The Keeper

The Meeting

Rocco sat down in one of the chairs in a local coffee shop in Tuguegarao City. He is waiting for the man who delivered ice to the household of Anza Soledad, the last one who saw her. According to Manuel Soledad, the man gave Anza a ride to the city, and dropped her off across the street and drove away. He wanted to interview the man himself.

As he waited, he reviewed the file and what he learned so far about his subject, Aetheranza Soledad, fondly called by her parents as Anza. Interesting name. Being an Erdia, she has an advantage over Aswangs like himself - their Tribunal gives her the leeway to create a social media account, for as long as there are no exposure of their Aswang relatives in it.

The photos of her showed a well-dressed young girl, fashionable even. Her social media is as extensive as expected from any average human teenager, typically filled with pictures of her travels, the books she read, movies she watched, places she dined in. The content of her pages were interesting that she could easily be a popular influencer, but she does not have much followers. It was like she designed her social media to be a journal, more for herself than the people who can see her posts.

Her family said that she's good in school, passionate, strong-willed, but otherwise a dutiful daughter. Her father and stepmother gave him differing opinions on her personality. Her father said that she's a book-loving, introverted girl, reserved, observant and content to being by herself. Her stepmother disagreed - she claimed that she was not reserved, she loved poetry, that she craved affection and social interaction. It would seem that her stepmother is correct in that aspect.

"Mr. Albareda?" he looked up to see an older man approached his table. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, skin browned in the sun, one arm darker than the other, no doubt because of his driving the delivery truck.

He nodded in acknowledgment, "Mang Andong?" He stood up and offered his hand to the man, who shook it hesitantly, his grip limp and weak.

The man took the seat he offered, and after their order of coffee was served, Mang Andong asked him directly, "What can I do for you, Mr. Albareda?"

"Our family asked me to look for my cousin, Anza. I believe you gave her a ride from the lodge and dropped her off here?" he gave the older man the practiced spiel that he agreed with the Soledad family.

"Yes. I told them that already," the man nodded. As Manuel Soledad told him, Mang Andong seemed very open and cooperative.

"Yes, sir. My uncle told me you did. Did you notice anything about her? Did she say or ask you about anything during the ride? Was she carrying anything?" his tablet was open and ready to take note of what Mang Andong would say. He was also taping their conversation, so he could review it later.

Mang Andong was quiet for a moment, thinking. "No, I don't think so. She just said thank you when she first got into the truck and thank you when she got off. She does not seem to have any plans... She saw this coffee shop and asked to be let off here. I dropped her off there," he said, pointing to the open space across the coffee shop.

Rocco looked out across. There is nothing of note on that side of the road.

"Did she ask to be dropped off by the coffee shop particularly?" he asked.

"No... not really... I guess I just assumed. It was early morning, and this coffee shop is popular with the local teenagers. I thought maybe she needed breakfast," he said.

Rocco looked around and realized that Mang Andong was right. It was now getting filled with young people, coming in small groups of two or three.

"Did you see her come into the shop?" he asked.

"Not exactly. When I looked at the side mirror, I saw her crossing the street. And that was it," he said.

Roald was thinking of asking the coffee shop owner later if they saw someone that matched her description come in two days ago.

"I hope you find her... she's so young," Mang Andong said, his face serious, his tone touched with concern.

"I hope so, too, sir," he said. "Thank you for your help," he added, shaking his hand for the second time.

When Mang Andong left, Rocco got out to the front of the coffee shop and surveyed the area. There is nothing of note until he realized that there is a small travel agency three doors away. It is closed at the moment, but it could be worth looking into.

When he got back to his table, the manager of the coffee shop was hovering near it. He had requested to speak to her earlier, but she was not in yet. She is here now.

"My staff said that you were looking for me?" a female human of roughly mid-thirties asked him.

"Yes, I just want to ask some questions. We have reason to believe that she may have stopped here two days ago? She looked like this..." he said to her, handing her the picture of Anza.

She looked at it closely, trying to recall.

"I did not encounter her. I am sure of that. I am good with faces. Approximately, what time did you think she might have come in here?" she asked.

"Around eight to eight thirty a.m.?" he said.

"My assistant may have encountered her. I was on the afternoon shift two days ago. He will not be here until after lunch. You can come back to ask him later," she suggested.

"Thank you, I will do that," he said, nodding.

"Anything else I can help you with?" she asked.

"Ah... what time does that travel agency near here open?" he asked.

"Oh, you mean the Travel Bug? They have been closed for a few months now. They transferred office near the City Hall," she replied.

"Oh, okay... I will check them out. I will return here at one thirty p.m. if that is okay?" he said.

"Sure, see you later," the manager said, smiling at him.

He slid his tablet into his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and left the shop. He walked to the nearby Travel Bug to look at it. The glass doors were filled with faded posters of tourist sites and destinations. A sign that said 'WE TRANSFERRED TO OUR NEW LOCATION' was posted on the wall, a map of the new address included. He took a picture of it. This is where he was going next.

Anza, if she came here, must have looked at the window display. He noticed that the most prominently displayed picture was Batanes island. He realized this might appeal to her poetic soul. For some reason, he felt that he knew where she went. But his objective mind told him not to jump to conclusion. He does not know her very well. Batanes Island might not meet her standards. She's a girl who grew up in comfort and luxury.

He walked to the travel agency's new location, a mere four blocks away from their old one. But his interview with the people in the agency yielded nothing. It seemed that she did not go there at all.

He spent that morning walking around the area. He doubts that Anza would take up residence here. It is too close to the lodge. If she had wanted to disappear like she said in her letter, she would go somewhere else. The city is just her jump off point.

He asked some locals he encountered along the street where the bus station was, and they directed him to it. As it turns out, it was another couple of blocks away. He noted the various destinations that the bus company services, and he felt his spirit sink. She could be anywhere.

He interviewed the ticket officer to see if he remembered selling a ticket to Anza, but the man was positive that he had never encountered her. He was even kind enough to call in the bus drivers and their conductors to see if they saw her on any of their trips, and no one had seen her. Of course, it does not mean that she took none of the bus trips, maybe they just don't remember seeing her.

"Maybe she went to Batanes," the ticket officer said out of the blue, making his heart jump.

"How do you get to the island from here?" he asked.

"You fly. There is no other way," the ticket officer replied, shrugging. He left him to attend to the line of ticket buyers that have accumulated during their discussion.

He decided to walk back to the coffee shop, to have lunch there and wait for the assistant manager. He would need the consent from Anza's parents to secure flight information if she flew to Batanes. The airlines would never give it to him.

The coffee shop was full of diners when he returned. The manager saw him as he entered and welcomed him warmly.

"You're back. My assistant is arriving in half an hour. Will you have lunch while you wait?" she asked, a slight smile on her face.

"Yeah, that is the plan," he said, smiling back at her.

"Good. Thank you for contributing to our local economy," she jested. She looked around for a second and found him a seat in the shop's corner. He ordered coffee and a meat pie. Forty-five minutes later, the manager brought the assistant over and introduced him. He was a younger man, older than him, with a pleasant, round face.

"Mr. Albareda, this is my assistant. Clyde, Mr. Albareda wanted to talk to you about her cousin. He is looking for her and was wondering if she came here during your shift two days ago?" she said in a manner of introduction.

He shook the man's hand, and they all sat down together on his table. He showed Clyde the picture of Anza, who looked at it closely, his brows knitted together.

"I think she came in here, and bought a bottle of water," he drawled. The information raised his hopes.

"Did she say anything? Mention anything at all?" he asked, mentally crossing his fingers.

"Not to me. I think she spoke to the guard briefly before she left. I think she was asking for direction," Clyde said.

"Can I speak to your guard?" he asked, almost impatiently.

"Sure, let me call him over," he raised his hand and beckoned the guard over, who did immediately.

"Yes, sir?" the guard inclined his head respectfully to Clyde.

"Manong, do you remember this girl? She was here two days ago?" Clyde showed him the picture of Anza.

"Oh yes, I remember. She asked me where the airport was, and how to get there," he replied.

He heaved a sigh of relief. That was a solid lead.

"Did she say anything else, sir?" he asked, wanting to make sure. The guard shook his head.

With a thank you, he left them and hurried to the airport. He knows where it is. Half an hour later, he was in a queue at the ticketing office. As expected, the airline staff would not divulge details of Anza's flight. He expected it, but it was still frustrating. He would lose some time to secure the affidavits required.

He tried one last time to get the cooperation of the counter staff. A female human who, he realized, was flirting with him. He gave her his best smile, as he pleaded his case. She shook her head regretfully.

"I really can't, it's company policy. Besides, Mr. Albareda, she would have needed a written consent form from an adult to book her flight. She's a minor," she said.

"Is there any other way that she could have gotten a seat without the consent form?" he persisted. He is so sure in his gut that Anza took this route. She would not travel by bus anywhere. Her sense of adventure would not be that sharp.

"Hmm, well, if she booked through a travel agency, then we can only check her in. And the only thing we would require during check in is her ID," she said, helpfully, her smile full of meaning.

"Where is the closest travel agency?" he asked her, his own smile conspiratorial. Hers widened with pleasure.

"There are three in the building next door," she replied. "Try the first one on the left," she added helpfully.

He took her hand and kissed it in gratitude. She coyly pushed her hair behind her ear, looking up at him from behind her lashes. For a moment, he felt thankful for the genes he inherited from his parents, wherever they are. Being decent-looking has benefits.

He rushed to the building next door and went to the one the ticket officer hinted at. He got lucky. He encountered the woman that made Anza's booking. He was right. She went to Batanes Island. She was lucky to have caught that day's flight by chance. He booked himself a flight for the following day. He was fortunate that the low season made it possible for him to secure a seat, as the flights to the island were limited to three times a week. The travel agent said that during peak periods, all the seats were usually booked to capacity for weeks.

With a satisfied sigh, he contacted Anza's father to inform him where he was going. It took him a few minutes to pacify him and convince him not to fly to Batanes as he does not know yet exactly where she is. And she might just bolt again.

He took a room in an inn close to the airport. And spent the rest of the day reviewing the files of Anza. He needs every information that he can find about her. His mission required that he approached her incognito. She cannot know that he is an Iztari. Based on what he found out about her, she can be willful. Her father did not want her to be forcibly returned to the family. She might just run away again, never to be found.

***

Anza looked around at her rented Airbnb room. She really liked it here, but she would have to leave this place, find a cheaper accommodation, and a job. She was lucky to have withdrawn cash from her ATM two days ago, and she is reluctant to do so here. Her father might trace her through her credit card and ATM use, so paying in cash is the way to go. She needs to find a job before she runs out of cash.

She misses her father and stepmother. And she feels bad for ruining their annual holiday. She is sure that by now, her parents are frantic. And she is sure that the Iztaris have already been deployed to look for her. Hopefully, she has covered her tracks well enough. She hopes that when they eventually find her; she has settled in and has a good job to convince her father that she can live on her own, so he would allow her to live on her own, to leave her behind when they Transit.

With a heavy heart, she picked up her backpack. Another day of looking for a job. A glance in the mirror startled her, her new look still unfamiliar to her. She had her hair dyed, cut, and styled yesterday. The negative feedback from the jobs she applied to were mostly because she looked young. No one wanted to accept her because she is too young. Today, with her new hairstyle and the full make-up, she looked older. Hopefully, her new look will also help hide her from the Iztaris. On her itinerary today: quick breakfast first, then an entire day of job hunting.

Four hours later, she was demoralized, tired, and unsuccessful. She did not have any experience, and cannot provide any references from any of the locals. They gave her pitying looks, advice to focus on her studies, and sent her off.

Her footsteps heavy, her heart a leaden weight, she sat down on a chair outside of a small, local eatery. She's hungry, thirsty, and close to tears. A pubescent girl approached her with a laminated menu.

"Miss, what would you like to order?" she asked, barely glancing at her, her focus on the small pad of paper in her hand, her pen poised to write.

She took a deep breath to steady her emotions and glanced at the menu. She had scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast, and that was not adequate fuel for all the walking that she did this morning. She ordered noodles, and an extra boiled egg for protein. She must start learning to live simply, eat simply until she can afford it.

Her food arrived shortly, served hot by the same girl. She also placed a glass of light brown liquid on her table.

"I didn't order this..." she began. She wanted to keep to her budget, to stretch her cash as far as she can go.

"It's free with every order. It's house iced tea," the girl informed her dispassionately.

She mumbled her thanks, feeling slightly overwhelmed by a stroke of good fortune, and a wave of self-pity followed. Her chest tightened as she tried to control the expanding pain. Hot tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She breathed deep and ate.

She tucked into her noodles quietly, tears running down her cheeks uncontrollably. It was hard to chew when her jaw was taut in trying to keep her sobs in. She was thankful that the noodles, aided by the broth, just slid down her throat without the need for chewing. She feels truly alone, in a situation that she made for herself, one she still believes she needed to do.

The hot broth warmed her stomach, soothing even her throbbing heart, fortifying her. She took a deep, shuddering breath. She wiped the tears on her face with her hands, resolved to continue her search for a job. She forced herself to finish her noodles and the egg. Her appetite left her two spoonful ago, but she needed to eat and do not want to waste food. She has the rest of the afternoon to accomplish her immediate goal. She needed the fuel.

With renewed faith in herself, she considered what her new strategy will be. This time she needs to find a reference, and she has an idea who she can approach. A quick glance in her hand mirror told her she needed to fix her face. Her mascara is smudged and her tears created clear tracks on her cheeks. She did not know how to do it here without her kit, so she decided to wash her face clean at the ladies' room.

Fresh-faced and determined, she went back to her Airbnb. She needs the homeowner's help. Hopefully, she will be generous enough to extend her a hand.

***

Rocco needed something to perk him up. His flight was not a very pleasant experience. It was delayed for two hours, and the voyage itself was very bumpy. He lost time and his temper is roused. To put himself on a better frame of mind, he decided to eat first. There is no use fuming about the lost morning, all he can do is to catch up in the afternoon.

The outdoor seating in the coffee shop provided an ambience that suited this place and his need for a calming influence. He sat outside to drink his coffee. He was savoring the first sip when he noticed a young woman across the street. He watched her walk to the local eatery across the street, her shoulders slumped, her posture telegraphing defeat and misery. And it called out to some part of him.

He averted his eyes to shake away the answering feeling in him. He has no time to feel sorry about a stranger; he has a job to do, and he needs to focus. Finding his target might take more than the time he has on his hands, and he does not want to fail.

But he found himself drawn to the woman. He could see that she was very upset. Her shoulder length hair cannot hide the fact she was crying as she was hunched over her bowl of noodles. He could see the tears glistening on her cheeks, the struggle in her as she tried to control her shoulders from shaking. And he felt his heart contract in sympathy.

He wished, for a moment, his quarry, Anza Soledad is as evocative as this unknown woman across the street. Fascinated, he saw her pull herself together, wipe her tears. Her spine straightened, her deep indrawn breath as she fortified her courage. And he cannot help but admire the way she recovered so quickly from whatever devastation she had suffered earlier.

She stood up and went into the local eatery, and he waited patiently for her to come out again. For a second, he was afraid that there was a backdoor, and she went out that way, but when she came out, his heart stopped. Her face wiped clean, her hair tied in a ponytail, he recognized who his crying lady is - Anza Soledad. His prey.

A thrill of satisfaction ran through him. He found her. He jumped up and followed her as she crossed the street. He kept a decent distance between them, but making sure that she is always within sight.

Her eventual destination was an inn that looked like a renovated ancestral home. She walked into the lobby with purpose. The staff seemed to recognize her, their smiles welcoming. He saw her sit on the couch. She looked like she was waiting for someone. He did not want to book a room here until he is sure that she is staying here. He took a brochure, sat on one of the couch and pretended to peruse the material.

Then an idea struck him. He turned to her with a slight smile.

"Miss, are you staying here? How are the rooms?" he asked. He kept his tone and facial expression friendly. He did not want to appear weird.

She nodded. "It's nice here. Clean, secure, and they are friendly," she replied. He noticed that she did not verbally confirm if she was staying here. Her parents trained her well. If he did not know that she was new in Batanes, that she just came here three days ago, her answer would not have indicated that she is a guest in this inn.

An older woman came out from behind the reception counter and drew Anza's attention. He followed her gaze and saw the staff point at Anza. The woman smiled from a distance and beckoned Anza over. She stood up and walked over. He followed her on the pretext of inquiring for a room.

"Anza, hija, what can I do for you?" the older woman asked pleasantly.

"I have a favor to ask, Mrs. Bassig," she said.

The older woman looked mildly surprised, but smiled just the same. She invited Anza to her office. She complied and followed Mrs. Bassig as she went to the room behind the reception desk.

He made the decision and booked himself a room in this place. The only way for Anza to know the manager of this inn is because she is staying here. He took his time filling up the registration form. And when he got his key and Anza has not come out yet from the office, he asked the front desk staff for tourist site suggestions.

With the tourism brochures on hand, he stood by the counter and made a show of studying them carefully.

Anza came out of the office with a relieved expression on her face. She was thanking Mrs. Bassig profusely.

"So, when do you want to start, Anza?" the older woman asked.

"It's up to you, Mrs. Bassig, but I am ready to start anytime," she replied.

"Why don't you check out the place that I recommended to you first? Get yourself settled and then we can start your training on Monday. Iza, the one you will replace, will not be available to train you till then," Mrs. Bassig said.

"Okay, Mrs. Bassig. I am grateful. I don't know how to thank you," Anza said, her eyes tearing up.

"Do your best, Anza, that will be the thank you I want," Mrs. Bassig said, and with an affectionate pat on her shoulder, the older woman left Anza.

"Congratulations!" he said softly, startling her.

"Excuse me?" she asked, confusion on her face.

"It looks like you got the job..." he said, pointing back toward the reception area. At her continued confusion, "Sorry, I cannot help but overhear. I was checking in," he said, by way of explanation.

"Oh... yes. I did," she replied. The relief that she felt for getting the job still colored her tone.

"Well, I took your recommendation and got a room here, so, thank you," he said.

"You're welcome. How long are you staying?" she asked.

"I do not know yet," he said. It was the truth.

"Long holiday?" she asked.

"Yes, maybe," he replied. "How about you?" he asked, turning the tables on her. He wanted to keep his lies to her to a minimum.

She just gave him a sad little smile. He saw the spark of fear and determination in her eyes. His own reaction to it took him by surprise.

"So, I'll see you around?" she asked, but her tone carried no expectation. She was being polite.

"Yes, definitely. Hopefully, this afternoon?" he said, turning on the charm now, his smile keen.

"This afternoon?" she asked. Her tone changed a shade.

"Yes, I would like to invite you for coffee? For helping me decide on my accommodation," he said, his smile deepening.

"Ah... I am not sure. I need to check out a place that Mrs. Bassig recommended to me," she said, reluctant and regretful at the same time.

"Can I come with you?... I have nothing on my calendar," he asked. And when she did not respond, "It's better than walking alone... I can be your bodyguard," he offered, cajoling.

She gave him a shy smile, and nodded. "Okay."

He could not stop his obvious delight at her response. "So, what time are we leaving?"

"I was thinking of doing that now," she said.

"Well then, let's go," he said, touching her elbow.

She threw him a wondering glance. He can see that her cautious side is warring with her need to socialize. He gave her a reassuring, friendly smile.