Read Kelley Eskridge for Free Online Page B

you, you're the only good thing in the whole
fucking world right now.”
    “Okay, honey.” Snow leaned over and kissed
Jackal on the side of the mouth, said pragmatically, “But you'll have
to brush your teeth first,” and put the car into gear. Jackal leaned
back. The night sky above her was clear now: all that joy gone, sobbed
up into the clouds that the cold winds of Ko had blown to shreds.
Winter was coming.

3
    SHE DID NOT WANT TO FACE THE DAY.
SHE HATED MORN ings, especially the bright, cheerful ones that
bustled in before a person was ready; but the insistent hand on her hip
would not let her fall back into unconsciousness.
    “Jackal. Jackal, wake up.”
    She found herself facedown, so tangled in
her sheet that she could barely move. Her favorite woven blanket, worn
from long use, was wrapped around her. Her feet and calves were rough
with bits of sand, and her throat felt as if she'd eaten a handful.
    “How are you?” Snow asked gently.
    Jackal thought about it. “Not so bad,” she
said finally, a little surprised.
    “That's good.” Snow stroked her head.
    “Can I have just another hour? I didn't
get enough sleep.”
    A wicked smile from Snow. “No one to blame
but yourself.”
    “And you,” Jackal said, smiling back. She
loved sex with Snow, the two-step of safety and free-fall, the
immediacy and intensity of their bodies straining and sweaty, hips and
bellies and breasts against each other. It made Jackal feel bigger than
herself, larger in the world. Her body was sore, but her heart was not
as bruised as it had been.
    She watched Snow move to the wide window
at the east end of the room and open it to a sky like gossamer over the
South China Sea, sheets of green-gray clouds lit by stripes of
sunlight. A slow, warm breeze brought salt and seabird voices into the
room. Jackal loved her window, and the terrace that looked over the sea
toward Hong Kong and Kowloon beyond. The entire apartment block curved
long and low around this part of the island coast, full of light and
space, wood and stone, water and wind, built especially for her web
because she was the Hope; like her parents' house close by on the other
side of the greenbelt, nestled in the dunes, also beautiful, a special
growing-up place for the special child of Ko.
    Snow said, “It's after nine. You'll be
late for Neill if we don't hurry.”
    That brought Jackal out of bed in spite of
her aches and the need for more sleep. She still remembered the first
time she had been punished in school: little Ren, hair windblown
straight out from her head, breathless from running but still late,
made to stand in front of the class while Mr. Tirani instructed the
other children to tell her, one at a time, “It's wrong to keep others
waiting.” Then she was required to apologize, and thank her classmates
for their help. Afterwards, he took her aside and dried her tears,
saying, “You have a very big responsibility, Ren, even though you're
still a little girl. But we will all help you be equal to it.”
    Now Tirani was one of the people that
stepped out of her way when she passed by; but it was still a lesson
well learned. So she rooted through her closet until she found loose
khaki trousers and an oversized shirt in burgundy and deep blue, then
carried the clothes into the small square living room and dug a clean
pair of underwear out of the basket pushed against a wall. She pulled
scuffed brown boots with worn heels from under the big chair that was
almost identical to the one in Chao's office. These days she liked
clothes she could move in without pinching a breast or turn-ing an
ankle, that could be pushed up over her elbows or crumpled and stuffed
into a carrybag. She followed fashion but never caught up with it—now
who had first said that? Someone in the web: was it Bat, or maybe
Tiger? No, she didn't want to think about Tiger, his bright blood and
the shock on his face.
    “Where's my other sock?”
    Snow shrugged. Jackal began turning over
the