The San Isidro Mysteries 03: La Loba Blanca (complete)

"Shall we call it a day, Jefe?"

Andres straightened his back and nodded.

Yes. Murillo and Ponce are on duty tonight, are they not?"

Dela Paz nodded.

"Good," the jefe said, "we'll examine his body again tomorrow, yes, Sargento... again... and we'll be inviting Dr. Lazaro to help us and tell Ponce to draw a likeness of this man's face." He saw the surprised look on the sargento's face. "Once we're done with the examination, you and I will pay a visit to the town hotel. Since this man does not live in San Isidro, he may have secured temporary lodgings at the Casita Verde, someone may recognize him from the sketch and remember something more about him."

II

Lisa Enriquez opened the door of their hut just as Magdalena reached the top step of the small house.

"Where have you been?" she asked almost harshly, "I've been so worried about you, Ate."

The older sister did not answer; instead, she made her way straight to the large tapayan in the tiny kitchen where they stored drinking water. Taking one of the dippers hanging by the vessel's side, she scooped the cool liquid inside and drank, she finished two more scoopfuls before her thirst was sated. Her midnight-dark eyes flashed a warning to Lisa: she was not in the mood for questions.

But Lisa was determined, her worry far outweighed her fear.

"You have been gone for more than a day, Ate, you were not here when I came home yesterday evening nor were you home this morning when I left for work. And this," she grabbed the edge of Magdalena's blouse, "this is blood, Ate. Is it...is it...?

"It isn't mine." Magdalena snapped back and finally slumped on one of the two stools in the tiny kitchen of the hut they now called home. It was slightly bigger than the one they had left back on their home island, and it afforded the sisters more privacy than the bed-spaces they first occupied the first two months they lived in San Isidro.

It was through Kuya Ricardo's jefe, Capitan Andres Gonzales, that they came to know of the hut and the small parcel of tillable land that came with it; the previous tenant had returned to the far north after his wife was murdered -- their neighbors said that her killer was a supernatural being -- but that was of little importance to Magdalena. She had helped her mother plough, sow, water and harvest back in their previous farm, she knew how to work the land. Both the jefe and Ricardo accompanied her to Don Lucas Regalado, who willingly leased the hut and land to her. Their future had seemed so much brighter then; the land was much richer here and under Magdalena's gifts, it yielded twice the harvest of her neighbors' and when Lisa was engaged by La Dulcinea as an assistant cook, she had allowed herself to believe that, at last, they were safe. They had lived peacefully -- normally! -- for almost a year, but a few weeks ago, everything changed.

She awoke one night, shivering despite the summer heat, her breathing labored, as if she had been running, and she could feel the hair on her arms and nape tingling, but what was more alarming was she could smell its presence -- and it was close, so close. That was why she had ventured out the previous night, to confront it; and she had found him... in one of the dark dinghy alleys behind the more impressive storefronts of the town. It had been easy to get rid of him -- he was probably just an underling -- inexperienced, foolish and concerned only with sating his sick desires; but he was just the beginning, there would be more.

She finally looked at her sister.

"They've found us, they know where we are."

---------

Padre Miguel Acosta leaned on his shovel as he watched the other two men covering up the hole that they had been digging the whole day; it used to be the deep well the small friary beside the Basilica relied upon for water; but it had dried up the day before Miguel's arrival.

For a week, the priests had fetched water in buckets from the nearby San Isidro River which the town had been named after, but when Don Lucas heard of their predicament, he quickly sent his foreman to help. The foreman and a farmhand arrived early that morning, with an array of picks and shovels, but after ascertaining that digging the deep well was more than a two-man job, had asked if there was a handy-man in the friary who could help in deepening the hole. Miguel, aware that most of his fellow priests were elderly and frail, volunteered. Unfortunately, after hours of digging and several feet deeper, they still had not reached any water table.

"I'm afraid your well has dried up, Padre," the foreman called out to Padre Jose who had come out with the assistant parish priest to inspect their progress, "you'll have to dig a new one and it will cost you."

Padre Jose fanned himself with a battered buri hat; he was not unduly worried about the cost of digging a new well, but knowing just exactly where to dig it was his main concern, he did not want the Basilica's beautifully manicured grounds littered with holes.

"Do you think the town surveyor can find out where to dig exactly?" he asked the foreman who had finally finished leveling the ground.

The man scratched his head.

"Looking for water is not an exact science, Padre, it's more hit or miss."

"Erm, Padre Jose," the assistant parish priest spoke up, "there is a young woman, one of Don Lucas' tenant-farmers, and she is said to have the gift of finding water, she has helped two of the farmers find wells this past planting season. Perhaps she can show us where to dig a new one."

The parish priest nodded.

"How do we find her?"

"I've heard of her, she helped the town council find a new water source last month when they finally condemned the old well in the distrito central. I can't recall her name but she and my compadre are cousins," the foreman said, "I can ask him where she lives."

"That's settled then," Padre Jose replied, "thank you, my son. Let us know once you find out where this young lady lives and don't forget to send our thanks to Don Lucas."

Later that night, as Padre Miguel was closing the Basilica's double doors, he found himself staring at the copse of trees where he had heard the strange rustling sound and seen a faint shadow moving the evening he arrived. He had investigated the next morning, but had found nothing. Still, he could not shake the feeling that he was being... watched.

"Padre Miguel, oh, I'm sorry, hijo, I did not mean to startle you," Padre Jose said, "I've had word from the foreman of Don Lucas. Can you manage to see the... erm... ah, yes... the water diviner tomorrow morning? Here are the directions to her farm." He handed Miguel a piece of paper, "She hardly leaves the place, it seems she is devoted to her land. Well, good-night, my son."

Miguel bowed.

"Good-night, Padre Jose."

The old priest turned to go but stopped and called over his shoulder.

"Oh, and the señorita's name is Magdalena Enriquez."

---------

Andres Gonzales sat at his desk; in front of him lay the few belongings of the late Antonio Lizares. The visit to the Casita Verde, San Isidro's only hotel, proved to be fruitless.

Yes, the young man at the front desk said, after studying the sketch he was given; he remembered Señor Lizares, he arrived Tuesday, booked a room but was no longer in it the next morning when the cleaning woman came by; the hotel staff did not think it odd, they simply surmised that he had left without bothering to inform anyone, after all he had already paid in full the previous day.

It was not only the strangeness of the murder, but the dead man himself, that puzzled the jefe. San Isidro had more than its fair share of out-of-town visitors, most of them staying only for a day to visit the famous Basilica and see its elaborate high altar and the giant crucifix that was suspended from the domed ceiling and perhaps offer a prayer or two, while those who stayed longer were often invited guests of the more affluent residents of the town and spent the duration of their visit in their hosts' residences.

Señor Lizares obviously had no intention of staying more than a day -- he had no luggage with him -- and yet, from the jefe's investigation, he did not go anywhere near the Basilica. He arrived after lunch Tuesday, stayed in his room for the better part of that afternoon, was seen by a porter leaving Casita Verde in the evening and was found dead early Wednesday morning.

Why had Señor Lizares gone out that night? Andres thought, absentmindedly tapping on the dead man's cedula laid out on his desk; the Casita had a very serviceable café in its premises, so he could not have left the hotel because he was hungry -- could it have been business that had made him venture out in the dark -- perhaps to meet someone specifically at La Dulcinea even if the posh tavern was quite a distance from the small hotel?

And what business would be so important that a man would venture out in the middle of the night?

He glanced at the identification card in his hand. Antonio Lizares hailed from a town called Maria -- on the island of Siquijor -- then he remembered, that was the very same island where dela Paz's cousins Magdalena and Lisa came from.

---------

"Tao po!" Padre Miguel called out from the bottom of the steps that led to the hut, he waited a few moments and called out again, "Tao po!"

It was clear, after a full five minutes of silence, that there was no one inside the house. He walked around the hut and saw the small vegetable garden behind it, perhaps Señorita Enriquez was there. He walked towards the plot, marveling at the wealth of produce planted on the small plot, when he was suddenly pushed to the ground. He found himself down on the damp soil, unable to move as someone sat astride on his back, pinning his arms securely at his sides, while a strong hand pushed his face deep into the soft ground.

"Who are you and who sent you?" Magdalena hissed into the stranger's ear.

A muffled cough was the only answer.

Magdalena grabbed the man's hair and pulled his head up.

"Answer me."

"I... I'm Padre Miguel... from the abbey? I... called out at the hut, but no one answered... I'm looking for Señorita Magdalena Enriquez, forgive me... I... I did not mean to trespass," he coughed again.

He heard a sigh of relief as the woman gently laid his face back on the ground. Then he felt the knees at his sides release their hold on him. Finally, the weight on his back disappeared as she rose to her feet.

What am I doing? Magdalena thought, as she offered a hand down to help the padre up, I'm becoming just like them.

Miguel took hold of the hand and was surprised at its size, it was definitely a hand used to hard labor, rough and strong, but it was... small, his own hand engulfed it completely. He got to his feet and turned to face her.

Midnight-dark met Castilian blue, their lives and destinies would forever be changed.

---------

The man-servant took a deep breath before discreetly knocking at the door of his master's study.

"Tuloy," a soft deep voice commanded him to enter, "have you news from Lizares?"

"Yes, Poon," the servant answered, offering a note to his master, "this telegram was delivered this morning."

El Divino noticed the servant's trembling hand and took the note.

"Is something bothering you, Juanito? Are you ill, perhaps?"

"N... no, Poon," the other man replied, as he quickly thrust his hand behind his back; he was not going to admit to his master that he was afraid of him -- as were all of the other servants in the household.

El Divino nodded and began to read the telegram. Juanito noticed the small smile that formed on his master's thin lips.

"Some good news at last, Juanito. It says here that Antonio may have finally tracked down the two sisters to a town called," he looked at the note again, "San Isidro -- up on the main island. Send word to Tiago and the men, we may be travelling to Luzon soon."

He made a gesture of dismissal with his fingers, the servant bowed and turned to leave the room, but stopped short at his master's voice.

"A little fear is healthy, Juanito, it makes a man more careful and certainly more discreet, but do answer truthfully when I ask you a question, I abhor duplicity. You may go."

The servant scurried out of the room.

El Divino read the note a second time and reached for a piece of thin linen that lay on the table beside him, he inhaled its faint fragrance before settling more comfortably in his chair. He smiled contentedly; all he had to do now was to wait for Antonio Lizares' confirmation and soon, Magdalena and Lisa Enriquez, the daughters of a powerful witch and an equally powerful shaman, would be in his hands. That boorish oaf, Castor Reinoso, had let his greed for power and baser instincts take over, causing the cult the loss of its greatest prize. He deserved to die. To prevent the same mistake happening again, El Divino decided to personally lead the hunt for the sisters; his smile grew wider -- he was certainly looking forward to mating with the younger Lisa, but bending Magdalena to his will would be his greatest pleasure.

III

Amihan watched quietly as her husband secured the two sharp sundangs around his waist. When he was satisfied that the blades would not fall and, more importantly, were easy to draw, he put on his camisa de chino -- inside out. He walked to the corner of the bedroom where his two young daughters, Magdalena and Lisa, were fast asleep on a small cot and gently kissed them on the forehead. Amihan quickly turned her face away as Bayani approached her, not wanting her husband to see the fear in her eyes. As she folded the last of that day's washing, she felt his warm fingers on her nape.

"I'll be back before midnight with a full load of water," Bayani said, curling a gentle hand around her cheek as she looked at him.

"Are you wearing my anting-anting?"

Her husband smiled and lifted the chain around his neck where the amulet she had given him years before hung. "And I'm wearing my shirt inside out, so I can't be led astray," he added.

Amihan closed her eyes and murmured an ancient incantation before kissing the talisman. After one last embrace, Bayani walked to the door of their hut and went out into the dark night.

His torn and lifeless body was found two days later by their neighbors.

---------

The residents of the abbey were gathered around the Basilica's huge backyard, all of them watching curiously as a blindfolded Magdalena stood in one corner of the field. Holding an L-shaped tree branch in each hand, she turned her face up to the cloudless sky, moved her lips wordlessly and started walking slowly.

"Will she not stumble and fall?" Padre Jose whispered nervously to Miguel and the sargento.

"I was afraid she would, the first time I saw her do this," dela Paz answered softly, "but don't worry, Padre, my cousin is as sure-footed as a cat, probably even more so with her eyes covered like that."

The priests all nodded. It was certainly odd to have an abbey allow someone (and a woman, at that!) to perform a pagan ritual like dowsing within church grounds, but both Padre Jose and the assistant parish priest were part Indios and, despite being fully ordained, believed there was nothing wrong in such practices. The Spanish Church and the Holy See may have viewed water-divining as "a work of the devil," but to Padre Jose, it was a heavenly gift bestowed from above.

Magdalena was walking faster now; Padre Miguel took a step forward, she was headed directly toward a large mango tree, one of several that stood in the grounds, but the sargento quickly placed a restraining hand on his arm and shook his head.

"She knows it's there," Ricardo murmured.

The young priest held his breath as Magdalena, without stopping, turned slightly to her left, avoiding the tree. She walked on for a few more yards then suddenly turned again, this time to the right. After three steps, she drew to a complete stop and held the branches out. The bent branches quivered slightly then turned inward until their ends crossed.

Magdalena dropped the branches and removed the blindfold. She knelt and ran one hand over the patch of soil in front of her, it was cool and damp to the touch, even under the heat of the noon-day sun.

"There is water here, Padre Jose," she exclaimed, turning to the small crowd watching her, "a lot of water."

The parish priest heaved a sigh of relief while his assistant and the sargento shook hands. Ricardo looked to Miguel, but the young priest was already by his cousin's side, holding a canteen of water for her to drink.

Magdalena drank thirstily and handed the canteen back to Miguel.

"Thank you, Padre," she said softly.

"No... it is we who should thank you, Señorita Enriquez, you have not only re-supplied us with water, but you've saved my brothers and me from back-breaking labor," smiled Miguel.

Magdalena nodded, remembering the many times her father had to haul water from far away when the creek beside their tiny farm was reduced to a trickle during the hot dry summers. It had not been an easy life, but they were happy... up until the day Bayani, her father, was taken from them.

"Señorita?" The young priest's voice broke her reverie.

Magdalena looked up and saw him offering a hand.

"I'm sorry, Padre, I was..." She fought to contain herself.

"Your thoughts were miles away," Miguel answered gently; he had seen the tears welling in her eyes, "come, let me help you up, Padre Jose wants to thank you."

When she placed her hand in his, they were both surprised at how right it felt.

That evening, after preparing a simple meal of tinolang manok for supper, Magdalena sat by the wood stove, the low fire would keep the chicken soup hot for Lisa when she came home. It had been more than a week since Magdalena had gotten rid of Antonio Trillanes in one of the back alleys of San Isidro; she had meant to throw his body into the river, but was forced to leave it behind La Dulcinea when she heard the revelry of a small group of obviously drunk men coming towards her.

She shuddered, knowing what the young sampaguita vendor would have suffered, if she had not deliberately sought the whereabouts of Trillanes. The child had obviously said nothing about what she had seen -- the residents of San Isidro talked openly about the mysterious stranger's gruesome death -- offering a host of conjectures about his murderer: a jealous lover who had followed him to their town, a madman, a vigilante who had finally tracked Trillanes for some past transgression; but there was never any mention of a young woman being the killer.

She stared at her hands laid out on the table where she sat, she had taken three lives with them already, would Padre Miguel have willingly touched them if he had known? Magdalena knew the answer -- they were worlds apart -- even if she had been an ordinary mortal, he would still be a man of the cloth and she had no right to even think that there was anything more to his actions than benevolence and gratitude.

The hiss of the pot drew her attention, she rose to her feet and quickly removed it from the heat, it was then that she realized despite the low fire, the soup had boiled... again; Lisa should have been home by now. The hair on her arms and nape began to tingle, something was wrong... terribly wrong! She doused the fire with a cupful of water and ran out of the house, towards San Isidro.