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It had hardly been two months since Diego's marriage to Victoria, a fact that he preferred to dwell on rather than it had been only slightly longer ago that he'd been faced with the reality of supernatural creatures of blood and death and had his understanding of the world upended. And yet, despite that, he found himself going to the last place he wanted to return to— the ruins of the hacienda where he'd fought vampires and barely escaped with Victoria.
He had been fortunate that he had been alone when he'd got the news of a giant man asking about the old Torres hacienda from Jorge Garcia, who'd seemed uncharacteristically agitated by the encounter, though he could not say what other than the man's great size that bothered him. He could be harmless, or he could be a man like Solomon Kendall who was chasing monsters or there could be a sinister reason for his questions, and Diego could not risk leaving this uninvestigated. However, he would not go unprotected. A stop in the kitchen for some garlic and a trip down to the cave for his small crossbow and wooden and silver tipped stakes, and a couple of other items that might prove handy and he was on his way, only a note left in the cave to let his family know where he had gone and why.
Even as he approached the site, he was grateful that it was many hours to sunset. He would only approach that place after dark in a true emergency and with no viable options, not just an idle curiosity about why someone else wanted to know about that place. As he drew close, he could only see the ruins of the hacienda, looking as empty and broken as they had when he and Victoria had left them. Perhaps more so with the weeds starting to overtake the rubble. But still there was the lingering sense of evil about the place, that sent a spike of... not fear but apprehension through him.
Outside of the courtyard, Diego dismounted his horse and hoisted the satchel over his back. He had garlic in his coat pocket and a stake up his sleeve for immediate use. He walked gingerly around the edges of the ruin, being particularly careful as to where he stepped not knowing if the ground could collapse into however large the underground cavern there was here.
Everything seemed still and quiet as he moved around the back. He wondered what it was he really thought he might find when he began to hear what sounded like moaning coming from below the drop past the hacienda. It was faint but he followed it anyway, being careful not to slide on the rubble which littered the landscape.
Diego spotted a heavy rockfall, and then a man on the ground pinned beneath it. Though he was struggling, it looked as if he were trapped in such a way as he couldn't release himself. Diego approached cautiously. He didn't want to bring any more rocks down on either of them.
As Diego approached, he could see that this was a giant of a man, and though he could not judge his height from his position, Diego suspected that he would be much taller than him. But his size only mattered in how difficult or easy it would make getting him from beneath his stone prison.
He approached the struggling man. "Señor!" he called out. "I'm here to help!"
Startled, the man twisted his head around to look at Diego, shaking his head to get the long dark hair out of the way, knocking off a pair of black tinted spectacles which had apparently been hanging loosely over his nose, revealing a pair of yellowish eyes—not the only unnatural feature of his face—his lips were nearly black in color, and he had a jaundiced complexion that seemed to have almost the texture of parchment. For a moment, Diego froze wondering if this giant was something malignant and dangerous as the previous visitors to this place had been, but then he noticed the expression in the man's eyes, pain, fear, wariness. No, he would not let fear conquer him; Diego knew better than to judge on outward appearance. This man needed help, and he would help him and then deal with the results as they came.
The man turned his head back up. "Why bother? Let the elements take me; it is justice after all." The man's voice was deep, gravelly yet pleasant, with the slightest hint of a French accent.
Diego furrowed his brow. "I don't know what justice you deserve or think you deserve, but I'm not about to leave a man to die out here." Dropping his satchel, he knelt down beside the man to get a closer look at how the rocks had settled on top him.
There was a rough laugh from the trapped man. "Well, I hardly qualify as a man, so your conscience would be clean," he said.
Diego raised an eyebrow, though more to hide the guilty feeling about his initial reaction about the man's appearance. An unfortunately common one, he presumed. "Well, my conscience is rather sensitive," he said with a forced lightness of tone, "so I'll hedge my bets by staying and helping. My name is Diego de la Vega, by the way. What's yours?"
The man closed his eyes. "You can call me Victor," he said, his dark lips curled up in a poor approximation of a smile. "Taken from my father..." He coughed slightly and his voice lowered to a whisper, "like everything else not given."
"Victor. That's a strong name," Diego said, carefully not addressing the last part of his statement, which he wasn't sure he was supposed to hear. Now was not the time to dwell on whatever painful issues the man had with his father among others. So he continued with, "My wife's name is Victoria, and she's one of the strongest souls I know. Now let's see about getting you free." He eyed the rocks trying to determine how they could be most safely moved. "I need to know how you're feeling under there. Are you trapped or crushed? Can you move— feel anything— at all?"
Victor grunted as he shifted about. "I do not think anything is crushed, merely trapped. Something is holding up the heaviest rocks, I think. There is room for me to move a little; only not enough."
"All right," Diego said. "Then I need to be careful not to disturb the balance while getting you loose. Let's see if we can get your arms free."
There were some smaller, lighter looking stones near Victor's head. Diego began moving them away before looking to the larger slab over Victor's middle. That would take some maneuvering and something to use as leverage— and hope that it would lift and not slip down onto the man beneath.
He preferred not to work in silence but was uncertain of what to say. Wanting to alleviate some of the gravity of the situation, he half smiled, hoping to look confident. "Seeing as how I can't think of a less appropriate time to ask, can you tell me how you ended up in this situation?" he asked.
"When I arrived, there was a cave opening that appeared... artificial," Victor said. "I went to look and then suddenly the rocks were falling. And thus..." He trailed off, squirming and shifting as Diego lifted the rocks. One arm emerged from the rocks and with another grunt came the second.
"Be careful," Diego said, watching uneasily the shifting rocks.
"Stand back," Victor said. "I... I can..." He paused and then started pushing at the large slab on top of him. And before Diego could protest further, he shoved up and out and with a cracking sound the slab broke away, leaving him free to scramble up, which he did with surprising ease.
Diego looked up at Victor in astonishment; he shouldn't have been to do that, but then he was a good foot taller than Diego, with strength to match. Diego swallowed back, the nervousness. Nothing Victor had done up to this point had seemed threatening.
"Are you injured?" Diego asked as Victor stood hunched over slightly catching his breath. He looked him over for anything obvious. There were no visible injuries, and as for clues as to the kind of man he might be, Victor was wearing sturdy, practical clothes of more Russian than Spanish in fashion with a hint of English in his long coat, but what was most obvious is that they had all been specifically tailored for his outsized frame.
"Not enough to matter," Victor said, picking up his black spectacles and replacing them on his face, then stepping over to grab up a wide brimmed hat that lay nearby, dusting it off before pulling it onto his head. Only then did he add hesitatingly, "I thank you for your assistance."
"Can I ask what happened? Why you're out here?" Diego asked. "There is nothing here of any importance."
"Oh, but there was, was there not?" Victor asked, though it sounded more like an assertion than a question. "Something," he looked around the space slowly and carefully, "of a more monstrous caliber than myself?"
"Other than your size and strength," Diego said, pushing away that initial disquiet. "I have seen nothing particularly monstrous about you, sir. But, yes, there was something... someone monstrous here, more than one in fact. But they're gone and they won't be harming anyone again."
"Are you certain?" Victor asked.
"Yes," Diego said shortly. "Very." He tried to sound confident but couldn't be absolutely certain if it was more for his new found acquaintance's sake or his own.
Victor's eyes narrowed slightly, seeming to sense Diego's trace of uncertainty, before looking around. "But evil is never really gone, is it?" he said grimly. "There are some stains which do not wash out. No matter how much we may wish it. I would know."
"What were you looking for?" Diego asked.
"The truth about who or what was here and what happened to them," Victor said. "And so it seems I was looking for... you."
"Unfortunately," Diego said, with a heavy sigh. "What happened here is something I would prefer to forget. Something that contradicted all I thought I knew about the world. Something beyond the natural."
"We all have things we would like to forget, especially I. But 'beyond the natural' is the world I inhabit. That of the unnatural part of 'natural philosophy'. I was never meant to belong to the 'natural'. So whatever tale you have to tell will find a willing and believing ear."
Diego was curious. "Well, if you are willing to trade stories, then I will tell you what happened here."
"My full story is too long and dark and stained with crimes of a former life to make for easy telling, nor do I wish to burden yet another with it," Victor said, his voice low and solemn.
"Well, tell me what tale you will," Diego said, "perhaps the one that led you here, and I will tell you what I can of mine. I have my own secrets that I would only share with those I trust and not a stranger."
Victor nodded. "Fair enough," he said. "A tale for a tale. First yours and then mine."
"Since this is bound to take some time," Diego said. "Should we sit?" He looked around. The nearby hill seemed like it would be comfortable enough and out of the way of further falling rocks. And though Victor said he wasn't badly hurt, he surely wouldn't want to keep standing.
Diego picked up his satchel from the ground. It seemed he would not be needing the contents after, at least he hoped that would be the case. The two men walked over, and Diego saw Victor settle gingerly in an inclined position against the hillside. Diego sat and stretched his legs in front of him, his bag at his feet.
He took a moment to consider the best way to tell this story. It was easy to know what to leave out. His identity as Zorro and the existence of the book Dracula wanted. There was so much he wanted to forget that it was hard to figure out the simplest version that would not bring up more questions than he wanted to answer.
"It's hard to know where to begin," Diego said.
"Such as it is with all the best stories," Victor said, almost smiling but not quite.
"Indeed," Diego continued, "but the simplest way to start...," he hesitated for a moment to get his thoughts. There wasn't anything simple about this. "A...creature...a vampire named Dracula swept into the pueblo of Los Angeles bringing blood and death in his wake."
"Did he come alone?" Victor asked.
"No," Diego said. "At his right hand was a man named Boris Delgado, who acted for him during daylight as well as night, and some others whose names I never knew."
"And what happened to this Delgado?"
"Delgado?" Diego asked, wondering why Victor was more interested in him than the vampire. "He... was killed by Solomon Kendall, a hunter of..." he hesitated trying to find a word which would not seem to apply to the man before him, "of... evil."
"Are you certain?" Victor asked, urgently. "Was silver involved?"
"Silver?" Diego thought carefully, then remembered Solomon Kendall coating his sword with silver particles. "Yes, silver was involved."
"And were any of the others of his family? For instance a man and a woman, dark of hair and light of eye?"
"No," Diego said, slowly. "As far as I am aware, there were no women involved here save those local women Dracula turned into vampires, and they were all killed. And of the men, as far as I know they were human. Boris was the only one Solomon Kendall said was not quite what he appeared to be. He called him a hell beast, said something about the full moon, or rather that we were lucky we had not reached one, but there was never any further explanation, though I think he would have warned me if Dracula had any other servants as dangerous as he believed Boris to be." And he had to wonder why it was that Boris seemed to be the one to draw the most interest rather than his blood-sucking master. It was Dracula who had driven Diego's fear. It had been Dracula who had gone after Victoria. It had been Dracula he had been forced to kill. Though perhaps it was best, as Diego hardly wanted to relive his experiences with the vampire. "Why are you asking?"
Victor sighed heavily. "That is part of my story." He shook his head. "Not so much mine but another's, but she would not mind my telling a portion of her tale. Insofar as it overlaps with mine and thine."
"Then I'd say it was your turn to talk," Diego said.
Victor pulled his hat low over his eyes and sat up straighter. "I may as well as begin by saying that when I say I am unnatural, it is not some metaphor, but a truth. I was not born as man is born but made. I had no babyhood, no childhood; I am as I began, gargantuan and repugnant in appearance. My creator... my father, as it were, gave no thought of what to do with the life he created; for him the interest stopped with his success in imparting the spark of life within me. He ran from me, and I only learned of what he did from the papers contained within the heavy cloak I took to protect myself from the elements. He gave me nothing but life," he chuckled lightly, "such as it is. All else I was forced to learn alone, hidden and by proxy: fire, food, languages, reading."
"All that on your own?" Diego asked.
Victor was silent for a long moment. "I was fortunate at one point to find shelter next to a cottage where a family was teaching another their language, and that is how I managed the majority of my early education." He fell quiet again. "They were not aware of my presence. And when I attempted to make myself known... it ended as all my encounters with humanity did at that time."
"Rejection?"
"Rejection, repulsion, hatred...fear. It seemed nothing I could do would garner any other reaction. Shunned by all I encountered, hatred began to burn in me, especially for the one who created, then abandoned me, and I became the monster the world had already condemned me as, and the innocent suffered, until my creator and I were locked in a struggle of vengeance. Then he died and the weight of my crimes and isolation from all humanity sent me searching for my doom in the icy wastes where last we fought," his voice broke a little. "Obviously I failed. I do not understand what drove me blindly over the ice and snow or how it was when it seemed that it would swallow me in a tomb of eternal cold, that I was found by those who gave me a second chance at life." Victor laughed mirthlessly. "Brock calls it my second birth. Ariadne calls it destiny. I call it a miracle as neither will tell me what led them to me, or why Brock chose me to be his son as Ariadne chose to be his daughter. I deserved not the comfort and yet..."
"You received a gift of grace," Diego said. "Tell me of your new family."
"One-eyed Brock is old and wise. How old, he will not say; his hair and beard are white, his scars are old, yet he moves more like a younger man. He is a master craftsman; greater than Daedalus. There is nothing he cannot create, given time. Ariadne is all fire and warmth, fierce in her devotion to those she chooses to give her loyalty. Hair like a great mane, skin like burnished copper. And she would be a great doctor if the world were not blind to the gifts of women. Her touch is deft, and she also weaves with a great skill. These clothes are the work of her hands. She said that well made clothes make someone appear less an outcast and more... human." He looked down and brushed at his clothes. "She will not be well pleased. At least nothing is torn, though she has taught me how to make simple repairs." There was a quirk in his expression.
Diego smiled. "A skill I've also learned. One I think every man should. After all there are times when there is no handy tailor or seamstress at hand," he said, thinking of all the repairs he'd needed to make to Zorro's costume over the years. But that was neither here nor there, as he recalled what Victor had said earlier mentioning a "her". "So, it is because of... Ariadne that you came here?"
"Yes," Victor said, slowly. "For a dual purpose. First the short answer: when a passing traveler shared his version of the tale of the ghostly Zorro and the monstrous visitors in Los Angeles, she recognized elements of the story as being much as those associated with the ones responsible for the death of her people—a story she would not wish me to tell, beyond that it was predicated on ancient hatreds. And because she could not travel to investigate, she impressed the job upon me; telling me what I should do if I should find the particular pair she sought."
"And the longer answer?" Diego asked.
Victor went silent for so long that Diego wondered if he could or would answer. Then at last, he began with, "Before this second life of mine, I thought I was the only unnatural thing in this world. Now I know that while I am the only one of my kind, I am not the only thing outside the realm of what is considered 'natural.' Brock and Ariadne have shown me that the world of magic and mystery is not simply one of imagination, and it can oft be found side by side with the mundane. Unfortunately..." he broke off again. "I have also learned that I am not the only thing hated by those who cannot abide anything outside their own narrow view of the world."
"What happened?" Diego asked.
"Not that long ago, we met a family, who were considered odd by the people they lived near. And indeed they were hiding an otherness but not a maliciousness. In fact, they gave aid to those who needed it," Victor said. "But then a disaster hit the area, and the people looking for a scapegoat came up with reasons to blame the family for all that had happened, and a mob came in the night to burn them out. We had been preparing to leave the area but saw the flames and went to help."
"And did you?" Diego asked.
"Not enough," Victor said, looking down at his gloved hands. "The parents perished in the flames. We barely got the two children out, and they were grievously wounded. It was a miracle they survived until we got them safely away from that place; that and Ariadne's great skill which could triumph in such rough conditions. She would not let them die."
"And how are they now?"
"Scarred, each lost some part of themselves: the boy, a hand; the girl, a lower leg. And they are orphaned, alone..."
"It seems they are not alone," Diego said. "Not if they are with your family."
"True," Victor said. "Ariadne has embraced them to her heart and will protect them from further harm."
"And you?" Diego asked.
"I have the heavy weight of my guilt weighing down my heart," Victor said. "There was a time in my misery and selfishness when I would have welcomed the scars on those children because it would have made them more like me and thus as dependent upon my companionship as I would be upon theirs.” He looked thoughtfully at his hands as he slowly closed them into fists. “But now their scars only remind me of my failure to prevent their suffering and how unworthy I am to walk this earth." He gave a bitter laugh. "My melancholy is what prompted Ariadne to send me upon this quest. She believed if I found and fought some specific evil, it would renew my purpose. Or perhaps she did not want my mood to poison the children's spirits. If so, she is right. They already have enough to contend with."
"Or perhaps we were meant to meet," Diego said. "For our meeting is as improbable as anything else."
Victor looked at him. "Yes, that is true. You came upon me when I was trapped; you have treated me as a man throughout our long conversation. That, is still a rarity for me and…perhaps a grace I will never deserve."
After a long silence, where Diego contemplated the initial fear that had made him hesitate for a moment before helping Victor, he finally spoke. "Well…isn't that the nature of grace, that's it's undeserved?"
Victor sighed. "Yes. Yes, I suppose it is."
"Look, I don't know the details of your past and I don't need to know and I won't pretend to understand what you've been through or what exactly you need," Diego said. And this man clearly needed something, and it wasn't a confession of Diego's own failings. "What I do know is that all this time I've been talking to a man not a monster." He shifted to face Victor squarely. "You don't need to define yourself by what you have been but by who you want to be. Embrace the life you have now and the family that has found you."
Victor remained silent but nodded in response to Diego's words.
Diego looked over his shoulder at the sun that was rapidly sinking below the horizon. "It's getting late," he said. "My family will get worried if I'm not home soon."
"Indeed. You had better go then."
Diego rose to his feet. "I'm glad to have met you, Victor. I hope to see you again one day under more pleasant circumstances." He held out his hand.
Victor also stood. For a moment, he looked at Diego awkwardly but, at length, he reached out and shook his hand.
"Vaya con Dios, Victor," Diego said.
"And you, Diego." Victor turned to go his own way but stopped and turned back. "And…thank you. Thank you for…saving my life. I…I too hope we will meet again." At those words, Victor hastened away.
Diego watched him shrink into the growing darkness until he could see him no more. Yes. Somehow, I think we will.
The End