Page 15

Chapter

Fifteen

Erin

S yros takes off on me.

One minute he’s moving his feet, again with a strange grace I wouldn’t have thought possible with his frame and height. And the next, he’s threatening me and taking off like he’s got an even worse nightmare poised to strike him down.

What did I do wrong?

Maybe it isn’t me, but something came over him when he looked at me.

The urge to run out the door and not look back is intense, consuming my entire body until I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet. The song on the radio changes to something upbeat with a booming base, like a theme for my escape.

It urges me to take the chance because the risk may be worth the reward of freedom.

As much as I want to learn about Syros, my survival takes precedence.

I can’t write for my blog if I’m trapped.

Running would be so easy right now, especially considering there’s no locked door, only a thick curtain separating me from the outside world. No matter what kind of horrors exist in the abyss outside, I’d be able to put as much space between me and this house as possible.

The cost?

Higher than anything I’ve experienced in my life.

I still don’t have a plan, or supplies to take with me. Not to mention, I already tried to run once and failed. The odds are definitely not in my favor this time around.

Taking another look around the small room that is Syros’ house, I don’t see much that will be helpful if I flee. He might have thought his collection was made up of weapons, but outside of the tiny point on the can opener, they’re harmless. Benign.

I’ve got no chance fighting against a Grim with a Britney Spears CD.

Plus, I have no idea what I’m up against or what I’ll find out there in this monstrous realm, so just taking off right now doesn’t seem in my best interest. Besides, Syros said I would enjoy a slow, painful death. Call me crazy, but I believe him.

My arms drop back to my sides and the exhaustion I staved off crashes back over my head. No amount of music or adrenaline will keep me going now.

Normally, I’d take a threat like the one he made with a grain of salt—like a cheesy line from a horror movie—but I’m not in a place to blow him off. Not after everything I’ve seen so far.

Whether at his hands, or the hands of something else, I know my life could easily end, so I have to be smart about this.

My stomach twists, demanding food and water. My eyes shift to the giant cauldron Syros was stirring earlier, and I take a few steps in that direction. A muddy-colored water fills it about halfway. Nope, not that hungry.

I need a fucking plan. This time, I have to be smart and look before I make the jump. I’m not sure I'll be able to land on my feet, and although my track record has me coming out on top every time, the odds of it happening this go around are slim to none.

I have to be calm, rational, and patient.

Patience has never been my forte, despite all my field work.

Finding out what I can about this realm is crucial to devising any kind of escape plot, and the easiest way to go about that is earning Syros’ trust. It makes the most sense. Once I’ve earned it, I’ll be able to needle him for information.

If he trusts me, then he’ll be more inclined to not only allow me small freedoms, but to loosen his lips.

I snort. He only has lips to loosen in the metaphorical sense.

Besides, what other kinds of beasts live here? How and where do the portals open? He mentioned waiting until the next solstice, but could there be other portals here that he isn’t aware of? Those open constantly or maybe once a month?

Anything is possible.

I sag down to my knees when they go jelly and refuse to hold me.

Oh yeah, I’m sunk. Even if I decide to give into temptation and bolt, I won’t make it far. My body is going downhill fast without food, water, sleep, etc. All the things a human generally needs to survive and be at full strength.

And if I’m honest with myself, I doubt there’s any way I’ll survive long enough to see another portal. Six months is a long time on earth, and I have no clue what that means in this realm.

Does time move slower here? Faster?

Judging from the way Syros reacted when I explained the watch, I’m not even sure they have a concept of time in this place. Maybe they only mark it by a change of season. After all, they know when the solstice arrives and the portal opens.

My heartbeat races, along with my thoughts, and I know it’s only a matter of seconds before my anxiety gets worked up again. With no distractions to keep the nerves at bay, they threaten to rise up and drag me down into a panic attack, and I can’t afford it.

I need to focus.

I reach for the radio again to ground myself, to feel something familiar, and twist the knob to the left to lower the suddenly overwhelming volume.

What a sight it was to find this piece among his collection.

I remember playing with one of these in my grandfather’s house a long time ago—the memories hazy because of time—and I think of what it was like before I decided to chase ghosts and cryptids.

Back then, things were simple. Boring. But at least they were safe. I had grandparents and a home and my dad to keep me stable and grounded. He never exactly discouraged my flights of fancy but redirected me more often than not to focus on things that were right in front of me.

College, he always said, is where young people learn who they are and who they want to be.

Then, he was gone.

There were no more trips to Grandpa’s house to fiddle with the old radio. No more life lessons. Only a heap of money and a tentative direction I didn’t end up taking.

What would Dad think if he saw me now?

Mouth dry again, I turn the dial, rolling through the few channels the radio is able to pick up. Honestly, I’m surprised the thing works at all. And the battery find was a miracle. Who knows how old the radio is or how long the batteries have been sitting on the shelf, unused.

I know it’s only a matter of time before they die and I’m left with nothing but the discomforting silence, but I fiddle with it anyway. A few seconds of peace are worth the dullness I’ll endure later.

I think of the Paramorning podcast and how hilarious this story would be to tell in an interview. How bizarre and unheard of circumstances like these are. I’m sure no one would believe it, even with all my proof.

You were chased and captured by the Grim? the host would ask.

My imaginary answer makes me snort a laugh. Yes, and then he ate me out and fucked me in the underbrush of a different world. How crazy is that?

You didn’t want to fight back ?

Apparently not, I’d say. I really enjoyed it. The fucking, anyway. The rest was terrifying.

How did you escape? The interviewer would stare at me incredulously with awe and envy glowing in her eyes.

Crazy indeed, and the thought of it has my core melting with heat once again. Gods, his tongue. Long and soft and scraping my insides in exactly the right way to coax the most intense orgasm of my life.

I shouldn’t have let him do those things.

Because I hadn’t fought back, not really. Not when it came to him ripping off my pants and devouring me.

Something about getting chased, fearful for my life, and being pinned to the ground as the monster had his way with me did something, unlocked a wanton piece inside of me.

A kink? I can’t be sure, but it was definitely something .

I’m a monster fucker.

I let him do things to me I wouldn’t even let a man do after a few dates.

Hysterical laughter bubbles up, pinpricks of awareness skittering across my chest. A monster fucker, and I’d do it again for the sheer pleasure of it. Something about the situation, the whole I should not be doing this aspect, got me wetter than any partner in the past.

Maybe if I’m lucky, and brave enough, I’ll get another chance to find out. But I’m not counting on it. It’s better if I put it out of my mind entirely and focus on getting out.

I roll over to a new station and the static cuts off, suddenly giving way to a male voice, and I freeze, quickly turning the dial back. It takes a few tries, but I finally line the little red stick up just right where it settles on a stable station, and I listen as the man talks.

His voice is a little distorted, occasionally breaking with a glitch of static, but from what I can make out, it sounds like he’s talking on the phone.

My heart pitches toward the floor.

“Yeah, I’m up here near the edge of the forest looking for anything that might have been left behind,” the voice says. “So far, all I’ve found was her camera. There are a few tracks in the dirt, but I can’t follow the trail. They look like they were made by her. There must have been a chase, and a scramble.”

I gasp and instantly clap my hands over my mouth in shock.

There’s no way. This has to be some kind of insane coincidence. Chance? A miracle? There’s no way this person is talking about my camera that I left behind for Tyler to find.

I hold my breath, hoping with every fiber of my being that he keeps talking. There’s a beat of silence, and then more muffled words.

“It’s been three days,” Tyler says to no one. “If we haven’t found her by now, it’s probably safe to say we won’t. I just wish she would have listened to me. Then none of this would have happened and she’d still be safe.”

I squeak, heart fluttering maddeningly against my ribs.

It doesn’t sound very much like Tyler through the muffled static, but something in my gut tells me that I’m definitely hearing him from the other side of the portal. Whatever veil exists between this world and ours seems to be thin here, or the frequency is able to break through just enough that I’m able to hear him.

Things like this aren’t entirely unheard of in the paranormal world, but I’m so relieved to hear his voice that I scream.

“Tyler!”

I have to take the gamble.

If Syros comes back, he’s probably going to wonder if I’ve lost every one of my marbles because I’m screaming at an old radio, but I don’t care.

“Tyler, can you hear me?” I’ve never heard of a radio like this being used as a two-way communication device but what do I really know? Does the connection work both ways?

Things are kind of upended right now.

I have to be dreaming. There’s no way this is actually happening. In a desperate attempt to find out, I bite the inside of my lip hard enough to make my eyes sting. Definitely awake .

This is incredible—almost as unbelievable as being dragged through a magic portal by an eight-foot-tall, skull-faced monster.

Yet, it’s happening.

“Tyler, if you can hear me, talk to me. Please. I need your help,” I yell.

Hearing Tyler’s voice coming through the speakers might be shocking, but it hardly compares to what happens next. As if the whole thing isn’t hard enough to believe, he answers.

“Erin?” He chokes on the word, sounding skeptical, and I scream into my hand again. “Is that you?”

I’m not sure what the chances of this happening are, but they’re small. Miniscule, and I’m worried that if I change the channel again or move the radio, that I’ll lose whatever connection we’ve formed.

I keep my hands at my side, my fingers clenching.

“It’s me, Tyler! Can you really hear me?” I ask, staring desperately at the radio face, hardly daring to breathe.

“Yeah, I can hear you,” he says, his voice breaking with static. “Are you okay? Where are you? Oh my god, I thought you were dead!”

“I’m alive,” I rush, trying not to ramble, even though the urge to gush and tell him everything that’s happened so far is overwhelming. There isn’t time for that. “We went through the portal. The Grim dragged me through it and I passed out.”

I should be quick to get the point across. There’s no way to know how long the connection will last. Tyler needs to know exactly what happened.

“The portal?” he asks. His voice is distant and tinny, fluttering in and out of clarity. “You mean the one we saw?”

“Yes. Take the memory card out of the camera and upload the pictures, if you haven’t looked at them already,” I urge, heart racing in my chest. “Post them to the website. Tell everyone what happened. The world needs to know.”

“What about you?” His voice is strained now.

“I’m fine! The pictures are more important than me.”

Is it too dangerous to urge him to come look for me? How would he even do such a thing with the portal gone until the next solstice?

My head is spinning, and I’m lightheaded.

He laughs, a strange noise through the white noise of the radio. “Now I definitely know you’re okay. Kidnapped by a monster and still worried about your blog. Is there a way for you to get back?”

“No.” I have no idea if it’s possible to get back between the solstices. Surely, the Grims would go through the portals more often if that were the case. “At least, I don’t think so. It’s too dangerous for you to come looking for me. I don’t know what to do, but I’m going to figure it out. How are you listening to me right now?”

“I’m in your car,” he answers, making me scowl. Of course he is—I’d left it in his possession when I took off. “I was trying to find our radio show and my dad called.”

“Okay, well just keep it safe for now and don’t wreck it.” I can’t believe I’m worried about such a thing right now, but I’ve seen Tyler’s driving, and it’s not great.

Besides, clinging to something so dull and realistic helps to shave off some of the anxiety mounting inside me. It’s just the distraction I need.

“The Grim left me here so I don’t think I have much time, but maybe we can find a way to open a portal if the veil is weak enough to transmit voices. Will you help me?”

“Of course,” he says. “Whatever you need me to do, just—”

Something outside the door rustles, making me jump, and instinctively I slam the off button on the radio. The connection severs and a horrible silence fills the room.

A second later, the curtain over the door rips aside, and Syros glances around before finding me on the floor. He has a cluster of plants gripped in his clawed hand. He curls his claws around the stems hard enough to grind them into dust, and his red eyes zero in on me.

Then he asks the one question that has my heart dropping to my toes.

“Who are you talking to?”