Moonlight Curse: The Hunger

Chapter 8

I woke up screaming, sweating and panting. Pac and Macy were whimpering and scooting to get closer to my side. I sat up, each hand patting and soothing them both. I thought I was calming them, but truthfully, the gesture was calming me.

I needed to call Samuel. I checked the time; as usual it was 3:13 a.m. According to Ina, 3:00 am to 3:33 am are the hours the guardian angels leave their posts to gather on the beach, awaiting the sound of the first trumpet signaling the sunrise. It was their way of saluting the awesome power of God.

I used to think that she got it from the movie, City of Angels. But the legend came first than Hollywood. Plus, in that movie, the angels of death were the ones who gathered at sunrise. However, in our legends, the angels of death gather at the rise of the full moon, awaiting the death of many during the rebirth or re-surfacing of dark forces.

According to popular beliefs in almost every culture all over the world, 3:00 a.m. is therefore the hour of the devil, a way to mock the Holy Trinity (The Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit). The devil can roam the earth with his demons free to taunt the sleeping souls in their dreams. Thus, myths and legends gave birth to the incubus (male form) and the succubus (female form). These are demons that lie upon their victims to paralyze them in their sleep in order to have s****l relations with them. Repeated i*********e with these demons had been proven deadly. But this supernatural union could also produce offspring just like the legendary figure named Merlin, a Cambion (medieval term for a son of a mortal and a demon) wizard featured in the legends of King Arthur's Court. Other wizards and witches also came to existence because of these unions even at present times. As a huntress and with my suppressed gifts, I was taught as early as 13, once I got my first menstrual period to protect myself from the Incubus. Scary thing to teach a young adolescent but hey, my family aren't a typical one.

Imagine a twelve year old riding the swing and shrieking with pure joy, when her Mama shouted at her to get down and follow her inside the house. I thought then, I was in deep trouble, I should have not let myself act that way, Mama might have thought it inappropriate for young ladies like me. When we got to the house, she told me to go and take a bath with warm water and rock salt. I knew something supernatural had happened to me on the swing.

So, I did. But only a few seconds from stripping n***d, I screamed with all my might. Naturally, I was bleeding from down there. I thought some invisible creature had r***d me and I was already a dirty maiden that's why my Mama told me to bathe in warm water with rock salt. It didn't occur to me at all that I was menstruating!

Mama knocked on my door then when she heard me sobbing loudly. But instead of comforting me, she just screamed from outside the bathroom door, "Stop the drama, child! You are menstruating! Take a bath and we proceed with the saging (a process of spells using sage and other herbs) to protect you from the Incubus! And we must call your Aunt Lolita!"

Man, my mother was really a gentle soul, wasn't she?

Anyway, stop the reminiscing... As I was saying, in Filipino culture, we also have dark spirits taunting us at these hours like the "Batibat and Bangungot". The latter is very deadly and has been proven to be common mostly amongst Filipino men! Doctors have linked Bangungot to acute hemorrhagic pancreatitis. While superstitious Filipinos believe ingesting loads of carbohydrates or overeating causes Bangungot. 

Bangungot is believed by my ancestors as demons feeding off of the victims' high spirits or depression. Men who die of Bangungot were often reported to be drinking, eating and laughing a lot before sleeping for the night. It is either the victim was truly happy or just very depressed and suicidal deep inside. The sleep demons attack their victims in their deepest sleep causing paralysis and moaning. If the victim is not awakened as soon as he moans and seems to be in pain, by lying on top of him and giving him your full weight, he can die. By crushing him with your weight, you are actually preventing the demons from snatching his soul from under him. Without a badang, a broad knife with pointless blade made out of iron and carbon, but its sharp edge was casted or purely made of silver, under one's pillow or under your bed, you can become an easy victim. 

Batibat, on the other hand, is more of a taunting spirit of a dead person or an elemental being/nature spirit but not a demon. It gives you nightmares until you wake up feeling doomed, depressed, scared and even manic. Some were driven out of their sanity because of constant attacks from Batibat. The weak committed suicide to free themselves from sleepless nights or nightly scary visions from these spirits.

For mediums, psychics, gifted Seers, healers and spirit channelers, the devil's hours are also their most susceptible times to venture other unworldly realms. I then figured out on my own, why I always sensed danger or had dreams of the past or future at that ungodly hour. My Aunt Gloria used to envy my gift. But I personally hated and was afraid of it. My family always took my dreams seriously. They considered them as omens. They always believed I had a strong connection to all levels of frequency on this planet. If you'll ask if I can see dead people, luckily I do not have that curse. What I have, as explained by local Babaylans (women faith healers, priestesses or good witches) in our barrio, my third eye was being blindfolded by my will to suppress my true complete and purest gift. So what the spirits and unseen beings were giving me, were just a peep show of their world. I was like a peeping tom, if you asked me. I was the uninvited kid in an adult conversation, trying my best to peep under the table or crouched behind the couch eavesdropping.

I chose that path; I had no intention of widening my view of the spirit and elemental world as one Babaylan sought me out to help me achieve my fullest potential. I ran away from those types of people all throughout my teenage years. My family was also supportive of my decision and so they protected me from those who tried to make me their new "Merlin's Apprentice".

But having this kind of gift gave me a double dose of conscience. As my crazy Aunt Lolita said, she was by the way a genuine and talented medium, psychic, and a good witch, "You have three guardian angels Maya, that's why you are always re-thinking about the morality of an action over and over. Sometimes, these guardian angels do not agree too. That's why you are taking too long to decide! Do you hear voices arguing in your head sometimes?"

I screamed at her, "I am not schizophrenic!"

She further explained then that all gifted mediums have either 2 to even 12 guardian angels. Because, they are constantly being attacked day and night by both good and evil spirits either needing their help or wanting to have a free ride of their earthly body. A team of guardian angels were commissioned to protect these open-accessed body shells, sometimes even their own very souls can freely exit their physical bodies and roam around this plane or higher planes for days. These types of mediums are called "Biyaheros" or "Travellers".

If you had seen that horror flick "Insidious", all men have the ability for astral projection, but only few are gifted enough to control these abilities at will and while asleep.

Just imagine if they, or should I say we have no guardian angel, and then I guessed and pictured only the worse... Perhaps, that's what happened to Hitler.

I read stories as a child how he got into a trance whenever he addressed his Nazi soldiers. As if he was not the one controlling his mind and his body. So, I did suspect, his guardian angels were weaker than the forces attacking him. And he turned out to be the most evil man in history.

Going back to my nightmare, I would not wait any second longer. I knew my brothers were both light sleepers. Even a drop of a leaf on the roof could awake them.

One ring..."Maya, what's wrong?" Samuel's sleepy voice answered.

Then another irritated yet concerned voice was heard in the background, "Is she okay?" Dan asked.

"I'm fine, just fine. I had a dream... more of a nightmare really."

"Okay, wait. I'll put you on speaker.

"I narrated every single, disturbing detail graphically. Every sound, smell and emotion was described bit by bit. I ensured they both got every part of that dream drilled into their heads as if they were there in that b****y field too.

"I meant to call you last Wednesday night when Meg and I were on our way to Laoag. I wanted to get Meg out of there first then go back," he sighed and continued, "Meg was right when she told me that the witness was lying and it was not an evil cult that killed the cows."

"What happened in Alicia, Sam?" I asked.

"Remember when you called up, and I was in a hurry because a witness came forward. Meg and I went to the police station, I was there as a consultant. I knew the chief of police from past hunts. So, he let me sit in during the questioning. Meg was outside, she is underage."

As Sam narrated, I imagined in my head the scenario he was describing.

The witness was a 24 year old guy named Mariano. He lived in the village near the field where the cows were killed. He was on his way home and about to cut through the field when he heard whispered voices coming from the left side. On the right side was the barn where the cows were locked for the night. So, Mariano stopped climbing the fence and waited to see who was coming.

He said, he saw 7 hooded figures advancing from his left and so he crouched low and out of sight. One by one, they removed their hoods and he saw their faces. There was a spotlight on the edge of the field, the owner shone every evening to ward off wolves and the legendary Oso, a half bear-half man shape-shifter the locals believed to be hunting the night for food.

My brothers once investigated the legend of the Oso who roamed the Isabela province; they got home changed men after 6 months of hunting around Isabela. They never spoke of their adventures but I read their logs in our Family Journal, it was a leather-bound notebook, 15" in height, 12" wide and almost 10 inches thick. It was given to my mother when she was 18 years old. It was a rite of passage from my grandparents to a daughter they trusted who would someday marry a hunter and bear hunter children. They had that much faith in my mother's ability. And so instead of a debut party or debutante ball, my mother was initiated to the hunter's life. She also received the full-pledged hunter's kit consisted of a silver dagger with ivory handle and leather sheath, a creepy rosary made from the bone of a saint, a silver rectangular flask for holy water, a rope made from the tail of a stingray, a Latin book of prayers, a silver 10 inches crucifix, and her weapon of choice was a bow and arrows.

Our F.J. as I called the hard bound book was kept in a secret place only known to the five of us. Every single hunt was narrated in detail in that book. It was a collection of good and evil sups and their weaknesses, powers and strengths. It became our guide as well as our legacy.

Pulling back my attention to Sam's story, the boy witnessed some sort of a rite being performed by the 7 hooded figures. They were speaking a make-up language, he said. Then, at the end of the chanting, they removed their hoods and the boy did not recognize any of them. They were "Dayo" or visitors. The 7 men each had daggers, proceeded to hypnotize the cows to subdue them and finally sliced through their abdomen to take out their hearts and livers.

He told the police the exact position of the cows, which was accurate based on the scene reports. So, the police never doubted any of his testaments.

But for Meg, it was all a lie after he heard it from Sam." That's bull crap!" she even exclaimed. Such colorful language was picked up from Daniel, no doubt.

"I know, but the police were convinced, I'll talk with the chief. Stay where you are." Sam went inside the viewing room again.

Then the boy remembered another detail about the 7 men. Upon hearing it, Sam bolted out of the door and half dragged a confused and irritated Meg along.

"Uncle, what's wrong?" Meg asked.

"I have to get you out of here," he answered while scanning his surroundings.

They got into the jeep and he drove as fast as he could, away from Alicia.

I knew something was wrong and Daniel spoke, "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"We were traveling with Meg and Marie the whole time. I could not risk them over hearing."

"So that was what Meg was bitching on you about? What happened Sam, why did you run away from a possible hunt?" Dan asked.

I dreaded the answer because deep within, I knew what had happened.

"The 7 men the boy had identified were all hunters, Dan," Sam answered, and added "I needed to get Meg out of there for safety then I would go back."

Then, I heard an incoming footsteps, Meg was listening in on the conversation and she spoke, "Uncle, I'm not a kid any more, you should have been honest with me. I am not stupid, I knew something was wrong. We should have stayed and helped. You knew the chief of police, you could have told him those men were not cult members but hunters."

"Meg, they used to be hunters," he slowly answered. 

Then Dan injected, "7 hunters..." he paused to let out a sigh and added, "You don't say, those were the Lost Seven?"

"No way," I whispered, pulse was beating faster and I was getting colder, "But those were just stories, right?"

"Who were they Uncle Dan?" Meg asked. 

My two brothers were dead silent. So, Meg redirected her question to me, "t**s, who are they?"

"They were once strong, magnificent hunters who bonded together to hunt an evil alpha werewolf and its pack up in the mountain province. They were hot on the beasts' trails for almost a year. Then, they vanished without a trace along with the pack of werewolves. Peace was restored on those parts. Rumors were, they were either killed or got turned." I answered with reverence. The 7 hunters were made heroes amongst hunters. Until today, their legend lives on.

"Uncle, are you sure it was them?" Meg asked Sam who answered, "Each wore a talisman necklace, the boy told the chief. That's how I knew who they were."

Dan added, "Necklaces they got from Ama before they headed up to the mountains, I was just 10 years old and Sam was 8 when we saw each man receive Ama's blessings and put the necklace over each head."

"So, you reckoned they were the ones responsible for the cows?" I asked.

"No, someone knew who they were and made them their scapegoats," Dan answered.

"How can you be so sure?" I asked.

"Because the Lost Seven were dead a long time ago. Ama went up where they were seen last and came home with proofs... their necklaces," Sam answered for Dan and added, "Ama had to go looking for them because one of them was his son, Marco.

"We were all silent for a while lost in thoughts and prayer of peace for Uncle Marco, the youngest child of Ama.

Someone sighed and it was Meg, "Then why did we run if they were not responsible for the killings?" she was as confused as I was returning to my brother's bizarre behavior.

"Because, realizing someone knew who they were, meant he knew a lot of things about hunters. It meant they are not only evil sups which lose their minds when they transform. They are the new breeds who plan, think and then kill," Sam explained and continued, "They have a deeper agenda, and so they are setting off the police into a merry goose chase so they can buy time to orchestrate whatever their plan is."

"And that makes them even more dangerous than the vilest of all evil sups. Because they possess the thinking capacities of humans but the heart and soul of the devil," Dan said.

"We should finish it, uncle. We should start with the witness. I am sure he was part of the killing and knew about hunters. He could even be a monster too!" Meg said to Sam.

Before Sam could agree or disagree, "I should finish it," I answered instead.

"Ha, that's something. Go, t**s!" Meg exclaimed.

"Are you sure? You are out of shape and out of practice, kid," Dan said, who was being my jerk big brother again which was kinda endearing and pissing me off at the same time.

"Don't worry, I still have my grooves," I answered with arrogance, "Plus, I'm nearer. Just follow me there as soon as you can. I'm leaving at day break."

And before I could listen to anymore arguments or criticism about my qualifications for the job, I ended the call and went to pack my overnight bag.

Then, it dawned on me; I looked out of the window and gazed at the fading moonlight. Three days from now, the moon would be in its full cycle which meant all the dark creatures and evil spirits would become stronger, angrier and crazier. As a kid, I used to call the phenomenon "Luna Mania."

So whatever or whoever that evil sup in my dream was, she had to be killed before the full moon, or else, she'll be harder to exterminate. It would be a bigger challenge.

Remembering that February's full moon is called the "Hunger Moon", I understood why the bride in my dream had hungrily bitten on the human heart. By the rise of the Hunger Moon, every monster would crave human blood and they could not do anything to control their bloodlust.

If human beings are believed to be crazier or sometimes act like a lunatic if born in the month of February because of its incomplete days. Therefore some believed though never proven, anyone born in February has lesser brain neurons or has underdeveloped brains. Same theory is true and correct with monsters, though. Every February, monsters are crazier and hungrier because of a shortened or lengthened moon cycle. It's also the only month that can pass without a single full moon. It happened last February 1999 and will happen again in 2018, as I've read in Wikipedia and National Geographic TV shows. Now it's Saturday, if I leave for Alicia at that hour, I would be there by night fall. If god was on my side, I had one night and a day to hunt it down.

Ah hell, without knowing it, I came to a decision.

"One last hunt, Maya." I muttered to myself.