Now, Northern Philippines

Ginessa stared at the map laid out on the table in front of her.

She felt the heat rising to her face.

What had the mean-faced woman asked her again?

“Um… I’m sorry, but what?”

“The aswang village. Where is it? Point… on the map.”

The woman spoke to her as if she were a child.

She shrank back from the woman’s glare.

“Ease up, Demi,” Cal said.

Ginessa realized that she had no idea how to read a map. “Are you going to take me back there?” she said in a small voice to the man standing next to her. Her savior, Cal.

He looked confused for a moment. Then he smiled. Ginessa felt palpable kindness radiate from him. It had been so long that it took her a few moments to realize it.

“Of course not,” Cal said.

“But you freed me for information and…” she said.

“You don’t know how to read maps?” Cal said.

“Makes sense, you look like you were what? Eight? When the spires showed up.” A tall woman in strange-looking armor said from the other side of the table.

Ginessa couldn’t answer.

The woman radiated danger.

“I’m not comfortable with her physically leading us to the village, Cruces. She said that this Gabunan has some kind of hook in her mind.”

“He’ll know we’re coming if we bring the beauty queen,” the third woman in the room finally uttered words.

“Ginessa’s not doing that. We have a deal,” Cal said.

“I can show you, I mean, take you as close as I can and stop if I feel the Elder inside me.” Ginessa had a sudden surge of inspiration. “The day! If I take you during the day then it’ll be fine! We don’t have most of our abilities when the sun is out!”

The three women and one man exchanged looks.

Cal sighed. “We’re attacking at night.”

“But… why?” Ginessa couldn’t believe it. Was she wrong about him? About this? Were these people insane?

Cal held up a hand. “It’s a leveling thing,” he shrugged. “To be honest, I’d just as soon wipe the aswangs out myself if what the people in town are saying is true about the kidnapping and eating people thing…”

It took a second for Ginessa to realize what the expectant look on Cal’s face meant. She nodded furiously. “Yes… yes. It’s all true.”

“So,” the armored woman stared at her with an expressionless gaze, “you partook?”

“I— I had no choice.” Ginessa kept her eyes on the floor.

“C’mon, Hanna,” Cal began, “they made her drink the blood and she never actually murdered anyone. Not to mention that the Gabunan forced this change, this Class on her. Plenty of mitigating circumstances and she’s agreed to help us as a start in making amends for all the aswangs’ victims.”

“And you just happen to know all this for a fact?” Hanna said.

Cal merely nodded.

“Fine… it’s your call, but I’m keeping my eyes on her.”

“Thanks, Hanna,” Cal said.

“Great. That’s all nice and heartwarming, but we’ve still got an intel problem if she can’t show us where the village is on the map,” the third woman said.

“Sgt. Butcher is right,” Demi said. “We’re not going into the rainforest after a village of bloodsucking shapechangers unless we know exactly where they are.”

“There’s another way,” Cal said.

Ginessa heard the reluctance in his voice.

“Okay. What?” Demi spread her hands out.

“You all have to leave the room,” Cal said.

The three women looked at one another.

Sgt. Butcher’s face was an impassive mask.

Hanna shrugged.

“Fine.” Demi let out a long breath. “Good to know that you’re just as frustrating to deal with as always, Cruces,” she said in passing as she headed to the door.

“You know what they say… people don’t really change who they are at their core,” Cal said.

The other two women followed Demi.

Ginessa turned to leave.

“Wait. Not you.”

Ginessa felt a spike of fear stab through her chest.

Was this it?

Did she screw up her chance at freedom?

Was Cal going to take her back to her cage?

His gaze softened.

“With your consent I have a solution to our problem,” Cal said. “I promise I won’t harm you or violate your privacy.”

Ginessa frowned.

This was weird and creepy.

Cal sighed. “All you have to do is think of how to get to the village from here. That’s it. Just visualize walking from this house, through the forest, to the village… and maybe around it. Then inside, if you can try to go through the entire place. Every house, hut, or whatever. Secret tunnels, if those are a thing, don’t skip anything.”

“O— Okay,” Ginessa said after a long, uncomfortable silence.

She did as instructed.

It was difficult at first to focus on what Cal wanted her to imagine.

Unbidden thoughts continued to flow into her mind and stubbornly refused to release their hooks.

Dark thoughts.

Memories of the Elder giving her the ‘gift’ of the Aswang: Mandurugo Class, even as her parents begged him to take them in her place.

Memories of what came next—

Vanished instantly.

Her parents… what she was forced to—

Pushed away again more forcefully this time.

Memories of the years in the village and the evils she had been forced to witness and be a part of.

The wondrous taste of blood. Oh, how she hated herself for finding it so.

Memories flowed like a swift river.

To her capture and the cage beneath a decrepit church and an equally deficient priest.

Time measured in months.

A different kind of torture, but one she deserved?

She had prayed to God for deliverance from the aswang village.

And he had taken her to more suffering.

But it was right and just for she had done evil.

Her very existence was evil.

How could she be anything else when she required the blood of murder to survive?

The thought fled her mind as if chased away.

She felt sudden clarity and a measure of peace.

For the first time in— she couldn’t remember.

She began to imagine walking out of the room.

Down the street.

Until paved road turned into dirt.

She left the road and waded into a rice paddy and continued straight into the rainforest.

There were no discernible trails through the dense undergrowth.

She walked through it with ease.

Time seemed to lose all sense of meaning.

Minutes. Hours. Days.

She couldn’t say how long it took before she finally reached the clearing carved out of the middle of the rainforest.

The village was encircled by a stout wood wall. Between that and the aswangs’ abilities most monsters steered clear. Human blood was preferred, but monsters served well enough.

She entered the village and continued the tour just as Cal had asked.

Stray thoughts threatened to interrupt, but something kept them away.

When she finally opened her eyes she felt strangely drained, but her heart felt lighter than it had since before everything.

“What happened?” she said.

“I think you need therapy,” Cal smiled at her.

She saw pain in his eyes. Could feel it around him.

“I imagine most people in the post-spires world could do with that,” Cal said. “Thank you. You’ve more than fulfilled that part of our deal. Now, we just have to find a safe place for you while we do this Quest.”

The door opened.

It was Hanna. “You didn’t say anything about her being a prisoner.”

“She wasn’t,” Cal said. “There was nothing legal or ethical about what they did to her.”

“Well, whatever. There’s a mob out there and they want her back,” Hanna said.

“Of course there is,” Cal took a deep breath. “Please keep Ginessa safe. I’ll deal with the rabble.”

Cal didn’t have time to get his armor, so when he landed in front of the mob he was only in jeans and a t-shirt.

“You didn’t have to interrupt your planning session, Anak. I’ve got this handled,” his father said.

“Maybe,” Cal admitted as he took in the scene.

A handful of men and women were laid out on the asphalt.

Some were unconscious.

Others groaned as they tried and failed to get to their feet.

Finger tip-sized knots were already formed on their heads.

“Just a light tap,” his father said.

The rest of the mob, nearly a hundred strong, milled around on the other side of their downed comrades.

Fear and anger, near hatred, assaulted Cal’s other senses.

He looked back and noticed that 13th Squad, Rayna’s Rangers, had taken up defensive positions at the first set of abandoned homes they had claimed as a temporary base.

“What a mess,” Cal muttered.

“Yeah. They want that girl you brought back. Said a lot of things. Unpleasant things,” his dad’s eyes went hard.

Cal followed them to a priest.

Or was that Priest?

He recognized the man from Ginessa’s memories.

“I see the problem,” he said. “I’ll disperse this.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Cal stalked straight to the priest.

“Holy Barrier!” the priest shrieked.

A yellow dome suddenly sprang to life over him, violently knocking those closest to him to the ground.

“A Class then. Well, the spires could never be accused of having class,” Cal smirked.

The priest merely stared at him with with eyes.

In fact, no one laughed.

Cal shook his head. “Well… I already know why you’re here, but you might as well tell me. Straight from the horse’s ass… as the saying goes.”

Silence.

“Okay… I said that wrong. No one knew that was wrong? I find that hard to believe.”

“You speak with Satan’s tongue, vile sinner, consorting with Satan’s whore,” the priest spat.

“Still not hearing why you’ve got a poorly armed and poorly leveled mob out here,” Cal sniffed. “Don’t see any real fighters or soldiers.” He scanned the crowd and immediately amended that in his head. There was one and he recognized the man. “C’mon, fake priest. It’s a simple question. Why are you here?” he enunciated the last sentence with deliberate care.

“Sinner! Relinquish Satan’s whore and I will pray for God to forgive you,” the priest said, “though, I see the marks of the Devil in your soul and you are destined for Hell… I will still try as is my holy charge.”

“Right… pretty much exactly what I expected.”

Cal stepped up to the glowing yellow barrier and laid a hand on it.

Telekinetic force shattered it like a stained glass window.

He grabbed the front of the priest’s robe before the man could utter a word.

The mob screamed as they scattered back down the road.

Cal held the priest off the ground. “You even wore your finest robes. What is it with robes and lynching? What makes them go together? Don’t answer that. It’s not important.” He regarded the priest. The man stank of sweat, liquor and bacon. The robes were stained, threadbare and torn. Nothing about the priest inspired any sort of holiness. “I guess beggars can’t be choosers. You’re probably the only priest the town’s got. I’m going to make this quick. Ginessa is free. And you better change your ways and pray really hard that I don’t come back for you,” he pulled the priest in closer until he was nose to nose with the man, “actually, I’ll come back one day to make sure. You better hope you’ve done enough amending for your many sins by then.”

Cal dropped the man.

“You, soldier,” Cal pointed at the one remaining person standing in the road while the priest ran back to town. “I don’t like torture. It’s a good thing for you that you seem to share that same thought. Cristos, right?”

“She told you.”

Cal didn’t say a word.

“The Datu isn’t pleased that you freed the aswang,” Cristos said.

“Yeah, well, don’t care. He wants the village dealt with. Ginessa will provide valuable intel for that.”

“She’s our prisoner.”

“There was no trial. You just stuck her in a cage.”

“She’s a monster. Not human.”

“It’s a Class. You’ve got one. Are you no longer a human?”

“It’s different and you know it,” Cristos said.

Cal had to give it to the man. Calm and collected. He didn’t detect much in the way of fear.

“Disagree,” Cal shrugged. “Tell the councilman that Ginessa’s freedom is part of our deal.”

“The Datu isn’t pleased with this underhanded action,” Cristos said.

“Vehicles, fuel and access to purchase supplies. In exchange, we destroy the aswang village,” Cal said. “Stick to it and you free your people from nightly terror. Is your datu willing to jeopardize that for one unjustly imprisoned young woman? What would your people do if they found out?”

“I’ll tell him what you said.” Cristos turned.

Cal’s dad waited until the soldier was a speck in the distance before speaking. “That guy was ice cold.”

“Special forces soldier when there was still an army. Has it as his Class,” Cal said.

Cal’s dad raised a brow.

“I did a surface scan. Had to know what sort of potential threat I faced.”

“Are we going to have problems getting what we’re owed?” his dad said.

“Oh no, not at all. They aren’t strong enough to deny us what they promised,” Cal said. “Don’t worry, I can get the stuff in a relatively bloodless way… if necessary,” he said at the troubled expression on his dad’s face.

----------------------------------------

Incessant knocking on his door made Justino groan as he pushed himself up off his sleeping mat. The heat and humidity of the rainforest already had him sweating despite the early hour.

Waking up was always the same. He felt weak. Less than he should’ve been. It was like wearing dark goggles and noise canceling headphones. He saw less, heard less.

The suns rays peeked through the wooden slats of his small home making him wince with disgust.

Unpleasant was insufficient to describe the feeling. There was a deeper level of loathing that coiled around his insides at the daylight.

The same as always.

He couldn’t wait until night fell.

Unfortunately, he had duties.

He had the hardest job in the village.

Being second in command meant that the daily management role fell on his broad shoulders.

Porfiro, their leader, had more important matters to deal with at least that’s what he told everyone.

Justino knew that the old man hated the day more than anyone else.

He took the time to tie his long black hair into a ponytail and roughly braid his long beard before answering the door.

“Mr. Justino!” the young man said.

Justino growled, causing the young man to scramble back with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” Justino said. “I’m not a morning person. What is it this time?”

“Mrs. Reyes wants to talk to you about her—”

Again.

Justino waved a hand. “Tell her the answer won’t change just because she pesters me about this once a day.”

“But she’s worri—”

“The Elder won’t give her son the gift until he’s ready and he won’t be until at least five years from now. We have rules here. They must be old enough to accept it of their own free will,” Justino repeated the rote statement.

“She’s worried about how some of the others look at her son at night,” the young man said.

“Mrs. Reyes is new here. Ask her how many of the young ones get so much as a scratch.”

“None,” the young man said.

“Of course. Because we’re all family here and family doesn’t hurt family.”

“Okay, sir. I’ll tell her.”

“Good boy,” Justino patted the young man on the shoulder and sent him on his way.

The rest of the morning went much the same way as it always had.

Justino went through the village making sure that the young ones were, indeed, without a scratch. It had never happened and he meant to keep it that way.

Some of the inhabitants could lose themselves in the night, especially if they didn’t have their meal upon changing. Such people he had made sure to assign homes on the outer edges of the village close to the wooden wall that encircled it. They could get at little… out of control, but he made sure to impress his strength upon the rowdiest to keep them in line.

Porfiro was their unquestioned leader, but he was more of detached grandfather.

Justino was the iron-handed father.

Thus, did he spend the early morning hours.

He adjudicated a dispute between two neighbors over mingling chickens.

There was an angry, but respectful, question concerning the share from the previous night’s haul.

He checked the diesel generators scattered throughout the village.

Mrs. Reyes managed to track him down around midmorning. She had her son with her. The poor boy couldn’t get away from her skirt. She was like a mother hen brooding over her one surviving chick.

Justino tried to keep that in mind as he simply glared at her until she quailed and moved away.

Still, he took the time to ruffle the boy’s perfectly combed hair.

Perhaps it was time to force Mrs. Reyes to cut the cord.

The boy was more than old enough to start training.

As far as Justino was concerned it was never to0 early to learn how to fight. This was truer in the post-spires world than it had ever been in the old days.

Lunch time seemed to come too quickly.

The sun rose high in the sky.

The heat had grown to a truly oppressive nastiness that had Justino discard his thin shirt.

He ate a quick lunch of hard-boiled eggs, fried longonisa, diced tomato and onions, along with a generous helping of rice. He used to love this meal. Now, not so much. The taste was muted. It still filled his belly, which he had learned was important if he wanted more control after nightfall.

Dinner was the only meal that the majority of the village’s inhabitants looked forward to.

The afternoon was much the same as the morning.

Mundane work.

As the sun slowly dipped over the horizon, Justino began to feel more alive. His senses tingled. Energy began to course through his body.

He did one last circuit of the village in the hour before dark to make sure everything was in place and that everyone had what they needed.

With that done he went back to his small home and pulled out the glass of thick, red liquid from the small fridge.

Dinner with the setting sun.

Just like always.

The Justino that emerged a few minutes later was different.

Oh, he looked the same.

A wiry man of indeterminate age with brown skin tanned darker by a lifetime of exposure to the tropical sun. Long black hair and beard no longer tied, but allowed to flow as if a gentle breeze was constantly blowing. He went shirtless and only wore a tattered pair of ancient jean shorts and a pair of flimsy slippers.

The difference was in his demeanor.

His eyes were hungry, always moving, searching. He prowled through the village’s dirt paths. The other people he encountered looked at him with wary eyes, inclining their heads as they got out of his way.

They knew his strength.

They could feel it.

Justino made straight for a thick-walled structure near the center of the village.

A piercing cry echoed from somewhere out in the dark rainforest.

No bird could ever make such a sound.

Justino felt pride.

Their hunters would be back later with more sustenance.

He could hardly wait.

But, for now, he had a more important matter to focus on.

Questions and answers were needed and perhaps a chance to satiate the voice in his head calling for blood.

“Ready for the fun, boss?” Ramon met him at the door. “I can’t wait to bleed these fools!”

Justino regarded the stocky, rough-looking young man.

The smile disappeared from Ramon’s face. “I mean… after we get what we need. Definitely not before then.”

Justino nodded before turning to the second person standing at the door.

The attractive, light-skinned woman’s human appearance was a stark contrast to her true form.

“Fres, shouldn’t you be on the hunt with your group?” Justino said flatly.

“I captured those two in there. I deserve to be one of the first to taste them. After the Elder and you of course,” she inclined her head just enough that it wasn’t disrespectful.

Justino controlled the urge to strike her.

Fres had been one of the biggest thorns in his side. Barely in control of herself, but still she was useful to the village, the strongest among her kind.

“I decide who partakes,” Justino said.

“I don’t care about the Headhunter, but I’ve never had baglan blood.” There was unmistakable hunger in Fres’ face.

Justino realized that she was close to the edge.

“Baglan? I thought the tall one was a babaylan?” Ramon added.

“It’s the same thing, you corpse eater!” Fres snapped.

Ramon averted his eyes. “It’s what we like the best,” he muttered.

“Enough, Fres!” Justino growled. His long hair suddenly fell still.

Perhaps sensing danger Fres fixed her gaze to the ground.

“Depending on how the interrogation goes you can have a taste, but you’ll wait outside. I can’t have you messing this up.”

Justino didn’t bother to wait for a reply. He simply went into the structure and was promptly greeted by the sweet scent of blood and guts.

The interior was one large room with several cages set against the walls with chains dangling from the ceiling.

Spilled blood and other things had been allowed to dry and decay where they fell during prior interrogations. Not only did they make the space pleasant, but they aided in loosening the tongues of the enemy prey.

Two of which occupied separate cages on opposite sides of the room.

“Aswang!” the taller captive hissed.

The young man had been forced to hunch over in the tight confines of the cage. He muttered something under his breath and moved his hands.

“You won’t find any spirits that would obey you on this ground, baglan,” Justino said.

“You fuckers need to stop calling me that, I’m a Shaman!” the young man spat.

“That’s his actual Class. I know it’s all basically the same thing. Different dialects and all, but please be respectful of his identity choices,” the other young man said.

This one was a head shorter than the Shaman. The sides of his head had been shaved, but fuzz had began to grow in his day-long captivity. The long hair on the top of his head was wild. He had probably lost the tie that kept it in place in the fight that had seen them captured.

Justino could sympathize.

A little.

“You’re my enemy. You’d destroy me and everyone I’ve sworn to protect. How many of our heads would you add to your belt given the opportunity?” Justino said. “You’re blood and meat. I see nothing to respect.”

“Yessir, but that’s what happens when you take our people and eat them,” the Headhunter said lightly.

“Will you be as arrogant when I start bleeding you?”

“Why haven’t you started?” the Shaman said. “The manananggal brought us in last night. Why keep us all day and wait till now?”

“I have questions.”

The Headhunter laughed. “Nope. You’re not getting anything. We’re dead anyways. You monsters can get sick on my diseased blood and choke on my especially hard and pointy bones.”

“Yes, your lives are over, but manner of your deaths has yet to be decided,” Justino said.

“Easy or hard, right?” the Shaman said. “We’d just have to betray our people to you monsters to avoid the latter. No deal. Even if you torture us it’ll end eventually. I can deal with that if it keeps my soul clean.”

“Spoken like a punk kid who hasn’t seen true pain and suffering,” Justino said as an involuntary grin split his mouth. The hungry voice in his head had grown louder while he had stood in close proximity to fresh, warm blood and flesh. He silenced it with an effort lest he fall guilty to the same lack of control that he had accused Fres of. “Torture wastes blood and makes your meat tough and stringy. I’d rather put you to sleep before slitting your throat. It’s best for everyone involved. Just answer my questions and none of us waste our time and energy in an ultimately pointless exercise.”

“No chance, monster,” the Headhunter spat.

Surprisingly accurate.

The spittle struck Justino in the face.

He snarled and rushed the cage, barely stopping himself in time.

More effort expended for self control.

He wiped the spit.

“Are you so desperate to have an ugly ending to your young lives?” Justino said.

“More like a noble, self-sacrificing one,” the Headhunter smirked.

“Fucking punks,” Justino muttered. “Very well. Maybe you’ll change your minds after I’ve… changed.”

A barrage of images and emotions hammered into Justino’s thoughts.

“Elder… attack…” he whispered.

It was too disjointed, not at all like the usual way the Elder alerted him whenever there was an impending monster attack.

He left the two young men with a snarl before barging out of the structure.

“We’re under attack,” Fres said with an eager gleam in her eyes.

“I got the Elder’s message too… I think,” Ramon scratched his head.

“Fres, take your fliers out and find whatever is about to attack. Widening circular pattern around the village. Spread out for full coverage. Ramon, ring the bell. Tell them I want people on the walls watching every direction,” Justino said.

Fres changed into her razor-winged form, trailing bloody entrails as she left the lower half of her body behind while she soared into the sky, screeching.

Answering calls came shortly after as other shapes flew up to join her.

Ramon ran off with one last nod.

Justino remained in the center.

The Elder didn’t know where the attack was coming from.

That had never happened before.

Unease spread through Justino’s gut, twirling around the current of eagerness that came with the bloodlust from anticipation.

He remembered his main purpose.

To protect the family.

All the better that he could feed without guilt while doing so.