Laughter often accompanied dinner. Tasia had grown used to it since Innocenzio had become her companion. His joy in the feast became hers. No longer was she subjected to ennui about her meal. Instead, she reveled in it almost as much as he did.

He smiled as he licked the last drop of blood from his lips. He turned to Robert. The short, little Englishman had joined her household shortly after Innocenzio. One day she would kill him and allow him to be reborn into a vampire, but until that day, he would protect her and her secrets. "As usual, Robert, you did an excellent job with the selection of our dinner."

Robert smiled at Innocenzio's compliment. He loved her young vampire as much as she did, and if she were willing to share, he would offer himself to Innocenzio as a lover. She, however, was not willing to share. So, Robert expressed himself by making sure Innocenzio's every wish was answered.

She waved to Robert, and he picked up the remains of the young woman that had been Innocenzio's dinner. The lifeless eyes of her meal stared up at her from the pale corpse lying at her feet as she reached over to pick up her wine glass. The man had been a coward-he'd offered up his wife's life in exchange for his own-and she always thought the blood of cowards tasted slightly off, but Robert's choice of wine had been inspired and eased her disappointment in his selection of meal for her tonight.

As she sipped from her glass, she remembered the new information revealed during Innocenzio's sleep. The messenger that she received earlier had kept her occupied for most of the night and away from her lover. He smiled at her. She quietly said his name, enjoying the sound of it.

"Yes, my love," he said, leaning forward. He had the manners of a human, but she found them endearing instead of silly. He affected her senses beyond reason, beyond anything she'd felt before. Perhaps it was time to take a new lover. Even as the thought passed through her mind, she rejected it. She was not ready to give him up just yet.

"I was wondering," she sighed, learning forward herself. However, her movement came from thought instead of instinct. Her hearing was excellent; the sound of a body being dumped into a wagon outside was as loud as if Robert was in the room with them performing his duties. With deliberate effort, she had left behind most of her human traits centuries ago, but she had been relearning them for this new one. "Does the name 'de la Vega' mean anything to you?"

He clutched his empty glass so tightly it should have broken. He looked down at it and took a shaky breath as he forced his fingers to relax. "De la Vega. De la Vega. I-I can't remember." Rubbing his forehead, he sighed. "It's like the name should mean something, but-it makes me feel frustrated and amused."

"Frustrated and amused?"

His eyes twinkled as he shrugged. "Odd but true. Why do you ask?"

"You said the name in your sleep last night."

Excitement danced across his handsome features. "I did? Do you think it's my name?"

"No," she said with a small smile. "I do not believe you are a de la Vega."

"Why not?"

She took another sip of her wine. "The way you said the name-whoever he was, he was your enemy."

"The fact he was my enemy doesn't mean he wasn't a member of my family."

Remembering her own past as a human, she laughed. "True. However, most family members don't call each other by last name."

He laughed with her. "Would be confusing at family gatherings."

"True." She looked down at the parchment sitting on the table in front of her.

She heard Innocenzio settle back into his chair. "So, we are about to move. Again."

Her eyebrow lifted as she shifted her focus back to him. "How-?"

"You have been distracted ever since you received that-" he pointed at the letter in front of her "-earlier. And tonight we dined on locals instead of livestock. I believe my entrée was the daughter of the wealthiest man in this area. Sure to be missed. Although he may have been willing to overlook the loss of his son-in-law," he said as he glanced down at the man at her feet.

A flicker of her eyebrow as she glanced down at the body was the only outward display of distaste she allowed herself. Innocenzio knew her; she had little doubt he could sense her scorn earlier as the man cried on her dress, pleading for mercy, offering to help her capture other humans to stand in his place.

She returned the conversation to the envelope. "So you managed to deduce my plans. I do love your mind."

He smiled that wonderfully wicked smile of his. "But not as much as my body."

"No," she admitted, standing. She strolled to his end of the table, the envelope clutched tightly in her fingers. "Your body is a fine instrument."

"And you know how to play it."

She leaned down and gently sucked on his ear. "That I do, my love."

He tensed as Robert walked in to clear her side of the table. Unlike the other traits he maintained from his life, his modesty did not amuse her. She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. "You are mine to do with as I please. When I please."

Excitement flared in his eyes. "Yes, Mistress." His tone was slightly mocking, challenging her.

Instead of infuriating her, it increased her own excitement. Hours passed before she remembered the envelope and the hint to a long-promised power it contained. A power that would be found in a place called Los Angeles.

ZZZ

Diego reached inside the cart for another cask of wine. In the month since Victoria had announced her pregnancy, he had done as much physical labor as he could. Wanting to punish himself, he pushed himself harder than ever before. Every night, he fell into bed beside his silent wife, knowing that she was pretending to sleep. Sometimes he even managed to sleep until the dawn.

"Here, Diego, let me take that," a smooth voice said from behind him. He resisted the urge to plant his fist in the man's face. He even kept himself from grabbing onto the wood tighter, fighting the desire to act as if the wine was a meaty bone and he and Raul were two hungry dogs. Sometimes he even amazed himself with his self-control. Every muscle in his body itched to wipe the smirk off that man's face.

"Of course," he said, trying to smile as he handed the wine over. He would not hand over his wife so easily. Victoria was his, even if she was unhappy. They had made vows, and Raul would not be allowed to become between them. He wished he believed his own thoughts; he used to never doubt Victoria's love. But that was before he saw the misery in her eyes, before she became so unhappy with him.

He wiped his brow. Even though the sun had already begun to set, the day's heat still hung in the air. He wondered if he could go inside the tavern and tell Victoria he would escort her home. Perhaps he should just wait until she walked out, but what if she was with Raul now? What if the other man had carried his cask of wine inside the tavern, showing off his strength, and flirted with Victoria? Diego shook his head as he reached for another barrel; his imagination was supplying all types of fantasies these days. Within minutes he could go from imagining Victoria passionately proclaiming her love to imagining her just as passionately declaring her hate. Both feelings would be preferable to the cold indifference she now usually showed him.

"Excuse me, Señor," a voice so melodic that it had to belong to a singer brought his attention away from his wife and back to the plaza. "I have come to pick up the last of our luggage. The innkeeper said we could keep it here until we had everything settled."

"I'm sorry, Señorita, but I do not work here. I'll help you find Raul, the manager, and he can help you find your luggage."

The black-haired beauty in front of him laughed. She covered her mouth. "I'm sorry. My mistake. I saw you help unload the wagon-"

Diego waved away her apology. "A natural assumption, Señorita." He was covered in dust and grime from a day of hard labor, and his clothes were in worse shape than he was.

"It is Señora, Señor."

"My turn to apologize," Diego said with a slight bow.

She held out her hand. "Señora Tasia Tepes," she introduced herself.

Leaning over, he kissed her hand. "Diego de la Vega, at your service." With her hand still grasped in his own, he started to pull himself up straight when his gaze met hers. He froze in place, unable to think, lost in the beauty of those eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, but he could find neither the words nor the ability. His blood surged through his veins, and he had to fight the urge to taste her lips. Those eyes, they held the answers he yearned for, answers to questions he did not even know to ask.

"Diego." He turned to find his wife standing beside him.

"V-Victoria," he stuttered, regaining his senses. Looking over his shoulder at Señora Tepes, he noticed her smile. Perfect white teeth framed by luscious red lips. Yet, even as he was drawn to that smile, he feared it. It was too knowing, too . . . Something.

Ridiculous, he told himself, struggling to make his brain work again. She was a woman asking for help. Perhaps the heat was getting to him. Why had he been standing by the wagon? "I was waiting for you-"

"You didn't have to," she said, obviously unaware or indifferent to what had passed between her husband and the stranger. "Raul could have escorted me home."

He tensed at the name. The thorn in his side. The reason for Victoria's growing distance from him. "Well, I'll be going then," he said stiffly. He congratulated himself for not snarling at her. He turned to leave when his manners reasserted themselves. "Victoria, let me introduce you to Señora Tepes." He found himself unable to meet the new lady's eyes again. "She left some luggage here that she wishes to retrieve. Señora Tepes, this is the owner of this fine establishment, Victoria de la Vega. She is also my wife."

Victoria visibly tensed at the word "wife". He wished they were alone so he could ask her to accept her fate. They were married now. She had the de la Vega heir in her belly. Could she not find happiness with him? They used to be friends before they were married. Why couldn't they be that now? If he could not have her love, he would settle for friendship.

She politely shook hands with the alluring stranger. "If you will follow me, Señora Tepes, I will introduce you to Raul, and he can tell you where we have stored your luggage."

"Please, call me Tasia. My husband and I will be living in the area," she told them.

"You moved into Don Vidal's hacienda?" Diego asked, suddenly dreading the answer. He wanted miles between him and this woman, not the few dozen acres that were between his home and Don Vidal's.

Tasia nodded. "Yes, we have. Please, Señor de la Vega, let me buy you-and your wife-a drink as an apology."

Victoria looked up at him. "An apology?"

"I mistakenly thought your husband was your employee," Tasia explained. The strain on Victoria's face deepened for reasons he didn't understand. He knew his wife was not the social snob the lady before him was.

"Honestly, Señora Tasia, it is unimportant. In Los Angeles, everyone helps out where they are needed," Diego answered, keeping his hand on the small of Victoria's back and trying to keep Tasia's eyes out of his line of sight.

Her laughter was as musical as her voice. "Of course, Señor, but it is strange to me. I have been shown an entirely different way of life since I came to the Americas from Europe. The lines of class are blurred here. I admit, I cannot decide if it is better. Life was simpler, I think, when everyone had a well-defined role to play, and they played it."

Diego thought of his own courtship with Victoria, and the roles he had played. In many ways, it had been the hardest and the simplest of times for him. He knew what Victoria expected of him in both his roles. Now confusion and doubt about her desires plagued him. Did she still love Zorro? Did she still like Diego? Somehow he doubted the answer was "yes" to either of those questions. "I agree, Señora Tasia."

His wife stiffened even more, although he doubted the stranger could see her displeasure. "Perhaps you and Señora Tasia could have your drinks while I arrange for her luggage to be loaded on her carriage, Diego."

"Please say yes, Señor."

"Diego," he told her even as he wondered why he was asking for a familiarity he did not want. He yearned to run from this woman and the strange feelings she aroused in him. "I'd be honored," he found himself saying, agreeing to a drink he did not desire. What he wanted was to take his wife home. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to hear her laugh again.

Victoria turned away and left them alone to enter the tavern. Diego found them a table and waited for the mysterious señora to have a seat. Sitting down, he looked around the room for Victoria, but she was nowhere to be found. Neither was Raul. Diego's stomach rolled.

"Your wife runs a clean establishment here," Tasia said as she pulled off her gloves. "It was the nicest tavern in the territory in which we have stayed."

Diego nodded. "Victoria's Tavern is known throughout for its cleanliness and service. But my wife no longer does the day-to-day running of it. She has hired a manager."

"Raul," Tasia sighed. "We met him the night we arrived; he was so kind. And so handsome." Every woman had that to say about Raul. He was almost as tall as Diego, but his chest was twice as big. His elfin face should have looked odd on his muscular body, but instead it made him even more handsome. Diego had nearly bumped into a few ladies who had stopped to stare at the man, and he had heard that one of their English guests had written a poem about Raul's emerald eyes.

"Yes, that's Raul," he agreed. He did not spit the words out, even though he wanted to do so. He continued to smile, even as he wanted to scream. "Ah, Teresa, how are you doing today?"

The young barmaid standing by their table grinned. "I'm doing wonderfully, Don Diego," she shared. "My beau asked me to marry him last night."

"Congratulations!" Diego returned her smile. Joy flowed from Teresa, and he couldn't resist her happiness, even in his misery.

"Thank you," Teresa giggled. "I'm hoping to be as happy as you and Doña Victoria."

Diego's grin faltered, but he recovered it before she could notice. "I hope you have all the joy and the happiness I had on my wedding day."

"Thank you," she said. As if remembering where she was and what she was supposed to be doing, she stood up straighter and asked them what they would like to drink.

"I would like a small glass of your wine," Tasia ordered. A small smile remained on her lips, and Diego's curiosity wanted to know why she always had that content all-knowing expression. It reminded him of a satisfied cat.

He hesitated for a moment. He usually ordered water or a fruit juice, but today he felt the need for something stronger. "Make that two, Teresa." The barmaid's eyebrows shot up, but she said nothing before leaving to get their order.

"Los Angeles seems to be a friendly pueblo," Tasia said after their drinks arrived.

"It is," Diego answered before taking a long sip from his glass.

She played with her glass, gently rubbing her fingers across the rim. "Have you lived here all your life?"

"Most of it," Diego answered, fascinated by the movement of her hands on the glass. "I lived in Spain ten years ago while I went to the university."

"Really?" she said in surprise. "Why did you come back?"

His eyes met hers and his heart began pumping harder. "This is my home. It is what I love. I admit that I'm further behind on current scientific research than I would like, but I could never live anywhere else."

Tasia nodded and took a small sip of wine. "I wish I understood that feeling. I think I did long ago, but it has been many years since I considered any place 'home'."

"I'm sorry to hear that." He meant it. Even with everything that was wrong for him right now, he could not imagine a world where he did not have a place to call home, a place like Los Angeles.

She smiled. "Listening to you, I think I am sorry, too. Maybe I will find a home here."

"You're not planning on staying?" He knew that Don Vidal would never sell his hacienda, but he assumed she was staying there while she found someplace more permanent.

Laughing, she shook her head. "I cannot remember the last place I moved to expecting to stay. I recently spent several years at a beautiful little estate outside of the Fortaleza del Diablo-"

"The Devil's Fortress? Nasty place," Diego said, remembering his visit to the prison. Occasionally, his nightmares reminded him of the look on Ramone's face as he fell to his death.

Tasia nodded. "The prison itself was, but the area surrounding it was wonderful. After the prisoners escaped, I felt such fear-I'm afraid I had to move. No place I've lived since has felt the same."

"I'm sorry." To his surprise, he reached over and laid his hand on hers.

She looked down at their hands. "Have you ever been there, Diego?"

"To the Devil's Fortress?" His blood sang so loudly, he almost forgot that Diego had never been there. Zorro had, but not Diego. The roles he played sometimes confused him, but Victoria had preferred the acts to the truth. "N-n-n-no, I haven't. My wife has been there once-only she was not my wife then. H-her father died there." He never stuttered; he sounded like a schoolboy with his first crush.

"I am sorry. I heard the horror stories of that place," Tasia told him, a small shudder coursing through her body. Diego resisted the urge to stand and hug her close, to comfort her.

He caressed her hand. "Yes, it was a horrible place. He did not deserve to die there."

"At least he saw his daughter-he had not already passed before she arrived?" Tasia moved her hand above his and lightly stroked it.

Diego watched her fingers move over the back of his hand, entranced by the light touch. He nodded. "Yes, she arrived before he died. Barely. She had to see him die in that dirty jail cell. I wish I had been there, had somehow freed him at least a day before. He should have been allowed to die in clean surroundings with his loved ones around him."

"I understand," her soft melodic voice told him as he watched her fingers travel across his. "I hope she had a good friend with her. Your father, perhaps?"

Diego shook his head. "N-no, my father couldn't travel. He'd fallen from his horse and sprained his ankle. Sergeant Mendoza and our alcalde went with her."

"More wine?" Teresa snapped, bringing Diego out of his trance. He jerked his hand away, and lowered his head when he saw the disappointment in the waitress' eyes.

"No, Teresa, I think I've had enough," he told her.

"I also have had enough for now. I'm sure the luggage must be loaded. Good day, Diego." Standing, Tasia nodded her head and swayed across the room to the door. Even with Teresa watching, Diego was unable to keep his gaze away from the new lady.

"An interesting woman," Victoria said from beside him.

He flinched, startled by her presence. Looking at her, he could see the disappointment in her eyes. Her brown beautiful orbs used to be filled with love and laughter; now, they held pain and misery. "Yes, she is," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "Are you ready to head home?" The swishing of skirts alerted Diego to Teresa's departure.

She nodded. "Yes, I'm ready. I've already told Raul goodbye."

Diego forced his fingers to relax. Don Diego could not be seen punching a man, even if he greatly deserved it. "Good; I'm sure Maria already has supper waiting for us."

"I'm sure," Victoria said as they walked out the door. Outside, she pulled herself into the carriage, ignoring Diego's offered hand. He sighed and climbed into their transportation. His wife arranged her skirt so that even it was not touching him. Their driver, talking to his friends on the front porch, noticed they were ready and rushed over to take them home.

"You know, Diego," she finally said to him. Her voice was barely a whisper above the pounding of the horses' hooves and the creaking of the wheels. "If you thought everyone should stay in their place, you should not have married below yourself."

Diego turned to stare at her. "What?"

"You agree with Tasia that it is nice when everyone stays in their place," she snapped, her eyes flashing. At last something else besides listlessness and pain that had been there for far too long.

"That's not what I said." He struggled to find the words to explain his feelings, but Victoria turned away from him, letting him know the conversation was over. The all-too-familiar silence escorted them home.

Z Z Z

Tasia carefully worked the cream into her skin. The sun didn't cause them to melt as the old legends claimed, but its affects were felt. Even the few minutes she had spent out in it today had caused a mild sunburn. Innocenzio, being much younger, would have been covered in welts had he gone today.

She smiled at him when he walked into the bedroom. "I am sorry, my dear, but I am afraid you will have to be bedridden."

"Not just too weak to leave the house?" he asked as he bent over to kiss her.

"No, not here. Not in Los Angeles."

He pulled away, a frown between his brows. "Why?"

"I do not want you seen," she replied. She stood up from the bench and walked towards her wardrobe, her silk dressing gown billowing around her. "I think you may be known here."

Instead of excitement, she saw anger on his face. He sniffed, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him. His nose tickled the delicate skin of her wrist. "You have touched another man today. I can smell him on you."

"Very good. Your sense of smell is improving." He ground his teeth but said nothing. He knew her, and knew he had no authority over her. She smiled as she watched him hold back his demand that she stay away from every man but him. Jealousy—usually such a silly, ugly emotion. But her stomach fluttered at the sight of it on Innocenzio.

"His blood sang to me," she whispered, taking a step closer to her lover. "Sang to me so loudly."

While Innocenzio might be new to her world, he understood. "So you are going to bring someone new into our home."

"My home," she reminded him, pulling her hand from his grasp. "My home, my rules."

He swallowed down his fury and nodded. "I know. I just—don't like to share."

She would rather walk through fire than admit to him that where he was concerned, she felt the same way. "Fortunately for you, I'm not ready to leave this place yet, and his loss would attract too much attention to us. His wife owns the tavern."

"His wife owns the tavern?" He rolled his eyes. "He doesn't sound like the kind of man you prefer."

"No," she admitted as she picked out a new dress for the night. "But there was something—"

Her body sang again as she remembered the feel of his hands on hers. "His father is the largest land holder in the area. He is an only child. He married an inn keeper instead of someone worthy of his station, and talking to a sergeant today, I got the impression that he is one of those people that is unwilling to fight."

"A coward," Innocenzio spat.

She looked down at her hand. "No, I do not think so. I could feel the power in him. He is greatly admired by everyone."

"Admired?"

"He is one of those people."

"Those people?" She saw understanding come to him a moment later. Innocenzio laughed that wonderfully dry chuckle of his. "Ah, one of those people."

"Yes," she sighed, stepping into his arms. "One of those people who believe they should leave the world a better place. It would be fun to corrupt such a man, Innocenzio."

"But we need to stay here," he said, failing to hide his relief.

"Yes," she said. "We cannot corrupt de la Vega—yet—because we need to stay here."

"De la Vega?"

"Did I forget to mention that part?" she asked with a false innocence that no one would believe.

Finally, the excitement she expected earlier flared in those eyes. "You think it might be—"

"Maybe," she answered. "Which is why you need to stay 'bedridden' for our stay in Los Angeles."

"Well, I admit," he said as he pulled her in for a kiss. "I have always liked being ridden in bed."

Z Z Z

After dinner, Diego found himself in the cave. He had not planned to ride as Zorro tonight. He usually rode when he knew something was about to happen or knew that some bandits were in the area, but he did occasionally ride just to make his presence felt. Tonight he was riding away from something. He would be running away from his enemy, but his demons were one enemy he could not outrace.

But he had to try.

As he dressed, he missed Felipe. He selfishly wished the young man were here to help him. Felipe had spent too much of his life looking after Diego. Now, he was in Spain studying for his law degree and taking a tour of Europe before returning to California to live.

But he could use a caring ear right now.

"Hello, boy," he said as he patted his mute companion. "I promise not to talk about Victoria tonight. At least not too much."

Tornado ran beneath him as if the lancers were following them. Dust swirled behind them, leaving an opaque trail in the moonlit air, but Diego's demons stayed with him, buried deep in his heart. The day he married Victoria had been the happiest day in his life. He thought it had been hers, too. Then everything changed. Zorro failed her, and the man behind the mask apparently wasn't enough for her to love.

He finally pulled up on Tornado's reins when they were on Don Fernado's land. Diego remembered last month's party. They had been celebrating the birthday of Dońa Abegail, but bandits had robbed the coach. Since Zorro had to ride to find them, Diego asked Victoria to tell Don Alejandro that she was ill so they could miss the party. However, it had not only been an excuse. The next morning, she told them that she was expecting.

He had wanted to scream, to yell, to laugh. He wanted to twirl his wife around the room. He wanted to make love to her. Instead, after he saw the look of unhappiness on her face, he had spent the entire breakfast talking about the furniture they needed to buy to prepare the nursery.

Tornado stopped, jarring Diego from his dark thoughts. He started to ask what was wrong, when he saw the answer himself. The legs sticking out from behind the boulder had caught Tornado's notice, and they now had his rider's attention. Death had made a calling in the area.

Z Z Z