New ficbit, Part 1
Sep. 23rd, 2005 02:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wiseheartDaughter of the Night
by Soledad
A “Pathways in the Dark” story
Part 01/B of “The Anarch Chronicles”.
Author’s notes:
This is a direct continuation of Ficbit 1. I divided the story in two parts so that it would be easier to read.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Buenos Aires, 1936
Valeria came to in a quiet, sparsely furnished room that might have belonged to a hospital, based on the general whiteness of it. She was lying in an unknown – and not very comfortable – bed, and at her side a nun was sitting, clad in white as well, and fingering her rosary while silently praying. Nevertheless, she seemed well aware of her surroundings, as she noticed the awakening of her patient at once.
“Seňorita, how do you feel?” she asked gently. She spoke the dialect of the poor population, so this was probably a charitative institution.
“Weak,” Valeria replied tiredly. “I feel weak. What happened to me?”
“You were mugged on the street,” the nun explained. “You were injured, lost a lot of blood and now have a concussion. Fortunately, Seňor Garcia came across the scene and the muggers fled.”
“Seňor… Garcia?” Valeria repeated; the name didn’t ring a bell.
“That would be me,” a deep, unfamiliar voice replied, and a tall, dark man stepped up to her bed. “I’m glad to see you awake.”
“Where am I?” Valeria felt horribly tired, but she needed to know. She might still be in danger from her brother’s thugs.
“This is a hospital for the poor,” the man named Garcia answered. “My… associates in the city patronize it with what little they have. I’ve brought you here because this would be the last place for your brother to look for you.”
His apparent familiarity with her situation surprised Valeria.
“You know who I am? I can’t remember having met you before.”
“We have not,” he said. “I’m not even from here; I’ve just came from Spain to visit some friends. But I asked a few peasants, and one of them recognized you.”
“You’ve put yourself to grave risk by coming to my aid,” Valeria said. “My brother’s arm is long.”
“So is mine,” the man answered calmly. “But the truth is, I’ve simply acted on instinct. And your attackers were a bunch of spineless cowards. They fled like shied-up chicken when met someone stronger than themselves.”
“But why have you done this?” Valeria asked in amazement. “Why help someone you don’t even know? And why are you hiding me still? It’s dangerous for you to get involved.”
“Not really,” the man shrugged. “As I’ve already said, I acted on instinct. As for the rest… Sor Juana, could you leave us alone for a moment?”
The nun frowned – it wasn’t suited to young girls of good houses to remain alone with men, even less so with men they didn’t really know – but stood nevertheless.
“I’ll be on the opposite end of the corridor,” she said warningly, “and the door remains open.”
“Of course,” the man inclined his head respectfully. “I have no hidden agenda. I only want to speak to the seňorita in private… about things that better remain unknown to you. For your own safety, and that of your hospital.”
Sor Juana nodded in understanding and left, leaving the door open, so that she could still watch them out of earshot. She knew all too well that knowledge could be a two-edged sword and ignorance could be a bliss. She had no real desire to learn any secrets that would endanger their important work here.
“Seňorita,” the man named Garcia said when they finally were alone, “I’m telling you a truth that could be dangerous for both of us, but as we fight the same enemy here, I think you need to know it.”
Valeria frowned; this was a strange preamble, but she had the feeling that she could trust the man. After all, he’d saved her life while risking his own in the fight. She couldn’t know, of course, that her instinctive trust had been orchestrated through the faint bound between them, created due to the fact that the vampire had nearly drained her. A moment later, and she’d have either died or become one of the undead herself.
“Go on,” she said warily.
“Have you ever heard of a movement called La Hermandad?” Salvador Garcia asked.
“Who hasn’t?” Valeria replied with a shrug.
Indeed, who hasn’t? These men were well known – and feared among the hacienderos in several South American countries… especially the among the ones like her brother who abused their workers. Manolo often mentioned the members of this movement, calling them anarchistas, who fuelled the riots among the poor, encouraging them to rise against their oppressors and wrestle their freedom from the hands of the rich, if necessary with knives and bullets and bombs. The penniless, exploited workers, especially the Indios, spoke about the anarchistas as if they were God’s gift to them, as the movement even managed to organize some financial support fort heir starving families and a bit of protection for themselves.
“The old stable hands of the hacienda mention it sometimes,” she added, “with their hands held before their mouths. They spoke about these people with respect and hope. As if they were their saviours.”
To her surprise, the man grinned.
“No, they weren’t taking about the Saviour,” he said, “they were talking about me. My name is Salvador, that’s all.”
“You are with La Hermandad?” Valeria asked.
“I’m the one who founded it,” Salvador Garcia replied, “and I’m its leader. I’ve been fighting for the rights of the poor farmers and workers for many years by now; once I used to be one of them. Until the policia caught me and my little brother and literally beat us to death. I survived somehow, thank one of my compadres, but for my brother, it was too late. The sad part is, he wasn’t even one of us.”
“One of La Hermandad?”
“No, I was with the Mano Negra back home, in my beloved Espaňa. That was many years ago. When I was sent to the Americas to support the fight here, we organized La Hermandad to have a network of people and places for our safety.”
“Why have you saved me then?” Valeria asked. “You must see me as your arch enemy. I’m everything you and your people hate and fight against.”
“No,” Salvador said, “your brother, ‘El Diablo’ is whom we hate and fight against. The workers on your hacienda told us that things have been different at your grandfather’s times. They were even better at your father’s times. There is no reason why they couldn’t become better again.”
“So, what do you want from me?” Valeria asked. “You’re protecting me for a reason, aren’t you?”
Salvador nodded. “Once you receive your inheritance, it’ll be in your power to change things on your hacienda. You wouldn’t be the first member of the aristocratia who understand their duty towards the poor people depending on them. There are ways to run a hacienda to the mutual advantage of owners and workers. Your father and grandfather knew this. You could make it work, too… if you are willing.”
“I wouldn’t be averse,” Valeria said carefully. She could still remember happier times, when the workers were content with how things were done; the times of her maternal grandfather and the early years of her father’s ownership. “But I have no experience in business, nor can I do a thing until I’ve turned twenty-one. And that’s still eight months away.”
“I’ve made some research on your family,” Garcia said, not mentioning that most of it had been done by a local Nosferatu information merchant. “Your employees, the ones who’re still in position, are more than capable of running things when they are left alone. And we can provide help, if necessary. We can show the poor that there is a way of coexistence that actually works. Then they’ll be willing to fight for it.”
“You’d want money from me for your purposes, wouldn’t you?” Valeria asked bluntly.
The Anarch leader nodded. “Of course I would. In exchange, I’m offering you the chance to lead a life of your choice. I can help you to get to the United Stated safely, to find a place to live and a pastime – or even work, if that’s what you prefer – that would satisfy your interests. I’ve got a certain… influence in South California. We can work out a detailed treaty with the help of your lawyers, if you want, as soon as you turn twenty-one.”
“You want to become a business partner?” Valeria asked, with a hint of suspicion in her voice.
“I want limited access to your financial sources, in exchange of your freedom and safety,” Salvador Garcia answered. “You set the limits; any steady source of money would be invaluable for the cause.”
Valeria thought about that for a moment, not knowing that the vampire’s mesmerising powers had already made her perceptive for the idea. It sounded reasonable enough. She wasn’t particularly interested in business, although she did feel sorry for the poor workers suffering under Manolo’s heavy hand. She just wanted the money and her freedom. She didn’t really care who would run the business, as long as it was running smoothly.
“Very well,” she said, “but how do you intend to get me safely out of Buenos Aires?”
The Anarch laughed. It made his broad, stern face look at least ten years younger, and Valeria noticed for the first time how warm his dark eyes could be, full of hidden sorrow, but for the moment free of all anger. He was a very attractive man, although not the youngest anymore. She guessed he had to be in his late thirties.
“Actually, you’ve left this morning by ship,” he said, producing a newspaper and unfolding it on Valeria’s bed.
The headline announced in bold letters: “Seňorita Velez leaves for the States” and below that was a short article, describing how the heiress of the huge Velez empire had left Buenos Aires with a friend of her late mother, Russian aristocrat Leonid Barofsky. There was even a photograph about a pretty young woman with a close enough likeness to Valeria, leaving on the arm of an elegantly greying, middle-aged man. They stood on board of the luxury cruiser Aida.
“Who are these people?” Valeria asked, stunned.
“Leonid is an old acquaintance of mine,” Salvador replied. “The girl is someone whom we’ve paid to play your role. “She’ll be waiting for you in Los Angeles. You’ll need some personnel, and she’s very reliable.” In fact, she was Barofsky’s ghoul, but Valeria didn’t need to know that.
“That still doesn’t answer the question how I am going to leave the country unnoticed,” Valeria pointed out.
“I’m working on it,” Salvador replied. “Your false papers will be ready within the week. A friend of mine is arriving tomorrow with news about the safety of possible routes. We’ll decide together which one to take. I understand you have some support in Los Angeles?”
“A law firm my father always worked with,” Valeria replied. “Navital & Waters they are called. They’ll help me to organize some financial background, so that I can find the right place to live for the next eight months.”
“Very well,” Salvador nodded. “You should rest now. We might have to move you later, to a more secure place, just in case. Try to get some sleep as long as you can.”
Valeria smiled tiredly. The thought to go on such a long trip with two practically unknown men didn’t even appear strange to her, due to the Domination of the vampire’s mind. Fortunately for her, she was dealing with a vampire here who had her best interest in mind.
Or what seemed one’s best interests for an Anarch vampire anyway.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
TBC
by Soledad
A “Pathways in the Dark” story
Part 01/B of “The Anarch Chronicles”.
Author’s notes:
This is a direct continuation of Ficbit 1. I divided the story in two parts so that it would be easier to read.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Buenos Aires, 1936
Valeria came to in a quiet, sparsely furnished room that might have belonged to a hospital, based on the general whiteness of it. She was lying in an unknown – and not very comfortable – bed, and at her side a nun was sitting, clad in white as well, and fingering her rosary while silently praying. Nevertheless, she seemed well aware of her surroundings, as she noticed the awakening of her patient at once.
“Seňorita, how do you feel?” she asked gently. She spoke the dialect of the poor population, so this was probably a charitative institution.
“Weak,” Valeria replied tiredly. “I feel weak. What happened to me?”
“You were mugged on the street,” the nun explained. “You were injured, lost a lot of blood and now have a concussion. Fortunately, Seňor Garcia came across the scene and the muggers fled.”
“Seňor… Garcia?” Valeria repeated; the name didn’t ring a bell.
“That would be me,” a deep, unfamiliar voice replied, and a tall, dark man stepped up to her bed. “I’m glad to see you awake.”
“Where am I?” Valeria felt horribly tired, but she needed to know. She might still be in danger from her brother’s thugs.
“This is a hospital for the poor,” the man named Garcia answered. “My… associates in the city patronize it with what little they have. I’ve brought you here because this would be the last place for your brother to look for you.”
His apparent familiarity with her situation surprised Valeria.
“You know who I am? I can’t remember having met you before.”
“We have not,” he said. “I’m not even from here; I’ve just came from Spain to visit some friends. But I asked a few peasants, and one of them recognized you.”
“You’ve put yourself to grave risk by coming to my aid,” Valeria said. “My brother’s arm is long.”
“So is mine,” the man answered calmly. “But the truth is, I’ve simply acted on instinct. And your attackers were a bunch of spineless cowards. They fled like shied-up chicken when met someone stronger than themselves.”
“But why have you done this?” Valeria asked in amazement. “Why help someone you don’t even know? And why are you hiding me still? It’s dangerous for you to get involved.”
“Not really,” the man shrugged. “As I’ve already said, I acted on instinct. As for the rest… Sor Juana, could you leave us alone for a moment?”
The nun frowned – it wasn’t suited to young girls of good houses to remain alone with men, even less so with men they didn’t really know – but stood nevertheless.
“I’ll be on the opposite end of the corridor,” she said warningly, “and the door remains open.”
“Of course,” the man inclined his head respectfully. “I have no hidden agenda. I only want to speak to the seňorita in private… about things that better remain unknown to you. For your own safety, and that of your hospital.”
Sor Juana nodded in understanding and left, leaving the door open, so that she could still watch them out of earshot. She knew all too well that knowledge could be a two-edged sword and ignorance could be a bliss. She had no real desire to learn any secrets that would endanger their important work here.
“Seňorita,” the man named Garcia said when they finally were alone, “I’m telling you a truth that could be dangerous for both of us, but as we fight the same enemy here, I think you need to know it.”
Valeria frowned; this was a strange preamble, but she had the feeling that she could trust the man. After all, he’d saved her life while risking his own in the fight. She couldn’t know, of course, that her instinctive trust had been orchestrated through the faint bound between them, created due to the fact that the vampire had nearly drained her. A moment later, and she’d have either died or become one of the undead herself.
“Go on,” she said warily.
“Have you ever heard of a movement called La Hermandad?” Salvador Garcia asked.
“Who hasn’t?” Valeria replied with a shrug.
Indeed, who hasn’t? These men were well known – and feared among the hacienderos in several South American countries… especially the among the ones like her brother who abused their workers. Manolo often mentioned the members of this movement, calling them anarchistas, who fuelled the riots among the poor, encouraging them to rise against their oppressors and wrestle their freedom from the hands of the rich, if necessary with knives and bullets and bombs. The penniless, exploited workers, especially the Indios, spoke about the anarchistas as if they were God’s gift to them, as the movement even managed to organize some financial support fort heir starving families and a bit of protection for themselves.
“The old stable hands of the hacienda mention it sometimes,” she added, “with their hands held before their mouths. They spoke about these people with respect and hope. As if they were their saviours.”
To her surprise, the man grinned.
“No, they weren’t taking about the Saviour,” he said, “they were talking about me. My name is Salvador, that’s all.”
“You are with La Hermandad?” Valeria asked.
“I’m the one who founded it,” Salvador Garcia replied, “and I’m its leader. I’ve been fighting for the rights of the poor farmers and workers for many years by now; once I used to be one of them. Until the policia caught me and my little brother and literally beat us to death. I survived somehow, thank one of my compadres, but for my brother, it was too late. The sad part is, he wasn’t even one of us.”
“One of La Hermandad?”
“No, I was with the Mano Negra back home, in my beloved Espaňa. That was many years ago. When I was sent to the Americas to support the fight here, we organized La Hermandad to have a network of people and places for our safety.”
“Why have you saved me then?” Valeria asked. “You must see me as your arch enemy. I’m everything you and your people hate and fight against.”
“No,” Salvador said, “your brother, ‘El Diablo’ is whom we hate and fight against. The workers on your hacienda told us that things have been different at your grandfather’s times. They were even better at your father’s times. There is no reason why they couldn’t become better again.”
“So, what do you want from me?” Valeria asked. “You’re protecting me for a reason, aren’t you?”
Salvador nodded. “Once you receive your inheritance, it’ll be in your power to change things on your hacienda. You wouldn’t be the first member of the aristocratia who understand their duty towards the poor people depending on them. There are ways to run a hacienda to the mutual advantage of owners and workers. Your father and grandfather knew this. You could make it work, too… if you are willing.”
“I wouldn’t be averse,” Valeria said carefully. She could still remember happier times, when the workers were content with how things were done; the times of her maternal grandfather and the early years of her father’s ownership. “But I have no experience in business, nor can I do a thing until I’ve turned twenty-one. And that’s still eight months away.”
“I’ve made some research on your family,” Garcia said, not mentioning that most of it had been done by a local Nosferatu information merchant. “Your employees, the ones who’re still in position, are more than capable of running things when they are left alone. And we can provide help, if necessary. We can show the poor that there is a way of coexistence that actually works. Then they’ll be willing to fight for it.”
“You’d want money from me for your purposes, wouldn’t you?” Valeria asked bluntly.
The Anarch leader nodded. “Of course I would. In exchange, I’m offering you the chance to lead a life of your choice. I can help you to get to the United Stated safely, to find a place to live and a pastime – or even work, if that’s what you prefer – that would satisfy your interests. I’ve got a certain… influence in South California. We can work out a detailed treaty with the help of your lawyers, if you want, as soon as you turn twenty-one.”
“You want to become a business partner?” Valeria asked, with a hint of suspicion in her voice.
“I want limited access to your financial sources, in exchange of your freedom and safety,” Salvador Garcia answered. “You set the limits; any steady source of money would be invaluable for the cause.”
Valeria thought about that for a moment, not knowing that the vampire’s mesmerising powers had already made her perceptive for the idea. It sounded reasonable enough. She wasn’t particularly interested in business, although she did feel sorry for the poor workers suffering under Manolo’s heavy hand. She just wanted the money and her freedom. She didn’t really care who would run the business, as long as it was running smoothly.
“Very well,” she said, “but how do you intend to get me safely out of Buenos Aires?”
The Anarch laughed. It made his broad, stern face look at least ten years younger, and Valeria noticed for the first time how warm his dark eyes could be, full of hidden sorrow, but for the moment free of all anger. He was a very attractive man, although not the youngest anymore. She guessed he had to be in his late thirties.
“Actually, you’ve left this morning by ship,” he said, producing a newspaper and unfolding it on Valeria’s bed.
The headline announced in bold letters: “Seňorita Velez leaves for the States” and below that was a short article, describing how the heiress of the huge Velez empire had left Buenos Aires with a friend of her late mother, Russian aristocrat Leonid Barofsky. There was even a photograph about a pretty young woman with a close enough likeness to Valeria, leaving on the arm of an elegantly greying, middle-aged man. They stood on board of the luxury cruiser Aida.
“Who are these people?” Valeria asked, stunned.
“Leonid is an old acquaintance of mine,” Salvador replied. “The girl is someone whom we’ve paid to play your role. “She’ll be waiting for you in Los Angeles. You’ll need some personnel, and she’s very reliable.” In fact, she was Barofsky’s ghoul, but Valeria didn’t need to know that.
“That still doesn’t answer the question how I am going to leave the country unnoticed,” Valeria pointed out.
“I’m working on it,” Salvador replied. “Your false papers will be ready within the week. A friend of mine is arriving tomorrow with news about the safety of possible routes. We’ll decide together which one to take. I understand you have some support in Los Angeles?”
“A law firm my father always worked with,” Valeria replied. “Navital & Waters they are called. They’ll help me to organize some financial background, so that I can find the right place to live for the next eight months.”
“Very well,” Salvador nodded. “You should rest now. We might have to move you later, to a more secure place, just in case. Try to get some sleep as long as you can.”
Valeria smiled tiredly. The thought to go on such a long trip with two practically unknown men didn’t even appear strange to her, due to the Domination of the vampire’s mind. Fortunately for her, she was dealing with a vampire here who had her best interest in mind.
Or what seemed one’s best interests for an Anarch vampire anyway.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
TBC
