orders for customized men. She certainly knew men’s bodies. No one could do a quality check like she could.
She let her gaze inventory Leith from his shining mane to his spectacular buns and muscular legs. What a total package. She sighed. Fine. She understood. Leith probably had superior genes, but—
“Let’s get you folks inside so we can find you something to go shopping in. Me and my old lady own this place. Just moved out yesterday. Got ourselves a double-wide on a few acres down in San Leon. She’s inside practicing her—Hey, here she is now.”
Fortune looked up…and up…and up. No human stood on the rickety old porch, but a Valkyrie, come to escort a fallen hero to Valhalla. Tall and broad, withbright yellow hair whipping in the breeze, she looked as though she could heft an army of fallen heroes across her wide shoulders. Obviously she’d come for Leith, so Fortune would quietly sneak away before—
“Welcome home, dumpling.” With that greeting, the Valkyrie grasped one of the many knives secured to her person and let fly.
Once again Fortune ended up flat on her back staring into riveting green eyes. This position threatened to become habit-forming.
“ ’Tis a dangerous time we’ve come to, but dinna fear; I’ll protect ye.” He glanced up to where the knife still quivered in the tree trunk above them.
His eyes glittered with excitement. He enjoyed this. She supposed she ought to expect that in a primitive mentality. But she didn’t have a primitive mentality, and she was scared.
“You guys lie around on the ground a lot, don’t you? Must really have the hots for each other.”
She stared up at Blade. He grinned and winked at her.
“Get up and meet my wife, Lily. World-class knife thrower. Rated number eight in the whole country.”
Leith climbed to his feet, then helped Fortune up. Ganymede clung to her gown like a Shundi sucker. None too gently, she scraped him off and plopped him on the ground. He registered his displeasure with a low growl.
Doing a little low growling herself, she followed the males up the path to where the Valkyrie lovingly fondled another of her lethal weapons.
“Welcome to the year 2000,” Fortune offered to no one in par ticular.
Chapter Three
I gotta tell you, plagues are easier. I could whip up one of those suckers in five seconds flat. Black Death. Sorta has a nice ring to it. Too bad it went outa style.
Physical things are a snap. You want a hot-as-hell forest fire? Kid’s play. How about a great tidal wave? No strain.
But I sweat the emotional stuff. See, I can’t mess with people’s minds. Some stupid rule.
So far things are goin’ OK. Not great, but OK. I didn’t want that cross comin’ along for the ride, but I can’t touch religious symbols. Another stupid rule. I hate rules.
And where’d this Hugh Campbell come from? Coincidences make me nervous. Somethin’ about that damned ice-cream man bothers me, too. Big guy, fuzzy hair and beard. Reminds me of someone.
No one better be messin’ with my show. Hey, I’m an artist, and I don’t like anyone tryin’ to paint my picture for me. Get the idea? Last jerk who tried that trick is lookin’ outa someone’s fish tank right now.
I’m not gonna think about it anymore. It’ll just upset me, and when I get upset my tummy starts hurtin’; then I have to drink a gallon of that pink stuff. I’ll think of somethin’ else.
Is Fortune Cookie hot or what? Great babe. I can sure pick ’em. Hope she doesn’t let me down and fall for some bozo she meets on the street. Shouldn’t be a problem, though. Hey, Leith’s a great-lookin’ guy. Just like me. That’s why I chose him. But he’s a little old-fashioned. Know what I mean? Now me, I believe in women’s lib. I love free and easy women. OK, so I love any kind of woman. What can I say; it’s a weakness.
Right now, I’m starved. Hope they don’t buy cheap cat food, the stuff that tastes like cardboard. But great artists gotta be
She let her gaze inventory Leith from his shining mane to his spectacular buns and muscular legs. What a total package. She sighed. Fine. She understood. Leith probably had superior genes, but—
“Let’s get you folks inside so we can find you something to go shopping in. Me and my old lady own this place. Just moved out yesterday. Got ourselves a double-wide on a few acres down in San Leon. She’s inside practicing her—Hey, here she is now.”
Fortune looked up…and up…and up. No human stood on the rickety old porch, but a Valkyrie, come to escort a fallen hero to Valhalla. Tall and broad, withbright yellow hair whipping in the breeze, she looked as though she could heft an army of fallen heroes across her wide shoulders. Obviously she’d come for Leith, so Fortune would quietly sneak away before—
“Welcome home, dumpling.” With that greeting, the Valkyrie grasped one of the many knives secured to her person and let fly.
Once again Fortune ended up flat on her back staring into riveting green eyes. This position threatened to become habit-forming.
“ ’Tis a dangerous time we’ve come to, but dinna fear; I’ll protect ye.” He glanced up to where the knife still quivered in the tree trunk above them.
His eyes glittered with excitement. He enjoyed this. She supposed she ought to expect that in a primitive mentality. But she didn’t have a primitive mentality, and she was scared.
“You guys lie around on the ground a lot, don’t you? Must really have the hots for each other.”
She stared up at Blade. He grinned and winked at her.
“Get up and meet my wife, Lily. World-class knife thrower. Rated number eight in the whole country.”
Leith climbed to his feet, then helped Fortune up. Ganymede clung to her gown like a Shundi sucker. None too gently, she scraped him off and plopped him on the ground. He registered his displeasure with a low growl.
Doing a little low growling herself, she followed the males up the path to where the Valkyrie lovingly fondled another of her lethal weapons.
“Welcome to the year 2000,” Fortune offered to no one in par ticular.
Chapter Three
I gotta tell you, plagues are easier. I could whip up one of those suckers in five seconds flat. Black Death. Sorta has a nice ring to it. Too bad it went outa style.
Physical things are a snap. You want a hot-as-hell forest fire? Kid’s play. How about a great tidal wave? No strain.
But I sweat the emotional stuff. See, I can’t mess with people’s minds. Some stupid rule.
So far things are goin’ OK. Not great, but OK. I didn’t want that cross comin’ along for the ride, but I can’t touch religious symbols. Another stupid rule. I hate rules.
And where’d this Hugh Campbell come from? Coincidences make me nervous. Somethin’ about that damned ice-cream man bothers me, too. Big guy, fuzzy hair and beard. Reminds me of someone.
No one better be messin’ with my show. Hey, I’m an artist, and I don’t like anyone tryin’ to paint my picture for me. Get the idea? Last jerk who tried that trick is lookin’ outa someone’s fish tank right now.
I’m not gonna think about it anymore. It’ll just upset me, and when I get upset my tummy starts hurtin’; then I have to drink a gallon of that pink stuff. I’ll think of somethin’ else.
Is Fortune Cookie hot or what? Great babe. I can sure pick ’em. Hope she doesn’t let me down and fall for some bozo she meets on the street. Shouldn’t be a problem, though. Hey, Leith’s a great-lookin’ guy. Just like me. That’s why I chose him. But he’s a little old-fashioned. Know what I mean? Now me, I believe in women’s lib. I love free and easy women. OK, so I love any kind of woman. What can I say; it’s a weakness.
Right now, I’m starved. Hope they don’t buy cheap cat food, the stuff that tastes like cardboard. But great artists gotta be
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