The Keeper

PROLOGUE

It has been told that Prometheus, the creator of all creatures on earth, gave life to two types of being in the likeness of the gods.

The first was the humans who he moulded from clay and earth. He gave them fire as a gift. This generosity infuriated Zeus. He bound Prometheus at Mount Caucasus where the latter’s punishment was to have his liver eaten every day by a giant eagle, another titan named Aetos. The liver would regrow every night, and the torturous cycle was to be for thirty thousand years.

Prometheus, legend said, created a pair of second beings as his companions during his suffering. They were not just made in the image of the gods, but from its true essence.

Prometheus added a piece of his liver to the soil and rocks he used to fashion the new creatures, thus bestowing them with superhuman strength, speed, slow aging, and super senses. He also gave them the power to shape shift into animals to enable them to hide from Zeus.

However, he was unaware that the saliva of Aetos tainted a portion of the liver. And his second creation inherited the need to consume viscera.

He called them Viscerebus, or viscera-eaters.

Once Prometheus was free, he bid the Viscerebus to live among humans. Thus, begun the conflict between the two.

The Viscerebus hunted the humans for their viscera, and the humans hunted them back for survival.

For decades, they were locked in a fierce battle for supremacy. The Viscerebus were stronger, faster, and more powerful, but the humans had centuries of head start in population. They outnumbered the Viscerebus, and it shifted the balance of power.

To protect their own, the Viscerebi formed a Tribunal and engineered a system that ensured the survival of their kind.

They set up a process of procuring fresh viscera without the need to kill humans; the distribution of the victus to their kind to stop them from hunting humans; and the campaign to convince the humans that the Viscerebi were creatures of lore.

They perfected the strategy for millennia, and the Viscerebi thrived, hidden in plain sight among human societies all over the world.

Their success hinged on keeping the Veil of Secrecy intact—the hiding of their existence from the humans at all costs.

But like air, secrets could only be contained through insulation. And like all insulation, it would never be permanent.

When two different beings coexist, their imperfections could create either conflict or cohesion.

1 ASWANG, ERDIA AND HUMAN

Veren stood in the middle of the forest. He breathed deep, trying to pick up the scent of the wild boar he heard foraging. The thick foliage overhead filtered the remaining sunlight, making the forest darker but not dark enough to trigger his night vision.

A breeze blew by him. It carried the smell of the trees, the rotting leaves, the decaying fruits on the forest floor, and the musky odour of the boar. He scanned the direction of the scent until he saw movement two hundred meters away. The animal was digging for something by the roots of the banyan trees. 

Veren looked around to see if any of his fellow cadets were close to his location. He centred his senses, listening for human voices, and smelling for them. He could not detect any. With his gun slung behind him to keep his hands free, he lowered his centre of gravity and sprinted towards the unsuspecting boar; the wind whizzed past his ears, the wet squish of the leaves on the ground muffling the sound of his feet.

His speed was too much for the boar. It was a mere split second before the animal realised he was coming. It lifted its head from the ground just before it found itself raised by the hind legs. He swung the boar against the tree trunk, crushing its skull with the force of the blow.

He crouched down and inspected his kill. 

Oh, damn… I shattered one tusk. 

With a sigh, he took out his handgun and shot the dead boar in the head where the tree had done the most damage. It would be hard to explain to his superior the true cause of its death otherwise. It required tremendous strength to shatter a pig’s cranium. A gunshot would be the easiest way to avoid questions.

Inherent caution coloured all of his interactions with humans, just as it did with every single one of his kind. By nature, his kind avoid any potential exposure to their existence. There was no need to alarm the humans and create suspicion.

As he walked back to their camp in the woods, the dead boar slung over his shoulder, he encountered some human hunters along the way. He avoided crossing paths with them. It was easy enough, as he could hear them and their heavy treads on the forest floor. He found himself replying to their conversation in his head.

"I think we should hunt close to that military encampment," one human male said to his companions. There were three of them.

"Why? There are no bandits in these woods."

"Yeah, maybe not, but I heard there are Aswangs."

Yes. There is. Me, he thought.

"Well, we have guns."

"I am not sure if guns can kill Aswangs …"

Sure they can, if you pump enough bullets in us and we bleed to death before our ability to heal and regenerate catches up.

"Well, what do you think those military men carry as weapons? Guns. And I’m sure they don’t use silver bullets."

It was funny how humans had melded one tale of legend into another. For most people, their legends were part of old beliefs, stories passed on through generations and told to scare children. Not one of those tales was accurate.

"I can’t believe you still believe in Aswangs … In this day and age, we would have heard of attacks on humans. We all know what they’re after."

To hide their existence, and their need for human viscera, the Tribunal had perfected a system of securing much-needed organs without having to kill any humans. Veren believed that it was pure genius to operate most of the funeral parlours, morgues, and mortuaries all over the world. It gave Aswangs access to fresh viscera without the humans’ knowledge. The process became seamless over centuries of experience. 

Yeah, not to mention that our military would definitely go after them if they attacked humans. They like nothing better but a reason to kill.

Yes, I agree. And it would be catastrophic to our kind.

Thinking about what the Tribunal did for him, how they took care of him, never failed to make his heart swell with gratitude, Veren’s vow to serve the community that nurtured him remained his driving goal. And his path to that goal was to become an Iztari. 

Nothing could be nobler than protecting his kind from the peril that surrounded them all within the human communities. It was a necessity to be in proximity to them, as their need for human viscera was critical to their daily survival.

Military academies all over the world were the natural training grounds for people like him who desired to belong to their elite law enforcement. There were always a few of his kind who graduated every year. Several staffs in the Academy were Aswangs, including the Commandant, who took care of supplying them with raw human viscera every three days. 

"It’s creepy enough in these woods. Stop your horror stories or we’ll be too scared to hunt later."

The words of the hunters faded into the distance.

As he walked back to rejoin his troop, his thoughts replayed the discussion other Aswangs in the Academy were engaged in last night. There was no one in his class to discuss his opinions with. He was the only Aswang there, and he was not close with anyone in the lower and upper classes. 

Some of his kind favoured surfacing and showing their might and ruling over the humans. In his opinion, to play on the humans’ fear of Aswangs, scare them into submission, offered limited value. Fear could be a powerful deterrent, but it tended to wane in potency given enough time. History was littered with toppled governments through revolutions orchestrated by terrified people. 

The Viscerebus might be stronger, faster, and superior to the humans, but at the odds of thirty to one, even their superior traits could not survive an attack, whether in retaliation or fear. Humans had the numbers and weapons to kill them. 

They were safer if they remained hidden in plain sight, unnoticed by the humans and thought of only as a relic of a superstitious past. 

Humans were less likely to attack an enemy they did not believe to exist.

Manila, same time, same day.

Anza watched her classmates giggle over selfies with the boys they met at the mall during the weekend. They were on their midday break, waiting for the next class to start. The thought of the boys waiting in the parking lot later excited the three girls. They talked about hanging out with them at the Cosy Café located across the street from the main gate of their school. 

The tall and slim Elyse, half-Filipino and half-German, led the girls. The other two were attractive and stylish: Rizzi with her mixed Arabian blood, and Summer’s half Chinese heritage. All three were popular and fit the mould of archetypal it-girls. But what really made them unique was they were not mean, hurtful, or selfish, as one might assume. 

On the surface, Anza fit the group well. She was petite, slim, and had been told multiple times that she was attractive. She preferred to think these girls wanted her in their group because she tried to match their kindness whenever she could, to compensate for every time she rejected their invitation to go out, and not for her looks. 

She wanted to be friends with them, but her father and the laws of the Viscerebus Tribunal would not allow it.

Anza, come with us. They will bring their friend with them. He’s interested in meeting you, Elyse prodded her. He’s also into music and photography, she added with a smile. 

Interested in me? How does he know about me? She had been very careful not to get her pictures on any social media. 

I posted our year-end class photos on my Instagram. He saw it and asked Kirk for an introduction to you, Elyse replied casually. 

For her classmates, this was commonplace. Nothing to worry about. For her kind, it was always a concern. It was a footprint to be erased, a snapshot of time that could come back to haunt a slow-ageing Aswang. It shouldn’t have been an issue for her, because she would age just like a normal human, but she grew up trained in the same rules as her family. It became a habit for her. 

I’m not sure … My dad won’t like it. Her usual alibi was a hundred per cent true. 

Well, they’re arriving twenty minutes early, so come with us and chat with them, Elyse implored. You can leave once your father arrives. Please … 

All three girls begged her to say yes. It would be embarrassing to say no, and the temptation to give in was strong. 

Okay, she said with a nod. 

Great! Elyse jumped up from her seat and gave her a quick hug. 

She must like that Kirk guy a lot for her to be that excited to make me say yes.

As she watched the three girls chat about their weekend activities, a sense of envy pierced her heart. She wanted to join them. Just once. They asked her every time, and she kept saying no. It was a wonder that they hadn’t given up on being nice to her. 

Maybe being seatmates helped. She sat behind Elyse, and whenever the trio chatted with each other, she was within hearing range. It was convenient and natural for Elyse to include her in the conversation. As Elyse was the leader of the three, Rizzi and Summer accepted and followed her example. 

Two hours later, as she put her things away, she debated whether to tell her father about the early class dismissal today. This meant she wouldn’t have to talk to the guy, but Elyse interrupted her thoughts. 

Are you nervous, Anza? Her smile was gentle and concerned. 

She nodded. A little.

Why? You’re very pretty. Elyse sounded surprised as she looked her over from head to foot. 

It’s not my looks that worry me, she began, but Rizzi interjected. 

Anza, with your baby-doll looks, just bat those lashes and you’ll have the poor guy eating out of your hand. Rizzi giggled at her own statement.

Or, you can jam with him. We heard he’s a sucker for girls who can sing, Summer added. 

Elyse and Rizzi smiled in agreement. 

Her classmates misunderstood the source of her reluctance. They didn’t know that meeting the boy, no matter how much she liked him after, would never lead to anything. It would be a pointless exercise.

And apart from being forbidden to tell them the truth, they would not believe her even if she broke the Veil of Secrecy. They would think her crazy if she told them her entire family was Aswang.

That afternoon, for forty minutes, she had a sample of the life she would lead if she inhabited her human heritage. The boy, Mark, was good-looking, charming, and endearingly nervous. 

The girls flirted with the boys, laughed at jokes, shared some drinks, and assured that they would see each other again during the coming weekends—the simple joys of connecting with people her age. It was fun, enriching … and in principle, harmless.

She left them reluctantly. She wanted to stay longer. Not so much because of Mark, but she felt greedy for the moments shared with humans. She had seen what her life could be if her parents allowed her to live the life that her humanity could afford her. She didn’t have the long life her parents enjoyed, but they didn’t seem to realise this.

Her family was due for Transit soon. This meant they would move somewhere far away and new. She would have to go to a new school, meet new people, but couldn’t make friends with any of them. And that would repeat in another twenty-five years. 

Her life with her family was destined to be limited and lonely, with no one but her parents, uncles, aunts, and cousins as contributors to her experience. She would never fulfil her full potential. She could never have her photos published, her songs sung in airwaves, her poetry read. Just like the contents of her social media, it would just be for her own eyes, like a digital diary. 

And this grieved her—the premature death of her potential, the wasting of her life. 

Manuu Soledad, the head of his household, came home from a meeting with the Matriarch and the Patriarch of their Gentem’s Tribunal. 

They discussed the logistics of the Transit of Manuu’s family, which comprised his daughter and wife. 

Normally, this would be a simple arrangement if it just involved his immediate family. But his wife’s family, whom they had gotten very close to during the past twelve years, wanted to join them. That required a more extensive logistical setup. 

One small family moving into a new community would be unnoticed, but three moving to the same place at the same time would attract attention. The local Tribunal decided they could all move to Auckland together, provided they would not live in the same community. Their homes would have to be at least four kilometres apart. At least for the first five years. 

For the Viscerebus, a Transit was a normal part of existence. It was a requirement that they go through every twenty to thirty years, to hide their slow-ageing and longevity. The humans would notice, otherwise. 

He was glad the rest of the family would Transit with them for the sake of his only daughter, Anza. This was to be her first, and it would be difficult for a teenager like her to cut ties from all her human friends and classmates, to leave behind everything connected to her life in the Philippines. 

To have someone close to her age, like her cousin Xandrei, who was so fond of her, would make the process easier on his beloved daughter. She had been quiet and withdrawn for the past few months, especially since the day he did not permit her to attend her school fair. He knew then that she was missing the company of young people. 

As his car passed along the coastal road, he thought of the house that he bought in Auckland Bay. His Anza would love it. It offered plenty of photo-worthy scenes. His daughter’s poetic soul would appreciate the scenery and the view. 

At least, Anza would not have to get used to a new name and identity.