The Keeper

by Oz Mari G.

  Her father kept looking at her, assessing her. He was wavering between asking her and waiting for her to open up to him. Half of her wanted him to press her, but her other half knew that his response would remain the same. He would, with a gentle and firm voice, tell her she was too young to know her own mind.

  Her stepmother popped her head in through the door a moment later. “Anza, the ice delivery guy is coming tomorrow morning. Can you handle it while we’re away?” It broke the tension in the air.

  “Yes, Momstie,” she replied, her tone cheerful.

  She didn’t mind the errand. It was something to do in a day full of nothing.

  That night, in one corner of the living room, the male adults were playing cards while the females were engaged in gossip in the kitchen. The younger ones busied themselves with a board game in the breakfast lounge with more passion than could be expected from the game. Her teenage cousins were, like her, occupied with their gadgets.

  Her rambunctious Uncle Heydar, a burly man whose clean-cut look was a complete opposite to his personality, went around the room singing in a deep baritone. The lyrics annoyed the women, but it entertained the young ones.

  Her family filled the house with chatter, laughter, and activities. They kept each other entertained with their own antics and stories. Her family was content being themselves. They were complete.

  It was beyond her to pretend to be upbeat. She kept to herself, with her headphones on. Music floated in her ears and drowned the hum of noise surrounding her. It helped as everyone was in full volume.

  She sat at the corner chair and put up a pretence of chatting with her friends on the phone, looking at social media posts, scrolling past photos and articles, and watching videos. She was the picture of engrossed.

  In reality, she was drowning in misery.

  “You need not feel like an outsider, Anz. Don’t set yourself apart. Choose to belong,” Xandrei murmured on her forehead as he dropped an affectionate kiss on it. He left her to her own company and proceeded to his room.

  His words made her sit up. It drove the clouds of melancholy from her mind. It sparked an idea of how she could end her inner turmoil.

  Choose to belong. Of course!

  I have always had a choice, but I never thought about taking the step to claim it.

  And I might just have the perfect opportunity tomorrow.

  Then, she took in her first freeing breath in months.

  Early the following day, the sun was just rising, but their kitchen was already abuzz with activities. Every single one of her family members was preparing for their day out. They would spend the better part of it running in the woods in their Animus, hunting for deer, wild boar, or whatever took their fancy.

  She would have preferred to stay in bed, to pretend that she was still asleep, so she wouldn’t have to see them off. She didn’t want to be discouraged from her plan. A knock on her door forced her to get up, to open it and engage with whoever was outside.

  It was Xandrei.

  “Your mom is calling for you. I think she wants to leave a few instructions.”

  She knew he didn’t miss the signs that she barely slept, but was wise enough to keep his opinion to himself. Her cousin was the soul of diplomacy and tact.

  She followed him out to the living room. Everyone was waiting and raring to go. Each one wore a tracksuit and a snapped-on bag strapped diagonally around one shoulder. The bag would keep their clothes and shoes while they were in their animal form, so it would be within easy reach when they’d return to their human forms.

  “Anza, the payment for the ice is on the kitchen table. Have them put the twelve bags of ice cubes in the big freezer and the big block in the smaller one,” her stepmother said.

  “Yes, Momstie,” she said.

  Her heart had been picking up its beat as the seconds bled away. A plan had crystallised in her head last night, and being left alone was crucial to its execution. She noticed Xandrei had hung back. He didn’t seem ready to leave like the rest. He could ruin her plan or remove her time advantage if he stayed.

  “Are you not running out with everyone?” she asked.

  “Are you okay being alone here, Anza?” He ignored her question, a frown on his face. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.”

  “Oh, don't be silly,” she said. She pushed him toward the rest. “I’ll be fine.” She added a lilt in her tone to reassure him.

  “No, truly, Anz. I don’t mind staying in today,” he said.

  He stared at her, trying to assess her sincerity. But she heard the reluctance in his voice. Xandrei loved running in the woods in his Animus since he never got to do it in the city.

  “No, I won't let you pass up this chance to unleash your Animus. Don't worry. I’m okay,” she insisted.

  “Are you sure?” Xandrei’s uncertainty was fading.

  “Yes,” she said, her tone emphatic. “I’ll lock up behind you, so I’ll be safe. Find me some wild guavas and we’re even.” She offered him her most reassuring smile. “Go and take off the proverbial socks.”

  He grinned at the quip, a touch of relief on his face. He dropped a kiss on her forehead, snapped on his own leather bag under his right arm and around his left shoulder, then headed out after the others.

  Soon, everyone ran full tilt to the woods. They disappeared behind the thick cover of trees, their shouts of goodbye fading. She rushed to Xandrei's room to get his backpack. She would borrow it without his permission, as it was much better for travelling than her own. It would keep her hands free.

  She found it on the chair by the bed, opened but still full. Her cousin, like herself, didn’t bother to unpack. She dumped his stuff into a drawer in his wardrobe and slid it shut. A quick search of the many pockets of the bag ensured that she had taken out everything that belonged to him.

  She took the backpack into her room and loaded the contents of her own bag into it: extra jeans, two t-shirts, a bath and face towel, toiletries. As an afterthought, she took one of Xandrei’s t-shirts from his wardrobe. She would use that as her nightclothes, as she didn’t bring her own during this trip. She was in a hurry to finish this before the iceman arrived. With house keys in hand, she took the backpack to the kitchen to wait for the ice delivery.

  She had enough time to write her parents two notes. The longer one explained her plan. That should lessen their worry. But she placed it in her father’s wallet, where he wouldn’t find it as soon as they had returned.

  She needed as much time as she could get to cover more distance before they looked for her. Her second, shorter note was a decoy—it said she went to the nearby creek to take some photos. This one she left on the kitchen table, propped against the coffee maker.

  She had just finished having breakfast when she heard the approaching truck. Her heart pounded like a giant woodpecker. She stuffed the two water bottles and the sandwiches she packed into a plastic container into her bag.

  Ten minutes later, the ice was loaded and stored in the freezer. She paid the men and asked them for a ride to the city. She told them she needed to buy something, and the old driver obliged. When asked how she was going to come back, she told them her father was going to pick her up.

  With the house locked up and a last look around, she hurried out and got into the front with the driver and his assistant for a ride to the city. She wanted to cry, but held herself in check. She had chosen her path, and she needed to follow it. This was where she belonged—with the humans.

  And she needed to learn to live as they do.

  It surprised Veren when he picked up his phone to find it was Edrigu calling him. He just got home from the Iztari office. There must have been something he had forgotten to do.

  “Hello, Sir?”

  “Veren, can you come back to the office? I have a case for you.” Edrigu's voice was even, but there was a sense of urgency in it.

  “Yes, Sir. I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he replied. He grabbed the backpack he had dropped on
his bed just a minute ago.

  Sixteen minutes later, he walked back into Edrigu's office. He was on a video call with a worried-looking gentleman.

  “Take a seat, Veren,” Edrigu said, then turned back to the gentleman on the screen. “Manuu, this is Veren. I think he is the perfect person to find your daughter. As we agreed, we will have more success in getting to her and convincing her to come back home if she doesn’t feel threatened by the Iztaris.”

  The man on the screen looked at him closely. He seemed unconvinced. “He looks so young, Drig.”

  “Veren is twenty-three, well-trained, capable, and he has my complete trust, Manuu. The office will use both approaches so we can recover her in the quickest time possible. But I think Veren will be more successful at this,” Edrigu said. “I will send a second team to cover other areas.”

  Edrigu’s trust and open endorsement warmed his heart. But Veren kept his face impassive, his posture erect. He listened and kept all questions to himself. He wanted to receive the full instruction from his mentor before he asked them.

  “Okay, I trust your judgment. You know best how to do this,” Manuu said, his fatherly concern palpable. “But please hurry, Drig. She's only sixteen and an Erdia. She cannot protect herself.”

  “Don't worry, Manuu. We will get her back. She cannot have gotten that far. Now, send me a copy of her letter to you,” Edrigu said. The man nodded and hung up.

  Edrigu turned to him. “As you heard, I’m assigning you to this case. Manuu is a good friend of my father-in-law, and his daughter, an Erdia, ran away. We need to find her ASAP.”

  Veren nodded. “She ran away with her boyfriend?” he asked. Such cases were common.

  Edrigu shook his head. “No, Manuu does not think so. According to him, Anza has been despondent for the past few months. She didn’t seem to want to go in Transit. Her cousin said that she was feeling like she doesn’t belong with them. She is the only Erdia in their closely knit family.” Edrigu pushed a copy of the printed picture of the missing girl to him.

  He picked up the photo and inspected her image. She was pretty. Long black hair, enormous eyes, innocent-looking face. Almost no makeup. Slim and petite. Around five foot three, at most. She looked younger than her sixteen years suggested.

  Could this be an old photo?

  She might look different now. Most sixteen year-olds he had met looked far older than their age because of how they dressed and all the makeup they would wear.

  “Is the picture recent, Sir?”

  “Yes, that was taken a month ago, on her sixteenth birthday,” Edrigu replied. He printed the attachment that he’d just received from the email. It was the letter from the runaway girl to her father.

  Edrigu read it aloud.

  “Dear Daddy, please do not be angry. Do not worry. I went to live with the humankind where I belong. I love you and Momstie with all my heart, but I am not like you and the rest of the family. Time will separate us anyway since I do not have your long lives. Let me establish a root here this early. Allow me to find a family that will be like me, mortal and human, while I have the time to do so. This is not forever. When you leave for your Transit, keep our post office box open. Send me a letter there so I know where I can get in touch with you. I will write to you to let you know how I am doing, that I am well. I love you and you will always be in my heart, Anza.”

  The antics of the runaway girl annoyed Veren. It was too bratty of her to leave her family on a whim, just because she was feeling insecure about being an Erdia.

  To make her parents worry like that was just petty and inconsiderate. This girl did not know how it was to be an orphan, to be at the mercy of other people’s generosity and kindness. She had no idea what it meant to be truly alone.

  “How can she be the only Erdia in her family, Sir? Her mother should be like her, at least, right?” he asked.

  Edrigu shook his head. “No. Her biological mother was human and died of complications during childbirth. She was referring to her stepmother, an Aswang who married her father when she was three.”

  “Okay. So, what do you want me to do, Sir? From what I understood, you want me to find her. Why me and not the Iztaris?”

  He wanted to get the full picture, the objectives for this case, and what Edrigu expected him to achieve.

  “The simple aim is to find her and bring her back. I believe she could relate to you better than my other Iztaris because Anza is closer to your age. We don’t know for how long she has planned this. Her father said she's smart and organised, just a tad emotional. No doubt because she’s still a teenager,” Edrigu speculated. “So, if she had planned this well, she would be harder to find. She would factor in our presence and the possibility that the Iztaris will try to recover her. She might have prepared for that.” His brows knitted in concentration.

  “So, does it mean that when I find her, I must bring her back without telling her the Iztari office sent me?” he asked.

  Edrigu smiled. “Without telling her that an Iztari found her.”

  His eyes widened with disbelief in what he heard, “Iztari? Am I one now?”

  Edrigu's smile widened. “Yes, this is your first official case. You are the youngest Iztari in the history of this office.”

  “And if I don't find her? If I fail to bring her back?” He still couldn’t believe it.

  “Don't say that. And you won't fail. But even if you do, the outcome will not affect your appointment. When you return, you will begin your Iztari fight training. Welcome to the team.” Edrigu held out his hand to shake his.

  He clasped it tight. In his gratitude, he shook his mentor’s hand with vigour. “I will not let you down, Sir,” he said, too excited to say more.

  Edrigu laughed. “I’m convinced you won't. So off you go. I gave you access to her file. Learn about her tonight, and you will be off to the area where she was last seen—Tuguegarao City. From there, you will figure out where she could have gone to hide.”

  “Okay, thank you, Sir. I appreciate this opportunity,” he said, giddy and fired up at the same time.

  With a quick Iztari salute, Veren left the office. He had to stop himself from jumping with joy. His blood was afire with excitement, ready to begin the preparation for the case.

  He was confident he would find her and bring her home no matter what. Even if he had to sedate her the whole way back.

  3 A New Mission

  Veren sat in a local coffee shop in Tuguegarao City. He didn’t expect it to be so dense with low-rise buildings and people. The streets were typical of small cities: tight four lanes of concrete with almost no sidewalk. Old homes made of wood and stone and semi-new buildings made of glass and cement stood side by side along the road. Cars, jeepneys, and tricycles roamed the roads in a noisy parade, but there wasn’t much traffic. Their pace was slow, but steady.

  He was waiting for the man who delivered ice to the household of Anza Soledad, the last person who saw her. According to Manuu Soledad, the man gave Anza a ride to the city and dropped her off across the street. Then, he drove away. Still, Veren wanted to interview the man himself to see if he could pick more clues that the Soledads missed.

  While he waited, he reviewed the digital file of his subject, everything about her on record and whatever else he had learned from her family. Aetheranza Soledad, or Anza, as her parents Manuu and Leire Soledad called her.

  Interesting name.

  If there was one dead giveaway for an Aswang parentage, it was their name. Their kind had a penchant for very ancient and unusual names for their children.

  He was glad that his target had social media. As an Erdia, she had an advantage over Aswangs like himself—their Tribunal allowed her the leeway to create a social media account, for as long as there was no exposure of her Aswang relatives in it.

  The photos of her showed a well-dressed young girl, fashionable even. Her social media was as extensive as any average human teenager. She filled it with pictures of her travels, the books she read, movies sh
e watched, places she dined in. There were brief clips of her singing songs she wrote herself. Her voice was sweet and clear, almost angelic.

  The contents of her pages were engaging. She could easily be a popular influencer, if not for one specific thing—she did not have followers. It was like she designed her social media to be a journal; it was private and exclusive to herself. A record of the moments of her life, to be reviewed later in old age.

  That struck a chord in him.

  Her family said that she was good at school. She was passionate and strong-willed, but otherwise a dutiful daughter. Her father and stepmother gave him differing opinions on her personality.

  According to Manuu Soledad, she was a book-loving, introverted girl. Reserved, observant, and content to be by herself.

  Her stepmother disagreed—she claimed Anza loved poetry and music, but she craved affection and social interaction. It would seem her stepmother was correct in that aspect.

  He thought about the other information provided to him by her family. He knew she carried little, as she came to the lodge with a small bag. And she borrowed her cousin’s backpack. This meant that more than likely, she saw an opportunity to leave, that this was impulsive rather than a pre-planned action.

  “Mr. Albareda?”

  An older man stood by his table. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, with sun-browned skin and thinning hair. He smelled of the sun, sweat and a tinge of coolant. The man had one arm darker than the other, which told Veren that he drove with the said arm propped on the window of the truck.

  He nodded in acknowledgement, “Mang Andong?”

  Veren stood up and offered his hand to the man, who shook it after a moment of hesitation. The older man’s grip was limp and weak; the hand was dusty.

  Mang Andong took the seat he offered, and after their order of coffee arrived, the man asked him, “What can I do for you, Mr. Albareda?”