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Authors: Jane Lindskold
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rule in the Morris house hold, and although Pearl still had her gardening service and maid service call at both residences, most of the time they all did for themselves. Matters were too sensitive—too flat-out weird—to permit outsiders easy, unsupervised access.
In the kitchen they found Honey Dream. Honey Dream did not resemble her father, Righteous Drum, in the least. In age, she was probably somewhere between Brenda and Nissa. Slender as the Snake that was her affiliate, Honey Dream managed to be voluptuous as well.
The red tee shirt she wore had a deeply scooped neckline, embellished with lacy beadwork flowers in contrasting crystal. Honey Dream wore shorts that were not as short as some Brenda had seen her wear, but that nonetheless admirably displayed the length of her legs. One bare ankle was looped with a tattoo of a small snake. Honey Dream’s long, ink-black hair was caught up in what looked like a casual style, but Brenda had tried something like it, and knew how difficult it was to pull off. To Brenda, that hairstyle gave away the effort Honey Dream had put into her appearance.
As always, Honey Dream’s sensuous physicality made Brenda all too aware that she herself was nearly as flat-chested and narrow-hipped as a boy. She swallowed a sigh and reached for one of the trays of dainties that stood on a counter waiting to be carried into the next room.
“Thanks, Brenda,” Honey Dream said, and those two words emphasized more than anything else that one thing had changed about Honey Dream. Unhappily, for Brenda’s recurring insecurities, if anything the change made the other woman more lovely.
Gone was Honey Dream’s prickly arrogance, replaced by something almost approaching humility. Honey Dream, perhaps more than any of them, had been tested by recent events. The solicitude with which she brought Righteous Drum his tea and a little plate of delicacies showed that Honey Dream had not yet forgotten how recently she had thought her father dead.
Riprap had stepped into a back pantry, and now he emerged carrying trays of glasses. He was accompanied by Flying Claw, the Tiger of this group, and the subject of a great deal of heady daydreaming on Brenda’s part.
Flying Claw was a counterpart for Honey Dream’s physical beauty, but there was nothing in the least feminine about him. He was neither as tall nor as obviously muscular as Riprap, but Brenda had seen Flying Claw hold his own and then some against the much larger man—and not only because Flying Claw had trained in fighting arts since he was a small child. There was strength in the young Tiger, as well as beauty, and grace to balance the strength.
Unlike Righteous Drum, who had cut his hair better to blend into modern America, Flying Claw still wore his hair long, nearly as long as that of any of the young women. Today he had it caught back with a series of silver pony tail holders that were ornamental even as they kept his hair from getting in his face. Brenda suspected Des’s hand in the choice of jewelry. The Rooster had a distinct sense of style, and had taken it upon himself to act as buyer and fashion consultant for the strangers.
Brenda knew that Flying Claw was related to Pearl—a not-so-distant cousin—and that physically he resembled Pearl’s father, Thundering Heaven, the source of their current problem.
I wonder if Pearl’s going to get all prickly with Flying Claw again,
Brenda thought, glancing over at the older woman anxiously.
She’s only just barely started treating him like he’s human. Now that I think about it, I wonder how Flying Claw’s going to take the news about Thundering Heaven. I mean, Pearl’s dad was his idol, the whole reason he studied to become a Tiger. This could be really bad.
A knock at the front door announced Albert Yu. Like Des Lee, Albert’s heritage was ethnically Chinese, and like Des, Albert was something of a flamboyant figure, although in a completely different fashion.
Des wore his hair
In the kitchen they found Honey Dream. Honey Dream did not resemble her father, Righteous Drum, in the least. In age, she was probably somewhere between Brenda and Nissa. Slender as the Snake that was her affiliate, Honey Dream managed to be voluptuous as well.
The red tee shirt she wore had a deeply scooped neckline, embellished with lacy beadwork flowers in contrasting crystal. Honey Dream wore shorts that were not as short as some Brenda had seen her wear, but that nonetheless admirably displayed the length of her legs. One bare ankle was looped with a tattoo of a small snake. Honey Dream’s long, ink-black hair was caught up in what looked like a casual style, but Brenda had tried something like it, and knew how difficult it was to pull off. To Brenda, that hairstyle gave away the effort Honey Dream had put into her appearance.
As always, Honey Dream’s sensuous physicality made Brenda all too aware that she herself was nearly as flat-chested and narrow-hipped as a boy. She swallowed a sigh and reached for one of the trays of dainties that stood on a counter waiting to be carried into the next room.
“Thanks, Brenda,” Honey Dream said, and those two words emphasized more than anything else that one thing had changed about Honey Dream. Unhappily, for Brenda’s recurring insecurities, if anything the change made the other woman more lovely.
Gone was Honey Dream’s prickly arrogance, replaced by something almost approaching humility. Honey Dream, perhaps more than any of them, had been tested by recent events. The solicitude with which she brought Righteous Drum his tea and a little plate of delicacies showed that Honey Dream had not yet forgotten how recently she had thought her father dead.
Riprap had stepped into a back pantry, and now he emerged carrying trays of glasses. He was accompanied by Flying Claw, the Tiger of this group, and the subject of a great deal of heady daydreaming on Brenda’s part.
Flying Claw was a counterpart for Honey Dream’s physical beauty, but there was nothing in the least feminine about him. He was neither as tall nor as obviously muscular as Riprap, but Brenda had seen Flying Claw hold his own and then some against the much larger man—and not only because Flying Claw had trained in fighting arts since he was a small child. There was strength in the young Tiger, as well as beauty, and grace to balance the strength.
Unlike Righteous Drum, who had cut his hair better to blend into modern America, Flying Claw still wore his hair long, nearly as long as that of any of the young women. Today he had it caught back with a series of silver pony tail holders that were ornamental even as they kept his hair from getting in his face. Brenda suspected Des’s hand in the choice of jewelry. The Rooster had a distinct sense of style, and had taken it upon himself to act as buyer and fashion consultant for the strangers.
Brenda knew that Flying Claw was related to Pearl—a not-so-distant cousin—and that physically he resembled Pearl’s father, Thundering Heaven, the source of their current problem.
I wonder if Pearl’s going to get all prickly with Flying Claw again,
Brenda thought, glancing over at the older woman anxiously.
She’s only just barely started treating him like he’s human. Now that I think about it, I wonder how Flying Claw’s going to take the news about Thundering Heaven. I mean, Pearl’s dad was his idol, the whole reason he studied to become a Tiger. This could be really bad.
A knock at the front door announced Albert Yu. Like Des Lee, Albert’s heritage was ethnically Chinese, and like Des, Albert was something of a flamboyant figure, although in a completely different fashion.
Des wore his hair
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