by Oz Mari G.
To have someone close to her age, like her cousin Xandrei, who was so fond of her, would make the process easier on his beloved daughter. She had been quiet and withdrawn for the past few months, especially since the day he did not permit her to attend her school fair. He knew then that she was missing the company of young people.
As his car passed along the coastal road, he thought of the house that he bought in Auckland Bay. His Anza would love it. It offered plenty of photo-worthy scenes. His daughter’s poetic soul would appreciate the scenery and the view.
At least, Anza would not have to get used to a new name and identity. He kept their current one. Next year, after Anza finished Year 12, they would fly to their new Gentem, to start their Transit.
The whole of New Zealand was picturesque. No doubt Anza would enjoy taking photos and writing songs in their new home country.
2 Away from Home
Veren slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. They had called him to the Iztari head office for a quick briefing. He was planning to take his bag home first, but it was no hardship to pass by the office before going home.
They instructed him to go straight to the office of the Chief Iztari, which was on the third floor. He walked into his mentor’s corner office with a thrill of anticipation.
Edrigu Orzabal was waiting for him, a smile of satisfaction on his face. Edrigu gave him a tight hug and a thump on the back.
“Congratulations, Veren! Papa told me you graduated top of your class,” Edrigu said.
“Thank you, Sir! It was the least I can do,” he replied.
He couldn’t help but to grin back. It flattered him that his achievement pleased his mentor and Don Lorenzo Ibarra, his sponsor. He thought he owed it to them to do well. They were his only family in this world.
“So, how long do you have before they give you your first deployment?” Edrigu asked.
“I don't know, but we have about a month-long break before we report back to camp for more training,” he replied.
“Okay. What do you plan to do with your month?”
“Can I spend it here at the office?” He was hopeful Edrigu would say yes.
“You do not have to. You're allowed to take a break, you know,” Edrigu said. He got up and walked to the corner of his office, where a small bar was installed. He pulled out two bottles of cold beer and handed him one.
This surprised him. He didn’t realise they could drink in the Iztari office. He hesitated.
Edrigu chuckled. “It's allowed during special occasions, and today qualifies,” he said in a manner of explanation.
“Thank you, Sir.” He accepted the beer.
They clinked their bottles together and toasted to his graduation from the Military Academy. They had spent few companionable moments together.
Veren’s heart swelled as he gazed at his mentor, and around the room they were in. The entire building felt like home to him since the first time he stepped into the premises sixteen years ago.
“I prefer to spend my summer break here,” Veren said after a moment. “I've always wanted to become an Iztari. So, if it’s okay with you, Sir, I would love to do this.”
Edrigu looked at him, his expression paternal. At least Veren would like to think that was how a father would look at a son—indulgent, patient, and caring. His mentor also seemed to read deeper into him than he cared to think about himself, much less reveal to anyone. Only self-discipline stopped him from looking away.
“Don't you want to spend your summer doing carefree things, like being with people your age, partying, meeting young women, getting a girlfriend, and all those sorts of things?” Edrigu asked. “The opportunities to do that once your work begins will be slim.”
“No, Sir. I've spent all my life with people my age. I’m not interested in parties, and while I don’t mind meeting girls for a laugh or two, I think it would be unfair to any potential girlfriend of mine to be in a relationship with a man like me, who has no plans of getting serious,” he said, and he meant it.
“Okay, if that’s what you prefer,” Edrigu said, then nodded. “I will train you myself. Come here in the morning at eight a.m. For now, go home and rest. You deserve it.” His mentor patted him on the shoulder and gave him a shove toward the door.
“Thank you, Sir. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, giving Edrigu an Iztari salute. He took his leave, his duffel bag slung over his shoulders once more.
Edrigu watched his protege walk out. It was a pity the boy was too young for his granddaughter, Yuana, and that she was already deeply involved with a human. Otherwise, he would set them up. Veren was the type of man that any grandfather would want their granddaughter to meet. Smart, intelligent, driven, and with his heart in the right place.
And as he was an Aswang, everything would be easier for his granddaughter.
One year later.
Anza wasn’t looking forward to today’s itinerary. Her father and stepmother, the entire extended family, would go on their quarterly holiday to their mountain lodge. It would be a very long drive, and she had nothing to be excited about for when they would get to their destination.
They would leave her alone in the cabin when they all went out, giving vent to their natural inclination to transform and be themselves.
She couldn’t take part in the activities they all looked forward to, which were all geared towards a demonstration of supernatural skills that she didn’t have: super strength, super speed, super senses, and shape-shifting. She was the only one in their midst, an Erdia, a half-Aswang who shared their bloodline, but none of their powers.
The only thing of value she had for her father's kind was that her viscera could power them better than a human’s. At times, she fantasised about incidents where they would need her to give them her liver to save their lives.
But the reality was, the scenario would never happen, and if it did, her father would never allow it.
She was her father’s princess, and he treated her like one to a fault. Her parents loved her, and that blinded them to the fact that she was not like them. They treated her like a Viscerebus, and raised her to follow the laws and the codes of their world, including the Veil of Secrecy.
When they went for their Transit, they would expect her to go with them. They would have to move to an unfamiliar country where no one knew who they were. It would be a complete severing of connection with any humans from their previous life.
They seemed to have forgotten the fact that she was as human as her late mother and most of the people in her school. She would age like the humans. And eventually, she would look older than her parents, and she would die long before her parents were halfway through their lifetime.
In the meantime, she would live the Viscerebus life. With no permanent roots, with no longtime friendships or relationships with any non-Viscerebus.
She sighed and got into the car beside her Momstie. She leaned back and closed her eyes, the plush leather comforting, the floral scent of the air freshener familiar. Her parents chatted quietly about the Transit. That suited her. She was not in the mood for conversation.
It would be a few hours before they arrived at their destination. A convoy of their families’ cars followed theirs. Memories of how she felt as she listened to her classmates talk about going to the movies during the weekend, and of their sleepover tonight, were still fresh. The piercing sense of envy and longing hurt. They invited her, but she had to decline. Her father never allowed her to hang out with her human classmates.
She understood her father's reasoning, always followed his dictates, never doubted that he only meant well, and she used to agree with him. She wasn’t so sure anymore.
Four hours later, their car entered the gated compound of their mountain lodge. A thick growth of trees surrounded the property like a wall closing in. The sounds of the forest—the crickets, the birds, the wind that rustled the leaves—were unusually loud. Anza found the familiar fragrance of the wilderness cloying. Everything about it made her uncom
fortable. It highlighted the feeling that she didn’t want to be here.
Her room in the lodge was unchanged. The caretakers had cleaned it, as expected. The bed and the linens were fresh. They had aired it, for it did not have the musty smell of a room long unused. They would have done all this within a day. Their Erdia caretakers lived in the lodge year-round and went on holiday during their visits, leaving them to their privacy whenever they’d come. It was a neat arrangement her family preferred.
With a deep sigh, she looked around her room, her sight landing on her bag. She couldn’t be bothered to unpack, so she left it alone. There was nothing much in it, anyway, just the essentials for a three-day break.
She could hear the cacophony of her family outside. They were all in high spirits. Her step-uncle's booming voice dominated as he said something funny. A chorus of laughter followed it. Momstie would be in the kitchen now, supervising the supplies they brought for the weekend - the food, the wine, and everything they would need to spend a memorable family event.
Like before. Like always.
An unwelcome knock pounded on her door. She trudged towards it. It was her cousin, or more correctly, her step-cousin, Xandrei.
“Anz, we’ll set up the barbecue outside. Would you like to join us?” The smile on his face was wide and cajoling.
She nodded and followed him out to the verandah.
Xandrei looked down at her, one arm rested against the door as he regarded her. Despite the two-year gap between them and the difference in interests, they were close. Or, as close as she allowed herself to be with him. Xandrei was always attentive to her. He had a depth to him that most people would never know. They bonded over their common love for poetry, which seemed incongruous as Xandrei looked every bit the jock.
And they were both unhappy with their Viscerebus trait. In her case, the lack of it. For Xandrei, he found his inability to use his full strength and speed in the sports that he loved, frustrating. There was nothing he could do, because it would violate the Veil of Secrecy if he did.
Xandrei compared it to fighting one-handed: it was fun in the beginning, but it became less and less so. Their shared exasperation on this impediment was another reason they had gotten closer in the last five years.
The grill sat on the uncovered portion of the long verandah that wrapped around the lodge. Its position allowed the smoke to waft out into the air once they started cooking. Beside it was a small table laden with raw steaks, marinated chicken breasts and drumsticks, prawns on skewers, corn on the cobs, pineapples, plantains, and pre-baked potatoes wrapped in foil, all ready for the grilling.
Xandrei fired up the grill, while Anza hung back and waited for it to heat. She could see his surreptitious glances. He seemed to sense her disquiet, but he would not ask her directly. He would wait for her to open up. That was Xandrei’s way.
He may have to wait for a long time, though, because she didn’t know what was wrong with herself, or the source of her unhappiness and dissatisfaction. Her heart was heavy with a combination of grief and anger, a sense of injustice that grew bigger every day.
She was like a keg of gunpowder awaiting contact with a lit fuse that was crawling ever closer.
Anza watched as her cousins horsed around in the gated backyard of their lodge. The ancient trees that surrounded the area seemed bigger and lusher. It added security to the walls that fenced their property. Laughter came louder as the older ones teased the younger ones to the point of annoyance. Immature tempers flared and her younger cousins shifted into their Animus out of frustration.
Her fourteen-year-old cousin, a rascal named Caleb, had been making fun of his sister’s crush with Caleb’s human friend. The twelve-year-old got so fed up with the antics of her older brother that she, Shelagh, transformed into a hyena. She snarled, growled, and snapped at her older brother. The elders laughed it off. However, their father intervened when Shelagh clamped her jaws on Caleb's calf muscle. He cried out in pain, unable to shake her off.
“Enough, Caleb! Shelagh, stop! You're drawing blood!”
Her uncle's stern voice arrested Shelagh's fury. She let go of her brother's leg and shifted back into her human form. She was teary-eyed out of wrath and frustration. Her brother's blood rimmed her lips.
Caleb glared at his sister. His hand pressed against the bleeding calf muscle that was almost torn off. The bite looked deep, but it would take less than an hour to heal. Her uncle gave Caleb a handkerchief to bind the wound. Shelagh stood with a sullen pout over her brother as she wiped her mouth on the neckline of her pink T-shirt dress and left a streak of a bloodstain on it. Her mother shrieked in exasperation. Blood was hard to remove from cotton fabric.
It’s funny that what this household considers commonplace is probably horrific to a human.
Tomorrow, her family would venture into the woods, then shape-shift into a land-based predatory animal to hunt or merely to run around. And by habit, they would leave her alone in the house. It was like being the permanent designated driver when your family and friends went out to get wasted. She was the only one sober, and not by choice.
In the past, she didn’t mind. The solitude afforded her time to write songs or poetry, read a book, or take photos. This time, the prospect of being left behind was distressing. She felt… excluded.
She didn’t realise the pasted smile on her face had faltered and that she was fidgeting, until Xandrei nudged her side with his elbow.
“Should I hunt him down, Anza?” Xandrei asked, his expression calm. But his eyes bored into hers.
“Who?” She looked up at him, startled.
“Whoever it was who put such a grim frown on your face,” he said. Xandrei touched her forehead and stroked the lines away.
“No one did this to me. I was just ... preoccupied.”
She walked away and sat in one of the six rattan chairs that lined the verandah. She didn’t want to talk about her restlessness, but Xandrei followed and sat beside her.
“Something is bothering you. And if I would hazard a guess, it’s your ‘otherness,’ as you call it. You’re back to thinking you’re out of place, again,” he said, his eyes on her intently.
The truth in his words stabbed at her heart. He read her right. Her discontent had bubbled over the surface. The desire to understand became overwhelming. “How does it feel, Xandrei?”
“Feel what?” Xandrei looked at her, a frown on his forehead.
“To shape-shift. But more to the point, why do you want to?”
It took Xandrei a long moment to respond. His eyes narrowed as he examined his own thoughts. “It’s hard to articulate, Anz, but it’s like a growing constriction. At first, you hardly notice it, but as the days go, you become uncomfortably trapped, until it becomes a driving need. So, when opportunities to let loose are available, we view it with full enthusiasm.”
“Like removing your socks at the end of a long, hot day?” Her lame attempt at analogy made him laugh.
“Yes, actually.” Xandrei was still laughing and shaking his head, “It’s a very precise analogy, if I may say so.”
In a strange way, she could relate to what he described. It was how she felt exactly—trapped. And she wanted to be free. Being unable to do so was driving her to the point of rebellion. Xandrei could remove his proverbial socks, while she could not.
“So, what’s bothering you, Anza?” Xandrei’s question was serious this time.
“I'm just tired, Xandrei.” She avoided his gaze and picked on the loose rattan weave on the chair instead.
“Tired of being the only Erdia in a family of Aswangs?”
“I guess ...” It was the closest to admission she could give to him.
To reveal more might give him an idea of what had been brewing in her mind for months now. She wasn’t ready to have anyone find out about it, as her plans had not crystallised yet.
Her reticence should have made it clear to Xandrei she was not ready to discuss what was in her heart, but he continued to stare at
her with watchful intensity. Her cousin was worried. She patted his hand in reassurance, got up, and went inside to help her stepmother in the kitchen. She needed to go somewhere in which she wouldn’t be the discussion or the focus of intense scrutiny.
Her Momstie was preparing the family’s sustenance for tonight. It was a raw human liver. Her father kept her stepmother company and was gazing at her with soft, loving eyes. She took a seat beside her father, and together they watched Momstie portion the liver in neat, even slices.
Everyone would have a slice, except her. She had seen her parents and her extended family eat raw human viscera countless times, and she was used to the scene. It never bothered her before, but now, her ‘otherness’ intensified.
She absentmindedly picked up a napkin, twisted it into a thin strip, and fed it into the flame of the lighted cinnamon candle. The napkin burned in slow degrees; its cinnamon scent took on a burnt smell. The rising smoke mesmerised her and took her out of her own mind. It calmed the chaos in her. The curling smoke unravelled into nothingness. She wished the path to her decision would solidify in contrast.
On impulse, her stepmother’s soft hands reached out and stopped her. Momstie never liked this habit. She considered it a nervous tick. Her father didn’t mind it. He looked at it as a self-soothing habit. Her dad intuitively connected her tendency to set little things alight when she needed to sort out something in her mind.
With a sigh, she dropped the half-burned material at the base of the candle holder.
“Are you okay, Anza?” Her father’s gaze was intent. “You’re kindling again.”
She nodded and said, “I’m okay, Dad. Just bored.” She smiled at them both. She didn’t want them to probe. Her stepmother had always associated smiles with a positive frame of mind. Hopefully, her Momstie could influence her father. But even she seemed unconvinced.
The voices of their family floated into the kitchen. Everyone was back and had congregated in the living room. It was sustenance time. Her Momstie walked off with the bowl of the human liver to where the family waited.