My swollen right ankle pulses through the fabric of my sock, though that’s the least of my immediate concerns.
The fire died, leaving only embers in the ash-filled hearth. The sparse, dull red glow barely pushes back the gray dawn light seeping through the tops of the snow-covered windows. Maybe the shoulder-height snow’s just a drift against the glass.
I pull my parka on and adjust the gun in my chest holster.
The gesture sets off a chorus of creaks, aches, and strains as sore muscles try to stretch. All things I can’t react to.
The weight of Nika’s gaze burns through the air. If it’s chilly out here, it’s got to be frigid in there. But, fuck her. She has a blanket. She’s not dead. Given the circumstances, that’s the best she can hope for.
She’s lucky I decided I’m more curious than bloodthirsty, at least for the moment.
Grabbing three logs from the stack, I add them to the embers. Flames start licking up the sides of the well-seasoned wood.
I bask in the fresh heat, hoping I’m blocking some of it from traveling farther. Spite tastes even better than coffee first thing in the morning.
I can sense her glaring at me. The twin lasers searing into me from behind warm me almost as much as the fire.
Time to put on a show.
With a long, luxurious stretch that I push all the way down to my toes, I let out an extravagant yawn, like I’d just had the best night’s rest. In the middle of that act, I twist, catching sight of her. “Good morning. Sleep well?”
A tangled nest of white hair haloes her head, and her arms have lost some color from the cold.
So is her “I’m going to kill you and wear your skin like a trophy” expression.
Maybe the Pakhan’s princess isn’t a morning person.
Beyond that glare, she doesn’t respond.
Being the dick I am, I offer her a wide, cheery smile. “You got any coffee in this joint?” Without waiting for an answer, I proceed to the kitchen. Even if I hadn’t found it yesterday, I could follow the trail of debris from everything she threw at me.
I realize the wall is sporting a new knife. That’s fun.
I don’t know anything about this Dimitri guy Nika mentioned, but he’s got to be either a saint or a demon to live with a devil like her.
The appliances all flash twelve. So the electricity is back on but not the heater? I’ll have to check into that.
One cabinet sits open, the door lying broken under a crack in the wall. I rummage around until I come upon canned goods, pasta, rice, and noodle packets. I check the next cabinet over and locate a box of coffee pods.
A single-cup coffee machine sits by the sink, out of the path of destruction.
While the coffee brews, I head to the freezer. Sure enough, I discover boxes of pancakes, chicken biscuits, and meat lover’s breakfast bowls.
My stomach growls.
I pop an instant breakfast into the microwave, and the aroma of bacon, sausage, and eggs soon wafts through the kitchen as I open each cabinet. Kitchens double as the perfect spot to hide things, as most people overlook them while searching for information, valuable items, or keys. But a secret can hide behind any door, especially in a cupboard.
This house could fit in at any military station. Or psych ward.
There’s a place for everything, and everything is in its place, except for what Nika destroyed.
I continue to investigate while I eat.
Between the noises and smells, Nika’s got to be furious. No doubt she’s hungry and thirsty.
Being pissed off is dehydrating work.
Finding nothing of interest, I straighten the garbage can, dump my trash, and switch off the light.
