“What do you need?” he blurts out. “To make your machine?”
The gruffness of his voice startles me, and I twitch, running a hand through my hair, wishing I had something to tie it back with while we work.
“I need to search your shelves to see what you have. And any tools will be helpful.”
He cocks his head to the side and stares hard at me. “Tools?”
“You know, a screwdriver or needle nose pliers. Anything I can use to manipulate the pieces of whatever we find.”
Despite my hesitation, a small glimmer of excitement brings a smile to my face. This is where I excel. I haven’t been able to find much success with my paranormal blog—yet—but I’ve always been good at tinkering, taking things apart to see how they work and manipulating the pieces to make something new.
Here, at least, I’m confident.
I’m not sure if the machine I make will have the capacity to form a bridge solid enough for me to cross, but I know I’ll do what it takes to try.
“Tell me what you need from me, and I will make sure you have it.” Syros crosses the room to a pile of trinkets near the fireplace, bending to check it. After a few moments, he turns, holding out a leather pouch and waiting for me to take it.
It’s heavier than I expect, weighing several pounds despite its small size. I pluck apart the ties, prying open the sides, and see a neat row of screwdrivers lined up according to size.
“Is that what you need?” he asks.
Joy warms my heart when I lift my face to meet his. “You are full of surprises. You know that?”
I swear he’s grinning at me. “I aim to please.”
“I thought you aimed to eat,” I joke.
He snorts, his version of a laugh. “That, too. Although I have done my share of devouring you. Today, we work.” He spares a glance toward the curtain-covered entrance, and the sliver of sunlight filtering inside through the gap in the fabric.
“I, ah, need to turn on the radio and connect to Tyler, to tune in to the correct frequency.”
Why does it fill me with embarrassment to admit it? Especially when I note the way Syros’ red orbed eyes begin to darken to the color they always turn when he’s less than thrilled with something. Okay, correction. He’s pissed.
His tongue flicks out to brush against his canines. “Fine.” He bites out the word. “Although I make no promises that, once the connection is established, I won’t eat this Tyler. I still haven’t had my fill, and if the bridge works, I may have to take him in your place.”
“I’m not sure if you’re joking or not.” But I’m gonna choose to look at it like a joke.
I break eye contact, my gut settling low and my chest constricting as I crouch closer to the radio, fiddling with the knobs until I find the right channel and the static fades.
“Hello? Tyler? Are you there?”
A yawn comes through loud and clear. “Erin? I’ve been up all night waiting to hear from you.”
A growl sounds from behind me, lifting the hair on the back of my arms and neck, and I don’t need to turn around to know Syros is pacing in front of the fireplace. I feel the heavy thuds of his feet as he stalks back and forth in the small space.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I was busy,” I say, clearing my throat. Busy getting stuffed full of monster cock. “But I’m here now, and I’m going to start trying to boost the signal.”
“What do you need from me?” Tyler wants to know. “I’m ready to do whatever it takes to get you back.”
“Stay connected. I have help from my side.”
I have a half-baked plan already, though I’m still not sure it will be enough to create a bridge between our worlds. The extendable antenna on the radio isn’t nearly enough for the signal strength we need—I’ll need to make it longer somehow, away to strengthen the radio waves. It wouldn’t hurt to relocate either, to search the surrounding area and see if there is a place where the signal is stronger than inside the cabin.
That means going outside, in the open.
Hopefully, Syros will be on board once I explain my plan. I need his help if I’m going to make this work.
Syros helps me get the things I need, moving whenever I ask him to grab something from his collection. A few pieces of scrap metal, a bit of aluminum foil, and a metal coil is what we come up with. It’s not much, but it will have to do. He doesn’t complain while we work, though he rarely speaks aside from a random comment here and there. Nothing deeper than surface level, nothing, nothing more than a few words.
