Chapter 6
Iris
“And why the hell should I?” I yell at him, squirming and twisting to try and get out of his embrace. Knowing he’s now stuck here causes a shift within me, pushing me out of the delicate fawn I was trying to be into a beast mode, fighting for my way out of a cage I don’t belong in.
He pauses, as if mulling over an idea. Or perhaps it’s just a really difficult question for a monster who seems used to getting his way.
I cross my arms over my chest, staring up at his fiery eyes, and feel the heat radiate off of him.
I take in his form as I wait, noting the muscular nature of his arms, how the tendons seem to ripple with purpose underneath his charcoal flesh.
The definition in his chest and stomach as he looms over me.
The peat scent wafting from him reminds me of campfires by the lake from my childhood.
His thin lips stretch into a knowing grin as his eyes trail down my neck to my now plump breasts, thanks to my arms squeezing them up and together like the world’s best and worst push-up bra.
Lifting a hand from the wall, he brings it to my face, holding onto my chin with his forefinger and thumb. “You will help me, dear Iris, because if you don’t, I will consume your soul and those of all that you care for.”
I swallow. There’s no way he could know of everyone in my life. Friends. Family. Anyone who means something to me. He could never.
“Oh. But I can,” he says, taunting me as if he could hear my thoughts.
Wait? Can he?
“No. I cannot read your thoughts,” he responds, unconvincingly.
“You merely show every concern, triumph, and feeling on that pretty face of yours.” Releasing my chin, his hand moves back to its place beside my head, and he leans in, surrounding me in the scent of wood smoke.
With his mouth next to my ear, he whispers, “What do you say? Your soul for your help? Do we have a deal?”
My palms sweat as I consider his offer. It’s not really much of one, but to be honest, I would rather not lose my soul.
And there’s nothing to say that he will leave after I help him.
However the fuck I’m supposed to do that.
Like, really, what the hell do I know about portals to other dimensions?
Flowers? Sure, I could build him the prettiest bouquet he’s ever seen.
But magical space-dimension traveling portals?
I have got nothing. But also… I can’t afford not to at least try.
If I want to protect myself and everyone else I know and care for, I don’t have a fucking choice.
And he knows it.
“On one condition,” I say, drawing courage from somewhere I’m not sure of.
His eyebrow quirks up in interest. “Oh? And what, pray tell, is that?”
“You must promise to leave as soon as we figure it out and the portal is reopened.”
Without hesitation, he responds, “Deal,” and then offers his hand to shake as if we are nothing more than car sales reps.
I take his hand in mine and shake, certain that I have just sealed my fate in ways I’ll never understand. But there’s no turning back now.
After coming to our agreement, I show Basil to the living room and teach him how to work the TV before going back to my room and locking the door behind me.
Not that I believe for a moment that a simple door would keep him out if he wanted to enter—be it to harm me or any other reason—but it at least gives me some peace of mind.
I don’t expect to sleep well, for the few hours that I have left before I need to be up for work, but I try anyway.
The last time I check the clock and note the time, there is only an hour before my alarm will go off.
When the incessant beeping wakes me, it feels like it’s only been a few minutes. Not nearly long enough.
Sitting up in bed, my head pounds, and my eyes are so incredibly dry that I know I’ll need to find some drops at the pharmacy next to the store before I start the day.
Every bit of the events from the night before feels hazy, and as I hold my head in my hands, massaging my temples, I wish for it to have been a dream.
Surely, Boogeymen can’t be real, and there definitely isn’t one presumably sleeping on my couch.
Carefully crawling out of bed and moving across the floor, I turn the lock and doorknob before slowly pulling the door open. I tiptoe into the hallway, avoiding the spot that always creaks, and peek around the corner.
“I know you’re there, Iris.” His resonant tone fills the room, sounding as if he’s everywhere, yet nowhere, at the same time. There’s no defined direction from which his words come, and I scream out in surprise.
“Jesus. Fucking. Hell.” My hand flies to my chest, feeling my heart race underneath. “Where are you?”
“Here,” he says, stepping out of the shadowy corner. “I am sensitive to light.”
I go to the windows and start twisting the little pole on the coverings to reduce the amount of light coming through. “You could have just closed the blinds.” If I’m not mistaken, I think I see a slight blush appear on his cheeks. Do Boogeymen blush? Fuck if I know.
I move about the kitchen, making coffee and tossing bread in the toaster, his eyes following my every move.
“Look, I have to get ready for work. I have a shop that I own, and we have a number of large orders that need to be prepped today. Do you think you could, I don’t know, manage on your own while I’m gone?
Do you have others you can call or contact in some way that could help you? ”
“No. We lose contact, usually only for a brief moment, upon entering the human realm. But you cannot go to your work.”
“Oh, and why is that?” I ask sarcastically as I butter toast. I should probably ask if he wants something to eat, but I’m afraid the answer might be yes, and that his meal is my soul. So instead, I’m the rude hostess my mother would be flabbergasted by.
“Because I am not meant to be in your world for this long. If I don’t get back within a couple of days, I may never be able to return. My power… it would be gone.”
“And is that such a bad thing?” I ask, genuinely curious as I sip my black coffee and lean against the countertop.
He rounds the corner, flicking off the light switch as he enters the kitchen and takes up a spot along the counter opposite me. “Yes. It would devastate the beings of my land. I would no longer be their leader. I would no longer be me.”
“I guess I can understand that. I don’t know what I would be without my shop.”
“What kind of establishment do you run?” he asks.
He seems so different from last night. Last night, he was scary, looming over my bed, moving at the speed of light.
But here, in my small kitchen, he fills the space, but not in a bad way.
It’s not intimidating. Instead, he seems…
casual. And oddly, talking to him, like this, doesn’t feel strange.
At least not as odd as I’d think talking to a real-life Boogeyman would be.
“I’m a florist and I own a store called Petal Pushers.
I’ve loved flowers since I was a child, fascinated by their colors, structure, and just the sheer variety in which they come.
I love being able to combine them in new ways.
It’s a fun way to create and express myself, as well as the feelings of others, through a living medium.
” My mind wanders back to my childhood as I continue to speak.
“My grandmother was the one who started teaching me their different names when I was quite young. I would visit and we would walk through the garden together, looking at how the flowers supported each other or how they created a new picture every time.” He listens intently as I ramble on, remembering a time that feels like so long ago now.
I don’t know the last time I talked about my grandmother to someone.
She’s been gone for years now, having passed away from a heart attack; even so, I still miss her dearly, and there are days when I wonder what she would think of my work now.
I hope she will be proud of me and how far I’ve come.
“She sounds like she was a wonderful person. I can’t say the same for mine.”
The thought of him, this large beast of a mythical being, having some kind of family, let alone a grandmother, is borderline comical.