Shadows Deepen (Dark Shores Trilogy Book 2)

by Mirren Hogan

  “Manananggal,” she said simply, eyes scanning the fields that stretched out below. “The last ones followed us, I guess.” She leaned back into her chair and sighed, brushing her long hair back.

  “Wouldn’t they be a long way from their legs?” he asked. He passed her a sandwich and bit into his.

  “Maybe, but no one said they were exclusively from back home.” She picked at the sandwich, barely nibbling an edge. “For all we know, there’s a full contingent of creepy things lurking here.”

  “I suppose it’s too much to hope that they lived in that cave we blocked off?” He sat down on the edge of the verandah and leaned against a timber roof support. “Several for the price of one.” Absently, he rubbed his arm where the rock had hit him. Another day, another scar.

  “If there was one that came tonight, there must be more . . . ” She turned her head to look at Flynn, “I really came here to get away from these things. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah well, I don’t think they read the brochure. It was supposed to say ‘Quiet island, crappy pay in return for hard work. Monsters need not apply.’ It’s pretty inconsiderate of them to just show up.” There he went again, using silly jokes to cover his nerves. He scraped his toe along the dirt under his feet. “I was enjoying the peace. And being with you. Damn them.”

  She grabbed his hand, sandwich abandoned in her lap. “I was enjoying the time with you, too. I kind of hoped we’d forget about your travel visa and my job, and it would just go on forever.”

  “And I was hoping to ask Manny if he’d help me get a green card, even if it means picking coffee beans for a while longer. He’s probably going to help us pack after this.” He sighed. Twenty-four hours ago, it had all seemed possible. Now, they might be lucky to see another twenty-four. If he believed in fate, he’d wonder what he’d done to piss it off so badly.

  “Well, that might just happen. But if we leave, and these things go with us . . . would that be so bad? I mean, this is as close to paradise as I’ve ever come.” Makani stared at their hands joined and took a deep breath. “I don’t want anything spoiling this place, most of all.”

  Flynn wasn’t sure how to take that. This might be his last chance to stay, but she was more concerned with keeping monsters out of the area? He could see her point of view. Preserving a culture and its people were more important than one person. Still . . .

  “I suppose we should go as soon as we can then?” He finished his sandwich and wiped his hands on his shorts to wipe off the crumbs.

  “Yeah . . . ” Makani had barely touched hers. She put it to the side and stood but wrapped her arms around Flynn’s neck and straddled his lap. Laying her head against his shoulder, she took deep breaths, like his scent could be memorized. “You know I love you. And you know I would rather die than have you get hurt, right?”

  He wound his arms around her and put his head to the side of hers so their cheeks touched. “I’d prefer it doesn’t come to that. I can’t imagine life without you. Even though it’s only been thirty-seven—thirty-eight—days, I feel like you’re a part of me. The best part, by the way.” He didn’t know how they’d manage it, but they’d be together if he had anything to say about it.

  She shook her head. “Shhh. Please.” Makani kissed him soundly, and held onto Flynn like it was their last moment on Earth. When she finally let him go, it was like she was prying herself away. Standing tall, she picked up the boom-stick and the box of shells, emptying it into her pockets. “Come on. Let’s take care of business.”

  “Okay, but I thought we were supposed to be watching for manananggal?” He gave her a cheeky grin. No matter how tired he was, he could never be too tired to make love to her. He sighed, seeing the look on her face. “Fine, monsters first, fun later.”

  “We’re making sure there’s a ‘later.’ “ She smiled weakly but took his hand and helped him up. “Drive the perimeter, and then we’ll park in the center of the fields. And yes, Manny wants you to drive.” Makani handed the keys over, albeit reluctantly.

  “Of course, he does. Because I’m the rested one.” Not. He took the keys and started toward the truck. “Besides, you’re the one with the big gun. So, you can call shotgun and no one will argue.” That was his dumbest joke yet.

  “He knows better than to let me drive anything. I’d probably flip it, turn it back over, do a couple donuts just to make sure it’s okay, then rinse it down with a drive along the shoreline.” She opened the window and cocked the gun, holding it at the ready. Her eyes scanned the skyline and tops of the coffee plants, mindful of any movements. Not a breeze stirred the leaves, not a single thing moved.

  He started the truck and they headed toward the perimeter. “Better not tell him what happened to my first car then.” He drove slowly, his eyes scanning in front of them. “A manananggal is going to hear this thing coming an hour ahead. If they can hear?” He’d never really stopped to check if they had ears under their greasy hair, or if they worked.

  “Even if they don’t hear, they know where to look. If what Uncle said was true, then we just have to keep driving, and something will find us.” She turned her neck and stretched it, before returning her eye to the sight at the top of the shotgun.

  With that in mind, he accelerated away from the occupied areas of the plantation. When they reached the edges, he slowed. If a manananggal was hunting them, let it come where no one else could get hurt. He stopped the truck and killed the engine.

  “It’s too quiet out there.” He peered out the open window. “It’s creepy.” As sitting out in the dark at around one o’clock in the morning tended to be these days.

  “I know, just keep watching. Let’s get a look in this area first.” Makani got out of the truck and turned on her headlamp. She kept the gun at the ready. “Who knew pig hunting would come in handy?”

  “With bacon as the reward, it sounds pretty useful to me.” He made sure to stay just behind her, out of the line of fire, literally. “I hope there’s not a giant boar lurking out there in the shadows.” He couldn’t help but look, as though a tusk might appear through the trees.

  “I doubt it. We killed ‘em all way back when my brother used to just work here, instead of owning the place.” She actually smiled, but her eyes didn’t leave the barrel of the gun. Something rustled in the coffee plants, and she swung around.

  He followed her movement, peering into the darkness. “Maybe you left one?”

  Something at eye height glimmered off the light of the headlamp.

  Eyes.

  They blinked and continued to stare, sending a chill down Flynn’s spine that ended in his toes.

  “Crap.”

  There wasn’t time to do anything but shoot. Makani fired and caught the tip of a shoulder, sending the creature flying at their heads and over. “Mother fucker!” She tracked it as it took off and sent another shot after it. This one caught its mark and the creature’s chest burst wide open. With an ugly thud and splattering sound, it fell to the ground.

  Green. All green and slimy.

  Flynn felt sick and swallowed a wave of bile. “Good shot.” He hadn’t realized how loud a gun sounded close up. His ears rang with it. The sound made him almost miss hearing another rustle in the trees. He turned just in time to see another manananggal lunge out of the darkness.

  “Makani, behind you!” he called frantically.

  She spun and brought the gun up. The shot took out a wing, but just the bottom edge of the sail. It came at Makani faster than she could reload and grabbed a chunk of her hair, ripping it out. Thrown off balance, she spun and rolled onto her back. The manananggal took off to the sky and wheeled around, coming back at her. She was too busy trying to reload the shotgun to react when it came back down on her as she clicked the barrel shut.

  Flynn was focused on her when he was grabbed from behind. He could smell the manananggal. It stank of decay and rotting meat. He struck out with his elbow, but it pushed him off his feet. He fell and rolled toward the trees. Under
his hand he felt a fallen branch, as thick as his wrist. He grabbed it up as he got to his feet and slammed it across the manananggal’s face. It was knocked backward like a baseball.

  “Makani?” He couldn’t see her past the glare of her headlamp.

  “Get off, get off, get off, get off!” The shotgun was pinned between two struggling bodies and Makani was in a losing battle. She struggled to push the creature off, its guts tangling with her legs. For something with only half a body, it was heavy and strong. Its tongue snaked out, tangling around Makani’s wrist, stopping her from landing a punch.

  Flynn tried to reach her but found another manananggal in his path. How many of these bloody things were there? He swung the branch, but only caught it on its shoulder, making it spin around. It stopped and lunged at him, its tongue flicking out, scraping over his cheek and grabbing him around his neck. He cried out, wildly swinging the branch as he felt his air being cut off.

  ***

  Managing to free her other hand from between their bodies, Makani got the shotgun into a good position—right under the creature’s chin. There wasn’t time to check where Flynn was. She squeezed off a shot and watched in horror as the creature’s head was blown apart in a spectacular display of brains and bone. Luckily, nothing had gotten in her mouth, or Makani might have been sick on the spot.

  Instead, she heaved the headless torso off her body and managed to stand. Swinging herself around, Makani found Flynn tangling with another creature. Without thinking, without quite aiming, she took her shot, and lanced right through the manananggal’s neck, forcing it to loosen its death grip before it crumpled to the ground, gurgling its distress. Gooey green blood bubbled out of the wound like mud in a mud-pot. It seemed to go on forever, glistening and dripping, until eventually the manananggal sagged to the ground as it lay twitching and dying.

  The bullet had gone straight through it, grazing Flynn’s cheek before lodging in the tree behind him. He sank to his knees, gasping for breath, his hand on his neck, while blood trickled down over his wrist.

  “Shit, Flynn! I’m so sorry!” Slinging the gun over her shoulder, Makani rushed to his side, jumping over the dying thing on the ground. Kneeling by his side, she inspected the singed flesh and bit her lip. “You’re gonna have a mean scar from this one . . . ”

  “You find scars sexy, right?” He rubbed his throat. His voice sounded hoarse. She supposed that was to be expected, since he’d almost been strangled to death. “Thanks, by the way. A few seconds longer . . . ” He shook his head.

  She shuddered.

  “Is that all of them?” he asked, his eyes shifting back and forth.

  Something crashed through the trees on the far side of the farm, and sounded like it was coming toward them. “I’ll say no.” She grabbed his hand and yanked him up. “Get in the truck . . . ”

  Whatever was coming had to be big and fast. There wasn’t much time to decide the best course of action. “Now!” Makani pushed Flynn hard, gun raised at the ready and pointing away from him, toward the sound of crashing and movement.

  Flynn was on the wrong side of the truck. He dove through the passenger side door and into the driver’s seat. He left the door open for her and turned the key, ready to drive if escape was their only option.

  CHAPTER 18

  “Start the truck! Come on!” Makani slammed the door and sat on the window sill. She trained the sight of the shotgun in the direction of the sounds of destruction coming toward them. The thing wasn’t visible, but the shaking trees and hissing was proof of what was coming.

  Flynn gunned the engine. The truck roared, the tires spinning on the dirt. “C’mon, you heap of—” The truck leaped forward, away from whatever it was that hunted them.

  “Whoa!” Makani nearly fell over but managed to hold onto the bitch bar. She refrained from making comments about male drivers and used her time more wisely by reloading. Just beyond the beam of the truck’s tail lights, she spotted movement low to the ground. Makani readjusted her headlamp and caught the eye-shine of an animal. A reptilian animal, with its jaws wide open and ready to strike.

  The Mo’o leapt at the bumper and managed to scramble into the bed. “Holy shit!” Makani took a shot, and narrowly missed the giant lizard. “Ah, crap!” She fired again; this time she caught its tail and half of it blew apart.

  They reached an open area and Flynn turned the wheel, spinning the truck in a tight circle. The tires squealed and slid across the dirt. “I don’t suppose that shook it loose?” He called over the engine noise.

  “Nope.” Her nails scrabbled over the roof as she tried to hold on for dear life. The lizard had been tossed around, but it managed to find purchase again in the bed. It struck out with its tongue but couldn’t quite get the momentum to grab Makani. Hissing in frustration, its sticky feet inched forward, positioning itself to strike.

  “Okay, hang on!” He spun the wheel in the opposite direction. The truck squealed in protest, but it turned. Then it lost traction in the dirt. It spun in a tight circle, out of control until it flipped.

  The Mo’o and Makani were both thrown in opposite directions. The lizard landed on its back. Sticky, clawed feet scrabbled against the air, tongue whipping out as it tried to right itself. Makani ended up on the other side of the clearing, the wind knocked out of her as she landed on her right side. Still-healing ribs protested the rough treatment, and she watched the shotgun go off once in the air as it landed just out of her reach.

  The truck seemed to hang in the air for a moment, then it came down with a thud. It slid for a several moments before coming to a halt, lying on the driver’s side.

  “Shit!”‘ Flynn swore, from inside the truck.

  “You have no idea—” So, he had no future career as a stunt driver. And Makani felt like her lungs had collapsed. She lay in the dirt where she’d landed, panting hard and clutching her side. With ribs that throbbed and felt like they were scraping together, she rolled over onto the side that didn’t hurt as much. Her eyes scanned the area, wondering where the Mo’o had gone. “Flynn? Can you get up?”

  “Yeah.” He groaned, climbing halfway out of the truck, his movements slow and deliberate. “Manny is going to be really pissed now. I take back what I said about your driving.” He rubbed his cheek, which had started bleeding again. He crouched down beside the overturned vehicle, win-cing. “We need to run. You okay?

  “I don’t think I can get up . . . ” She hissed between her teeth, and didn’t quite manage to sit up. “My ribs are hurtin’ like a bitch.” Makani spotted something in the low branches of the coffee plants. “Okay, I think I’ve gotta. Flynn, get back in the truck and stay in there!” She struggled to roll over and grab the gun as the Mo’o started to advance again, its tongue licking out to taste the air.

  “What? No! Makani . . . ” he called out after her. “Crap. What are you doing?” he whispered, frantically.

  “I’m closer to the gun, and I’ve got the bullets.” He couldn’t possibly argue with that logic. She laid a hand on the grip of the shotgun and managed to drag it closer. Slowly, painfully, Makani managed to sit up. Sucking in air through her teeth, she started reloading, careful to keep her eyes on the Mo’o, nervous sweat dripping into her eyes, despite the cool night air. “But seriously, if it gets me, you’ve gotta finish it off!”

  “Not going to happen.” He got up onto his feet. “I’m going to draw it out into the open, so you can’t miss. Just don’t shoot me. Again.” He grinned at her briefly and then started waving and shouting. “Hey ugly, over here!” He started to run, heading away from her.

  The Mo’o let its tongue slip out and it tried to catch the human male’s retreating ankle. The female, while easier prey, was less of a threat. And she was far less strong, at the moment. Her blood wouldn’t be as potent, wouldn’t feed the lizard the way she could if her body was sound. So, it slithered after Flynn, belly dragging low to the ground.

  Meanwhile, Makani had gotten the shotgun reloaded and started tracking
the lizard. “Flynn, damn it!” Her breath kept hitching when she tried to inhale. Finally, she gave up and went with her heartbeat. Lub dub. Lub dub. On the downbeat, she squeezed the trigger, and clipped off the creature’s toes. “Shit!”

  Flynn reached the tree line and turned back. The Mo’o had a bleeding foot, but that only slowed it down. “Um, Makani . . . !” He backed into the trees, his arms out to either side. He ducked under a branch and had his back against the trunk.

  “Stay there!” She lifted the gun again and took aim. Counting heartbeats, Makani put her finger on the trigger, and cleared her mind. One, two, three! The bullet’s course held true and it caught the base of the Mo’o’s skull. Its tongue flicked out, grabbing Flynn’s ankle, and pulled him down. But instead of yanking the man, it simply fell limp and hissed its last breath.

  Flynn puffed, looking at the corpse for a long while. It didn’t turn into dust or explode, it just lay there, slowly sinking in onto itself like a balloon losing air. He got to his feet and limped toward Makani.

  Makani felt as deflated as the desiccating corpse. She dropped the gun and felt herself lie back. Blinking hard, she breathed slowly before turning her head toward Flynn. “Hey. You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just another day at the office.” He slumped against the roof of the truck, his arm hanging into the window. “All we need is a kappa and a ghost and the whole gang is here.”

  “Don’t! Don’t even!” She held up a finger, and slowly started to get back up. Clutching her side, Makani staggered over. “This had better be it, I swear to Jebus!”

  “Okay, okay. I won’t even mention zombie horses or death chickens.” He smiled wearily. “Oops, sorry. I guess I did already.”

  “I swear, if I could lift my arms, I’d punch you—” But she returned the smile and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I love you. And I’m sorry I almost shot your face off. I love your face.”

  “I love you too, but do you mind if I don’t turn the other cheek? One scar might look rakish, two looks like I’ve been in prison. Or a war.” He leaned in to kiss her hair. “Maybe that’s what this is though—a war.”