Page 82 of Primal Hunger
“How should we test it?” he asks, the low growl back in his voice.
“Let’s go outside, just in case it explodes.”
“Would it be such a great loss if the hovel evaporated?” Syros follows me to the door, moving lightly, his frame crouched over me in a protective shield. “Although, you hate it when I call it that.”
“Yes,” I say simply. “Because it’s your home.”
“But is it really such a home if you aren’t here?” He asks the question so casually that I have to do a double take. I freeze,trying to wrap my mind around his words, but I can’t seem to force enough air into my lungs.
My throat tightens, and I fight for the words to say, but he leads the way out of the cabin without another word.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Erin
The machine doesn’t work.
With a frustrated sigh, I pick it up and move several feet to the left, in the direction of the cabin that’s just out of sight. I fiddle with the nobs, move the extra-long antenna this way and that, but again—nothing. I swallow down the disappointment welling inside of me, trying not to let it show on my face.
This has to work.I spent so much time, worked too hard, for it not to. There’s got to be something I’m missing, something I overlooked.
Reluctantly, I flash a glance at Syros, who’s been watching silently, crouched beneath a tree with low-hanging branches. His red eyes glow in the dim light of the setting sun, lasered in on me.
“What is it, Erin?” Tyler’s voice comes through the speaker loud and clear; it’s the best I’ve been able to hear him since we first made the connection. The signal is stronger out here, in a small clearing in the forest, but it’s still not enough. The connection isn’t strong enough to form a tear between our worlds.
“It’s… not working,” I admit, fighting to keep my voice level. Crying over something so stupid as a radio signal feels ridiculous, but I can't shake the depression growing heavy in my chest. “I know it’s not midnight, but I expected something to happen.”
A spark, a sizzle,anything.
This isn’t good, and it doesn't bode well for our midnight attempt.
What if all of this was for nothing? What if it doesn’t work after all, and I really am stuck here until the next solstice?
I chew my bottom lip to keep it from wobbling.
A disgruntled noise comes through the radio. Tyler’s obviously as disappointed as I am.
“So, what now?” he asks, and the question hangs heavy in the air around us.
The truth is, I have no idea.
Even though I tried not to get my hopes up when Syros agreed to help, a faint shred of optimism settled in my gut and grew, festered over the last several hours. I’d nearly convinced myself that this would work, that I would be face to face with Tyler or at least see a sliver of home through a faint portal.
To see nothing is soul-crushing, defeating.
“I don’t know,” I mutter. “I don’t know… I—”
Syros gets to his feet, shaking out his limbs, which are probably stiff from being still for so long. I expect him to tell me to give up, to encourage me to abandon this crazy idea. After all, I can tell he’s disappointed about me leaving. It’s evident in the wall he’s constructed between us, the distance he’s keeping.
He paces over, and my eyes slowly climb his form, locking with his glowing red gaze through the gloominess.
“Come,” he says, offering me a hand. “Maybe there is something else we can use. Something we overlooked.”
Reluctantly, I reach for his hand, trying not to get my hopes up again. I don’t know if I can make it through another let down without tears falling, and I’ve held it together so well. But I’ve come too far to give up now; I have to keep trying, especially if Syros thinks there might still be a chance.
I nod once, leaving the radio laying amongst the underbrush. He drops my hand as we head back to the cabin, putting an uncomfortable distance between us, but he holds the curtain open for me to dip inside.
