The Keeper

by Oz Mari G.

  “Alas, no,” she replied.

  “Would you like to stretch your legs?” Diego had stood up, offering her his hand. She hesitated. Her muscles were tight, but she didn’t want to leave Charisse to monopolise Veren.

  Charlie got up, too. “That's a good idea, Diego.” He faced Veren and said, “With your permission, Veren, can we accompany Anza for a walk?”

  Veren looked at her, waiting for her to decide.

  “Let them go, Veren. My cousin and Charlie are harmless. They’ll take care of Anza,” Charisse said, touching Veren's knee again.

  “Why don't we all stretch our legs?” Veren suggested, standing up and pulling Anza to her feet.

  She didn’t realise her butt had gotten numb from sitting for so long. She winced and gasped as the blood resumed its restricted flow through the veins at the back of her thighs.

  Veren heard her. “Are you okay, little one?”

  “Pins and needles,” she said, trying to rub the sensation back on her rump. Veren grinned as he watched her. “I'm ready.” She shook off her legs.

  With her hand curved into Veren's arm, they walked toward the end of the ridge, their steps slow and meandering. Diego had situated himself beside her. Charisse, as Anza expected, had slid her own arm through Veren's other arm. Charlie, it seemed, had lapsed into silence, and walked a step behind them all.

  She wished the three would leave them alone. She wanted to ask Veren some questions, specifically what he meant when he declared himself her keeper.

  Was he just joking?

  What does it mean?

  Veren's patience was running thin. These three humans and their normal ways shouldn’t have bothered him, but they did. He didn’t like how Charisse treated Anza, or how Charlie insulted her. He was glad that Anza’s reaction to a crushing comment made her hackles rise instead. Her first instinct was to fight.

  But the most bothersome thing was that Diego got on Anza's good side. Veren didn’t want to look too deep into why it displeased him, since Diego wasn’t as obnoxious as the other two, and making friends would benefit Anza.

  During her brief stint here in Basco, she would have a chance at every human experience to create enough memories to last her a lifetime—so, she wouldn’t want to do this again. The most ideal situation was for her to make them while Veren was around to protect her. He could help her assess which ones she could trust, and which ones she should stay away from.

  Anza’s instinct with people was good, but her youth and perhaps her desire to make connections would make her vulnerable. And, if tonight was an example, she was attractive in every way a teenage girl could be. She would draw that kind of attention wherever she went, especially when she learn to use her feminine charms.

  He wondered now if her father ever taught her how to defend herself. Most females of their kind, at least the Vis he knew, had some basic training. It was part of the drill.

  Anza didn’t look trained, her body slim and slight like a normal human teenager. She didn’t strike him as athletic, either. Maybe it was the combination of her physique and innocent face that made him want to make sure she was safe, unharmed, unhurt.

  Anza's chuckle drew him out of his own musings. She was laughing at whatever joke Diego told her. The boy was getting more successful in drawing her out by the minute. It chafed at him, but he didn’t react. He would let Anza enjoy herself. This was temporary since she wouldn’t see Diego again after tonight.

  “I think my cousin and your ward are getting along fine. Don't you?” Charisse’s comment was pointed as she leaned closer to him.

  He could smell the pheromones emanating from her, but her wish would remain unfulfilled. He wasn’t into one-night stands, and his work ethic forbade playing while on a job. Unlike the other males of his kind, he wouldn’t dally with female humans just because it was common practice. Brevis Amorem may be a habit to most Viscerebus males, but it was not his.

  The Tribunal's rules may justify the indulgence for brief affairs, since they were expected to keep relationships with female humans brief and impersonal, but it was not something he liked to do. He wouldn’t add more parentless children in this world. No child of his would be a Vondenad left to survive alone in this world.

  Charisse tugged at his arm, prompting him to respond to her earlier question.

  “Anza is a friendly girl,” he said with a glance at Anza and Diego. Anza's hand was still hooked on his arm, even if her attention was on Diego. That made him feel connected to her still. On an unconscious level, it anchored her to him.

  “My cousin likes her very much. Charlie does, too. But, since Anza seems to prefer Diego, Charlie has stepped back,” Charisse observed.

  “We'll see. In the meantime, Diego had better behave himself. Anza is under my care.” He said it loud enough for everyone to hear. It was a warning that he wanted Charisse to know, and for Diego to heed.

  Anza and Diego stopped at the edge of the ridge and looked at him. Then, Anza pulled off the tablecloth draped around her shoulders and laid it on the grass. Charisse was quick to sit at Anza’s right side after Anza took the first seat. With Diego at her left, they sandwiched Anza between them. Charisse’s intention was obvious: the vacant space beside her was for Veren.

  Veren opted to be behind Anza. An exasperated Charlie sat beside him.

  Undeterred, Charisse twisted around to face him instead. Her disinterest in the incoming sunrise was made clear. Veren sighed, finding her persistence tiresome, although he couldn’t help but be impressed by her extreme self-confidence—she ignored all the signals he was giving her. She seemed like a woman unused to getting rejected. Either that, or her manner of succeeding with them was by railroading their objections.

  “So, Veren, do you have a girlfriend?” Her forwardness wasn’t unexpected.

  “No, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  Anza overheard his response and twisted to look at him. He placed his hands on her shoulders and made her face forward with a light pressure on her shoulder blades to keep her there. He rubbed gentle circles to reassure her.

  Of what, he wasn’t sure.

  “What traits do you find attractive in a woman?” Charisse asked in a tone so saccharine, it was cloying. All her affectations were so unnatural—it was off-putting.

  His response was a gentle shake of his head and a smile. Charisse pouted, unable to hide her irritation at his evasion.

  Rays of sunshine started peeking out from the horizon, lightening the dark sky. The midnight blue hues transitioned to red violet. They were all transfixed at the sight. A welcome spate of silence enveloped them. Veren dug out his mobile phone and gave it to Anza, handing it to her from over her shoulder without an exchange of words. She glanced back at him with a grateful smile.

  Another blast of cold air swept through them, making Anza shiver. Without a word, he grasped Anza's waist and pulled her back to him, close to his chest. His bent legs served as her armrests. She leaned back on him. His body protected her from the wind, warming her. Her silent sigh of contentment echoed his.

  His chin rested at the top of her head, her back flat on his chest. They watched the sunrise on the horizon in complete silence. Anza held his mobile phone, her elbows propped on his knees. His arm hung loosely around her middle.

  As the half globe of the sun showed, Anza aimed the camera at the view, watching the sun through the screen. The colours of the horizon transitioned from varying shades of violets to reds and yellows. Her eyes focused on the display, her fingers clicking at a furious pace.

  “Two more minutes, Anza. You have enough beautiful shots,” he whispered in her ear. A puzzled frown formed on her face as she glanced at him.

  “Why?” Her question came a breath away from his cheek.

  “So you can experience the sunrise—the photos can never capture that,” he replied. “Be present, little one.”

  She nodded and lowered his cell phone. And for the succeeding minutes, they watched the sunrise until the whole globe of
it emerged. The rays of yellow radiated from the centre sphere and painted the surrounding areas, layering them with red and orange.

  It was breathtaking.

  Anza took a deep breath and released it in gradual degrees. He felt her smile on his cheek, which triggered a smile of his own. “Shall we go?” she whispered.

  “Yes. Let's get some breakfast along the way,” he said. With a swift motion, he got up, pulling her too to her feet.

  The rest of the group got up with them. Anza seemed surprised at their presence. He couldn’t blame her. The complete silence and their shared moment earlier made him forget them, too. That wasn’t a good thing if he was to become a great Iztari. Losing awareness of the surroundings could be deadly to a warrior.

  “Are you guys leaving?” Charisse asked, stepping off the cloth as Anza tugged at it.

  “We have to be on our way,” Veren said. He took the cloth from Anza and folded it.

  “Where are you off to next?” Diego’s question was directed at him, but his eyes shifted to Anza.

  She shrugged. Anza was waiting for him to speak for them.

  “We’ll decide along the way,” he replied. He understood that Anza was as eager to leave their company as he was.

  “Can we tag along?” Charisse asked.

  He saw the spark of temper in Anza's eyes. She was close to saying something rude. He squeezed her fingers to stop her.

  “We have a few things we need to accomplish. So, goodbye to you now. It’s been a pleasure.” He held out his hand to Charisse. She looked at it, unwilling to accept his handshake of farewell. Charlie grasped it instead.

  “The pleasure was ours. Thank you, too,” Charlie shook his hand. “Guys, I believe we have to get going, too. We’ve imposed our presence on them long enough. We don’t want to take up more of their time.”

  Veren's dislike towards the guy lessened. It seemed he wasn’t that self-absorbed.

  Diego offered his hand to Anza, saying, “It was great meeting you and spending time with you, Anza.”

  She shook his hand and replied with a benign smile, “Likewise.”

  “Can I ask for your number? Maybe we can get in touch when we get back to civilization?” Diego’s gaze and crooked grin seemed hopeful.

  Anza hesitated.

  “Anza doesn’t have her phone right now. Give me your number and she can get it from me later,” he said.

  Diego hesitated for a moment, but dictated his number anyway. As he saved it on his phone, he wasn’t sure if he could be selfless enough to give Diego's number to Anza after. He could only hope that Anza would forget to ask for it later.

  “Can I have yours, Veren?” Charisse asked, her phone at the ready.

  He gave her his number without hesitation. It was a burner phone, with a burner SIM card. Training protocol required that they destroy the phone and the SIM card after every case.

  The three walked them to their bike. Just before Anza got on the bike behind him, Diego stopped her. “Call me, Anza, okay? I’d like to get to know you better as a… um… friend,” he said. His hand clasped hers once more.

  The warrior in him didn’t like the feeling that bloomed in his chest at the sight of Anza’s smile. It made him impatient to leave. The feeling faded as they zoomed out of the parking lot and onto the road, away from Diego, Charlie, and the persistent Charisse.

  Veren stopped at a roadside eatery half an hour later. On the menu were fried rice, eggs with fried flying fish and the crispy, dried pork dish they had the night before. The meal came with dark coffee and brown sugar. It was served outdoors—the weather was perfect for it.

  As they set the plates down, Anza’s mouth watered at the aroma of hot, garlic fried rice. Intrigued, she watched Veren pour a quarter of his coffee on the rice. Veren laughed at her expression.

  “You should try it. It's fantastic. I learned this from the Batangueños. They all pour coffee on their fried rice.” With an excited lift of his eyebrow, he tucked into his food with enjoyment.

  She copied him with more caution. She spooned some of her coffee over a bit of rice. Combined with the egg and flying fish, she had to agree with Veren. The smokiness of the coffee complimented the flavours and neutralised whatever oiliness there was in the fried rice and egg.

  “That was delicious!” she said as the first mouthful assaulted her taste buds.

  It was such a simple variation of a commonplace dish. Just a tweak. And yet, it brought her a new understanding of it, a new appreciation that made it more enjoyable.

  “That's what travelling does to you. It enables you to experience other cultures. And the best way to do that is through their food,” Veren said. “Have you travelled outside of the country before?”

  “Yes, every year, with my parents.” Somehow, her trips with her parents didn’t have the feel of a novel experience or an awakening. With them, it was conventional, like a continuation of a routine, just in a different location.

  He frowned at her lacklustre response. “Did that not make you perceive the people and their cultures in a different light?”

  “It's hard to learn more about people when you encounter them at a distance, or to appreciate something new if your parents restrict you the whole time.” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter where we go, which attraction we visit, which restaurant we eat in: I feel like I still view my world through the narrow lens my parents set me up for.”

  Veren's intent gaze revealed his contemplation, as if her viewpoint was something he hadn’t considered.

  “I think we view the world through a narrow lens of our own experience,” he stated, “and for most of us, each lens is different, but the size of that lens is within our individual control. Yours is a distinct case, I’ve got to admit.”

  They ate in silence for a minute or two as she weighed whether she would raise her next question now or later. Her impatience won.

  “Veren, why did you say you were my keeper?” She had been itching to ask him the question since she first heard him say it.

  Veren chewed, slow and prolonged. It appeared deliberate, as if he was buying his time to think of a decent response. “Well, that’s the role I see myself having in your life…” It was a very casual response; it was almost evasive.

  “What does it mean … to be my keeper?” That he saw it as a role in her life implied permanence. Considering the limited time they had together, the statement confused her.

  “Like a bodyguard, I guess. A mentor, a guidance counsellor, a friend …”

  “All of those require a constant presence.” She had to point that out. When he left Basco, she would still be here. How could he be my keeper if he’s somewhere else?

  Veren stared at her. There was a line of strain around his mouth, as if he was in pain. It disappeared when he smiled at her, yet there was a touch of sadness to it.

  “That’s true, but with technology, there’s really no way to lose contact with anyone you care about,” he said.

  A stab of sadness hit her. Once he leaves here, there would be no way they could keep in contact with each other. For as long as she was hiding from her parents, she couldn’t turn on her phone. She planned to hide for a year. She doubted that Veren would still remember her.

  “For some people, yes. In my case, that wouldn’t be possible,” she said.

  Veren's frown deepened. “Why? Don’t you want to be friends with me?”

  “While I’m in hiding, I cannot turn my phone on. That means I won’t be able to text you, either.” Even if she went back home, her parents would never allow her to form a relationship with a human like him.

  “What about when you return home? Can’t we keep in contact then?”

  “No. My parents would never let me be friends with any human … being.” In the Vis world, she would go back to her isolated life. She didn’t want to go back to that.

  Veren was quiet once again. He turned contemplative, then took a deep breath and continued eating. When she didn’t do the same, he prodded her.
“Eat up, little one. Your food is getting cold.”

  She complied, but she had lost her appetite. There was no resolution, but it was no use forcing him to respond if he didn’t want to. She had heard and witnessed his evasive moves last night. He was skilled at it.

  Ten minutes later, as they were preparing for the ride back, a thought came to her: “If you are my keeper, does it mean that I’m your keeper in return?”

  Veren paused from fixing her helmet. “When I’m ready to have a keeper, you’ll be my first choice,” he replied. “There you go—all done.” He avoided her gaze and turned to straddle the bike.

  She had no choice but to follow his lead. She got behind him, like before, with her arms around his waist, her thumbs hooked inside his belt loops. But this time, while it was the most natural thing to do yesterday, today it felt awkward.

  Just before he put his own helmet on, Veren looked back at her and said, “Little one, you need to hold on to me a little tighter. You’ve had no sleep and I don't want you to fall off during the ride.”

  “Okay.” She leaned closer to him, her stomach pressed to his lower back, arms firm around his midriff, hands crossed and thumbs hooked on his belt loops. Her action became automatic; the awkwardness faded with his command.

  Veren strapped on his helmet and away they zoomed along the picturesque country road. Like yesterday, they zigged and zagged past the stone, earthen and wooden homes; the mixture of blue sea and sky, the lush green of the hills, and the local people going about their daily chores.

  She was content—something fundamental to her well-being settled in her heart. The hum of the motorcycle hypnotised her, and her last conscious thought was the hope that she could smell him through the helmet. His scent reminded her of home.

  The silence and the stillness woke her up. Disoriented, she realised they had arrived back at the inn. She was still pressed along Veren's back, and his left arm was pressed on her right, left hand clasping her elbow.