by Oz Mari G.
“I’ll be honest with you, Veren. I like Anza very much and I want to be her friend.” Diego's straight reply and unwavering gaze impressed him. Most guys wouldn’t challenge another male if they could help it.
“Diego, I can’t stop you from pursuing her. Only Anza can, frankly.” This truth was obvious to them both, but he knew Diego wanted to hear it from him.
“So, you won’t stop me?”
Diego was asking for his permission, he realised. As much as Veren would have liked to deny Diego the pleasure, he didn’t have it in him to impede what would be beneficial for Anza.
“Of course I won’t, but you must accept the responsibility for what your actions would do to her. Anza’s young—a sixteen year-old. She had a sheltered upbringing and she's naïve. If you take advantage of her, if you hurt her, you’ll colour her view of life and men from then on.” He paused only to take a breath. “So, are you prepared for that?”
He was daring Diego to give him his word, to prove to him that he was as honourable as he seemed to be. Diego stared at him, gauging his sincerity, it seemed.
“Yes. My intention is pure. And if friendship is the only thing she wants at the moment, I’ll be a friend to her.” Diego’s statement conveyed that he wanted more.
Part of him wished Diego had backed down. Emotionally, Anza was a blank slate. If a human like Diego showed her kindness, she might just fall in love with him. Veren felt a twinge of fear. But he couldn’t put his self-interest above Anza’s. Her welfare was more important.
“What she wants and what she needs might not be the same thing.” Veren couldn’t help but stress the point again. “Are you committed to putting her needs above your own?”
If Anza was going to go out into the world, it would help that she had another human in her life who wouldn’t take advantage of her lack of experience. Especially since he couldn’t be with her, to watch out for her.
“I have never taken advantage of anyone in my life, Veren. I’m not about to start with Anza.” Diego's defensive response was empathic, but not enough for him.
“Diego, Anza needs someone who would allow her to experience life. She needs to make many friends, to develop relationships that would expand her horizon. Would you allow her to grow into her own person before making her yours?”
Diego stood still for a long moment; his eyes never left him. The understanding that dawned on Diego's face chafed at Veren’s insides. It made him feel raw and exposed.
“Is that what you’re doing, Veren?”
Diego's question struck him with the force of a sledgehammer. His jaw tightened. He had to swallow to loosen the knot in his chest.
“Can you do it?” He asked, ignoring Diego's question.
Diego nodded and released a long in-drawn breath, then held out his hand—a man’s offer of his commitment. Diego had just accepted to take his place in Anza’s life as her keeper. Veren shook the other man’s hand; it was the sealing of a pact, the passing of a baton.
And it was a blow to his heart.
“When can I see Anza?” Diego asked, clearing his throat.
“Not today. We’re leaving Basco tomorrow.” He wanted all of Anza’s remaining hours here to be only his. Every single second.
At Diego's expression, he took a piece of paper and wrote Anza's phone number down. “Here you go. Anza's number. Her phone is off at the moment, but she’ll turn it on when she returns to Manila.” He handed it to Diego. “I’ll tell her to expect your call.”
Diego looked at it and considered him, “Thank you, Veren.” He pocketed the paper. Then, with a nod, he turned and left.
His borrowed time with Anza was bleeding away fast. With grim determination, Veren proceeded to where she was.
Anza was still napping in her room when he entered. He watched her for a while, memorising the curve of her shoulders, the relaxed, half-opened mouth, the lashes that threw a slight shadow on her baby-soft cheeks, and the gentle rise of her body as she slept. He would commit this to his memory, etch it in his heart. This child-woman that destiny threw in his path continued to create chaos in his soul without knowing it, and with so little effort.
He laid down the dress he bought for her a few days ago at the foot of the bed. He hoped to see it on her tonight.
It would be his one and only chance.
Mrs. Bassig allowed them to use her vehicle when she found out he was planning to take Anza to Fundación Pacita for dinner. She didn’t want Anza exposed to the chilly night air, which she would be if they rode his rented motorbike.
When Anza showed up wearing the grey rayon dress, it rendered him speechless. She fixed her hair into relaxed waves, and she was wearing makeup. She gave him a glimpse of what she would be like as a woman, when she’d be old enough for him.
Emotions choked him up.
“You look stunning, little one,” he said through a tight throat. His voice sounded rusty, even to his own ears.
“Thank you,” Anza said, throwing him a bemused look. “And thank you for this dress. How did you know I wanted it?” The glitter in her eyes was challenging, and a tad suspicious.
He swallowed a kick of panic in his constricted chest. “I saw you look at it in the shop a few days ago.”
One delicate eyebrow quirked with warning. “You were following me?”
“No. I was going to the same shop… to get you a hoodie, so you won’t be cold when we travel.” His pulse was rioting while he waited for Anza’s response.
Her eyebrow lowered and erased the suspicion in her eyes. She smoothed the dressed down. Her smile was shy, and grateful. “Thank you, again.”
“You're welcome.” He gulped down his relief. “Shall we?”
She took his offered arm and walked with him to the waiting car.
“No bike tonight?” Anza asked, surprised. She looked around for the motorcycle.
He smiled at her. “No. Mrs. Bassig doesn’t want you to get too exposed to the night air.”
“Oh! Does that mean we’re going somewhere far?” Her eyes were alight with excitement.
“Not far, but somewhere special,” he replied, and ushered her to the passenger seat.
“Where are we going?”
“You'll like it. You'll see.”
A garden glittering with hundreds of tiny fairy lights greeted them. Fundacion Pacita was perched atop rolling hills, with a three-hundred-sixty degrees of amazing view. The beautiful stone building made her think of a small castle ruling over a compact kingdom. It had an otherworldly ambience.
Veren booked a table for them on the verandah with the view and the sound of the wind-swept ocean. Their illumination came from the glass lamp set on one corner of the table. They sat side by side, allowing them to enjoy the scenery and talk at a comfortable level.
Few words were exchanged between them during dinner. Veren seemed content. He gave her smiles, affectionate little touches, and pleased looks. As for her, she was just happy being there with him, in this peaceful setting. Time was fleeting, and words seemed to make the clock move faster. Silence was the best way to savour the moment.
She recalled when she woke up earlier that day, thinking of the grey dress that she regretted not splurging on. It was like a miracle to find it there, draped at the foot of the bed. For a moment, she thought she dreamt it. It could only be Veren who got it for her. She thought it an odd coincidence that he picked up the one dress she really liked in the shop. But then, the shop was small, the choices weren’t varied and the grey dress was the best among the selection.
It was not the most expensive dress she had ever owned. Not even close. But to her, this dress was invaluable. Veren gave it to her at the time she wanted it most. It made her look and feel like a woman, or at least older than her current age. And, with the aid of make-up, she felt worthy of the opportunity to breach the age gap between her and Veren tonight.
As she glanced his way, she caught him studying her, a look of indecision on his face. But he took a deep breath and his s
mile chased it away.
“Why were you looking at me like that?” She wanted to know what was on his mind, to see if she read him right.
“What do you mean?”
The flickering light of the lamp made it hard for Anza to read his thoughts as the shadows danced across his face.
“Earlier,” she explained, “you looked like you were weighing your options, and whatever it was, you decided against it.”
“I was weighing … whether I was going to order dessert or not, but I had enough … food already. It was just … greed,” he replied.
She sensed he wasn’t referring to food, but she let it pass.
“What’s our plan tomorrow? What time do we leave?” The thought of going home and seeing her father again gave her butterflies in the stomach.
“Eleven a.m. We need to leave the hotel by eight. Will you be ready by then?”
“Yes—all of my possessions fit in my backpack.” Packing her bag had brought the finality of her decision home. “Where are you staying in the city?” She was compelled to ask him. She didn’t want to cut their connection short.
“I don’t know yet, but I can escort you to your home, to your father.” He covered her hand in assurance.
“You don’t have to. I can call him. He’ll want to pick me up at the airport.” She didn’t want him to feel obligated.
“I want to do this, Anza.”
Why? “As my keeper?”
“As your keeper.”
“How long are you going to be one, Veren?” She leaned closer to read his expression better.
He paused before answering, “For as long as it takes.”
It was still a vague, unsatisfactory response, but the promise of a future reassured her. If her father agreed to her bargain, Veren would be her first official human friend. And she couldn’t have done better. Her father wouldn’t fault her judgment on Veren.
An icy breeze swept over them, making her shiver. Veren took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulder, grasping the front of it close.
“Shall we go?” he asked, tapping the end of her nose.
She nodded.
As she stood by the entrance, Veren stopped. She glanced up at him, wondering why.
“I’ve got a request, little one.” Veren smiled down at her, tucking the wisps of hair behind her ear.
“What is it?”
“Can I take a photo of you?” He held up his phone, crooked half-smile on his face.
She didn’t expect that. Veren wasn’t the selfie-taking kind.
Bemused, she nodded. With the fairy-lighted garden as a backdrop, Veren took a photo of her on his phone. The seriousness in his face as he took the shot made her smile—the satisfied glint in his eyes as he looked at his picture widened it.
On the leisurely drive back to their hotel, Veren stopped by every lookout point along the way and took more photos. It was like Veren was trying to capture all their moments together as much as he could, cram as much of it in the remaining time they had together, and record them all in his phone for posterity.
“You have to give me copies of those shots, Veren,” Anza said in jest. It was her attempt to drive out the unsettling emotions from her heart.
“Of course. I can transfer them to your phone later. Have you turned it back on, by the way? Or called your father, for that matter?”
“No, not yet. I was planning to do it tomorrow when we’re at the airport.” The thought of calling her father made her stomach ache.
Veren squeezed her hand. “Everything will be okay, little one.”
Somehow, she believed him. His certainty gave her confidence.
They got back to the hotel just before the wind changed. The downpour that followed made their shared coffee on her verandah cosy and heart-warming. There was something soothing about being together while watching a storm rage outside. It made the turmoil in their hearts seem inconsequential.
They spent the late hours of the night and well into the early hours of the morning talking about life, anything, and everything. During the moments of silence, they were in accord. No conversation was necessary.
Veren held her close to him for hours. They remained awake and witnessed darkness turn into light. They listened to the whispering wind that turned into a howl as the morning came and the rain intensified. Flashes of lightning made the swaying streams of rain visible. Stormy weather had never looked as fascinating or compelling. Dark clouds hid the sun, giving them the illusion that night refused to give in to morning, that it was here to stay and prolong their remaining time together.
The moment was broken when Veren received a text message. His serene expression turned into alarm as he read it. His grim silence and the hardness in his expression unnerved her.
“What happened?”
“They cancelled our flight because of the poor weather.” Veren's flat tone scared her. It seemed to have created a panic in him.
“It's not too bad … isn't it? We can re-book tomorrow, or the next day …” Her voice faltered as the dread in his eyes grew. He didn’t seem to hear her. Her heart hammered violent beats against her chest.
“Anza, I have to go … somewhere. I need to do something. Stay here. I’ll be back later,” Veren said, then rushed out of the door. He didn’t wait for her response.
For the first time in her life, she was frightened. Of what, she didn’t know. It was a premonition of something terrible, and it settled like a boulder in her stomach.
Veren phoned Edrigu multiple times, but the signal was bad. He sent him a text message, just in case. It was a disaster to be stranded here today. There was no Tribunal source of victus here in Basco. The population was too small. No morgue or hospital to steal fresh human heart, liver or kidney from.
His vital hunger was rising. His Crux was strong because of practice and training, but he didn’t know how long he could delay the Auto-morphosis into his Animus, his animal hunting form.
Once he turned into a panther, his vital hunger would force him to secure the viscera he needed. Hunting humans remained a capital crime in their laws, and he didn’t want to unleash his beastly nature in this island paradise. It would ruin the peace.
The weather, which seemed beautiful earlier, now appeared like a sign that all things that could go wrong just did. His only consolation was that people would be less likely to come out in this storm. There would be fewer victims and potential witnesses to his crime.
The safety of the people on the island would depend on the protection that he would erect around himself. He hoped his text to his mentor got through and sustenance would be on its way within a day or so. He would try to hold off the Auto-morphosis for as long as he could.
If help failed to arrive in two days, he dared not think about the choices left to him. To kill a human, a capital crime punishable by death; consume his own liver, which would make him insane; or end his own life.
The result for him would be the same—death.
For now, it was time for his defensive plan. He had scoped the area the first day he arrived for a potential shelter just for an incident such as this. The old grain barn, made of stone and clay tucked at the back of the compound just behind the hotel, was the ideal place. And as was his training, he brought everything that he would need with him. His Impedio, some sedatives, and a muzzle. He would restrain and barricade himself there until sustenance arrived.
His pounding heart threatened to deafen him. He took deep breaths to calm himself down, to slow his heartbeat and tap into his Crux to determine how many hours he had left before he would lose complete control of his Animus.
Six, maybe eight hours before my Crux breaks down.
He needed to be away from Anza before then. He had enough time to prepare the barn, to protect the people from him. And hopefully, he would have some time to spare to reassure Anza.
She would be alone during his confinement. He didn’t want her to think that he had abandoned her.
Veren had been gone since
six a.m. It was past noon now, and he still wasn’t back.
He wasn’t in his room, nor was he in any of the public areas of the inn. No one had seen him, and they doubted he went anywhere outside since it had been pouring rain since dawn.
Where is he?
Anza couldn’t shake the hunch he was in trouble. Something dark loomed, and it would affect them both.
The verandah, which she grew fond of because of the moments she had spent with Veren, was now restrictive. A single text message wiped away the serenity they had enjoyed just a few hours ago. She could not stay there, just waiting and worrying about him.
Despite their connection, she knew little about him. He could be a fugitive from the law or a psychopath. But even as she enumerated every possible dire and dangerous scenario about him, she couldn’t disregard the fact that he had been nothing but caring to her.
She was a runaway, and he knew about it. He could have done anything to her, and no one would have found out. He could have taken advantage of her many times—at the Lighthouse, when she was sick, and even last night. There were plenty of times she was alone with him, and if he had wanted to do her harm, it would have been easy for him.
She was pacing in her room when a knock sounded. She rushed to open it, but to her disappointment, Mrs. Bassig greeted her.
“Good afternoon, Anza. I heard they cancelled your flight.” Her cheerful voice grated on her nerves. Mrs. Bassig was carrying folded bedsheets, towels, and pillowcases.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Bassig.” She stepped aside to let her in. “Yes, Ma'am. I think they rescheduled it for tomorrow.”
Mrs. Bassig handed her fresh bedclothes, and paused by the bed when she saw the backpack.
“All packed?” Mrs. Bassig said over her shoulder as she stripped the bed of its sheets with a quick, efficient motion. “You must be excited to go home to your family,” she continued as she took one of the fresh sheets from her and redressed the bed.
“Yes, I am.”
