Hi! I know it has been a long wait for some, but I have not forgotten you (nor my story!). I bet you have forgotten most of the details by now, and you're perhaps thinking of reading everything again? Ahah. Let me summarize quickly where we had left off with the characters:
Antoine Garat visited the abandoned house where his family used to live, and he just fought a duel with Martínez, who had been seeking his revenge for a few days now;
Capitán Monastario lost consciousness after the bandits escaped the cuartel prison with the help of one of the guards;
Diego got hit by a small dart while escaping the Escudero hacienda, where he discovered one of Imelda's strange secrets;
Bernardo was caught off guard and knocked unconscious after witnessing a discussion between a shady stranger and Martínez;
In the past, we have learned how Don Tomás passed away from a heart attack, and some hints at the relationship between Imelda and Jacques,who seemed angry at her;
and we also had a glimpse at the origins of Nina.
Hope that helps putting things back into context ;) Hope you enjoy chapter 13, which is WAY overdue...
The notes of the old piano, resonating across the main room of the de la Vega hacienda, filled the air with their mechanical drone. Diego was absently hitting the keys, lost in his thoughts and merely playing out of habit. He had not even heard his father sigh heavily for the past few minutes. The old man was visibly annoyed by the horrible music to which he was being forced to listen.
"Diego! Would you stop that!" Alejandro finally exclaimed, emphatically closing the book he had been trying unsuccessfully to read. The dull sound made the young caballero jump and brought him back to reality. He cocked his head to the side, peeking out the window, noticing the fiery orange of the sky.
"I am sorry, Father," Diego whispered, unable to stop thinking about the events of the day. Taking his fingers off the keys, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a laced handkerchief. Slowly, he wiped the small beads of perspiration off his temples, and noticed with a frown that his left hand was still shaking slightly despite his best efforts to keep it still. Playing the piano was the only means he had found of hiding this weakness, which had developed a few hours after his return home. He thought at first he had injured himself from the fall off the balcony at Señora Escudero's hacienda, but after a closer examination, he had found nothing but a few bruises. The only other thing he had noticed was some redness and swelling on his upper left arm where he had been hit by the small dart, which he had immediately covered with ointment and a clean bandage to prevent infection.
Bernardo usually tended Diego's wounds, but his faithful friend had mysteriously disappeared without leaving a message, and no one in the hacienda had seen or heard of him since he and the caballero had left for town this morning. Deep in his heart, Diego hoped his friend would be back soon, but he could not help but worry about him.
The young man was also wondering what Tonio was doing right now. The spirited soldier would not miss the opportunity to learn what Diego could have found at the Escudero hacienda, and unless the Comandante had found a way to keep his soldiers busy, he should have run straight to the de la Vegas by now.
"What's on your mind, son?" Alejandro asked after an awkward silence.
"I... It's nothing serious, Father," Diego replied as he stood up. "I think I need some fresh air."
Nervously, he shook some invisible dust off his sleeves and headed for the door, not even sparing a glance at his father, who was frowning at yet another strange act from his son. As Diego distractedly opened the door, he suddenly came face to face with Sergeant Garcia, who was just about to knock.
"Ah, Don Diego, buenas tardes!" he mumbled in confusion.
Diego was surprised as well, not expecting a visit from the Sergeant. Even if Señora Escudero had reported the strange visit from Zorro at her hacienda earlier in the day, the sergeant would not have any reason to ride out to the de la Vegas and ask them about this incident.
"To what do we owe the honor of your visit, Sergeant Garcia?" Diego sighed, not wishing to spend the evening entertaining the rotund man.
Nervously, Garcia looked back over his shoulder and stepped in, closing the door behind him. He licked his lips, looking for his words.
"Well... What is it, Sergeant?" the young man repeated in a brisk tone.
"Don Diego... Don Alejandro... I... I do not know what to do. Well... The Comandante—"
"What has he done now!" Alejandro interrupted, anger already flushing his cheeks as he stood up.
"He's... been... kidnapped," the large soldier finally said.
The first thing Monastario saw when he woke up was... nothing. At first he grunted, unsure of what had happened, but the last events before he had lost consciousness came rushing through his mind faster than he could process them. He had been drugged by prisoners who had escaped his jail cells!
After the emotional flashbacks came the physical ones, and with burning anger the proud man pulled vainly on his restraints. Most insulting of all was the gag over his mouth, preventing him from uttering any curse related to his current situation.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, he tried to squint his eyes and discern where he had been taken, but it was pitch black. The only things he could feel were the ropes digging into the flesh of his wrists and the leather of his boots; a faint dizziness, probably an aftereffect of the drug he had been given; the hard ground under him; and every single pebble which sent shards of pain through his back. The surrounding sounds of insects and birds indicated he was outside and not locked up in a room.
"Well, well... Seems he finally woke up," Monastario heard close by. He stiffened when he recognized the voice as Manolo's.
Suddenly, a thick drape was pulled, and the Comandante was blinded by the light of a burning torch raised high above him. Blinking, he tried to make out who had entered the tent, but the light was too bright, and he turned to his left, seeking some shelter for his eyes.
The gesture prompted another discovery. Bernardo! What was he doing here?! The mute servant of Don Diego was tied up just as well, lying down a few inches away in the same fashion. He was conscious also, and the look both men shared for a short moment was tainted with a mixture of resignation and fear.
"Hmm... The other one is awake too. What are we going to do with the quiet one there?" Vinicio asked with a snicker.
"I don't know yet, amigo, but it must be important if he ordered us to keep an eye on him. I wonder what he did to—"
Vinicio laughed and emphatically clasped the other bandit's shoulder. "He probably just saw something he was not supposed to see."
Monastario wondered what the other was about to reveal inadvertently before he was cut short by a seemingly innocuous interruption.
"Yes, well... Now that our good friend Enrique is awake, we can have some fun!" Manolo exclaimed, clasping his hands together.
On those words Monastario impulsively turned his head towards the two men, putting forth all his dignity and presence to make it clear he was not afraid of them. If only that cloth could be taken out of his mouth, they would feel the sting of his harsh words.
"Ohhhh, look, he's mad," Vinicio smirked, a vicious look darkening his features. "Too bad we have orders not to touch him!"
On those words, Vinicio grabbed his friend's arm and they both walked out of the tent, leaving the two prisoners alone in the dark once more. Muffled sounds and voices could be heard nearby, but the men were careful not to speak loud enough to be understood by their captives.
"What?! Kidnapped by whom?" Diego exclaimed in genuine surprise, grabbing Sergeant Garcia by the forearms.
"Those four bandits that Zorro brought in... They broke free of their cells and managed to escape, keeping the Comandante captive as protection. We spent the day looking for—"
"Sergeant," Diego cut in, guessing that the army had been unsuccessful at finding clues as to the bandits' hiding place. "Where is Corporal Garat? Is he looking for the Comandante too?"
"Well... That's just it Don Diego. Corporal Garat is nowhere to be found either. We were both off duty when the Comandante was taken away," the Sergeant muttered in a low voice, as if deeply ashamed of something.
Tonio? He had disappeared also? Was Bernardo's absence linked to this as well?
"I... I came here... seeking advice... and to ask for help. Our forces are spread thin and we have no idea where to look. I thought perhaps I could ask some of your men for help, and... I came here first, since Don Alejandro has... influence among the caballeros..." Sergeant Garcia's voice trailed off to a whisper, and he looked down, his head slightly shaking from side to side as if he already expected no for an answer.
"Are you serious, Sergeant!" Don Alejandro snapped. "This sad excuse of a Comandante is—"
"Father!" Diego interrupted the old man before anger got the upper hand. "Don't forget about the escaped prisoners, they may attack the pueblo again," he explained, hoping his guilt would not show up in his voice. "Tonio is missing as well, perhaps you should consider that fact as well," he said calmly, hoping his father would listen to reason over his deep hatred for Capitán Monastario.
Don Alejandro growled for a while, visibly juggling with his impetuous feelings. Finally, his jaw set, and with a determined look he nodded.
"Fine," he finally conceded. "I'll ask our men to help you with your search, only because I am worried about these dangerous bandidos. However, do not expect our vaqueros to be gladly helping the Army. I will speak with the other caballeros, as you may not get a warm welcome from them either."
"Gracias, Don Alejandro." Sergeant Garcia bowed nervously and quickly left the hacienda, visibly relieved that he got away without riling up the legendary temper of Don Alejandro de la Vega.
"Father," Diego whispered as the old man was about to exit the hacienda in the Sergeant's footsteps.
"What now, Diego?" Don Alejandro spun around to stare at his son, the sharp sting of his eyes speaking volumes about how he was not enjoying at all what he was about to do.
The young man was struggling with his own feelings right now. He certainly understood the desire to simply leave the Comandante to his own fate, but while it was ethically debatable to simply wish a man's death, it was certainly not acceptable to leave one to die if something could be done about it.
These four banditos who kidnapped Monastario were a mystery to Diego. Who were they, really? Had they any ties to Señora Escudero? If she were really the stranger who led Zorro to their lair, would it be too far-fetched to believe she had some devious plan in mind? Had he innocently carried out part of a plan that was aimed at Monastario? Though their meeting had only been fortuitous, Diego was not so certain anymore about Señora Escudero's intentions... Could her sudden, exaggerated interest in the Comandante be hiding something else?
Diego shook his head and blinked, willing away the slightly delirious undertones of his chaotic thoughts. One of the more troubling facts at hand was the unexplained absence of his friends Tonio and Bernardo. There might be a chance the Comandante's kidnapping and their disappearance were not linked, but the timing was a bad one.
"Father..." the young caballero looked up to the old man with a slightly worried look, keeping his arms crossed behind his back. "Could you tell me everything you remember about Jacques Garat?"
"Tonio's father? Why are you asking this now, son?" Don Alejandro was perplexed by the odd request.
"Well," Diego was treading upon dangerous ground now. He could not reveal his suspicions about the Escuderos, Garat, and possibly Monastario, without having to explain his actions as Zorro. "Tonio and I spoke about a few things, and as you know, his father's last wish was for him to come back in California. He was intrigued by the lack of reasons he had asked him to come here and—"
"Diego! What does this have to do with the Comandante?!" his father exclaimed, clearly annoyed.
The young man sighed. "Perhaps Tonio just went on some errand concerning family matters. I just want to try and find him so he can report back at the cuartel."
"Oh," Alejandro frowned, and was silent for a moment. "Tonio did stop by earlier today to ask me where his parents' house was located. I did not make much of it at the time, he seemed in a hurry."
"That's a good place to start," Diego acknowledged, feeling the blood rushing in his veins from the need to jump into action. However, he had to know if there were other clues that might help elucidate Tonio's whereabouts. "Did he ask for anything else? What do you remember about Tonio's father and mother?"
"Not much, actually. I barely knew Jacques Garat and his wife. We first spoke to each other when Don Tomás Escudero Manrique passed away. I never really told you that story, but my good friend had a heart attack in the middle of the street. Right in front of myself and Doña Imelda. He... The doctor was too late, Don Tomás was already gone... "
Diego watched as his father's eyes looked inwardly at the ghosts of his own past. So, there was some sort of link between the Escuderos and the Garats after all, though it did not really help clarify matters concerning Tonio.
"Aside from that, I never really met the Garats outside formal events. They lived a pretty secluded life far from the pueblo," he continued. "No one really knew why, we only wished the doctor could have been more available to help the citizens, but since he was living miles away, only a few made the trip to their house to seek his help."
"What happened to Doña Imelda after her husband passed away?" Diego asked, subtly shifting the topic of the conversation to the mysterious woman. He wondered why his father had not kept in touch with her if Don Tomás had been such a good friend.
"I don't really know. She shunned everyone during her mourning period, even I was refused entrance to her hacienda, and... Well, come to think of it, I never really knew what happened to her. It's as if she disappeared from society, though the Escudero's estate was well kept, and I saw Mateo a few times in town in the past few weeks. She probably returned to Spain with her son for many years, and just came back recently, I would guess."
"Well, we should be going, Father," Diego finally declared, holding back a frustrated grunt. He really did not need more mysteries about Señora Escudero right now. "I'll go check on that house while you gather our vaqueros."
"Cielos! My son suddenly rushing to action? Tonio most certainly has had good influence on you since his return, Diego!" Don Alejandro patted his son's shoulder with a hint of fatherly pride.
If only he knew, thought Diego, gritting his teeth.
Doctor Jacques Garat stood in the dark room panting, overwhelmed by emotions he could not even begin to understand. The pain was simply unbearable.
Just minutes ago, Deiña had passed away. Thankfully, he had been able to keep his emotional turmoil in check for the time he had been treating her. The few people who had come by to visit had only seen his neutral face, what Jacques considered the asset of any decent physician.
Perspiring from exhaustion, he thought back on all the days spent trying to do everything in his power to keep his wife alive. He was simply not accepting the fact that she had finally passed away. How could God do this to him! How unfair! Not her!
He was silent, but all he wanted to do was scream, something which he had never done before.
Moved by something beyond his willpower, he decided to let go of everything: anger, sadness, fear, hate, desperation, madness... Each and every single one of these feelings took hold of his body, and he started yelling, crying, tearing his shirt like a wild beast, kicking and hitting everything that was in his path. Anything to make the pain go away!
Eventually, the Doctor regained his senses, and realized how foolish his actions had been. The pain still remained, despite all he could do to alleviate it. As if the universe had found another way to mock him, Jacques realized with a snickering laugh that his most prized possession was now lying open on the floor. The hands of the pocket watch had stopped moving, probably from the shock of the fall. The light of the candle flickered in the gold cover of the precious object, and without seeing the words, the doctor read them in a whisper. A mi amor...
The physical world was so powerless against the immaterial, and the opposite seemed to be equally futile and ineffectual. Then... Why did Deiña believe so much in the invisible? How could she have so much faith in something that could not be proven, something that could not even save her?
In one last, desperate move, Jacques Garat jumped to the chest of drawers and opened the top one, frantically spilling its content on the floor until the coveted object came into his shaking hands. Slowly, he laid down the velvet box on the tabletop and opened its cover, squinting his eyes at the look of its content. He then carefully picked the diamond necklace up, staring at the jewel with a hatred nurtured by some heinous offense only the most vile criminal could have committed.
After a moment, he turned his head to the side, only to realize with bitterness that a pair of brown eyes had been watching him the whole time.
In silence, he slowly walked to the door and closed it, unable to utter a word. This mourning time was his, and his alone. He would deal with his six-year-old son later.
Antoine turned to his side with a grunt and rubbed his forehead. The headache reminded him of all those he had previously suffered in Spain, but this one was particularly nasty. This was indeed the first time he had got drunk in many, many months. Distractedly, the soldier felt for the coin in his pocket, palpating its edges with the tips of his fingers.
Lying against a short picket a couple of feet from him, Martínez was snoring faintly, sleeping off his own dose of the whiskey bottle they had shared earlier. Antoine had not really wanted to have a drink with his new partner... but better to start out on the right foot if his plan to capture Zorro was to succeed. If they had enough trust to fall asleep in each other's presence, perhaps this would work. It must.
The sun was already below the horizon, where only a faint rosy color provided light. Antoine shivered as a warm gust of wind wrapped him in dust, making his eyes sting. Using his hands as a cover, the young man groaned and tried to hold his breath, making his way to the adobe house to gather his waistcoat and scabbard, which he had shed during the fight with Martínez. He had better hurry; he was supposed to report to the cuartel for night watch.
As he was about to open the door, Antoine heard the distinctive sound of a galloping horse coming his way. Unsure of who would be lurking so far from Los Angeles after sunset, he dashed into the house and pushed the door nearly shut, leaving a slight gap so he could peek at the stranger. He cursed under his breath when he realized Martínez was still outside sleeping, but it was already too late. The horse had come to a stop right in front of the abandoned house.
The rider quickly dismounted and examined the surroundings in a rapid sweep, visibly noting the man lying unconscious, but choosing to ignore him. With assured steps, the figure headed for the abandoned building, and Antoine had barely enough time to swerve around and stick his back to the wall behind the door before it was opened.
With the ease of someone used to walking in the dark, the man headed for the next room, as if he were looking for something specific. Antoine wondered what he could be doing in this abandoned house. He noticed the stranger was not wearing a sword, but he would not run the chance that he were armed with a pistol, thus he held his breath and kept still against the adobe wall.
The figure stopped momentarily and tilted his head to the side, as if thinking of something. Before he could react, Antoine found himself grabbed by the collar.
"Who—?!"
"Merde, Diego!"Antoine yelped in surprise. "You almost gave me a heart attack! How did you know I'd be here?" he snapped, grabbing his friend's forearm to shake him loose.
"It was my best guess," the caballero chuckled. "Who's your friend outside?"
"Drinking companion, s'all."
"Sí, that's the faint smell that gave you away, amigo." Diego poked the soldier on the chest. "Found anything interesting?"
"Nothing, really. My father just left me with an old fool's meaningless ramblings, and nothing more than a sour disap— Diego, what's wrong with you?" Even though it was dark, Antoine noticed how his friend seemed agitated, and how his unusually sweaty forehead reflected the faint light.
The tall man pulled back slightly at the question, as if taken by surprise. For a moment he seemed at a loss for words, and he finally sighed deeply.
"Capitán Monastario has been kidnapped," he declared.
"Quoi?!" The news shook the last remnants of Antoine's drunken stupor. "By whom? Why? What happened?"
Diego brushed aside a lock of his hair with a quivering hand. The soldier had never seen him so visibly troubled and shaken.
"From what little Sergeant Garcia told us, it seems the four prisoners escaped, and took with them the Comandante. My father is organizing a search party with his vaqueros, and getting help from the other caballeros as well," he explained in a hurry.
"Diego, how could these four men have escaped from the cuartel?! Zorro must have helped them! It was a trap, he's the one who brought them in the first place! We should never—"
"Listen, I'm fairly sure Zorro has nothing to do with this," Diego said calmly. "He's never—"
"I'm going to catch this outlaw, Diego, I swear!" Antoine blurted, unable to control his anger. "He's not going to get away with this! I have a plan, don't worry. "
"A plan? What do you mean, Tonio?"
Antoine could hear the worry and reluctance in his friend's voice, and wondered why he did not offer his help right away, or simply get excited, like he used to do in Madrid.
"It's all right, he stands no chance. I can't tell you right now, I have to get back to the cuartel, I'm needed there," the soldier quickly finished his sentence and headed to the back of the house to pick up his belongings, leaving a puzzled Diego behind for a moment.
Antoine wondered what could have shaken his friend so deeply. From what he had observed since his arrival in Los Angeles, not many seemed to hold the Comandante in high esteem, but he would never have thought the disappearance of Capitán Monastario to be so dreadful to the caballero. He, for one, was exceedingly furious. Mainly because he felt guilty and responsible for not having been there when it happened, despite the fact that it was the Comandante who had given him the rest of the afternoon off. Willing his anger inside, Antoine clenched his hands into fists. For now, no matter the reasons, he would have to set the matter of Diego's strange behavior aside.
The young soldier finally spotted his waistcoat lying on the ground, half covering his empty scabbard. He picked them up, promptly brushing the dirt off with his left hand. As he turned around to leave, something caught his eye on the opposite wall of the room, stopping him. With a frown, he cursed under his breath, wondering how he could have missed this odd detail during his scrutiny of the abandoned house.
Perplexed, approaching slowly with a growing feeling of excitement gripping his chest, Antoine realized that something had been scribbled on the wall, and that he could read the characters in the dark.
The other ghosts of this dirty place... Martínez's words came back to memory as he stared at the very faint glow.
"Tonio, what is taking you so long?" Antoine heard Diego enter the room, his steps a clear indication of his impatience. "Why are you—"
"Diego." The tone of the soldier's voice made the caballero stop fretting about his behavior. "I think there's something you should see."
With a sigh, the tall man made his way in the dark to the wall.
"This place is pitch black, I don't see any—what is this?" he exclaimed with disbelief.
"That's the time my mother passed away..." Antoine whispered. "1h17."
Next: More loops are closed in the past (yes, there will eventually be an end to the present and past story), Mateo wonders what is going on with his mother, Diego is getting weaker, and Antoine must come up with a plan to find his Capitán AND capture Zorro!
Note: this is not a ghost story(!) though the vibes coming off this chapter may seem like it's heading this way (as the poor betas told me, thanks for the HUGE help guys!!!). I thought of rewriting the part with Jacques, but finally decided against it - it was written while I was high on cold medication :) I just find that memory cracks me up, I don't know what took me to decide to write while I was sick... :D