Page 33 of Alien's Heart
The lights surged, then went off.
Awesome. Lightning must have struck a power relay on the roof.
Ruth pulled out the emergency lantern. With a shake to start a chemical reaction, it glowed softly. It wasn’t the best but it would do.
“Make sure the shutters are secure,” she said. “Take the lantern and check the downstairs rooms. I’ll go upstairs.”
To his credit, Nox didn’t question if it was necessary. Perhaps it was the wind or the seriousness in her voice that motivated him. She didn’t care. Debris was known to go flying when the winds picked up.
“You take the lantern. I see better in the dark,” he said.
Fifteen minutes later, the house was secure. The upstairs was in the same abandoned condition as the ground floor. Dresser drawers were half-open and discarded clothes had been piled on the unmade bed. A suitcase waited in the hall. Half-empty bottles of shampoo and soap sat in the bathroom.
When she looked closely, Ruth realized that personal items—photos, jewelry, toiletries—were missing. The closet was half-full. There were gaps in the neat row of shoes at the bottom of the closet. It was as if the former owners simply walked away from their lives. Nothing indicated that they sold the house, and everything pointed to a hasty exit.
She grabbed two towels from a linen cupboard—also half-full—and went in search of Nox. She found him crouched in front of the fireplace when she returned downstairs.
“Do you know how to operate this?”
“Yeah. If you can find something to burn, I can get a fire going.” Drying off by a fire sounded fantastic. Her clothes were soaked, splattered in mud, and her skin was chilled. The summer heat that felt so oppressive only hours ago was a distant memory.
“Wait here,” he ordered, disappearing into the darkened house.
By the time she took off her muddy and drenched shoes, Nox returned with an armload of firewood.
“I found these in the cellar,” he said, dumping them in front of the fireplace.
“There’s a box of matches in the emergency kit. Find them, please.” Ruth opened the flume and checked the chimney. The lantern didn’t illuminate far up the chimney, but the bricks she could see appeared sound. No obvious obstructions. No falling debris. The fireplace could be safe to use.
“Show me how,” Nox said, kneeling beside her.
She explained how the flue worked, stacked the wood, showed him the best places to put kindling, and lit the match. Soon enough they had a fire.
The fire cast a flickering light over the room. The walls were a simple wood paneling, stained a light orange that must have been popular some decades ago. The professor’s house had the same feature.
Ruth stretched out her bare feet toward the fire, letting the heat drive away the miserable wetness as she towel-dried her hair.
Nox sat on the floor next to her, likewise barefoot. Side by side, she noticed the differences in their feet. Size for one. His feet were just bigger, both in width and length. His toes were long, much longer than hers. They looked like feet evolved to run down prey, springy and agile.
“I wasn’t ignoring you. I was thinking,” she said.
Nox made a rumbly noise.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you apologize for losing your temper for no reason.” She refused to let this go. Apparently, she was cool with a lot of his bullshit: fake names, nefarious past, and a willingness to beat up the entire town for her, but the temper tantrum was a step too far. His entire mood turned so quickly that it worried her. How long until he turned on her? She said, “I thought we were a team. We don’t turn on each other.”
Nox kept his gaze forward, focusing on the fire. “That female, Serene, what did she say to you?”
“That’s why you got your britches all twisted?”
His tail twitched, sweeping across the floor and whacking into her. “My trousers are not twisted. Your demeanor changed. I worried that you were afraid of me.” He turned his head to face her, the firelight gleaming in his eyes. “You should never be afraid of me.Never.”
“Serene recognized you,” Ruth said.
His ears went back. “That seems improbable. It is a massive galaxy with billions of people. The chances of anyone knowing another are insignificant.”
“You broke her cousin’s arm.”
“That does sound like me,” he conceded.
