Priestess Kezia and I shed our cloaks, leaving our dresses on. Even though they were also torn parts and stain on them, we had no choice. We tried to hide in the midst of the passengers that went on board the train.

I loosened my long black hair and took out some of my hair ornaments, whereas Kezia retained her blond hair in a bun. Shit, I didn’t know she was a blondie. But I hoped she won’t get too much attention because of her own beauty. The men already began to watch our every movement. We were both paranoid. Perhaps some of them were our enemies.

We looked around us as we took our seats in the far end of the carriage. There were many people maybe because of the upcoming Christmas season.

“Don’t you know that you get too much attention, my lovely Priestess Adri?”

Oh, shit! He’s in my head again! And he sees me now?

I almost looked wildly around us. I couldn’t see any wolf though. Oh, right. They shift! How stupid can I be? I felt the bottle of wolfsbane in my dress pocket. It was safe at least. Good that I was able to remember to transfer it from my cloak pocket before we put the cloaks in the trash.

I put my palm on my forehead. “Kezia, we don’t have winter jackets,” I whispered to her.

She nodded. “Right. We forgot to blend in.”

“Then, it’s possible that they’re the same,” I said. Vampires and werewolves were not affected by cold. It was like summer all throughout the year for us. We only wear certain clothes to make sure that we blend in, so that people won’t get weirded. We should always act normal in public. But tonight was really out of norm. The wolves were after me, especially their Alpha.

As the train moved away from the station, bulky men started to stand up, looking at us ferociously.

Shit! They’re all over the place!

The werewolves in their human form took out some silver chain and knives. The passengers started to scream and moved out of the carriage in panic. Now I saw that beautiful man in his mid-twenties slowly stepped towards us. He had long wavy light brown hair that went past his shoulders. And those eyes… those champagne-colored eyes that shook my knees…

Madre de Dios! It’s him! My heart made a crazy cartwheel inside my chest. If only I had my powers…

His men looked at us with alert eyes. We were trapped in the middle of the aisle.

Priestess Kezia raised her hand to use her powers. Three of them were pushed out of the train, leaving a hole in the side. They growled while scrunching up their noses. They attacked the warrior priestess, while I stepped back as their Alpha advanced towards me. I held onto the back of a seat and kicked him in the face. He barely budged, and blood trickled down the side of his temple.

“Alpha King Iago!” one young werewolf with sandy hair exclaimed in alarm.

And I froze when I heard that name. It seemed like my surroundings went blur all of a sudden. I could barely see Kezia being held down by the werewolves using their chain, caught in the arms, legs and neck. Her skin was burned by the silver chain, and she screamed in pain.

A few vampires came from the roof, kicking the glass windows and went through the hole made by Kezia a little while ago. I was surprised to see Hestia with Zafrina and a few others. They took on each of the werewolves inside, making the Alpha wolf busy for a moment. Groans and grunts seemed to fill the air as they fought, and the train followed its railway track to Vienna.

I had to leave. This was a nightmare!

I moved to the other empty carriage, feeling weak. It seemed that the passengers moved far away from the brutal battle as much as possible. I bet the werewolves already took care of the train driver or even the emergency brake system.

I could barely breathe. My chest was tight. I believed that my consciousness would fail me any moment, as the memories of my childhood came rushing back to me. I dropped on the dusty floor, gasping, clutching my chest and wanting more air to fill my lungs. It didn’t matter even though I smelled the different odors of the people that were left behind. They were awful and gross actually—like the stench of a woman’s monthly period mixed with different perfumes, people who had no shower for days, unwashed jackets and coats, a baby’s poop, the odious comfort room not so far away and sweat. And yet, the air I breathed through my mouth seemed to fail me.

The screams and growls in the next carriage seemed so far away from me now. And then, I saw my eight-year-old self…

***

Bacolod, Philippines, year 1850.

“Maria Adriana! Where are you? I told you to not go far away from the house!”

I heard Mama’s hard voice in her own Spanish words while I was at the river bank, about two or three kilometers away from home. The water was clear and warm. The breeze carried the smell of grass, cows and carabaos that were grazing some meters away from me. My feet and slippers were dirtied as I gathered some fist-size stones that were smooth and pretty. I wanted to line them up around Mama’s rose flower garden while she had her siesta. I had no one to play with, so I tried my best to help my adoptive parents in anyway I could, especially during weekends when I wasn’t in school.

“Mama!” I called out to her when I saw her about to pass by on the slope.

She breathed a sigh of relief, placing her hand on her forehead. Her beautiful Spanish face lit up when she saw me. I knew she wasn’t my real mother since I was five. I overheard her conversation with my adoptive father then. They were talking about a priest who gave me to them when I was just a newly born. I didn’t understand it at first, but as a few years had gone by, I asked one of our maidservants what it meant by given away, because it always bugged me.

I learned that I was only a mestiza. I never knew my real parents, and I never asked my adoptive parents who my biological parents were but I heard they were killed. I loved them anyway. At such a young age, I knew love. They loved me like their real own daughter. But sometimes, I would think of the “what ifs.” What if they had their own child some day? Would they kick me out of their house and their lives? After all, I was just a mestiza, not a pure-blooded Filipino or a pure-blooded Spaniard. What if they decided to just give me away, too, if they got bored of me or something?

“What are you doing? I was told you didn’t sleep for the siesta because you sneaked out. And now it’s merienda time. Come on! Let’s get you cleaned up and ready.” She waved her hand, beckoning me.

She looked so beautiful in her long full wide skirt and camisa with pañuelo, a triangular folded scarf. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled into a neat bun, which exposed her long straight nose, slightly wide red lips, thick wavy lashes and dark brown eyes. Her white skin turned into a pretty blush because of the mid-afternoon sun.

“I’m coming, Mama!” I said and smiled. I lifted the hem of my saya where the stones were placed. I almost tripped when I climbed the slope, but she quickly grabbed my thin arm to help me up.

“I told you to not go this far away from home! What if some other kids made fun of you, or even bullied you, huh? They won’t think twice even though your father and I are close friends with the parish priest or the bishop or even the governador-general! They don’t recognize you!” she scolded me. She glanced at the stones that made my skirt heavy. “What are you going to do with these? Just leave them here.”

“No, Mama!” I protested with a pout and a frown. “It’s for your garden!”

She raised her brows and laughed. “Yo entiendo. I see. Bueno, I’ll help you with that. Let’s put those in…” She took off her pañuelo and knelt in front of me to put the more-than-a-dozen stones there. It got dirtied and overstretched that a part of the fabric grew thinner.

I dropped my jaw. That was one of her favorite pañuelos! Papa gave it to her last Christmas. I felt sorry that she had to do it just to make me comfortable. It was not decent to show our legs, especially in the public.

In return, I took off my own pañuelo and placed it around her neck. She smiled at me and kissed the tip of my nose. I scrunched up my nose and giggled.

“Te amo, Mama!” I said in a small voice, almost like a whisper.

She blinked, taken aback. It was the first time I told her I loved her. We looked at each other’s eyes for more than a few seconds. Her eyes watered as she embraced me. She smelled like the dama de noche flower. I loved it so much! I closed my eyes and filled my nose with her scent.

“Vamos,” she said after some time. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, while the other held the scarf with stones. She held my hand as if to secure me, and we walked home.

We ate our merienda at the flower garden. It was mango juice, banana cue and ensaymada. After that, she watched me lining up the stones around the flower bed, but they were not enough. I looked at her with a pout.

“You can do that some other time but you don’t need to go to the bank of the river, Maria Adriana. Is that clear?”

I was forced to nod.

When she left to put our plates and glasses in the kitchen of our two-story mansion, I was still sitting on my hunches. I stood up and almost lost my balance. I didn’t know what happened. My face, especially my eye, was so close to the rose’s thorn. I swear I could’ve hurt it. But I could feel it was like instinct that saved it. I melted the thorn merely at will. I regained my footing and stood straight, looking around with a fast-beating heart. Exhilarated somehow. Nobody else was there, but I saw these two boys climb on the fence and jump in to our compound. They perhaps didn’t see me right away because I was slightly crouched at first, and the flowers were in full bloom and almost the same height as me. They were laughing but stopped upon seeing me.

“¡Hostia!” the light brown-haired boy with a dimple and champagne-colored eyes exclaimed in surprise.

The three of us stared for maybe the longest minute. I gazed at the other boy with dark hair and blue eyes like the sky. Both these two boys who were obviously older than me had fascinating eyes! It wasn’t the first time I saw such interesting eyes because the Spaniards had different colors that ranged from light brown eyes to these amazing blue orbs. And yet, something in their eyes seemed to pull me like a magnet, which I couldn’t fathom in my young mind.

“Y-you’re trespassing,” I said in a stutter. Still, I acted brave.

“Oh, the wildflower among the roses speaks!” the champagne-colored eyed boy mocked. He playfully punched the other boy’s arm but was ignored.

The blue-eyed one stepped forward. I quickly picked up a stone.

“Don’t come near me. Get out of here!” I threatened them with the stone in my hand, ready to throw it at them.

But the dark-haired boy with blue eyes was fast. He held my hand and took the stone from my hand. He dropped it to the ground.

“We’re not going to harm you. I’m Erasmun Gonzaga. This is Iago Silvestre Villalobo. What’s your name?”

I swallowed my saliva, looking at them both. “Maria Adriana dela Rosa.” I looked down as I could not seem to meet their eyes anymore. They were both… intense. I stepped back a little, noting of their leather shoes and trousers and long-sleeved shirts that were made from expensive cloths. “You should go before Mama finds you here.” I gazed at them again, but they looked behind me.

“Maria Adriana, I have talked to—” mother trailed off when she saw the two boys in front of me. “Oh, you have guests! Why didn’t you tell me you made friends with the relatives of the former parish priest, Fray Julián Gonzaga?”

“Huh?” I could only say. I didn’t even know who that friar was. If she said former, that meant he was either dead or was just replaced. I didn’t care. “You know them, Mama?”