noticed it had lavender, garlic flowers, thyme, and sage. More for cooking than protection she thought, though she vaguely remembered Abuelita telling her about the more mystical uses of herbs, but she'd been so young and the more pragmatic uses had pushed it out of her head. But what she did remember was garlic and sage (if you burnt it) kept evil spirits away but lavender and thyme actually were supposed to let you see and speak with spirits which she thought was rather counterproductive if you were trying to keep away from them. But then she could be wrong about that. She'd ask Diego but considering his greater interest in science, he'd probably know even less than she did.
Something that seemed likely as Diego barely looked at his before tucking it into his sash and heading back towards the door. He opened it for Victoria and followed her through. He was obviously not in a chatty mood, and she wasn't in the mood to go over any of the last bits of conversation, so they started riding back they way they'd come in silence.
Victoria watched Diego as they rode feeling as if she were seeing a stranger— no, that wasn't quite right— the Diego she had seen this day was not unfamiliar, more nearly forgotten, more like the one she remembered from before he went to Spain. The young man willing to slay dragons as well as write poetry. She didn't think about those days much; there was so much she preferred not to dwell on. No point really. The present was what was important.
And the present Diego was a puzzle. She had expected that she would have to be the one to argue with the emissary, that he wouldn't have the courage or the words to make their case, but she couldn't have been more wrong. In fact, her quick temper had been more of a problem than any potential lack of courage from her friend, and it was Diego's words (how could she forget that he was good with them when he needed to be?) that had won the day. For once they hadn't needed Zorro's sword to make the point with a stubborn government official.
Victoria looked up at the darkening sky. The clouds from earlier had rolled in above them, bringing with them cold and the promise of a storm. They should have stayed at the tavern in Santa Paula, as the waitress had urged, though her reasons had been more about the promise of something more frightening than a storm. Victoria didn't believe in ghosts or hauntings, but she preferred to stay warm and dry when possible.
"We're riding into a storm," Victoria called out. "See. I told you we should have taken rooms for the night in Santa Paula." The wind was getting sharp.
"But we didn't," Diego bit out. Pointing ahead, he added, "There's an old abandoned windmill about a mile up that way. I think we can make it there before the storm hits."
"Are you sure you can find it in the dark?" Victoria asked, bending her head against the wind.
"Pretty sure," Diego said, confidently.
Victoria could only hope he was right. He seemed to have lost all sense of direction since his return from Spain. Another reason why they should have stayed the night and traveled in the light of day. It's not as if Don Alejandro had to hear that very night of their success. The morning would do just as well. Or... Victoria stared at Diego's back, or was it that he wanted to prove that he wasn't afraid of ghost stories either? Or was it the waitress's insinuations that he and Victoria were romantically involved? No, that couldn't be it; he'd been insistent before that. She sniffed as she pulled her jacket closer together with one hand. Apparently just for once, Diego had to be more stubborn than her.
She followed Diego behind a hill and had to take tight hold of the reins, as her horse jerked around skittishly as they entered a thick fog that came from nowhere.
"Now, now, Dulcinea," she said, as she tried to calm the animal. "Diego! What is going on?" she called.
Diego seemed to be struggling with Esperanza as well. "I don't know. It's not the right weather for fog. This shouldn't be here."
"Well, it is," Victoria snapped. The fog wrapped icy tentacles around her. "What do we do? Go forward or back?"
Come to me.
Victoria shivered. Diego was almost a shadowy outline as he pointed ahead.
"Best go on," he said. "We can't be far from the windmill, and it's the only shelter I know of near here."
Victoria wondered how he would know, but she had no better idea and followed behind him, shivering more as a few fat drops of rain hit her. Looking up, she could see flashes of lightning and a few seconds later heard the rumble of thunder. They needed to get to shelter soon.
Something loomed up ahead of them. "That doesn't look like a windmill!" Victoria called out. In fact, she could just make out looming walls and an open gate.
Drops of cold rain started to fall faster.
Inside. Come inside.
"Can we go there?" Victoria asked, her voice coming out higher than usual.
She rode her horse up beside Diego's as he hesitated in front of the gates; beyond them she could just make out a building.
"I don't know how they'll feel about strangers showing up on their doorstep in the rain and fog," he said, "but it probably won't hurt to try." Thunder rumbled, shaking everything around them. "And it would appear we have no viable options."
They headed through the open gate into a dark courtyard. Flashes of lightning in the distance illuminated the area enough so that Victoria could make out the shape of a small stable to one side of a two story hacienda. They reached its shelter just as the rain began to fall in earnest.
Everything was quiet around them. The stable was empty and had an air of long neglect, and Victoria could feel a cold chill along her spine that had nothing to do with the weather.
"What is this place?" Victoria asked. "It looks abandoned." And familiar as if she should know this place, though she was sure she had never come across it on any trip to Santa Paula.
"Yes, it does," Diego replied. He looked at her, a strange expression on his face, before he turned to look at the house.
There was something of a covered walkway from the stable to the front door. Water was dripping through the top but they probably wouldn't get too wet if they hurried. And if the door wasn't locked.
"Wait here," Diego said, before pulling the collar of his jacket up and dashing for the door.
No. Go inside.
Victoria pulled her own jacket close and hurried after Diego. Water was dripping down the back of her neck when she reached him.
The door opened as he knocked on it. Well, that's convenient, Victoria thought, though suddenly she was wondering about the wisdom of coming here. Diego pushed the door open and stepped inside, with Victoria following him.
"Hello!" he called. "Anyone home?"
Get out.
No, you want to be here.
As Diego stopped, Victoria almost ran into him putting up a hand on his back and shook her head to try to clear it of the contradictory thoughts inside. He turned to look at her a moment before moving forward again.
The house was dark, only lit by flashes of lightning from outside. Victoria saw a fat candlestick sitting on a table near the door. Diego reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small box. Taking out a match, he struck it against the side of the box, and then lit the candle.
"I'm sure the owners won't mind us borrowing a little light," he said quietly.
Yes, stay. Warm yourselves.
No.
"I'm not sure I want the chance to ask," she said as she looked around nervously. The chill inside seemed almost worse than the one outside.
Yes, it's cold. Eternal cold. Go now.
There was a sudden gust and behind them, the door slammed shut, causing the candle flame to flicker wildly, though it did not go out. Victoria jumped closer to Diego, grabbing his arm.
Too late.
Yes, you're done. This is my time.
"No, that might not be for the best," Diego said, with a forced laugh.
Victoria suddenly let go of his arm, stepping back, embarrassed. "It was just the wind," she said, with a slight tremor in her voice. She wasn't sure if she was simply stating a fact or trying to convince herself. She turned and grabbed the handle of the door; it wouldn't budge. "The door's stuck."
Diego reached around her to grab the knob and twisted it as hard as he could while pulling back. Victoria stepped away, troubled that the door still wouldn't open. This wasn't right. But Victoria refused to believe it was for any unearthly reason.
"You're right," he said, looking puzzled. "It is. But if we have to we can always break one of the windows to get back out."
"Yes, of course," Victoria said, rubbing her hands against her skirt, hoping that it would be that simple. She looked around at the heavy layer of dust on the table where the candlestick stood. The rest of the room was in shadows, but she imagined it probably was as thick on the other pieces of furniture.
"Hello!" Diego called again, before falling silent, apparently listening for something.
There were no sounds outside of the storm.
"This place does seem abandoned," he said.
"Or they've really been neglecting the cleaning and don't want to be seen," Victoria said, running her finger across the top of the table. There was a heavy roll of thunder that shook the glass of a nearby window. She jumped again and hated herself for it. "Maybe we should try to get back to the horses. There's something not right here." A neglected hacienda filled with furniture not even covered for protection.
Diego crossed to a window and looked out at the rain, which was now pouring down the glass. Victoria noticed a pattern of iron bars outside the glass. Bars on the windows? Why were there bars? Victoria shivered again.
To keep you safe here inside.
"We should wait until the rain lets up, at least," Diego said, as he turned back towards her. "I think it's gotten even colder out there, and the rain seems to be blowing in the direction of the stable. We wouldn't get too much shelter there. "
And not to mention the fact that we're probably trapped in here, and you're trying not to frighten me, Victoria thought. You had to have seen those bars.
He doesn't trust you.
Victoria froze for a moment, another more powerful shiver rushing through her. In a moment Diego was back by her side, settling his jacket over her shoulders almost before she could think.
"You're chilled," he said, rubbing her arms, as she looked up at him.
Again there was that sudden odd wave of familiarity and unfamiliarity that had been troubling her for much of the day. A look in his eyes that warmed her, a look that was familiar, comforting, almost hypnotic. She moved closer as she started to feel lost in those eyes. Before she realized it, her lips were dangerously close to Diego's.
You don't need to see.
Too close, Victoria thought, jerking back. "Thank you, Diego," she said, "but what about you?"
Diego let his arms fall awkwardly to his side. "I'm fine, and we'll both be warmer once we can get a fire going." He looked towards a nearby fireplace.
Victoria picked up the candle and approached it. "There's dry wood here," she said, before leaning in to look up at the chimney. "The flue seems fine, but we should be careful when we light a fire." She stood back and placed the candle on the mantelpiece before putting her arms through the sleeves of Diego's jacket and pulling it close. "I can't believe no one is here. Who would abandon a house like this? They seem to have left everything here just as it was. Not even dust cloths to protect it."
"I wish I knew," Diego said. "If you start the fire, I'll take a look around, just to be sure." He picked up another candle and lit it from the one he was holding. "There is something mysterious about the place."
Nothing you need worry about.
There was a heavy clap of thunder outside.
Victoria reached out a hand to touch Diego's sleeve. "Perhaps we should look together," she said. "It would go faster." She really didn't want either of them to be alone, not with the strange thoughts haunting her. With the cold she found herself leaning closer to him.
"It shouldn't take me too long," Diego said, "and it would be better if we had a fire to warm ourselves up."
Staring up at Diego's face shadowed in the flickering candlelight, Victoria was puzzled by the way the shadows almost make him look like a different person. But then she glanced at the fireplace, it would be good to get warm and give Diego back his jacket. And perhaps warmth would chase away more than the cold.
"All right," she said, "but be careful."
She saw him smile, but it wasn't convincing. "I always am," he said, before turning away to head to the nearest room.
Careful? Of course, he's always careful, Victoria thought, shoving her sleeves up as she bent down to put wood in the fireplace.
Too careful. Not like your precious hero. Not what you want.
Victoria froze for a moment as those words whispered in her thoughts. Why would she think that now? Zorro was Zorro and Diego was Diego; there was no point in comparing.
Yes, you should.
She shook herself and hurried to light the fire, which was slow to respond. She breathed a sigh of relief once the wood began to burn steadily and held her hands out to the flames, relieved by the warmth.
At least this is real, she thought, whatever else is not. There was something hovering at the edge of her thoughts that seemed to slip away whenever she tried to focus on it. She looked in the direction Diego had gone; the shadows seemed thicker around the edges of the room. She shook her head as she thought, No one else is here. Diego would do better getting warm by the fire. Really, what would he do if he found something anyway?
Standing up, she lost her balance and threw her arm out against the side of the fireplace to catch herself. She could feel something shift slightly beneath her hand. She looked closer at the carvings that decorated the column, animals mixed with trees and flowers. Moving her hand, she saw a fox, his head tilted downward. She ran her fingers over the carving; something was loose. She pushed at the head; it twisted up. There was a soft click, and a panel next to the fireplace opened inward.
She looked into the darkness beyond the panel and felt creeping tendrils of cold reaching out from it. Her hand reached for the carving again but hovered above it. She had no intention of exploring that dark space, but Diego would be curious. She turned her head to call out to him, when behind her she heard a low crying moan as of someone in pain.
Picking up the candle, she stepped closer to the panel, listening again. Another moan, low, pained. She couldn't tell if it was man or woman.
"Diego!" She meant to yell but somehow it came out barely above a whisper.
The moan rose again, almost a wail. Victoria couldn't stand still when someone was suffering. She called out for Diego again as she stepped through the panel, candle in hand.
She was at the top of a spiraling stone staircase that was shrouded in darkness and made it impossible for her to know how far down it went. She hesitated until she heard the a sobbing wail, and then started forward. She stopped as she heard a click behind her and turned to see that the panel had closed. She pushed against it then pounded it furiously. It was no use. She was locked in.
End Notes:
I'm trying something experimental with the bold, italics, and underlining here. It should become clear in time if it isn't already.
Also, this was originally intended to be a brief one shot, but that didn't really work out, and this initial tavern scene was one of the most vexing. First it was in, but I hated the tone, so I rewrote it to something close to its current form, then I thought it was making the story too long, so I cut it, but then deadlines passed, and I stopped worrying about the length and put it back in. Mainly because I just enjoyed the thought of someone recognizing that Diego is a handsome man and thinking of him and Victoria as being a couple but also because I felt that I needed a bit more foreshadowing of possible unearthly events to come than I had without the tavern scene. I briefly considered writing a version of the meeting with the Emissary to open with, but I thought this was more what was needed to set up the story, and that scene would be superfluous.
Another of the problems I had writing the story was coming up with a realistic timeline of events. Especially since the show's incredible lack of care about travel distances and basic history are highlighted here, as the real Santa Paula dates from the 1870s and is 60 some odd miles from Los Angeles (at least from the Pueblo de Los Angeles historical monument), which at the time would definitely be more than a one day trip. But then the show also had Diego managing to go to France and back in a three month period. So yeah, I took a deep breath and repeated my mantra of "if the show didn't care, why should I?", but that still left me calculating how long it would take to go there and back among other things. I finally decided that it would be around a three hour or so trip and basically max out the distance horses could travel in a single day for the round trip, but since I know very little about horses take all that with a grain of salt. However, I've probably given that more thought than the writers ever did.
Another anachronism that the show used was modern type matches. And along with that, I'm not sure if the particular flowers/herbs I mentioned would be readily available in California at the time, but I've been having a hard enough time writing as it is without going into a deep dive on that subject; I did the most cursory search on herbs that are supposed to protect against evil and picked the ones that seemed most apropos for my purposes. I can only ask for forgiveness for my own inaccuracies.
Also, though it isn't overly relevant, the layout/look of this hacienda was very loosely based off Disney's de la Vegas' hacienda.
And speaking of Disney influences, Don Basilio gets his first name from the last name of a villain in the Disney series, and Señor Paiva gets his name from the actor who played a tavern owner in it as well. Also Teresa gets her name from a character in Monterey who seemed to have a soft spot for Diego.
And as this is this first story I've uploaded in 18 months, I'm feeling more unsure than ever about its quality, so any feedback would gratefully received.