The Blood Scent of White Blossoms

THE BLOOD SCENT OF WHITE BLOSSOMS
Copyright November 26, 2006 By Rory V. Pascual

The one thing that Sebastian Echeverri will always remember about that late, humid afternoon was the cloying scent of sampaguitas that seemed to exude from the very fabric of the pockmarked, stained walls of the old two-storey building situated near Pier 15 overlooking Manila Bay. The heavy scent of the delicate flowers grown on the premises conveniently masked the chemical odor of the illegal drugs that were being manufactured in the makeshift factory. So strong was the flowers’ perfume that it also dispelled the choking, burning odor of gun smoke.

The drug den was plunged into chaos when Bas and his fellow cops from the Western Police District launched their raid. The women, who had been putting the sugar-like powder into small plastic packets, screamed as they fled in all directions, policemen in hot pursuit. The men – couriers and small-time pushers – were slow to pick up their guns and were immediately fired upon or disarmed by the other officers.

Somehow, Bas got separated from his team when he gave chase to a balding man, who decided to escape to the second floor. There was an exchange of gunfire, but the young cop was quick to duck inside empty rooms or behind large crates. In the end, he cornered the man in a small room. Like a trapped animal, the man pointed his gun at his pursuer, arms shaking, pupils dilated with fear. Bas remembered shouting at the man to lower his weapon. A trigger finger twitched, and the police officer fired back.

Bas never saw the tiny figure that suddenly darted into the path of his bullet to protect her father. What registered to his shocked charcoal gray eyes were the blood-spattered garlands of tiny white flowers that flew out of the child’s hands. Later on, the cop learned that the girl was the only casualty of the raid.

Bas vaguely recalled his superintendent’s kind words to him, assuring him that the child’s death was not his fault. What he remembered were the very words he had spoken to his superior officer as tears of guilt rolled down his face.

“Now I know why I don’t like the scent of sampaguitas,” Bas had said to the superintendent. “They smell just like blood.”

+ + + + + + + + +

It was the scent of sampaguitas that roused Bas from his distressing dream. His bleary eyes immediately focused on the dashing young man who was laying garland upon garland of the white flowers around the neck of the Santo Niño. The delicate blossoms already covered the lower half of the Baby Jesus’ chubby face.

Groaning, Bas sat up from his bed, as a cheerful smile lit up his unwelcome visitor’s lips.

“Oh, so you’re awake at last!” With a yank of the curtains, bright sunlight spilled into the room, causing the young man’s red orange hair to glow with a fiery aura. There was a twinkle of mischief in his sky blue eyes as he added, “For a while there, I thought I was going to have to haul your ass out of bed, Monsignor Echeverri.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me ‘Monsignor’?” Bas scowled at the aura that was slowly getting brighter and brighter. “And would you mind toning it down? My reputation is notorious enough as it is. I don’t need any of those snooping manangs discovering that my private secretary is actually a seraph.”

“If you’re talking about that charming gossip Manang Susan, don’t worry! I took the liberty of retrieving your cassock which you had asked her to press for you, so she won’t be dropping in on us unannounced.” That smile turned into a toothy grin. “You know, she and all the other church matrons suspect that you and I are lovers.”

Bas grimaced at that last. “Yes, and I’m sure you’d love it if that were indeed a fact, am I right, Radha?”

The seraph known as Radhael Lunarmist ran his fingers through his tousled shoulder length mane. “I wonder what those old ladies would say if they found out I have yet to make first base.”

With a snort, Bas pulled his blanket aside, letting his long legs slip down the side of the bed. “And you’ll never make it to the batter’s mound, I promise you that. How a pervert like you became an angel is something I could never understand!”

“Hey, I resent that! The Lord Himself had said many times that you should love thy neighbor.”

“Love is not synonymous with fornicating with another of your own sex.”

“I’m a firm believer in free love. Besides, we angels are neither male nor female. We’re asexual.”

“Free love, asexual…Call it by any other term, you’re still a pervert!”

Pouting, Radha folded his arms over his chest as he leaned against the window frame. Somehow, he found himself giving his human partner an appraising look over. At age thirty-five, Cardinal Sebastian Echeverri still retained the lethal leanness and grace of body of his years as a policeman. But his most alluring feature was his face. The only son of a Filipino cop and a Japanese businesswoman, Bas’ face was a perfect blend of both nationalities. He possessed the light mocha complexion of his Filipino heritage, but his facial features were clearly Oriental – delicate, slanting dark gray eyes capped with obscenely long, curling lashes, a fine nose, and rose-colored lips. Add a silken waterfall of silver-tinged black hair that reached down to the small of his back, and the cardinal was truly a striking man to behold.

The seraph’s only complaint was that he wished Bas would smile more often. The cardinal seemed to be always deep in thought, worry lines wrinkling the region between his eyebrows. Radha knew the reason for this. The Almighty Himself entrusted Bas with an important mission that the man was adamantly against fulfilling, and with good reason.

How could a cop-turned-priest be expected to redeem the fallen creatures of Heaven when these same demons had ruined his body, heart and soul beyond repair?

“What are you gawking at?” The cardinal’s sharp query brought the angel back to his senses. As he stood up, he said churlishly, “Don’t get any funny ideas inside that handsome head of yours, Radha. I don’t have the slightest interest in you and I…”

Bas let out a cry as piercing pain shot through the soles of his feet. Before he could fall, Radha ran forward and caught him easily. The seraph’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown, seeing the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around Bas’ feet. Blood was also wetting his shirtsleeves where the priest clutched at his arms.

“When did this start?” Radha asked grimly.

“As soon as we arrived in the barrio three days ago,” was Bas’ pained reply, as he peeled off the bandages to reveal the bleeding holes in his palms and feet. “I had hoped that we wouldn’t be facing anything supernatural. I should’ve known that only a demon would be responsible for the infant killings in this village.”

“You should’ve told me earlier. I could’ve done something.”

Bas pulled back his hands before the angel could take them in his grasp and attempt to stop the bleeding with his healing power. “It’s all right. Besides, you know that you can only stop the bleeding temporarily. It won’t stop, not until we catch the killer.”

“Well, at least, let me help you put on fresh bandages.”

“I can manage. I’ll just take a quick shower first. Good thing you woke me up. I almost forgot that we have a scheduled Baptism this morning.”

Radha watched helplessly as his friend hobbled over to the dresser to pull out a fresh shirt, pants and towel. The gun lying at the bottom of the dresser did not escape his notice, as well as the magazines loaded with blessed silver bullets.

Limping toward the bathroom, Bas quickly added, “Before I forget, would you mind getting those garlands out of my room? You know how much I hate the scent of sampaguitas.”

“It’s been twelve years, Bas,” Radha exclaimed aghast, as he was about to lay the freshly pressed black cassock over the bed. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t forgiven yourself for what happened?”

Bas snatched the cassock out of the angel’s hands. Gazing down sorrowfully at the garment, he said, “I thought that I could be redeemed. That’s the reason why I joined the priesthood. I had hoped that the blood on my hands would be washed away if I immersed myself in the faith and in service to the people. That as a priest, I would never kill an innocent again. But I was wrong. This black garment signifies that my soul would never be freed from the taint.” The cardinal looked at his friend. Although there was a weary smile on his face, his eyes held a sharp glint that spoke of a strong desire for vengeance. “When I find him, there will be no redemption for him, and there is absolutely nothing that you nor the Father can do about it.”

Without saying another word, Bas entered the bathroom and closed the door with an irrevocable click.

For a long while, Radha stood staring at the closed door. His mind, however, was elsewhere.

Ten years ago… An old church that had been desecrated by the minions of darkness. A newly ordained priest, barely alive, lying on top of a blood-drenched altar amidst the tattered remnants of his holy vestments.

That was the very first time he met Sebastian Echeverri, the man who would soon be known as the ‘Blood Cardinal’, second in power and position to the Holy Father in the Vatican. A priest answering DIRECTLY to the Lord Almighty.

Radhael’s right hand closed into a tight fist as he remembered that moment when he had discovered the brutally violated priest.

“I know what we once were to each other, Lucifer, Light of the Morning, once God’s Chosen,” the seraph muttered under his breath. “But, Lord help me, even if it is my fervent wish to see you redeemed from the fires of Hell, I don’t think I could forgive you for the terrible things you had done to that man.”

~~~~~

When Bas finally emerged from his bath, dressed in his priestly garments and wearing gloves to hide the bandaged stigmata on his hands, he was surprised to behold Radha sitting on the bed. Propped on the angel’s right shoulder was the Holy Staff Celestia, which the priest had hidden behind the cabinet.

“I won’t be needing that during the Baptism, Radha,” the cardinal pointed out to the seraph, gazing apprehensively at the gold staff on which was mounted the gilded Crown of Thorns that once pierced the Crucified Christ’s brow. The Holy Relic was cradled by two jade olive branches beneath it. Within that circle of sharp thorns was a simple gold cross.

“This is the symbol of your rank,” Radha replied sternly. “Besides, it was Celestia, acting on God’s will, who Chose you to be her wielder. The two of you should not be separated from each other.”

“I did not ask her to Choose me. There are other priests who would’ve been more worthy of her.”

“It is not up to you to decide who she Chooses. Only she could Choose the man who is worthy to wield her. In the same way, I came to you because it was Celestia who summoned me to your side. The three of us are bound together, Bas. There is nothing you can do about it.”

“True,” the cardinal murmured resentfully. “The only thing I can do is to make the most of a situation that is not to my liking.”

Reluctantly, Bas took the staff from the angel. As soon as his fingers closed around it, he felt electricity surge though his arm, testament to the power and intelligence that Celestia possessed.

Same as that very first time he had held God’s staff in the Vatican’s secret chamber, he heard a female voice speak inside his head, “You have nothing to fear from me…for as long as you obey the Father’s Will.”

“Why don’t I feel comforted by that?” Bas remarked dubiously.

Radha patted the zucchetto reassuringly on top of the cardinal’s head. “Shall we go? The townsfolk are probably waiting for us at the church.”

The angel and the priest strode out of their humble lodgings and into the bright sunlight. As they did so, a strong wind blew, causing dust from the dirt and gravel road to swirl up around them. Bas had to yank his cassock down before it could flip up to his waist.

“Be careful, Eminence!” the angel couldn’t resist the jibe. “Everyone might see what you’re hiding underneath that dress.”

“Shut up!”

Ignoring his annoying companion, the priest surveyed the village. Gazing at the cement and brick houses, Bas found it strange that the people of Barrio Sagrada Familia could afford to build such lovely homes and yet do nothing about the sorry state of their streets.

//Certainly not your typical farming community,// Bas mused as he looked at the rice fields that virtually surrounded the barrio.

The cardinal watched in amusement as the seraph playfully leaped over the mounds of carabao dung scattered all over the road. Despite what he had said to the angel earlier, he could not help but gaze appreciatively at his celestial sidekick.

Radhael was of the same height and build as he, but there the similarity between them ended. Fair complexion with a rosy color tingeing his high cheekbones, bright red orange hair that certainly could not be called natural, eyes the color of the clear blue sky…the seraph was a celestial peacock, and reveled in the attention that his stunning good looks gave him.

“Hey, Bas!” Radha suddenly called out to him, jarring him out of his musings. “You humans should think about developing building materials from manure.” He pointed his toe at one smelly pile. “Just ten of these could fill one sack of cement.”

“Coming from you,” Bas commented with a grimace, “that sounds like a whole load of crap to me.”

The angel glowered at the cardinal who smugly walked past him. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to say.” Running to Bas’ side, Radha teased, “I saw you staring at me earlier, and don’t you deny it.”

“You must have been imagining things again.”

His bright blue eyes shining with mischief, the angel prodded further, “Does that mean you’re falling in love with me?”

Bas breathed out a sigh of mild exasperation. “Better get out of the sun, Radha. You’re starting to hallucinate.”

The angel was about to utter a retort when the sound of wailing caught their attention. People were milling in front of the church. One man broke through the throng and hastened toward them. His sun-darkened face was drenched with his tears.

“What’s going on?” Bas asked the farmer. Dread was causing his heart to beat like a drum.

Bursting into renewed tears, the man’s breath hitched as he stammered, “The baby…there won’t be a Baptism today, Father.”

The cardinal needed no further prompting. Running toward the church, Bas pushed his way through the crowd and fell to his knees beside a wailing woman, who was rocking a bloody bundle in her arms.

“Let me see her,” Bas said gently, prying the dead baby from her tight embrace. Carefully, he peeled back the blanket, only to jerk it over the tiny body again. But it was enough for everyone to see the hideous gashes in the infant’s belly.

Horrified murmurs of “Aswang! Aswang!” rose among the townsfolk.

It was Radha who confirmed the cardinal’s suspicions. “No. An aswang did not do this. The bite marks are too small to have been made by a flesh-eating vampire or an animal. It could only be a….”

“Tiyanak.”

The villagers whirled as one to gaze sharply at the pregnant woman standing behind them. At once, the accusations began to fly, all directed at the poor woman who had given a name to their fears. In her growing terror, she was crushing the sampaguita garlands she was selling in her hands.

“Hoy, Adela!” one farmer demanded. “I saw you standing in front of Aldo and Felisa’s house last night. What were you doing there anyway?”

“I…I just happened to be passing by,” Adela stuttered, cowering back from the angry townsfolk who were gathering around her. “I was doing nothing wrong!”

“Don’t lie to us!” another man shouted. “All these killings started when you were found to be pregnant. How are we to know that you aren’t carrying a monster inside your womb?”

Infuriated, Radha swiftly placed himself between the terrified woman and the mob. “Do you people hear what you’re saying? How dare you make these terrible accusations against one of your own!”

“That bitch came from a family of baby killers!” The seraph was shocked to see that it was Manang Susan who had spoken. “They murder infants while still in their mothers’ wombs!”

That last proved to be too much for Adela. “I won’t deny what I am!” she cried, tears pouring down her cheeks. “But I will not shoulder all the blame!” The woman looked at the villagers one by one. “Your hands are also drenched with the blood of the babies you had asked me to kill!”

The dead baby’s mother lunged at Adela before Radha could stop her.

“Die, witch!” the woman screamed in fury as she yanked fistfuls of hair from Adela’s scalp. “I’ll kill you for what you did to my daughter!”

“Stop it! Stop!” Radha shouted, covering the hapless woman as the blows began to rain down upon them. Already, the angel was tempted to change into his true form in order to protect the poor garland seller.

“THAT…IS…ENOUGH!”

An invisible force sent the villagers flying a short distance away from the seraph and the woman. Raising his head, Radha saw that Bas had risen to his feet, the dead baby cradled in his left arm. He was pointing Celestia at the shocked townsfolk.

His face livid with fury, Bas thrust the Holy Staff hard into the ground as he stormed over to them. “Do you people have no shame? You should be preparing for this poor child’s wake and funeral, and offering prayers for her, instead of rioting in front of the Father’s House!”

“But, Father, this woman killed Felisa’s baby!” a burly farmer dared to argue with him.

“And what proof do you have? Even if we take this matter to the police in the munisipyo, they will also tell you that you have nothing against her!”

Removing his glove to reveal the bloody bandages of his right hand, Bas closed his eyes and laid his palm over the baby’s wound. “I’m sorry that this is the only thing I can do for you, my child,” he whispered regretfully. “Let your parents remember you as you were in life and not in death.”

Grim-faced, the cardinal handed the infant to her mother. All were astounded to see that the wound was sealed.

Bas took his place beside Radha and the sampaguita seller. “All of you go and tend to the baby’s final needs. Let Radha and I solve the mystery of these deaths.”

“Father, you can’t just let that woman walk away!” a church matron cried, but the priest’s sharp gaze immediately silenced her.

“None of you can tell me what to do! I only take orders from God Himself!” Bas declared in finality. “I am not as merciful as Christ! If any of you dare to harm a hair on this woman’s head, I personally will pass judgment upon you all!”

Turning on his heels, the cardinal walked away, with Radha and Adela following behind him.
~~~~~

Wrinkling his nose, Bas knew they were nearing Adela’s home by the scent of sampaguitas in the air. When they reached the hilltop, he was astounded to behold an entire field of the white blossoms below. Sitting in its heart was a hovel.

“Thank you, Father, Mr. Radha, for helping me back there,” Adela said sincerely as she waved them toward her humble home. “I’m so sorry that you had to get involved.”


“Oh, it was nothing!” Radha gave her a reassuring smile that caused the woman’s heart to flutter. “You’ve been giving me these lovely garlands for Bas’ Santo Niño. Besides, the reason why we’ve been assigned to this barrio is to investigate the baby deaths here.”

“I see. Let me get you some coffee,” was Adela’s simple reply.

Bas noticed that she did not seem at all surprised about their purpose for being in the village. Plopping down on the wooden stairs, he glanced inside the house. It was just like any rural house, except for the large glass jars lined up on the shelf in one small room. Having been a regular visitor of the police morgue, his nose readily identified the odor of formalin. Visible through the murky pink fluid of one jar was a tiny foot.

Adela soon returned with two cups of black coffee, which she offered to the two men. Fixing her skirt primly, she sat down beside the cardinal.

“Father, you don’t seem to like sampaguitas,” Adela observed quietly. “There was an expression of distaste on your face as we were walking through the field.”

“It’s not that I don’t like the flower,” Bas said defensively, fearing that he had offended the woman. “It’s just that, I’m afraid, the scent does not agree with me.”

“Because it smells like blood, doesn’t it?”

Priest and angel gaped at her in surprise. “Why do you say that, Adela?” Radha inquired curiously.

Instead of answering his question, the woman gazed out into her field of white blossoms. “When you arrived here, didn’t you ever wonder how these poor farmers could have such lovely houses?”

“I must admit the thought had entered my mind,” Bas confessed his earlier musings.

“This may seem like a simple farming village to you,” Adela continued, “but all of the women here are, or used to be, prostitutes. Women selling their bodies and souls to city folk created this illusion of affluence. That baby who was killed? If she hadn’t died, I wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up following in her mother’s footsteps.”

“They said you were a baby killer,” the priest remembered the villagers’ words. “Then you’re an abortionist?”

Adela nodded, rubbing her swollen belly. “As were my mother, my grandmother, my great-grandmother. The women go to us when their patrons get them pregnant and they want to get rid of their babies. I don’t want to do it, but that is how I make a living. I need the money for this child, especially now that my husband has left me for another woman.”

“And that’s why you said that the villagers’ hands were also tainted by the blood of the innocent.”

“Why should I alone be made to shoulder the guilt? They’re the ones who wanted those infants aborted in the first place. It’s a shame that they even named this town after the Holy Family, when they haven’t respected those poor children’s right to live. I used to go to Confession. But even if the priest gave me Absolution, I knew that there was no forgiveness for my sins. In the end, I gave up going to church entirely. Instead, I have chosen to atone for my sins with this field.”

“What do you mean?” asked Radha.

“This sampaguita field was started by my grandmother,” Adela revealed. “Every time she would abort a baby, she would plant one cutting. She told me that this was a memorial to the innocent life that she had taken, and that even if the child had perished as a human being, its spirit would live on in every sampaguita blossom. My mother continued the tradition. But I took it one step further. This field is no longer just for those infants who had died by our hands. It also belongs to the children I’ve read about in the newspapers who have died due to calamity, war and violence. The first two sampaguita cuttings that I had planted in this field were not for the first baby whose life I had taken. They were for a policeman and the little girl he had accidentally killed in a drug bust twelve years ago.”

Radha saw Bas’ head whip toward the woman in shock. But Adela did not notice the expression on the cardinal’s face, having stood up as she had said that last.

“I felt sorry for that policeman,” the woman admitted truthfully. “I understood his pain, the guilt of knowing that he had killed a child. I planted those cuttings for him and the little girl, believing that, someday, they would see each other again and he would receive the forgiveness he seeks.”

For a long moment, a heavy silence fell between them. Wanting to steer the conversation away from the topic that was distressing his friend, Radha put in, “Adela, you said earlier that the killings were caused by a tiyanak. How do you know?”

“I guess I always knew that the sins of this town would eventually catch up with the villagers.” There was a sad little smile on Adela’s face as she looked at her saviors. “Call it poetic justice, if you will, that the avenging angel should come in the form of a child demon.”

An hour later, Bas and Radha were trudging back to the village. It did not escape the seraph’s observation that the cardinal was visibly disturbed.

Before Radha could offer a comforting word, it was Bas who spoke up first. “Did you notice it, Radha?”

So the priest had seen it. The seraph nodded in agreement. “Yes. One of the jars had no fetus inside.”

~~~~~

“Bas? Are you okay?”

The cardinal, who was squatting at the seraph’s feet, shook his head. Waving a reassuring hand, he said, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure?” Radha asked doubtfully. “You seem distracted since this morning, when we came from Adela’s home.”

The angel had assumed his true form, more convenient for their hunt for the elusive tiyanak this moonlit night. His ornate sword was sheathed in its scabbard slung on his back. Radha unfurled his wings, letting the golden eyes on each white feather to survey the sprawling sampaguita field below them.

He carefully ventured to his stoic companion, “Do you want to know where the sampaguita shrubs she planted for you and Trudis are? I could show them to you.”

“Just…just concentrate on finding that tiyanak. If my hunch is correct, it’s hiding around here somewhere. There are no more infants left for it to kill in the village.”

Radha’s heart was filled with sudden dread as he looked at the priest. Bas had changed into his ‘work’ clothes – a black cassock with four long slits at the front, back and sides, which would allow his tight jeans-clad legs free movement. On his feet, he wore ankle boots suited for all types of terrain. His gloved hand was closed into a tight fist around Celestia. Peeking through his unbuttoned mozzetta was the butt of a CZ 75 pistol.

The seraph had no doubt. The Blood Cardinal was on the prowl, and he was in killing mode.

“Bas…that gun…I think you should…”

The cardinal’s head snapped up. “Something’s wrong!” Before Radha could even blink, Bas was dashing down the hill, heading for the sampaguita field. The angel took off into the sky to catch up with the priest. Neither the seraph nor the human were prepared for the sight that greeted them.

The entire flower field was sprayed with blood, red drops dripping from the petals and leaves. The eerie sounds of babies and children crying were rising from the desecrated blooms to a deafening din.

“ADELA!” Bas called out to the woman as he ran up the stairs and inside the house. What hit him first was the heavy scent of formalin and fresh blood in the air. Then, his eyes saw the moonbeam that shone through the open window, illuminating the pitiful figure in its soft, cold glow.

Poor Adela was sitting in a rocking chair, her belly now a gaping hollow of torn flesh. What horrified the priest was the serenity on the woman’s face, a clear acceptance of the terrible punishment that had been inflicted upon her.

At the foot of the rocking chair, Bas detected movement. The cardinal’s face was transformed into a mask of disgust and rage as he finally beheld his prey.

At first glance, the tiyanak looked like a three-month old baby. Its skin, however, was oily black; sharp, pointed claws protruded from its tiny fingertips. Neat, even stitches joined its left leg to its body. Its eyes were large and red, gleaming with sheer malevolence. The tiyanak hissed and snarled at him in warning. Hanging from its razor sharp teeth were bits of flesh from the unborn baby it was savaging.

Using Celestia was furthest from Bas’ mind. Totally disregarding his mission, he pulled out his gun and aimed straight at the demon.

“BAS! DON’T!”

Radha flew through the door and pushed the priest’s shooting arm upward. The bullet went wide, breaking a jar on the shelf, causing its contents – a four-month old fetus – to spill onto the floor.

Bas was enraged. “Fool! Why did you stop me?”

Out of the corner of his eye, the cardinal saw the tiyanak leap. Swiftly, he shoved the angel aside, the sharp claws missing Radha by a mere inch. Like a black blur, the little demon disappeared into the field.

“Look what you’ve done! I had it in my sights!” Before Bas could give chase, Radha seized his wrist.

“You know the orders that were given to you, Bas,” the seraph strongly reminded him. “Do NOT kill it!”

“Are you saying that I should redeem that monster? Did you see what it did to Adela?”

“Yes, and judging from the look on her face, she had forgiven it for what it had done to her. Bas…how could you expect to be forgiven when you yourself could not forgive?”

Bas gazed at the seraph, appalled that Radha would even dare to suggest such a thing. He jerked his arm out of the angel’s grasp and pointed at the corpse seated near the window.

With teeth gritted in anger, the priest muttered, “Tell me, Radha! How can I forgive…that?”

What could Radha say in the face of the cardinal’s righteous fury? Grudgingly, he watched his partner rush into the field of flowers in pursuit of the little demon.

Bas stopped in the heart of the field, surveying his surroundings and trying to catch the movement of the tiyanak. But the sampaguita shrubs were too high, reaching up to his waist, that it effectively concealed the demon as well.

A patch of shrubs rustled six feet at his right. As he turned in that direction, there was movement in the bush behind him. This happened four more times, but not once did Bas fire his gun. He knew his prey was confusing him.

//Be patient,// the priest told himself. //It will attack very soon.//

As he expected, anger and desperation caused the tiyanak to spring right in front of him like a feral cat. But Bas was ready for it. He swiftly drew out his gun and fired at the seam joining leg to torso, severing the limb. With a deafening shriek of agony, the tiyanak began falling to the ground, instantly transforming into a wailing human infant. Bas, however, would not be fooled by such a masquerade. Again, he raised his gun, ready to shoot a silver bullet straight through the demon’s heart.

The cardinal’s prey was literally snatched in mid-air by Radha, who carried the tiyanak out of the gun’s range.

The seraph’s tears were like diamonds as he cried in outrage, “Why are you doing this, Bas? The Father did not order you to kill!”

“Give that monster to me, Radha!” Bas shouted at the rebellious angel. “Don’t be fooled by its appearance! It is using your pity to its advantage!”

“No, it is not pity!” Radha shook his head stubbornly, as he pulled the shrieking infant protectively close to his chest. Frustrated, he exclaimed, “Damn it, Bas! How can I make you understand?”

Before the priest’s stunned eyes, he watched as the tiyanak reverted to its demon form and sank its teeth into Radha’s neck. With a fierce wrench of its head, it tore out the angel’s throat.

“RADHA!” Bas screamed in horror.

However, even as the seraph plummeted back to earth, Radha held on to the tiyanak. He even gave the shocked little demon a tender kiss on the cheek.

“It’s all right. I understand your pain,” Radha’s voice was a raspy whisper. “I forgive you.”

Bas hurried to the place where the seraph had crashed. Dropping to his knees before the bleeding angel, he tore off his gloves and bandages. Laying both of his hands over the gash, he suffused it with a healing glow, knitting torn flesh, blood vessels and skin. As he was healing Radha, Bas noticed the tiyanak watching him a short distance away. Gone was the ferocity on the monster’s face. Now, there was only doubt and indecision.

Bas used the tiyanak’s hesitation to strike. With a flick of his wrist, the Crown of Thorns mounted on his staff lengthened into a whip that wrapped around the demon’s neck. The tiyanak tried to remove it, but the thorns cut deep into its skin.

Having captured his quarry at last, Bas aimed his gun right between the tiyanak’s eyes. “Is this how you show your gratitude to someone who had shown you mercy?”

To the cardinal’s surprise, the tiyanak began to speak, its high-pitched voice filled with abject misery and confusion.

“Why did he do that? I don’t understand!” the demon cried in utter bewilderment. “Why did he try to save me? Why show me mercy now when no one…back then…”

Bas cocked his gun. “Well, you won’t get any mercy from me!”

Radha’s eyelids fluttered open at that very instant the priest was squeezing the trigger. “Bas! Don’t do it!” he said weakly, raising a halting hand to his friend.

Before the cardinal could shoot, Celestia suddenly grew white-hot in his hand. To his horror, he saw the other end of his thorn whip snaking toward him at lightning speed. Bas was too slow to evade it. The whip coiled around his head, the sharp thorns sinking into his brow. A scream was torn from Bas’ throat as his mind was linked with the tiyanak’s, and he saw…Dear God, he saw…everything that the poor, tormented creature had been through.

+ + + + +

A white light…A male child’s mind voice…

“Is it time? Shall I be seeing my Mama at last? Isn’t it…too soon?”

The anticipation of welcoming hands, despite his apprehension…

But instead of hands, cold metal gripped his left leg. Terror, as he realized that he was being forced out of his mother’s womb. Desperation, as instinct made him cling to the life cord that connected him to his parent.

Then, nothing but blinding agony as his leg was completely ripped off from his body.

A much larger, more brutal instrument that would broach no further resistance from the tiny life that struggled desperately to hang on.

“I don’t want to die!” the child screamed. “Please let me live!”

In the end, his meager strength ran out, and he was pulled out of his sanctuary.

“Why? WHY?” he asked the weeping, pale-faced woman who was gazing down at him.

A hysterical voice that he realized could only belong to his mother…“I don’t want to see it, Adela! Burn it! Bury it! I don’t care! Just get rid of it!”

Adela gathering him in her gentle hands…Those same hands carefully sewing back his torn leg, despite the furious arguments of his mother…

“I’m sorry! I am so sorry!” Adela whispered to him over and over again.

But there was only rage in the child’s heart. “No forgiveness! Revenge! Revenge!”

His last memory was of Adela looking at him in his glass coffin, with his distraught mother at her side.

“Your son will always be here,” Adela said sternly. “Let him serve as your reminder, if you should decide to have me kill your unborn again.”

+ + + + +

Bas barely felt the thorns release him and the demon, retracting to its original position on the staff. All he could do was weep at the memory of the poor baby’s horrendous final moments, his tears mixing with the blood that trickled from the wounds on his brow.

“I was very angry,” he heard the tiyanak sob. “I couldn’t understand what made the other children special that they were spared while I was murdered inside my mother’s womb. I hated that woman and my mother for killing me, but…” The demon prostrated itself at the priest’s feet. “Oh, Father! What have I done? In my desire for revenge, I have committed the same crime that my mother had done to me. I have deprived innocents of life as I too had been. Kill me, Father! I beg you! Send me to Hell! There is no forgiveness for one such as I!”

The tiyanak curled up on the ground, head pressed to the dirt, waiting for the punishment that was due it.

But it never came.

Sweet-scented oil was traced, in the form of the Cross, on its forehead. Then, Celestia was thrust into the ground before it. As Bas held the staff forth, he prayed in Latin, “Dominus noster Jesus Christus te absolvat; et ego auctoritate ipsius te absolvo ab omni vinculo excommunicationis et interdicti in quantum possum et tu indiges. Deinde, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”

Behind the priest, the poor creature heard Radhael say the same prayer in his native tongue, “May our Lord Jesus Christ absolve you; and by His authority I absolve you from every bond of excommunication and interdict, so far as my power allows and your needs require. Thereupon, I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Celestia began to glow with the radiance of the sun. From the Crown of Thorns, a dazzling beam shone down upon the demon, healing it, transforming it into a delightful cherub with pristine white wings.

The tiyanak looked at its new shape in astonishment. Bewildered, it asked the cardinal, “Why, Father? I don’t deserve this! Certainly not an evil creature like I am! I cannot be forgiven!”

In answer to its anguished cry, the sampaguita blossoms twinkled like stars. They broke off from their stems and floated up into the air. Each of the flowers transformed into cherubim, once infants and children who had died at the hands of Adela and her kin, as well as from the violence of mankind.

“Not true! Not true!” the sweet angels declared. “We forgive you! We forgive you!”

A bunch of flowers gathered into one bright light, revealing Adela carrying her unborn baby girl in her arms. Smiling, Adela said, “We forgive you, my child.”

Then, the demon-turned-angel gasped as Bas enfolded him in a crushing embrace. “What have I done?” the priest wept bitterly. “I judged you without knowing the pain inside your heart nor the sufferings you had endured. I nearly caused your very existence to end. How can I still call myself God’s servant after this?”

“Don’t say that! How could you think so low of yourself after you had saved my soul?” The cherub gave the cardinal an equally tight hug before flying to Adela’s side. “Even if God were to forsake you, my eternal gratitude shall always be yours.”

Then, strong arms wrapped around Bas’ waist, and Radha laid his chin on his shoulder. “You’re always too hard on yourself. Father would never have Chosen you for this mission if He did not find you worthy.” Smiling, he whispered, “I told you that if you could find it in your heart to forgive, you would receive it in return.”

An angel with golden wings emerged from behind Adela. Bas gasped, recognizing the little girl he had killed years back.

Trudis swooped down, cupped the priest’s face in her hands, and kissed him lovingly on the brow. “Be at peace, Father Bas. I never blamed you for my death. But if it would heal your heart, yes, I forgive you. I forgive you.”

“Thank you, Trudis,” Bas whispered to the angel who had healed one of the wounds in his broken soul. “Thank you.”

Wearied by his ordeal, Bas slowly closed his eyes and sagged into Radha’s arms. The seraph was the sole witness as Adela and the angels rose into the sky and entered Heaven’s golden gates. Rather than bring the priest back to the village, Radha simply held Bas to his chest, letting the priest cry out the pain he had kept inside his heart for twelve long years.

The sun was peeking at the horizon when the seraph felt Bas stir. Gently, he brushed away an ebony lock that strayed across the cardinal’s brow.

“Radha?”

“Yes, Bas?”

“I’m sorry…and thank you for being there for me.”

“Hey! What’s a soul guardian for, anyway? It’s my job to look after you!”

Charcoal gray eyes blinked up at the angel. “Radha…” Bas began hesitantly. “I cannot promise you that I could give redemption to all the lost souls. But…I will listen to you first.”

It would be unfair to expect his precious ward to change over night, after the hardships he had gone through. But the seraph saw this as a positive step in the right direction.

“That’s enough for me, my friend,” the angel said reassuringly.

“Radha…”

“Hmm?”

“The sampaguitas… The blood scent is gone.” A happy sigh. “They smell so nice.”

Radha pulled the weeping human close, bestowing a kiss upon his lips. “Yes, Bas. They really do.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

[AUTHOR'S NOTES: Just a few Tagalog words. "Manang" is a polite reference to older aged women. "Aswang" is the Filipino equivalent of a vampire. A "tiyanak" is a kind of child demon. In Filipino folklore, there are two origins of the tiyanak. The first legend says that it is a cherubim who joined Lucifer in the rebellion against God and was transformed into a demon during the Fall. The second is that it is an unborn child transformed into a demon who harbors a grudge against the mother who had it aborted.]