Nightmares Rise (Dark Shores Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  “Really?” Flynn looked hopeful, if a touch guilty. “That’s faster than I’ve ever managed to ditch them before. They’re going to start to think I have a problem with them.” Which was reasonably accurate. “I did tell you how trying they were.” He was sure that plenty of families were much worse than his, but that didn’t mean he had to put up with them any longer than was strictly necessary. Nor did they have to put up with him, though.

  “If we’re quick, we can be off before they even notice. What’s the worst that can happen? My family disowns me. I can live with that.” He’d miss them, if not their issues, but he knew it would never come to that. They’d just click their tongues and hope he’d grow up eventually.

  “I doubt they’ll disown you for wandering off with a beautiful stranger. You can blame me if anything. Let’s make a break for it.” She started tugging him down the other side of the hill, where the cars were parked and no one could see them go until they were out of the parking lot.

  “Don’t think I won’t blame you,” he joked. He jumped into the jeep, made sure his camera was there and did up the seatbelt. He’d rather stay and spend the rest of the day and night with his family than leave his camera behind.

  “Where to then?” he asked. “They know where my place is already.” Although a change of clothes and a shower might be nice. Not in that order. Running around with Makani was fun, but it was a bit rustic and he was feeling grubby.

  “Do you really think they would follow you back to your place? I mean, really?” She scoffed, and put the jeep into reverse, nearly killing an old man looking for recyclables.

  “Have you ever seen that movie where all the zombies were hanging off the side of the car while it was moving? They’d do that if they’d seen us leave.” Flynn was grinning to show that he was joking. “No, I don’t really think they’d follow us.” He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, opened the browser and checked the flights out of Honolulu. “Just in case, we only have to hide for four hours. If they take the first flight back to Sydney.”

  He startled as the phone rang in his hand. Glancing at the screen, he grimaced. “They’ve noticed we’re missing already.” He glanced back over his shoulder and saw Emma, her phone against her ear. “Do you think they’ll believe that we ducked off for ice cream?” He felt a little bit bad about ditching them. And a little bit relieved. He winced as he pressed ignore.

  “You could tell them we had to find somewhere to have sex, since we don’t have the kids?” She smiled and shrugged, glancing in her rearview mirror.

  “Can it be true?” he replied immediately. “Then I might not feel so bad.” A few minutes with her and he’d be thinking whatfamily? A few more and he’d forget his own name. She just had that effect on him.

  “Sure, but I’m not doing it in this jeep! I had a dead monster where you’re sitting!” Makani snorted and floored it, effectively getting them away from Flynn’s family.

  “Bah, it’s only guts,” And yet he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “I guess this means you don’t want to go to Sydney to spend Christmas with me and my family?”

  CHAPTER 15

  Makani usually ran herself so hard, she would fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. But sometimes, her mind didn’t turn off, and she would dream. In most dreams, she was the heroine in her own action-adventure movie. Swinging through trees, and raiding tombs. But in this dream, she found herself face to face with something much more sinister.

  She walked along the long road through Wahiawa, up to Whitmore Village. The darkness was oppressive, and she had nothing to light the way. The gravel crunched under her feet as she came across a man pushing a noodle cart. It had a lantern swinging from a rickety covering, like something out of a Kurosawa movie. Confused, she waded through the murky waters of her own sleeping mind, and asked the man, “Where are you going?”

  The man didn’t say a word. He pulled the paper lantern down, and brought it close to his face. Turning around as if to look at her, Makani clearly saw the stuff of nightmares; he had no face. No nose, no eyes, no mouth. In her dream, she screamed in terror and tried to run away.

  In a moment, she had shot awake, and Makani realized she had been screaming in her sleep.

  Flynn rolled over and quickly put his arms around her. One hand went to her back, the other to stroke her hair.

  “Shhhh,” he soothed. “It’s just a dream, that’s all. Just a dream.”

  Taking deep breaths, she shut her eyes tight for a second. When she opened her eyes again, Makani held tight to Flynn, and let out a shuddering breath.

  “It’s always so real . . . I was so scared . . . ”

  “Do you want to tell me about it? You didn’t dream about my nieces, did you? They’re half way back to Sydney by now, but they were pretty scary.” His voice was light but he held her a little tighter.

  Makani shook her head, “No. Not your nieces.” She looked at the window and sighed. “It’s not even dawn, yet. Let’s try to get some more sleep, okay?” She eased them both back onto the pillows but made no move to pull away from Flynn.

  “I’m wide awake now.” His hands ran lightly over her hip and belly. “Unless you really want to sleep?”

  She smiled at him through the darkness, her foot running over his ankle and up his calf. “I might be persuaded to stay awake.” She leaned in and kissed his lips, her hands moving around to stroke his hair and face.

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” his hand reached for her, moving soft and slow.

  By the time they awoke the second time, the sun was higher over the eastern horizon than either of them was used to waking up to. Makani opened her eyes slowly, and untangled herself from Flynn. She washed up quietly and put on a pot of coffee for them.

  Padding quietly into the spare bedroom, Makani took out a dusty bag and sat at the kitchen table, where she proceeded to carefully put makeup on.

  I can’t believe women used to wake up early just to do this before their husbands woke up, she thought, as she carefully started rolling on another layer of mascara.

  Flynn stood in the doorway watching her for a while, arms crossed over his chest, a smile on his face. “You’re beautiful without that, you know.”

  She poked her eye.

  “Oww!” Makani dropped the brush on the table, blinking hard to clear the goopy mess. She looked up at Flynn with one eye open, “I thought you’d be sleeping a little longer.”

  “I’m an early riser. I was going to go for a run, do you want to come? After that dinner last night, I need a long one.” He patted his belly as though it wasn’t already flat.

  Makani was sorely tempted to push him back into the bedroom and find other forms of exercise they could do. But glancing at the lime green clock on the wall, she chewed her lower lip. “You might not have much time for that. We’re expected downtown in an hour. And you do not keep Charlie Fong waiting!”

  “In that case,” He ducked out of the room. Moments later, the sound of the water in the shower made the house rattle, a counter—point to Flynn’s tuneless singing.

  It didn’t take long for her to finish and get dressed. While she hated putting on fancy clothes, Makani didn’t mind doing it for a good cause: namely, making sure poor Flynnie didn’t have to go back to Australia and deal with his family.

  Flynn’s dark blond hair was damp and combed back neatly. He wore a pair of sand-colored pants and a dark blue shirt. Both were a bit crumpled from being in his overnight bag but were more respectable than shorts and a t-shirt.

  “Do I look okay?”

  “Yep! Handsome!” She leaned up and kissed his cheek, before wiping off the bright smudge of lipstick she left. She smoothed down her own clothes, a red sundress, and slipped her feet into pumps. This was a far cry from what she wanted to wear, but for Flynn, she was willing to step just a little further out of her comfort zone. Grabbing up a floppy hat of her grandmother’s that had recently come back into style, she did a little twist for him and put it on. “I guess
this will do, right?”

  “Is this Ruth-Ann?” he teased. “She’s cute, but I hope Makani comes back later. How does Ruth-Ann drive?” He ducked away, out of her reach, grinning.

  She tapped her toe, and quirked her lips. “Don’t worry, Ruth-Ann only comes out for special occasions. Makani would kick her ass if she was out more.” Grabbing her keys and other important bits, she threw her pack over one shoulder and picked up a tiny purse that might be back in fashion. “Now, let’s go! Charlie really can’t be kept waiting!” She flipped the coffee pot off and thrust a travel mug at Flynn before picking up her own.

  He grabbed the mug, his folder with examples of work and his camera and followed her out. “So who is this Charlie?” He pulled the door of the jeep closed behind him and buckled up. “Old friend?”

  “Actually . . . my junior prom date. He went to an all boys school, and his friends used to smoke pakalolo down my street. So they hooked us up—and then he told me he was gay!” She smiled as she backed the jeep down the driveway, narrowly missing the garbage truck pulling past. “We’ve been friends ever since. But Charlie is big news in the art scene down here. He knows everyone worth knowing.”

  “I thought you knew everyone worth knowing?” He held onto his portfolio with one hand, the handle of the jeep with the other.

  “Sure, but only for poor people stuff. Who makes the best laulau, who knows where to get fireworks. But Charlie knows where the money is.”

  She shrugged as they got into the city, and into the heart of downtown Honolulu. The business district was bustling with people in suits and aloha shirts, people on their way back from whatever coffee or bagel shop they frequented. But drive a street over, and it all changed.

  Chinatown might be a part of Downtown, but it was something completely different. Roast pigs and ducks hung from windows, and people who looked like they came straight out of a Jackie Chan movie shopped and haggled. The buildings were smaller, older, and more likely to have lions or dragons sitting at the corners of their roofs. One, in particular, was impressively old and covered in graffiti.

  “That’s Charlie’s gallery. Upstairs.” Makani parked on the street and made sure to unhook the wires that started the jeep. She steeled herself for what she knew was going to be an interesting conversation.

  “Really? Here?” Flynn looked up at the building doubtfully. Then at the shop next door with some kind of skinned animals he couldn’t identify, hanging in the window. “I suppose we’ll be fine, as long as we avoid the food.”

  “Yeah . . . don’t eat anything that’s already cooked, unless it still has a head. It might not be what the sign says.”

  He couldn’t read the sign, it was in Chinese characters, but the pictures of dogs at the bottom made his stomach turn. Shaking his head, he followed Makami into Charlie’s building.

  They went up a few flights of stairs, and stopped in front of a red door, a stark contrast to the dingy white hall. She knocked quietly, and in a few moments, a refined face poked out.

  “Makani! It’s been so long! Come in, come in! You brought your photographer friend? Good!” Tattoos covered the arms and neck of a tall, thin man. His straight black hair was slicked back, more in fashion around the barrio than Chinatown, but his very white teeth and expensive hipster glasses gave the impression of bright intelligence, and the ink under his manicured nails seemed to be permanently embedded.

  He sat them on a comfy red couch, and started clearing art books and prints from the low table. Charlie started the coffee maker, smiling at the two newcomers. “So, you’re Flynn, right?”

  “That’s right. Thanks for taking the time to see me, Mr. Fong.” Flynn sat perched on the edge of the couch. He glanced at Makani and smiled nervously.

  “Seriously, I’m only Mr. Fong to my CPA and lawyer. Charlie is better.” He set himself on a wingback chair and crossed his legs at the knee. “Welcome to the Dragon Upstairs Gallery.”

  The room was full of a collection of eclectic pieces; photographs, paintings, and a sculpture which looked made of driftwood and rusty staples. One wall was entirely covered by a huge, blown up print of a cigarette butt with red lipstick on the tip. The other three walls matched the lipstick and probably should have detracted from the art, rather than compliment it.

  Flynn turned back to Charlie as he went on. “Makani emailed me a couple days ago, said you had an eye for composition.” He looked at Makani, who feigned boredom by looking at Madonna’s art book. “I usually feature mixed media work here, but island photography is big on the North Shore, and I like to feature stuff that appeals to the less local, on occasion.”

  “A couple of days ago,” Flynn echoed. He raised an eyebrow at Makani but then turned his attention back to Charlie. “The less local? You mean tourists?” He handed his portfolio to the other man and sat back, hands on his knees.

  “No . . . I always figured there were locals to varying degrees. Makani is about as local as you can get. I didn’t even know she had women’s shoes! I thought she only owned rubber slippers and hiking boots.”

  Charlie started leafing through the shots, nodding at the ones he liked. “I was born and raised here, but I’m not like her. Can’t stand the food, the people . . . oh, this one is good. She took you to the jungle?” He pointed out a particular shot from the hike into Makani’s watering hole.

  “Yeah. That was . . . an experience.” Flynn grimaced. “I know what you mean, though. Some Australians seem more English than the English and they’ve lived in Australia all their lives. And some are so Australian they make the rest of us cringe.”

  “Like the Croc Hunter?” Charlie grinned, raising a pierced eyebrow. He closed the folder, and nodded his head, “What do you think of Urban photography? Y’know, the nitty gritty stuff with a lot of stark colors. Or nudes?

  He took out a smokeless marijuana pipe and started puffing away, “Makani probably didn’t tell you, but her ass and side boob are world famous! It’s been shown in Dublin and Germany. Currently, it’s on tour in Tokyo with the artist.” Makani started blushing furiously, and she threw her hat at the man.

  Flynn chuckled and looked Makani up and down. “I’m sure it’s very successful. As for me, I’m happy to photograph just about anything. I’m still trying to find myself as an artist. If you know what I mean? At this point. I’m snapping everything and seeing what comes out and what I prefer in the long run.” Maybe his answer should have been more specific.

  “Hmmm . . . I see.” Charlie tapped the marijuana dispenser against his chin, deep in thought. “Well, there’s a gallery showing on the North Shore this afternoon. If Makani is willing, and you can get up there. Have her introduce you to Todd Freeley. He’s the copy editor for a local magazine, but he also has ties with National Geographic and Travel Magazine. That might be more up your alley. But I want this one.” He pulled a shot of the entrance to the Karst, with the graffiti and dirty run-off. “Good perspective, there.”

  Flynn’s eyes were huge. “Thanks, that’s one of my favorites. It’s a shame that some of the ones inside didn’t work out better.” His eyes found Makani’s briefly. “You up for more driving?”

  “Of course. Charlie, are you coming with?” She stole her hat back from the artist, who had set the floppy thing on his own head.

  “And be seen in that thing you call a car?” He took another drag, “Hell to the no! I got a 280Z, didn’t you hear? Restored to mint, looks like the Mach Five had a pageant baby.”

  “Fine. Your loss. Just don’t hit anyone on the way there.” She kissed Charlie’s cheek, and then slapped him. “That’s for telling him about that picture!” She picked up her handbag and started for the door.

  “We’ll talk prices at the gallery, Flynn,” Charlie smirked, and rubbed his cheek.

  “Sure, thanks, Charlie.” Flynn offered his hand and spoke, his eyes on Makani, shining with mischief. “I’ll have to see that picture some day.”

  Charlie took it and said in sotto voce, “Ask your girl. She’s
got the negatives stashed somewhere.”

  “I burned them!” she called from the door, her cheeks gone bright pink.

  “A good photographer always keeps backups.” Flynn grinned. “Even of negatives and especially of beautiful women.” He chuckled and followed her out the door.

  “Stupid Charlie . . . I can’t believe he brought that up! That was like . . . five years ago!” She slammed the door and started the long process of wiring the jeep. “As if I don’t have dirt on that guy.”

  “Was it legal to take photos of you like that five years ago?” Flynn asked, “At least he didn’t think I was gay. Or did he and he was too polite to ask?”

  “That’s . . . a good question. I think he assumed you and I are an item.” Not that she would deny it, no matter how temporary their current arrangement. “I might not have been legal when those stupid pictures were taken. But no one’s asked who the model was, and my face might not have been the focal point.”

  He grimaced. “Child porn is illegal where I come from. But if you want to pose for me now, I wouldn’t say no.” The boyish grin and dimple were back.

  “Sure . . . but I still have to charge you. Student loans suck!” Makani laughed as they sped onto the freeway.

  “You drive a hard bargain. I need the money to pay mine. Do you know how much they charge for a law degree, even an unfinished one?”

  “Probably about as much as I’m paying.” She laughed, leaning back and tossing her hat. “Oh, they usually serve beer and wine at these things. So make sure I don’t drink! My cousin swears he’s not gonna bail me out of a DUI.”

  He watched as the wind caught her hat and swept it away. It spun through the air and was gone. “Right, no drinking. Same for me, or I might say something I later regret. And then someone will be offended, they’ll kick me out of the country.”

  “These are art people; they’ll be too drunk to remember what you say.” She gave him a cheeky grin and changed lanes, starting the long run up to the north end of the island.

  “As long as they’re sober enough to write the cheques,” he quipped.