Nightmares Rise Read online

  That door was shut before Flynn had a chance to get inside.

  CHAPTER 18

  Flynn watched the door slam and flopped down on the couch. He wanted to knock on the door and ask her to forgive him, or at least understand. He’d rather live without her than have her die because he was too stubborn to walk away. He didn’t want to leave. He certainly didn’t want to go home with a ruined camera, shattered dreams, and no money. And have to face a family who could say nothing but ‘we told you so’.

  He put his elbows on his legs and his chin on his hands. He wished he could think of a way that meant he could stay. Short of dropping a giant bucket of salt on the whole island, he couldn’t see how he could. For her sake, what choice did he have? The monsters might not go away if he left, though. That was the biggest flaw in his reasoning. By going, he might be leaving her more vulnerable than she already was. Or maybe he was clutching at straws, trying to think up excuses not to leave. One thing was patently evident, she was angry enough that she’d probably never forgive him anyway.

  The bedroom door opened, and Makani stepped out in clean clothes. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but they were dry. She didn’t look at Flynn as she stepped into the kitchen, opening the large closet, and pulled out the twenty-five-pound rice bag. Without a word, she took the camera and dropped it into the bag, covering it with the grains and pushed it over to Flynn. Sitting on the chair closest to the door, she finally spoke, “You gonna get washed up?”

  No, I want to share a shower with you and then go to bed and make love all night.

  Flynn shrugged. “I can clean up at my place while I wait for a flight. It won’t leave until late.” If he could get a seat. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to get out his phone and look yet. He’d need a taxi too. For a moment he thought of asking for a ride to the airport, but he thought better of it. A clean break would be easier. For them both.

  He pushed himself up off the chair and trudged around gathering up the bits and pieces of stuff he’d left lying around her place.

  Makani just nodded, and sat back. She watched him, tucking her knees up to her chin. If he looked closely, he could see the tears welling up, but they didn’t spill over. “Whenever you’re ready . . . ” her voice was rough as she spoke, and the words were cut off as her teeth clicked together, jaw clamped tight.

  How about never?

  “I think that’s everything.” He couldn’t look at her face. If he did that, he’d never leave. He patted his back pocket. His phone was still there. “Let’s hope we don’t run into anything on the way.” He tried to joke, but he’d rather face a mananaggal than a thirteen-hour flight. And his mother.

  “Don’t forget your camera.” She grabbed her keys up and shoved her feet into a pair of sandals. Makani wiped her eyes and started out the door, leaning down to pet a cat sitting on the bottom step of the porch.

  “Yeah.” He grabbed it up, rice and all and carried it to the door. “Thanks.” He tried to open the door, but with full hands, he couldn’t manage. He snorted, but even that was forced. So much for a clean break. He couldn’t even get out the door.

  She finally looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks. Shooing the cats out of the way, she made her way back up the porch. Makani grabbed the door and flung it open, looking up at the man for a long moment before she took a step back.

  He tried not to, but his eyes went to her face. He saw her red, wet eyes, the trickles of tears on her cheeks, the sadness he’d caused her. All of his resolved dissolved like a disembodied tongue in salt. He dumped the contents of his arms down onto the floor and took her hand. He pulled her toward him gently.

  “I don’t want to leave,” he said earnestly. “Maybe we can find a way out of this. Together.” Or maybe she’ll kick my ass out the door like she probably should.

  On her face, adozen different emotions warred for dominance, but Makani broke down and sobbed. She clung to the front of his shirt and held on for dear life. “I don’t . . . I don’t think I can do this alone. I know it sucks, having all this crap follow you around, and it’s not supposed to be your problem, it’s mine, and . . . and . . . ”

  He put his arms around her and let her cry. And cry. He rubbed her back with one hand and muttered soothing words in her ear. “It’s ok, come on? Don’t cry, please? I won’t go. We’ll deal with this, you and me, even if we have to find a tiny island and draw them out there so they don’t bother anyone else. Please don’t cry. I’ll stay okay. I love you.”

  She looked up at him and sniffled, “Don’t say things you don’t mean just ‘cause a girl’s crying.” Her fingers tightened on his shirt and she buried her nose against his chest.

  Flynn hesitated. “I do mean it,” he said firmly. “I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re even beautiful when you’re wiping snot onto my shirt.” He smiled and leaned down to kiss the tears off her cheeks.

  “Was not.” She sniffled again, and pulled back. “Fine, I love you, too. Even if you don’t have a green card.” She gave him a watery chuckle, her hands snaking around his shoulders as she leaned forward to kiss his lips.

  “Just a green shirt,” he muttered. He met her half way, his mouth capturing hers. He could taste tears on her lips. The salt didn’t make her taste any less sweet. Instead, the tears made her seem more human, more vulnerable. They reminded him how easily he could lose her. He would never try to throw her away again.

  Makani didn’t say anything. Instead, she pushed him back through the door, her mouth never leaving his. The slam was followed by a growl as a cat nearly lost its tail, and she pulled her face away just long enough to look back apologetically. “Sorry, dude!” And she returned the kiss, her hands yanking at Flynn’s shirt to get it off him.

  He put up his arms to help her, then started pulling up hers, his hands brushing over her warm skin. He wasn’t the most experienced guy, when it came to women, but he’d been around enough to know that no woman felt the way she did. No one excited him the way she did. He wanted to taste, touch, feel and hear every inch of her. His body and his heart were tied to her, for good or not.

  She let him return the favor, before falling back into his arms, her nose angling up towards his neck. She breathed in his scent, found it pleasing, and licked her tongue out to tease the skin where his neck met his shoulder.

  He shivered. His hands stroked down her belly until his thumbs hooked into the top of her shorts. He found the fastenings and worked them undone, his fingers shaking with urgency. He pushed them down to her knees and let gravity take them the rest of the way down. He straightened back up to start working on unhooking her bra. Black and lacy, it was almost a shame to remove it, but her bare skin was much more enticing.

  Stepping out of her clothes, she let her bra slide down her arms. She moved back to Flynn and pressed herself to him, her fingers caressing down his shoulders and sides. “How do you want me? Where do you want me?”

  “Oh no, no, no, it’s your turn to decide,” he murmured, his face buried in her hair. She was wild and creative. He was more than happy to let her run wild with him. There was no way he’d be disappointed, ever. No matter what.

  Makani looked up at Flynn with her big brown eyes regarding him steadily. “Come.” She took his hand and pulled him to the old recliner, kicking the door shut and closing the blinds as they passed. She unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down with his boxer shorts, before pushing him back onto the chair. “Here.”

  He grabbed the armrests as he fell back, trying to slow his descent somewhat. He still bounced a little, the recliner leaning backward in protest at his sudden weight. His eyes never left hers. He stared into their warm brown depths, but he wasn’t sure what she had in mind. A few things went through his head and he liked them all. Then the blood left his brain and rushed south and he didn’t bother to think at all.

  “Is there nothing you don’t do well?” He watched her face, focused on her eyes, her mouth, her touch . . . If a mananaggal killed him tomorrow, it would
have been worth staying for one more night. Even one more minute of this was such exquisite bliss, he thanked his lucky stars that she’d forgiven him for almost walking away.

  She smiled at him,”I can’t sing.”

  “Oh yes, you can.” He assured her, smiling absently. Hearing her moan was music to his ears.

  She sighed deeply, her hands cupping his face and drawing it towards hers for a searing, deep kiss.

  “Oh. My . . . ” He didn’t get any further than that. His head fell back, eyes closed tightly to heighten his other senses. All he could feel was warmth, all over and through his body. Every bit of him was burning and tingling. He could smell the scent of her—clean, soapy, desire. He ran his hands down her back and cupped her hard little rear. He could do this all day and all night.

  Her hands trailed down, one hand coming to rest on his chest, over his heart. The other moved lower, stopping on his hip, steadying herself. Makani shivered on him, her eyes closing with the pleasure they were sharing. Their rhythm was in perfect synch, rise, fall, again and again.

  Her cheeks and neck flushed under her tan and it was hard to breathe for long moments. Her head fell back as she clutched tight to his body. It felt like forever. It didn’t last long enough. When their bodies stilled, she slumped against Flynn, her hands moving gently over his skin. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, “Is this what Jeff Buckley was talking about?”

  “Who? Is that another guy you know?” He frowned.

  “Jealous man.” She reached up and brought his face close, a smile on her lips. “He might sing my life story, but I’ve only got eyes for you.” Her statement was punctuated by another kiss, one that would leave them both breathless.

  Once they came up for air, he cupped her cheek with his palm. “I love you, lovely lady. Damn, if my camera was working I’d ask you pose for me, just as you are.” Bloody mananggal.

  She opened her mouth to say something, but instead “I love you too,” was all that came out. An idea came to her, and she kissed his cheek. “If you’re willing to move, I’ll show you something.”

  “I can move,” he agreed. If only because she piqued his curiosity. “What do you want to show me?” It would have to be good to be worth moving from this blissful position.

  “You’re just gonna have to follow me and see.” She disengaged herself from Flynn and started down the hall, her nudity evidentially not bothering her one iota. “Come, you’re going to like this. Promise.”

  “I already do.” He watched her hips swinging, naked rear round and sweet. She had long, shapely legs that went on for days. He didn’t need a camera, her image was seared into his brain forever.

  She led him to the spare bedroom, the one filled with boxes, old furniture, and shelves full of mementos. Reaching to the top of one, she pulled down a faded leather photo album, and took out a folder. “You wanted to see the picture?”

  “Only if you really want to show me.” If she changed her mind, he wouldn’t complain too loudly. The view was pretty good already. Tearing his eyes away from the real thing to look at a mere picture might not be that easy. The fact that she trusted him enough to show him, spoke volumes that he couldn’t have ignored. He wasn’t going to take that trust for granted.

  She rolled her eyes and offered the folder to Flynn. “I’d rather you see it now, than later. Like Charlie said, my ass is currently being shown around the world. What if you . . . ” She paused for a second. “Go home and happen to catch it at an art exhibition?”

  “I’d recognize it and smile, because I know the real thing is even better than the facsimile.” He ran a hand over her hip. No matter how good the picture was, it just couldn’t compete with Makani in the flesh.

  She laughed low in her throat, and turned around to lean back against the shelf. She caught his hand and pulled him close, her arms wrapping around Flynn’s neck. “Are you trying to get me started again?”

  “Are you trying to distract me so you don’t have to show me the picture?” He leaned down to nuzzle her neck.

  “— Yes. But only because the distraction is better.” She nibbled along his chin, and brought her nose to press against his. “We really need a bath. And then we should see if the memory card survived the gut bath it took.”

  “Photo first,” he insisted. “Then bath.” Although he couldn’t forget the skinned cats the first time they’d tried to have a bath here. That seemed like weeks ago already, not days.

  “Fine.” She handed the folder over to Flynn, and let him go. Crossing her arms over her middle, she scrunched her nose up in anticipation of his reaction.

  He opened the folder slowly, smiling at her in anticipation. The picture itself was tastefully done. And familiar. She had matured since; her body that of a woman now and not a girl.

  “Cute, but I like you better now.” He closed the folder and handed it back. “You’re braver than I am. I wouldn’t have posed for it.” Standing in her house naked was enough for him.

  She blinked twice, “Seriously? That’s all? Do you see that booty? And you know you would kill to be that pillow!” Her finger jabbed accusingly at the folder, but there was a smile on her face.

  “Unless you seduced the pillow, then hell no.” He grinned. “So, about that bath . . . ”

  “Yeah, yeah. Can I take naked pictures of you in my bed? Then I can put it next to mine, and they can face each other.” She pushed him out the door, and started back to the bath house.

  Neither one noticed the shadow move across the window.

  “No. How about we just face each other in your bed?” That was better than having naked pictures of him anywhere. Knowing his luck, they’d end up on the Internet where some vindictive ex-girlfriend would see them. Or worse, his mother. Not that she’d put them there. He knew she’d never do something so vindictive, no matter what happened between them. The security of phones, that was what he didn’t trust.

  “Fine . . . killjoy!” She leaned against the back door and pulled Flynn close for another kiss. It rattled under their weight as she ran her hands over his bare skin. But then, the door rattled again on its own.

  “What the hell was that?” She whispered, and pushed Flynn back from the door.

  “A cat? A zombie horse?” Please, not a zombie horse. “A stray goat?” They could deal with a goat, even though they ate everything.

  Stringy hair hung down from above, followed by a gnarly clawed hand, and Makani knew exactly what was there. “I think we’re taking a bath in the kitchen sink.”

  “Damn, I was really hoping it’d be a goat,” Flynn remarked, almost resigned to, yet another incursion from the all-too-real imaginary monster. “I’m not having a bath anywhere with that thing around. I need revenge for my camera. And your shoe. Have you got any more salt? Or a flamethrower?” Oh please, he’d love a flamethrower. A guy could dream.

  “Uuuhhh—I’ve got something just as good as a flamethrower!” Makani sped off into her room, throwing things around. It made the creature crawling over her walls hiss, its tongue licking out. But where it saw cracks to get in, little piles of salt kept it at bay. When she came charging back, there was a large can of hairspray and a zippo in her hands. “Here ya go!”

  While she was getting that, Flynn had found his shorts and pulled them on.

  He grinned. “Awesome. Time for some hasta la vista!” He pushed the back door open.

  “Yo, ugly, over here!” He waited for the mananagaal to notice him. It turned around and hissed, before crawling down the line of the roof, unsettling shingles as it went. It moved slowly, like a cross between a bat and a spider. He watched, holding his nerve. His heart raced and his palm sweated. He could feel the adrenaline surging through his system.

  The mananaggal flicked out its tongue.

  Flynn depressed the nozzle on the spray can, then flicked the zippo open. The flame on the lighter caught the hairspray on fire, which gave the tongue a licking of its own.

  The monster squealed and retreated, its t
ongue on fire. A few seconds later it burst into flame and exploded, sending what smelled like barbecued sausage flying in chunks through the air.

  “Wow . . . ” Makani stared open mouthed at Flynn, guts, and gore hanging from her hair. “I should be grossed out, but I’m actually kind of turned on.” She flicked off a chunk of tongue from her shoulder.

  “Never get between an Aussie guy and a barbecue.” Flynn grinned, invigorated. “All I need now is a beer. And a bath.” Maybe that wasn’t quite revenge for his camera, but it was a bloody good start.

  “Beer’s in the fridge. I’ll get some towels . . . and a scouring pad to get this crap off us.” she minced her way back to the closet, careful not to make a bigger mess than there already was.

  “I’ll go and fill the bath.” He wiped a lump of something off his shoulder and flicked it into the bin. Walking past the fridge, he grabbed two beers on the way to the bath house. Something cold and relaxing might help his adrenaline to diminish and his heart to slow. Not that it wasn’t one hell of a rush.

  He turned the taps on, stripped off again and climbed into the tub, rinsing under the running water as it rose around him.

  Makami stepped into the bathroom, clean towels hanging from one hand. She dropped them on a bar close to the tub and sat on the edge, looking up at Flynn with a bemused expression. “I like this action hero bit you’ve got going on. It suits you!”

  He chuckled. “You’re rubbing off on me, Catwoman. Plus, the more I get to know you, the more the idea of those things hurting you pisses me off. Is that too Neanderthal?” He cracked a beer open and took a sip.

  “Just a little. But as long as you don’t expect me to sit back and let you take care of everything, it’s allowable.” She started rinsing off the filth, scraping off the stuff that had gotten stuck to her skin.

  He snorted. “Not a chance. Besides, I don’t think I could top that anyway.” He dunked his head under the water and rinsed the burnt meat from his hair. Suddenly, fatigue started to catch up with him, mixed with a heavy dose of reality. He didn’t know how long they could go on fighting manananggal, kappa and faceless torch wielding men, not to mention hell knew what else, before they made a fatal mistake.