Kelley Eskridge Read Online Free PDF

if she
asked for it. But Ko was already her place; on Ko, she led. If the
guard thought she needed a wedge through the crowd, he would call for
support and then wait until the way was clear before al-lowing her to
proceed. But she never had a problem finding a path on Ko. Everyone got
out of her way. They smiled politely, maybe nodded, but they never
looked too long and they always stepped aside. The problem was that she
always had to know where she wanted to go.
    People eddied between elevators and
escalators and the entrances of the atrium shops, the café that
served thick coffee and beignets and never closed. Everyone moved to a
purpose, except for one person leaning against a tiled wall near the
south tower elevators. Jackal looked again.
    She barely noticed as the people-stream
opened a channel for her. She simply found the straight line between
her and Snow and started walking. Snow met her halfway and pulled her
close abruptly, without a word: Jackal stood with her head in the place
where Snow's overshirt hollowed against a sharp collarbone.
    “How'd you know I was here?” she said
finally.
    “I always know where you are.” Snow
squeezed her shoulder. “Bear called me. Come on, let's go.”
    Jackal straightened and found the guard
right behind her. “It's okay. Snow will take me home.”
    “I was told to accompany you.”
    She gave him a look. “And I'm telling you
that Snow will take me home.”
    “Ah. Of course. I'll inform Dr. Chao.”
    “You do that,” Jackal said, and took
Snow's hand.
    Snow hop-stepped to catch up. “He's only
doing his job.”
    “Then he should learn when to stop doing
it.”
    They pushed through the south door into
the thin light of the late afternoon. “The look,” Snow said, “really
works better with just one eyebrow.”
    “You always say that. I can't help it if I
don't have the single-brow gene.”
    “You seem to have the martial arts
recessive.”
    Jackal sighed.
    “Do you want to talk about it?”
    And she did, desperately: wanted to open
her mouth and let the words fall out, Hope and Ko and lies .
And I'm afraid . Instead she looked
up to the daytime moon blooming over Esperance Park. “Not right now,”
she said.
    “Do you want to go home?”
    Jackal shook her head helplessly. “Don't
know what I want.”
    “Doesn't matter,” Snow answered. “When we
start doing something you don't like, you can tell me.”
    Jackal stayed quiet and let herself be led
to the parking lot. Snow bundled her into the passenger seat of a
dormitory car parked in the No Stop zone; Jackal's bike was wedged into
the trunk. Snow said, “Don't step on the bag,” and in a canvas backpack
on the floor, Jackal found two bottles of red wine and four messy
sandwiches clumsily wrapped in a kitchen towel.
    “Mmm. Where are we going?”
    “Well, I thought, it's a lovely December
afternoon. You just punched out a web mate and got yourself a
ten-second segment on twenty thousand Who's News broadcasts around the
world. We have corned beef sandwiches and some not-very-good Australian
cabernet.” Snow shrugged and looked at Jackal sideways. “There's really
no point in trying to do anything sensible. Beach okay with you?”
    Jackal felt her shoulders drop
fractionally and she grinned, the fierce show of teeth that went with
the name and her wild dark hair and eyes. Snow drove silently, her eyes
colorless and remote in her pale face. Jackal thought, she's so
beautiful.
    “Did we just choose our web names
brilliantly, or did we all grow into them, do you think?”
    That earned her a quick look, and Snow's
eyes narrowed as she turned her face back to the road, but Jackal knew
that only half her attention was on driving now. Good: she liked making
Snow think. She watched through the windshield as the car pushed the
road ahead of itself like a dog nosing a ball, unrolling the way to the
end of Ko, while Snow tapped a complicated rhythm on the steering wheel
and shook her head every so often.
    Snow