Rogue Dragon by Kassanna Page B

anyone had been out there. Kirill moved back a few feet and called on his fire. He puffed, and a small fireball hit the iron. The metal glowed red and water sizzled as icicles fell from the potbelly device. He pulled a couple of logs from the pile and threw them into the machine’s opening. Kirill found kindling in a plastic box next to the wood and lit some, stuffing it under the wood in the furnace.
    The snap and crackle preceded the smoke that billowed out from the apparatus. He waved his hand and stuck more wood into the opening before closing the door. The pipes outside the house looked like copper, and he followed them along the side. They were frozen at the connection in to the house. He put his mouth close to the soldered elbows and blew a breath. The ice behind the metal slid down the siding. Sure that her shower was now taken care of, he went in search of something to cover the window.
    He studied the landscape. A few feet away was another, smaller building. Stalking to it, he noted the points where a defensive position could be held. He crinkled his nose at the smell of oil and rust, and could only make out shapes in the darkness. A quick glance around the door and he found a lantern. Light illuminated the area when he lit the wick. It wasn’t just a shed. This looked like a work area. Maps were stapled to the walls. He stomped into the room and took a closer look. Some of the images resembled the ink on Synda’s body. Barely discernible writing was scribbled along the edges of the old paper.
    An old roll top desk was closed. He tried to lift the wood. Locked, the top didn’t budge. There were answers secured in that desk. He’d come back and break it open later. On the other side of the room, several pieces of plywood rested against the wall. Above that, tools hung on pegs nailed to the wall. Next to the devices were shelves that contained screws and smaller items.
    A last look at the paper laden work area and Kirill grabbed a hammer from its spot, snatched up a handful of nails, and dragged the plywood out. A draft slammed the shed’s door shut behind him.
    He could hear the rush of water as he climbed the stairs. Kirill eased the accordion door to the side and caught sight of Synda’s form through the thin shower curtain. Picking up a towel from the back of the toilet, he shut the barrier. After wiping the dampness from his body, he draped the towel around his neck and went in search of a bed.
    * * * *
    Synda lifted her face toward the stream of water that flowed from above her. Kirill had the hot water working within minutes of leaving her. She picked up the soap from the inset in the wood and starting with her hair, lathered her unruly tresses. The warm water pounding on her skin sent tingles along her limbs. Slowly she worked her way down, suds gathered at her feet as she as the drifted down her body. The smell of jasmine filed the room. She rinsed off and turned the knob, reaching beyond the curtain to grab her towel off the back of the toilet. Her hand hit cold plastic. She patted the space and stuck her dripping head around the curtain.
    Her towel was gone.
    Cold air sent icy fingers down her spine as she stepped from the warmth of the enclosure. She shivered and noticed the way the lights flickered. The generator had to be getting low on oil. Dammit, she should have told Kirill about that.
    She rubbed her arms as the water cooled on her skin. Synda jumped up and down a few times and drops fell from her locks. She yanked the door back, and it slid into its pocket. The house was quiet and freezing. Behind her, the lights snapped off and back on just as quickly. She flipped the switch to save on energy and ran from the bathroom toward the minute linen closet.
    She glanced in the bedrooms she passed along the hall and stopped short. Kirill lay in her bed, his feet hanging off the slim twin mattress. Tossed on the nightstand next to him was her missing towel. She walked into the room, the soles of her