The Keeper

by Oz Mari G.

  She took a deep breath and decided to trust him. She offered her hand, and they shook on it.

  “When do we start?” she asked.

  “Today is good,” he said. There was a crooked smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.

  “No, it's almost the end of the day. You won't get your days’ worth. Why don't we officially start tomorrow?”

  “Well, I’m already enjoying your company now, so I'd be the one taking advantage of you if we don’t count today,” he said.

  “Take today as an activity between friends. It costs you nothing.” It was the least that she could give him.

  “So, can we spend dinner as friends as well?” he asked.

  She felt the full blast of his charm, and a frisson of thrill went through her. In her panic, she nodded. Her throat was a little constricted for words.

  Veren felt pleased with himself. He secured Anza's safety and gained her trust. Now, he found a way to get to know her and discover the best way to convince her to go back home to her parents.

  He debated whether he should tell her father that he had located Anza. But Manuu Soledad might preempt his plans and ruin his chance of fulfilling his mission in full. However, he would have to say something to Mr. Soledad later, or the man might just fly in and show up unannounced. He settled on sending him a text message to inform him that he was still looking for her. He got lucky when he chanced upon her so quickly—he would take advantage of that.

  Edrigu Orzabal was a different matter. He didn’t want to lie to his mentor. Edrigu knew he was flying to Basco. His mentor would assume that he was still looking for her today, and if he didn’t call, Edrigu would assume there was nothing yet to report. Veren had a few hours before he needed to call him.

  For now, he had to shower and change. He would meet Anza at six p.m., which gave him two hours to prepare for eventualities. While he had consumed enough human viscera to last him a week, it didn’t hurt to cover all the bases. He must convince Anza before the week was out, because he would need to be back on the mainland to get his sustenance.

  He sat down with his tablet to record the details of the day, his observations and what he learned about her so far. Anza was not what he expected. He assumed she would be bratty, and half-expected her to give up and go home before he could find her.

  It was the foremost reason he was in a hurry to beat her to it. To find her was not enough of an accomplishment. He wanted to be instrumental to her decision to go home, so there would be no doubt he did his job to its fullest extent. He wanted to earn the resolution of the case, rather than get it resolved by default.

  Based on what he saw from her yesterday, before he realised it was her, he thought she had grit and the fighting spirit to continue. This girl would not give up, and if he hadn’t been lucky yesterday to have been in the right place at the right time, he probably would have run out of time looking for her.

  Anza was still in a daze. She was breathless with the idea of having dinner with Veren. Her pulse hadn’t slowed down even after she showered on autopilot. She wasn’t even sure if she shampooed her hair. She relied on the texture of her tresses as she wriggled her fingers through, drying them upside down under the blast of the electric fan.

  No boy, human or Aswang, had ever expressed this much interest in her before. And Veren was no longer a boy. She was unused to the attention shown to her by an attractive man, and it created this heady emotion.

  Come to think of it, it’s similar, although a little more intense than what I feel for Xandrei.

  It was different because Veren was a stranger. He was just a decent guy who was sorry for her, and maybe she reminded him of his sister.

  I don’t even know if he has a sister.

  With a sigh, she straightened up and flipped her hair back. The electric fan had dried it enough. The method gave her hair the body she wanted. She brushed it back into place, then secured the front pieces behind her head with a barrette. The baby hairs that grew around her face refused to be tamed without the aid of hairspray, so she gave up. This would have to do.

  She couldn’t behave around Veren like her giggly classmates whenever they saw a boy. It would be humiliating. She would embarrass him and make their daily interactions awkward.

  I must regard him as an older brother.

  She would treat him like how she treated her cousin Xandrei, since there was nothing different in how Veren treated her from how her cousin did.

  She spent the next couple of hours on an emotional seesaw between diverting herself from getting too excited about the dinner to imagining different scenarios, then chastising herself.

  After a week, Veren could leave Basco, and she would have to focus on her goal to be independent. His friendship, the first-ever outside of her limited sphere, one formed naturally, was a good beginning to her new life. Hopefully, the memories that would come out of it would be worth remembering for the years to come.

  She felt human already.

  Veren was already waiting in the lobby when she arrived. It surprised her because she had left her room early. She was expecting to wait for him. He waved at her from the distance. A wide, delighted smile was on his face. He had changed into faded grey jeans and a dark blue T-shirt under a grey hoodie that was unzipped at the front. He looked carefree and young.

  “Hungry?” he asked as she came closer.

  She nodded in response. It was the best explanation for her being early. And it also explained why he was earlier than her. He must have been hungry, too.

  He took her hand and pulled her with him. Like an older brother pulling his younger sister along. He walked her to a motorcycle parked at the side of the entrance and handed her a helmet.

  She hesitated, unable to hide a slight alarm at the idea. A jolt of uncertainty struck her heart. She had never ridden a motorcycle before. It looked dangerous. She met Veren’s gaze. The helmet was still in his hand as he waited for her to accept it. His happy expression was both encouraging and challenging.

  Take a chance, Anza. It’s just a motorbike ride.

  With a deep breath, she took the helmet and put it on under Veren’s approving gaze. He fastened the strap under her chin. Her sense of bravery kicked up a notch, and the anticipation of the motorbike ride replaced some of her fears.

  As she straddled the bike behind him, she didn’t know where to attribute the added thrill that coursed through her, whether it was from the upcoming ride or the unfamiliar sensation of being pressed close to a male body—one that belonged to someone not related to her.

  “Hold tight, Anza. And relax. Just lean on me. Don’t worry, I’m an expert at motorbikes. I won’t let you fall,” Veren said over his shoulder.

  He must have noticed my death grip around his middle.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  With a small jolt, they zoomed into the road towards the mystery destination of their dinner. She forgot to ask him where they were going.

  Five minutes into the ride, she relaxed. Veren did not lie: he was an experienced rider. After the initial starting jolt, the drive smoothened into a fluid motion. The hum of the engine became noticeable to her, together with the feel of Veren’s firm and warm back.

  It was a brief ride, but with the newness of the experience, it felt drawn out yet fleeting. The surrounding sights went past in a blur of old houses, native vegetation, and people. Her focus was on the sensations rather than the view.

  When they reached their destination, it came as a surprise. She was expecting a simple neighbourhood eatery. Instead, the place looked like a must-go for tourists.

  Perched atop a hill, the restaurant offered a stunning view of Vayang Rolling Hills. In the waning light, she could see the building was made of packed earth, bamboo, and wood. It had the thatched roof characteristic of the native Ivatan houses in the area. The flowering plants and green hedges that surrounded the restaurant compound gave it a homey yet magical quality.

  The sea breeze that rol
led from the ocean cooled the place. There was a small blackboard by the entrance that had the specials for the day: grilled flying fish served on Kabaya leaf, and coconut crabs cooked in coconut milk.

  The wait staff ushered them to a table near the window. There were about eight tables in the restaurant, four already occupied. The air had a slight flavour of turmeric, coconut, banana leaves, and sea air.

  “I don't know about you, but I find today's specials hard to resist. Do you like seafood?” Veren asked, his eyes gleaming.

  “I love seafood. I've never had flying fish and coconut crab before,” she said, unable to curb her own excitement.

  “Okay, let's get those, and … some Luñis,” he said.

  “What’s a Luñis?” Everything on this island cuisine-wise was new to her, but that couldn’t have put her off, as nothing could be stranger than what her Aswang family partook in regularly.

  “It's an indigenous dish of preserved pork, usually served fried, crispy, and paired with turmeric rice,” he replied.

  “How do you know all this?” It amazed her that he knew so much about the island in such a short time.

  “Internet searches. I do them before I visit any place,” he said, a smug look on his face. “Did you not do the same before you came here?”

  “No. My decision to come here was ... an impulse.”

  “Why? What brought you here? It seems such a long way away from where you were from—the south close to Batangas.”

  “I’ll tell you tomorrow when I’m officially in your employ.” She would avoid answering questions about her identity for as long as she could and evade it with every means she had.

  He looked at her, eyes narrowed in speculation, then he shrugged his shoulders. “Fair enough.”

  He got back to perusing the menu. She did the same.

  Veren was glad he had already chosen what he wanted to eat when he saw the blackboard earlier. He wasn’t reading the menu—he was trying to sense Anza's mood. She came out relaxed, fresh-faced and every bit the sixteen year-old that she was. There was something about her that appealed to him—a mixture of vulnerability and fire. She made him want to tease her, challenge her to take chances, and keep her safe and take care of her in equal measure.

  She was reluctant to get on the motorbike earlier. He expected her reaction. It was not the safest form of transportation for most people, and she was a sheltered young woman who was used to the chauffeured, four-wheel kind. He liked bikes but would have rented a car for her if there was one available. It was the spark of courage he saw in her earlier that made him goad her. He had a feeling she would accept his challenge.

  And he was right.

  He was glad to have chosen this restaurant. Anza did not expect it. He smiled to himself when he recalled her expression. She liked this place. He noticed that his efforts to develop her trust in him had kept her off-balanced and it was proving effective. She needed to reach the point where his words would have enough sway in her decisions. She needed to heed his advice to come home voluntarily.

  “Are you ready to order?” he asked.

  She said she was hungry earlier. She only had noodles for lunch, and because she was upset then, she might not have eaten well. As far as he knew, she only had a cup of coffee aside from that. She smiled and nodded at him, putting her menu down. He beckoned the server over and ordered both the coconut crab and the flying fish, plus an order of Luñis.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asked.

  She didn’t respond. Instead, her eyes were full of speculation.

  “Will you order a beer?” she asked.

  “For you? No, you're too young.” He wasn’t about to corrupt her with bad habits.

  “Not for me, for you,” she said, her upper lip curled in mild annoyance.

  That made him smile. That one action displayed sparks of her inner fire.

  “Well, yeah, I am having a beer …”

  “I'd like to take a sip out of yours … Just for the experience.” Her tone was hopeful, like a little girl asking for ice cream, but the gleam of naughtiness in her eyes was adult.

  “Ah, I guess that’s okay. I’ll give you a sip. But what would you like to drink?”

  He felt pleased and somewhat guilty for enabling Anza, for allowing himself to be used to test her new independence, to sharpen her claws. On the plus side, this would deepen her trust in him.

  “I will have Kalamansi juice,” she said after perusing the drink menu.

  The server came with their drinks five minutes later. She was looking expectantly at his beer, which arrived ice cold. Her glance flew to his face when he made no move to hand the bottle over. With a chuckle, he pushed it to her.

  An excited giggle escaped her as she lifted the bottle to her lips too quickly. He didn’t have time to warn her as she took a huge gulp and swallowed the icy liquid. She spluttered and snorted the beer out of her mouth and nose, her body wracked with coughs, her eyes watering.

  He found it impossible not to laugh even as he patted her back gently and gave her his handkerchief. Anza glared at him through teary eyes. As her cough subsided, she took a sip of water from the glass he handed her. He held the bottom to control the amount that she could take. She didn’t resist. That pleased him. Already, she trusted him more.

  The server hovered with a rag to wipe the splatter of beer on the table, but he motioned him away. He wiped the table dry with the napkins himself. He didn’t want Anza to be more embarrassed. Her cheeks were delightfully red as she looked across from him and saw the people on the next table watching her. The flush of colour spread to her face and neck.

  “Are you alright?” he asked as she dabbed her cheeks and eyes with his handkerchief. Her coughing had stopped.

  She nodded, looking mortified still. He grinned at her. He couldn’t help it. She looked so adorable with her red-rimmed eyes, the flush of high colour on her face and neck, defiance in her jawline. She looked incandescent with life.

  “What do you think of the beer?” He tried to keep his face straight.

  “It was painful, especially up the nose.” Her tone and expression went deadpan. Her lips quivered, and for a split second, he thought she would cry. His gaze flew to her eyes in alarm. Mirth sparkled in her eyes as she tried to stop herself. Their eyes met, and they both burst out laughing.

  “You weren’t supposed to snort the beer, Anza,” he said after he calmed down, in a tone reminiscent of a professor.

  “The beer had a mind of its own. I wanted it to go down my throat, but it travelled up instead,” she said. The humour of the incident lingered in her gaze.

  As he looked at her face, the inner fire he saw in her seemed to have set her alight from within. She glowed. At that moment, he had a glimpse of what she could look like when she had grown into her womanhood. And it kindled something in him that expanded in his chest.

  He felt glad that he was here, with her, tonight.

  Their server arrived with their food, breaking the electrified moment. The aroma of the grilled flying fish came with the fragrance of heated banana leaves and a hint of citrus. Their crabs looked deliciously rich, the orange shells bathed in coconut cream. The golden-brown pork dish looked crunchy and mouthwatering.

  They tucked into their food in relative silence. Anza was hungry as he watched her eat with complete absorption and enjoyment. She savoured a new dish with singularity—she would put it in her mouth, close her eyes, inhale deep, then hum under her breath as if she was engaging all her senses in one go. Her eating habits entranced him.

  She didn’t just eat her food, she experienced it.

  This revealed more than words ever could as to why she rebelled and ran away. Her thirst to experience life to the fullest was deep, and her family, without conscious thought, hindered it.

  It amused him to see her suck the flesh out of the crab claws. Her delight in it was so contagious that he ended up copying her. It became a game of who slurped the loudest. This was the first time a meal
transcended into an event. It etched itself into his memory.

  The sparkle in her eyes told him all was right in her world at that moment. She was happy. It sent a glad note to his heart and with it a sliver of apprehension. She might get used to this human life and that would make it hard for him to convince her to come home to her parents, to their kind, their world, and its veiled existence.

  With their bellies full of food and in their hearts, merriment, they capped the night with coffee and enjoyed it over at the lookout point. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing on the shore, the slight chill in the air paired well with the hot coffee. The result was very calming.

  “That was a wonderful dinner,” Anza said, glancing up at him. “Thank you.”

  Her hair was down from its earlier ponytail. The elastic seemed unable to hold it in place. The wind whipped it about her face, making it a challenge for her to drink her coffee in peace. He couldn’t resist lifting the strands off of her cheeks and mouth and tucking them behind her ears.

  She handed her cup to him as she self-consciously gathered her hair back in a low ponytail. She tucked the shorter baby hairs that grew around her face behind her ears. In that instance, she looked like the sixteen year-old that she was, and he felt a twinge of regret. She was still a baby. And the object of his mission. It was unseemly for him to develop a crush on a high-school student.

  This must be how a crush works—the object of your interest seems to blossom right before your eyes, making her more beautiful, more compelling every second.

  “What was your favourite dish?” he asked, to keep his mind off its present preoccupation.

  She paused, her head tilted, eyes narrowed. “Hmm … I can’t decide. I like them all.”

  “If you can order only one dish when we dine next time, which among the three would you reorder?” He was unsure why he wanted to find out her answer to his question, but it felt essential.