When the Elephants Dance (43 page)

“When night approaches, they begin to howl and scream as wings sprout from their backs. Their hands grow into claws, and their vampire fangs come out. They detach themselves from the waist down, leaving their human legs standing behind. They can be killed in this demon form if someone were to find their lower half and place holy water or garlic on it. When daylight comes they cannot attach to their human form, and they burn.”

The families were packing their belongings to leave. The graveyard had grown very dark. The wind howled high in the trees. Soon a pack of dogs echoed the cry throughout the village. We laughed bravely, walking as one body toward the back of the cemetery. Our eyes shifted steadily to the rustling of a tree or the squawking of a bird.

“Pidring, is this the way?” I asked. The majestic mango tree I had remembered as a guidepost was obscured by the clouds floating rapidly before the moon.

“Pedro, do not joke,” Addie whispered.

Then came the sound of footsteps behind us, light, rustling the leaves, as if they floated, barely grazing the ground.

“Who is there? Would you like to join us?” Addie’s voice broke as we stopped to listen.

“Join us or we will leave you behind,” Augustino shouted, brandishing his cane.

No one showed themselves, and we turned to move ahead.

“Can I join you?” a woman’s voice asked.

Everyone shouted.

“It is only me, Socorra.” Her childlike voice sounded strange in the dark. She stepped closer, her face pale and smiling.

I put my hand to my chest. “Of course,” I said. “Pidring, will you hold Addie’s hand?”

“I can watch myself.” Addie wrenched her hand from my grasp. “She is probably here to anger her grandfather again and extort more money from him,” Addie muttered.

Socorra’s face burned red at how close to the mark Addie’s words hit, but for some strange reason, her being caught in her manipulation of the grumpy old man did not bother me. He probably deserves it, I thought.

We neared a solitary house at the edge of the woods.

“I thought that house was abandoned,” Augustino breathed, his voice raw.

Socorra reached for my hand, and I jumped at the warmth of it. I peered at her. She was so tiny that I felt the urge to protect her; from what, I did not know.

“The basement door is open,” Pidring whispered, breaking away from our group.

“Pidring, wait!” I shouted, but too late. Pidring disappeared into the dilapidated house. The front door had long ago blown away. It was a large, imposing house, beautiful surely in its day. There was a melancholy look to how the thick vines had overgrown the house, enveloping it. A snake consuming its prey. There was a faint light at the topmost room.

“Let us go,” Addie urged. “Call Pidring and let us go.”

“Yes.” Augustino hid behind practicality. “What if there are thieves in that house? They may hurt your friend.”

“I shall get him.” I stepped forward, but before I could move, we heard the distinct sound of an infant crying. Pidring shot out of the basement, holding a small white bundle.

“There are hundreds of babies in there.” He held the writhing form in his arms. “We must get help.”

The women were crying now and wringing their hands. Augustino was at the head of our group, his feet pointed opposite the house.

“We must go in,” I urged.

Within seconds the basement door burst open. “There it is!” Pidring shouted. A large winged creature shot forward, with long matted hair and a ragged, bloody gown. That was the last nut to tip the basket. The women took off running, shrieks rented the sanctity of the evening, and Augustino was truly a sight. Never had I seen a man make such good use of a cane.

We watched them go. Pidring and I were in tears, and laughter shook our bodies so badly, I lost my balance several times and fell forward. I looked up at the wigged and winged sewing bust. Its white gown swayed eerily in the wind. At my suggestion we had dressed and strung the creature on fishing lines the previous evening.

“We had better get that sewing torso down before my mother notices it missing. Or she will turn into something more frightening,” Pidring snickered. He reached on tiptoes with one hand to grab the swaying gown.

“I feel bad,” Addie said. “I liked those girls. Pidring, what is it you have in your arms that is making that ungodly noise?”

Pidring pulled the end of the small blanket. A white cat jumped to the
ground, hissing, then leaped into the dark. “The damned thing has torn half my arm. Ahh, but it was worth it.”

“Perfection.” I clapped hands with Pidring.

“You had better go in and blow out that candle before we burn the house,” Pidring instructed.

I turned toward the house, and suddenly my hands went cold. I could see the ghost of the previous owner hovering angrily near the window at our intrusion. I had seen him yesterday as well, when we first entered the house, but I had swallowed my hesitation and walked right through him. He had a right to be in that house. Of course, Addie immediately noticed something was bothering me.

“What is it,
kuya?
Do you see somthing?”

“Huh? Oh no, it is nothing. Let me blow out the light before—” I had not even finished my sentence when the light of the candle went out.

“Oh, better yet. It has burnt itself out,” Pidring said.

Addie gasped. “It shut itself out?”

I swallowed hard. Some spirits were very strong and could be violent. Those were the ones I needed to consult my mentor, Diagos, about, but his forest was a long way from this place. I wondered if his powers reached this far. Probably he would be disappointed with my pranks. He did not like the spirits to be bothered.

“Let us be on our way,” I urged.

“Ay, I have forgotten my coat, Ped.” Pidring chuckled. “One moment,” he called over his shoulder, already running back into the house.

I looked up at the window. I was the only one who could see the energy, like fire licking at the window frame.

“Wait, Pidring. I will come with you. Addie, stay here,” I instructed.

When I reached the top of the steps, Pidring was frozen with his back to me. “Ped …” His voice was strained. “I cannot move.”

There was a single chair in the room, and it teetered left to right, then tumbled. I could feel the bad energy trying to suffocate us.

“Speak to me,” I announced to the room.

“I cannot,” Pidring choked. His eyes were large, near tears. He was trying to hold on to his disbelief and not give in to the terror that threatened any minute to swallow him.

The table shook and slammed from side to side.

“This is my house!” The spirit appeared, engulfed in red. He was standing before Pidring with his hands tight around Pidring’s neck.

“We meant no harm.”

“What will you do? Ask me to leave my own house? No one living claims
these walls. It was mine before I passed.” The spirit’s appearance had changed. It did not have the older face it had shown in the window; it was younger, consumed in fire. I had seen its kind before, the ones destined to damnation but choosing to hide and disobey their guides. His presence filled the room with the smell of dead flowers.

The chair lifted and flew toward me. I stood in place, and it lost its momentum. The apparition frowned at me. “Who are you, favored one?”

I stepped forward and placed my hand on Pidring’s shoulder. Immediately the spirit let go as if he had been scalded.

“Let us pass,” I ordered. It dared not touch Pidring as long as I held him.

The spirit howled with the wind. It berated us with profanity, and as we hurried out, it slammed the door behind us. Once outside, Pidring began to shake terribly.

“Are you hurt?” I asked. I could see his struggle. He was trying to stay composed.

“Do not speak of it.” Pidring glanced at me.

“But perhaps if you talked …”

Pidring held up a hand and shook his head.

T
HE NEXT EVENING
, as I lay on my mat, my thoughts of Socorra were interrupted by my father. “Son, are you tired?”

I smiled at the question. “What is it, Pa?”

“Ah, are you awake? I am sorry to trouble you, but Aling Penelope has invited us to dinner at her home this evening. There is something she would like you to observe, and after, Mang Damasaw has requested us to pay a visit since we will be in that part of town.”

I sighed. “I was to go to a cockfight with Pidring tonight. Where does she live?”

“Just over the rise. We are not above a dinner invitation, are we, son?” my father joked.

“No, sir. When shall we leave?” I asked.

“Ah, well …” My father scratched his head in embarrassment, and I could see that he was already washed, with his hat in his hands.

“She is already expecting us?” I asked.

My father nodded.

~

A
LING
P
ENNY STARED
at me for a long moment when she opened the door, and I could see that her eyes were watery. She held her hand to her chest. “Please come in, come in. Thank you for honoring my home, Mang Salvatore,” she said to my father.

My father removed his hat. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

“Do you sense something, Ped?” he asked. “This room, this room,” he muttered. He sometimes sensed things, but there was nothing in the room.

“Maybe, Pa,” I told him.

Dinner was served, and the servants placed two baskets of chicken and rice before us, and I sensed nothing. The chicken was piled too high, and a thigh tumbled to the table. I noticed with a start that the chicken floated silently back to its place, yet I could still not see anything.

I looked around in alarm. Aling Penelope was trading pleasantries with my father. There was a servant in the room, but his eyes were focused on Aling Penelope. He was very familiar with her. He brushed the hair from her face while she talked. He unclasped the napkin around her neck. I noticed that my father frowned at the man’s familiarity.

“Please, could I have more water?” I said to the servant.

Aling Penelope looked at me strangely, then called out and another servant walked in and poured water into my glass.

I looked at the first servant in confusion; he had completely ignored my request. I studied him from head to foot, and it was then that I saw his feet did not touch the ground. When I looked up again, he smiled kindly at me.

I stood and excused myself, and the spirit followed me into the
salas
.

He stood with his hands behind his back. “You have come to ask me to leave?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “How is it that I did not see you?”

“You saw me, but she has accepted my presence for a long time now, so there is no tension.”

“If you stay too long, you will miss your opportunity.” I shrugged. “It may already be too late.”

“I cannot leave knowing she will not be taken care of,” the spirit said.

“What is your name?”

“Pacifico,” he answered.

“You were a good servant to her.”

“A good husband,” he corrected, and bowed.

It was then that I saw his energy was not the usual cloud that veiled the spirit; instead he wore it as the uniform of a devoted husband, and in a way,
what he had been to her in his lifetime, his love, had made him a servant. He adored her. It touched me.

“Still, Pacifico, I must ask that you leave.”

He bowed but willed himself to stay. His devotion was amazing.

“What does he say?” Aling Penelope stepped into the room, and her smile was beautiful, the smile of someone in love.

“He worries there will be no one to care for you.”

She stifled a sob and placed a trembling hand to her lips. “How stupid I have been. Is this wrong, to let him stay? Truly it does not bother me; he is always welcome.…” Her voice trailed off hopefully.

“His place in line will be compromised. They are waiting for him elsewhere.”

She nodded and studied the room. She took a deep breath. She did not know he embraced her from behind. “Husband, you may go now. I can care for myself.”

As soon as she said those words, a breeze took him away.

I
T WAS DARK
as we departed. Our thin clothes were no match for the rain that had come in torrents. “Damn this rain. Someday I shall have enough money to ride us around in a grand car.”

“Be glad that you have your health. Do not always be so concerned with money,” my father said.

“I may still make my appointment with Pidring,” I announced.

“One last place,
anák
. I promised a friend,” my father insisted.

We arrived at Mang Damasaw’s home at ten in the evening. It was a simple house, similar to ours but made of wood. He was younger than I expected, twenty years old. He looked much older from lack of sleep. The moment he opened the door I gasped as several spirits ran past me.

“Sir …” He took my father’s hand and placed the back of it to his brow as a sign of respect. “You honor us. Thank you for coming. Please enter.” He ushered us in, and I could not believe the sight. There was not one free inch of space. At least fifty spirits were crowded into the house.

They reached out to me as I walked by. I brushed away their hands. An old man stepped out. He pointed down the hallway. “This woman is a nuisance. I was resting until she called. I have already served one woman. I do not even know this one.” He stood with his hands on his hips, and I walked through him. He cried out in annoyance. “Boy, I am speaking to you. Boy!”

“Be silent,” I told him. He glared at me, speechless.

“Have you come to set us free?” a nun asked. Her robes swirled about her in a rose-colored cloud. “Did Father Paolo send you?”

A woman stood against the wall with a young boy. “We were walking on the roadside. A jitney car lost control. But I think we are in the wrong place.”

“Please, move aside.”

“You heard him. Move aside.” An older woman banging a frying pan with a wooden spoon called out to me. “The bastard was cheating me. I was haunting him. He was almost ready to jump from the cliff until this stupid woman called.” She also pointed down the hall toward the dining room. “They should not let just any fool use those boards.”