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Qualfon is actively seeking to acquire multiple companies and expand its business in the USA and around the world.
Qualfon's acquisition process and financial strength provides flexibility to sellers because we transact on all-cash deals and typically retain management.
Qualfon, a people-driven business process outsourcing (BPO) company and global provider of contact center services, is actively seeking to acquire multiple companies and expand its business in the USA and around the world.
"Qualfon is a financially healthy company that is entering its next phase of growth, and we're looking for the right opportunities to diversify our capabilities and lead our progression," said Trevor Allen, Qualfon's Chief Merger and Acquisitions Officer, who joined the company in June 2015 to drive strategic growth.
Owners of BPO companies, including private equity firms, individual owners, and sell-side investment bankers are invited to reach out if they think Qualfon might be in their best interest. "Qualfon's acquisition process and financial strength provides flexibility to sellers because we transact on all-cash deals and typically retain management," added Allen.
Qualfon is evaluating companies as small as $25M in revenue but is financially positioned to purchase companies as large as $300M in revenue. Qualfon seeks opportunities in the USA, across Central and South America, and also in the Philippines, and it is particularly interested in companies in the healthcare sector and those in the Fortune 2,000 market.
Qualfon has a track record of successful acquisitions. The company<|fim_middle|> | 's 2014 acquisition of Center Partners earned a Deal of the Year Award from the Global M&A Network, who recognized the purchase as a value-generating transaction that validates Qualfon's private equity investment strategy. | 44 |
SculpSure, the Revolutionary Body Contouring Procedure Launches in the Middle East.
Spring is just around the corner and there's no better time to redefine your body with the revolutionary body contouring treatment from SculpSure. Developed by Cynosure in the US, and distributed in the region by Amico, a leading medical devices provider.
SculpSure is the world's first FDA-cleared laser treatment for non-invasive lipolysis of the flanks and abdomen. It's a state-of-the-art, controlled light-based technology, ideal for patients looking to get rid of stubborn fat.
For many patients, traditionally invasive procedures such as liposuction are not a consideration, neither from budgetary point of view, nor from the perspective of down time required to recover after such procedures. For such patients, SculpSure offers a solution, with the latest innovative technology to sculpt and define. Each session lasts 25 minutes and patients report zero downtime and minimal discomfort with prices starting from 4,000 AED.
Thanks to Tishtash for organizing the event where we came to know about the benefits and technicalities of the treatment. The event was attended by Sculpsure team, media & bloggers at a sumptuous breakfast at La Baie Ritz Carlton JBR where experts from Sculpsure briefed about the treatment.
Target<|fim_middle|> as six weeks, with optimal results typically seen at 12 weeks. | ed laser energy heats fat cells under the skin without affecting the skin's surface. SculpSure raises the temperature of fat cells damaging their structural integrity. Over the next three months, the damaged fat cells are processed and eliminated naturally by the body's lymphatic system. Fat cells are permanently removed and will not regenerate. Results can be seen as quickly | 69 |
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HOMETASTINGSEVENTSTRAVELFOODSUBSCRIBEAUGUST / SEPTEMBER 2018LOGIN
Winery Report
Peak Perfection
Head to Oregon to revel in pinot noir – and be pleasantly surprised by the young winemakers who dabble in other varieties.
Natasha Hughes MW
By Mike Haverkate, Andrea Johnson, Serge Chapuis, Caroline Wells-Kramer, Lingua Franca, Cristom, and Robert Holmes.
2018 pinot.
Oregon's Willamette Valley in autumn is beautiful. No, scrub that – it damns the scenery with faint praise. The Willamette Valley in autumn is breath-takingly, stunningly, beguilingly beautiful. Misty low-lying clouds part to reveal a gently rolling landscape of folds and valleys forested with evergreen firs and deciduous trees whose leaves have turned lambent shades of gold, scarlet, terracotta, blush, copper, ochre. America's east coast states may get all the glory when it comes to autumnal foliage displays, but this part of the Pacific Northwest certainly gives them a run for their money.
This bucolic paradise is farming country, famed for the quality of its hazelnuts and cranberries, its grasses, Christmas trees and hops – little wonder that Portland is at the epicentre of America's craft beer scene. Wine lovers will recognise the Willamette as the source of some of the U.S.'s most refined chardonnays and pinot noirs. They may, however, be surprised to learn that it wasn't until the mid '60s that the first pinot vineyards were planted in the valley, and another decade at least until the quality of the wines produced there was widely recognised. Unlike neighbouring California, whose viticultural history dates back to the late 18th century, Oregon was long believed to be too cold and damp to be a successful grape-growing region.
Tom Gerrie and Steve Doerner of Cristom Vineyards.
As it turned out, the Willamette offered near-ideal conditions for making refined wines from Burgundian grapes, which is ironic, considering that at least some of the valley's first growers were actually looking to Alsace for inspiration. It wasn't long, however, before they began to recognise how well suited their region was not only to nervy, picky pinot, but also to its Burgundian compatriot, chardonnay.
Part of the success of these two grapes can be ascribed to Oregon's hilly topography and its climate, which combine to create a variety of cooling influences that gift freshness and aromatic density to the wines made in the state. Rain falls abundantly on the Willamette, mainly in autumn – a fact that occasionally creates a conundrum for winemakers when it comes to choosing suitable harvest dates – ensuring the soils contain just enough water. Summers tend to be long and sunny, allowing the grapes plenty of time to ripen, but cool night-time breezes and a bit of altitude – most vineyards are planted at around 110-330 metres above sea level – assist in creating a sense of vibrancy and tension in the wines. In recent years, however, the climatic cycle has posed a series of challenges to growers. The 2014 and 2015 vintages, in particular, were marked by hot, dry growing conditions, thanks to swings of the El Niño/La Niña cycle. In 2013, a typhoon struck just as harvest began, profoundly affecting vignerons, and only those winemakers who were rigorous about their selections made good wines. Luckily, the valley escaped much of the smoke taint that affected Oregon's southern wine regions in 2017, and 2018 also looks promising.
Lingua Franca.
The best vineyards are grouped in a series of American Viticultural Areas (AVAs) that lie about an hour's drive south of Portland, and are clustered within a few miles of the Willamette River. They're planted on the foothills of the Coast Range, which provides protection from the worst of the storms that blow in from the Pacific. To the outsider, the differences between the AVAs of the Chehalem Mountains, Dundee Hills, Eola-Amity Hills, McMinnville, Ribbon Ridge and Yamhill-Carlton, as well as the eponymous Willamette Valley, are subtle. There are small variations in terms of altitude and Pacific influence, but the three main soil types of the region are fairly widely distributed across the AVAs, with minor variations. The soils of the Dundee Hills are mainly based on volcanic basalt, while Ribbon Ridge features a predominance of marine sedimentary clays. By and large, though, these two soils, sometimes with an additional dusting of wind-blown loess, are spread throughout the valley.
Many of the Willamette's pioneering winemakers had escaped to Oregon as part of a counter-cultural lifestyle decision. Their aim was not only to plant vineyards but also to raise their families at a distance from America's fast-paced consumer rat race. An echo of their homespun, down-to-earth ethos still pervades the valley. There's little of Napa's gloss in downtown McMinnville, the town situated in the heart of Oregon wine country; the Willamette is not a place for trophy wives in designer frou-frou or shiny chauffeur-driven Cadillacs. Most of Oregon's winemakers get around in beat-up utes, wear heavy-duty workman's boots and, as the weather cools in autumn, hefty plaid shirts are de rigueur. The guy who sells you the wine on your visit to the winery may well be the same guy who pruned the vines or hand-plunged the fermenting must. Many of the wineries are still fairly small in scale, although most of the pioneers have moved on, sold up or handed the reins over to the next generation. An initial trickle of outsiders has grown of late into a bit of a flood, and many wineries are now owned or backed by Californian and French companies.
Philippe Drouhin of Domaine Drouhin.
And winemaking itself is beginning to change in the Willamette. After some 40 years of critical acclaim for pinot and chardonnay, some wineries have shifted their focus back onto aromatic whites. Younger winemakers whose fingers are perhaps fixed more firmly on the pulse of sommeliers in the big cities of the Pacific Northwest and the East Coast are beginning to dabble in fashionably lightweight grapes like trousseau and gamay, aligoté and grüner veltliner. If you look closely, you might even find the occasional bottle of natural wine being made in the Valley, whether you define 'natural' as being based on minimal intervention, a touch of oxidation or skin contact or the use of extremely low levels of sulphur. Other winemakers are experimenting with fermentation in terracotta amphorae and other alternative vessels. Where once the Willamette had a clear, distinct message, diversity is now the name of the game for many. This in itself is not necessarily a bad thing, of course, but could entail problems when communicating to a wider audience of wine lovers.
And there are further hints of trouble in pinot paradise. There's just the merest suggestion big business, with its glossy marketing and its slick sales techniques, may have begun to encroach on this<|fim_middle|>rie, named for the nests of the local red-tailed hawks – was among the first to fly the flag for Oregon pinot. Working alongside his wife, Diana, Lett managed his vineyards and winery in a manner that showed respect for the environment long before the words organic or sustainable became a talking point for marketeers. These days, Lett's son Jason runs the show and his considered, thoughtful approach is derived directly from the values he learned from his parents. The Eyrie wines are an eclectic collection that includes more than a few surprises. There's plenty of pinot noir and chardonnay, of course, but you might not be expecting the floral, peppery 2016 Trousseau or the 2014 Melon de Bourgogne, an 'orange' wine that spends three years in barrel on lees. The result is a drink that's got plenty of slippery texture, nuttiness and subtle notes of orchard fruit. More conventionally, the 2015 Daphne Pinot Noir, which is grown on volcanic soils, is linear and spicy, with great purity of cherry and plum, a hint of smoky minerality and gently grippy tannins. Definitely one for the long haul – and, talking of which, it's worth asking during your visit whether they've got one of their old vintages on tasting that day. I tried the 1985 Eyrie Vineyards Pinot Noir and was blown away by its freshness and energy.
The Craft Wine Company (craftwineco.com) is another urban winery, situated in the small town of Carlton. It's located in an industrial warehouse and produces wines under three labels. Omero Cellars, the original brand, is all about approachable, easy-drinking wines. Minimus was set up in 2011 by winemaker Chad Stock, who wanted a label for wines based on unusual grapes, an eclectic range of fermentation vessels and some experimental winemaking techniques. Origin, as the name suggests, is all about highlighting the individual character of specific vineyards. Depending on what's available at the time of a visit, you might find yourself tasting grüner veltliner, aligoté, vermentino, syrah or gamay, not to mention several distinctive cuvées of pinot noir or chardonnay, and a range of blends. Despite the eclectic nature of the line up, I was particularly taken by the elegant, focused 2016 Dijon Free Chardonnay. The name refers to the fact Stock was keen to use later-ripening clones with a low pH – pretty much anything grown in the valley other than Dijon clones – to make this wine. The result is a wine of great freshness and aromatic complexity, with notes of tangerine, white peach and ginger spice, enhanced by a touch of oak.
Stoller Family Estate (stollerfamilyestate.com) combines Willamette tradition with some of the valley's new-wave marketing tricks. Founder Bill Stoller worked alongside Willamette pioneer Harry Peterson-Nedry at the Chehalem winery from 1993 onwards, buying Peterson-Nedry's share of the business in 2018. However, at the same time as he joined Chehalem, Stoller also bought his family's ancestral turkey farm from his cousin. At the time, the land was considered to be marginal in terms of its ability to grow crops, but Stoller recognised the 137-hectare property was based on the valley's volcanic soils, and began planting vineyards. The environmentally friendly winery currently makes somewhere in the region of 20 different wines, most of which can be tasted in the 400-square metre tasting room, whose floor-to-ceiling windows open out over the vineyards. Cheese and charcuterie platters are available, although if you're really hungry – and fancy a more in-depth tasting – you might want to book yourself in for the gastronomic tasting and tour. The latter features a tour of the winery followed by a tasting and lunch in the library, in which wines are paired with dishes prepared from local ingredients. Ask to try the 2015 Helen's Pinot Noir, Dundee Hills. Named after one of Stoller's aunts, the wine is fleshy and voluptuous, but features enough juicy acidity and generous tannins to support the opulent black cherry and baking spice fruit.
Places to Stay & Eat
If you're impressed with Stoller, you may want to check into one of the estate's guest houses. Three pretty cottages are dotted among the vineyards and offer comfortable accommodation for small groups.
If you want to stay in town, within walking distance of restaurants, shops and bars, McMinnville is your best bet. The best hotel in McMinnville, hands down, is the Atticus Hotel (atticus hotel.com). Although it was purpose-built and only opened in early 2018, the Atticus Hotel has the cosy, settled feel of an establishment that's been providing Willamette Valley visitors with a luxurious home away from home for years. Rooms are well equipped, and staff are friendly and helpful. They're particularly keen to help visitors explore Oregon wine country, and are more than happy to advise on winery visits and tours.
The go-to place for breakfast or brunch is the Valley Commissary (valleycommissary.com). Generous portions of frittata or home-made pastries help prepare for a hard day's tasting, and the coffee's pretty tasty too.
Domaine Drouhin.
The Brooks Winery & Tasting Room (brookswine.com) is a relaxed place to hang out at lunch time and enjoy a sandwich or a salad, along with a glass or two of the winery's famous rieslings. Brooks is also famed for its live music Sundays and pizza Fridays, as well as a varied calendar of events (check website for details).
McMinnville has a surprising number of restaurants for a small town, but the pick of the bunch for dinner has to either be Nick's Italian Café (nicksitaliancafe.com) or Thistle Restaurant and Bar (thistlerestaurant.com). The former is the place to go if you're in the mood for wood-fired pizzas and generous portions of hand-made pasta, while the latter offers classy cocktails and an on-trend menu of small plate dishes with intense flavours.
IntroductionWineries to Visit and Wines to TryPlaces to Stay and Eat | former stronghold of ascetic self-reliance. Likewise, this is not necessarily a bad thing, but land prices are rising as a result of increased demand. As they do, the kind of small-scale producers who created the Willamette dream are beginning to be priced out of the region. But just as seasons change, so too does the world; it is, perhaps, inevitable the nature of wine production in the Willamette should change with changing times.
Stoller Family Estate Winemaker Melissa Burr.
Wineries to Visit
Tom Gerrie, a member of the second generation to own Cristom Vineyards (cristomvineyards.com), is a man deeply in love with his family's vineyards. He strides up to the brow of a hill overlooking his family's winery and points out subtle differences in soils and exposure that allows Cristom to carve out four distinctive vineyards, each named after one of the family matriarchs. The Eileen Vineyard, named after Gerrie's mother, is the highest, windiest site, exposed to the Van Duzer Corridor, a gap in the mountains that allows cooling Pacific breezes to blow into the Valley. Jessie, Marjorie and Louise all lie beneath Eileen at varying degrees of altitude. Each of these vineyards has its own way of expressing pinot noir, teased out by Cristom's long-serving winemaker, Steve Doerner. When I tasted there, my favourite was the 2016 Eileen Vineyard Pinot Noir, Eola-Amity Hills, which even at this early stage shows great vibrancy and perfume. Along with a mouthful of red cherry, tea leaves, violets and raspberry, the Eileen has very fine tannins and bright acidity, as well as pinot's hallmark silky texture. Nicely balanced, with real depth. Visitors who book the 'Cristom Experience' tasting will get a chance to work out which one of the matriarchs they prefer during the course of a hosted tasting. Alternatively, you could opt for a seasonal flight of five wines or a fully catered picnic in the vines.
A short drive brings you to the front gates of one of the Willamette's newest wineries, but one that's already making waves. It's little surprise that Lingua Franca (linguafranca.wine) is being widely feted both in the U.S. and overseas – one of its founders is Larry Stone MS, an influential American sommelier, and its consulting winemaker is Dominique Lafon, a scion of one of Burgundy's foremost winemaking families. The day-to-day running of the winery is handled by an accomplished young French winemaker, Thomas Savre, who oversees a small team as they go about making a small range of refined, poised wines. At the moment, visitors are received in a safari tent to the rear of the newly built winery, but only by appointment and at set times of the day. Nevertheless, it's worth adapting your schedule to accommodate a tasting here. The 2016 Bunker Hill Chardonnay, Willamette Valley, uses grapes from a 26-year-old vineyard grown in the extreme southern fringes of the Eola-Amity Hills on shallow volcanic soils. This is a subtle, elegant wine with notes of smoky minerality, mandarin zest and a hint of ginger, enlivened by resonant acidity and enough oak to lend structure and weight without being obtrusive. Of the pinots, the 2016 Hope Well Vineyard, Eola-Amity Hills, was the standout. Fine-boned tannins provide a framework for layers of perfumed flavours – dried rose petals are succeeded by hints of sandalwood, dark cherry and elderberry. The finish is long and fresh, and the overall impression is one of airy weightlessness, although it's clear this is a wine with enough power and presence to age.
The first Burgundian winemakers to put down roots in the Willamette Valley back in the 1980s were members of the Drouhin family. Véronique Boss-Drouhin still commutes between France and the U.S. every vintage to oversee production at her family's winery in the Dundee Hills. Domaine Drouhin (domainedrouhin.com) is housed in an unassuming building perched on a hillside planted with 50 hectares of high-density vineyards. Pinot is very much king of this particular hill, but the range includes some chardonnay too, and the Drouhins also own vineyards in the Eola-Amity Hills, where they make wines bottled under the Rose Rock label. Unsurprisingly, the Drouhin wines have a hint of Burgundian elegance about them, combined with the bright fruit that comes from the sunshine which bathes the vineyards during the long New World ripening season. It's fun to taste the Louise and Laurène cuvées side by side. The 2015 pair of estate pinots, named after Boss-Drouhin's daughters, show slightly different characters. Laurène has an ethereal, perfumed quality, albeit with a ramrod-straight spine of tannins beneath all its pretty red fruit and rose flavours. Louise shows a bit more grip up front, and a complex, smoky palate with notes of spiced plum and dark berries.
Many of Oregon's wineries are based in McMinnville, and The Eyrie Vineyards (eyrievineyards.com) tasting room is an absolute must-visit for anyone wanting to get to grips with the Willamette's past, present and future. In 1965 David Lett planted the first pinot noir vines in the Willamette Valley. Lett's winery – Ey | 1,204 |
In its 20th year, Princeton University Preparatory<|fim_middle|> negative impact of… | Program sustains its commitment to low-income, college-bound students in Mercer County
By India Education Diary Bureau Admin On Aug 18, 2020
The Princeton University Preparatory Program (PUPP) kicked off this June as it has during each of the past 20 years — with the rousing sound of organ music in the Princeton University Chapel.
PUPP Director Jason Klugman welcomes students to the summer 2020 program in a virtual opening ceremony intended to recreate their usual experience in the Princeton University Chapel.
Photo courtesy of Video Production Support
The opening ceremonies might have been pre-recorded and broadcast to participants through Zoom, but PUPP organizers were intent upon preserving as much of the program's signature, on-campus experience as possible during a summer when the COVID-19 pandemic prevented their usual convening.
For two decades, PUPP has provided comprehensive college preparation to low-income, high-achieving students from five Mercer County high schools. Students are selected to become PUPP scholars through a competitive admissions process during ninth grade, and they participate in the program through high school graduation and their transition to college.
Many of the students — who hail from Ewing, Hamilton, Lawrence Township, Princeton and Trenton — are the first in their families to attend college.
"It's really hard to replicate being in person," said Jason Klugman, director of PUPP. "It's those small moments in person that create community. But the academic rigor of a PUPP summer is absolutely there."
The seven-week program anticipates the students' personal and academic needs. This year was no exception, taking into consideration what they might require in order to learn from home.
Teaching assistant Germalysa Ferrer, left, a PUPP alumna and member of Princeton's Class of 2022, checks in with Maia Leonard of Ewing High School, right, at a drive-up station to ensure she has everything she needs to be successful in the program.
Photo courtesy of Jason Klugman
Before orientation, each student received a Chromebook, a laptop computer pillow, calculator, books, sketchpads and a yoga mat. The program also assisted students without reliable internet access to ensure they could participate fully in classes and meetings.
"We wanted to imagine all the barriers to participation," Klugman said. "We tried to think of all the things that would impede on academic and intellectual engagement."
The program was especially attuned to students' wellness this year given the virtual learning environment and the stresses of pandemic life, Klugman said.
"We altered our schedule and assignments in reaction to the global COVID-19 pandemic, but worked hard to recreate and re-imagine some of the foundational components of the summer, including challenging courses in math, writing, literature, science and sociology, along with our college preparation curriculum, yoga and mindfulness courses, virtual college tours, and more," Klugman said.
The virtual format provided some advantages. Authors Angie Cruz and Ernesto Quiñonez paid a visit to the scholars through Zoom. For their literature class, rising sophomores and seniors read Cruz's "Dominicana" and "Let It Rain Coffee," respectively. Rising juniors read Quiñonez's "Chango's Fire."
Art classes combined elements of PUPP's traditional curriculum, while including virtual explorations of artwork and artists. The scholars contributed to a website where they showcased their own work from the summer, incorporating their scholarship and creativity into projects that also served as a much-needed outlet for self-expression, Klugman said.
Over the years, PUPP has become a model for college access programs nationwide.
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Most PUPP alumni graduate in the top 10% of their high school class and have a nearly 70% graduation rate at a wide range of selective colleges and universities around the country. The graduation rate is above average for students overall and dramatically higher than the average for students from similar low-income, first-generation backgrounds.
Upon graduating, 2020 PUPP scholars received custom face masks.
Pisgah Isabroke, a rising senior at Nottingham High School, said he was grateful that PUPP organizers never considered canceling this year's program. Although his older brother went to college, they both are first-generation college students and needed guidance navigating the application process.
"I think one thing I've gained — other than my own motivation — is having this support system around me," he said. "We all have the same goals in mind, so we help each other any way we can."
Marian Ordonez, a rising senior at Ewing High School, said the program has been challenging, but that's she's glad to have been pushed out of her comfort zone.
"Coming in sophomore year, I was quiet and reserved," Ordonez said. "PUPP is always encouraging you to use your voice."
Her participation also motivated her to apply to two colleges that she never otherwise would have considered: Middlebury and Pomona.
"Without PUPP, I wouldn't be thinking of applying to the colleges I'm thinking of applying to right now," Ordonez said. "Our [high] schools don't have the resources and the counselors."
In fact, Ordonez said she might not have attempted to apply to college or community college at all. "I don't know if I would have pushed myself as hard as I did in school without PUPP," she added.
Seven of PUPP's 10 teaching assistants this year were alumni of the program, including Nancy Agosto, a 2018 graduate of Trenton Central High School who attends Muhlenberg College and who served as PUPP's first teaching assistant in art and literature.
Agosto, an art history major, she said she tried to develop projects that wouldn't inconvenience students with having to find too many materials. Juniors, for instance, worked on an art project employing digital photography.
Agosto said she is interested in working with high school students eventually, perhaps as a teacher.
"There's always that bit of anxiety that comes with trying to find one's own identity," she said. "I'm trying to let students know that if they work hard enough, it will be fruitful."
PUPP 2020 ended much as it began, with a virtual closing ceremony that highlighted the students' growth and accomplishments. It came with the usual smiles and tears at a job well-done — some visible on screen, others shared in a chat box while the ceremony was underway.
"All of our closing week activities — the virtual art gallery, literature performances and research symposium — went on, with updates and innovations to address our current moment," Klugman said. "None of us could have imagined a virtual PUPP summer, but we pulled it off and are extremely proud of what we were able accomplish together."
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Kindergarten Lesson When, Where and What's the Problem? You're the reporter!!
SWBAT will be able to identify text elements in<|fim_middle|> identify how the setting changed. Then we'll discuss how the problem changed."
Here's is one of my student's reports.
This is an opportunity to lead the students to see multiple examples of story structure interaction. You can be the model to give the overview of...."I see that the setting of the story changed to this. So, it makes sense that the problem changed because of that. The new problem is....."
"That was a great job "reporting" the stories today. You guys were really creative with your stories."
"Was it fun to change a part of the story? Did it help you understand the story better to see how the parts work together?"
"We'll practice this skill more in the future to see that story structure is important!"
Scaffolding and Special Education-This lesson could be scaffolded up or down, depending on student ability.
I would suggest using mixed groups so that those who struggle academically could verbally express ideas instead of having to write. The models from higher students would be excellent for all of the participants in the group. | fables and determine how the story changes when one element is changed.
Where? When? What's the problem? Report it all to us!
** I changed up the worksheet the 3rd time I taught this lesson, because I wanted to add a 'solution' at the bottom and a line dividing the space for the student to write the original setting and problem and the new setting, leading to the new problem.
"We'll be reporting on a fable that you know, but adding new developments.... its 'breaking news' that changes the whole story around."
(Powerpoint slide 1) "What is a fable? Do you know any of these fables? It's a kind of literature that uses animals, has a moral and belongs to a culture."
"The central ideas and themes of these stories help us, as Americans, share a common history and ideas."
"Take a quick look at the stories and we'll review the ideas and themes of each one quickly."
Recounting fables and folktales and examining the features in these stories allows students to share the common ideas that these present. (RL.2.2) Through this extensive discussion of cultural stories, students gain literary knowledge as well as familiarity with various text structures and elements. Since the themes and ideas from these fables recur over and over again in other stories, movies and text, this rich content knowledge from the classics should be presented and shared as part of a student's education so that the ideas and concepts become part of their general knowledge.
"Before we start, let's take a minute and think about the story elements."
"The characters and setting are introduced... pause... at the beginning of the story. Then we find out a problem and some events happen and then at the end.... is the solution."
"Today we are going to talk specifically about the characters, setting and the problem."
"When one element in the story changes, the whole story changes. The setting changes in the story and the characters change what they do. The setting changes and the problem is not the same."
As we examine the story elements that make up literature, students are discovering that stories have structure. In the beginning, characters and setting are introduced and at the end, the events are concluded. (RL.2.5). Students begin to be experts in 'content literacy', understanding how stories are structured, as well as close readers who enjoy the story, but also analyze how the elements work to form good literature.
"Now suppose I change the setting to an 'island and today'. Is the problem still the same? No, because wolves don't live on an island. I think that when the setting changes, the problem would change to 'the pigs and maybe a boar (those live on an island) would be the new characters. Since I know that boars like to chase, my new problem might be that they all chase the wolf!"
"Now I'll report what happened." Pick up the mic.
Hello, my name is ..... and I'm reporting on an unfolding story. We have a hostage situation where 3 pigs are being held by a wicked wolf. The story is still developing, but we are hearing new details about the situation. We originally thought that the pigs were stuck in a brick house a long time ago, but we are now hearing about a new setting. The pigs are reportedly now on an island south of the Pacific today. In this new setting, a new problem has emerged. The pigs and boars and are planning to attack from the wolf! I'll bring you updates as they become available!"
"Wow, lots of changes. A change in one story element makes us question what else will change.
Here's what my chart looked like after this discussion.
** You'll notice on the revised-setting/problem chart, I put both settings and problems on the chart. I felt it was helpful to reinforce to the kids later when they could see the original setting and original problem as well as the revised setting and problem.
(Powerpoint slide 3) "Let's try one more together. Here's the story of King Midas. Everything that he touched turned to gold. At first he was happy because he got richer and richer. But then he discovered he was lonely and turned his daughter into gold when he tried to touch her."
"The original setting was a kingdom a long time ago. How could we change the setting? The characters may change too." Take ideas - my kids wanted to change it to a garden and make a princess the main character who turns things into flowers. Write that on the board.
"Now that the setting has changed, is the problem the same?" The kids recognized a new problem. "Yes that's right the problem is different. Several of you said that it wouldn't make sense to turn his daughter to gold. Perhaps there are too many flowers now covering everything in the garden." Write that.
Hello, my name is ..... and I'm reporting on an unfolding story. We have a situation about a king. The story is still developing, but we are hearing new details about the situation. We originally thought that the king was turning everything in his kingdom into gold but we are now hearing about a new setting. It's actually his daughter and she is in a garden turning things into flowers! In this new setting, a new problem has emerged. Now there are TONS and TONS of flowers everywhere! I'll bring you updates as they become available!"
report on the fable the 'breaking news' that changes the whole story around - you'll get an iPad to record once I check your group's worksheet."
"Let's review the Group Rules and iPad Rules.
(powerpoint slide 4) "Here are some fables that we talked about. Work as a group to choose one."
For each lesson that we use grouping or iPads, I take the time to review these rules. As a class, we developed these rules at the beginning of the year. Although the kids know them well, it's important for them to hear them again. I want them to respect each other and learn to collaborate effectively, as well as be responsible of rthe technology that we are using.
"Does the new problem make sense?
"Who might be new characters and do they change during the story?"
"How did a change in the setting affect the problem or characters?"
This is one group's completed worksheet.
"Now let's watch the videos and see how the setting changed. Come up and show your video first and then call on a friend to see if they can | 1,321 |
As we move into the holidays, let us relish in the times with share with our loved ones. Let us move into a season of thankfulness.
Be Thankful for the people that will continue to be in your atmosphere no matter what.
Be Thankful for the people who have entered your<|fim_middle|> to partake in. The moments of love & laughter with people that care about you. | world as of late. There's always a reason for the entrance & exit of all situations & people.
Be Thankful for the people who are no longer with you. For everything & person has a season. Don't be sad for their departure from your life. You are moving into a season of abundance & ascension, where you're going, everybody cannot go with you.
Be Thankful for the experiences that you've had no only this year but in years past. Be reflective & take stock of those experiences & how they've gotten you to where you are at this very moment. Be present.
Be Thankful for the journey you're on. Everybody's journey is not the same. Yours is unique. It was tailored for you, no one else.
Be Thankful for the little things. The ability to have breath in your body. The sunshine through the window. The nourishment to your body from whatever food you were able | 188 |
#
PRAISE FOR
THE ALLIE BECKSTROM NOVELS
Magic for a Price
"Breathtaking. . . . Monk is a storyteller extraordinaire!"
— _RT Book Reviews_
"A must read for those of you who like urban fantasy. . . . Allie Beckstrom, it has been a blast."
—Claire's Book Corner __
"The action comes to a blazing crescendo."
—Gizmo's Reviews
"Deserves to be savored . . . amazing and incredibly satisfying."
—A Book Obsession
Magic Without Mercy
"Urban fantasy at its finest. . . . Every book is packed with action, adventure, humor, battles, romance, drama, and suspense. . . . Clear your calendar. Once you start reading, you won't want to stop."
— _Sacramento Book Review_
"Fast-paced, action-packed, and jammed full of all manner of magical mayhem."
—Monsters and Critics
"A roller-coaster ride. I simply could not put it down!"
—A Book Obsession
Magic on the Line
"Dark and delicious. . . . Allie is one of urban fantasy's most entertaining heroines."\
— _Publishers Weekly_ (starred review)
"Allie Beckstrom is one of the best urban fantasy heroines out there."
—Fresh Fiction
"An action-packed series."
—Night Owl Reviews
Magic on the Hunt
"An absolutely awesome series."
—Night Owl Reviews
"Another nonstop adventure."
—Romance Reviews Today __
"Amazing urban fantasy . . . this is one series that I can't get enough of and I really love how kick butt Allie is."
—Seeing Night Book Reviews
Magic at the Gate
"The action-packed fifth Allie Beckstrom novel amps up the magical mayhem. . . . Allie's adventures are gripping and engrossing, with an even, clever mix of humor, love, and brutality."
— _Publishers Weekly_
"Devon Monk takes her story to places I couldn't have dreamed of. Each twist and turn was completely surprising for me. _Magic at the Gate_ truly stands out."
—Reading on the Dark Side
"A spellbinding story that will keep readers on the edge of their seats."
—Romance Reviews Today
"Suspense is the name of the game. . . . I'm really enjoying this series. . . . Each book brings you a little bit further in to it and leaves you wanting more."
—Night Owl Reviews
Magic on the Storm
"The latest Allie Beckstrom urban fantasy is a terrific entry. . . . This is a strong tale."
—Genre Go Round Reviews
"First-rate urban fantasy entertainment."
—Lurv a la Mode
Magic in the Shadows
"Snappy dialogue, a brisk pace, and plenty of magic keep the pages turning to the end. . . . This gritty, original urban fantasy packs a punch."
—Monsters and Critics
"This is a wonderful read full of different types of magic, fascinating characters, an intriguing plot. . . . Devon Monk is an excellent storyteller."
—Fresh Fiction
"Monk sweeps readers up in the drama and dangers of the heroine's life as it steadily changes and grows . . . an intriguing read with fascinating characters and new magical elements introduced to the mix."
—Darque Reviews
"The writing moves at a fast pace with plenty of exciting action. . . . This series just gets better and better with each new book."
—Night Owl Reviews
Magic in the Blood
"Tight, fast, and vividly drawn, Monk's second Allison Beckstrom novel features fresh interpretations of the paranormal, strong characters dealing with their share of faults and flaws, and ghoulish plot twists. Fans of Patricia Briggs or Jim Butcher will want to check out this inventive new voice."
—Monsters and Critics
"[A] highly creative series. . . . If you love action, magic, intrigue, good-versus-evil battles, and pure entertainment, you will not want to miss this series."
—Manic Readers
"One heck of a ride through a magical, dangerous Portland . . . imaginative, gritty, sometimes darkly humorous. . . . An un-put-downable book, _Magic in the Blood_ is one fantastic read."
—Romance Reviews Today
"This series uses a system of rules for magic that is original and seems very realistic. . . . The structure of the story pulled me in right away and kept me reading. There's action, adventure, fantasy, and even some romance."
—CA Reviews
Magic to the Bone
"Brilliantly and tightly written . . . will surprise, amuse, amaze, and absorb readers."
— _Publishers Weekly_ (starred review)
"Mystery, romance, and magic cobbled together in what amounts to a solid page-turner."
—SFFWorld
"Loved it. Fiendishly original and a stay-up-all-night read. We're going to be hearing a lot more of Devon Monk."
—Patricia Briggs, #1 _New York Times_ bestselling author of _Fair Game_
"Highly original and compulsively readable. Don't pick this one up before going to bed unless you want to be up all night!"
—Jenna Black, author of _Sirensong_
"Gritty setting, compelling, fully realized characters, and a frightening system of magic-with-a-price that left me awed. Devon Monk's writing is addictive, and the only cure is more, more, more."
—Rachel Vincent, _New York Times_ bestselling author of _Blood Bound_
BOOKS BY DEVON MONK
The Allie Beckstrom Series
_Magic to the Bone_
_Magic in the Blood_
_Magic in the Shadows_
_Magic on the Storm_
_Magic at the Gate_
_Magic on the Hunt_
_Magic on the Line_
_Magic Without Mercy_
_Magic for a Price_
The Age of Steam
_Dead Iron_
_Tin Swift_
_Cold Copper_
HELL BENT
A BROKEN MAGIC NOVEL
Devon Monk
ROC
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014
USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China
penguin.com
A Penguin Random House Company
First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC
Copyright © Devon Monk, 2013
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
ISBN 978-1-101-60884-5
PUBLISHER'S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_2
# Contents
_Praise_
_Books by DEVON MON_ K
_Title page_
_Copyright page_
_Dedication_
_Acknowledgments_
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
_Excerpt from_ STONE COLD
For my family
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book might never have seen the light of day if readers hadn't asked me to share Shame and Terric's story with them. Yes, I'm looking at you, John DeBudge. Thank you all for wanting to spend a little more time with these troublemakers.
Deepest thanks also to my agent, Miriam Kriss, and my editor, Anne Sowards, who has an amazing knack for making each book better. A huge thank-you also to the wonderful artist, Mike Heath, and to the many people within Penguin who have gone above and beyond to make this baby shine.
To my first readers extraordinaire, Dean Woods and Dejsha Knight: your unflagging enthusiasm, support, and red-eye reads are things of legend. Thank you. I could not have done this without you. A big, big thanks to my family, one and all, for being there for me, offering encouragement, and sharing in the joy. To my husband, Russ, and sons, Kameron and Konner: thanks for all your love and support. You are the very best part of my life and I love you.
So here we are, dear readers. Thank you for the chance to share these people, this world, and this journey with you.
# Chapter 1
I'm the kind of guy who, given the chance, can break anything: hearts, dreams, lives, and yes, magic. Death magic user here. Everything I touch dies.
It's not as much fun as it sounds.
Ever since the magical apocalypse that those of us in the great city of Portland, Oregon, like to call "just another Thursday" slapped the crap out of our city and made balloon animals out of the rules of magic, my life has gone from handbasket to hell.
And today wasn't looking up.
"Don't make me throw water over your head, Shamus Flynn," Terric Conley said from where he'd settled down on the crappy chair next to my bed.
I don't like Terric. This is a problem because Terric and I not only have to work the same damn office job together, but are also tied by the only magic I can't break.
Ironic, right?
About an hour ago, I'd stumbled into my room here at my mum's inn and managed to unbutton my pants and belt and throw my jacket somewhere on the floor. From the sweaty weight on my feet, I hadn't gotten my boots off yet.
About fifteen minutes ago Terric had shown up, cheerfully yelling over the top of my hangover and pulling back curtains to let the light in.
Daylight, for shit's sake.
"Get out of my room," I mumbled into the pillow on top of my face.
"It's Wednesday."
"Fuck-de-doo."
"You said you'd come to work today, Shame. The meeting's today. No option. Not this time."
"No option?" I pushed the pillow off my face. Oh God, the light. It was blinding, even through my eyelids. "I'm the boss—remember, mate? I work when I say I work."
"No, _we_ are the boss. We, Shame, not you. Not you alone. Which is good because you haven't worked for a year and a half."
Gut punch. Not that he was wrong. I'd put in a solid year of civic-mindedness before deciding I am not a people person and am more suited for darkness, destruction, and the slow madness of trying not to give a damn.
Plus, there was the whole death-touch thing, the constant hunger to kill, to consume, that made me count the pulse beat of every living thing around me. After a year, that had gotten so bad I salivated whenever I was in a closed room with people, plants, or combustibles.
I needed life. Needed to drink it down, lap it up. Food helped, so did smoking, drinking, and other unsavory recreations. But none of it pushed the hunger away for long. I needed life, to consume it, burn it out, extinguish it.
Grim-damn-Reaper style.
So of course someone thought it would be funny to put me in charge of a city full of angry magic users. A desk job, people. Customer service. Paperwork and complaints about every magical glitch that happened in the entire damn city.
A lot of people were alive right now because I'd had the brains to stop punching the time clock. Not that I'd told Terric about it. Not that I had to. He knew me better than almost anyone. That came from half our lives spent together growing up in the Authority, which used to be the, well, authority on magic, chasing down illegal magic and deadly creatures like it was all one big game.
Until I almost killed him. And he repaid the favor.
We have what is known as a difficult relationship.
"Shame." This time he shook the bed with his foot.
"Have I said fuck off yet?"
"I'll drag you out of here."
I huffed out a laugh. Terric had spent the better part of a year going out of his way to keep his hands to himself. Well, to himself and his boyfriend of the month.
"I'd like to see you tr—"
Terric was up out of that chair, his hands around my ankles so quick I didn't even hear him move. He yanked on my boots and dragged me half down my bed before I could finish insulting him.
Eyes snapped open: Jesus, the light! Every damn window poured full-watt sunlight into the room. It was daymageddon in here.
I glared up at him.
Terric was nearly my opposite. I had dark hair, eyes that were sometimes black and sometimes dark green, rarely bothered to shave, and lately, I'd been running a good twenty pounds under my fighting weight.
Terric was taller than me, which I hated, and built like a guy who might need to jump on a jet and hit the catwalk at any moment. His hair was white-silver even though he was on one side or the other of thirty and his eyes were blue and set in a face that could knock Hollywood's leading man off the marquee. We used to be best friends before I'd almost destroyed his ability to use magic.
After that he'd moved to Seattle and become a graphic designer and gay, although he insisted he'd actually always been into both those things, I just never noticed.
"Shame," he said, almost gently. His hands were at his sides, fingers stretched out wide as if he'd just touched something filthy. "You can't keep doing this. Not this way."
"What? Get some sleep? No, apparently I can't. Because you won't leave me the hell alone."
I knew what he really meant. With that one small contact, he'd realized I was starving for life. The Death magic inside me demanded to be fed life. Any life. Mine, if there was nothing else to devour. It grew stronger, more uncontrolled, the more I denied it.
I hadn't killed anyone for more than a year, and that had been an accident—I'd passed out in an alley and woken up next to a dead bum. I hadn't destroyed, drained, demolished a living thing since. Sure, I consumed. Some. A little. Enough. Just enough. Maybe a plant withered and died, maybe a bird fell out of the sky. But not as much life as I wanted. Not what death craved.
I'd always wanted to be a superhero, well, maybe a superneutral. But Reaperman? No.
It was a fucked-up and damn slow death, staying as far away from the living world as I could. To starve myself and offer up my life to the Death inside me. But it was my death, not someone else's. And it was under my control.
Terric opened his mouth, then shut it on whatever lecture he'd been about to launch into. He tipped his head and there was, briefly, sorrow and desperation in his eyes that made my heart stop beating.
I hated when he looked at me like that. I hated that I could make him look like that.
Even though I don't like Terric, it's not because _he's_ a bad man. Quite the opposite: I am.
"Why don't you take a shower?" Terric said in that calm and easy tone he always used when he didn't want to let on how he was really feeling. "We have time."
"You're not my boss." I shoved up on my feet. "Not even my friend."
"I'm not leaving."
"Then close the blinds." I crossed the floor to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. "And don't touch my stuff."
I stripped, pissed, then got in the shower. Turned the water on as hot as my skin could stand it. I let it pound down over my back while I washed my hair. The inside of my mouth tasted like gutter runoff, so I stepped out of the shower and dripped on the floor while I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste.
Took those with me into the shower and scrubbed until I could feel my teeth. Then I applied soap and a washrag. Got that done, got out, even though both me and my headache wanted to linger awhile.
I didn't bother to shave.
Took all of three minutes from start to finish; then I wrapped a towel around my hips and barefooted it to the bedroom.
Terric was standing there, a mug from the restaurant downstairs in one hand. "Coffee."
"Apology coffee?" I asked as I stepped over a week's worth of dirty clothes on the way to my dresser.
"No, just coffee."
I pulled on boxers, blue jeans, black T-shirt. Then I added a black sweater and dug for socks of similar color.
"Have you eaten at all this week?" Terric asked. I could practically feel his gaze scraping over my ribs, spine, and shoulder blades.
"Yes. Also? None of your business."
There were four heavy rings on my dresser. Made of metal and Void stones, they looked like brushed steel with stones inset in their flat, square surfaces. I slipped them on each finger of my right hand, the red stone, the black stone, the amber, and the white, and shivered at the slight ease from the push of Death magic they gave me.
I curled my fingers into a fist, the rings lining up like brass knuckles.
"How about you drink this?" Terric said.
I turned. He held the coffee out.
"Why? Did you poison it?"
That, finally, got a dazzler of a smile out of him. Yep. Leading man material. "And ruin a good dark roast? Please."
I took the cup, which meant he and I were standing pretty close together. I could feel the Life magic coiled around him like a second skin. Just as Death magic had changed me, Life magic had changed him. He carried it inside his body, just like I carried Death. This close, I could feel Life magic reaching out to me like a cool breeze. It made my mouth water.
I took the cup. We both ignored how bad my hand was shaking.
"We could solve this," Terric said. "Use magic together, you and I. Cast a spell. Life, Shame."
"No."
"I don't understand why you won't." He lifted a hand but didn't touch me. "I've respected that you want space and time. An entire year and a half. We're still Soul Complements. We can use magic like no one else, break it so that it's just as strong as it used to be. Why fight that?"
He was right about magic. It didn't have the delightfully dangerous "use it hard and it will use you back harder" kick like the days before the apocalypse. We'd forced dark and light magic to join and mingle together, diluting the strength of both. Magic had gone soft. Limp. Light spells were a dim glow, Illusions were thin as glass, and a knock-you-senseless Impact spell was no worse than a polite pat. The price to pay for those spells had lessened too. No more weeks of pain and agony in exchange for powerful spells. The best you could hope for was a barely discernible spell that might give you a case of gas.
And while I found it hilarious that people who used to do very bad things with magic were now raging to find the magical equivalent to Viagra, I was simultaneously just a little terrified about what magic could do in my hands.
Well, in my hands and Terric's hands. Magic might be neutered, or "healed" as Terric likes to remind me, for other magic users . . . but not for us. Soul Complements, or Breakers, as some people like to call us, could make magic do all those powerful things.
As long as we used it together.
I could have told him all that. But he had heard it before. He knew why I didn't want to cast magic with him.
I took a drink of the coffee. Whatever snappy comeback I was working out died on my lips at about the same moment the coffee came alive on my taste buds. I didn't care that it was hot enough to scorch. I gulped it down all in one go.
"You know you need it," Terric said. "Need me. Need Life magic. Just like that coffee."
I tipped the cup down. Was going to ask what the hell he was talking about. But then I got it. He'd put something, a spell of some kind, in the coffee.
"You spiked my coffee."
"I spelled your coffee."
"With what?"
"Health. A little Life will do you good, Shame. Nothing you say will change my opinion on that."
I dragged my tongue over the roof of my mouth a couple times. "Gritty." Truth was, I felt a hell of a lot better. Sure, I was still hungry, sure, I was still hungover, but at least there was something—coffee and magic—in my belly. Something to stave off the death growing in me.
I hated to admit that Terric could do something to make my hunger and need go away.
Because every time he cast magic with me, every time I admitted I needed him, magic tied us closer together. I'd watched it happen with other people like us, other Soul Complements.
I knew what my future held. Either I would become a killing monstrosity like Jingo Jingo and other Death magic users before me, or I would die, consumed by my own hunger. Since the whole monstrosity thing was just too cliché and would make my mum cry, I'd made my choice.
There was no need to drag Terric down with me.
"There's a meeting today?" I asked.
He nodded slowly. "The Overseer called. He's flying into Portland. Says it's urgent?"
"I knew this?" I kicked pants, shirts, and half a dozen random cheeseburger wrappers out of the way, looking for my shoes. My room was a mess of clothes and broken things—a pile of burnt matches on the dresser, the phone book I'd compulsively shredded page by page for six hours straight that overflowed the wastebasket, and six dead potted plants that had been alive the day before yesterday.
I could draw life out of almost anything. And I did. The furniture in my room wasn't antique; it had gone frail beneath the incessant picking of Death magic. My jeans weren't faded and shredded at the edges for fashion's sake.
"Yes," I realized Terric was saying, "I told you on the phone yesterday. I told you at the bar the day before. And I told you by e-mail the day before that. You're not listening to me, are you?"
"What?"
He sighed. "Your boots are in the bathroom."
"Right." I pulled my coat off the bottom of the bed and shrugged into it. "Where's the meeting?"
"St. Johns."
"Again?"
I walked into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bathtub to tie my boots. Ever since the four wells of magic under Portland had turned out to be five—the hidden fifth well crystallized beneath St. Johns—a lot of magic users saw it as some kind of sacred ground. Neutral territory, peaceful land of blessed magic users mumbo-in-the-jumbo.
Not that magic users had much in the way of fighting one another anymore, other than traditional guns and violence. Which, sure, could be handy, but lacked the particularly satisfying backstab–double-cross–kill-you-dead-without-anyone-knowing that magic used to offer.
Since healing magic had included restoring people's memories that those of us in the magic-oversight business had worked hard to take away, well, both the government and law enforcement agencies and the magic-ruling Authority were pretty twitchy about the role magic played on all levels now.
Or at least that's how it had been the last time I was paying attention a year ago.
"...be there," Terric was saying. "Are you listening?"
"Yes," I lied. I walked out of the bathroom.
Terric lounged by the front door, staring at his nails. "Liar."
I grinned. "Only when I'm conscious. Ready?"
"Waiting on you."
But I wasn't talking to Terric. I was talking to the ghost who was hovering near my half-filled bookshelf.
Eleanor Roth. She had long light hair, an athletic twentysomething body, and a smile that transformed her from pretty to pretty please. She had wanted to date me once.
But now she was a ghost, tied to me and the magic I wielded. She was a constant reminder of what happens when I lose control over the Death magic inside me. I had consumed her. Put my hands on her and drunk her down.
I'd taken her life, but somehow she hadn't quite gotten death out of it either.
Like I said, I can break anything.
And I regretted what I did to her more than anyone would know.
She pointed to a book on the shelf. I strode over, pulled it out, glanced at the front cover. _The Eyre Affair_ by Jasper Fforde. It was probably a gift from my mum. I didn't remember reading it.
"I don't think you'll need reading material at the meeting," Terric said. "It won't be that boring."
He couldn't see Eleanor. Not without working magic specifically to look for her. I made it a point not to mention her. Ever.
Over the last three years of being haunted, I'd found out Eleanor liked to read. So I helped out with that, tried to get to the bookstore once a month so she could pick out new books, turned the pages so she could read.
It was the least I could do for what I'd done to her.
I pocketed the book. Eleanor smiled and floated along beside me.
"Everything about this job bores me," I said to Terric.
He just shook his head. He didn't believe me.
Who could blame him?
# Chapter 2
Terric did the driving. I did what I did best: nothing. Just slouched in the front seat, eyes closed behind dark sunglasses, coat collar flipped up to my cheekbones, head pounding. It took a lot to get me drunk, double that to push me into hangover land. Three days and nights in a bar just about did it every time.
Except I usually got a day or so of sleep afterward. The half hour of shut-eye I'd managed only sharpened my headache.
"Shit," Terric said, slowing the car. "That's Hamilton. Stay here. I'll be right back." He parked the car, opened the door, and was out of it in the same amount of time it took me to open my eyes.
Narrow street, old warehouses, MLK Boulevard. Whatever, whoever Hamilton was, it must be serious. Not only was Terric running down the street all long-legged and action-heroed, but he had also double-parked on the wrong side of the street.
I thought about calling the cops to ticket him for it. Imagined how angry he would be. Smiled. Closed my eyes again.
Eleanor poked me in the shoulder.
Thing about ghosts—they are dead cold. And stubborn. She poked my arm a second time, gentle as a dull ice pick chipping at my bones.
"What?" I said. "He's fine."
Poke.
Opened my eyes. Again. "I am not running out there after him."
She pointed at my heart.
"Nothing there, love," I said. "Empty as a shadow."
A man slipped out one of the warehouse doors and walked quickly in the opposite direction that Terric had gone. He looked over his shoulder, then caught sight of me sitting in the car. Light hair cut short and clean, thin, tanned face with eyes set just too wide on either side of his nose. He wore black boots, dark jeans, and a button-down short-sleeve shirt he'd rolled the sleeves up on to show the tattoo of a stylized black feather.
He pulled one hand up, stuck his finger at me, thumb cocked like a gun. Even from this distance I could read his lips as he jerked his hand in a shooting motion: "dead."
There was no spell attached to that action, and I'd never seen this joker before in my life. I flipped him off and mouthed, _Bite me_.
He scowled and moved off at a jog. Sure was in a hurry to be somewhere.
Then the back-of-the-head slap of magic being used, bent, and manhandled hit me hard enough I hissed. Terric was casting magic. More than that, Terric was trying to break magic.
Without me.
"Balls. What does he think he's doing?"
Eleanor poked right in the middle of my forehead this time, the pain and cold of her finger mixing with all the rest of the hurt in me.
"Damn it, woman, stop touching me."
She held up a finger and aimed it at my eye.
"Fine!" I shoved the door open and groaned. It was too damn sunny, too damn cold, and too damn early for me to be walking this damn street to save Terric's damn magic-wielding skin.
New plan: find Terric, knock him out, no magic required. Then drive back to my room where I could sleep off the knife-wielding banshees screaming in my head.
I stormed down the street clenching and unclenching my fists, the rings scraping between my fingers. I hoped to hell there was going to be someone I could punch at the end of this.
Unfortunately, someone else had the same idea.
Just as I reached the corner of the alley, I saw a guy move out of the shadow. I ducked the fist aimed at my face. Took a shot at the guy's ribs. Since the man was built like an ox, the only bones that cracked were my knuckles.
"Bloody hell!"
"Don't kill him, Shame," Terric said from somewhere farther down the alley where he was, apparently, holding his own against three guys.
"If I'd wanted him dead . . ." I jumped back out of the man's reach. "I'd have already . . ." The heel of my boot hit something slick.
Fuck. __
I went down hard, knocking the back of my head against the moss-covered brick wall.
_I'll take "concussion" for four hundred, Alex._
While I reacquainted myself with the inside of my eyelids, Terric got busy with the swearwords he saved for injuries, breakups, and soccer—excuse me— _football_. Since I didn't hear any vuvuzelas, I didn't know why he was cussing.
Sure, Terric was my partner—work, not bed—but half the time I had no idea what was going on in that head of his.
I opened my eyes just in time to see the ox swing a steel-toed boot the size of a Hummer at my gut. I rolled.
Not fast enough.
The boot clipped me in the low back. White, ragged pain shot down my butt and leg. It didn't do a damn thing to improve my mood.
It did, however, shake loose my hunger.
Hunger to kill. Hunger to consume.
Death magic is never more than a thought away for me. I've been told that I look like the Grim Reaper himself when I spend too much time away from Terric, who has the same screwed-up overpowerful thing going with Life magic and therefore sort of cancels my Death magic thing. Yes, it's more involved than that. No, I don't like to go into the details.
But my point: Grim Reaper—with a hangover.
Bad news for the bastard beating me up.
"Changed my mind about the whole not-killing thing," I said. "Too bad for you, mate."
"Shame," Terric warned. I heard footsteps running away. Was he letting those men go?
Didn't have time to look.
I flicked my fingers, rings sparking as I carved a glyph in the air between me and the ox. Binding spell, not death. I wanted him to hurt before I snapped his neck.
The Binding, a net of black and silver magic sharp as razor blades, lashed out to hover in the air in front of me.
Magic might be kinder and gentler for most people. But it wasn't kinder or gentler for me. Nor was it was invisible.
The ox held up his hands, maybe to cast a Block spell or maybe just surprised to see such a huge, violent spell snarling inches in front of his flattened nose.
Only a handful of people can temporarily break magic into light and dark. Like splitting an atom, when you break magic, it is a power untamed. The only Breakers I knew of were Soul Complements, and there weren't many in the world.
You want to know how I know God has a twisted sense of humor? I'm one of the people who can break magic. Power at the snap of my fingers. Well, if Terric and I snap our fingers at the same time.
Casting magic on my own delivered a harder hit than a non-Breaker could ever hope for. After all, Death magic coiled inside me and raged through any spell I cast.
But casting magic didn't come without a bit of a price to pay. That headache of mine was ramping up to ride me for a day at least.
"Shamus Flynn, do not. Do. Not," Terric was saying.
Another price I paid for casting magic? Terric's nagging.
"Bind," I said, using that word to push the spell at the ox. The spell wrapped him from knee to throat and squeezed tight, dipping razor tips into his skin just deep enough to draw blood.
The ox yelled.
Now for a little Shamus happy fun time.
"This is how it's going to work, my friend." I braced my hand on the wall and tested my vertical capabilities. Knees held, back straightened, world steady as a drunken hobo.
I hurt from the kick, concussion, whiskey overdose, and magic price. But more than that, the fingers-down-the-pants _need_ to consume the man's life and every living thing around me set my heart kicking it junkie-style.
I wanted life. I wanted to drink it down and lap out the bottom of the bottle.
The moss under my fingertips was wet, spongy, and very, very alive. A tip-of-the-tongue honey-sweet burn of life filled my mouth as the moss turned brown and died. Consumed. Dead.
And I was just getting started.
I glanced over at Eleanor, who stood at the opening of the alley. She looked afraid.
"If you touch him." Terric strode my way, his pace hampered by a slight limp. "I will kick your scrawny Irish ass. And then I will tell your mother what you did."
"You're going to tell on me to my mum? What are you, six?"
That got half a smile out of him. But it did not soften the look in his eyes. The one that said Shame's happy fun time was over.
"I called Detective Stotts." Terric held up his phone like I'd be impressed he had a cop on speed dial.
"Why Stotts?" Hungry now. Done talking now. Not paying attention.
"Because the police handle murder cases. We just handle magic users."
"Paperwork. All we handle is paperwork."
" _You_ don't even do that. Why did you follow me? I told you to stay in the car. Do you enjoy getting the crap beat out of you? Don't you know how dangerous . . ."
That's when I completely tuned him out because I'd heard this lecture so many times I could sing along without the bouncing ball.
Also, the need for life and the consuming of it wasn't getting any less. The ox was still standing there, wrapped in that Binding spell I'd cast. Hurting. Ripe. Alive.
Bleeding.
Since he liked to beat up perfect strangers in dirty alleys, I presumed he was not a nice person. Therefore I would feel less horrible about killing him.
"...just deal, you idiot." Terric slammed his hand into the middle of my chest. Hard enough both my shoulders hit the bricks behind me.
I blinked, swallowed. Focused on him.
"So, Terric," I said. "When I'm breaking your fingers do you want me to start or finish with your thumbs?"
Terric completely tuned me out and was whispering to himself. So rude.
That's when I noticed he'd pulled off his Void stone necklace and dropped it somewhere at our feet where it would do exactly zip to dampen the magic coursing through him.
Life magic.
"No," I said. "Not happening. Not here. I told you to keep your hands off—"
Terric called on Life magic.
Here's what happens when he does that—he goes all white-light angelic looking, which the chicks, and I guess some of the dudes, really like. Then the magic inside him devours his humanity. His eyes go silver, no pupils, no white. Any shred of heart, soul, or mind of that man is wiped away. Replaced with a cold, alien thing that looks out from behind his eyes. Life magic. It was not human. It was not Terric.
And one of these days when he called on it, Life magic was going to take over for good and Terric wasn't going to come back to being Terric.
Every time he lost control of Life magic, it changed him. Sure, it had been subtle for the first year or so. How he'd forget to laugh or to carry on a conversation without long pauses. How he'd stare out a window and whisper to himself for hours and not remember doing it.
Each time he used Life magic, it took him a little longer to come back to being the Terric I knew and sometimes, such as around repentance holidays, liked.
He'd told me I was just making shit up about him going inhuman.
He was right to think so. I made shit up all the time. But not that shit.
Terric, who still looked mostly human, drew a glyph with his free hand, tracing white magic that glowed green at the edges into the air.
Something brushed my boot.
Plants sprang to life. Vines and flowers and those tropical leafy things that always look plastic in hotel lobbies wriggled up out of the cracks in the concrete and bricks, growing at time-lapse speeds.
"No. Just. Don't," I said.
"Shut up and eat your vegetables," Terric snarled.
Annoying—that was still the Terric I knew.
The plants were elbow high, vibrating with life. Terric showed no sign of backing down.
I hated him for not backing down. I hated him for being right. I needed life. And he could give it to me without it killing him.
Much.
I couldn't endure the hunger a second more. I cussed and threw my hands out to both sides, palms down. I gave in to the hunger and devoured the plants, greedily consuming, killing. Without moving a single inch, I sucked the sweet life out of every stalk and frond he called up out of the world.
I was pulling on the life around me so hard the concrete under my feet cracked and shifted as I dug down looking for more.
As fast as I could consume life, Terric could call upon it faster. Life magic poured out of him in that alien white light, green and growing, smothering me, drowning me in life.
Somewhere in the back of my head a reasonable part of me was counting down from ten. When I hit one, I'd punch Terric in the face if that's what it took to get his hands off me and break his magic spree.
We'd both done stupid things when we lost control of magic. Stupider things when we'd lost it at the same time, together.
I'd sort of made it my life's goal not to use magic with him. Not to let him use magic with me. Because when I did, when _we_ did, Terric wasn't Terric anymore. He wasn't human. And one of these days he wasn't going to recover from that.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
Two and a haaalf.
I curled my right hand into a fist. Time to stop this. Time to stop him.
Before I lost him. __
"Terric," Detective Stotts said from somewhere to my right, completely blowing my concentration. "What is going on?"
Detective Paul Stotts was a decent human being with Hispanic heritage and an unflappable moral code. Today, he was wearing a blue scarf tucked into the collar of his jacket, dark slacks, and a frown. They used to say he was cursed, but that wasn't true. An awful lot of cover-ups and deaths in this city were caused by magic people didn't know about, and it was Stotts's job to investigate those deaths.
It had also been the job of the Authority to keep people, and especially detectives like Stotts, from discovering how deadly magic could be back then. The Authority did that by taking away people's memories.
Weird stuff used to happen a lot around Detective Stotts. There had been no explanation for it because we made sure there wouldn't be.
Now everyone had their memories back. Including him. It was a problem.
"About time you got here," I said. I shoved Terric's hand off me and stepped to one side to make sure I was out of his reach. I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets to keep from touching him again.
Terric took a step back, blinking hard like he wasn't quite seeing the real world yet. Not a lot of human in that angelic face of his. Not a lot of my friend.
Had I let it go on too long?
I bent, scooped up the Void stone buried in the plant ashes, and dropped the stone into his hand. He shuddered at the contact of the magic-canceling stone.
"Shamus," Stotts said. "I haven't seen you out of a bar for the last month."
"You've been keeping an eye on me? You're a sweetheart. This"—I pointed at the ox—"is something Terric seemed worried about."
Stotts glanced at the man. His eyebrows went up a bit. That Bind spell I'd cast was standard back in the day, but much rarer to see now.
"Did you do this?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"He wasn't using his inside voice."
Stotts slid me a scowl.
I so didn't care.
"Terric?" he asked.
Terric didn't say anything.
His eyes were closed, hands curled around the stone, pressing it against his chest as if hoping it would fill a hole inside him. His lips were moving so slightly I couldn't tell what he might be whispering.
He swallowed hard, then opened his eyes.
A lot of light coming out of those blues. Cold, silver light.
"Terric?" Stotts said in his put-the-gun-down voice.
"We got a lead," Terric said like he was reading someone else's lines from a note card. "This man, Hamilton, Stan Hamilton, has information on the girl who showed up dead out in Forest Park yesterday."
By the end of the sentence, he sounded more like Terric. Looked more like him too. Blue eyes blue, white glow gone. Life magic was pushed back somewhere inside him where most people wouldn't look.
He crossed his arms and made a point of not looking at me. I wasn't most people.
"I called as soon as I saw him," he said. "Then Shame got involved. Started a fight."
"Started? You mean ended a fight," I corrected. "Like usual."
"You should know better," Stotts said.
"Excuse me?"
"There are procedures for using magic on other citizens, Mr. Flynn. Rules that every person in this city must follow now, whether they are Authority or non-Authority."
"Hello? Choir here you're singing to."
"I'm assuming Terric told you to stay out of this matter with Hamilton?"
"Yes, but—"
"Procedure. You will make some effort to follow it from now on."
I bit down on a smile. My bad habit of arguing with police officers had never once worked in my favor. "We called you, didn't we?"
"Terric called me."
"And?"
"This town doesn't need a vigilante," he said.
"Vigilante? You got me wrong, mate. I'm too lazy for that kind of thing. Spent a month in a bar, remember?"
"I've seen the things you've done in the past."
"Yeah, well, that was the past."
Right about then another police car pulled up.
"Let's keep it that way," Stotts said. "Just to be clear, you'll let the police do our job and you'll stay out of it. If you want a fight, do me a favor to take it outside my jurisdiction so I don't have to explain to Allie or Nola why I threw you in jail. Better yet, go on vacation, get a girlfriend."
"I'll get right on that," I said.
Stotts headed to the ox with a pair of handcuffs. Yes, my spell had held. Because I'm that good.
I didn't think he really worried about telling his wife, Nola, or her best friend, Allie, that he'd thrown me in jail. It wouldn't surprise them, anyway. More likely he just didn't want to deal with the paperwork.
I sympathized.
I turned and made for the street.
"Shame?" Stotts said. "The spell?"
I waved my hand over my shoulder and broke the spell. It pattered to the ground and hissed out like wet coals.
Eleanor floated along at my right, keeping her distance. Smart ghost. Not that there was anything more horrible I could do to her. I hoped.
Terric fell into step on my left.
"Are you going to tell me what the hell I just got in the middle of?" I asked.
"A murder. They think. Ten-year-old. Forest Park."
"I thought you said we didn't deal with murderers."
"We don't," he said. "Unless they use magic to do it."
Fuck. That sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen anymore. People weren't supposed to be able to use magic to kill.
I dug in my coat pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit up. The ache to consume was satisfied for the moment, thanks to Terric, but I was still twitchy.
"Let's just get to the damn meeting," I said.
"You don't care about any of this, do you?"
"Been saying that for months, mate."
"Shame." He grabbed my arm.
I stopped, turned, and looked at him.
"Someone is murdering people with magic," he said.
"I heard you. Let go of my arm."
"And you don't care."
"I don't _anything._ " __ I shoved his shoulder. He took half a step back but didn't let go of my sleeve. "I haven't been involved in this shit for a year," I snapped. "Why should I change that now?"
"Because a little girl is dead."
I nodded and sucked on my cigarette, doing what I could to hide how that really made me feel—angry and sick. And, yeah, helpless. The world was a fucked-up place. There was jack all I could do about it.
"And?" I asked with no tone.
"Jesus." He exhaled. "What happened to you, Shame?"
"Not everyone wants to be a hero."
"How about being a decent human being?"
"This is as decent as I get."
He stared at me a little longer. I had nothing left to say. He let go of my coat. Let go of me. Stormed off to the car.
Didn't blame him.
I threw the cig on the ground. It was ashes already. Consumed.
I tipped my head and sunglasses down so I could get a good look at the redheaded chick with the sniper rifle on the roof of the building across the street. She had a hell of a view of the alley from up there, an unobstructed shot, and had been following me since yesterday morning, or maybe the day before that.
I hadn't told Terric about her yet. Thought for sure she'd have taken the shot at him or me when she had the chance, but she hadn't. So, rule out our imminent death by sniper rifle.
That was good, right?
She was also packing up, so that meant the cops weren't her target either, and neither was the ox, Hamilton. Huh.
"Haul it, Flynn," Terric yelled. "We're late."
"Like normal?" I asked.
He didn't answer. Yep. He was angry. How human of him.
"Maybe you should take a vacation," I said as I neared the car.
"Oh, every day's a vacation when I'm around you, Flynn."
"Right. I know. But I'm serious. You could take your boyfriend. Is it still Mike? No. Greg? Wait. That was last year's model. You've traded him in for someone shiny and new, haven't you?"
I ducked into the car and Eleanor passed through the closed door to sit in the backseat.
"Shut up, Shame," he said.
And just because we were sometimes friends, and that redheaded sniper not killing us had oddly put me in a better mood, I did.
# Chapter 3
If you ask me, there are about a thousand better places to have a meeting in Portland than the old woolen mill over in St. Johns. For instance, any place that sells beer.
Obviously, no one asked me.
Terric parked a couple blocks away and started walking without so much as a single word. He hadn't said anything on the drive over either. Not that I cared. My headache was pounding spikes into my brain. Sure, he'd used magic to make things grow so I could kill and consume so my hunger for death wasn't back yet. But it wouldn't be gone long.
I got out of the car and lit a cigarette, smoking as I made my way to the front entrance. Terric stormed inside the building before I'd even made it halfway down the street. I took a look around to see if Assassin Chick was up on the roofs or down the dark alleys.
Nope.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just a little disappointed.
Ah well. It was, if not fun, at least distracting while it lasted.
Of course a meeting roomful of magic users might be its own little good time.
I threw my cigarette to the ground, then walked into the building. The main meeting room was up a couple flights, and I so wasn't walking those. I took the elevator at the end of the hall, stepped in, pushed the button, and stuffed my hands in my coat pockets while I waited.
The only other person in the elevator with me was Eleanor. She stood near the buttons and bent a little, her hair flowing down around her face in that sort of underwater slo-mo she had going for her.
She pushed a button, but it didn't respond to her, so she quickly pushed all the other buttons.
"Worst. Poltergeist. Ever," I muttered.
She made a face at me.
The door opened and that kind of silence that makes you want to chew gum filled the hall. Mute spell, I'd guess. Couldn't have a secret meeting of secret magic users and make a ruckus.
As soon as I reached the meeting room at the end of the hall, the Mute spell swallowed me up and let in the roll of voices. Sounded like we had a crowd today. Of course, last I knew it had been a while since the Overseer of the Authority had been here in our little, but dangerously quirky, town.
I paused in the doorway and tipped my sunglasses down.
Crowd was right. Fifty people at the least. Lots of familiar faces.
Bring on the good times.
I pushed my glasses back up, spread my hands wide, and called out, "Hello, party people! Drinks are on Terric!"
I grinned as all eyes turned to me. A lot of people had retired out of the secret magic business over the last three years. It made sense—there wasn't much of a secret left about magic's business, and since magic couldn't do the big world-changing explosive sorts of spells anymore, the gig had lost a lot of financial and political influence.
Most of the people in the room I knew either well or well enough.
Zayvion Jones: tall, dark, and deadly. My best friend and a real goody-goody, though I'd never held it against him. Allie Beckstrom: tall, light, and deadly, she was Zay's girlfriend and really, the reason we had all survived the apocalypse.
Next up: Victor Forsythe. Dressed casual, which meant no vest with his jacket today. He was one of my teachers and an old-school magic stick-in-the-mud. Clyde Turner: rocking the NY Giants jersey in extra-extra large. A down-to-earth guy who took over the position of Blood magic when my mum ran off to Alaska with her old crush.
Plenty of other people I knew too. Violet Beckstrom-Cooper, slender, but a little icy for my tastes. She used to be married to Allie's dad and had taken over his magic and tech enterprise. Next to her was Kevin Cooper, a man with an unremarkable face, and a killer's instincts who used to be her bodyguard.
Melba Maide looked as disheveled as always, which I'd long suspected she did to throw people off her litigious brilliance. She was talking to the Beckstrom accountant, Ethan Katz.
It did not escape my devious little mind that there were only old-timey Authority magic users in the room. No police. No Hounds who used to track illegal spells and, yeah, might still do that, but more often worked with the police as informants. No government officials.
No "normals."
This appeared to be a magic-user-only invitation. Naughty. It wasn't like us magic users or the Overseer to sneak around behind the law anymore. We were purely aboveboard open-book saintly types nowadays.
Well, except for when it came to the things we wanted to hide.
My grand entrance got a mixed reaction from the crowd. A little hatred and amusement, but mostly just long-suffering annoyance. Huh, I must be losing my touch. I could usually get at least one or two people riled up enough to tell me to shut up.
"Everyone." Terric was on the other side of the room, his coat shucked and already draped over the back of a chair. He had found a microphone. Bastard.
"Thank you for coming." He tipped his head down and gave me a look. "Shame, shut the door."
Doorman. Really?
If I cared about the fact that I should be up there at that microphone with him, doing this job with him, I might be angry that he'd pretty much just publically demoted me from Head of the Authority to Guy Who Shuts Doors.
Luckily, I didn't care about any of it. Right?
I turned, shut the door. Then leaned against the wall and glared at Terric through my sunglasses.
He felt the glare. Even across the room. He lifted his chin and pulled his shoulders back. Then he ignored me.
"You two still fighting?" Zayvion asked.
Zay and Allie stopped next to me. They stood there, arm in arm, Allie just an inch or two shorter than Zavyion's six foot something. She wore a tank top that showed off those kick-ass magic-born tattoos down her arm and the bands of dusty black ringing her other wrist and elbow. Now that we weren't on the run for our lives, both Allie and Zay had put on about ten pounds, and lost the dark circles under their eyes.
They smiled more, laughed more, and had that calm, sweet dedication to each other that meant they never walked into a room without holding hands.
I figured kids couldn't be far off now.
Zay's hair was buzzed short, and he had on a gray T-shirt that made his dark skin look even darker and set off the stone in the necklace he insisted on wearing. Apparently, the necklace had been an anniversary gift from Allie. Apparently, they were keeping track of those sorts of things now.
"You know how he is," I said. "Stick up his ass." I leaned toward Zay just a bit and pulled my glasses down. "Which he enjoys."
Allie just rolled her eyes. Green, with a glint of mischief tempered by that lingering sadness that made a man's heart skip a beat or two. Dark hair brushing right at her shoulders, pale skin. And yes, a beauty.
"We haven't seen you around much lately," she said. "What have you been doing?"
"Who. Ask me who I've been doing."
"You have a girlfriend?" Didn't sound like she believed me.
"I have a beautiful, full-bodied flaxen vixen at my side every night."
"So, a bottle of whiskey?" Zay asked.
I grinned. "Ah, now. Do I look like a lad who'd kiss and tell?"
Zay gave me one of those looks of his that could wound a man who still had a heart. "You're in a slump, Shamus. If you don't pull out of it, I'm going to pull you out. By your nostrils."
"I like how you think I'm afraid of you, Jones. What are you going to do? Throw magic at me?"
"Yes," Allie and Zay said at the same time.
I made a tsk-tsk sound. "Listen to you two. Aren't you just the hard-core Soul Complements now? Not only finishing, but also starting each other's sentences. Do you still remember who pees standing up?"
Allie pulled her hand away from where she'd draped it through Zayvion's arm. She took me down a notch with one raised eyebrow. "Don't be an ass, Shame."
It was unfair of me to dig at them about how fucking in sync they'd become with each other since the apocalypse. They'd both, separately, told me they were happy. Allie had given up the life of a Hound so she could restore an old house in St. Johns. She had plans of opening it up as a community center for disadvantaged kids or something. Zayvion had given up being Guardian of the gates so he could do whatever Allie was doing.
I didn't begrudge them their happiness.
Oh, who was I kidding? I hated them for it. Hated that they'd gone through hell and back again for each other and ended up so damn happy. What had I gotten? A round-trip through hell, then a "We're sorry, Mr. Flynn. Your happiness was lost in route through purgatory. Better luck next time."
"By the nostrils," Zay said with enough chill in his words I knew I'd struck a nerve.
It was good to see him rile a bit. To know he'd still threaten to wipe the floor with me—not that he could—if I made Allie frown.
I counted on him standing up and taking me down one of these days. And the way things were going, it would be sooner rather than later.
The first pangs of hunger, of the need to consume life, scraped through my belly. And there was a hell of a lot of life in this room.
I pushed my sunglasses back into place. I usually didn't regret giving him a hard time, but Allie was right—that had been an ass move. I might hate that they had found happiness, but I didn't hate them. They were the closest damn thing I had to a brother and sister. I thought very highly of those two crazy kids.
"Duly noted, mate."
Zay was classy enough to take it as the apology I meant it as.
"Shh." Allie pointed to the stage.
I tuned the world back in. Roomful of people who thought they were important, magically speaking. Terric up onstage glowing like he'd been dipped in angel shit.
Yes, angel shit glows. Never seen proof it doesn't.
"...welcome the Overseer of the Authority, Salvatore Moretti." Terric stepped away from the mic, and even though a normal crowd would clap, we didn't.
Not so good at the normal, us magic users.
A man stepped up to the stage. He was just under six feet tall, I'd guess, built a little on the thick side with an impressive mop of steel gray hair and mustache to match. I'd guess he was a lady-killer in his day, but was a little heavy in the jowl now. Still, there was a wicked intensity to his dark eyes.
This was the second time I'd ever seen the man. The Overseer position of the Authority used to mean making the hard calls for all members of the Authority in the world, dealing with reports from the regional Watch and Ward, who in turn took reports and complaints from those of us on the street, as it were.
The Overseer position changed hands and countries every four years. He had taken it on right after we'd snipped magic's nads. It had been a chaotic time, an uncomfortable coming-out between the secret organization of magic users and the rest of the world.
A few people had been thrown in jail, still more were up on trial, but the world hadn't gone to war or followed through with those witch-hunt rallies that were all the rage for the first couple years.
Well, not officially.
And the Overseer had handled the entire mess pretty well. We'd held up our side of the bargain too, or at least Terric had. And since Portland was one of the only cities in the world that had five wells of magic beneath it, that meant we had more than our share of crazies, cover-ups, and other dangerous meltdowns to handle.
"Thank you all for coming here, especially those of you from other areas of the United States," he began.
What? Reassess the room, Flynn.
Local faces, local faces. Ah, there. Three sets of couples I hadn't noticed before because they were sitting at a table and the standing crowd obscured them. I didn't recognize the twentysomething guy with the cougar fortysomething woman, nor the milk-skinned yuppie man and woman who were both squarely in their thirties. I did, however, recognize the elderly man and woman.
Doug and Nancy Williams. They were legends when I was a kid, and old then. They had to be pushing their nineties. Seeing two old magic users wasn't all that unusual. The unusual thing was that they were Soul Complements, the oldest known to be living, even though they hadn't found each other until they were in their sixties.
My mum and all my other teachers in the ways of magic made a point of telling us, constantly, that Soul Complements didn't last. Soul Complements burned out, were killed, went crazy, or simply croaked from magical ailments.
No happy endings for those of us who can use magic together stronger than anyone else.
Not even a happy middle.
But every breath old Doug and Nancy took was one more whack with the cane to that shack of lies. Happy endings for Soul Complements, which included growing old and gray together without killing each other like me and Terric, or losing yourself in the other person's mind and personality like Allie and Zay, might just be possible.
Or, you know, Doug and Nancy could be a complete fluke.
I wasn't the only one staring at the couples at the table. Everyone else in the room realized there were an awful lot of Soul Complements gathered in one place. To be specific, there were five sets. The three couples at the table, lovebirds Allie and Zay, and though it made me barf in my mouth a little, Terric and me.
Which meant I got a few stares too. Mostly followed by disgust.
Ain't that just special?
"Shame," Zay said quietly.
I looked over at him. He nodded toward the stage.
"...of quite a serious nature," the Overseer was saying. "We all know that three years ago, magic was healed: dark and light magic rejoined. We didn't realize just how mild magic would become due to that rejoining. I believe we, and most of the world, have done an admirable job coping with that loss of magic, and the changes it has brought about.
"Soul Complements are in a unique position. When they work magic together, they are able to briefly break magic into its dark and light states, and cast it once again with the full force and effect it once offered."
Not news. Not even worth rehashing. There'd been a hustle back in the early-postapocalypse days to try to find more Soul Complements. To seek the poor suckers out and shove this happy screwed-if-you-do, screwed-if-you-don't life down their craws.
Hadn't worked. One, the system for judging if when two people use magic together they are so in sync they can break it used to involve several dozen experienced magic users and a fine manipulation of magic for both the testees and the testers. With the dulling of magic, that system was simply not viable anymore.
Two, there are a lot of people in this old world. And since everyone can use magic if they want to, tracking down perfect matches was damn near impossible and turned out to be a waste of time, what with all the magic haters out there.
We'd given up, and done our best to keep the whole Soul Complement situation on the down-low.
"We have recent proof that high-ranking government officials in major countries are now aware of Soul Complements and what they can do with magic. They know there aren't many Soul Complements in the world, but we believe they have their names and information. They know that Soul Complements can break magic."
Huh. Maybe the redheaded assassin was government issue. Still didn't explain why she hadn't shot us.
"We believe governments are screening magic users and setting up protocol to search for Soul Complements."
"For real?" I asked. "Why do they give a damn?"
Shut-up glares zinged my way from all corners.
I didn't care. Life was a lot more fun now that magic couldn't do the bigger "shut up, Shame" spells I'd been dealt in the past.
The Overseer didn't seem overly bothered by the question. "We believe, Mr. Flynn, that they intend to use Soul Complements to break magic and use magic either as a resource, or a weapon. They are certainly more interested in finding Soul Complements than makes me comfortable."
"Right, sure," I said. "Who wouldn't want to get their hands on the only people who can use magic to kill, destroy, and yada-yada ultimate destruction. What do you think we can do about it? Go on strike? Sign a petition?"
I wasn't going to lie. I had a bad feeling of exactly what he wanted us to do about it. Probably something heroic like band together and take down the government forces that wanted to use magic for less than savory reasons.
And while some people, like Zay and Allie and Terric, would probably line up like good little soldiers and do just what was expected of them, I wasn't good at doing what I was told.
Ever.
"That is why I am here," he intoned. Yes, intoned.
"We believe you are each in grave danger and may, even now, be targeted. Our intelligence suggests government forces want you alive. But we cannot be one hundred percent sure of that.
"This meeting is both a warning and an offer of assistance. If you want to go into hiding, we in the Authority can make that happen. If you want security guards, we can provide that too. But it is of the highest importance you understand you are in terrible danger before you make the decision of how you want to go forward."
I wondered how the other Soul Comps were taking the news of their sudden popularity.
They looked startled. Even old Doug and Nancy had gone a whiter shade of white. I'd say they were going to run. All of them. They were going to hide.
Good on them.
Then I glanced at Allie and Zay. They were staring straight ahead at Moretti with that odd blank look Zay had once told me meant they were speaking to each other silently.
Creeped me the hell out that they could do it, but I had to admit it would be useful.
They were also holding hands, fingers slipped one between the next, pale, dark, pale. I didn't expect them to run. Hide? Maybe.
No way the old Zavyion would have run, but now that Allie was in his life, he was all about safer decisions. Being responsible.
And boring.
Allie, though . . . there was something about her. She had that tough-as-nails but fragile-as-glass thing going on. I'd seen her handle some really crappy situations, most of them while her life was on the line.
So death threats weren't anything she hadn't heard before. She knew how to deal with death. Dying did not scare that chick. She'd done it too damn many times.
But this threat shook her. Her hand in Zay's was so tight I could see the bone of her knuckles. And her other hand was flat across her stomach as if just thinking about someone out to kill her and Zay made her sick.
It was . . . weird.
I frowned, caught Zay's eyes. He gave me a blank stare.
No, that wouldn't do at all.
I slid my gaze to Allie's hand over her stomach, then right back at him.
Well, mate? What's that all about?
Gold flashed in his eyes like paint hitting ink. Not a speck of brown left, only violent anger.
Holy shit. Z didn't like me pointing this out to him. I wondered what the hell I was pointing out to him.
I gave him a sly I-know-what's-going-on-here smile, even though I had no clue what had made him so angry.
He tipped his head down just enough to tell me, he knew I knew, and he'd talk to me about it later.
Good. It was going to be all kinds of fun to find out what he didn't want me to know.
He lifted a finger and pointed at the stage.
Right, there were important people talking about important things.
I'd heard the only thing that really mattered—someone wanted me dead.
Big deal. The line started on the left.
Up onstage, Terric was wide-eyed and still, like a deer caught in rifle sights who'd just heard a stick snap. He was frozen, staring at me. I wasn't sure if he was breathing.
Fuck. Of all the time for him to lose his composure.
I started toward the stage. No need for everyone to be staring at him like that.
"I am sorry, Mr. Flynn," the Overseer was saying.
Hold on. I must have missed something.
"About what?" I asked, still moving toward Terric.
"About relieving you and Terric Conley of your position as Head of the Authority here in Portland."
# Chapter 4
"What?" I stopped, twisted on my heel so I could face the guy. I was still on the floor and he was up on the slightly raised stage. "You're _firing_ me?"
"I am ending your position and will be reassigning a new Head of the Authority to speak for the magic users in Portland."
My brain was running a beat behind my mouth. "Don't bother. It should be Terric. He should be the Head of the Authority," I said. "Just because I fuck up doesn't mean he has to take the fall."
"Mr. Flynn." He somehow made my name sound like a venereal disease. "I have made my decision. You are _both_ relieved of your duties as of today. I expect each of you to turn over your files and offices, clean out your desks, and assist in the transfer of duties to the new Head of the Authority."
I was almost at the stage now. My brain had finally caught up with my mouth and run into anger on the way.
"Who's that unlucky bastard?"
"If you shut your mouth," he snapped, "I will announce his name."
Bet if he could use magic like the old days I would have just earned myself a three-month crotch rash.
"Shame." Terric waved his hand and pointed for me to come stand beside him.
Oh, God no. If Terric had his wits back, then I was not needed up there. I hated smiling and making nice. Especially in front of a crowd.
The Overseer stowed his sneer beneath his mustache and addressed the room. "It is my great pleasure to announce to you the new Head of the Authority in Portland: Clyde Turner. Mr. Turner, please come up to the microphone."
Now I didn't have to make nice. I happened to like Clyde, poor sod.
Clyde was a regular kind of guy who looked like he belonged in a beer commercial. Didn't get in anyone's business and made it clear that people could stay out of his. He was currently the Voice, or representative, of Blood magic here in town—a position my mum had abandoned after the world almost ended.
The crowd got it right this time and clapped while he walked from the side of the room to the stage. He was wearing the same combination that he always wore: baseball cap on backward, flannel shirt over a team jersey—Giants. He shook hands with the Overseer, then stuck his fingers in his jean pockets while he leaned forward toward the microphone.
"Thank you for your applause. But I'd like us all to take a moment to show some appreciation for Terric Conley and all the hard work he's done for this city over the last three years."
Terric smiled and did the hand wave thing again to get me up on the stage. I really didn't think he'd want me up there stealing his sunshine, but hey, who am I to argue?
I walked up the stairs nearest Terric. The applause faltered as I crossed the stage, and was completely silent when I stood next to him.
But now that I was this near, I could see the tension bleed out of him just a fraction. Yeah, the tie between us worked that way for him too. Some things were easier for him when I was around. Still, the majority of things, important things like living, were harder.
He was really wound up over this firing thing. Probably worried it would look bad on his résumé.
"...and Shamus Flynn did his part too," Clyde finished.
Faint praise, and true. But he didn't mean it to sound derogatory, and I didn't take it that way. When Clyde had a problem with me, he let me know. No bullshit from that guy.
"I will do everything in my power to listen to the concerns of the magical community here in Portland and make sure magic is running smoothly and working efficiently with the nonmagical businesses and communities in the Northwest.
"Now"—he glanced over his shoulder at the Overseer—"is there more that needs to be discussed on the stage, or should we open this up to a full conversation?"
Mr. Moretti strolled over to the microphone. "There is just one last thing. Please, each of you who are a Soul Complement, ask me any questions you have. I will need to know by tomorrow morning what your decisions are: to stay, to retreat. Remember we have places in all the world where you can hide.
"I will hold a second meeting with the Voices tomorrow afternoon, and tomorrow evening we will have a plan in place to accommodate the needs and safety of Soul Complements. Please make your decisions swiftly and carefully."
Decent of him. Didn't think it was going to help much. Unless the Authority had a hell of a lot more guns and technology than I knew about—which I didn't imagine they did seeing as how they'd spent hundreds of years relying on magic to take care of their problems—then it was just a matter of time before the government outpowered whatever the common magic users were doing to try to help the Soul Comps.
Cue the conversation. The rise of voices stroked across my senses and rattled my hunger loose. Sure, Terric's magic had helped push the need to feed away a bit, but this many people in one place, especially all worked up with heartbeats elevated, triggered my need to drink them down. The whole rich, alive stew of them.
But if I started feeding, I'd wipe out the room, then wipe out every living thing in the building and probably a block radius.
I stuck my right hand in my jacket and ran my thumb over the Void stone rings, rubbing them together when what I really wanted was to tear something, anything, apart. Breaking things kept my mind off the need to feed.
Terric's hand landed on my shoulder and I shivered at the rush that shot down my spine and clenched my gut. Life magic right there inside him, easy for the picking.
Jesus.
He leaned in close enough he didn't have to raise his voice over the sound of the crowd. "Be nice, shake hands, make it quick. We're going to the office to take care of things."
"Why would I want to go to the office?"
His hand squeezed until my neck hurt. "Because. I. Need. You. To."
Then he released my shoulder and walked away, calm and smiling, and in control. The bastard.
I strode across the room, making eye contact with anyone who looked at me. They all looked away. Terric played his part. Shook hands, made conversation, appeared concerned for people.
But I was doing them the highest favor of all: getting the hell away from them.
Eleanor drifted along beside me, arms crossed, and frowning.
I stopped halfway down the hall and fumbled for a cigarette. Pulled out the pack and tapped out two. Lit one, which burned to ash in my shaking hand almost too quickly for me to use it to light the other cigarette.
I inhaled, savoring chemicals and tobacco, and more so, savoring the burning, destructive death of plant matter and paper. Got about halfway through it before I noticed Eleanor was pointing at a NO SMOKING sign.
"Sorry, love," I said. "I'm immune to rules. Followed too many when I was young." I exhaled smoke. "Built up a tolerance."
I leaned on the wall next to the sign, finished off the cigarette, and lit another one. Even at this distance and through the Mute spell, I could feel their heartbeats, could feel the pulse of their lives filling that room like warm, thick water I wanted to drown myself in.
Terric was in there. I could sense him like a clear beam of light in the dark shit hole of my life. Sure, I could consume all those people. Or I could consume him. He'd be better. Far better than the entire population of this city.
Then he'd be dead.
"You know what?" I said, pinching out the smoldering end of the cigarette with my fingers. Ouch. Yeah, even pain could feed my need, if necessary. "I'm done waiting. Let's go."
Eleanor pointed at the closed door to the meeting room, then tapped her wrist like she had a watch there. She didn't, but I got her point.
I hadn't waited very long for Terric.
"I'll leave him a note, all right?" I was already walking toward the elevator and she, of course, followed along.
When I'd first killed her, I could hear her. She had been angry, furious. But as time went on, it was harder and harder to hear her. Either that was how it always was for ghosts, or maybe it just took a hell of a lot of emotion to make words carry between the living and dead.
Charades usually got her point across, and even though it meant I talked out loud to myself like some kind of crazy, it worked.
Plus, it made people avoid me. So, win-win.
Didn't see anyone on the main floor.
Outside. Still too damn sunny and freezing. October sky was blue, but the air was bitch-cold. I flipped up my collar and strode up the block to Terric's car.
Pulled a piece of gum out of my pocket, chewed. Smoothed out the gum wrapper, pulled out a pen. Used the top of his hood to write _See U There_ on the gum wrapper, then spit out the chewed gum and stuck it and the note on his windshield, dead square in the middle of his field of vision.
"There," I said to Eleanor. "Note. Let's get moving."
Buses were a bad idea—too many people. Same for the light rail. I had enough money for a cab, but walking was good. The motion, the burning of calories, did a lot to satisfy my need to destroy, consume. But there was no way in hell I was walking clear across town.
I'd probably catch the MAX—light rail—on the other side of the bridge.
Forty, twenty-seven, three, sixteen. I counted the people in the shops I passed, could tell by their heartbeat if they were young, old, or really old.
Hardest to ignore were the young and old, both so close to one side of the grave. Easy pickings.
I shoved my hands harder down in my coat pockets and dug my nails into the weave of my pockets, tearing at the threads.
Could this day tick by any damn slower?
I needed to feed. And if not that, because fuck me if I was going to kill anyone today, I needed a damn drink. Several, actually. Something to take the hard light out of the day, and sand all the edges off the world.
I was about a block away from the bridge when the slick black Corvette rolled up and stopped just in front of me. I probably should have been paying attention, but survival hadn't really been my thing lately.
"Hey, you!"
I pulled my chin up out of my coat collar, and the world snapped down around me with all its clean, hard edges.
Situation: two guys in dark coats stepping out of the car. Driver built like a lumberjack, hair skinhead chic with a shaved lightning bolt, or maybe scar showing skin about three inches into his hairline above his right eyebrow. Unibrow, eyes set too close together, old acne scars.
Other guy was skin over bone. Goat face, long nose, eyes set too wide. Hair shaved up both sides left to fall in a greasy swatch over one eye. Half a hardware store worth of hooks pierced his ears, eyebrows, and down the left side of his neck.
I didn't know these jackasses. I kept walking.
"I'm talking to you," Driver yelled. Driver also started toward me with a swagger that made it look like he was an inch short in one leg.
I flipped him off.
He kept coming, and even though I shouldn't, I stopped. "What is your problem?" I said.
"You know a buddy of ours," Driver said.
"Doubt it. I don't hang out with assholes."
Driver smiled, showing a lot of gold on those teeth.
"Sure you do," he said. "Met him in an alley over on MLK this morning. Called the cops on him."
He must be talking about the ox. I wondered if these were the two men Terric had sent running.
"We don't like people who inconvenience our friends," Goat-face said. He had a slight lisp. He also had a baseball bat.
I held up one finger. "Time out. I didn't call the cops on that jackhole. I don't even know what they took him in for. Also, you really want to put that bat down, mate."
He did not put the bat down.
Eleanor was floating a few yards in front of me. She was shaking her head and waving her hands in very clear "no," "stop" gestures.
Right, like I was going to stand here and let them beat the crap out of me.
Driver stepped all up in my space, breathing garlic and beer over every word. "We are going to fuck you up."
His heart was thumping up in the heart attack levels. He was excited. Revved up. Alive.
"One last chance," I said evenly. "Walk away. I have no quarrel with you. You'll regret having a quarrel with me."
It made him pause. At least he had some sense of self-preservation. I am not joking when I say I look like death. And right now I was doing nothing to hide what I really was. I was trying in no way to look human.
The magic that had changed me was usually enough for people to know there was something terribly wrong with me.
Driver saw what I really was.
I gave him a slow nod. Permission to back away.
He took a step back.
But the other guy? Not so much with the smart. He'd come up on my right and swung the bat at my ribs.
I moved out of the way enough that it just clipped me. Which, yes, hurt like a bitch. Bruises, though I don't think anything cracked.
Unfortunately for the guy swinging the bat, I didn't need weapons in a fight. I am a weapon.
I rushed him and caught hold of his arm with my left, unringed hand. Stepped in close. "This is not your lucky day."
I squeezed his arm, my fingers curled over the veins beneath fabric, beneath skin. Easy to find that pulse, easy to drink that life.
Counted his heartbeat. Fast. Terrified.
Fear made it taste better. I hated it, hated that I wanted it. Hated even more that I liked it that way.
But the man was going beat me with a baseball bat. He had it coming.
I inhaled. Easy as breathing, I drew on his life.
He groaned and tried to pull away.
But I'd only had one little mouthful, barely a taste. I wanted more. Hell, I wanted his life, his buddy's life, and maybe the lives of all the people on this side of the river.
I licked my lips and then gave him a smile. "You will never cross my path again—understand me?"
His eyes went wide and he was sweating hard. He dropped the bat and it clattered against the street. He made a sound that never quite formed a word, but I took it as yes, he understood I'd kill him if he ever bothered me again.
Just to make sure, I drank down a little more of his days.
He slumped to his knees. Passed out.
A slap of ice punched my face. I blinked. I'd gone on my knees next to the guy. Couldn't seem to let go of his arm. Couldn't seem to let go of this meal I hadn't finished.
Like a goddamn brainless leech.
Eleanor was next to me, her hand cocked back in a fist. She was ranting off a list of filthy swearwords I could make out even without sound. Angry ghost.
I owed her for that. For being angry enough she had pulled me back from the brink. Again.
I rocked up onto my feet. Stood. The guy wasn't dead. But he'd feel like shit for a few days.
Okay, probably a few months.
I was feeling much, much better.
"What the hell did you do to him?" Driver yelled.
I bent, picked up the baseball bat. "What you need to know," I said, "is that I could have killed him, and I didn't. Just like I could have killed your friend in the alley this morning, and"—I lifted the bat, adjusted my grip on it— "I could kill you too. But I'm not going to. And you know why?"
I didn't wait for his answer. "Because I want you to scrape that piece of shit off the sidewalk." I pointed the bat at his friend. "And I want you to go back to whoever you work for and explain to them that I am not a person with whom to fuck. Understand?"
He nodded.
"Good. Now give me your keys."
He reached in his coat pocket and tossed them at me.
Huh. I'd expected him to argue over that one.
Cool. Free car.
I caught the keys and stepped over his friend on the way to the Vette. Kept the bat.
Got in, checked the rearview mirror to make sure Driver hadn't suffered a sudden case of bravery. Nope. He was crouched next to his friend, making sure he was breathing.
Me? Doing shit like that did one of two things: threw me into a self-hating bender, or bright-siding it, made me feel pretty damn good about not killing someone.
I was a man with a monster in my bones. And this time the monster had not won.
So, yeah, I felt pretty pleased with myself at the moment.
The car? Damn sweet ride.
I adjusted mirrors and seat and rolled out into traffic.
I'd lost my job, but I hated it anyway. I'd lost my grip on my hunger—twice. But I hadn't killed anyone today yet.
It was a low bar, but it felt good to hit it.
Also, now there was a definite chance I was going to beat Terric to the office. What wasn't to like about that?
# Chapter 5
Okay, a small detour.
The Corvette's navigation system was too tempting to ignore. Since it stored locations where those punks had been lately, I decided to give it a look.
I pulled down a side road, parked, and scrolled through the list: a couple out-of-state addresses, a few trips to the east and west side of the state. Then an address I knew very well.
Terric's house.
They knew where he lived. Which meant they either knew him or were keeping an eye on him. I didn't like either idea. A couple other addresses showed up on the list: someplace out in the West Hills, Allie and Zay's house, and the inn.
So those dicks who liked to settle arguments with a baseball bat were keeping an eye on all of us Soul Complements. Who were they working for?
Terric said the ox, Hamilton, might be involved with the girl killed by magic found up in Forest Park. If these guys were his friends, were they magic users? Murderers?
Probably would have been smart of me to ask Terric a few more details about the whole thing. Maybe then I'd understand why they were stalking members of the Authority.
What did they, or their boss, want?
I forwarded the last-visited addresses to my phone, which was back in my room, and did a quick search of the car for anything else that might tell me something about these guys. Nothing in the glove compartment, nothing in the trunk. I did find a black crow feather tucked beneath the visor. Not exactly useful.
Then I rubbed my fingerprints off the dashboard and everywhere else I'd been snooping. Time to hand this thing over to someone who might get some information out of it.
In under five minutes, I was strolling into the police department and wishing the cool, clean air from outside reached more than three feet into the stale funk of the place. But it didn't. It never did.
Detective Stott's real office was somewhere downstairs, but I didn't want to stay that long or get that cozy. Walked up to the first workstation at the end of the hall, knocked on the top of the desk. Waved at the security camera. Didn't have to wait long for a cop to show up.
"You still breathing, Flynn?" Cop was a huge dude from Hawaii, name of Mackanie Love. We'd met back in my petty crime days. He'd never cut me slack. But then, I hadn't deserved any.
"Once or twice a day, whether I need it or not. I have something for you." I held out my hand, the car keys hanging from my fingers, the baseball bat in the other.
He eased his bulk down into the chair and nodded at the keys. "What's that all about?"
I placed them on the desk. "Car about halfway down the block. Black Vette. It belongs to some people you might want to keep an eye on."
"Did you steal a car?"
"Please." I pressed my fingers against my chest. "You think I'd steal a car and just walk in here to turn myself in? I'd make you work for it, mate. You know that."
"So what's that really?" This time he pointed at the keys.
"Detective Stotts was pretty interested in a guy Terric tipped him off to this morning. Name of Hamilton. And those"—I nodded toward the keys—"belong to two other guys who didn't like Terric and me getting in the middle of their friend's business."
"Tell me you didn't steal a car from the Black Crane Syndicate."
"Okay."
He leaned back just a little, the chair creaking in protest. "You know what Black Crane is, yeah? Blood and drugs. Human trafficking. Dark magic."
Black Crane. A crime syndicate we'd kept under control when magic was strong, and that apparently continued to thrive off the magic and drug trade, even though magic didn't have the kick it used to.
"Sure, I know Black Crane." Oh! Crow feather. Suddenly made sense. "But I only borrowed their car. _Borrowed._ After they stopped me in the street to express their displeasure with me."
"Are they dead?"
"Not stupid enough to come in here if they were."
From the look on his face, he didn't think that was funny.
"Listen, I don't care what you do," I said. "Terric got me involved when he chased down Hamilton this morning. And, I'd like to point out, nobody told _him_ to mind his own business. But when two guys get out of their car and tell me they want to beat me senseless because _I'd_ gotten their friend arrested, I'm not going to stand there and take it."
"What did you do?"
"Left them reconsidering their manners beside the road. And brought you their car."
"You shouldn't have done that."
"What part?"
"Any of it. Don't you own a phone?"
"Not on me. Would you rather I had brought them here with me? Citizen's arrest?"
"No. I'd rather you stayed out of this, Shamus. From now on."
"That's what I've been trying to say. I am staying out of it. See you around, Detective."
I turned and strolled off, baseball bat over my shoulder.
"Flynn?" he called out. "Go see a doctor. You look like death warmed over."
He had no idea.
I just kept walking.
Fresh air and more sunlight. It wasn't far to the office. Fifteen or twenty minutes. If I walked fast enough, Eleanor might not even notice all the fancy shops we were passing by.
Keep walking. Keep walking. Dodge the man with the dog. Dodge the woman on her phone. Green light. Yellow. Sprint across the intersection. Almost clear of the shops. . . . no luck.
Eleanor went from drifting along to a dead stop. She got one look at a hat shop on the corner and clapped excitedly. I groaned.
"I promised Terric I'd be there," I whined.
She just raised her eyebrows. Yeah, telling her I didn't want to be late for work was not going to fly. She knew I didn't care.
"You can't even wear them."
She drifted toward the hat shop door. Got her max distance from me and waited, arms crossed.
"I don't wanna." I started toward her anyway. Living women: stubborn. Dead women: about a hundred times worse.
I walked to the front window, close enough she could go in the shop. She waved at me to follow her.
"No." I pulled out a cigarette and backed away from the door so the shop owners wouldn't call the cops on me for smoking. I lit up.
Glanced over. Eleanor stuck her tongue out at me, then slipped through the glass door into the hat shop.
I leaned my head against the brick and ignored everyone around me. Didn't care that they were alive. Didn't care that their pulse echoed in my skull like drums. Didn't care that my cigarette was out before I'd had more than two drags on it. Did. Not. Care.
Pushed the world into dimness, into fog. Away. So I didn't have to feel the life. So I didn't have to feel.
Cold fingers pressed on my fingers. Eleanor. I let the world back in.
Snap, click. Pow. Edges and beating hearts.
She pointed at her head, then at mine. Big grin on her face, all excited. Talking. Too fast for me to figure out what she was saying, not that I could hear any of it.
A few more gestures toward the shop, and finally I got the basic of it.
"No. Hell no. I do not want a hat."
I pushed off the wall and ignored her for the next five blocks.
She finally gave up floating in front of me with her hand in my face—sorry; that doesn't make me trip anymore—and flipped me off before window-shopping along behind me.
Building, up a flight of stairs, office: destination achieved.
Pushed through the second set of doors and past a short lobby that had four potted plants, all growing.
When had the place gotten so damn green? I pushed through the next set of doors, leaving two potted plants still growing.
Tall ceilings, lots of light coming in through windows, hardwood floors, shelves, and several desks. Modern, but unable to shake its past as a grain warehouse, it was expensive real estate the Beckstrom fortune had donated to the Authority back when Allie's dad was moving and shaking the world of magic.
Eleanor floated off and sat outside on the window ledge to pout.
There was exactly one heartbeat in the room besides mine.
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Dashiell Spade," I said to the man walking toward me with a file folder in his hand.
He was younger than me by a few years, about five eleven, dark hair combed back and up with just a bit of muss to it, black-rimmed glasses that didn't hide the fact that he had a face that had probably gotten him all the prom dates he could handle. Trim, dressed in a checkered long sleeve with a light sweater, slacks, and dress shoes. Northwest office chic.
Came in as our assistant three years ago. Looked like the poor guy hadn't found a way to break free. Wondered what kept him here.
"Shame! It's great to see you again. Coffee? Booze?"
"Yes, please."
"The whiskey's where you left it," he said. "I'll pour the coffee."
I pushed off to the desk where I used to sit. Corner of the room where I could see the doors and all the windows.
Everything was pretty much where I'd left it. Phone, computer, knife stabbed into a stack of notes. There were also three potted plants on the desk, two of which were some kind of vine that crawled up the brick wall into the rafters and across the windows.
Those I had not left there.
"So, how's life been treating you, Dash? I thought you'd have moved on by now."
"Things are good, thanks."
I crouched down and pulled the bottle out of the holster that kept it stuck beneath the top of the desk.
"We've missed you around here," he said. "Most people's long weekends don't last for months. Or years."
"Well." I stood, studied the bottle, which was nearly full. "I knew the place was in good hands. Terric, he's all right at what he does, I suppose."
Dash grinned and shook his head. "No one's cared more or worked harder than he has."
"Proving my point. And you are damn near the best secretary . . . administrative assistant?"
He handed me the cup of coffee. "Second. I'm Terric's second."
"So, that's a step up, right?"
He nodded. "I've left you a few messages lately."
"Oh?"
He glanced over at the door and frowned.
"Terric should be here soon," I said. "Out with it, lad."
He seemed to make up his mind. "Come on back to my office."
"You have an office?"
He just pointed toward one end of the large room that had been sectioned off into two with wooden walls and windows. The office on the right took up the majority of the room and lorded over the outer windows. That would probably be Terric's.
I, correctly, took the door to the left into the smaller office.
He stepped in behind me, and shut the door.
"You okay with this?" he asked.
"With what?" I gulped coffee and whiskey and savored the double burn. His heartbeat was steady, calm.
"Close quarters, all these plants, me living. That what."
He sat behind the desk and watched me, waiting. He had hazel eyes that were moss green with bits of brass in them. And those eyes were giving me a very knowing look.
Jesus. He knew. How much I wanted to consume. That I barely held it in check. I hadn't ever talked to him about it.
Well, maybe just that one time when I was really drunk.
"Want me to pinkie-swear I won't kill you, mate? Worried that I'll lose control of Death magic and squeeze the pulse out of your ticker?"
"No. You've got this. Your control is solid. Criminally so."
"Bless you. Talk."
"I try not to get into Terric's personal life. But there's something that I can't stay quiet about anymore. I"—he looked down at the desktop, suddenly interested in the calendar there that he pushed slightly to one side— "care for him." Eyes up again, steady on me. "As his second. We've worked together for a long time and he is—his health is important to me."
Lie. Well, not lie. More like truth pushing to be heard behind all those careful, yet oddly clumsy words. He cared for Terric as his boss, sure. And he cared for him a hell of a lot more than that.
Huh.
"Right," I said, letting the subtext go. "I know that. But if you're going to give me the lecture about how I should be around more because I make him feel better, Soul Complements, and blah-de-blah, don't bother."
"No." He shook his head. "You already know you should be. You'll change your mind, or you won't. It doesn't matter what I say about that. I'm talking about Jeremy Wilson."
"Who?"
"The man he's dating."
"Do I need to know about this?"
"I think Jeremy is hurting him."
Silence. I drank coffee. Not because I had nothing to say. A hurricane of words and rage ignited in my head, pounding to get out. If I said one thing, I'd be yelling. Incoherent. And then I'd kill.
Dash waited. Didn't make any sudden moves. Didn't breathe faster, didn't elevate his heart rate.
He was a smart man. A good man. He waited me out while I bitch-slapped my demons.
I took one last swallow of the coffee and set the empty cup down on the edge of his desk. The cup crumbled into a dusty pile of ceramic.
And . . . I had my cool back.
Dash's eyebrows ticked up. "Maybe I _should_ talk to you about that other thing."
I gave him a smile, shook my head. "I never liked that cup."
"Noted."
"Talk to me about Jeremy."
"He and Terric started dating about four months ago. Terric was . . . discreet about it. He tries to keep personal stuff away from work. But about six weeks ago, I came into the office early. Found Terric coming out of the bathroom without his shirt and shoes. He'd slept here most the night. He had burns down his arms—cigarette burns. His wrists were raw and his ribs were black and blue."
Ticked it off like a laundry list. No emotion. But his pupils dilated. Dash was pissed about this.
"Maybe he and the boyfriend like it rough," I said. "Terric can take care of himself."
"I know he can. And he did. By that afternoon, the burns and wrist scars were gone. He wore a T-shirt just so I'd notice. He has Life magic in his blood. He can use it to heal himself."
I hadn't thought of that. I supposed he could, though.
"I've seen him with a lot of men, and never seen a mark on him," Dash continued. "But every time he's with Jeremy, he comes in bruised or limping."
I shrugged. I just couldn't picture Terric willingly being abused. There must be more to it than that.
Dash leaned back a bit. "Shame, he can heal himself. And he does. I think Jeremy makes sure that no matter how fast he heals himself, he still walks away from their time together injured. And too tired to make himself better."
"Maybe he just—"
"Too tired to make himself better," Dash repeated, "because he's spent his energy, poured his life into Jeremy."
I took a breath, let it out. "Dash, you're a smart guy. But I think you're stretching this a bit."
"So I looked Jeremy up," he went on quietly like I'd never said a word. "Records are easy to get ahold of. He used to be into Blood magic. Ran money for some of the drug lords. Big syndicate."
Bet I could guess which one.
"No recent activity of that on his record now. Not since his diagnosis. Cancer, Shame. Brain. Stage three. He's dying. He's been dying for years. But in the last four months, he's gone into complete remission."
"Because of Terric," I said unnecessarily.
Dash pressed his lips together, then nodded. "I think so, yes."
"Okay. Fine. Listen, maybe it looks like a twisted sort of relationship to you"—I held up one finger at his expression—"and to me, but Terric is a grown man. He's made his choice and lives his life the way he wants. If he didn't like the guy, he'd walk away in a flat second. You've seen him go through boyfriends before."
"That's true. I have. Which is why I'm telling you, this guy is different. He's hurting Terric, and Terric's not doing anything about it. You know him, Shame. Better than I do. Does that sound like Terric?"
"No."
That was all I had time to say, because the exterior door opened.
Dash looked over my shoulder through the window to see who was coming into the office. I didn't have to look. I'd know that heart, that pulse, that life anywhere. Terric.
"You killed my ficus," he called out across the room.
I stood. Strolled out into the main office. "They were ugly."
"They were fragile. And hard to keep alive."
"Took care of that. You're welcome."
He dragged his fingers back through his platinum white hair, grabbing at the back of his head before letting go. "It's coming out of your paycheck."
"Don't bother. I don't work here anymore. Neither," I said, "do you."
"What?" Dash came into the room. "You quit?"
"No," Terric said. "I didn't quit. The Overseer has named a new Head of the Authority. Perfectly normal. The position should change hands every once in a while. Keeps things fresh." He gave Dash a small smile.
Dash swallowed several times, not doing a very good job of hiding that the news had shattered something inside him.
I watched Terric. He didn't seem to notice Dash was devastated that they wouldn't be working together anymore.
"But don't worry about your job," Terric said. "Clyde is taking our position, and he'll need a strong second to keep the continuity of everything flowing. You've always been the heart of this place, Dash. I'll hope you'll stay."
"I . . ." Dash looked down. When he looked back up, he'd pulled it together and didn't look shaken at all. "Of course. Of course I'll stay. Have you thought about what you're going to do next?"
"Pack," Terric said. "Take care of some paperwork. Get drunk."
"Singing my song, mate," I said. "Well, except for the packing and paperwork thing." I offered him the whiskey. He took the bottle, pulled the cork, and then tipped it up for a long, hard drink.
"Good," he said, gesturing toward me with the bottle. "Thanks."
He started off to his office. With my bottle.
"Just give me a minute or two, and I'll be right back out," he said.
Then he walked down the hall. With my bottle.
And shut the door. With my bottle.
Dash exhaled and folded down on a chair, his palms pressed evenly on his thighs. No more calm heart, his pulse was clattering. "Why?" he asked. "Why would the Overseer take this away from him? It meant . . . everything."
"Dash, buddy. It's going to be okay. Mommy and Daddy will still love you. They just can't come to work with you anymore."
"Fuck you, Shame."
Had a little fire behind that. Good. Fire meant I wasn't going to have to deal with tears.
"Honestly? It probably has more to do with me than him. I haven't been pulling my weight lately."
"Not everything is about you." Dash tugged his cuffs, checked the buttons to make sure they were buttoned. They were. Then he got back on his feet. "You want any help packing your desk?"
"Hell, let's just set fire to the thing. Nothing there I want."
"So I can have the knife?"
"No. Fine. Get the boxes, Boy Wonder."
Dash walked out and down the hall to the storeroom. I stood there for a bit, enjoying the aloneness. Except being this close to Terric meant I wasn't really alone. I wandered over to my desk. Then I found myself walking instead down to Terric's office.
I paused just before his door. I could see him through his office window. Sitting with his desk at his back, bottle resting on his thigh, other hand over his eyes, head bent.
I should probably just leave. Let him deal with this loss in private.
Terric lifted the bottle, but instead of drinking, he held it out toward me. Still had his hand over his eyes.
I opened his office door. Leaned there in the doorway.
"I don't want the booze," I said quietly.
"Yes, you do." He took his hand off his eyes and leaned back in his chair.
"Yeah, I do." I walked in, took it from his hand. It was a fair share lighter than it'd been just a few minutes ago.
Tipped it up, took a swallow. Booze went down hot, but the mouthwatering sweet of cinnamon and mint lingered on my lips. Life magic stirred the need in my belly. Terric had been drinking out of the bottle. I should have wiped it off before doing the same.
"I was good at this, Shame," Terric said. He wasn't looking at me.
I sat in the chair against the wall opposite his desk. "You're still good at this."
"We were amazing at it," he said.
"True."
He didn't say anything else. I took another swig of the whiskey. Ignored my disappointment that the taste of life was gone.
A couple minutes ticked by in silence.
"So, if you don't need anything," I started.
"Just." Terric turned, held my gaze. Blue eyes darkened by sorrow. "Would you shut up and sit here for a few minutes?"
I opened my mouth.
"Please."
I closed my mouth. Handed him the bottle. He took another drink and handed it back, swiveling his chair so he could stare out the window.
I watched him for a minute. Thought about things I could say. Thought about things I probably should have said a long time ago.
Decided to just do what he asked and kept quiet. I even remembered to wipe the taste of him off the bottle before I took another gulping swallow.
# Chapter 6
I left Terric in his office and took the half-empty bottle with me. Dash was moving around the office like a cleaning lady who wasn't sure what to dust first.
A pile of empty boxes towered next to my desk. Enough to pack away the room, Terric's office, and probably everything else on this floor of the building.
Lord.
"How about you give me a hand?" I said.
Dash walked over. "I wasn't sure how much you wanted to pack."
"I see that."
I gave Dash the whiskey and he turned to place it on a windowsill. Eleanor was back in the room again, and seemed interested in some of the art on the walls.
"No. Drink," I said. "You need to relax a little, mate."
"No, I don't."
"Fine, then _I_ need you to relax. A lot." I gave him a drink-up gesture and turned to the pile of boxes, chose one, and dropped it in front of my desk.
Listened for the cork, swish of liquid, then cork before I spoke again. "There was something else brought up at the meeting today."
I opened a drawer. So that's where I left my gun.
"What?" Dash leaned against the windowsill, his shadow stretching out over the boxes.
"Do you know what Soul Complements are?"
"Two people who are a perfect match when casting magic."
"Good. Anything else?"
"They're usually perfect matches in life too. Partners, friends, lovers. But it's incredibly rare to find that kind of match, especially with magic. Since being even a little unmatched can cause spells to destabilize and blow."
"Very good. How many are in Portland?"
"Just Zayvion and Allie." Pause. Quieter, "And you and Terric."
"Gold star." I glanced over my shoulder. He took another drink of the whiskey, then set it down on the far side of the windowsill, out of his easy reach.
"Why?" He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall.
"The government is suddenly all interested in Soul Complements and what they can do," I said.
"Break magic?"
I nodded. "Overseer is suggesting we get the hell out of town. Out of the country too. Thinks we're in a lot of danger."
He looked over at Terric's office. Worried.
Jesus. He didn't just like Terric. He was harboring much deeper feelings for him.
It was strange to see someone fall in love with a person you were connected to. I found the best way to deal with it was to ignore the hell out of it.
Drinking helped too.
"So you're saying you're leaving? He's leaving?" Dash asked.
"No, I'm saying we're going to make some choices. Or I assume we're going to. Terric is fussy about me making life-and-death decisions when he's involved."
"Is that why you came by today?" Still wasn't looking at me.
"I thought so."
The door to Terric's office opened and closed and then I heard his footsteps. Every plant in the room stirred as if a soft wind brushed over them. The damn things grew, vines snaking out half a foot in just a few seconds.
Someone wasn't keeping very good control of their Life magic. I wondered if Terric was drunk.
"Gentlemen," Terric said with a lift in his voice. "Let's leave the packing for later. I want lunch. Shame, you're coming with me even if I have to knock you out and drag you there. Dash, you're welcome to come if you want."
Not drunk yet. He still had his clothes on. Definitely buzzed, though. The day was looking up.
Dash pushed away from the wall and pressed his fingers down into his front pockets. "No, that's okay. I'll stay here and fill a couple of these boxes. See you later this afternoon?"
Terric nodded. "I should be back."
"Don't count on me," I said. "But don't pack the whiskey either."
"Wait. Terric?" Dash jogged toward his office. "I have a message for you."
He jogged right back with a folder in his hand. "There's been another missing person report that matches the others."
Terric took the folder, opened it. "He looks familiar. Shame?"
I took the folder. Printout of a missing person report. Paper-clipped to that was a photo of an older man, gray beard and hair, eyes nearly lost in the wrinkles from his smile.
"I've seen him," I said. "Don't remember where. And not recently."
"So we can rule out the bars and gutters," Terric said.
"Look who finally found his sense of humor," I said. "I'm thinking a while ago. Couple years. Was he part of the Authority?"
Terric took the folder back and glanced at the name. "Harry Schol. Doesn't ring a bell. Run his history through our records, will you, Dash?"
Dash took the folder. "Already on it. You two have a nice lunch."
"Oh, I'm sure it's going to be swell," Terric said, taking two tries to pluck his coat off the hook as he made his way to the door.
"We still have records the police can't access?" I asked Dash. "I thought there was a total transparency-of-records thing that went down a couple years ago."
"Well, there's transparency," Dash said with a tilt of the folder, "and there's the Authority." He nodded toward Terric.
I grinned. "Maybe things aren't all that different after all." I started off after Terric, caught up to him halfway down the hall.
"I think I should drive," I said.
"I'm fine." He aimed for the elevator button with exaggerated precision.
"Just the same, mate, hand over the keys."
The elevator door opened and we stepped in, Eleanor behind us.
"You've been drinking," he said.
"Sure. Three swallows. You tanked a third of that bottle. I drive, or you're going alone."
"Why is every conversation with you an argument?"
"Seems a waste of time, doesn't it? Especially since I'm always right."
He leaned one shoulder against the elevator wall, half turned toward me. "Like the time you said Victor was going to give up his place as Head of Faith magic? Or the time you bet Allie—Allie of all people—that you knew what Zayvion was thinking better than she did? Or the time when you bet me I could bring that fossil back to life? Or—"
"That," I interrupted, "is why every conversation is an argument. You just can't let things go."
"I _can_ let things go." He held my gaze, eyes sober and dark with unveiled pain. I looked away.
"I can't ignore facts," he went on. "Or the truth when it's right in front of me."
I stared at my shoes. "You should practice," I said quietly, ignoring the slow thud of his heartbeat. "It gets easier."
The door split and I couldn't get through it fast enough. I strode down to the front doors. Pulled sunglasses out of my pocket and got them over my eyes. Stepped out into the daylight.
Afternoon was rolling toward evening, the sun giving up the fight to clouds. City was in full swing now, plenty of people on the street.
So many beating hearts.
Enough that it took me a second to realize Terric was walking in the opposite direction than I was facing.
"...way, Shamus," he called back over his shoulder.
I swore, popped up the collar of my coat, not that it did much to block the living from my notice, but it usually signaled people to stay the hell out of my way.
He'd found street parking just half a block down, and was waiting by the passenger's side, one hand on the roof in both a possessive and steadying grip, keys in his other hand.
"If you scratch it, dent it, or grind one single gear, I will come over to your place every morning at five, steal your curtains, and sing ABBA at the top of my lungs."
"Hey, now," I said, taking the keys from him. "You don't have to be mean."
I unlocked doors and slid behind the driver's wheel. The car was clean as the day it'd been driven out of the factory, with only the scent of Terric's cologne indicating someone living owned the thing.
I wondered, not for the first time, how a person could go through life leaving such a faint mark on the things he possessed.
He folded down into the passenger seat, buckled his seat belt. "Not a scratch," he reminded me.
"Yeah, yeah," I said. "I heard you. Burgers?"
"Sushi."
"Fish and chips."
"Vegan."
"Over your dead body," I said. We were quiet while I eased out into traffic.
"Bar food so neither of us is happy?" I offered.
"That works."
I decided short drive was better than long, so I headed to Paddy's. We didn't say anything else until I parked in a loading zone and Terric had a fit about it. I finally relented and found a place a few blocks away.
Clouds threw gray across the sky, and the wind had picked up. Not as many people on the street here. By the time we reached the bar, I, for one, was glad for the heat of the place.
Terric found a table in the corner where the lighting was low enough I could take off my sunglasses. It was thoughtful of him.
Eleanor got busy checking what the other patrons in the bar were eating and drinking. She finally sat next to a good-looking man who was reading on a screen, and leaned forward just enough to read along with him.
The waitress, a curvy girl with a great smile, came around and took our beer orders. Terric also ordered shepherd's pie.
"Get food," he said.
"Not hungry."
"Yes, you are. He'll have the baby spinach and beet salad."
"Like hell he will."
The waitress raised her eyebrows, then reapplied her smile. "It's a good salad."
"Just bring me a burger. Rare. Lots of cheese. Fries."
"Good choice." She sauntered off.
"So," Terric said. "We're unemployed and being hunted. Got any ideas about that?"
"You're a graphic designer," I said. "So you've that to fall back on. Mum's inn brings in enough I can skim profits, and she doesn't care."
"I was talking about the hunted part. Price on our heads. Wanted by the government?"
I shrugged. "Let them want me. I'm not worried."
He leaned forward, the Void stone necklace swinging outward just a bit before it settled again against his pale gray dress shirt, and regarded me with a look that was too kind for the sort of hell he'd been through in his life. "You won't even consider relocating? There's nothing holding you here, Shame."
"Sure there is."
"What? Name one thing that ties you down to Portland."
Was that a dare? Did he want me to say it was him? Us? Soul Complements and magic?
"I have a better idea," I said, picking apart the side of the wooden table with my thumbnail. "You just tell me what you want to do, since that's why we're really talking, right?"
He inhaled, exhaled, eyes tightening slightly. Annoyed.
"I get that you don't fear death," he said. The waitress showed up, set our beers out for us. Mine: dark. His: dark. Huh. I wondered when he'd switched over from the light brews.
"And I know you don't care if someone tries to kill you," he continued once she had moved on. "But this isn't a street brawl, Shame. This isn't even a magic user after you. This is the government. Bullets are faster than magic. Even our magic. The government has resources and reach you can't escape."
"Who says I want to escape?" I said cheerfully. I picked up my beer, swallowed some down. Damn fine. Set it back on the table. "It does sound like fun, doesn't it? Being chased. Wanted man. Final showdown."
He leaned back and gave me a courtroom stare. No more happy in those eyes. No more kindness. "Ever think that maybe they don't want to kill you, Shame? Ever think that maybe they have ways to force you to stay alive? Ways to force you to do what they want you to do?"
"That someone might want to use me, use this thing inside me? Sure," I said. "I think about it every damn minute. What happens if I lose control. What happens if someone else tries to control this." I lifted my fingers just a bit and the rings across my right knuckles crackled with sparks of red.
"There isn't anything out there that scares me anymore, Terric. Not the big bad government, not the big bad Authority. Not life. Not death."
He took a drink of his beer, set it down, and turned it slowly with just the tips of his fingers clearing away the condensation. Didn't look at me. "Three out of four, anyway."
"How's that?"
Took another drink. Looked at me this time.
"I believe three out of four of those. You might not be afraid of the government or the Authority, or death. But life? I think life scares the crap out of you, Shame Flynn. Why else have you been running and hiding from it for almost two years?"
I just shook my head and drank my beer.
I hated when he was right.
Terric's phone rang. Which was just as well. I was done with this conversation years ago.
The waitress showed up with our plates. I gave her a hey-baby smile and a thank-you.
When I looked back over at Terric he was frowning at his phone and texting.
I took a huge bite of the burger and groaned with joy. I felt like I hadn't eaten in days. Did a quick count in my head.
Yep. Days.
Terric didn't touch his food. He hit SEND on the text, then wrapped his fingers around his beer and stared at the table.
"More bad news?" I asked.
"No." He lifted his fork and dug at his food before putting a bite in his mouth.
I worked my way through half the burger. Watched Terric rearranging the food on his plate.
"What was that text?" I asked.
"Personal."
"And?"
"Do you really want to know what's going on in my personal life?"
"Well, no. Not really. But that text made you stop talking. And I am always interested in ways of accomplishing that."
Faint smile. He sat back, fork left behind in the mashed potatoes. "I'm dating someone."
"Uh-huh." I drank beer to wash down salt and grease.
He was watching me. Waiting.
"Terric, you always have a boyfriend. Don't care." Half the burger down, half to go. I took another bite.
"That was him on the phone." Shrug.
"You like him?" I asked.
His eyes skittered away from mine. "Most of the time." Eyes back on me again. Smile that faded too quickly.
I moved on to the pile of french fries. "And the rest of the time?"
"It's complicated."
I ate for a bit, wiped my fingertips on the napkin, then finished my beer.
Terric still wasn't eating. Wasn't looking at me either.
"Here's what I think," I started.
"Didn't ask for your opinion."
"I think when you date guys you like, you smile a lot. You talk about them a lot. And when you talk about them, you don't lose your appetite."
"Your point?"
"You haven't even told me his name, and for a guy who insisted I go out to lunch because _you_ were hungry . . ." I pointed at his nearly untouched plate, then pointed at mine.
Terric shook his head, then leaned off the back of his chair and took a couple bites.
I flagged the waitress for another round of beers and finished the rest of my lunch. My gut was killing me. I think that was more than I'd eaten in a week.
"Maybe it's time to move on," I said.
"Which subject are we on now?"
"Boyfriend. Maybe you got what you wanted, and it's time to move on."
"He has cancer, Shame."
"That's not your fault."
Terric shook his head again. This time there was some fire in his eyes. "You might not give a damn about people, Shame, but I do."
"No. What I care about doesn't matter," I said. "I'm just telling you what you already know. Guilt is a stupid reason to remain in a bad situation."
"Are you done?"
"Yes."
"Good. So what do you want to do?"
"About your boyfriend?" I asked.
"No. Being hunted."
The waitress showed up with our beers and I took a long pull before answering, "Fuck all if I know. Stay here. Watch things blow up. Or make things blow up. Do you know what Zay and Allie are doing?"
"Staying. For now. But they're making . . . other plans."
"Like?"
He shook his head. "You should talk to them. They should be the ones who tell you."
"Tell me what?"
"Nope. New subject: Who's the redhead following you?"
I sat back a bit. Impressed. I didn't think he'd noticed. "Redhead?"
"You're not blind. You've seen her."
"I have no idea. And you didn't answer me," I said.
"About?"
"If you're staying."
"With Jeremy?"
"Is that his name? Also, no. In Portland."
"It makes more sense for me to leave."
"That's not an answer."
"Yes," he said.
"Yes, it's an answer?"
"Yes, I'm going to stay. Also, yes. It's an answer."
"I forget how much I don't miss this," I said.
"What?"
"Talking with you."
"Nice try," he said. "You love it. Because there's no one who knows you as well as I do."
"Zay knows me."
"I don't see you having lunch with him."
"So you're really staying?"
He tipped his head down just enough that his hair fell over his eyes a bit. He gave me a predatory smile. "Someone has to keep an eye on you."
"Me?" I grinned. "I'm not the one causing trouble in this town."
"No, but you'll be right in the middle of it when it happens. You can't resist."
"Trouble?"
"Danger."
I waved my hand dismissively. "I got no stake in this game, mate."
"Yes, you do."
He was right. I did. For one thing, I cared about what happened to Zay and Allie. And my other friends like Dash, and Clyde, and some of the people who worked at my mum's inn. But that's not was Terric was getting at.
He meant him.
"You mean you," I said.
"I mean me. You're worried about me."
"Please."
"You asked me about my boyfriend. My _boyfriend_ , __ Shame. You never ask me about my relationships."
I opened my mouth, closed it. Sat back. Scowled. And flagged the waitress.
"Leaving?" he asked.
"Drinking. More than beer. And so are you. Because I am done with the talking. And so are you."
He grinned. "Not even close."
# Chapter 7
A thing I don't tell a lot of people: Terric is hilarious drunk.
Mostly because as the drinks go down, his clothes come off. It usually starts with the shoes, then socks, belt, and shirt. Sometimes it goes a lot further than that. I'd bailed him out of jail once for indecent exposure. I've never let him live it down either.
So, yes. I was thinking about seeing how many layers he was going to shed here in a very public pub, but he'd only taken off his shoes and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt before his phone rang. Again.
He'd ignored it twice already.
"You going to get that?" I asked.
The waitress had cleared the food from our table, and now five shot glasses were lined up, neat as socks in a drawer, in front of Terric.
He downed the sixth and carefully set it in place at the back of the line like a good little soldier.
"It's Jeremy."
"Right," I said, toying with my third shot that wasn't even half-empty yet. Another thing I don't tell people: when Terric drinks, I just . . . don't as much. Seems like one of us should be sober in any given situation.
"Your boyfriend wants to talk to you, mate."
Terric looked off over my shoulder, pretending he hadn't heard what I'd just said. But his heartbeat sped up, and I could see his eyes dilate. Fear? Lust? I sipped my whiskey and waited.
"He's picking me up," he said. "Here."
"Is that a problem?"
He wiped his hand over his eyes. When he took his hand away, his eyes were still closed. He set the fingers of both hands one-at-a-time precisely on the tabletop, as if ready to play a piano.
"I can feel your heartbeat, Shame." He said it almost too quietly for me to hear over the noise in the bar. But his finger was tapping the tabletop. Tapping in exact rhythm to my pulse.
"I can feel all their heartbeats. I can tell who is healthy, who is sick. Who is dying. I can feel their time ticking away under my skin. It burns there with every beat of their heart. And sometimes, some days, I can't keep the magic from spreading out to swallow them. Life magic heals, mends, fixes." He nodded, his fingers tapping, tapping.
"But when I lose control of it, it makes anything grow, accelerate, thrive. Even disease. Even sickness. The living are made stronger, but the dying are accelerated, burned out like old candles. If I refuse to use Life magic, it consumes . . . me. I drown in it, lose my thoughts, my reason. My mind."
He opened his eyes. Maybe realized those words were coming out of his mouth. Maybe realized who he was talking to and where he was.
I wondered if he'd given up trying to explain to people what it was like to die and come back with magic having changed you. Changed your body. Changed your blood. Changed your needs. I'd stopped trying to explain it years ago.
Let them think I was a burnout. A loser. A slacker.
I guess Terric let them believe he was a success. A winner. A hero.
It didn't matter. There wasn't anything to do to fix what we really were. What we both had become: monsters.
Most people did not want to be reminded of how dangerous we were.
But I rarely heard Terric's fight with Life magic. He never spoke to me about it. Just like I didn't talk to him about Death magic. I had no idea what it was like to be driven by Life magic. I had no idea what it demanded of him. What it made him do. How it wore him down. How he coped.
"Life magic devours?" I said. "I thought that was Death magic's trick."
"Life magic infiltrates, overtakes, possesses. Makes everything grow: plants, people." A long pause. "Diseases, sickness." He tipped his head, licked his lips as if remembering the taste of each of those things. "Everything I touch I change. Everything that I touch I force to change."
"You know there's a price for letting magic use you like that."
He nodded once. His eyes were too sober for how much whiskey he'd been drinking. "My life. My . . ." He looked at a loss for words. So I gave them to him.
"Your humanity," I said.
I didn't think he'd ever believed me when I said that before. But this time he did.
"When I let go. When I relax, when I just let go and breathe . . ." He stopped talking. Just stared at me.
"It takes over," I said.
"I become the monster. The magic. I become the hunger. And I don't want to stop."
"Ain't life grand?" I threw back the remainder of my shot.
"I've made some bad choices," he said. "I've done some horrible things. When I just breathe . . ." He licked his lips. "I've extended . . . suffering. Hospitals are bad. Nursing homes, worse."
"Good," I said.
That startled him, but I wasn't done.
"No, as a matter of fact: thank God. Perfect Terric was really getting on my nerves. It's good to know you can fuck up like the rest of us lowly humans."
"Is that what we are? Human?"
"Until the day the monster kills us," I said. "Or we kill it."
He smiled a little. "Careful. That almost sounded like optimism."
"It's the whiskey talking."
His phone rang again. He didn't look at it. Fingers dug harder at the tabletop.
A car horn blared. Paused. Blared again.
"That your friend?" I asked.
Terric took a deep breath, pulled his hands away from the table, then worked on putting his shoes and humanity back on. "Yes."
He stood, pulled out his wallet and threw some twenties on the table. "Thanks. For this. I'd like to see you at the office again tomorrow. Think you can do that?"
"When have I ever let you down?"
He raised an eyebrow. The horn blared again, taking away his reply.
"Night, Shamus."
He took a step, reassessed his balance, seemed to pull it together, then started toward the door with a steady gait.
I got up and followed.
"I'm not that drunk," he said. "You don't have to follow me."
"I'm not," I lied. "Gotta piss. Bathroom's this way."
He didn't argue, not even when instead of turning left to the bathroom, I leaned against the wall near the door. Watched him step out. Waited a minute. Opened the door.
Terric ducked into a Jeep.
The man in the driver's seat, who I assumed was Jeremy, looked familiar. Short hair, narrow face, and when he shifted so I could see him better, I knew where I'd crossed paths with him before. He was the guy leaving the scene at the alley this morning who pointed at me like he was holding a gun.
What a douche.
Looked like he was reading Terric the riot act.
I was suddenly falling in hate with the guy.
Terric paused in pulling the seat belt over his chest, the door still open. Since his body was turned away from me, I had no clue what he said. But I saw Jeremy's face change. He shut up. His eyes narrowed. And his heart beat harder. Anger.
Then he looked up at me. Saw I was watching them.
His anger screwed down to tight, red fury.
Oh, that man did not like me. Poor bastard.
I crossed my arms over my chest and made a kissing motion.
He bit off one cussword and looked away.
Yes, I was enjoying this.
"Think I should stop that now?" I asked Eleanor, who had spent most of the last couple hours sitting with different people at the pub and eavesdropping.
She nodded.
Terric shut the car door and the Jeep rolled down the street.
"Too late," I said. "You should really speak up when you have an opinion."
Eleanor stuck her fingers into the side of my neck. Ice picks chilled all the way down my spine. "Jesus, woman. A little humor would be nice."
I rubbed at my neck and stepped back into the pub.
As soon as I was in the main room, I was once again reminded that when I am around Terric, the need to devour and consume life is lessened. Yin/yang, Soul Complements, life/death, and all that. We canceled each other out some when we were in the same general proximity.
Now that he was gone, a tight ball of rage knotted like a fist in the middle of my chest. Death magic was hungry.
Maybe it was time to settle the bill and get the hell away from this place. Away from all these lovely living people.
While we'd been talking, day had stumbled into night. The pub was filled to the walls. I made my way between people standing and yelling to be heard over the noise of the place, and paused by the table.
A woman was lounging in Terric's seat, arm over the back of the chair, ankle resting on her knee. Knockout pretty. Blue eyes like clear mountain skies, and a soft, full mouth. Her hair spilled down to her shoulders in waves, framing the porcelain white of her skin. Slender build in a tight T-shirt and jeans. My heart, which had been missing for years, kicked over and began beating for the first time.
It wasn't a come-hither gaze she was holding me with—just an even stare with a glimmer of mischief—but it might as well have been.
I didn't know her, but I recognized her. Last time I'd seen her, she had a sniper's rifle in her hands.
"Buy you a drink?" she asked.
I could say no, but there was fresh shot of whiskey already next to my three empty shot glasses. She had a drink too, an Old-Fashioned. All the money Terric had left behind was right where he'd tossed it.
Eleanor was shaking her head and doing some kind of football signal for missed goal.
But there was something about this woman that made me want to say yes for a change. I tugged the chair away from the table and sat.
"So. Is this your first time in Portland?" I asked.
She smiled a bit. "Why? Does it show?"
"Not at all. Visiting friends? Enemies?"
"I'm still undecided on that. My name's Dessa."
"I'm Shamus."
"I know."
I grinned. "Wondered if we were going to dance around that or not. Are you going to tell me why you want me dead?"
She caught her breath. Then leaned forward just a bit. "Did I say I wanted you dead, Mr. Flynn?"
"No. But that rifle on the rooftop? Kind of a giveaway."
She took a drink to cover her surprise. Huh. So she didn't think I'd spotted her. I guess I had the slacker/loser/oblivious-of-the-world act down pretty tight.
"You're still breathing, though, aren't you?"
"Apparently," I said. "Why is that, exactly?"
"I don't want you dead yet."
"Comforting. What do you want?"
"A little time."
A young couple were making their way through the crowd toward the door. The woman was carrying a baby. Just before she got to our table, she sidestepped a man taking off his coat, and a little stuffed toy tumbled to the floor.
Dessa glanced over, spotted the lost toy, saw the woman and baby moving on. She glanced at me, then at the woman's retreating back.
These kinds of situations were always telling. A woman on the prowl would ignore the whole thing. A woman on a job to get information would ignore it too.
And Dessa . . .
"Hold on." She stepped out and picked up the toy—a purple turtle—then caught up with the couple and handed it to the thankful mother. She even took a minute to smile at the baby before noticing I was watching her, and walking back my way.
Looked like my assassin had a heart.
"Do you always rescue things in need?" I asked as she sat back down.
She shrugged. "Only when I find them lost and alone in bars."
Touché.
"So you wanted time," I said.
"Yes. I want to make you a deal."
"What kind of deal?"
"You help me, I help you."
"Go on."
"I'm looking for a man. A magic user. I want you to help me find him. And kill him."
Matter-of-fact. Clear. To the point. But her tone had gone too careful. Too even. Hiding her heartbeat, the race of adrenaline. She didn't just want the man dead, she wanted revenge.
"What did he do to you?"
"He killed my brother."
I let that settle between us. "I'm not an assassin," I said.
"You could be."
"I could be a lot of things. Have you tried the right side of the law?"
"Do you think there is a right side?" She paused for a minute, stirring the ice in her drink.
I just wanted to watch her eyes, her mouth, the way she pushed her hair back so the side of her neck was bare. Thoughts I hadn't had in a long time stretched out in me.
"I've been . . . involved in that side of the law," she said. "I've even worked for that side of the law. And I know my brother's killer won't ever be put in jail."
"Why?"
"He has protection. Government protection."
"What are they protecting him from? You?"
She smiled again, and I glanced away so I wouldn't be caught by the warmth of it. "No."
"Look," I said. "I'm flattered. But there just isn't anything in this for me. I'm not seeing why I should get involved."
"I'll help you with your problem." She took another drink and waited.
"And what, exactly," I said, leaning forward so that our hands nearly brushed, "do you think my problem is?"
She swallowed and had to look away before she could hold my gaze again. "I have information about the government and Soul Complements. Names of the people involved. Information that can keep you alive."
"You assume I want to stay alive. Maybe you've got me wrong."
The corner of her mouth pulled up and she tipped her head so that a curl of hair slid gently across her cheek and neck. Red against white, like blood on snow.
I clenched my fingers so I didn't reach up and draw her hair back into place.
"If death is what you want," she said, "I can give you that too. It will be fast. It will be clean, and it will be glorious."
She had my full, unbroken attention.
She was not kidding. Her iceberg blue eyes were as steady as if she were looking at me through a sniper's scope, finger on the trigger. No emotion. Just the sweet promise of death.
Would it be wrong of me to think that at that moment, she was the sexiest woman I'd ever seen?
Here's the thing. I knew what my future would be. No matter how I cut it, death, my death, was always the card on top. I'd always figured Zayvion would be the one to pull the trigger. But I hated what it would do to him and Allie. They'd carry the guilt of my death for the rest of their life. Because they are like that.
But here, now, this woman—this gorgeous and, yes, kind woman—was a solution I hadn't considered. I could make a deal with her, and she could make my death look like an accident. No one would carry the guilt. Not Zay, not Allie, not Terric, not my mum. No one would have to know the truth.
"Glorious, eh?" I asked.
"Unforgettable."
"How about accidental?"
"It can be arranged."
"So you're offering my life—or my death—if I help you find a guy and kill him."
"That's the deal."
Tempting. Dangerously so.
I leaned back, lacing my fingers together just behind the shot she'd bought me that I still hadn't touched.
"Why can't you kill him? I'll buy that you might need help finding someone. It's less likely you think I'm the one who can track him down—plenty of better trackers in this town. But what I'm really having a hard time believing is that you need help killing. Anyone."
"He's different."
"How?"
She shook her head. "You agree to help, I tell you. You don't, then I'm gone."
I thought it over. Several things made this seem like a good idea. One: she was hot and had stirred feelings, and a need, I hadn't had in a long, long time. Two: she had information that might keep Terric, Zay, Allie, and the rest of the Soul Complements safe. Which meant it was possible she either worked for the government or worked against them. Three: did I mention she was hot? Four: that kill-you thing she offered was a pretty sweet way to deal with my ultimate dilemma—my problem, as she called it.
It would, however, be insane to commit to a revenge that I didn't give a damn about.
It would not, on the other hand, be the most insane thing I'd ever done.
"No," I said.
It surprised her and she didn't bother to cover it up. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Yes, I am."
She pulled her hair back with both hands and let it cascade back into place. "We would have made a hell of a team," she said.
"Undoubtedly."
"Was it the glorious death that turned you off?"
"No. I thought that was a nice touch."
She smiled. "Well, then. To happy endings." She held up her drink and I picked up the shot.
Touched the edge of my glass to hers. "To endings, happy or otherwise."
She nodded, then took a long drink.
I slammed back the whiskey, enjoying every moment of the burn. I only wished it were enough to put out the fire she'd started in me.
A slightly sweet aftertaste coated my throat. I wondered which brand she'd ordered.
"Now that business is out of the way, care to stay for a couple drinks?" I asked.
"Maybe. What do you have in mind?"
"I thought I'd unpack my boyish charms and try my hand at seducing you."
And the smile she gave me.
It lit up her face. She was, I realized, the kind of woman who knew how to laugh. Who was probably gentle to small animals, and kind to old people. Behind her mask, she was vibrant. Alive.
I wanted that.
"First," she said, "don't tell a woman you're going to try to seduce her."
"Oh, I don't think that's fair. Relationships are much more fun when . . ." The pub spun to the left and I braced my hand on the table edge so I didn't slap it with my face.
"That's not right," I mumbled.
Dessa leaned forward. "Second, don't accept drinks from strange women."
"What?"
"Well, look at that," she said. "Your boyish charms are working. I'm just all wobbly in the knees and so are you. Why don't you come home with me, kitten?"
"Kitten?"
And before I could make any damn sense of that, she was next to me, then standing with me. Her arm was surprisingly strong around my waist, and I wanted like mad to pull her into me. But the pub was coming in and out of focus as I blinked, and the only thing that convinced me I was walking was that the place was moving past me.
"Spiked my drink," I said.
Now we were standing outside.
"Yes, I did."
"Naughty girl."
She sighed. We were moving again. Around the corner. "I am sorry about this. You could have just agreed. It would have been easier."
"You knew I wouldn't. Otherwise why spike the shot?"
"I wasn't sure I could be convincing enough. One thing you need to know about me, Shamus Flynn? I never give up."
I would have told her the one thing she should know about me is I never do things the easy way, but the world was a blender of light and darkness. I didn't know what she'd dropped in my drink, but it was not a drug or magic I was familiar with.
That worried me.
Could I use magic to get myself out of this? Sure, if I could concentrate long enough to trace the glyph of a spell.
So: no.
Could I just drain down her life?
Strangely, and really, most frighteningly of all, I couldn't even think straight enough to do that. That drink had pushed magic—even Death magic—way out of my reach.
"Here we are," she said. "You can just relax. Lie down. Let me take care of everything."
"I don't even know your last name," I mumbled. I thought she was easing me into the back of her car. I was pretty sure I heard a car door open.
But I'd gotten that wrong too.
She'd popped the trunk. And gave me a shove down into it.
"You have got to be kidding me," I laughed as the world spun and shook.
"No. I am completely serious about this. Deadly, even."
She leaned above me, her lips slightly open as she adjusted something near my head. And all I could think of was I should kiss that woman.
What can I say? I like a woman who can surprise me. She'd certainly done that.
Too bad I couldn't move.
"You should be comfortable," she was saying. "And don't even think about using magic. It won't work."
Too late. I was already thinking about it. But that was about all I was doing. Because the lumpiness I was lying on wasn't the spare tire and crowbar. It was Void stones. As a matter of fact, the entire trunk was lined with them, completely canceling my ability to draw on magic.
The woman knew how to plan ahead. I wondered if she'd lined the top of the trunk too.
"I'd tell you to get some sleep," she said. "But this is going to be a bumpy ride, so just try not to get a concussion."
As the trunk slammed shut, I noted that yes indeed. The inside of the lid was lined with Void stones too.
Damn. I really should have kissed her.
# Chapter 8
Here's where I act the hero and do something smart, like call someone. Or do something brave, like kick out the trunk. Or come up with a sneaky plan, like find the biggest Void stone so I could brain the bitch.
Instead I got nauseated and unconscious. In that order.
I came to no longer in the trunk. I had no memory of walking or of her dragging me. But somehow she had managed to get me into a motel room and strap me down to a chair.
This was so not how I had imagined spending the night with her. Well, not the first night, anyway.
She was pacing. It was the _thump, thump_ of her flat bootheels on the carpet that had brought me awake.
_Thump, thump_ , pause.
"You are a very bad girl," I said. It came out a little ragged. Whatever she'd poisoned me with had done some damage to my throat on the way down.
"You do make me want to do bad things to you." Her fingers drew across my shoulders and even though I was still clothed, I felt it like a lick of heat that made me shudder with need.
No fair. Focus, Flynn. She doesn't mean _those_ kinds of bad things.
"Aren't you the sweetest?" I said. "How about you give a guy back some feeling in his hands?"
She finally walked around from behind me.
She was wearing a red satin bra and panties. And her combat boots.
And nothing else.
Well, a smile.
Holy shit. Maybe she did mean those kinds of bad things.
Please let her mean those bad things.
She turned so I could get a good look at her ass too. Lordy. Someone spent time in the gym. Or chasing after her brother's killer. I hear revenge is a great full-body workout.
She turned back to me. With guns in her hands.
"There's some mixed signals," I said.
"This," she said, "is to get your attention. How am I doing so far?" She bent at the waist so I got a good eyeful of her guns.
She pressed her hands on her hips. Had a Glock in each hand.
I wasn't sure which guns I was supposed to be looking at.
I gave her my best Flynn smile. "I like where this is going."
She straightened and I made an effort to pull my gaze up from her panties, her flat stomach, the birthmark just over her hipbone, the curve of breasts, and all the way up to those merciless blues. Got lost in the blues for a moment or two.
"Good," she said. "Because I'm just getting started. Are you fully awake, Shamus?"
"How about you untie me so we can find out?"
She shook her head, walked across the room to a crappy table there, with an even crappier chair. Wood. Scuffed legs, no padding. Probably matched the one I was sitting on.
She lifted it, walked toward me.
"I'm going to try this one more time," she said. "Talking you into seeing things my way."
She turned the chair so that the back of it was toward me.
"I asked nice last time. This time I'm not going to ask so very nicely." She spread her legs and straddled the chair.
Mercy.
Everything went white noise for a moment or two while I did what I could to put out the fire in my groin.
Don't think of her mouth. Don't think of her breasts. Don't think of her thighs.
"...heard stories about the great Shamus Flynn," she was saying.
"All true," I interrupted. I had no idea what she was talking about.
"Good," she said. "Because I heard you killed Jingo Jingo, one of the strongest Death magic users around at the fight in St. Johns. And you single-handedly devoured six professional magic users—drained them down so there weren't even bodies to bury. Then you took on two dead Soul Complements who tried to end the world. You came out of all of that still standing and were made into the head of the magic users in Portland."
Okay, now she was getting specific. These were things that were only known to the Authority. Maybe she'd dug through some top secret files the FBI or CIA had set up after the apocalypse to try to make sense of the whole ancient organization of secret magic users that had been operating under their noses since before they had noses.
But what she most certainly had not done was get access to this information in any easy or legal manner.
"Who do you work for again?" I asked.
"Now, now," she said. "That wouldn't be any fun. First you tell me a little something I want to know. Then I'll tell you something you want."
Her hand slipped up her thigh, stopping just short of her hip. She licked her bottom lip and smiled.
She was so playing me.
I loved it.
However, the rope she'd tied me up with was weighted down with Void stones. While that would make it harder for me to use magic, I could still get out of the ropes if I wanted to. But I didn't want to—yet.
"Who killed your brother?" I asked.
She raised one eyebrow and leaned forward into the back of the chair. Jesus, I wanted to be that chair.
"Tell me if you're as deadly as they say you are, Shame. Prove to me all those rumors are true. Better yet . . . show me."
Really? That's what she wanted to know about me? If I could kill people?
Fine.
I relaxed my hold against the darkness inside me. Let my hunger stretch out and breathe. Brought the monster front and center.
I tipped my head just a bit. Caught her gaze. And held it until her smile dropped away. Held it until she shifted her grip on the Glocks. Held it until she instinctively turned the guns on me, stood up, and stepped back.
"What I am," I said, "is much, much worse than anything anyone has ever told you, love."
In the next several heartbeats I learned that Dessa knew fear. And I learned how she handled it: heartbeat elevated, hands steady on the guns. Taking the time to make a decision.
Who wouldn't shoot the monster if they had it tied up in front of them?
I braced for the bullet I knew was coming my way.
Instead she pushed the chair to one side. Knelt in front of me, then pressed up between my legs, her guns on the floor.
Oh. God.
"I think you're lying." And then she kissed me. Kissed me with all her body.
Every inch of me flared at that touch, burning hot and hard.
I let her kiss me, her mouth soft and hungry. And then I kissed her back, coaxing her mouth open, until she relented and let me taste her fully.
Slow. Deep. I savored the taste of her mouth—alcohol, and the sweet of oranges. Felt the low groan in her throat. She exhaled and her body melted into mine.
My hands were still tied. Her hands slid up my chest to the edge of my jaw. Her fingers drew across the stubble of my beard and then back, to knot behind my head and tug at my hair. She dragged my face closer, her fist in my hair.
My turn to groan.
We kissed, hot, wet. I couldn't think. Didn't want to.
Yes. God, yes.
The hunger inside me was not Death. Had nothing to do with magic. I wanted to taste every inch of her. Wanted to kiss her until she shuddered in my arms.
I tugged on the ropes. The chair creaked.
Dessa suddenly pulled back and rocked up onto her feet, eyes wide, lips plump and wet, her lipstick smudged.
Lord.
Her fingers flew to her neck, then her arms, brushing over them as if assuring herself she was still whole.
I wasn't the only one wondering if I'd survived that contact. I wasn't the only one breathing a little harder.
Her pale skin was scorched red across her chest and cheeks, hot with arousal. If my hands were free, she wouldn't be standing alone right now. She'd be in my arms, in that bed.
"You could have killed me just then," she said with a catch in her breath.
It took me a minute to reply. Finally, "You're the one with the gun." It came out slow, low, and I watched her pupils dilate in response.
"But you could have killed me," she said softly. "Drunk down my life."
There was no reason to deny it. "Yes."
She licked her bottom lip, and I blinked slowly, unable to look away.
"I need you, Shamus. You are the man I've been looking for."
There was something about the way she said it that made me think she wasn't talking about sex.
"How about you untie me, then?"
She drew her fingers through her hair, pulling the stray locks of it away from her face. Her heartbeat was still elevated. She swallowed and took a few more steps away from me as if space would cool the heat between us. "First," she said, "I want you to name your price."
"For?"
"Helping me find my brother's killer. I can't . . . do anything else with my life until that happens, Shame." She studied my lips with a soft longing as she said it, then stared into my eyes. Her cool blues darkened with need. "Just help me find him, and if I can convince you that he deserves to die, help me kill him."
"And then?"
"You can name your price. Tell me what you want."
"I don't kill people for sex."
Yet.
She shook her head. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just . . . I didn't realize what you are . . ." She licked her lips and stared at my mouth again, then my eyes. "How very good you are. You tell me what you want in exchange, and I'll do it."
Jesus, I was going to explode.
Eleanor drifted into my line of sight. I had completely forgotten about her. She floated up behind Dessa and put her hand on her shoulder.
"Don't," I warned her.
Dessa frowned, and a roll of goose pimples pricked across her skin. Eleanor's touch was grave-cold.
"Don't?" Dessa asked.
Before I could answer her, Eleanor was floating between us. Ghosts can occupy the same space as people, so even though you couldn't have fit a first grader between Dessa and me, Eleanor hovered there just fine.
Eleanor lowered her hand toward my crotch and raised one eyebrow.
"No. _No_ ," I said. "Do not touch me."
Dessa took another step away, obviously reassessing my level of crazy.
Eleanor did not pull away. She cupped my junk like a doctor. Then wiggled her fingers around a bit more just to make sure she had covered all the ground.
Her ice-cold touch ended all my happy-sex thoughts, and not in the good way.
Bitch.
"You weren't complaining just a minute ago," Dessa said.
"It's . . . Jesus." I scowled at Eleanor. Took a deep breath and tried again.
"It's not you. Listen, love. I'm all for the sex-as-bribery thing. A fan of it, really. But if we're going to trust each other enough to actually do anything about this killer of yours—not that I'm agreeing to help, let's just assume I'm entertaining the idea—you have to untie me and tell me the details of what I might— _might_ —be agreeing to."
She hesitated. I didn't blame her. But what she wasn't seeing was that my head was finally, for the first time since before the bar, completely clear.
Maybe it was from the ghost clutching my junk. More likely whatever she'd slipped in my drink had worn off.
I could break out of these ropes and suck all the binding bits out of the wooden chair and free myself, Void stones or no Void stones. But it was my turn to see if she really wanted to negotiate. Really wanted to trust me.
"Set me free and we can bribe each other like adults," I said with a smile.
Her eyes flashed, then settled into a deep smolder.
She walked slowly around me. "Do you think I don't know how dangerous you are?" She paused at my back. I wondered if she was reaching for her guns. Wondered if I'd have a bullet in my head.
"Do you think I'm going to trust you enough to just let you go?"
"Yes," I said. "Yes, I do."
She was silent for a second or two. Then she bent down and her voice was warm against my ear, sending a fever across my skin. "You're _very_ good, Shamus."
A hard, sharp jerk at my wrists. The rope cut free and fell away. I pulled my hands apart and rolled my shoulders.
"What about my feet?" I asked, hoping for another chance at her, on her knees in front of me, and me, with my hands free this time.
"You can handle that, can't you?" She dragged her fingers up the back of my neck then tugged on my hair.
I arched my head back, eyes closed, neck bare. Wanting her touch. She let go.
Damn.
I bent and took some time untying the ropes around my ankles, fingers thick and numb.
Then I stood.
I'm not going to lie. I was sore and bruised. I didn't know how long I'd been crammed in that trunk, nor if she'd gone through the trouble to beat me with a tire iron before tying me up. Or I could just be hurting from whatever it was she'd dosed my drink with.
Still, it wasn't the worst date I'd ever had.
"So, what exactly did you poison me with?" I turned.
She was shrugging into her shirt—a button-down that was not buttoned.
She looked over her shoulder, and her lips curved at one corner. "Just a little something I have and you want."
"Mmm," I said, not paying a lot of attention to her answer.
She must have picked up on that. She bent and, holding my gaze, took her time pulling her jeans up her long, smooth legs and over her hips before she tugged on the zipper.
I swallowed to get my tongue working again. "So we're going to bargain and blackmail over every last detail? Is that any way to build a relationship?"
"Look at it from my perspective," she said. "Having the upper hand with you is the only way you and I can have a relationship. Plus, it's a lot more interesting that way, don't you think?"
I could lie. I didn't.
"Yes," I said, rubbing at my wrists and the ache there. "Much more interesting. I don't suppose you'd like to kiss on it to seal the deal?"
She started buttoning her shirt. "We have a deal?"
"We do if you tell me who killed your brother. And before you refuse, listen to me, love. There are certain people in this world I will not kill. Will not. No matter what manner of horror they have committed."
That seemed to speak to her. She nodded.
"I don't know his name," she said. "But he was a member of the Authority. Dangerous then. More dangerous now. I have information that says he might be in the Portland area."
"Why? Do you know what he's doing here?"
"No. My guess is he's planning to kill more people."
"Or he's visiting his dear old gram for all you know. So far, I'm not seeing a lot to go on. Do you know why he killed your brother?"
"My brother was . . . mixed up with the Authority. I didn't know it then. He never . . . said anything to me."
"There's only one way to keep a secret organization secret," I said.
"I didn't want to believe it. Didn't even find out about it until I pulled his files. He worked for the group in Seattle."
"Do you know what style of magic he used?"
It used to be a big hush-hush that there were more styles of using magic than Life, which doctors tended to use, or Faith, that teachers liked to use. We'd pretty safely kept Death and Blood magic out of the public notice, although there were just enough Blood spells leaked to the public to keep the druggies and thrill seekers happy.
"He was a Closer. I don't know what that means."
"Well, that means you have a possible motive for revenge. Closers were magic users who took people's memories away. Magically," I added. "So the secrets of the secret organization could remain secret."
"Jesus," she said.
It was still strange to me that people were so surprised by that. I'd been born and raised in the Authority. Since before I could talk I'd known the price for stepping too far out of line—and getting caught—was having your memories wiped.
"He must have known something," she said.
"Or he was part of Closing someone's memories and they decided they didn't like it much."
"Enough to kill?"
I slipped my fingers in my jacket pocket, digging for cigarettes. Found them, lit up without asking her opinion on it. Sat on the edge of the bug-infested bed. She really had chosen a shit hole of a motel. I wondered why.
"Closers could take memories away," I said. "Change lives. Make a person forget those he loves: spouse, children, siblings, parents. Give a person an entirely new past. A new identity. Make it so he could never use magic again." I took a drag on the cigarette, exhaled. "So, yes. I'd say someone could be angry enough at a Closer they'd want him dead."
She grappled with that for a bit, which stalled her in buttoning her shirt and jeans. I did not mind the view.
"How did he kill him?" I asked.
"What?" she said. Okay, she was a little more shaken by her brother's past as a Closer than I'd expected.
"How did your brother die?"
She seemed to pull herself together. She shook her head. "I don't want to say. Not yet. But I can show you."
The cigarette had almost burned down, so I took the last drag to kill it. Looked around for an ashtray, didn't see one. I flicked it on the carpet with the other cigarette burns and wiped my boot over it.
"It would be a start. But I'm not saying I'll hunt anyone down for you."
"He was a good man," she said. "Had a wife and a baby girl."
"I'm sorry for their loss. And yours. But I make no promises here."
She had kicked off her boots to pull on her jeans. Her top three shirt buttons were still undone, showing just the edge of her bra and breast.
For a second, I wondered what was wrong with me. The old Shame would have promised her anything, fucked her in this dirty hotel, then left her with nothing but a pile of lies.
Was it possible I'd contracted a conscience from all the hell I'd been through? Picked up a terrible case of morality and a Zayvion-like sense of right and wrong?
Who was I kidding? I'd always had a moral code. I never used a girl who wasn't consciously using me right back. And I never promised someone something this important, something their heart was riding on, and broke my word.
Okay, maybe it wasn't all that moral, but it was a code.
"There are other people I can approach to do this," she said.
"I know."
"I have information that could mean the difference between people in this town staying alive or not."
"I know."
"I have information on the missing girl who was found dead up in Forest Park."
"So do the police."
She shook her head. "They don't know what I know." She paused, studied my face. "You don't care, do you?"
She was wrong. I cared. A lot. Especially if anything happened to harm Zay and Allie. And yes, even if anything happened to Terric.
"I'm not promising to care. Not even about your brother's killer." It was blunt. Honest. "But I want to see how he was killed. And I want to hear about the missing girl."
She didn't look at all surprised. Still, she considered me for a long moment.
"Not here," she said as she tied up her boots. "Let's do lunch instead. Also, I think you should pay for the room."
"How about I don't file kidnapping charges instead?"
She glanced up. Smiled. "You know I could kill you from a rooftop if you approach the police."
"Oooh. I like it when you talk dirty."
She stood. Stepped up close to me.
I thought maybe I ought to kiss her. Maybe I ought to talk her into seeing things my way, Shamus-style.
"You still haven't given my boyish charms a chance," I said.
"To seduce me?" she asked.
"To make you never want to be with any other man as long as you live."
She laughed, truly laughed. It was a musical sort of thing that filled the silent places in me.
"You think _very_ highly of yourself, don't you?"
"Not at all. I am painfully humble."
She closed the distance between us. Close enough I could smell her perfume, a very light vanilla scent that made me want to lean in closer and taste it on her skin.
"And what if I took you up on it?" she asked, tipping her head up to meet my eyes. She was breathing deep and slow. Waiting. Wanting.
"You would not be disappointed," I said softly. I lifted my hand and gently pushed her hair away from her face.
A key turning the bolt on the door clicked. We both looked that way.
She pivoted, a gun suddenly in her hand, but I knew who was on the other side. Knew the heartbeat.
I grabbed her arm and pulled her up against me, turning to foul her shot.
"No," I said. Just as the door opened to show the man standing there.
Davy Silvers.
"Sorry to interrupt. Shame, I need to talk to you."
Davy looked like he was barely old enough to drink, although he'd shown me his license once that said he was twenty-three. Blond, sort of an easygoing-skater-kid look, complete with a turquoise beaded necklace. Most people had no idea he was the head of the entire network of Hounds in Portland. And since Hounds used to be the best at tracking illegal spells back to the caster, he liked the anonymity.
The reason I knew his heartbeat? He was the only man I knew who had been more screwed over by magic than Terric and me.
He'd made it through the apocalypse, but not before he'd been infected by poisoned magic, and then had been kept alive by Eli "the Cutter" Collins. Collins was brilliant, as most sociopaths are, and was a hell of a magic user. Eli had also been kicked out of the Authority for the horrors he'd done with magic. So even though Eli had literally carved spells into Davy's skin to keep Davy alive, I wasn't sad when I'd heard Collins had left Portland for good.
"Friend of mine," I said to Dessa.
She scoped Davy out like she was filling in a missing person report. Then she lowered the gun.
"Outside okay with you?" Davy asked.
"Sure," I said. "Outside should be fine."
Davy didn't shut the door, just leaned there with it propped open, looking like he wasn't paying very close attention to every detail of the situation.
"So," I said to Dessa, who stepped out of my arms. "This was fun. Thanks for the drink. Try not to kill anybody I wouldn't kill."
I started toward Davy.
"I'll see you real soon, Flynn," she said.
Yes, it was a reminder of our lunch date. And also a threat. I would have been disappointed by anything less.
# Chapter 9
Davy had a beat-down old pickup that had been left to him by a good friend. Allie once told me it was the truck Martin Pike used to drive. Pike had been a hell of a Hound, and a mentor to Davy.
I put on my sunglasses, even though it was still dark out, then made straight for the truck, glancing around to try to get my bearings. Lots of tall fir trees, some pine sprinkled in. The buzz of a busy road tickled the edge of my hearing, but none of these things were distinct enough to stand out from any other corner of the northwest.
"Where the hell?" I asked.
And that's when it hit me. I was in St. Helens, northwest of Portland, somewhere off Highway 30. A dead zone. Back when magic was broken, but strong, there were only a few places off-grid that were naturally magicless. This was one of them.
"She really knows how to cover her bases," I said.
"Get in," Davy said as he walked around to the driver's side of the truck. He didn't give me hell for being drugged, trunked, and tied up by some strange woman, which is how I knew whatever he had come to tell me was not good news.
"Who's hurt?" I asked.
He opened the door, got in.
I swung up into the passenger's seat.
Davy started the engine and refused to say anything until we had tires on asphalt. Pretty soon the Highway 30 signs flashed by at the side of the road, white in the darkness.
"It's Joshua Romero," Davy said. "He's dead."
I leaned my head back against the headrest and took each emotion as it came: anger, sorrow, anger, loss, anger, acceptance and anger.
Joshua was a nice guy out of Seattle, a Closer who'd thrown his lot in with us Portlanders when we were trying to convince the Authority we weren't crazy, while simultaneously saving the damn world.
"How?" I asked, dragging through my memories for him mentioning health issues.
"Murder."
"The hell. How?"
"Magic."
Okay. Maybe this wasn't my call anymore, since I hadn't really been the head guy in charge of anything magic related for more than a year, but there was too damn much murdering by magic going on lately. Especially since killing someone with magic simply should not be in ninety-nine percent of the population's reach anyway.
"Do you, does anyone know who?" I asked. "Or when? Or how _exactly_? __ As in what kind of magic? Tell me they had Hounds on the scene. Tell me the police up there didn't just think Hounding and tracking back a spell is some kind of Ouija board voodoo trick."
"I don't know yet. I just got the call."
"How long has Terric had you tailing me?" I asked.
He glanced at me. "I'm not following you for Terric."
"Who, then? Allie? Zayvion? Please tell me it isn't my mother."
"Shame. Joshua is dead. Can we put you and your problems on the back burner for a minute?"
Like I said, he wasn't as young as he looked.
"Gladly. Where did it happen?"
"He was found in his car. In a parking garage on Burnside."
"Whoa, hold on. He was in Portland?"
"Yes. And it looked like he'd gotten in his car and dropped dead behind the wheel before he ever had the chance to turn the key."
"Where's his family?"
"They were in Seattle. They've been taken in. They're nowhere anyone can find them now."
I nodded. So the Authority was still doing its part in trying to protect magic users and families of magic users. But Joshua wasn't a Soul Complement to his wife—they didn't use magic together and couldn't break it to make it powerful.
So why was he targeted?
"What was Joshua doing?" Here's where being out of touch was working against me. I didn't even know if Joshua was still working a magic-related job, or if he'd washed his hands of it all and finally opened that restaurant he'd always dreamed of.
"I don't know all the details, but he was still involved in magic. Rehab, I think. Finally put his counseling degree to use."
"Rehabbing magic users?"
"Helping place people who used to use magic, or were harmed by magic, into magic-free or low-magic jobs. Most of those people still live here in Portland since this is where magic went bad. You know how it is for us all. To have that kind of power fade away. Hard adjustment."
"Last time I was paying attention, it took a hell of a lot of work, and a hell of a lot of people, like a hundred or more, to pull on enough magic to do anything harmful to someone," I said.
"That hasn't changed."
I was silent. So was he. We were close to Portland now, traveling on well-lit roads.
Davy had probably already come to the conclusion I'd been trying very hard to ignore. The only person strong enough to use magic to kill someone with it was a Breaker. A Soul Complement.
"We're looking for two people, aren't we?" I said.
Davy nodded.
"Balls."
"At least it will be a short list," Davy said.
That was the upside of Soul Complements being rare.
"Unless there's a pair out there we don't know about," I said.
He nodded. "That's what we were thinking."
From the tone, I knew Davy wasn't telling me everything. "We? Who are you working for, Davy, my boy? Police? Overseer? Perhaps a little freelancing with government black ops?"
"Right now? The Overseer. He has a Hound on every known Soul Complement."
"And how long have you really been following me? Come on now, tell Uncle Shame."
That got a quick smile out of him and he looked my way. "About a week. Do you know that you talk to yourself a lot?"
"Yes."
"What's that all about?"
"It's an Irish thing."
"It sounds more like a crazy-guy thing. I mean, it's practically full conversations. Arguments. You go on and on, Shame."
"It's a pity we'll never get to the bottom of this mystery," I said.
Davy smiled. "Never say never to a Hound. Also never say mystery, come to think of it."
"How about drop it? Or where are we going?"
"Or how about you tell me about your date back there?"
"Nothing to say, mate," I said.
"Nothing? You staggered out of the bar like you'd drained half their stock, but I only saw you go through two beers and four shots over six hours. With lunch."
"So?"
"That's not enough to get you drunk."
"So?"
"So either you were faking it or she dropped something in your drink."
"By the way, do you know who she is?" I asked.
"I know she had a rifle trained on you. On more than one occasion."
"Jesus, Silvers. You didn't want to tell a man he was in some sniper's crosshairs?"
"Like you didn't know. I'm curious as to why you haven't told Terric about her."
"Who says I haven't?"
He gave me a look, then turned his gaze back to the road.
"I've seen that man he's dating," he said a little more quietly.
Didn't have to fill in the blanks. I knew he was talking about Terric's bruiser.
"Dash mentioned he didn't approve of the situation," I said. "You have any information on Jeremy I should know about?"
"He's tied into an old family of Blood magic users. Used to deal spell-laced drugs. They have connections in the region. Some say Black Crane. Powerful people who made a lot of money while magic was hot."
"And now that it's cold?"
"They still have connections. Power. Deals in place."
"Do they have anything on Terric?"
Davy didn't say anything for a minute. Slowed for a light, then turned left. "Not that we can find."
So he had been checking in on Jeremy. Nice of him. "There's that 'we' again. Who asked you to check in on Terric's love life?"
"Allie and Zay. Plus, Terric's my friend too, you know? I keep an eye on my friends. And he's been . . . different since he's been with Jeremy."
I didn't say anything so he just kept on talking.
"You want to know what I think, Shame?"
"I really don't."
"I think Terric wouldn't be trying to keep Jeremy alive if you were around. I think he'd instead use that Life magic to damp down the Death magic that's killing you."
"Killed," I said. "Not killing. Other than the whole breathing thing, I'm not much alive, mate."
"Sure," he said. "You're as dead as I am. Magic changed us. Made us into . . . something else. You don't see me whining about it."
"You know what you don't see me doing?" I said. "Being a prick."
"Or admitting I'm right and you don't like it."
"There must be someone else's business you can dick around in," I muttered.
"Oh, there is. Plenty of people's. None quite as fun as yours."
"I'm so pleased you find me amusing. Also, you do realize that Terric put Jeremy's cancer into remission? That means something to him. To both of them."
"I know. It means something to Jeremy's doctors too. And his family. As a matter of fact, some members of his family, powerful people, are taking very close notice of what Terric can do with magic."
And there it was. The angle I hadn't seen. If Jeremy's powerful family saw Terric as a way to hold off illness, cure diseases, or hell, put a new kick into the drug-of-the-week they were cooking up, then Terric was suddenly a valuable commodity. Someone worth controlling.
Maybe even someone worth hurting.
"Does this have anything to do with the government hunting down Soul Complements?" I asked.
"That's . . . news. Want to fill me in?"
"Aren't you working for the Overseer?"
"Working, yes. It's not like he invites me into his bedroom to talk over his day."
"I probably shouldn't," I said. So I did anyway. "The Overseer called a meeting. Hell, I guess it was this morning. What day is it?"
"Friday, but only by a few hours."
"Okay, so yesterday late morning the Overseer fired Terric and me, put Clyde Turner in our place, and told all the Soul Complements in the room that the government had declared it Breaker season and was most likely hunting us down."
"All the Soul Complements? How many were there?"
"Me and Ter, Zay and Allie, Doug and Nancy, and two other couples I don't know."
"What did they look like?"
I did a quick recap of the cougar and the younger man, and of the hipster pair.
"The cougar is Simone Latchly, and the man with her—he's older than me, Shame—is Brian Welling. They're out of San Diego. The other couple is from Arizona. Anthony Pardes and Holly Doyle. You should know that. You were Head of the Authority."
"I left the details to my underlings."
"Nice try. I know what you did your first year. I was there with you, remember?"
What I'd done was worked my ass off to keep the normal people in the world from killing every Authority member they found out about. There was a lot of anger, mistrust, and blatant hate in the first year of everyone getting their memories back.
If you looked at it right, I'd saved a lot of lives that first year. Well, Terric and I had.
Healing magic had proved that secrets, grudges, hurt feelings, and lawsuits do not die easily.
I just shrugged and rubbed my thumb over the edge of the ring on my finger. We were well out of the dead zone. Magic pooled naturally and flowed through the networks and pipelines far belowground.
Easy to access as it ever was.
My hunger, which must have been snuffed out by being around Terric, then poisoned, covered in Void stones, and dragged to a nonmagical zone, was gnawing on me again.
I needed to consume. Now.
Davy was, strangely, one of the only people who didn't make me want to drain him. He was right about magic changing him. I could sense it in his heartbeat too. He still carried a trace of the tainted magic that had almost killed him. A lot of magic poured through his body, in his blood and bones. It didn't give him the power to break magic, like Terric and me. It was simply keeping him alive and, therefore, not easily consumable.
Davy was not quite a real boy.
Eleanor was in the back of the truck, immune to wind or cold or rain.
I didn't have the concentration to draw on the vegetation rolling past at seventy-five miles an hour. But the truck engine was burning. Working hard. Changing mass into energy. Fire, heat. I could work with that.
"Listen," I said. "It's been a long and weird night. I'm going to catch some z's. I assume you're taking me back to Portland, and maybe to Clyde or whoever is on top of the information coming in on Joshua's death?"
"Something like that," he said.
"Right. Wake me when we get there."
I closed my eyes and very carefully drew on a thin burn from the engine. Not so much to kill it, but enough that Davy's gas mileage was going to go to hell.
I didn't really sleep, but I did my best to be still, to drink the heat and fire and destruction off the truck, and leave Davy and every living thing around me alone.
I'd gotten good at pushing the world away. At making people and anything even remotely resembling life, anything that I might care about, something that existed at a far distance from me.
Worked on doing that now. Closed out the world. Closed out the motion, the sounds. Made all the edges soft and far, far away.
And when I had finally done that, finally settled into that dark, padded place where me and my insanity could sit down for tea, all I saw was Dessa's face, her laughter breathing over me so close it dug in like a sweet, sharp dream.
# Chapter 10
Where we did not go: to the police. To the office. To the Overseer.
Where we did go: to the morgue.
And yes. Terric was there, waiting for us. He looked clean, showered, clothed in dark jeans and a tight black T-shirt. Like his night hadn't been full of ropes, guns, and trunk rides.
Or, you know . . . maybe it had been.
"Davy, Shame." Terric held out a cup of coffee for each of us.
I took mine but hesitated before drinking it. "If you spiked this, I'll make your life miserable."
"It's coffee with five sugars and an ungodly amount of cream," he said.
I took a sip. Man was speaking the truth. It was sweet, creamy, unpoisoned heaven.
"Why so twitchy?" he asked.
"Been running bad odds on my likelihood of being poisoned lately."
"So she did slip you a roofie," Davy said.
"I didn't say that."
"Who?" Terric asked. "What 'she' slipped you a roofie? When? At the bar?"
I could tell he was getting worked up. Not because of his tone or heartbeat, but his control of Life magic was slipping, sort of covering him in a glowing white light.
It occurred to me that having a Life magic user like Terric lose control in the middle of a morgue might be option C for how to kick off the zombie uprising.
"Just a misunderstanding with a beautiful redhead," I said. "No worries. Davy was watching my back."
"Really?" Terric turned to Davy. "How long have you been doing that?"
Davy gave a loose shrug. "Not long."
"Davy," Terric began in his boss voice.
"Hey!" I said. "Isn't there a dead body we should be looking at? I mean, come on, Terric. Put your issues on the back burner for a minute. This isn't always about you. Have you no decency?"
Terric turned toward me so Davy was behind him. Davy shook his head at me and rolled his eyes.
"Joshua's here, isn't he?" I asked.
That seemed to bring Terric back to the business at hand. "Yes. Davy, you don't have to come in if you don't want to."
"I want to," he said.
So we all followed Terric down the gray hall to a door at the left. Then through the doors and into a room with a metal wall of twelve closed drawers, each big enough to hold a human. Paperwork hung from a few of the drawers, and when I took a second to glance at the rest of the room I noted medical equipment, sinks, lights, and movable tables.
All as clean as could be.
Well, except for the harder-to-reach corners and tiles where vague proof of the day's business lingered.
You'd think I'd feel right at home here. All this death. All those dead bodies cooling on the shelf.
I didn't. It gave me the goddamn creeps.
Terric strolled over to the metal drawers and tugged on the one to the far left, bottom. No paperwork there. As a matter of fact, I noted he pulled out a set of keys and unlocked it before tugging it open.
"Keys? Don't those belong to Clyde Turner now?" I asked.
"I haven't had time to turn everything over to him yet," Terric said. "Was going to finish that up today."
He pulled the drawer open.
Thankfully, Joshua was draped with a sheet, leaving only his head uncovered.
Still, it wasn't easy to look down on a man who I'd last seen laughing at a birthday party.
Terric was calm, steady. He handled death a hell of a lot better than I did.
Bastard.
"They initially said it looked like a heart attack," he said. "So that's what I'm letting out to the media and police. For now. There are some marks I want you to see, Shame. And, Davy?" He glanced up at Davy, his hand on the edge of the sheet. "Are you sure you want to stay?"
"Even more now that you've asked me twice," Davy said.
Terric drew the sheet down to reveal Joshua's bare chest and stomach.
Carved into his skin with a thin, artistic hand were spells. Pain. Binding. Death.
"Jesus Christ," Davy breathed.
I glanced up, met Terric's gaze. Even though I couldn't hear his thoughts, right then, right there, he and I had an agreement: kill the son of a bitch who had done this.
"Shame," Terric said, maybe more for Davy than me, "do you recognize this signature?"
See, here's the thing. Every magic user has to draw glyphs, or symbols, that in turn magic fills and acts upon. And just like handwriting, every magic user has a unique signature. The way I cast Light doesn't look exactly the same way Terric casts Light.
Hounds, like Davy, are trained in knowing every magic user's signature. They spend a lot of time keeping up on such things, and there were databases where each magic user had to register his or her signature.
But I didn't need a database to know who had killed Joshua.
"Eli Collins," I said.
Davy's heart kicked up into fight-or-flight mode, the kind of sweat-terror you fall into when realizing the nightmare didn't go away when you turned on the lights.
"Davy," Terric said in a tone that pushed Davy's heartbeat down a notch. "Do you agree?"
Davy nodded. "That's his work. I'd swear on it."
The door opened.
We all turned, Davy with his hand on his hip—was he carrying a gun now?—Terric with his left hand casting a spell, and me with my right hand already through a spell, only the cracking red static across my rings holding the magic from filling it.
"I didn't mean to startle you," Dessa said as she sauntered in without batting an eye at any of the near deaths we were aiming her way.
"Shame," she said, "want to introduce me to your friends here?"
"No."
She stopped about halfway across the room. "Look, I'm unarmed. Well, I have these guns." She reached inside her jacket and Davy pulled a gun.
"Don't," he said.
"I'm going to put them on the counter here, so you don't have to worry about it," she said.
"Let her," Terric said.
"Fine," Davy said. "Slowly."
She reached into her jacket, pulled her guns, slowly, one by one, and placed them on the counter.
"Step away from it." Davy sounded like he'd done this more than once. Over the past three years of Hounding for the police, I assumed he had.
She stepped away and even kept her hands out to the side. "So, were they killed by magic?" she asked.
"I'm sorry," I said. "Why the hell are you here?"
"You know why." She took a couple steps closer. "Also, we forgot to set our lunch date."
Terric lowered his hand, then, to me, "Shame."
I sighed and let go of the spell. I shook my hand and a loud crack of electricity lashed out to the floor in a red arc, the pull on magic interrupted like a fuse shorting out.
Dessa's eyes went a little wide and she paused before coming any closer. I noted Davy did not put away his gun.
"Her name is Dessa," I said. "She never told me who she works for. If I had to guess?" I gave her the up-down, gauging her with sober eyes. "I'd say government."
"Very good," she said. "Dessa Leeds," she said to Terric. "And I know you're Terric Conley, and you're Davy Silvers. What I don't know is who the dead person is."
"Why should you?" Terric asked.
"She shouldn't," I said.
"I'll make it worth your while, Mr. Conley," she said.
"Ha! Barking up the wrong tree, sister," I said.
"How?" he asked.
"I have information," she said, "about the movement against Soul Complements."
Terric weighed her comment and, as I expected he would, decided the information and possible safety of others was worth the risk. "I won't give you his name," Terric said.
"That's fine," she said. "I just want to see his injuries."
Terric nodded.
I sighed again. So not the way I would have let this go down. I missed being in charge.
Terric was on the far side of the drawer, I stood near the head of it, and Davy was on the other side, closest to Dessa.
She walked over, and paused nearest me.
I folded my arms over my chest and watched her while she studied Joshua's wounds. Okay, I'm not a sentimental guy—not really. But I've always seen pain as a very personal kind of thing. Tell someone you're hurting, and you've just told them how you are vulnerable.
So I did not like letting Dessa, no matter how nice she was, stare at my friend's dead body. Stare at the wounds that had proved his final weakness.
I expected her to keep her feelings to herself, but the expression on her face was clear and honest: sorrow.
"These marks," she said. "They're from a blade—a knife—aren't they?"
"Yes," Terric said. I didn't know if he was watching me or watching her, because I refused to take my eyes off her.
She shook her head, as if she didn't want to deal with what was right in front of her. "And magic. They're spells, aren't they? The only one I recognize is Binding there." She pointed to a Celtic-knot-looking design carved between the Death and Pain symbols.
"They're spells," Terric said.
"And they killed him?" She finally looked up. Not at me, at Terric.
Terric's body language shifted. He was measuring her just the same as I had. And he'd come to the same conclusion. She knew something about this. Something that was causing her sadness.
"My brother was found like this," she said. "Dead. With spells carved into his chest. Just like these."
"You never said that," I said.
"I was going to show you, remember?"
"Who's your brother?" Davy asked.
"He was a Closer," I said.
Davy nodded. We'd had so many threats against Closers over the years, the death rate was in a much higher percentage than other magic users.
"His name was Thomas Leeds," she said. "He worked in Seattle."
Terric frowned, searching his memory. "I think I met Tommy once, briefly. I'm sorry for your loss."
Then he pulled the sheet up to Joshua's chin and slid his body back into that endless cold.
"What can you tell us about your brother's killer?" he asked.
"Not a lot," she said. "He used to be a part of the Authority. That's all I know, other than he may be in this area."
Since they'd found Joshua's body in a parking garage downtown, yeah, I'd say Eli was in the area.
"And about the government looking for Soul Complements?" he asked.
"I'll tell you what I know if you help me find who did this." She pointed toward the drawer.
"I am not in a position to guarantee you anything along those lines," he said.
Funny, that's pretty much exactly what I'd told her. I tilted a told-you-so look her way.
"Well, I'm going to be looking for the killer. Which means I'll probably be getting in your way. I might even take my story to the police, or to the media. Blow the whole secret about magic being used to kill people right out of the water. I'm sure the citizens of Portland would be thrilled to find out all their fears about magic, and the mysterious Authority, are true."
"Blackmail, darling?" I said. "Really? How will that help your hunt? I don't think having cops and reporters crawling over every move is going to give you time to find anything except a good lawyer."
"Either I'm in on finding the man who killed my brother and your friend there, or I'm going to make sure that we're all out." An ultimatum. Gutsy move.
I opened my mouth to tell her she was out of luck.
"Then you're in," Terric said.
I kept my surprise to myself. "Wonderful," I muttered.
"Good," she said, looking surprised at his decision too. "Good. Where do we start?"
"We'll need to see if there are records on your brother we can pull," Terric said. "Did you drive here?"
"Yes."
"You can follow us downtown to the office." He locked the drawer, then started toward the door, pausing only to take her guns and shove them in his pockets.
"Those are my guns," she said.
"Not while we're working together, they aren't," he said without looking back.
Have I mentioned there are moments when I really, really like that guy?
"They're not my only guns," she said.
"Then you can give me the rest at the office," Terric said.
Davy just shook his head. "You have no idea what you're getting into, Leeds."
"Don't I?" she asked as she followed Terric. "All right. How about you fill me in?"
"I think you'll find out soon enough."
He followed behind her. I noticed Davy did not put his gun away.
Me? I paused next to the door. Let them all get a distance down the hall. Then I said a prayer for Joshua. Hell, said a prayer for the rest of us while I was at it.
I had a bad feeling we'd need all the help we could get.
# Chapter 11
Davy was gone before any of the rest of us, slipping down the street and rumbling away in that big old truck. I figured he was going to report Joshua and Dessa and everything else to the Overseer.
We had maybe fifteen minutes tops before Clyde Turner found out and locked us out of the records, and any- and everything else he thought we shouldn't be digging around in.
I swung into the passenger seat of Terric's car.
"Fifteen minutes?" I said.
"Until?" he asked.
"The Overseer tells Clyde to lock us out of this case."
"Clyde might say no."
We were headed to the office. I noted it was still dark out, and checked the dashboard clock. Four in the morning. Jesus, I hated going to work this early. Or at least, I assumed I did. I didn't think I'd ever gone into work this early.
" . . . for me would you?"
"What?"
"Dash. Call him. Tell him to meet us down there."
"At the office," I said, taking Terric's cell phone.
"Yes. Don't you ever listen to me?"
"Every word."
I dialed. Dash, that overachiever, answered before the first ring was done.
"Spade," he said.
"Hey, Dash, this is Shame. Terric wants you to meet us at the office as soon as possible."
"Trouble?"
"You could say that."
"I'll be there in five." He hung up.
"Be there in five," I said. "Where does that kid live?"
"Loft space just a few streets down. So, she poisoned you?"
"Well, yes. I let her poison me."
"Uh-huh. Then what happened?"
"Nothing. Nothing happened."
"Shame, I just told her she could be a part of this hunt. I want to know everything that happened, everything you know about her. I'm giving you three minutes to cover it."
"Why three?"
"Because if I guessed wrong and she's not what I think she is, I'm going to turn right and head straight to the police. When she follows us, I'll knock her out and lock her up."
"Brutal. Effective. Very double-crossy of you, Terric. Why are you suddenly playing by the dark side of the rule book?"
"Joshua is dead."
He let that sit for a second or two. "He's not going to be the last friend of ours we bury if we don't stop Collins."
So I filled him in. Every. Last. Detail.
He didn't laugh. The only time he spoke was to clarify things like what kind of car she was driving, what other cars I saw parked next to the motel, and what kinds of guns she was carrying.
"Are you going out to lunch with her?"
"If she has something on the missing people around town, don't you think I should?"
"She could be lying."
"Sure."
"Do you think we can trust her?" he asked.
"You're asking me to judge someone's trustworthiness?"
"Yes. Your gut feeling on her." He glanced at me. " _Honest_ gut feeling."
I dragged my fingers through my hair, rings rubbing and snapping as I did so.
"She makes me want to trust her. I think . . . I'd guess that before her brother's death she might have been a lot of fun to be around. She's got . . . spunk. She's calm under pressure, is trying to do the right thing. Plus, gorgeous. Her brother's death isn't a lie. She's grieving. She wants his killer to pay—not just to die, but to pay—for killing her brother."
"And she wants . . . us. Our information so she can take care of the killer and move on with her life."
"She wants you," Terric said. He waited. Waited for me to answer that.
"Who wouldn't? This?" I pointed to my face and body. "Irresistible."
The muscle at his jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. "Is that all she wants from you?"
I took a deep breath and scrubbed my hand through my hair again, trying to smooth it this time. "She wants what I am. What I can give her: Death. A horrible, painful death for the man who killed her brother."
"Not exactly marriage material," he noted.
"I'm not planning on marrying the girl."
"Good."
What kind of tone was that?
"Terric," I said with a wide smile. "Are you jealous?"
"No."
"Aw, c'mon, now, mate. You're jealous I have a girlfriend. It bothers you that I like the look of her. The idea of being with her. And I would have done a hell of a lot more than kiss her if Eleano—"
I stopped. I didn't talk about Eleanor. Hadn't for years. Certainly not to Terric. I couldn't believe I'd almost started talking about her now. Why remind him that I'd killed a perfectly nice person because I was weak and had lost control of the monster within me?
"If what?" Terric asked.
"Nothing."
He didn't push it. And yes, I was grateful for that.
He changed the subject instead. "So you trust her?"
"To a point. She has a goal. Right now it's the same as ours. Or similar, anyway. I want the information she has. I think we can trust her to be truthful about what she knows. You know, until we can't."
He nodded. "So we don't lock her up, until we have to."
"This is nice," I noted. "Just like old times. Think Davy's ratted us out to Clyde yet?"
"He'll give us an hour. He wants Collins dead more than any of us. And the Overseer tends to make cut-and-dry decisions. He might want to lock Collins up and excuse the Authority of any other involvement in the case. But if we investigate, we'll let Davy come along while we take Collins down. The Overseer would never let a Hound into Authority business. Especially not a Hound with plenty of reasons for vengeance."
I nodded. Pulled out cigarettes and lighter. Rolled down the window. Lit up. Knew Terric was really worried about all this when he didn't even tell me not to smoke in his car.
I finished off three cigarettes, only getting five puffs in total by the time we pulled up to the office. This was becoming an expensive habit.
Terric parked along the side street and Dessa's car rolled up just a few spaces down. Okay, the good thing about being downtown this early: plenty of parking spaces.
We got out, waited for her, headed to the doors.
"What kind of food do you like?" Dessa asked as we stepped into the elevator.
"For?"
"Lunch."
"I'm flexible."
Terric snorted and stepped into the waiting elevator.
He leaned against one side of the elevator, I leaned against the other, and she stood at the back wall. Eleanor kept her hands to herself.
"I've heard there are some great vegan places," she said, "or sushi?"
"You like vegan, right, Shame?" Terric said.
"Pizza," I said, giving Terric a shut-up look. "Let's do pizza."
"All right." She leaned her shoulders back, more relaxed now that it was settled. "When?"
"Why not this afternoon?"
"Good."
The doors opened.
Dash was there, waiting by the elevator. "Shame, Terric. . . ." His voice fell off as he saw Dessa step out behind us. "Um . . . hello. Have we met?"
"Dash, this is Dessa," I said. "She's some kind of government assassin or something."
"Leeds," she said, offering Dash her hand to shake. "Dessa Leeds. Ex-government or something."
"Nice to meet you," he said. Then, "Terric. Clyde is here."
Terric paused just slightly in his stride down the hall. Enough time that I caught up with him.
"Want me to handle it?" I asked as we walked, shoulder to shoulder, down to the main office.
"Absolutely no, I do not," he said.
"I heard yes." I reached the door just a step ahead of him and pushed it open.
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Clyde Turner," I said cheerily. "What the hell are you doing down here so early?"
What Clyde was doing was sitting at one of the empty desks to one side of the room, writing on a legal pad.
He'd taken off his Giants hat, but was still wearing a flannel shirt, T-shirt, and jeans. A thermos and cup of coffee rested near his elbow.
He looked up, and took in the party coming his way. "Shame. What are you up to?"
Funny how I was always the one suspected of trouble.
"I need a word with you," I said. "Maybe in my office?"
By this time Terric had caught up with me. "We both need a word with you. In _my_ office."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world." He stood. "You two boys working together again?" he asked as he lumbered between desks and down the short hall to Terric's office on the right. Terric unlocked the door so we could go in.
Terric took his place behind the desk, and I motioned for Clyde to head in before me. I shut the door behind us. Then I pulled on magic and cast a Mute spell while I drew down the blinds on the big glass windows.
I trusted Dash to be able to hold his own with Dessa out there, but I didn't want her hearing us or reading our lips.
"That's a nice piece of magic there, Shamus," Clyde said. "What's going on?"
He settled in a chair against the wall across from Terric's desk, and I leaned against the door, my arms crossed over my chest.
"We think Eli Collins is killing people," I said.
"Collins the Cutter?" he asked. "You think he's back in Portland?"
"There have been a string of murders here lately," Terric said. "Which might be connected to him. There has been an even longer string of missing persons. Have you been briefed on them?"
"Detective Stotts mentioned the case when I stopped in yesterday after the meeting. Thought I'd check with you on anything else you know that he doesn't."
"I've been keeping him up to date on everything," Terric said. "Except for what we just found out. Joshua Romero was found dead in his car down on Burnside today."
Clyde exhaled and sat back.
"Did Joshua and Eli have history?" he asked.
Terric shook his head. "I don't know. Other than the battles here a few years back, I don't know if they ever crossed paths."
"How did he die?" Clyde asked.
"Magic," I said.
"Like the bodies that keep showing up in Forest Park?"
"There's been more than one?" I asked.
Terric nodded to me. Then to Clyde. "Not quite. Joshua was cut—glyphs were cut into his skin. Death, Pain, and Binding."
"And you think Collins did this?"
"He's done it before—cut spells into people," I said. "Davy Silvers."
"I know about Davy." Clyde rubbed at the bridge of his nose, then crossed his arms over his chest. "Why didn't you go to the police if you think it's connected to the other deaths?"
"Because if it is Eli, then we have another problem on our hands," Terric said.
"Go on."
"He's killing with magic," I said. "Unless he's come up with some kind of technology to increase magic's power, then the only way one man can be strong enough to kill someone with magic is . . ."
"If he's found his Soul Complement," Terric finished.
Clyde's eyebrows ticked up. "Damn."
He took some time to think that through, while I exchanged meaningful glances with Terric. Was he going to tell Clyde we needed the files and some time to track Eli without every person in the Authority and on the police force knowing what we were doing, or was I?
"I wasn't involved in Closing Eli all those years ago," Clyde said. "Victor took care of that, I think. But I've briefly looked over his file. Especially after he was a part of the fight to rejoin magic you were all involved in. As I recall, he was instrumental in _saving_ Soul Complements then."
"That was then," I said. "Allie was calling the shots and he listened to her, devil only knows why. As soon as he got the Soul Complements to safety, he disappeared."
"Tell me what you have planned," he said.
"It's not much of a plan yet," Terric started.
"Well, you should know that Ter here agreed to let an ex-government assassin in on this case."
"The redhead out there?"
" _We_ agreed," Terric said. "And we don't know that she's an assassin, just that she's ex-government."
"With a sniper rifle," I said.
Terric sighed. "She said her brother was killed by wounds similar to Joshua's. She has a personal stake in finding the killer, and seems pretty intent on dating Shame."
"It's not a date," I said. "It's pizza."
"She poisoned you."
"Just a little."
"Isn't that what your kind call foreplay?" he asked.
"My _kind_?"
"So she's a liability," Clyde interrupted.
"She's someone who has information we can use," I said. "On the Breaker hunt."
Clyde held my gaze, then shifted his look to Terric.
"She could be useful," Terric admitted. What did you know? He actually agreed with me. "And I don't think we'd have any problem handling her."
"When was the last time you two used magic together?" Clyde asked.
"It's been a while," Terric said.
Which was good, because frankly, I couldn't remember the last time he and I had actually used magic together, as in hand in hand at the same time to break it and make it do really dangerous things.
That little scuffle in the alley with the ox, Hamilton, didn't count. I'd been angry, and while Terric's proximity meant I could draw stronger spells, just like the Mute spell that was currently keeping this conversation from being overheard, we had not broken magic in a long, long time.
"I'd like to keep it that way," Clyde said. "The Overseer is recommending Soul Complements get the hell out of Dodge. I agree. And if you are stubborn enough to actually stay in the area—yes, I'm looking at you, Flynn—then you'd better not pull on magic. And neither of you should break it."
Terric frowned, and opened his mouth, but Clyde continued. "Because breaking it sets off sensors we think the government has developed. Sensors that will lead them to the people breaking magic."
"That's new," Terric noted.
He nodded. "I've had some enlightening conversations with the Overseer the last couple days. Breaking magic will only paint an even larger target on your heads."
"We weren't telling you we were going to break magic," I said. "We're telling you—"
"Asking you," Terric corrected.
"Fine," I said, "asking you to give us a day or two to hunt for Collins."
"Before we get the police or anyone else in the Authority involved," Terric said.
Clyde shook his head. "No."
"Come again?" I said.
"No," he repeated.
The rings on my right hand crackled with red. I shut my mouth on what I hoped was a smile. "No?"
Terric sighed. "You don't want us hunting Eli?"
Clyde kept his attention on me, even though he was answering Terric. "I don't want you hunting Eli. I don't want Davy involved either, in case you're wondering. And I don't want some unknown woman anywhere near our business. We work _with_ the law, gentlemen. We are not vigilantes. We do not pursue personal agendas or revenge. Our job is to take care of Authority business as smoothly and discreetly as possible. We have never used Breakers as assassins. We aren't going to start that now."
"We didn't say we were going to kill Eli," I said.
"I heard you. But I _know_ you, Shame. This isn't your call anymore. Neither of you is the Head of the Authority. I am. If you want to remain on the payroll in some other capacity, then you're going to have to get used to my orders and follow them."
"Why are you always looking at me?"
"Because I know which of you won't play by the rules."
I gave him my best smile. "I like rules. They make that cracking sound when they break."
"Shame," Terric said. "He's right. This isn't our call. It's his. Is there anything you need from us?"
"Your keys. Dash has already given me access to the files and everything else." He paused a minute.
I was not paying attention to him. Because I was angry, and angry only led to hungry, and most days, like say when Clyde was not telling me what I could and couldn't do, I liked him.
"...to see you both check in here if you're staying. We'll need to come up with protection plans," he was saying. "You remember there's a meeting in a few hours with the Overseer, right?"
"We'll be there," Terric promised, as if I weren't standing in the room. "I'll make sure of it."
Clyde pushed up onto his feet. "You and I square, Flynn?"
"Not really." Like I said, he and I did not bullshit each other.
"You know what I don't get about you?" he said.
"How I get all the chicks?"
"How after years of doing jack-all, you finally decide that today, and this one thing, is something you're going to apply yourself to. The one damn thing I have to tell you not to do."
"I could come up with other damn things you wouldn't want me to do."
"I'd rather you put your energy into staying alive."
"Yeah. Well, that's not really my thing."
"When you decide what your thing is?" He stepped toward the door and fixed me with a look. "Warn me, okay?"
"Now, where's the fun in that?" I asked.
I dropped the Mute spell with a slash of my hand, and black light snapped across my rings.
Clyde shook his head and walked out the door.
"Shame," Terric said before I could take a step. "You and I have a meeting this morning."
"I heard. I'm not going anywhere until then."
He nodded. "And lunch. With Dessa."
"Don't need you to be my secretary, Ter."
He was still sitting behind his desk, fingers resting lightly on the surface. "Good. I'll be out in a minute." He swiveled his chair so he could stare out at the city.
Dawn was rubbing the black off the sky. Looked like it wasn't going to rain for a change.
I left him to his moping and joined the others in the main room.
Dessa and Dash seemed to have hit it off pretty well, laughing over something—I think a recent movie.
I wondered how much information she's gotten out of him. Knowing Dash, zero.
She was drinking a cup of coffee, and looking . . . well, comfortable.
When she saw me coming and gave me that smile? Something inside me went warm and my heart tapped a hard beat.
What was wrong with me? It's not like I'd never seen a beautiful woman before. But her smile. That smile. For me. It was undiscovered country and I wanted that. Wanted to make her smile.
Those thoughts set off alarms in my head. The warm feeling in my chest felt a lot like happiness. Maybe even hope. Two things that had never worked out well for me.
Things that might be best ignored.
"You two seem to have gotten chummy," I said.
Dash leaned against one of the empty desks. I wondered, not for the first time, why we had so damn many desks that no one ever sat at.
"Good coffee, good company," Dash said. "So, what's the word?"
I shook my head. "We're not going to pursue this."
Dash nodded and took a drink of his coffee, keeping an eye on Dessa. He had excellent instincts.
"What does that mean?" she asked.
I sat on the edge of an empty desk and stuck my hands in my jacket pockets. "I don't know how much research you've done on the Authority, but you must know that we have rules, structure, policies. We work inside the law. Yes, we kept Joshua's death quiet for a few hours, but we're getting the police involved. We're turning the investigation of his death—and who killed him—over to them."
Dash stood. "I'll start making calls." He strolled off to his office, stopping to talk with Clyde, who was on his cell phone near the far window.
"Really?" she said. "This is how you're going to play it?"
"Isn't a game, darling. We've had our see of things, and we'll be turning all information over to the police. You're welcome to come along if you'd like."
She stood. Left her coffee behind. Stepped up in my space.
My body responded to her: heartbeat, blood, breath. Pounding. Needful.
I didn't let it show. But I wanted to. Wanted to smile, and draw her in, and kiss her again until her clothes fell off.
"If you're lying to me," she said.
"I'm not."
She studied my face, the corners of her mouth pulling just slightly downward. Searching for my tell.
"This isn't my poker face," I said. "This is my truth face. We're off this case. Now, if you want to make everyone's life a little easier, you could go talk to Mr. Turner over there and tell him what you know about . . . everything."
She placed her hand on my knee. Heat scorched across my body. And I held my breath on a groan.
_Keep it cool, Shamus. Keep it cool._
"You're going to take orders from him?"
"Today I am."
"What about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow looks good too."
For a second, her mask slipped, and the woman who was grieving for the brother she loved was standing there, with hope breaking in her eyes. "So you're telling me no. Again."
"That's the way it has to be."
She glanced over my shoulder. Terric was still in his office watching the sun rise on the end of his career. Dash and Clyde had closed themselves in Dash's smaller office.
No help there.
"Shame," she began. "You could give me a list of names, and I'll take it from there. I can stay out of the way. Out of your way, out of the way of the police investigation. Please. You won't even see me."
There she was again, the woman behind the mask. The one who was willing to do anything to see that her brother's killer was taken down. The one who rescued purple turtles for babies.
"Who says I don't want to see you?" I said softly.
"Do you?"
What was I thinking? The best thing I could do for her—the best thing I could do for anyone—was keep them far away from me and my hunger.
"Well, we do have a lunch date," I said, trying to keep it light.
"Yes," she said. "We do."
"I'm not going to give you any information, though," I said.
"I understand that. I'm sure we'll find something else to talk about."
"Good. Oh, and, Dessa, if I were you, I'd give up on the revenge business."
She shook her head and lifted her hand away from my knee. "No," she said quietly, "you wouldn't."
I gave her half a smile before she turned to walk away. She was absolutely right. When it came to revenge, there was nothing on this earth that could stop me.
# Chapter 12
Dessa said good-bye to Dash, got the address of the pizza place, and was gone.
"Maybe you should invest in a bulletproof vest," Dash said as he picked up the stray coffee cups and returned them to the coffee station.
"Wouldn't do me any good," I said. "I don't think she'd aim at my heart."
"Bulletproof jockstrap?"
I grinned. "Helmet. I think if I really crossed her, she'd take me down with one clean shot."
He chuckled and walked off tugging at the cuffs of his shirt. The windows were bright enough, there was no use denying day had arrived. The pulse of the city was pumping.
I sat at one of the empty desks and tried to push the spike of hunger away. Nothing here to consume, Flynn. No one deserved that kind of death.
I rolled my fingers, grinding the rings between them, the metallic scrape becoming a rhythm to cover the song of the living. I closed my eyes and tried to lose myself to it.
Dash set something down beside me with a clunk.
I opened my eyes.
"I hate this plant," he said.
Then he turned his back and walked toward the half-filled boxes by my old desk and started packing again.
I glanced down at the plant. A fern, I think. Did a check on the room: Eleanor wandering between desks, Terric and Clyde standing between the offices, talking quietly, Dash packing crap out of my desk.
No one was watching me.
I took a breath. Control would be good. Focused on the fern. This, just this one plant, was all the life I could have. So I was going to savor every damn frond.
I dragged the fingertip of my left hand gently along one arching branch of the thing, drawing out the life slowly, leaf by leaf, all the way to the arrow-sharp end, draining it, killing it. Reducing it to fragile brown bones.
I licked my lips, and my finger trembled just a bit as I moved on to the next branch. Repeated the process. Then again. And again. Slow as I could. Like a ritual. Like this would be the last life I'd ever taste. Like it could fill the endless hungry hole inside me.
Didn't work. Nothing stopped the hunger.
Still, it was something. An offering to the monster. Enough to keep me in the clear for a few more minutes.
Which, really, was as good as it was going to get.
"...or are you going to walk?" Terric was asking as he strode across the room.
I glanced up, then around. Yep, he was talking to me.
About that time he noticed the dead plant next to me. His expression shifted from annoyed to something else.
"I'll drive," he said a little more gently. "Dash, I'm sorry to leave you with the packing. I'll try to be back this afternoon."
Dash gave Terric a smile. "The last thing you need to worry about right now is paperwork," he said. "I got this. Good luck at the meeting."
"See you boys soon," Clyde said.
"Shame?" Terric pointed toward the door. "Let's go."
So we went. Hallway, elevator, street with people headed to work, headed to breakfast, headed home, and finally, his car.
I ducked in, my heart pounding too hard.
"Are you . . ."
"I'm hungry," I said.
"Do you want—"
"No. Don't. Just don't talk to me for the drive."
Terric started the car. That was the last of the world I paid attention to other than Eleanor's cold hand resting against the back of my neck, which did some little good to cool the fire burning in me.
I closed my eyes behind my sunglasses and pushed the life around me away, far away.
If I could disappear in my head for a year, it wouldn't be long enough.
Came to with the scent of bacon filling my senses.
Opened my eyes. I was still sitting in the passenger's side of the car. The engine was not running. The car was parked. Eleanor was nowhere to be seen.
"Morning," Zayvion said. He was sitting in the driver's side of the car with a plate piled high with bacon. A fresh cup of coffee steamed in the cup holder.
"This is . . . odd," I said.
"Eat," he said. "You're not going into that inn until you do."
He shoved the plate of bacon at me, and I took it because, hey, free bacon. "Why?" I asked after I folded and ate three slices at once.
"You tuned out on the way over here. Terric said you needed food. There's coffee." He pointed.
I reached over, took the coffee, drank. Lots of sugar, lots of cream. Just how I liked it. Come to think of it, the bacon was just how I liked it too.
"I was just resting my eyes," I said.
"Bullshit," Zay said. His brown eyes were flecked with gold. So he was a little angry. Or ready to call on magic. Maybe ready to shut me down.
He was a good man.
"Do I look that dangerous, mate?"
He took a minute before he answered, then, "Yes. Terric said you haven't been eating. And you're having trouble controlling magic."
"And you believed him?"
"Is he wrong?"
I gulped down coffee, set the cup on my knee. "He worries too much. And is upset about losing his job."
"That's not what I asked you," Zay said. "Are you listening to me, Shame?"
"Of course."
He gave me a look. I stopped, put the bacon down, wiped my fingers on my jeans, and turned toward him, pressing my shoulder against the door. "You have all the attention I have left, Jones. What?"
"Allie's pregnant."
Holy. Shit.
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Shut it. Tried again. "Hell yes! Congratulations, mate! That's . . . It's yours, right?"
He punched my arm. Hard.
"Ow!"
"Of course it's mine," he said.
"I'm . . . without words. Damn. This is great news. Happy news. Mr. Jones is going to be a papa. How's that sitting with you?"
Some of the anger and tension drained out of him, replaced by a kind of nervousness I hadn't seen since we were teens. "I'm thrilled?" He nodded, and exhaled. "A little terrified at times."
"And Allie? How's she taking it?"
He smiled. That head-over-heels-in-love look that hadn't faded in all these years shone up the place. "She's amazing. Calm. Happy. Beautiful."
"So what does this happy news have to do with bacon?"
"She's in the inn. My pregnant wife is in there, Shame. And I need you to be in control when you're around her. We're taking precautions until she gets through her first trimester with the baby. She and I aren't using magic. Not together. Not at all, so far. The doctors . . . There isn't any information on how breaking magic will affect an unborn baby. So we're being careful. Very careful. And I need to know you won't hurt her."
I could get mad at that. My best friend didn't trust me. But he was right to be worried about this. He was right to keep his baby and Allie safe from me.
"So?" Zay said. "How are you doing with Death magic? Really."
"It pulls pretty hard." I picked up my coffee cup but didn't drink. "I can stay ahead of the hunger. I can stay ahead of the push to use it . . . let it use me. So far I haven't done anything . . . certifiably evil. Food helps. Small destructions are good. The rings help." I lifted my hand to show him them.
"Are you in control right now?"
"Yes." I was not lying. I wouldn't lie about this. Zay knew it.
"Good. Finish eating. The Overseer is waiting."
I shoved the rest of the bacon in my mouth and took another drink of coffee. It was almost cold now. I'd been draining the heat from it while it was in my hand.
I drank it down cold, then nodded. "I'm good."
He took one last hard look at me. I must have passed muster, because he opened the door and got out of the car.
I left the plate and cup in the car, mostly because I knew it would bother Terric, and pushed my sunglasses closer to my eyes. Looked around.
Huh. We were in the parking lot of my mother's restaurant and inn. There weren't any cars here that I didn't recognize, which meant we were having a private meeting. Zay stopped next to me, a mountain of heat and life.
Man burned like a torch. More so now because he was tied to Allie, to her life, and to the new life inside her.
It was beautiful, really. Rare to see. And I was determined not to let that fall apart because of me.
We walked across the gravel to the door. I paused before opening it.
"How do I look?" I asked him.
He knew what I was asking. Was I throwing death vibes? Was I leaking Death magic?
Zay put a hand on my shoulder. Heavy. Wide. Hot.
I didn't pull on the life in him. Not a single drop of all that gorgeous, rich life. His life.
He waited a second, then nodded. "You're good, Shame."
"Good? Come on, now. You know I am the best, Z." I gave him a grin.
One eyebrow rose. "You're all right."
"The lies coming out of your mouth." I pushed on the door. "I do not know how she puts up with you."
"It's a little thing called love," Zayvion said so quietly I almost didn't hear him. "Can't run from it, can't deny it."
"Sure I can."
"Now who's lying?" he said.
We were in the main room. Warm. Smelled of breakfast food, bread, and pies or something sweet being baked for the afternoon crowd, with just a note of sausage or bacon.
The tables that lined windows and filled the high-ceiling and wood-beamed dining area were covered in dark green cloths, and centered with flowers. Chairs were wooden, floor was the original from when the old place had been a train station.
Sitting at one of the larger tables was the Overseer, Terric, Allie, and Victor.
"Morning, everyone," I called out cheerily. "How goes the plotting and planning?"
"Good morning, Shamus," Victor said.
Victor was old enough to be my father. I thought of him as my uncle, really. Gray haired, he wore heavy glasses that let him mostly get around on his own since he'd lost nearly all of his eyesight from the magical showdown before the apocalypse.
He had on a suit jacket, shirt, no tie. Looked like he was drinking tea. At his left was Terric, who gave Zay a look, then turned to watch me. Next to him was Allie, and she was beaming.
I didn't know how I had missed it at the meeting just yesterday morning. But the woman glowed—literally. The life and, yes, magic, inside her was luminescent.
I gave her a big smile. "Al, you little vixen, you. What's the good news, love?"
She pushed away from the table and walked right on over to me. Unafraid, that woman. She never disappointed. "Did Zay tell you?"
"He did. You're going to be a mum, eh?"
She nodded, and the smile lit her eyes. "I am. How do you feel about being an uncle?"
"Over the moon."
"Good," Zayvion said. "How do you feel about being a godfather?"
That, I did not expect. "What? Are you joking?"
"No," Allie said. "We are not. Would you be our child's godfather, Shame?"
"Yes," I said. "Of course. If you want me to be."
And then Allie put her arms around me and gave me a hug.
Lord.
I clamped a fist around my hunger and put my arms around her like she was made of eggshells. I was determined I'd drink the life out of the building and every tree for an acre around before I so much as touched the life in her.
My heart slowed to a low, dragging beat. A beat I controlled.
Zay, just behind Allie's shoulder, watched me. That look told me he'd take me down before I hurt her.
Good man.
She let go of me. Was still smiling as Zay stepped up and put his arm over her shoulder.
"We should celebrate," I said, letting go of my control enough that my heart stuttered through a beat or two before it got its rhythm back. "Whiskey all around!"
"It's six o'clock in the morning," Terric said. "How about we have coffee and pie?"
"Spoilsport," I said.
"What kind of pie?" Allie asked.
"For you and that godbaby of mine," I said, "any pie you want."
"I'll see what they have," Zay said.
And then he walked off to the kitchen, leaving Allie behind with us.
Correction: leaving Allie behind with me.
He hadn't given me a higher compliment in<|fim_middle|>?" I asked.
"Then people will die. People you care about. Oh, don't look so surprised. It isn't personal. I am doing what I must to survive, though I will enjoy it."
He smiled. "I have orders to kill the people standing in their way. You're standing in their way, Shame. You and . . . others I would love to see dead. And if you don't find her, I will do more than just kill your friends. I will destroy everything you've ever touched. Everyone you've ever touched. It won't matter that you carry Death magic. I'm the one with my finger on the trigger of the gun. And I will make your every breath a study in pain and misery."
He glanced at his watch again. "You don't have much time. Maybe a day. Maybe less. And you'll have to be sharp, Shame. You will have to be much, _much_ better than this . . . pitiful wreck you've become if you are going to save her. To stop me."
His watch beeped once and he jumped just slightly. "Out of time. And so are you." He tugged a needle out of his shirt pocket, bit the plastic cover off it, then leaned forward and stabbed me in the neck.
Oh, I was so going to kill the slimy little fucker for this.
"This is just the start of what they have to control magic users. To control people changed by magic. Enjoy the ride."
Maybe I'd convince Terric to bring him back to life so I could kill him twice.
The room swirled like water down a toilet bowl. I watched Eli. Watched something that looked like a hole in space—a gate—open up behind him with a hard snap of electricity. Watched as he stood and was yanked backward by men in lab coats and face masks I could not see through.
Then the gate was gone. Eli was gone. And so was my mind.
# Chapter 15
Flashes of images: the parking lot in darkness. Trees. Underbrush rustling with animals that fell deathly still as I passed.
Flashes of sensation: gravel cutting my feet, wind on my bare chest and back, blood on my fingers, my lips.
Flashes of sounds: forest, the river, cars. Eventually, my own breathing. Too loud. And then: voices.
First too many voices. A bar, a club, laughter, anger, lust. The rhythmic pound of music. Heat I could consume. Life I wanted and could have. If I stepped over the threshold.
Then only one life, sweet and burning in front of me: Dessa.
"Shame," she said through my pain, around the finger-painted slide of colors and agony that made up the world. "You can't go in there. You're safe. Safe with me."
The world pushed past me. Life roaring by like a thundering wave. Maybe she was still there. I didn't know.
A scream of colors slashed me to the bone. Then everything went black.
"Don't move."
Was that Dessa? It sounded like her. I could smell her perfume, a burst of vanilla and sweet spices. Could feel her strong, beating heart. A singular, pure note.
"You're going to be okay," she said.
Felt the soft release of her hand lifted from my hip. The hushed chirp of a cell phone dialing. Footsteps retreated. And then the engine of a car rolled to life.
I was alone. Alone with my pain.
"Hey, Shame."
Darkness parted. Light poured over me. Terric's voice. Terric's light.
I wanted to tell him I thought I might be really screwed up this time. That he should get far, far away from me. I wanted to tell him there was a reason for the state I was in. That someone, someone whose name I could not remember, had done something to me. But my thoughts dissolved as I tried to stack them into order and form.
This was not good.
Fear slipped between each breath I struggled to take. Fear that if I was losing my mind, the monster in me would devour every living thing. Even him.
"I got you now," Terric's words said, falling like soft snow around me. "You're going to be all right."
His hands touched me—one on my arm, one on my chest. I shuddered as that light pushed away the darkness and pain, holding the worst of it away.
"Just breathe," he said. "I've got you."
So I closed my eyes, or I hoped I did. And breathed.
Maybe we moved, maybe we stood there. Maybe this was all a dream. Terric's words drifted around me, soothing, cooling. In them was comfort and peace.
There was no fighting it. I didn't want to.
I breathed his words. His light wrapped me in gentle arms. And all the world disappeared.
• • •
I gasped, opened my eyes. Tried to push up onto my feet.
A hand appeared out of nowhere and pressed against my chest so hard my shoulder blades sank into the cushions at my back.
Cushions?
"Stay down," Terric said.
"Where the hell?" I blinked, swallowed. Whatever drugs Eli had used on me left the taste of vomit in my mouth. I felt like I'd been run through a meat tenderizer. Twice.
"You're at my house," Terric said. "In my living room. It's the middle of the night—"
"Two o'clock in the morning," another man's voice said.
"—and," Terric continued, "you've been hurt. Do you understand me, Shame?"
I blinked again. The room slipped in and out of focus. Finally cleared.
Terric sat next to me in a padded chair. His hand gripped my upper arm, applying a slight pressure so I remained seated.
He wore a gray tank top and dark blue pajama bottoms. Barefoot, hair a little messy like he'd just gotten out of bed.
Middle of the night. Of course he'd been in bed. I was all about the smart right now, wasn't I?
I tried my brain out on the rest of the room. It'd been a while since I'd been over to his house. Instead of the fine photography he usually had on display, the walls were covered in bold, ugly abstracts and a huge TV screen swallowed up the corner by the window where he used to keep his favorite reading chair. Even so, I was indeed sitting on his couch in his living room.
Standing behind him was the man I'd seen in the car with him: buzz-cut light brown hair, narrow face, and brown eyes set too wide. Jeremy.
Jeremy scowled at me, his arms crossed. He had on a black T-shirt, flannel over that, and jeans. Couldn't see his feet, but I'd guess his shoes were on.
I could not guess whether he had just arrived or was headed out the door.
From the look on his face, I knew he and I were not friends. Not by a long shot.
No, we were enemies.
So Dessa and Dash had been right about him.
"Shame?" Terric said again. "Can you understand me?"
"Yes," I said. Talking took more effort than it should. I didn't think the drugs had done the last of their work on me.
"What happened?" he asked.
Jeremy scoffed. "You have to ask? He's wasted."
"Jeremy," Terric said quietly, "I wasn't talking to you."
"He's a waste, Terric. You want to do something for him, dump his ass in rehab."
"He's staying here," Terric said.
"Fuck that. Aren't you done with this piece of crap? After everything he's done to you?"
"Jeremy," Terric snarled. "Get out."
Lots of anger in that Jeremy. I was following along, but the conversation was going by so quickly that by the time I pulled together a comment, they had moved on.
"You can't just pretend this is normal, Terric. You can't ignore what he is. Look at him. He's a junkie piece of crap, baby. Win some, lose some. You lost him a long time ago. Let it go."
Terric stood, and I tipped my head back to see what he was going to do.
He was looking down at me.
I gave him a smile. I'd seen that anger before.
Thought about putting together some words to warn ol' Jeremy that he was about to get his ass handed to him on a platter, but figured he'd catch on soon enough.
Terric turned so he blocked my view of Jeremy. "Leave. Now." Two words. Words that Jeremy really ought to listen to.
I actually hoped Jeremy would push it. It had been a while since I'd seen Terric punch someone in the face.
"Please, Terric." Jeremy leaned toward him, the chair Terric had been sitting in between them. "He has you where he wants you. He's preying on your sympathy. You have to be strong, remember? We talked about this. All he wants is to use you—"
"Out."
"—use your magic for whatever rush can score—"
"Jeremy." Terric pointed to the door. "Leave now before I do something to end this. End us."
I could cut the tension with a knife. If, you know, I could actually lift my hand. Or make a fist tight enough to hold a knife.
Also, if I had a knife.
Jeremy looked past Terric to glare at me.
I winked at him.
Oh-ho, that did not go over well.
He used a few choice four-letter words and stormed across the room. A door slammed shut. Aw. I hurt his feelings.
Terric was still standing with his back toward me.
He shifted his shoulders just a bit, as if taking the weight of the damage that might have just been done to their relationship.
I was, once again, not a lot of help in his love life.
He turned to me. The anger wasn't gone, but it was under control. Set aside for now. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
"Super," I managed.
"Are you thirsty? Do you hurt?"
"Yes." I answered both questions, even though I knew he could tell I was still in pain. Just one of the many joys of being tied to another person's soul: he hurt, you hurt.
He sat back down in the chair with a sigh and handed me the glass of water from the side table.
It took me two tries to get my hand around the glass. Those were some long odds I'd actually get any of the water in my mouth.
"Here." He hadn't let go of the glass yet. So he stood, sat next to me, and pressed the glass back in my hand.
Then he lifted my hand with the glass to my mouth. Helping me drink.
It was embarrassing. But I needed that water. And needed the help. I gulped as much of it as I could before I had to breathe again.
Terric tipped the glass away, waited for me to stop gasping, then helped me drink the rest.
"What happened?" he asked as he placed the glass on the coffee table in front of the couch.
"Eli," I said.
Terric froze. "Where?"
"My room. Shot me with a tranq." I swallowed, trying to get my brains in order. "Jesus, hate this." Pointed at my head.
"Eli was in your room," Terric repeated. "And he shot you with a tranq gun? Did he say anything?"
"Lots. The usual crazy." I was out of air. Worked on filling my lungs. "He cut up Joshua just to get our . . . attention. Just to fuck with us." I was shaking now, a tremble I couldn't seem to get under control.
Terric made a blanket appear from somewhere nearby, draped it over my legs and up to my neck.
"What else?" he asked.
"Said he wanted me—us—to save him. Find him. Save her." Stopped for breathing again. This was getting old.
"Find who?" Terric shifted off the couch and knelt on the floor in front of me, then settled there cross-legged.
"What are you doing?" I asked, suddenly alarmed.
"Your feet are a bloody mess," he said. "You showed up on my doorstep with no shirt, no shoes, and looked like you'd walked all the way from the inn to here, barefoot."
"Did I?"
"You may as well have. Dessa called. She found you at a bar downtown. Brought you here. I'm going to heal your feet."
"Wait. Don't."
He wrapped his hand around my left ankle. I didn't think I could pull away if I tried.
I tried anyway.
Nope.
"Just tell me what else he said."
A soft warmth spread out over my foot, which was a far cry better than the pounding ache I'd been unsuccessfully ignoring.
"Anytime now, Flynn," he said.
Huh. I must have drifted. He set my left foot down carefully, then picked up my right foot by the ankle.
"Said Dessa knows where he is. Knows what's going on. Said he's a prisoner. Going to kill everyone. In two days if we don't find him. Stop him. Save her."
"Her who?"
Terric put my right foot down, and that lack of pain made me realize how damn exhausted I was. "His soul."
"Fuck," Terric breathed. "So he does have a Soul Complement. And they're using her against him?"
"I think so," I said. "Or that just might be what he wants us to think." I wouldn't put it past Eli Collins to manipulate and use his Soul Complement for whatever dark scheme or experiment he was involved in. "Or maybe he's telling the truth and someone is using her against him."
Terric didn't say anything for a bit. Just sat there, cross-legged, with one hand absently on my bloody bare foot. "Did he say who he's going to kill?"
I nodded, which sent the room swinging. Not doing that again. "Anyone who stands in their way. All of us. You. Me."
Terric took a deep breath, let it out.
"So Jeremy is unhappy," I said.
"He was being an ass. He doesn't like you," Terric added. "And he is the least of my problems right now."
"Am I the most?" I asked, trying to pull together a smile. I wasn't sure if both sides of my mouth were working.
He looked up at me. "Always." He shook his head, as if trying to figure me out. "What the hell were you thinking, walking half a city barefoot?"
"I don't remember. Any of it." A hard image of blood on my lips flashed through my mind. "Might have hurt people."
"I already thought of that. Sent people to see if you did any damage. Did he look sane?"
"Collins?"
"Yes."
"Not really. Desperate and crazy."
"Not a winning combination," he said.
"Maybe for him," I said. If you believed the records on the man, Collins had done a lot of brilliant things while being stark raving mad.
Terric stood. Walked away. By the time I began to wonder where he'd gone, he was walking back, bare feet quiet in the thick carpet.
"Whatever he shot you up with isn't out of your system yet," he said. "You want a doctor?"
"Doctors don't work on me."
"You're not inhuman, Shame."
I didn't say anything. This was an old argument.
He must not have expected me to say yes to the doctor anyway. He had a pillow in one hand and another blanket in the other. "Then you should get some sleep," he said. "I'll take care of . . . whatever needs to be done until morning. You've got four hours."
"Find Dessa," I started.
"I will." He set the pillow on one side of me. "Lie down."
I worked on getting my legs to move. Lifted one with the help of my hands. Then the next. Didn't have the energy to do anything else.
Just sat there staring at my feet stretched out on the couch in front of me.
Terric bent, putting his mouth near my ear. "Don't argue and make this harder," he said. He slid one hand and arm behind my back, and the other under my knees.
I was about to be manhandled. It was as physically close to him as I'd been in years.
I shut my mouth and stared at the ceiling, trying not to say anything, trying not to think anything while he half lifted, half slid me into a prone position.
I couldn't have done it on my own. Not right away, anyway. He didn't say any more about it. Didn't mention how weak and wrecked I was.
Just straightened, retrieved the blanket, spread it out over me. I shivered from the pocket of cold air followed by the warmth of the blanket settling around me.
"I'll put some water on the table," he said. "If you need the bathroom, try to wait until morning. I don't think your feet can take the walk, and there's enough of your blood on my carpet I have to clean up already."
His voice was fading. Walking away, I thought. Couldn't see him. My eyes were closed.
"Ter?" I whispered.
"I'm here." Close. Sitting in the chair again. I thought I smelled tea.
"Thank you," I said. "I . . . I'm sorry."
"Don't," he said. "Whatever you're apologizing about, I won't accept it until you can tell me in the morning light, looking me straight in the eye."
"You are a picky bastard," I mumbled.
"Yes," he said, "I am."
And then darkness and warmth swallowed me whole and dragged me down.
# Chapter 16
"Wake up, Shame," Terric said. "Time for food."
What the hell was Terric doing in my room? I opened my eyes.
Correction: what the hell was I doing in Terric's house?
"French toast, sausage," he continued. "Think you can eat?"
I lifted a hand, rubbed my face. My arm was sore; the side of my neck felt swollen, bruised. And when I breathed in too deep, something in my chest scraped my bones.
So, not the worst I'd ever woken up feeling.
"Food," I repeated. "My mouth tastes like ass."
"Spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Be careful on your feet."
That brought it all back to me. Or at least the clear images. Half of what I remembered was pain, blurry flashes, and a muddle of sensations and sounds.
"So he drugged me," I said.
Terric had showered. His hair was still a little damp, combed back, and dripping just a bit on the shoulders of his white T-shirt. He also wore jeans and boots, one ankle propped on his other knee. He was drinking tea from what I knew was very expensive china.
He lifted his cup toward the tray of food on the coffee table. French toast, coffee, sausage, and apple butter.
"Not going to feed you. Unless you want me to."
"No," I said. "I don't."
I bent, groaned as I pulled the tray over to me, setting it across my legs. Didn't spill a drop.
If Terric was talking, only the walls were listening. I didn't hear a thing while I consumed every bite, lick, and morsel of breakfast.
I felt like I hadn't eaten for months. And after I'd plowed through the food, I felt a lot better.
"Did you spike it with . . ." I wiggled my fingers over my empty plate.
"No. You walked for miles last night, Shame. Anyone would be hungry. Also, I am a hell of a cook."
"Yeah, you are."
I scraped the last bit of tart and sweet apple butter off the plate with my fork, licked the tines clean, then set the tray back on the table. Noticed the coffee carafe, cream and sugar there.
Refilled my cup. Sat back and took a drink.
"Did you find Dessa?" I asked.
"Not yet. The Hounds are looking."
"Try the inn."
"Why?"
"She's renting a room. Did you tell Clyde about this?"
"Just that Collins contacted you last night and said we have a day or less before more people die."
I thought that through. "So you didn't tell him he wanted us to find his Soul Complement? It's not like you to lie, Terric. That's my shtick."
Terric drank his tea with that quiet grace that reminded me of elegant people in old movies. "He could have gone to anyone," he said. "Why did Eli go to you, Shame?"
"Fuck all if I know."
"Maybe he still thinks we're the head of the Authority?" Terric said.
"Everyone knows _you_ were the head of the Authority. But no. He made it clear he doesn't think the Authority has any power."
"If I tell Clyde Eli wanted us to find his Soul Complement, Clyde's going to want that handled through proper channels. What do you suppose that is?"
I rubbed my fingers across my scalp. God, I was filthy. "I don't know. Call the cops? Start an investigation?"
"We're already investigating Eli. The police already know he's a suspect in Joshua's death. They're already looking for him. The Authority knows he's behind Joshua's death. We're looking for him."
"So . . . what? The police would question me, I guess."
"Detective Stotts would lock you up," Terric said. "For your own safety. Maybe as bait for Eli, but mostly to keep you safe. Plus, you wouldn't be out barefoot on the streets destroying swaths of innocent horticulture from one end of Portland to the other."
I cringed. "I killed plants?"
"Trees, bushes, grass, greenhouses. Took out a neighborhood garden off of Lombard."
I waited. Waited for him to tell me how many people I'd killed.
"None," he said over the rim of his cup, guessing correctly what I was thinking.
"There was blood on my mouth. In my mouth."
"I think a few raccoons and possums met their maker."
"Are you sure? There were people, a lot of people." The memory was chaotic, but I knew it wasn't a dream. "A bar?"
"No missing persons reports, no unusual injury reports at the hospitals. No unknown causes of death. Not bad for being half out of your mind."
I closed my eyes. Realized my heart had been beating. Hard. With fear. Worry. Terric wouldn't lie to me. Not about this. Not about the monster inside me.
I sat there for a bit, until my heartbeat quieted.
"So if we're not telling Clyde that Eli tried to kill me so I would agree to help him, what's next?" I asked.
"You," he said, "are going to take a shower because you reek. I have some clothes I think will fit."
"Jeremy's clothes?" I asked, my eyes still closed.
"No." Tight. Didn't want to talk about it.
So, of course, I did. "Other than thinking I'm a waste of skin, is there some specific reason he hates me? We haven't met before last night, have we?"
"You haven't met," Terric said quietly.
"He seems to know a lot about me."
A pause. Then, "He thinks he does. I've . . . said a few things."
"Bad things?"
"You make it hard to say good things, Shame."
"True."
Silence again.
"You know his family is involved in Blood magic," I said.
"Used to be involved," he said. "Blood magic isn't what it used to be."
"It's not nothing," I said. "With the right spell carved in blood, added to the right drug, you can still get results. People pay big money for those customized highs."
"You're telling me he's a drug dealer."
"I'm telling you he's a part of the drug syndicate, Terric. The Black Crane. And the only thing he wants from you is your magic."
Terric didn't say anything for a minute.
"Where are you getting your information?" he asked far too calmly.
"I know people."
"You don't know him, Shame. He's not like that."
"He jumped pretty quickly to accuse _me_ of using you."
"And that makes him a part of a drug cartel?" he snapped. Then, with a lowered voice, "Shame. I don't need two jealous men on my hands."
So much for him listening to me. That was fine. I hadn't expected him to. He cared about Jeremy, I knew that. I could take care of Jeremy on my own. And really, maybe it was better Terric didn't know about it.
I smiled. My eyes were still closed.
"What?" he said.
"Jealousy is for people who know they can't hold on to what they want."
"My statement stands," he said.
I opened my eyes, rolled my head so I could see him. "No. I can't lose you, Terric. Not if I tried. Which is pretty much my default mode, come to think of it."
He narrowed his eyes. "Why is that, Shame? Why do you insist, still, after all these years, to close me out?"
I sat up, put a little weight on my feet. Nothing popped, split, or bled. So I stood. Managed it well enough. Took a step toward the bathroom. And another.
Ouch.
"You're not even going to talk about it?" he asked.
I paused, put one hand out on the wall to keep my balance. "Talking doesn't seem to be our thing."
"It needs to become our thing. We're a part of each other's lives. Whether you want to acknowledge that or not."
I turned so I could see him.
"Lives?" I shook my head. "Deaths. That's what we're a part of, Terric. Each other's deaths. When we're together, one of us always gets hurt. The more we are together, the more we hurt each other."
He watched me for a moment. "Tell that to your healing feet."
"Jesus." I pushed away from the wall and made my way to the bathroom. "You're impossible," I said too quietly for him to hear.
He answered me anyway. "No. I'm right."
Found the bathroom. It was depressingly clean and color-coordinated. Started the shower, stripped, and stepped in the water. Saw something bright out of the corner of my eye. Eleanor, sitting on the sink.
"Hey," I said. "Thanks for waking me."
She floated up so she could peek over the top of the shower door and down at me. I didn't care that she would see me naked. We'd been together for so long, she'd seen me do many worse things than bathe.
She pointed at her neck about the same spot where Eli stabbed me with the needle.
"It hurts," I said. "Feels like someone sewed a golf ball under my skin."
She pointed at her chest.
"That hurts too."
Shook her head, disappeared, then faded through the shower door so she was standing in the shower with me. The water rushed through her, but didn't stir her hair, or dampen her glowing skin. She pointed at my heart, and pressed just the tip of her finger there.
"My heart?"
She drew the letter _T_ , her cold touch leaving goose pimples across my wet skin.
"Don't," I said, pushing her hand away, even though my hand just passed right through her. "He's the last thing I want to talk about."
She stepped back and eased through the door. I scrubbed my head, face, and body. Tipped my feet so I could see how bad off the soles were. Bruised black and purple-red, lots of long cuts from heel to toe that were scabbed and not weeping, thanks to Terric. What had I done? Walked across glass?
I washed the cuts as gently as I could, then rinsed and got out.
Pulled a towel that was folded on the edge of the sink and rubbed my head.
Good. God. It was the softest towel I'd ever touched. I shut out everything but that sensation—soft cotton drifting across my skin—whisking the water away.
If it was wrong to have carnal feelings for a towel, I didn't want to be right.
Terric had an eye for luxury. Lived his life like it was worth doing right.
Maybe he had something there. We were all going to die. Might as well savor whatever time we had.
Maybe it was the towel, maybe it was thoughts about mortality, but I found myself thinking about Dessa and smiling. Terric said she'd dropped me off. So she'd been following me.
Who knew I'd have the hots for a ferret-smuggling stalker girl with an overactive desire for revenge?
If she'd dropped me off, then that meant she'd approached me when I was out of my mind and devouring all the life around me.
Correction: stalker girl with an overactive desire for revenge and a hell of a lot of guts.
She'd been with me when I was dangerously uncontrolled. I could have killed her. And yet I hadn't. Or at least I thought she was okay.
She also hadn't come inside with me so we could ask her what Eli said she knew: namely where the hell he, or his Soul Complement, was being held prisoner.
If Dessa was making it a point to keep an eye on me, she should be nearby. It seemed strange that Terric hadn't found her yet. Maybe she had a lead on Eli and was following it.
Great. She might be walking right into a situation that would get her killed.
I looked around for the clothes he said might fit me. Spotted a folded gray T-shirt, a heavy brown sweater, and faded blue jeans. A belt was set out next to the jeans. Not exactly my colors, which were, by the way, black, but better than being naked.
I shook out the pants, put them on. A little long, but not by much, too loose at the waist. Belt took care of that. I shouldered into the T-shirt, fit me fine, then the sweater.
Everything smelled like Terric. The colors looked like Terric.
I toweled off the mirror. Got a good look at myself while brushing back my hair.
Dark green eyes a little bloodshot. Needed a shave. The bones of my cheeks and jaw were squared and prominent. However, even in the bulky chocolate brown sweater, I looked like I could kick ass and take names.
Not my colors. But not bad.
I looked around for socks. Nothing. Then I pissed and left the bathroom.
Terric was on the phone. Pacing. Couldn't tell who he was talking to.
I started looking for my shoes. Remembered I'd come over barefoot. Crap.
Terric stopped pacing. Glanced over at me. One look at me and he paused a second in his good-bye, which made me grin.
Damn straight I was worth looking at.
He pocketed his phone. "I know it's only brown, but damn, it's been a long time since I've seen you in a color, Shame. You should wear colors more often."
"I do wear colors: black, coal, ebony."
He smiled. "Sit. I want to look at your feet."
"This foot obsession you've got going?" I said. "Unhealthy."
I sat in the nearest chair and propped both my feet up on the coffee table. Realized something that had been nagging me. "Your place smells like cigarette smoke."
"Does it?"
I took a deep breath. "A bit."
"Hm."
"Why? Did you take up smoking?"
"No. Jeremy smokes." He sat on the couch, bent a bit so he could see the bottom of my feet. It really was sort of weird having someone stare with such interest at my heels and arches. "I've told him not to, but." He shrugged, then put his hand on my ankle, firmly.
"That's—" I started.
"Don't," he said.
So I didn't. But if I had finished the thought it would have run along the line that Terric hated when his things smelled like smoke. And after that it would have gone down the path that his house didn't look like he lived here anymore.
The things that always made it feel distinctly his, things like his photography, his collection of hardbound books, and the wall that used to display the pictures of all of his many—and I do mean many—brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews and cousins, were gone. Wiped away. Replaced with the abstract art. Changed.
Jeremy had made Terric change for him. Or maybe Terric had done it willingly.
I was no expert on relationships. Still, this total takeover didn't seem . . . healthy.
I had plenty of energy to pull my feet away from Terric's grasp this time. But I didn't. The magic that Terric called upon was like sliding my feet into warm, soothing oil. And since I was in possession of most of my gray matter this morning, I paid very close attention to what he was doing and how he was doing it.
Mankind had wanted to use magic for healing for years on end. And while magic can help speed up the healing process, or support the body while it naturally heals, or ease the pain brought on by magical damage, I'd never seen anyone straight-out heal with magic.
Doctors used magic, yes. To assist and support surgeries and other medical procedures.
But that's not what Terric was doing.
Terric had his eyes closed and was whispering slightly. Not a spell, more like a mantra. Sounded like Latin and maybe a little French. I didn't know either well enough to take a guess at what he was using to keep his concentration sharp, but I knew that's what he was doing.
Also? My feet were glowing. Not the bright green-edged white that Terric usually called upon. This was the soft yellow of candlelight.
"No word on Dessa?" I said.
Terric didn't answer. Kept his concentration on the healing.
"That's strange, right? She's following me. Which means she should be close by."
Terric just kept whispering those words, guiding magic to knit my cuts and ease my bruises.
I was starting to feel good. Much better than I should feel after a night like last night.
Was this hurting Terric? One way to find out.
"Ter," I said, "open your eyes."
He did. Still whispering. That was a blank, empty look. Not feverish, not like he was thinking over some kind of complex calculations. Just inhuman, alien. Life magic was staring back at me, hungry and hollow.
There wasn't a scrap of Terric in those eyes.
I pulled both feet out of his grasp, stood, walked halfway across the room. "Stop it," I said.
He didn't seem to hear me, just frowned and stood, then came marching toward me. That glow in his eyes turned into a hard, hungry glint.
I knew the face of the monster in his bones. It was the twin to mine.
His fingers curled into claws as he spread one hand toward the floor, and the other toward my heart.
The bushes outside the house suddenly leaped against the windows, lashing and twisting and growing so fast they completely blocked the morning light.
Heat shot up my legs from my feet. My skin pricked like electricity was riding my nerves. And I felt my body _change._ Change into something the magic in Terric wanted it to be.
Oh, hell no.
"Terric, if you don't snap out of this I will shove Death magic down your throat."
I figured he could hear me, but I didn't know how much power Life magic had over him.
"No? Fine." I pulled on Death magic and let it whip toward the Life magic he was bleeding out.
The connection was electric. Literally. Dark and light magic clashed and exploded, the force of impact canceling both magics. The backwash rushed over me in a wave that should be agony, but was pure pleasure.
Soul Complements and magic. Heady stuff. If we continued using magic together like this, soon we'd be taking up residence in each other's brains. Then it was a real possibility we'd slide on over to insanity together—use magic to shape the world, shape the people around us, in any way we desired.
I'd fought Soul Complements who had used magic in that way—monsters who had brought the apocalypse to my city and nearly destroyed it. I'd kill us both before letting us become that.
I slipped off two of my Void stone rings and stepped up to him. I grabbed his hand—which finally got his full attention—and dropped the rings into his palm, closing his fingers over the rings.
"You got this," I said. "You can control it. Just take it down a tick, mate."
I stepped back, not wanting to risk our connection becoming any stronger for fear I'd be lost in it. He locked his hand around mine and didn't let go. "Just. Stay," he panted. "Give me a minute."
I stayed and gave him a minute.
He whispered something over and over. Maybe a spell, maybe a litany to focus his will.
At about the thirty-second mark, the rings in his palm that were scraping against the rings on my knuckles went hot. Then very cold.
The vegetation outside stopped writhing.
He dropped my hand. Ran fingers over his face, then hair. Finally held out the rings to me.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
He nodded, still not looking at me. "I'll get my necklace." His voice was a little rough.
Terric left the room. I slid my rings back into place like a man counting prayer beads.
"And some shoes for me!" I called out after him. "Or at least socks."
It took a few minutes, but I figured he needed them.
So did I. I hadn't gotten out of that unscathed. He had done something—no, the clash of our magics had done something—so that I could feel him. Usually I sensed his heartbeat. Now I could feel how he was breathing, and weirdly, I got an echo of what he was feeling—anger, sorrow, hunger.
Soul Complements.
I didn't like it.
When he came back, he was wearing the Void stone necklace over his T-shirt, his expression calm, his eyes just his eyes again. He was also holding up a pair of socks and the ugliest footwear I'd ever seen.
"What the hell is that?" I asked.
"UGGs."
"No."
"They're comfortable."
"No."
"They're all I have in the house that will fit you." He jiggled them a little, like I was some sort of cat who could be tempted by string.
"No."
"Shame, you can't walk around barefoot all day."
"If my only alternative are those boots, I can. Why do you even have those ugly things? Aren't your people supposed to be fashion forward?"
"My people?" he asked with a dangerous arc of his eyebrow.
"Graphic designers," I said.
"You wear the boots, or you walk to the car barefoot."
"Do you have real shoes in the car?"
"No. But if you stow the attitude and the mouth, I'll take you to a store and you can buy a pair."
"Take me to my place and I won't have to buy anything."
"That was Victor on the phone. He wants to talk to us. Immediately."
"Did he say what it was about?"
"No." He jiggled the boots again.
I strode over to him and grabbed them out of his hands. "If you give me one single word of shit about this . . ."
"Silent as a saint," he said.
I shoved my feet into the boots, which were, damn it all, comfortable.
"Not. One. Word." I stomped off to the door, ignoring Terric's grin.
# Chapter 17
Not a shoe store. Terric parked at a local Fred Meyer, a one-stop-shopping department store between his place and Victor's. I shuffled in, past the pumpkins in huge boxes outside the door, past the produce section with a colorful display of fruits and gourds. There was also a scarecrow, which might explain why Eleanor was suddenly drifting so sullenly beside me.
She didn't like Halloween, which, when you thought about it, was ironic. A ghost who didn't like the celebration of dead things. I figured it was because on that first Halloween, she and I had both held some hope that she might cross into death because they say the veil between the living world and death is the thinnest then.
I'd even taken her out to the graveyard with the Death magic well beneath it.
Other than me getting rained on, and her getting depressed, nothing had happened. Ever since, she'd been sad on Halloween.
I took the most direct route to the shoe section, kicked off the UGGs, and bought the first decent pair of work boots I could find. Nothing fancy, but if someone needed a tree cut down, I could probably handle it. I snapped the tags, shoved the UGG boots into the box, then started toward the checkout on the other end of the store.
Eleanor had drifted maximum distance from me. She was studying an end shelf filled with Halloween trinkets and decorations.
I took a couple steps, expecting her to follow. She stood there, bent just a bit, her long, ghostly hair covering her face as she stared at something in the shelf.
I walked around behind her, looked over her shoulder.
Jack-o'-lanterns, witches, ghosts with smiling faces, and a Frankenstein stein cluttered the shelf. But behind all the cheerful candy-colored decorations was a single statue. Made out of metal that had been treated to a green patina, it was the figure of a cloaked and cowled man, head tipped down, face hidden in the shadows. He held a scythe by the handle, the curved blade at his feet, as if he were too weary to lift it again. And spread wide across his back were angel wings.
The angel of death, grieving.
"You like it?" I asked her, not caring about the woman who looked up at me and hurried away.
Eleanor just shrugged one shoulder. But she did not look away from it.
I picked it up. Was impressed at the weight and craftsmanship.
"Let's go," I said softly.
Eleanor looked from me, to the statue, then back to me. She gave me a small smile.
I bought the boots, the statue, and a pack of cigarettes. Made my way toward the front of the store. Passed in front of a stockroom door and noted a guy walking out of it.
Walked past him before I heard the click.
I turned.
Did not expect the Taser in that man's right hand, nor the gun in his left. I also didn't expect the other two guys who strode out of the sporting goods and household paint aisles.
I called on magic, just as the guy with the guns raised them both and pulled a trigger.
Heads or tails. Would I be shot or electrocuted? Heads said bullets.
Before I could raise my hand for a spell, before I could lash out and drain their lives down, someone flipped a switch and a million volts of electricity blew through me.
Huh. It was tails: electrocution.
I came to being dragged away from bright lights and basketballs, and into the stale, cold stockroom.
Maybe another door went by. Then the two guys who had my arms over their shoulders dropped me into a chair.
I decided not to let them know I was conscious.
They stepped away and a new set of boots came closer.
"I know you're awake, Shamus," Jeremy said. "Don't make me shoot you to prove it to my men."
I opened my eyes, tipped my head back. He wasn't holding a gun, but the four other guys around me were.
Bullets are faster than magic. Even my magic.
"Some reason why you don't want to face me alone, Jeremy?" I asked. "That's an awful lot of firepower for a junkie piece of crap like me, don't you think?"
He was a good five feet away from me, and didn't come any nearer. "You have two options here." He started like I hadn't even been talking. "You either leave town, leave Terric, and leave me the hell alone, or we will kill you."
I rolled a shoulder and wondered if that blast of electricity and the drugs Eli had shot me up with were going to get in the way of me killing this prick.
"Really?" I said. "Is this how you Black Crane lads take care of your problems? Threats in department stores? Does anyone ever fall for that?"
Jeremy's eyes narrowed. "I could kill you before you took another breath."
"What's stopping you?" I asked. Really, I was curious.
From the fear that slipped across his eyes, I suddenly knew what it was. He wasn't sure I'd die. After all, I carried Death magic in my bones and that hadn't killed me. He probably thought a bullet or two wouldn't work either.
He'd be wrong.
I hoped.
"Let's get this straight," he said. "I am giving you one chance to get out of my sight, and out of our territory."
"I don't think Terric would like that," I said.
"Terric isn't your concern."
"Well, you're wrong about that, mate. Terric _is_ my concern. As a matter of fact"—I pushed up onto my feet to the accompaniment of his boys racking the slides and lifting their weapons toward my head—"you have suddenly made _yourself_ my concern. This is not a good move on your part."
I didn't wait for him to threaten me again. I didn't wait for him to snap his fingers so his minions would blow my brains out.
I let the monster free. Death magic lashed out, dark whips hooking tightly into each gunman, cutting down to bone, piercing organs. The rush of drawing on their lives rocked through me in a wave of adrenaline and orgasmic need.
In that split second, four men collapsed to the floor, unconscious, while Jeremy was reaching for the inside of his jacket.
"You pull a gun, and I will kill you," I said. No more nice. The monster in me was lapping down those men's lives, even while Eleanor was standing in front of me yelling at me to stop. I wasn't listening. I wanted more. I wanted Jeremy.
Jeremy smiled. Just half of his mouth cut upward to gave a quick flash of teeth. He wasn't a stranger to death. Didn't look afraid of me now. "What would Terric say if you killed me?"
"'My boyfriend? Again?'"
Okay, that was worth it. He blinked. All that smugness drained away.
"Here's how this goes," I said, strolling over to him. "You are going to go back to your bosses, and tell them that if the Black Crane crosses my path, or the path of any one of my friends, I will take it as a personal insult, and I will kill every single person involved in the organization. Every last person. You will tell them that Terric is no longer their toy. They, and you, are no longer allowed anywhere near him. You will tell them that I am watching and that I would be delighted—" I licked my lips and one of the men on the floor screamed and writhed. "—to remove them all, permanently, from this world."
"You think you have the power here?" His voice shook a little, but he managed some scorn. "Go home to your bottle, Shamus. You're nothing."
I nodded, thought about just how easy it would be to kill him, how easy it would be to kill whatever was left of those men on the floor.
Eleanor stood in front of me and pushed her hand on my chest.
No, _in_ my chest. Until her icy fingers wrapped around my heart.
Ow.
She shook her head and then pointed at the unconscious gunmen. Alive. Maybe alive. I didn't care.
But looking away from Jeremy gave him the time to pull his gun.
Well, that was stupid of me. Stupid of him too, come to think of it.
"You're a dead man, Shamus."
I laughed. He didn't know how true that was.
The fear rolling off him was palpable. He was sweating so hard I didn't know how he kept hold of the gun.
I reached out with magic.
His finger twitched. Bullets are fast. The silencer smothered the explosion.
Pain blew through my upper arm, as his shot went wide.
Jesus.
Eleanor was already on him, both hands around his gun hand. He stiffened from her icy touch, his eyes wide as his hand went numb.
I tore the gun from his useless hand, pulled the clip, and threw it across the warehouse. The pain in my left arm was excruciating, but I fed it to the Death magic inside me, pain from dying cells, torn nerves, ripped muscle, broken skin feeding my hunger.
A wash of pleasure rippled through me. It was wonderful. Also, nauseating.
"Wrong decision," I said to Jeremy.
Eleanor let go of his hand and advanced on me, angry. She mouthed, _No_ , then _Terric_ and _Now_.
Crap. I had no idea how long I'd been gone. I didn't want Terric to find me here, killing his boyfriend. He had said Victor wanted us right away. He must be looking for me by now.
Plus, I was bleeding.
"So," I said, "this was fun. You trying to kill me. But if you ever get in my way again, you'll be dead. I promise you that, mate."
I turned, started walking, and threw his gun in a trash can. "Do tell your bosses what I said."
"Fuck you."
I lashed out with magic and slapped his heart. Hard.
Heard him groan, then retch. Served the bastard right. I hoped he was having a seizure.
I pushed through the doors, then stuck one hand over my arm to stop the bleeding. It wasn't as bad as I expected. I think Death magic had cauterized it.
I took a little more care watching the people around me and finally headed outside again.
Just in case there were more gunmen watching me, I paused outside the front of the store and pulled the statue out of the bag I'd somehow kept ahold of, trying to look casual. There was a lot of blood drying on my hand.
No gunmen I could see. I scanned for signs of Dessa. If she was following me, she had gotten good at staying out of my line of sight.
Eleanor touched the back of my hand and pointed at the car. She hadn't seen any other gunmen either.
I lit a cigarette and crossed the parking lot. Eleanor stayed at a distance from me. She was still angry about me almost killing those men. I didn't know what to do about that.
I ducked into Terric's car. Chucked the UGGs in the backseat, then twisted and carefully propped the statue in the seat for Eleanor. "I'm sorry," I said to her.
She sat next to the statue and shook her head, her eyes sad. She didn't like it when I lost control.
"Then don't smoke in my car," Terric said.
"You made me wear those things." I turned back around and rolled down the window so I could exhale smoke. "You have to deal with the terrible, terrible trauma they caused me."
"For God's sake, Shame. UGG trauma?"
"Look at my hands. They're shaking." I held my hand out and rocked it slowly back and forth.
"You have blood on your hand."
"And on your sweater. Sorry about that."
"What happened? Are you bleeding?"
"Just a nick. My arm. Besides, aren't we late?"
"What. Happened."
"I ran into Jeremy."
"And?"
"We had a discussion."
"About?"
"He's part of the Black Crane, Terric, what do you think we talked about?"
"You don't know that for sure."
"Yes. I do. And you could know it too if you ran his record."
"I don't run records on my boyfriends."
"I think he was counting on that."
"What about your arm?"
"He shot me."
"What the hell?"
"Bad aim, though, I think it grazed." I rolled up the sleeve to look. Okay, so not just a graze. A thumb-sized angry red hole marked my upper biceps. When I twisted my arm to look at the back of it, I discovered the exit wound was twice as large.
"Crap," I said.
"Put out the cigarette."
I sighed. Threw it out the window. "Happy?"
"Thrilled." He pulled a lever to open the trunk, got out of the car, rummaged around back there, then got in the car, slamming the door shut behind him.
He had a red first aid bag.
"I don't want you healing me," I said.
"I'm not. I'm going to clean and bandage that so you stop bleeding on my interior."
He set about doing so with the efficiency of an emergency room doctor. It hurt. I didn't tell him, because I figured he already knew.
"What did you do to him?" he asked.
"Nothing."
Quieter: "What did he do to you?"
"Threatened me. Shot me. Tased me. You know, the usual."
"Tased you too?" He glanced up.
"Black Crane, Terric. Drugs and magic. He's the drugs, you're the magic. He wanted to make that clear to me."
"He said that? Exactly that?"
"He did not say exactly that. He did say he wanted me out of his territory and away from you."
"Shame—"
"Forget it," I said. "He might be someone you care about, but one: he shot me and two: he's using you. For himself, and for the Black Crane. So he and I have decided to agree to disagree."
"Which means what? You're both going to kill each other?"
I waited until he'd stuck a thick cotton pad on both wounds, then wrapped my arm in gauze he pulled tight. Didn't answer him. Because yeah, that was pretty much what we'd agreed upon.
"Have you seen Dessa?" I said to change the subject. "Or Davy?"
"No," he finally said, dropping the conversation. I hadn't expected that. Maybe he was having second thoughts about the man. He threw everything back into the bag and tossed it in the backseat. Then he started the car.
"Davy hasn't reported in to anyone," he said as he navigated out of the parking lot.
That was odd. Davy had said there was at least one Hound on each of us Soul Complements. I should have seen someone following us, and thought it would be him.
"Did she say anything when she dropped me on your doorstep?" I asked.
"Dessa?" He shook his head. "Just that she'd found you wasted and wandering and was leaving you at my door. Said you were my problem now."
"Now?"
"That was my reaction," he said. "Eli said she knows where he or his Soul Complement is?"
"Yep."
"Doesn't line up with her story."
"I know."
"If you had to put money on it, who's lying?" he asked.
I thought about that for a second or two. Eli I had some history with. Dessa I'd barely met, but I was more inclined to trust her over Eli. "Could be both. Dessa knows more than she's telling us. Or Eli might think she knows something her brother knew before Eli killed him."
"Someone needs to teach him rule one of negotiation: don't kill the people who can give you the information you need," Terric said.
"He said he kills whoever they tell him to kill."
"And you believe that?"
"I believe that's one of the reasons he does it. I also believe he's enjoying it. Joshua was a Closer. Eli's had a vendetta against Closers ever since Victor Closed him and took all his memories and ability to use magic away years ago."
"So you think he's going to hit Closers?"
"I'd say it's on _his_ list. Don't know if it falls in with the plans of the people who have him captured."
" _If_ people have him captured," Terric added.
Yeah, I'd thought of that too. I lit another cigarette, got three drags off it. Then dug around in his very clean glove compartment, looking for sunglasses.
Even though there were heavy clouds today and it was only half past seven in the morning, the light was too damn bright for me. Apparently Tasers and poison were hard on my delicate constitution.
Terric pressed a button on the ceiling and a pocket opened.
"Thanks." I pulled the sunglasses out of the pocket and put them on. Didn't care if I looked ridiculous, just as long as my eyes were covered.
I hunkered down in the seat. I missed my coat.
"If you're cold, I have a coat in the back."
"Does it match the boots?"
"Maybe."
"Pass."
Victor used to live in a very nice home beneath the Japanese Gardens. A home that was built back in the early nineteen hundreds to guard the Faith well beneath it.
We'd pretty much demolished the place trying to survive the apocalypse, and while I'd been told it had been repaired and rebuilt, Victor had moved into a modest one-level home with a couple of acres and a small creek behind it.
He said it was easier on him because of his bad eyesight. I think he just hadn't ever gotten over his house being blown to bits by magic.
In some ways, he hadn't gotten over how much the world had changed now that magic was healed and reduced to a fraction of its strength.
Well, unless you were a Breaker.
Terric pulled up into the drive. We both got out.
"Want the statue?" I asked Eleanor.
"What?" Terric said as he walked to the front door.
"Nothing."
He shot a look back at me, then kept walking.
I nodded toward the car. Eleanor shook her head.
So we strolled up the path. Terric was already walking inside the house and I slipped in after him.
"Thank you both for coming." Victor wore a sweater with a shirt collar beneath it, and jeans, and of course, his heavy glasses. He shut the door behind us and turned the lock. "Let's sit in the living room."
I chose an overstuffed chair, sat there feeling a little bit like the pupil I once was, and tried to keep my hands and hungers to myself. Terric settled on the couch near me, which both helped and, for some reason, annoyed me.
Victor walked with that slow, old man pace he'd settled into since he'd lost almost all of his sight.
"To begin with," he said, "I didn't know Eli Collins was involved until yesterday when Joshua's body was found. I want you both to know that."
"Victor," I said. "A confession? My, how the tables have turned."
"It is not a confession. I am simply clarifying why I haven't told you this before," he said. "We know who Eli's Soul Complement is."
He stopped at a rolltop desk in the corner and retrieved a file folder. That, he handed to Terric.
"Who?" I asked.
Terric scanned the file, then looked up. "Brandy Scott." He tipped the file so I could see the picture clipped there. Short dark hair, almond eyes, shy smile with a dimple. She didn't look old enough to drive.
"How old is she?" I asked.
"That picture is from a while ago," Victor said. "She's fifteen in it. She's thirty-five now."
"Mental institution?" Terric said.
"That," Victor said, "is what I needed to tell you. We've known Eli had a Soul Complement. Have known it for many years. They were even tested. But Brandy wasn't stable. We did everything we could, medicine, magic, counseling. But she never recovered from the test to see if she and Eli were a match. Over the years her condition has grown worse. The last report we have from her doctors is that she has grown less and less responsive."
"You took her from him, didn't you?" I said, putting it all together. "When you Closed Eli's memories away, you made him forget her."
Terric glanced up at Victor over the file. Waiting.
It was, if you thought about it too long, a horrifying thing to do. Like cutting a person in half straight down the middle.
Victor had been standing behind the chair that matched mine. His fingers squeezed the top of the upholstery; then he let go and walked around, sat and exhaled tiredly.
"Mr. Collins . . . Eli is brilliant." He nodded. "We have the tests that prove it. But he is also unstable and dangerous."
"A sociopath," Terric said.
"Yes," Victor said. "Soul Complements can make magic break its own rules. We've always known that. Even when magic was strong, Brandy and Eli were a danger then. To themselves. To the Authority. To mankind."
"So you kept them apart?" I didn't know why it was bothering me so much. I mean yeah, I had stayed as far away from Terric as I could these last few years. And a few years before that. But that was my choice. No one had made me forget him. No one had forbade me to be with him.
It was my choice.
Eli and Brandy hadn't had a choice.
"It was decided, by more people than just me, that it would be best for them to never know about each other," Victor said.
"So you Closed Eli," Terric said, "took the memories of Brandy away from him. And then you took the memory of how to use magic away from him too?"
"Yes." He was quiet a moment, maybe thinking over those times, those decisions.
I'd always wondered if Victor followed rules, or made rules to follow. Too many times in the past he'd leaned a decision one way or another to make sure things in the Authority turned out the way he approved of. The way he thought was right, despite what the Authority stood for.
"Yes," he said, "I did. I made him forget Brandy. I took away his ability to use magic."
"Not that he didn't relearn it," Terric said.
"And when Eli demanded you Unclose him back when Davy Silvers's life hung in the balance," I said, "you didn't give him the memories of Brandy back, did you?"
"No."
A pause while I, at least, swallowed the fact that my teacher, my friend Victor, had been playing God with someone's life. With their soul.
"It was my decision not to let him know about her. I still believe it was the correct thing to do. She is broken. There is no future for them together."
"I had no idea you have a crystal ball," I said. "How very convenient you know what they can and can't be."
The rings snapped with tiny sparks of red.
Yes, I was angry. Even though I hated Eli, I hated even more that Victor had made decisions that only Eli and Brandy should have made.
"Would you rather I have let two very unstable people have full access to a magic more powerful than ninety-nine percent of magic users in the world could access? It is not unthinkable that they could have destroyed the world."
I knew he wasn't being overly dramatic. Soul Complements could be walking time bombs. Soul Complements, in fact, had almost ended the world just three years ago.
"But to just cut them off from each other? There had to have been other options."
"There were not."
"Have you considered that by not having Brandy it drove Eli to extremes? That all this—all the crap he's doing—is because of what you did to him? Joshua might still be—"
"Shame," Terric said gently. "Don't."
I just glared at Victor.
He nodded. "Yes," he whispered. "I have thought of it many times. Especially over the last three years."
I'm sure he had. One of the side effects of surviving the apocalypse was that Cody Miller had healed magic with the intension of making everything better. That healing had made magic soft, and it had given memories back to everyone in the world who had had their memories taken away by Closers.
Closers like Victor.
So Eli had remembered Brandy and the part Victor and the Authority had played in keeping her separate from him.
"Damn," Terric said softly. "He's known for three years that she's his match? And that she was locked away?"
Victor nodded.
"When did he find her?" I asked.
"Our sources say it was two years ago. She doesn't have family, was a ward of the state. They were trying a new medication. It seemed to be helping. She was more responsive. Aware."
"Then?" Terric asked.
"Then the war." Victor spread his hands. "The end of magic being separated into dark and light. The end of our power. And the beginning of the new world where the Authority is no longer secret, where memories are no longer hidden, where those of us who fought to keep the world, and all its people safe, are ignored. Unwelcome. Silenced."
"You're not unwelcome," Terric said. "The Authority still needs you. Needs what you can teach."
"Faith magic?" Victor smiled sadly. "The things I would teach are nothing more than a history lesson now. Those spells, Closing people, guarding gates, fighting to keep dangerous uses for magic secret and safe? Unnecessary."
"All right," I said, "fine. Things might not have worked out the way you wanted them to. We've all shed our tears. But we're still breathing, and we all have a problem: Eli. How do we find him? How do we stop him?"
"I don't know the answer to either of those questions, I'm afraid," he said.
"Do you know about a woman named Dessa?" I asked.
He frowned. "The name isn't familiar to me."
"Dessa Leeds?"
His gray eyebrows pushed wrinkles up his forehead. "Leeds? Do you mean Thomas Leeds?"
"That's her brother," I said. "Dessa's brother. You know him?"
"He was a Closer. Out of Seattle. He was working for us. What do you know about him?"
I leaned back. Studied him. "Nothing, really. I do know that you're holding out on me, though."
"Shame," Terric said.
"Come on, Ter. The old man's got a secret he doesn't want to share."
"Old man?" Victor drew himself up and gave me a stern glare. "You know I'm in contact with your mother, don't you, Shamus?"
I grinned at his indignant tone. For all that I was angry about his decisions with Eli and Brandy, Victor was one of my teachers. I'd grown up with him being a stern, proper sort of uncle. Plus, he'd taught me some of the dirtiest tricks you could do with magic. He was family, and that bond couldn't be broken. Not even over dangerously poor decisions.
"Go ahead," I said. "Tell her I'm being disrespectful to one of my teachers. It won't be the first time she hears it. Oh, and while you're at it, ask her why you don't have the balls to tell us the whole truth."
Terric leaned back on the couch and threw his hands up. "Jesus, Shame. Did that Taser fry your brain?"
I just watched Victor. In the past, needling him couldn't make the old man change his mind. I didn't think it would work this time, but figured it wouldn't hurt to try. People who are upset or angry tend to say all sorts of interesting things they would never say in a calm state of mind.
"We've known the government was becoming . . . interested in the members of the Authority," he said quietly. "Certain members. Our Closers, our Soul Complements, and those of us in higher positions. But we didn't know why. We needed someone on the inside. Someone who had a contact."
"Thomas?" I asked.
"Yes. Thomas thought he could use his relationship with his sister—I do believe her name was Dessa—to get closer to the matter."
So Dessa did work for the government. "Which department was he infiltrating?" I asked.
"He worked his way into a government-sponsored research and development facility. On the surface, it is a testing lab for biotechnology. Everything from increasing crop yields to deterring invasive species. But beneath that facade, Thomas found evidence of other tests. Human tests."
"Medical tests on humans are far from rare, Victor," I said. "What made these different?"
"The tests weren't for medical advancement. They were searching for ways to weaponize people."
"What?" Terric said.
Took the word right out of my mouth.
"Now that magic is a known resource, the government is very interested in what people can do with it. How it can be used as a protection. As a weapon."
It made sense. Any government would want to know how magic could be used, and by whom.
"Okay," I said. "How do Eli and Brandy fit into this?"
"Brandy disappeared a year and a half ago," Victor said. "The official report is that she died from a stroke caused by side effects of the medication she was on. But we know she was taken. Stolen out of the institution. By the government. By this research lab."
Terric opened the file again. Thumbed through it. "Thomas was looking for her, wasn't he?"
"Yes."
"And Eli?" he asked.
"We'd lost trace of him at the same time. I don't know if he was taken, if he went looking for her, or if he was behind her kidnapping. Our . . . resources aren't what they used to be. But our goal, that has remained the same. To keep the innocent safe from magic and the things people would do with it. Brandy is an innocent in this. But we believe she was taken by men who would use her as a weapon."
"Tell me you know where the research facility is."
"From the information Thomas was able to gather, it has branches across the country. We suspect one of them is here in the Northwest. And if they are trying to tap magic, it will need to be near a well."
"There are a lot of wells. One under almost every city," Terric said.
"And five under Portland," Victor said.
"Eli opened a gate," I said.
That got his attention.
"He— What?"
"He was in my bedroom, and after about two minutes, a gate opened behind him and he was pulled back through it."
"He used magic?" Victor asked. "Broke magic to open the gate?"
I thought about it. "No. I can usually feel when magic breaks." From the corner of my eye I saw Terric nod.
"There was magic involved. But there was also technology."
"Eli spent too long working under Beckstrom Senior," Terric said.
"I think you mean worshipping," I said. "Spent too much time worshipping Allie's father and all that experimental tech the Beckstrom fortune funded."
"If they have gate technology," Victor said, "then none of us are safe."
"Which means we need to find Eli," I said. "You didn't happen to shoot him with a tracking chip over the years, did you?"
"Unfortunately, no," Victor said. "I wish we'd thought of it."
"Have you followed up on everyone connected to Brandy and Eli?" Terric asked. "Her doctors, caregivers? Eli's contacts, where he's lived, worked?"
"Yes," Victor said. "We hit a dead end about eight months ago. That was also when we fell out of contact with Thomas." He paused, then, "We think Thomas was killed."
"He was," I said. "Dessa said he was killed by Eli. Said he had marks in him like Joshua."
"Was she sure?" Victor asked softly.
"She saw Joshua," I said. "Saw the glyphs carved into him. She thinks it was made by the same magic user."
Victor took off his glasses and closed his eyes. For a moment, I saw the weight of years change him. He had been in the Authority for longer than I had been alive. He'd seen all manners of horrors committed by both the right and the wrong people having too much power.
And now this.
"You have to stop him." Victor replaced his glasses and opened his eyes. There was the iron strength of resolve in his words. "Eli Collins should have been killed years ago. We thought then that it was a mercy to just take his memories away. To give him a chance to build a normal life. But he turned to darkness. To killing. To murder. Joshua should not have had to pay the price for our mistakes. I want you to stop him. At any cost."
"We should let the Overseer know," Terric said.
"No. Not this," Victor said. "It has never been the way of the Authority to kill unnecessarily. It is not the way we want to go forward in this new world of magic. But this is an old wound. An old ill that must be ended. Before more innocent people die. I do not want to be hampered by the Overseer's decisions.
"Eli must be stopped. He will kill each Closer involved with his closing, and then he will kill more. Anyone who ever spoke against him or stood for the laws of the Authority. Anyone who ever stood aside, knowing what had been taken from him. If he finds his Soul Complement . . ." Victor paused, swallowed. "Her broken mind will drive him deeper into darkness. And if they break magic together, and use it to shape the world to their desire . . ."
He didn't have to tell us what would happen. Having that much power drove people insane. Even people with good intentions were lured by the madness in magic, the temptation of simply making and unmaking the world. And people with bad intentions did things like start the apocalypse.
"Do not show him mercy, Terric," Victor said, "for he will refuse it. Stop him before he removes every Soul Complement and every magic user in the Authority."
Terric opened his mouth, but I spoke up over him. "The only way to stop him will be to kill him," I said. "You understand that, don't you, Victor?"
"Yes, I do."
"At any cost?" I asked.
"Yes."
"I'll do it."
Terric sighed heavily. Here's the thing: Death and me pretty much saw eye-to-eye. I knew one of these days someone would have to take me down when I lost control of magic. And Eli wasn't just a poor magic user caught by an evil government. Yes, he'd been used by the Authority and others. But even if he had once been a good man, that was over.
He liked killing. Craved it. If the world bowed at his feet, he would want violence, destruction.
I understood those kinds of dark desires. I had no problem ending it for him.
Victor looked between Terric and me. Finally settled on me. "Thank you, Shamus. I know your burden isn't easy. Death magic—"
"Don't," I said.
"Shame," he said firmly. "Let me finish. I know the changes magic has made in you and in Terric have been painful. I know you struggle for control."
"Hey, now," I started, but he just leveled a gaze at me. What could I say? It was the truth. And he knew it.
Victor was not a stupid man. He had known me my entire life. It didn't take eyes to see how close I walked the edge of disaster every day.
"Your father was a good man, Shame," he said. "A dear friend of mine."
I hunched my shoulders unconsciously. I didn't like it when people brought up my father. He and I had gotten on as most fathers and rebellious slacker sons do. Really, he was a lot more patient than I would have been. I missed him, but I'd had enough time to know he was gone from my life for good.
That wasn't what bothered me. No, what haunted me was the thing Jingo Jingo had said before I killed that sick bastard. That my father had fallen on his knees and begged Jingo Jingo to end me. To end the monster he knew I would become.
A Death magic user.
Only I hadn't just become a Death magic user—I'd become a vessel that carried Death magic in my body and soul.
If my dad were alive, I figured he'd want me dead. Before I gave in to the monster inside me.
"This is something that I've wanted to tell you for a long time," Victor said. "Jingo was lying. Your father didn't beg him to keep you from using Death magic. Your father warned Jingo that if he grew too hungry, if _he_ ever lost control, it would be you, his son, who would stop him. Your father saw the strength in you. Saw how you, of all magic users we had ever seen, have the ability to use Death magic without succumbing to its allure.
"He was proud of you, Shamus. As am I."
Not what I was expecting to hear. And for once in my life, I didn't know what to say.
# Chapter 18
Victor gave us all the information he had on Thomas Leeds, which wasn't much, but it was more than the files Terric and I could access. Actually it was a lot more than the files Clyde and Dash could access too. I found that very interesting, and Terric found it very annoying.
"We were the head of the Authority," Terric said, slowing for traffic in the afternoon downpour. "We should have had access to every file on every person we wanted."
"Victor doesn't play by the rules," I said. "He'll probably always see a reason to keep the secret organization secret. Or at least as secret as he can. Very old-school skullduggery. I like him for holding to the old, distrustful, cynical standards."
"You would."
I grinned and folded my arms, carefully, over my chest. The run through the rain to the car had gotten both of us pretty wet, but Terric had on a coat. Even though I was still wearing the sweater, I wished I had my black peacoat instead.
"Stop by the inn," I said. "I want a coat."
"I have a coat in the trunk."
"I want _my_ coat."
"We are not stopping this investigation so you can get your comfy clothes."
"Investigation? Is that what you're calling it?"
"What do you want me to call it?"
"A manhunt," I said. "That's what it is."
"We're going to the office," Terric said.
"Why?"
"I want to tell Clyde what Victor told us, in person. Or at least most of it, so he has the heads-up."
"Why?"
"If I were running the Authority, I'd be furious that I didn't have this kind of information. Also, I want to find out if they've seen Davy."
"Fine," I said. Mostly because I was pretty sure I'd left an old coat there.
"Why the statue?" Terric asked.
"What?"
"Why did you buy a statue of the Grim Reaper with wings?"
"Caught my eye."
"I've seen your apartment, Shame. Art never catches your eye."
I didn't say anything. Didn't care what he thought. This conversation was done.
He glanced in the rearview mirror, at where the statue was carefully propped up so that Eleanor could sit next to it.
_Don't remember her,_ I thought. _Don't ask about her._
Unlike Zay and Allie, we couldn't read each other's minds. But we'd known each other a long time. My bluff didn't hold.
"It's Eleanor, isn't it?" he asked quietly.
I stared out the window.
"She's still . . . connected to you," he said. "I'd forgotten. I'm sorry, Shame. I'd forgotten."
"Don't want your pity. Don't want to talk about it."
"Is she still angry? Can you hear her? Talk to her?"
I dug in my pocket, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, smoked. Didn't open the window.
He rolled his eyes at my petty disobedience. "She wanted the statue, didn't she?" he asked. "Why?"
I glanced over at him, lifted the cigarette to my mouth, inhaled, tipped the sunglasses down so he could see my eyes. When he looked over at me, I said, "Leave it the hell alone."
"Maybe I could help you with her. Maybe we could—"
"No," I said. "We did what we could. We tried what could be tried. Now I deal with it my way, and you don't ever speak of it again."
He glanced in the rearview again. "Later," he said. "We'll talk about it later." Then he turned his attention to where it might actually do some good—looking for parking.
Found a spot a block away from the office, which was about as good as we were going to get at this hour. I was not looking forward to the walk in the rain, but I was looking forward to getting out of the car and the silence that was filled with Terric's promise to not let the Eleanor situation go.
Pushed the door open before the engine was off, clomped across the sidewalk and under the awning. We were in front of a bank. It was an uphill walk to the office. Not as many people out right now, which made it easier on my hunger. I lit another cig, then put my boots to work.
Terric was still in the car. Even though I wasn't looking at him, I could sense him, his heartbeat, his mood. Being around him so much lately only made me more aware of him. Right now he was angry, but more than that, I sensed sorrow.
Who knew what he was sad about? Could be any number of things: the loss of his job, Joshua's death, Eleanor's not-death, Jeremy . . . or me. Or maybe it was just that he didn't like the idea I was going to take care of Eli the best way I knew how—by killing him.
I felt more than heard him get out of the car. Felt more than heard his footsteps in the rain, jogging to catch up with me. Then he was beside me, matching my stride.
"Just because you don't think a conversation needs to happen doesn't mean it isn't going to."
"I said drop it, mate."
"Drop it. Drop the fact that you have a ghost—an undead soul tied to you, trapped, haunting you every second of the day? No wonder you're so damn morose."
"Drop it just like I dropped you not wanting to believe that Jeremy is a lying bastard."
"This isn't about me—it's about you," he said. "We can save her, Shame. The answer to every problem isn't always killing or ignoring every damn thing."
I stopped, turned to him. "What if I don't want an answer, Terric? What if I like killing things? What if I look for every opportunity to kill?"
"Don't say that."
"What? Don't tell you the truth?" I lowered my voice. "You are a piece of work, Conley. You say you want to talk, but you don't want to listen, do you? I am not you. I am not a good guy. I destroy things. I _like_ it. I like killing. I like that Eleanor is shackled to me. Because it reminds me of the power I have. Power you should not underestimate."
I pulled my hand into a fist and arcs of red electricity licked across my rings.
Terric squared off from me, the Void stone necklace at his chest burning with white-green light.
And he smiled. The son of a bitch smiled.
"You don't frighten me, Flynn. Your magic doesn't frighten me. And neither do your lies."
I lifted my fist.
He lifted his hand.
I never even had a chance to draw on magic.
Pain, hot and twisting, shuddered through my head and down my spine.
Had lightning just nailed me to the ground?
Terric hissed, and I knew he felt the same pain.
I hadn't cast anything. Hadn't hit him.
He hadn't cast anything. Hadn't hit me.
"What the hell?" I breathed.
Terric's gaze met mine, his blue eyes wide in the falling rain.
And I knew it, knew the reason for the pain at the exact moment he did.
"They broke it," Terric said. "Someone broke magic."
"Zay," I said, swallowing back the burnt scent of mint and rose. "Jesus. Zay's hurt. Or Allie. One of them."
We ran to the car. Terric outpaced me, but only by a step or two. In the car, doors slammed, engine. Terric tore through the city, heading northeast. Heading to St. Johns. Heading to Zayvion and Allie.
He tossed me his phone. I caught it without looking, dialed Clyde.
"This is Clyde Turner," he answered.
"It's Shame. Someone broke magic. We think it's Zay and Allie. We think they've been hit."
"Hit by magic?"
"We don't know. We're going out there now." I hung up. Terric probably would have told him to call the cops, or the cavalry or whoever it was we had to answer to these days, but I did not give a single damn about procedure.
Terric and I were enough to deal with whatever was going down.
His phone rang. Dash. I thumbed it on speaker and answered, "Shame."
"The police are on their way," he said. "Do you need anything else? Anyone else?"
"We got it," I said.
"Were there any reports?" Terric asked. "Has anyone else called this in?"
"No," Dash said. "Just you two."
"Let us know if you hear anything," Terric said.
"I will. Be careful." Dash hung up. I did too.
Terric pulled up to Zay and Allie's place, double-parking on the gravel lane that ran between their three-story farmhouse and the empty lot in front of the river. They had a front door. We didn't use it.
We jogged past their low stone fence, the leafless rosebushes, and the hedge of dormant daisies. Past the garden Allie was so proud of, which held three decent-sized pumpkins and some random gourds and flowers the Hounds had thought would be funny to plant when she wasn't looking, up the weathered wooden steps of the porch, to the kitchen side door.
I tried the door handle. It was unlocked.
Got exactly one step into the room.
A fist came out of nowhere and hit me in the head like a bull at full charge.
Holy shit.
I stumbled into Terric, who didn't bother catching me on my way down to the floor. He was halfway through a spell.
"Stop." Allie's voice. Allie. I blinked upward. At a very angry Zayvion Jones, who was glowering down over me, his eyes molten gold.
"Jesus, Zay," I said. "We came here to help you."
"Zay," Allie said calmly. "It's Shame and Terric. Let them in."
I didn't think Zay was listening in the language we were speaking.
"Zayvion," Terric said. "It's all right. We got this. The police are on their way. Tell us what happened."
For no apparent reason, he listened to that.
Zay closed his eyes, opened them again. Still gold, but this time there was sanity mixed in with the anger. "We were attacked."
"Fuck," I said, picking myself up off the floor. I wiped the blood off my nose and almost howled. "Also, you broke my nose. Asshole."
"Are you all right?" Allie said.
"I'm fine." I looked at Zay and he finally moved that mountain of muscle over to one side so I could walk the rest of the way into the room.
They had the old-fashioned farm kitchen thing to go with the rest of the old-fashioned farmhouse. I walked to the oversized sink and found a washcloth hanging from the faucet. Used that to mop up the blood running out of my face. Then turned to get a look at the situation.
Allie was sitting at their kitchen table. She had been crying. Zay was still in guard mode. Terric was trying to talk him down toward something resembling reason. Wasn't getting anywhere.
"For crap's sake." I pinched my nose with the cloth, crossed over to Zayvion, grabbed his wrist, then led him over to Allie, who held her hand up for him. "She's fine and she's right here."
Their fingers touched and I pulled my hand quickly away from the connection between them—an almost physical sense of heat.
"What happened?" Terric asked again. "Allie, we felt magic break. Did you break it?"
She nodded. Her eyes were wet. "I don't know why I'm crying. This is so . . ." She wiped at her eyes with her free hand and sniffed, then took a deep breath. "I'm fine. I'm not hurt. I'm just angry."
"Want to tell Mr. Jones to stand down and make with the talking?" I asked.
She looked up at Zay. Maybe for the first time realized how furious he still was. "Zayvion, I'm fine. The baby's fine too."
Right. Baby. No wonder why Zay had gone feral.
"Tell us what happened, Z," I said as I leaned back against the counter, rag over my nose. "Tell us why you broke magic."
Maybe it was the angle of light from where I was standing, but that's when I noticed Zayvion's black T-shirt was dark with blood. He was injured.
"Zay, mate," I said. "You're bleeding."
Terric was looking out the door, but at that, turned and shut it. "Sit down, Zay."
Zay sat in the chair next to Allie, and Terric lifted his shirt to see the damage.
"Who did this?"
"Collins," Allie said. "It was Eli Collins."
# Chapter 19
"Everything you can tell us," I said. "Quickly. Zay. Step it up, man. Use words."
Terric was at the sink now, getting a clean cloth wet so we could clear some of the blood off Zay's chest to see if there was a serious wound beneath it all.
"We were at the table," Zay said in that very, very calm tone he had that really meant he was very, very angry. "We both heard something crack. He was standing inside our kitchen. Smiling."
Zay jerked as Terric pressed the cloth on his stomach. "Did he shoot you?"
"No," Allie said. "He had a knife. He didn't want to kill Zayvion."
Zay picked up where Allie left off. "He wanted to hurt me and make me watch while he killed Allie. Said he was going to carve the life out of her."
The baby.
Fuck.
"So you broke magic," I said.
"We broke magic," they said simultaneously.
"Did you kill the bastard?" I asked.
"No," Zay said. "He had something like a gate."
"Yeah, I've seen it. Tech, I think."
"You've seen it?" Allie asked. "You've seen Eli? When?"
"Last night. He left me a message. Said that people are going to die if I don't find him and save him. Oh, and he's the one who's going to do the killing."
"Why would he warn you that he's going to kill people?" The shock of what had just happened appeared to be wearing off and Allie was back on her game.
The distant wail of sirens filled the air. Maybe the police, maybe an ambulance. Maybe coming here.
"He said he's being held captive and being used to kill people. People like Joshua. He said they're holding his soul. His Soul Complement."
"He's lying," Zay said.
"No," Terric said. "Victor told us. They've known who his Soul Complement is for years. She had been in a mental institution all this time until she disappeared a short while ago. Victor took away Collins's memory of her."
"Shit." He exhaled. "How long?"
"She's fifteen in the file photo," I said. "Thirty-five now. And Eli says they might have her."
"What do they want with him?" Allie asked.
"Their very own Soul Complement pair weapon? I'll give you one guess. But the thing we ought to worry about, boys and girls, is that he's a Breaker. Even though she's damaged and he's bat-shit crazy, if they work together, they can break magic and make it do whatever they want it to do."
"What isn't adding up for me," Terric said, "is why Eli came here with a knife. He's not shy about guns. He's not shy about taking his one shot and making it count."
That was true. Eli liked death, destruction, and bloody mayhem and didn't mind getting his hands dirty. "So he didn't want to kill Zay. Probably didn't want to kill Allie. Or at least not quickly. Did he have anything else with him?"
"A needle."
I nodded. "Right. Had that with me too. But no tranq gun?"
Zay frowned. "No."
I looked over at Terric. "Maybe this was a diversion. Maybe this was just to scare us. Force Allie and Zay to run. Or force them to stay. It feels like a chess move, more than an attack."
"The hole in my chest says otherwise," Zay said.
The sirens were getting closer.
"Are you staying?" I asked.
Allie and Zay looked at each other. Maybe read each other's thoughts.
Allie nodded. "We're staying. We'll set up Hounds to keep an eye on the house."
"He has the tech to show up anywhere he wants," I said. "Hounds wouldn't react fast enough."
"We'll set up guards," Zay said. "Trip spells. Traps."
"You'd have to break magic for anything to be strong enough to stop him," Terric said. "And with the baby . . ."
"The baby will be fine," Allie said.
I didn't care how brave and steady her words were. She was white as a sheet. This had scared the hell out of her. She was afraid the baby would be damaged if they broke magic and used it. Was probably already worried the baby had been damaged.
"We'll do it," I said.
No one hurt my friends. No one.
Zay looked at me, raised one eyebrow. "Who?"
"Terric and me. We'll break magic, set the traps and trips, make it so that if he techs into the place again, he's knocked out cold. Shouldn't be too hard."
Silence in the room. I thought Terric had gone completely mute.
"When was the last time you two broke magic?" Allie asked.
"I do not like the tone of your voice, young lady," I said. "We're . . . capable. We can do it."
Zay was staring at me like I was an unsolvable puzzle. He took a breath and looked over at Terric instead. "What do you think?"
"Really, Jones?" I asked. "First you punch me in my beautiful face. Then you kick me right in my tender ego. I don't need Terric's permission to make a plan. A good plan."
"We can do it," Terric said with a smoothness that probably hid the fear I could feel in the fast beat of his heart. He didn't want to break magic with me.
Or maybe he really desperately did.
Didn't matter. Didn't care. We were doing it. Discussion done.
"Let's get it done before the police arrive. We'll pull from the crystal well," I said, tugging my rings off, one by one. "Three levels of spells. By the time he's able to break through all three protections—if he can break through them—Zay and Allie will either be out of the house, ready to defend themselves with magic—"
"Or have guns in our hands," Zay finished.
"Right," I said. "That works too." I started pacing, suddenly full of too much restless energy. "Three spells: Block, Hold, Sleep. Or maybe not Sleep. We could do Pain, or Freeze, or something more permanent."
Yes, I was talking a mile a minute. I was nervous. It had been a long, long time since we'd broken magic. I had an overwhelming need to control this event.
"Shame," Terric said. I think he'd been talking to Zay and Allie while I paced. I think they'd decided on things without me. Also, Zay had a new towel he was pressing against the puncture wound.
So, I'd lost some time.
"Let's take this outside. Allie needs to be at some distance from us when we break magic to protect the baby. And since the police are almost here, we don't have a lot of time."
"The police can wait. I'm not going to cast a crappy spell because they're in the way."
"It will be fine," he said.
"Of course it's fine. Of course it will be fine. Fine is the way it's always going to be."
Okay, now I was rambling.
Terric walked over to the door. Opened it. Pointed outside. Like I was some kind of dog who needed to pee. "Outside."
Zay was already on his feet. He didn't move like he was in much pain, but then, he had been through worse than a knife in the gut. He wrapped his arm around Allie protectively and she leaned into him as they walked out of the kitchen.
It was odd to see Allie so shaken by this. She was one of the bravest women I knew. And I would lay good money that she hadn't flinched in the face of danger. Hadn't been afraid to fight Eli. But now that the danger was past, she had time to think of how the situation could have turned out, had time to realize her life could have been very different in the matter of seconds. She could have been babyless, Zayless. They were realities she did not want to come true.
And neither did I. I dug in my pocket with shaking fingers as I walked back down the porch stairs.
"No time for cigarettes," Terric said.
I left them in my pocket. My hands weren't steady enough to light them anyway. It was almost frightening how much I wanted to do magic with Terric, to break it and make it into the glorious, dangerous force it used to be.
And on the other hand it was the absolute last thing I wanted to do.
"How long?" I asked.
"Until the police get here?" he asked. "I think about a minute. If we're going to do this, we need to do it fast."
Terric was calm, relaxed. Looked like he was talking about cataloging receipts, not breaking magic open like a ripe melon and letting all the fruity goodness spill out into the world.
"Somewhere where they won't interrupt us," I said. "The car?"
"Not enough space," he said. "How about down by the river?"
"River works for me." We walked through the undeveloped lot, stepping over a low chain fence there and ignoring the sign that insisted we were trespassing. The rain had let off a bit, but it was a gray enough day that I couldn't see the river, even though I could hear it—the lapping of water, the distant metal and engine sounds of boats and cranes. I knew we'd run into the refinery before we hit the sand or the river, but was happy when Terric stopped, after having walked only a few feet across the lot.
"You don't have to do this, Shame. We don't have to do this," he said.
"Yes," I said, "we do."
"Then let's do it." Terric turned toward me. "Three spells. Hold, Block, and Pain."
I was surprised he'd picked Pain, not Sleep. "Seems more like what I'd want to cast. Are you sure, Mr. Goody-goody?"
"I don't like Eli either," Terric said. "And I am pissed he hurt Allie and Zay."
"Good," I said. "Nice to see you here on the dark side. We do have more fun, you know."
Terric shook his head once. "Work, not bullshit. Tap the well, let's get this done."
Well, well. Look at who had gone all bossy.
Still, he was right. I reached out with that part of my head that was always aware of magic, of how it whispered in the back of my thoughts, how it tempted and begged.
Then I tapped in to the well not too far from here and felt magic cover me like an electric heat over my entire body. Pure magic, not just the Death magic that lurked inside me.
It was glorious.
Terric tapped the well too. I didn't know what he was feeling, didn't care. I was having a hard time not being swallowed by the sensation of drawing on magic. God, I loved it. Missed it. Craved it.
I pulled magic to me in huge greedy handfuls, holding it tight. I'd have to carve a spell, have to make the glyph for magic to fill and bring us whatever outcome we wanted, but right now all I wanted was to stand there with magic burning across my skin.
I might have moaned. Normally, that would be embarrassing. But right now I didn't think Terric was paying any attention to what I was doing or what I was feeling either. He was dealing with his own experience of drawing on raw magic—drawing on it knowing that we were going to break it, make it stronger. Make it into what it used to be.
Make it into the thing we loved.
"Hold," Terric breathed.
Took me a second to realize he was talking about the spell. Right. We were supposed to be casting spells.
I did what I could to focus my attention on the spell, on casting it with him. Best I managed was mirroring his movements. Terric drew the spell, I drew it facing him, opposite to him, but frankly magic had me so distracted that, if he hadn't been leading the charge, I would have given up and fallen into other, much more pleasurable spells.
"Shame," he said, out loud I thought. Not in my mind. I hoped. "Focus, for fuck's sake."
That got a smile out of me. Fine. Focus. I could do that. Enough that I did not do a shabby job completing the glyph for Hold.
"Ready?" Terric asked. He was breathing in rhythm with me, his heart in rhythm with mine.
It felt right. It steadied the hunger inside me. Pushed it away, and filled me with ease. Made me feel whole again. Real again.
"Always."
Our eyes locked.
We broke magic.
It was like running a knife along the soft, ripe skin of a fruit and feeling it split beneath my fingers. But instead of digging down into the fruity middle, we tore the seal on magic open and released the power. A hell of a lot of power. An explosion of power that had been waiting for us to set it free.
Magic poured into the glyphs traced in the air in front of us. Hung there and burned like fire.
"Hold," Terric said. "To stop those who would break this sanctuary."
One thing I had to admit, Terric knew how to set a spell so it stuck.
I waited until the glyphs were burning a hot cherry red before I passed my hand across it, sending it out to wrap the house. It would be visible for a moment or two. We'd done our best to cast a Fade into the spell so it wouldn't be seen with the naked eye.
Ever since magic had been healed, it had also become much more visible. So the smart magic users now made sure they included something to hide the spells they cast.
The spell wrapped the house from roof to foundation, glowing red for a moment, then fading away beneath the gray of the day.
The sirens were getting closer.
"Block is next," Terric said, his voice a little husky.
Glad I wasn't the only one enjoying this.
I got my fingers busy and drew the negative image of the spell as he drew the positive. We both pulled on more magic, poured it into the glyphs, which glowed a deep blue this time.
"Block," Terric said. "To protect those within this sanctuary."
He didn't really have to say anything out loud for the spells to work, but he had studied for a long time beneath Victor and Faith magic. Some of the history of those kinds of spells involves prayer, intonation, mantras. I guess old habits are hard to break.
I waved my hand across the spell and sent it spinning to the house, where it immediately sank into the walls.
"Last is Pain," Terric said, beginning the spell.
"Let me."
He nodded and wiped his fingers through the beginnings of the glyph, clearing the air.
I carved the glyph for pain in the air between us, making sure it would wrap and hold and bite and paralyze. I carved it so that if Eli tripped it, he'd be lucky to be breathing by the time the spell ran its course. Terric mirrored my movements, no comment on the viciousness of the spell I was shaping.
The police arrived. We were behind a screen of brush. With the fog closing in, I didn't think they'd immediately notice the black spell smoldering between us.
And because Terric had done it, as soon as the spell was formed and filled with magic, I spoke too.
"Pain," I said. "To bring our enemy to his fucking knees."
"Amen," Terric said. He wiped his hand across it and pushed it toward the house, where it fell like a hard hail of dark rain, soaking it through.
That, the cops saw. But I didn't think they knew where it had come from. Until I glanced out at the road, and noticed Detective Stotts looking our way.
# Chapter 20
"Act natural," Terric said.
"Seriously? Natural? Like we're just two guys who happened to have dressed out of the same closet, standing in the rain and fog on an abandoned lot casting magic the likes of which hasn't been seen for three years? That kind of natural?"
"It's just Paul," he said. "He knows we're on the side of the good guys."
"Speak for yourself."
"Terric, Shame," Detective Stotts called out. "Can I have a word with you?"
"I say we run for it," I said.
"You have zero survival instinct, Flynn." Terric started toward Stotts and I followed.
"What are you two doing out here?" Detective Stotts asked.
"Skipping rocks," I said.
He turned to Terric. Why did people always ignore me?
"Terric?" he asked.
"We came out to see Allie and Zay."
"So you know they were attacked?"
"We're the ones who told Clyde Turner."
"You know I'd prefer it if crimes were reported to the police first."
"It was a matter of seconds between me knowing they were hurt, to Clyde knowing, to you," he said.
"Those seconds count," Stotts said. "I'd like to have them so that my people, our guns, and the _law_ can get here in time to keep things contained."
"We weren't even sure that they had been attacked," Terric said calmly.
"Then why did you tell Mr. Turner they were?"
"What we told Clyde was that Zay and Allie cast magic," Terric said. Then, a little quieter, "They broke it."
Paul Stotts was the boyfriend of Allie's best friend, Nola. No, wait. Husband. They'd tied the knot a couple years back. And Paul had stood by us through the worst of the apocalypse. He knew things about magic and magic users that no one knew back in the day.
He knew things today about magic we still try to keep quiet—namely that Soul Complements can break it.
"Why did they do that?" he asked.
"That's what we wanted to know. Especially since Allie is . . ." Terric paused. "Has Allie talked to Nola?"
"Are you kidding? She's planning the baby shower."
"Right. Since Allie is pregnant, they didn't want to break magic," Terric continued. "So when we felt it break . . ."
"You can feel it when magic breaks?"
Terric shrugged. "We did this time. We assumed they wouldn't have broken it if they weren't in trouble."
Stotts nodded, then glanced over at the house. "I'll need a statement."
"You know we can't admit to breaking on record," Terric said.
"I'll want something from you, even if it's just you had a bad feeling and followed up on your hunch."
An ambulance rolled up, and the EMTs got out and walked up to the kitchen.
Good thing we'd triggered the spells to only react if Eli tripped them.
"Zayvion's been stabbed," Stotts said.
"We know," Terric said.
"I don't suppose you know anything else about this, do you?"
"No," Terric said.
Yes, that surprised me. I thought he liked telling the truth and following procedure.
Stotts finally looked back at me. "Shame, do you know anything else about this?"
"Nope. Not a thing."
"All right." He glanced up as one of his officers walked our way. "I want to see you both in the station later today."
"We'll be there," Terric said so smoothly, even I had a hard time telling if it was a lie.
Stotts moved up the path toward the house and Terric went the other way to the car.
I glanced back at the house. A movement along the rooftop drew my eye.
There was a gargoyle on the roof. Namely, Stone.
Well, he was really an animate—which is a construction of stone and gears powered by magic. He'd been made by Cody Miller, who had once been an incredible artist and magic user.
Even though magic shouldn't be strong enough to keep Stone going, he was still as mostly alive as ever. He'd been Allie's loyal companion for years now, was a good-natured doofus who liked to stack household items.
In a fight he was a deadly, ferocious brute.
He folded his wings and four-footed it to the chimney, sitting with his hands wrapped over his toes. He peered down at the police moving around, then looked out at me.
I held up a hand. "Look after Allie," I said in a normal voice I knew he'd hear. He tipped his head, both ears rising into sharp points, and showed a little teeth.
He must have been with Cody when the attack happened. I was glad he was here now. I suddenly felt a lot better knowing a ton of fanged, clawed, winged living rock was going to be there with Allie and Zay.
I turned and caught up with Terric and walked along beside him. "I see what you did there with the detective, you little liar."
"Shut up, Shame."
He got in the car and I got in after him. Eleanor slipped into the backseat.
"You lied to a police officer," I said with mock disappointment. "Aren't you worried they're going to take your hero card away?"
"If he knew what we knew, he'd stop us from doing what we're going to do," he said.
"Kill Eli?"
"Kill Eli."
"Let's drink to that. Swing by and get me a coffee, won't you?"
"Coffee, not booze?"
"When they open a drive-through bar, I'll be the first in line. Until then, coffee."
What could I say? I was in a good mood. Breaking magic had taken care of my hunger, and made me feel lazy and satisfied, like finally scratching an itch I couldn't reach. Watching Terric lie to the cops was the candy sprinkles on top of today's donut.
Terric stopped at a coffee shop, ordered an Americano for himself and a double caramel latte for me.
Score.
"Do you think we should have stayed with Zay and Allie?" I asked after I'd drained half the cup.
"We talked with them about that. Don't you remember?"
"No." It was probably when I'd been pacing and not paying attention to them. I pushed at my cheekbone gently and flipped the visor down for the mirror. The bruise had spread down to my jaw and was making it a little difficult to see out of one eye. Zayvion Jones knew how to land a hit.
"...offered," Terric was saying. "Zayvion refused. He said they'd call Stotts and make sure there were EMTs coming to look at his wound. He said he'd rather stay at the house with Allie, since he had planned on casting protections on it."
"Protections we cast." I flicked the visor back up. My face hurt, but I didn't think anything other than the nose was broken.
"Yes. He'll call if anything happens, but if you and I do our job—"
"Kill Eli?" I just loved how that rolled off the tongue. Felt like I could say it all day.
"No, find Dessa, who might know where Eli is."
"Then kill Eli?"
"Maybe, yes. Stop him for sure. Find Brandy and release her, or use her as a bargaining chip against Eli."
"That's . . . calculated."
"That's practical." He took a drink. "If we do our job, then Eli will be in no position to attack Allie or Zay or anyone else."
"Because he'll be dead. Come on, Ter. You know that's how this is going down. We're going to take Eli out. And by 'out' I mean mulch him into grave filler."
Terric's phone rang. It was in his cup holder, so I pulled it out. "Dash," I said. I thumbed on the speaker. "This is Shame."
"Shame," Dash said. "Can I speak with Terric?"
"I'm listening," Terric said. "What's going on?"
"We have a lead on Eli. Davy just called in—"
"From where?" Terric asked.
"Don't know. He rigged a blocker on his phone so I couldn't track it."
"Okay," Terric said. "Are you at the office?"
"Yes."
"We're on the way over now. Let's finish this conversation there."
"I'll put the coffee on," he said.
I hung the phone up. "Don't want to talk to him?"
"Don't want a phone record if we've been bugged."
"Do you think you've been bugged?"
"No, I'm sure I haven't been. I don't know about the lines at the office, though. If they know where Eli is, I want to hear it in person."
I finished off the last of my coffee, sat back, and let the man behind the wheel take us to the office.
By the time we found parking, the rain had stopped. We got out. Everything was wet and when the higher clouds broke, the fog torched up with sunlight.
Eleanor drifted beside me of course. On the drive over here, I caught her staring at the statue. I almost brought the statue in with us, just in case Terric and I didn't leave in the same car after this, but she shook her head.
So we stormed across the street, Terric and me step in step. People moved aside. I supposed we made quite a pair.
We walked into the building, took the elevator up to the office.
It had only been a few hours since I was down here getting the riot act read to me by Clyde. Funny what a difference a few hours made.
The haphazard tower of empty boxes was now a squat pyramid of neatly taped, labeled, and stacked boxes. Probably contained the few things I'd left behind and were otherwise filled with Terric's possessions.
The framed picture of Paris he had taken back before college that used to hang in his office was propped against the pyramid.
I guess Clyde was moving in.
"Terric, Shame." Dashiell paused halfway across the room and looked me up and down. "Those are good colors on you, Shame. But what happened to your face?"
"I ran into Zay's fist."
"So . . . wait. What's that now?"
"Nothing to worry about," I said. I strode off to the small storage closet just outside the bathroom. Mop, cleaning supplies, extra toilet paper. And up there on the top shelf next to a box of caulking tubes was a jacket.
My jacket.
One of them, anyway.
I pulled it down, turned my head, and shook the dust off it. Black, lightweight, shorter than the peacoat. Really not much more than a hoodie, but hell, it was my hoodie.
I shrugged into it. Realized that even with the bulky sweater, the hoodie still fit.
I was seriously tired of things reminding me of how thin I was. Maybe I should start working out.
Ha!
I strolled back into the main room where Dash and Terric were standing and Clyde leaned against a desk. They all had coffee in their hands.
Detour to the coffeepot. I made myself a cup, stole a truly sorry-looking bear claw sitting alone in a bakery box, and noted I'd left the baseball bat those thugs had threatened me with propped up by my desk. That was leaving with me. And so was the gun I figured was still in my drawer.
I walked over to my desk. Pulled the drawer and stuffed the gun in my pocket.
"...EMTs are taking care of him," Terric said. "We'll be giving Stotts our statements later today if we have time."
"And what are you going to tell him?" Clyde asked.
"That we were planning on stopping by anyway," Terric said. "And had a hunch that something was wrong, so we let you know in transit."
He nodded. "Not the best we've ever come up with, but it should do. And you, Shame? Where do you stand on all this?"
"On the side of better donuts," I said, turning toward them. "Where the hell did you buy this greasy sponge?"
"They weren't for you," Clyde said.
"Thank God for that," I said. I shoved the last of it in my mouth and chewed. "Awful."
"Where do you stand on this, Shame?"
"Whatever Terric just said, I'm probably against it, but am too lazy to do anything about it. So, what do we know about Eli?"
"We got a call from Davy," Dash said. "He thinks Eli is working out of one of the hospitals in the area."
"As a doctor?" The implications of that made my skin crawl. "Ew."
"He didn't say," Dash said. "But he found this." He walked over and handed me a printout of names.
"It's a printout of names," I said.
"Right," Clyde said. "The first twenty-five on that list have hit the missing persons reports. Three of them have shown up dead in Forest Park."
"Davy thinks Eli is . . . smuggling people out to Forest Park and killing them?" I guessed.
"He thinks it's connected," Clyde said. "Said there's security footage of him being in the waiting room while one of the people on the list was there too."
"Doctors see lots of people. Lots of patients in waiting rooms," I said.
"You know what all those people on that list of names have in common, Flynn?" Clyde asked.
"They're on this list?" I held up the paper.
"They were all hospitalized for tainted magic poisoning three years ago during the battle to heal magic."
I looked at the paper. Tried to follow the logic of how that linked up with Eli. "Uh . . . buy a vowel?"
"Davy thinks Eli's using those people who carried tainted magic as experiments," Clyde said. "That he's been picking them out, running tests on them, and then killing them and dumping their bodies."
"Two things," I said. "One: Davy does not trust Eli, has good reason not to. Two: Davy considers Eli a monster who likes to carve magic into people to screw with them just like he screwed with Davy. And two-part-two: Collins the Cutter is not that sloppy. If Eli wanted to do tests on someone and not get caught, we'd never find the bodies."
Terric nodded. "So do you think he wants us to know he's killing these people? To . . . lead us to him?"
"Are any of the victims altered in any way?" I asked.
"You mean with glyphs?" Dash asked.
"Or any other way."
"Not that we found," Clyde answered.
"Well, there were the tattoos," Dash said.
"What?" I asked.
"Tattoos. Each of them had a tattoo somewhere on his or her body."
"What kind of tattoos?" Terric asked. "Roses, hearts, serpents?"
"Glyphs."
Clyde hooked his thumbs in his pockets. "Lots of people have tattoos of spells now. Especially since magic has changed. There's a bullcrap myth that if you get a tattoo of a certain kind of spell, that spell will be stronger when you cast it."
"I'm guessing there's a lot of fertility inks out there," I said.
He nodded.
"Do you have a list of them, Dash?" Terric asked.
"Fertility spells?" Dash asked, a little startled.
I laughed. "The look on your face! Priceless!"
"No," Terric said, giving me a scorching glance, "the tattoos on the missing people."
"That, I have," Dash said. "Shut up, Shame. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night." Then, to Terric, "Give me a sec."
"Thanks," Terric said.
Dash smiled like the sun had just decided to shine on him.
I watched Dash walk off and considered Terric. He had no idea. Zero clue that Mr. Dashiell Spade liked him.
So dense. I wondered if I should give Terric a hint about his secret admirer.
"If it is Eli," Terric said, back to business before I had a chance to put my thoughts together, "why did he choose those twenty-five out of all those people on the list?"
Clyde shrugged. "Convenience and availability?"
"Naw," I said. "Eli doesn't mind doing things the hard way if it means he gets it his way. There's a reason he picked these specific people. What do we have? Fifteen men, ten women?"
"Yes," Terric said.
"Do you have files on these people?" I asked. "Photos, medical history, addresses?"
"Yes." Dash walked back into the room. "We do." He placed twenty-five files, folded open, across the desk closest to Terric.
"Perfect," Terric said as he leaned down to look at the files. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Dashiell."
Dash smiled, and shot me a warning look.
I just blinked innocently.
"Which are still alive?" Terric asked.
Dash pulled away three folders. I noted, with a twinge of anger, one was the ten-year-old girl.
"And what are the tattoos?" Terric asked.
Dash pointed a finger at files with each word his spoke. "Refresh. Enhance. Light. Light. Ground. Impact. Combust. Refresh."
"Strange collection of spells," I said. "I can understand Enhance and Refresh. But Ground and Light? Who uses light spells so much they want that tattooed on their body? Ground isn't even needed anymore. Magic doesn't ever get so out of control that it needs to be Grounded."
"Some people just get a tat because they like the look of it," Dash said. "Even when they don't know what it means."
"Okay," I said, "so that's one explanation. But if Eli is a part of this, a part of the tattoos, then they are in no way random."
"Can you put the people in the order of when they went missing?" Terric asked.
"Yep." Dash moved the files, lining them up in order.
"And the tattoos?" he asked.
"Light, Ground, Light, Refresh, Enhance, Impact. Combust, Refresh."
"That's a better setup," Clyde said. "Cast Light, maybe it doesn't work, so Ground to keep magic stable, then cast Light again. Maybe it fades too quickly, so you'd need Refresh, then Enhance to make it more focused and then Impact. Combust? Light doesn't lend to that, Fire does, but okay. And Refresh to keep that strong. Not sure what that can be used for other than knocking the crap out of something or someone."
"These are tattoos," Dash said. "Not actual spells. It could be coincidence. You could be seeing order where there really isn't any."
"When did they get the tattoos?" Terric asked.
Dash thumbed through the files. "Um . . . other than this older man, Walter, all of the tattoos were fresh ink."
"How fresh?" I asked.
Dash looked back a couple pages in the file. "On the dead? Coroner said very fresh. Maybe a few weeks or a month at the most."
"So there's a chance they were tattooed in preparation for being taken," Clyde said.
Terric nodded. "They've each been missing for more than a few months, but they weren't all kidnapped on the same day. They were kidnapped weeks, sometimes months apart."
"Clyde's theory is starting to look promising," I said.
"But they're tattoos," Dash insisted. "Magic won't fill a tattoo. It fills a glyph."
"We don't think Eli is using magic like normal people," I said.
"How else can he use magic?"
"He can break it," Terric said. "He has a Soul Complement. She's been in a mental institution. Went missing from there. We think he knows where she is. And we know he wants us to rescue her before he kills again."
Clyde went silent, rolling through just exactly what that all meant.
Exactly what it all meant was that Eli was a weapon now. Potentially just as powerful as Terric and me, or any other matched set.
"So, where is she?" Dash asked.
"We don't know," I said.
"And we don't know where Eli is, other than his possible connection to a hospital," Dash said.
"Yes," I said. "But he has technology—probably triggered by magic—that lets him open up holes in space and walk into any room he wants to."
"Which is how he got to Allie and Zay," Clyde said.
"Yes."
Clyde took off his baseball hat and rubbed his fingers through his thick black hair. "That, boys," he said gravely, "is a situation."
# Chapter 21
We ordered in lunch. Terric and Clyde eventually went into the closed-off office to talk about responsible Authority things. Which was what Terric and I had planned.
That left me and Dash to dig into old Authority files on Thomas Leeds. I was hoping something in there would give me a little inside information on Dessa.
Not a lot on Thomas I could use. An old photo of him, looked like it was taken in a sports bar with friends. I didn't see much of the family resemblance, except maybe around the eyes and forehead. Otherwise, he looked like a guy you'd expect to be running a small but useful business of some sort, who spent his weekends watching football.
All of the addresses on his file were in the Seattle area, the phone was disconnected, and when it came down to the list of family and friends, the file had been wiped.
Thanks, Victor.
Bored, I went outside to smoke and pace. Hadn't even gotten a puff off my cigarette before I heard a voice behind me.
"Four sugars, four creams?" Dessa said.
I grinned, turned.
She had on jeans, a white collared blouse, and a short black jacket. No purse, shoes she could run in without breaking bones. She also had a cup of coffee in each hand.
"Dessa," I said. "How did you know it was time for my coffee break?"
"I bugged the office." She smiled, held the coffee out for me.
"That kind of behavior will get you in trouble," I said.
"Bugging your office?"
"Ex-office and no, telling me about it. And I prefer six sugars and six creams, thank you." I took the cup.
"I know." She reached into her pocket and handed me extra sugars and cream.
"Why are you here?" I popped the cup lid, stuck a thumbnail in the creams, poured, and tore sugar packets with my teeth. Didn't bother to stir. I liked a sweet kick at the end.
"You make it sound like I want something."
"Because you do."
She took a drink of her own coffee. "Yes, I do."
"Good," I said. "Let's hear it."
"I want you to take me to whoever is in charge of the Authority."
"So they can tell you who killed your brother."
"Am I that predictable?"
"Not at all. As a matter of fact, I think you already know who killed your brother. And you know why he did it."
Everything about her stilled, tensed. If she had a gun smuggled somewhere on her body, all signals pointed to her pulling it.
"Who told you that?" Her voice had gone from playful to dead serious.
"Do you know a woman named Brandy Scott?"
Her brows tucked down, folding a line between them. "The name sounds familiar. But I'm not placing it. Should I know her?"
"Thomas's killer thinks you should."
"You talked to his killer?" That drunk 'em and trunk 'em look flashed in her eyes.
"We heard from him."
"You know giving me a name—Brandy Scott—is enough to lead me to him."
"Might be if you can find the connection. That's not how I want this to play out."
"How you want it? You had your chance, Shame. I asked you to help me, remember? You said you didn't want to get involved. So I don't see why you should have a say in what I do or don't do with this information."
"Wouldn't dream of having a say. I want to make you a deal. You help me find Brandy Scott and I will cut you in on all the info we have on the killer."
She hesitated. It was a tempting offer. "I'm supposed to believe you'll do that?"
"I'm not a man who makes a habit of lying."
"Yes, you are."
"Okay. Yes, fine. But this is the truth."
She drank coffee, thought about it. Then, with regret, "You're still holding all the cards, Shame. And I know you don't really want me involved and you'll find a way to go around me. Sorry. I need to do this on my own."
I don't know why, but I hadn't expected that. "Really? We had pizza together. I thought we had a certain something."
She pressed her lips together and nodded. "We did. We do. It's why I've changed my mind. I started this alone. I think it needs to stay that way. Then whatever we have . . . or don't have, we can figure that out on its own terms."
"Dessa." I reached over and touched her arm, but I could see that she had made up her mind. I pulled my hand away. "Be careful."
"I'll let you know how things turn out."
"Unless we find her first."
That got a smile out of her. "I suppose that could happen. Did you look into that thing with Jeremy Wilson yet?"
"We spoke."
"Is he dead?"
"Not yet."
"But what I said about him was correct? That he's a part of the Black Crane and using Terric?"
"Yes." I knew the point she was making. She'd held up her end of the deal, and she wanted me to hold up mine.
"So, please don't follow me," she said. "Please don't come after me. Good luck, Shame." She turned and walked down the street, dropping her barely touched coffee in the nearest garbage bin.
Eleanor had been leaning against the building. I glanced over at her and she shook her head. She mouthed, _Stupid_.
"She'd have found out anyway," I said. "She bugged the office. I'm sure she's bugged my room by now too. This way I'll know what lead she's following and I can follow her. I'm going to put a Hound on her."
Eleanor rolled her fingers outward and shrugged in an obvious "why?" pose.
"I don't want her hurt in the cross fire."
She cupped her fingers together to make a heart shape, and raised one eyebrow. I turned my back on her.
"Not listening."
I pulled out Terric's phone I'd nicked and called Zayvion.
"Hello?" Allie's voice, not Zay.
"Hey, Al. Where's the man?"
"Sleeping. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I just wanted to check in on you two. What did the doctor say?"
"That he's lucky the knife missed his lung. It's going to hurt for a while, and they gave him antibiotics, but he's going to be fine."
The relief in her voice was an almost tangible thing.
"And you? Honest, now, love. How are you?"
"Shaken. I'm okay now, but when he came in the door, Shame . . ." She paused.
I lit another cigarette, ignored Eleanor, who had come around to stick her tongue out at me.
"When he came in the door," she went on, "I froze. I've never frozen in my life. All I could think was I was going to lose the baby."
"You did fine. Just fine. And the baby's okay, right?"
"Yes," she said quietly.
"So it's all good. Just like it should be. Is Stone there with you?"
"He showed up after the police left. He's next to me right now. Hasn't left my side. And Nola's here too. With her shotgun."
I had to grin at that. You could take the girl out of the country, but you couldn't take the country out of the girl.
"So you don't need anything?" I asked. "Anything I can bring you?"
"No. We're good. I'm good. Thanks, Shame. For being here earlier. When we needed you."
"Wouldn't be anywhere else. Say, Allie, did you know Thomas Leeds?"
"I don't think so. Was he a Hound?"
"No. Closer. I don't suppose you knew a Dessa Leeds?"
"My memory's pretty sketchy, but neither of those names rings any bells. Why? What do you want them for?"
"They're tied to Eli. I'm looking for someone to follow Dessa. You got any spare Hounds I could borrow?"
"I don't really do that anymore. You could talk to Davy."
"Can't find Davy."
"Then check in with Sunny. She'll know where he is."
"I thought Sunny was in Florida or something. Visiting family?"
"Maybe," she said. "I don't remember Davy mentioning anything, but I haven't seen him since last week."
"Maybe I'll stop by the Den, see who's running things while she's gone and he's wherever he is."
"That's a good idea. And, Shame, I'm really sorry you lost your job. And that you had to . . . that you and Terric had to break magic for us. Because we couldn't. Because I couldn't."
"Allie, those are not your worries. It is what it is. And it worked out fine. We used magic together and I didn't have a single moment of wanting to snog him."
That got a short laugh out of her. "He wouldn't have argued."
"He would have had a coronary."
Terric stepped out of the building. Spotted me. "Speaking of, I've got to go now. I'll try to come by soon. Stay in touch."
"Be careful, Shame."
"What, and ruin my streak?"
I thumbed the phone off and held it out for Terric.
"You really have to get your own phone," he said, taking it from me.
We started toward the car.
"I have a phone. It's at the inn. In my room. With my clothes. And my coat. And my boots. All of which I'd love to have, but you won't take me there."
"Fine," he said. "I'll take you there. Did you and Dash find anything?"
"Not a clue. Checked on Al and Zay. He's fine, she's fine. She doesn't know anything about Thomas or Dessa."
"What about going to a bar?" he suggested. "Dessa picked you up at a bar last night. Picked you up the night before, come to think of it. You might run into her there."
"Not without my coat. My _good_ coat."
"Two-year-olds have more patience than you." He slid into the driver's seat.
"That's because two-year-olds have coats," I said, getting in the other side. "Also, I saw Dessa. She doesn't know who Brandy Scott is, but now she's looking for her."
"Alone?"
"I offered her our side of the sandbox. She said no."
He shook his head and drove. "We'll need to track her."
"I'm already on it."
We pulled up to the inn a few minutes later. The drive had made me realize how damn tired I was. I didn't know if it was from breaking magic with Terric, Zay practically snapping my neck, or just the last couple days of way more activity than what I'm used to, but right now sleep sounded better than a bottle of booze.
"You want me to wait while you get your coat?" Terric asked.
I yawned hugely. "No. I'm going to catch an hour of sleep."
"If you go out looking—"
"I'll call you." I got out, opened the back door, took the statue and the baseball bat I'd nicked from the office. Started walking.
Stepped into the inn, and waited until Terric pulled away. Then I stepped back out again, walked around to the back of the building, and got in my car. Keys were in the glove box. So was my phone.
Dialed Sunny. She had been a hell of a Blood magic user, studied under my mum for a couple years. Fell in lust with Davy Silvers, and sort of moved in with him. She and he managed the Hounds in the area, making sure security, info, and tracking jobs were fulfilled, that the Hounds stayed clean, and that paychecks got cut.
"What do you want, Shame?" Sunny answered.
"Nice to hear from you too, Sunny. You back in town yet?"
"Just got in a couple hours ago. Is there a reason you've suddenly crawled out from under your rock?"
"Ouch. Also, yes. I need a Hound to follow a woman by the name of Dessa Leeds. She came into town a couple days ago. Ex–government spy of some sort. Packs heat. I don't want anyone to engage or get in her way, but she's looking for someone I'm looking for, and I want to know if she finds her."
"Who do I bill?"
"Me."
She laughed. "Right. Who do I really bill? Terric?"
"Sunny. This is my thing. It's not the Authority's thing, it's not Terric's thing. Bill me."
"If you don't pay—"
"I will."
"I know where you live, Flynn."
"I know. Just call me if you find out anything."
"I'll call if you keep your phone on."
"Promise."
I could hear her sigh. "Anything else?" she asked.
"Have you seen Davy since you got back?"
"No. He said he's on a job."
"Who's shadowing him?"
I heard the clicking of a computer mouse, as she looked up the job records.
"I don't know." She sounded concerned. "Do you know something about this?"
"Eli Collins is in the area. Davy knows it. There's a chance he's trying to hunt Eli on his own. When you find Davy—as I am certain you will—tie him down somewhere and keep him out of this, okay?"
"I will," she said. "Shame?"
"What?"
"It's nice to have you back."
We both thumbed off our phones since that was about as much mutual affection as either of us could handle.
I sat there for a second thinking out my next move. I really was tired, but it wasn't my most pressing problem.
That was how to deal with Jeremy before he harmed Terric.
I needed Jeremy out of the picture. But he was just a cog in the machine that wanted to use Terric. It made more sense to take out the mainspring of the operation. Which meant it was time for me to deliver a personal message to the Black Crane.
I'd been out of the loop on the criminal activity in the city for more than a year. I had no idea where the Black Crane was headquartered now, and it wasn't really something I wanted to ask the police or the Hounds.
I needed someone who knew the dark side of the city and wouldn't rat me out to the law, or anyone else, for that matter.
I knew just the man. I dialed. Waited. He picked up on the fourth ring.
"Cody Miller."
"Cody, this is Shame. I need a favor."
Back in the day, Cody and I had been young, reckless men. His terrible gambling skills had nearly gotten him killed, but his amazing ability with art and magic put him under Allie's dad's employ for a while, where he'd made wondrous things like Stone, the gargoyle. He had also been the best damn forger of magical signatures in the States—maybe in the world. That caught the attention of all sorts of unsavory folk and he eventually managed to get in the way of people, living and dead, who wanted to rule the Authority and magic.
To make sure he wouldn't ruin their plans, he'd been Closed, several times. Finally his mind had broken. For several years, he'd been nothing but a childlike shell of a man. But when our last-ditch effort to save the world included trying to join light and dark magic, he had volunteered to be the Focal—the vessel in which magic would be joined again.
It should have killed him. Instead it mended his mind and destroyed his ability to use magic. Joining magic had changed him in good and strange ways, just like the rest of us. Just like the world.
"A favor? You owe me, Shame. I should be collecting from you."
"What's stopping you, mate?"
"Well, you don't have a job."
"Employment is overrated. This will be worth saying yes."
"What are you up to?"
"I need to go make a point clear to some people."
"People."
"Black Crane."
Silence, while he rolled that over. "Why?"
"It's personal."
"I'm going to need more than that if I'm getting into this with you."
"So that's a yes?"
"No, it's a why."
"They think Terric is their own personal bucket of magic they can dip into any time they want to."
"Please tell me that's not a euphemism."
I couldn't help it, I laughed. "They are using him for the magic he can access, jackass. Life magic. And they want me to stay out of their way."
"So you're going to get in their way."
"What can I say? I have a contrary nature."
"They kill people, Shame. They make people disappear."
"I know. And they think they own Terric." I didn't say any more. Didn't have to. Cody could take the next logical step. As soon as Terric decided to turn on them, to leave Jeremy, or to refuse to do what they wanted, they'd kill him. I wasn't going to let that happen.
"You know I can't use magic," he said evenly.
"Not what I need you for."
"Why do you need me?"
"I want what you know about who's running the syndicate. I want your contacts. That's all."
"Come by. I'll have what you need."
"Thanks."
He hung up. I checked the gun in my pocket. I'd never really used it much, but it was a great attention getter when people lost focus. Yes, it was loaded.
I started the car and took the shortest route to Cody's place over on the east side of town. He'd taken the art scene by storm over the last three years and had made enough off it he'd never have to work again. He might not be able to use magic, but there was something about his art that drew a person to it, and made that person willing to empty out bank accounts for it.
Instead of living big, he had bought a quirky little place on southeast Thirteenth Street, not too far from pubs and coffee shops.
And he'd apparently painted it several shades of purple, blue, and yellow since I'd last been by.
I parked the car in front of the place and Eleanor drifted into the backseat of the car.
Cody was already walking down the porch and past the rosebushes. He was yellow haired, tan, muscled, quick to laugh, and, if I remembered correctly, just a little older than me. He had on several layers of shirts and jackets in browns, oranges, and blue, a dark green scarf tossed over his shoulders that should have looked messy, but somehow came across as fashionable, and was carrying a bowling ball bag.
He opened the passenger door, and ducked down as he got in. "You'll want to head back over the river. West."
"I need an address, I don't need a passenger," I said.
"You need both." Cody slid the seat belt over his shoulder and snapped it in place. "And I want to see you." He turned toward me. "I want to see what you're about to do. With magic. With death." Those blue eyes were just this side of madness, and when he smiled, I realized magic might have done more than just change him.
"Cody," I asked before I put the car in gear, "are you sane?"
"Oh no. But then, neither are you. That's what makes this so fun."
I slowly removed each of my Void stone rings and dropped them into my cup holder. Then I drove west, because damn it, he was right.
# Chapter 22
"That's it?" I asked.
Cody tipped his head to better see around the slight bend in the road where I'd parked. We were in the southwest hills on a narrow one-lane that snaked up along the hillside between cliff-clinging houses with grand views of the city and Mount Hood. We were so close to downtown it seemed like I could spit and hit it, but the way the neighborhood was built to soak up the wide horizon, the city felt like a world away.
The address had led us to an immaculately landscaped spread with a multileveled house that showed some beige and cedar between the expanses of windows. Decks, probably a pool. Rich, without standing out among the other rich.
Houses on both sides had bikes tucked up against porches or doors, or a couple kid toys. Families lived here.
"That's it," Cody said. "Head man goes by Phillip Soto. Second is Rene Schuller. I have other names if you want them."
"I don't. You should stay here."
"Right."
I glanced over at him, surprised he'd agreed so quickly.
He raised one eyebrow. "I _should_ but we both know I won't. Are you taking the gun or the baseball bat?"
"The gun. For show."
"How are you going to play this?"
"No playing. I'm going to walk in there and start killing people until they understand my point of view."
"That's . . . direct."
"Things have changed, Cody. I don't follow Authority rules now." I drove down the hill a bit and parked the car in the driveway. Then I opened the car door, and he did too, climbing out with his bowling ball bag.
"That doesn't sound very different than how things used to be," he said.
"It's different."
Afternoon sunlight slipped yellow and heatless through the scattered clouds. It would be dark in a couple hours. I didn't need the dark to get the job done.
I strode across the tasteful beige driveway to the tasteful beige stairway, up one flight to the glass-on-glass double-wide doorway framed in yet more glass. A balcony wrapped at that level around the wall of glass windows to my right, and a second balcony and wall of windows wrapped the same way on the next story up.
For people who lived on the wrong side of the law, they sure had picked a house that was nearly transparent.
Cody was behind me, not too close, and taking his time to enjoy the architectural details. Eleanor had already slipped into the house ahead of me.
I kicked the door.
Glass did not shatter, but a Break spell took care of the hinges and the whole thing fell inward.
Quick rundown: everything about the place was glass and chrome. A black marble bar curved a crescent to my left, red stools edging the outer arc, the floor was brown marble and a deeply textured beige carpet, and the three men in the room were all reaching for their guns.
I killed them before they even had their weapons in their hands. Lashed out with magic dark and fast, and stopped their hearts.
Cody, behind me, let out a little "huh" sound when the three gunmen collapsed to the floor. I didn't wait to see if he was going to remove himself from the situation, or stick close.
He chose to stick close.
Around the bar, past a glass-tiled alcove holding wine bottles hung by chrome hooks, was a staircase. Just planks of glass going up, cabled wire and metal creating an open banister.
Either I'd been loud or, more likely, the place was wired and I'd been spotted on the security monitors. I could count the hearts pumping up on the next floor—four.
I pulled my gun and strode up to the second level. Short hall that likely ended in bedrooms, the rest of the space opened up in a huge vaulted ceiling level made even larger by the wall of windows overlooking another balcony and the wide green spread of downtown Portland broken through by tall buildings.
Rich wooden floor anchored the room and a stone fireplace stretched off to the left. Two gold couches did nothing to take up the space, and even the mini grand piano seemed dwarfed by the sky and city.
The four heartbeats belonged to four men, three who were standing, and one who was sitting at the gold couch to my right. No one had a gun in their hand, which surprised me. Maybe I hadn't been spotted.
No, they wouldn't be that careless.
I lifted my gun to get their attention.
"Have a seat," I said to the men standing around. "This won't take long."
The three glanced at the man sitting on the couch. Black hair, soul patch, fake tan, he wore a jacket that was obviously designer and sat with his arms across the back of the couch.
"Mr. Shamus Flynn," he said, a slight smile narrowing his eyes. "What brings you to my home?"
"I have a message I'm not sure has been made clear to you, Mr. Soto," I said, guessing correctly who he was. "I don't care how big a network the Black Crane has developed over the last three years. Don't care how powerful or rich you think you are. This is still my town. And there are people within it who are off-limits to you and your goons."
"Of course," he said. "We respect the Authority has certain concerns for its people. Boundaries we respect."
"I'm not talking about the Authority. This is just about me. You've pissed _me_ off. You're using people I care about. I'm here to make you understand that if you don't back off and leave my friends and Terric Conley alone, I will destroy your little pop shop and kill your members one by one."
"Mr. Flynn, please," Soto said. "We are all reasonable men here. Surely we can discuss this without resorting to threats. It is a crude way to do business."
"I want your word you will leave Terric Conley alone."
"I don't think you understand the situation properly," he began.
He didn't finish. Because I killed him.
Drank down his life without even twitching my fingers.
His eyes rolled into the back of his head, his heart stopped. He slumped forward and the remaining three men bolted off the couches, reaching for their guns.
"Keep your hands off your weapons," I said.
"I'd do as he says," Cody said behind me.
I didn't look back, but the men in the room all glanced at him, then held their hands out to the side.
"Let me make myself clear," I said. "I am not here to discuss the situation. I am not here to do business. I am here for an unbreakable guarantee that Terric Conley will be cut free from everything and anyone involved with the Black Crane. Who's going to give me that guarantee?"
"I will see that Mr. Conley is removed from our attention," one of the men said. He was taller than me, probably in his early fifties, with light brown hair going gray and receding at the temples. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and his mouth at the bottom of his long, narrow face was thick-lipped.
"My name is Rene Schuller. I have a position in this organization that can ensure my desires are acted upon."
"And your desire is?" I prompted.
He smiled, even though neither of us was buying it. "To make you happy, Mr. Flynn."
"Good. Make me happy, Mr. Schuller, and I won't go out of my way to kill you."
I could feel their pulses as if they were my own, three thrumming beats that would be so easy to slow, slow, slow until they were gone.
Instead I turned my back and walked across the room toward the stairs. Cody stood to the right of the staircase, holding a sawed-off shotgun at his hip. So that's what he carried in the bag.
"Don't bother," I said to Cody loud enough they'd hear. "I could kill them before they squeezed a trigger."
I paced down the steps and Cody followed behind. Passed the bar and dead bodies, then got into the car.
"You've become a little more blunt, I see," Cody said as he got into the passenger's seat.
"I tried subtle. It chafed." I started the car but didn't back out of the driveway yet.
I drew on the magic deep beneath the city and cast a spell. It was a spell that required quick, scribbling strokes, winding into a tightly coiled center.
A few seconds later, Scatter hung in the air between me and the windshield. I cast it with a push of both hands, and it rolled into the big house. If they had surveillance cameras, they were now fried, the information that might have been stored there scattered and irretrievable.
"In the old days you'd have done that first," he said. "You're getting sloppy, Shame."
"I'm not sloppy," I said, finally putting the car in gear and getting the hell out of there. "If I'd screwed with their cameras before we walked in, they would have known someone was coming and would have been waiting for us. This way, no one got hurt."
"Except the four men you killed."
"Yeah, well. They were in my way."
"That was probably a little over the line, don't you think?"
"What line?" I glanced over at him. He stared calmly ahead, maybe at the city, maybe at whatever else it was that man saw.
"The law's line, to begin with. After that, justice. You didn't know those people, Shame. They might not have been guilty of the crimes you accused them of, crimes you killed them for."
"Cry me a river, Miller," I said. "Everyone in that house was guilty of crimes, whether we know about them or not."
"And you are now guilty of murder."
I let that sit for a minute or two. "Those aren't the first men I've killed in my life. I grew up in the Authority, remember? Ran with the Closers, was a star pupil of Death magic. There are casualties in any war."
"Is that what this is? A war?"
"Not yet. Right now it's just my life."
"So pretty much the same thing?"
"Yeah, pretty much the same," I agreed.
"How long have you been fighting the magic inside you?" he asked.
"None of your business, crazy guy."
That got a smile out of him. "I think it is, but fine. We can talk about something else. When did you suddenly become Terric's guardian angel?"
"Never, because I'm not."
"You just killed four people for him."
"I killed four guys to get them off my back. The Black Crane didn't use to be anything but a couple of punk drug dealers, and now they think they can run this town? They came after me with a baseball bat. They jumped me with a Taser. They might even be behind the missing people cases the police can't crack."
"And yet you never brought any of that up," he said. "You just told them to leave Terric alone."
"I said more than that."
"Not much more."
I drove for a while, heading back toward his house. He was right.
"I know I am," he said.
"What?"
"Right."
"Lay off the mind-reading trick, mate. I'm not impressed."
"Who says it's a trick? It's been a long time since you and I sat down and talked, Shame. You don't know what I'm capable of."
"Let me guess: reading minds?"
"No. Hearts."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means I know you've tried to stay away from Terric. But you're drawn to him. The magic in you and the magic in him can't be separated. You hate it. And you want it. Want to use magic as it should be used—with someone who perfectly matches your power. So much so, you'll kill people if they get in your way."
"Not even close."
He was totally close.
"Well, it's good to see some things haven't changed about you, Shame."
"Oh?"
"You still lie like a rug."
"I will also still pull over this car and make you walk your own ass home if you don't shut up," I said.
Cody grinned. "Just like old times."
# Chapter 23
I dropped Cody off at his place, then drove around the area, just to make sure no one had followed us and that he wasn't in danger. Waited until sundown but didn't see anything out of the ordinary.
Cody couldn't use magic anymore, but I knew he could take care of himself.
Satisfied he would be okay, I headed home.
The inn was up and running full speed tonight. Plenty of diners and people at the bar. We'd started with live music a few months ago, and it looked like tonight the old piano was getting a workout.
It was, in some ways, a clash from my childhood growing up in the apartment above the other side of the inn. Back then it was home. And while it could have been very busy and alive with customers, there were late-night meetings of the Authority members, and, down in the basement around the well of magic hidden there, all sorts of tests and magic events had gone on.
Now the well was still hidden, but it didn't matter. People could tap in to it and magic wouldn't do anything dangerous. So the whole "here's our happy home, which also happens to be sitting on a time bomb" atmosphere of the place was gone.
Honestly? I missed it.
I wove through tables, winked at the pretty blond waitress, who was definitely jailbait, and then headed up to the room I'd been in since Mum had kicked me out of the house proper.
Up a flight of stairs, dragged the bat behind me down the hall.
I paused outside my door. My Shamus senses were tingling.
Something was wrong with the door. For one thing, it was unlocked and wide open. Sure, I'd left the place drugged out of my brain, but someone would have shut it.
Interesting.
I tucked Eleanor's statue under my arm and lifted the baseball bat, resting it above my shoulder.
Walked into the room.
Room looked like my room. Couch covered in clothes and a few books I hadn't reshelved. Small kitchen area clean because who in their right mind would cook when they had an entire restaurant at their feet? Bedroom door cracked open.
That wasn't right.
Eleanor whisked past me and through the door into the bedroom. She came out and shook her head. Mouthed a word I couldn't quite make out.
_What?_ I mouthed.
She said the word again. Rolled her eyes. Walked up to me and held out one finger. I took one hand off the bat and turned my palm up for her.
In icy strokes, she spelled out: D-E-S-S-A.
And if it was Dessa in there, she probably already knew I was in the room.
"I know you're in the room," she said. "Why don't you come on in?"
"Do you have a weapon?"
"Oh, sure. But I promise to keep my hands off my guns this time. That is, if you play nice."
I didn't put down the bat. But I did leave the statue on the side table before pushing the bedroom door open the rest of the way.
Dessa was sitting on the edge of my bed. Fully clothed, which was, I'll admit, a little disappointing. The bed was made, and after I pulled my gaze off her to the room, I noticed she had folded my clothes, set them on the two chairs in the room, and had thrown away all the food wrappers and beer bottles.
"I didn't peg you as the domestic type," I said.
"I didn't think you were into sports." She pointed at the bat.
I grinned, rested the bat next to the door. "So . . . you clean?"
She shrugged and looked down at her hands for a moment before looking back up at me. "I've thought about what I said today. When I told you I wanted to do this alone. I've changed my mind."
"You're making nice so I'll let you in on finding your brother's killer, aren't you?"
"You already told me you'd do that. This is just me making nice."
"A little pleasure before business?" I asked.
"A little pleasure." She held my gaze. "Maybe we don't need business right now."
Huh. I nodded.
"Why did you drop me off at Terric's last night?" I asked.
"He's your friend, right?"
"Sometimes."
"He's more than that too. Life magic?"
"Yes."
"Was I wrong to do it?"
"No. But I wish you would have stayed. I've spent half the day looking for you. Worrying."
"And here I was, in your bedroom all along."
"And here you are. So. What's this really all about?" I waved my hand at my semiclean room.
"I told you. An apology."
"Because . . . ?"
She quirked a smile and tipped her head to one side. "Can you seriously not just take me at face value? Must you question everything I do?"
"It's a failing, my terrible, terrible curiosity."
"I got your attention, didn't I?"
"Is that what you wanted? My attention? Because you already had that."
Her heartbeat was steady, but strong. She licked her lips and the blush that bloomed against her pale skin gave her away. That wasn't fear she was feeling.
She wanted me. Wanted us.
Why had I not slept with her? Sure, there was the whole drugging and kidnapping and bondage, but I liked a girl who knew what she wanted and went after it.
"I want more than your attention," she said softly.
"Tell me you're not going to follow that up by pulling a gun on me." I took a step toward her. Unzipped my hoodie, tossed it on the floor.
She stood. "I said this wasn't about business."
"True." I didn't walk any closer. Waited to see what she'd do.
"Why haven't you asked me where I thought Eli was?" she asked.
"Is that your sexy talk? Because it doesn't sound like sexy talk. It sounds like business talk. I thought you didn't want to mix those."
"I could." A slight smile curved her mouth.
"Go on, then."
"Why"—her finger slipped to the first button on her blouse and she slowly pushed it through the hole. Her shirt opened a bit, revealing skin—"haven't you"—fingers pinched the second button, flicked it through the hole to show just the edge of breast and bra—"asked me about"—she ran her fingertip around the third button, the one that strained to hold the fabric together between her breasts. She didn't unbutton it—"Eli?"
"I don't care about him," I said, advancing on her. "Not right now. Not here."
My heart was pounding hard, heat firing across my body, drawing me awake, alert. She wasn't backing away, wasn't backing down. Just stood there, her hands resting on her hips, watching me. Wanting me.
"What do you want?" she whispered.
I reached out and for the first time, touched her hair—silken fire through my fingers—drawing it gently away from her face.
I stroked my thumb along the corner of her lip, up her cheek, then down to pause at the pulse point on her neck, pressing there just hard enough that I could feel the thump of her heart.
She closed her eyes at my touch, her lips parting as she inhaled.
"I want you."
"You don't even know me," she said with a hitch in her breath.
"I could." I slipped my hand to her waist, fingers angled down to her ass. "If you want me to."
She opened her eyes, looked up at me. And the hope there, the doubt there, made me hold very still. Waiting.
"I want you to."
I exhaled and my heart began beating again. "Look at that," I said softly as I leaned over her. "We agreed on something. It's a miracle."
"You should stop talking and kiss—"
She didn't have a chance to finish that. I drew her against me, all the soft heat and curves of her body. Pushed my fingers up into her hair, my rings muffled by the weight of her curls.
I lowered my head and caught her lips with mine, gentle, slow, teasing. I wanted to savor every sweet texture, every pulse beat that made her. Then I wanted to find out what would unmake her.
She kissed me back, her lips soft, her tongue asking for entrance I willingly gave, then stroking deliciously against mine. She matched my lead, taking it slow, until the hesitancy finally melted out of her muscles and she softened, her arms wrapping around my neck. She stepped into me, her hips against mine.
A pulse of need burned through my bones and made every muscle in my body hard.
I slid my hand down her back, spreading my fingers wide so I could press her closer. Her hands were busy too.
She tugged at my sweater, her hand sliding beneath it only to find my T-shirt. She made a soft moan of disappointment, and I couldn't help smiling a little.
I drew away from the wonder of her lips. "Problem, love?" I dipped my head again, kissed instead the side of her neck, the heat of my lips against her pulse causing her to gasp, the scent of her filling me with an aching hunger.
"I want . . . ," she began.
I bit her tender skin, gently, and she gasped again. Her hands clenched in my sweater, tugging, or maybe to steady herself.
"Shame. Now. I want you."
"Patience," I said. "We have time."
I pulled away, rested my hand on her hip until her eyes focused again. I leaned back, far enough so that I could pull the damn sweater off without hitting her in the face. Dropped it to the floor then muscled out of the T-shirt.
She wasn't standing idle. Her hands pressed against my stomach, and every fiber in my body clenched as she dragged warm fingers downward over my bare skin.
Good God.
Okay, maybe we didn't have as much time as I thought. Maybe I was the one who didn't want to be patient.
The T-shirt joined the sweater.
For a moment, standing there, in the low light of the room, she tensed again. Looked up at me. "What's wrong with your arm?"
I glanced at the bandage. I'd forgotten about it. "Hurt it. Not badly."
"And this?" she asked. "Is this a glyph?"
She traced the old scar on my chest—well, one of them. The scar from when Terric shoved a crystal containing magic into my mortal wound to make me live again. The crystal was gone now—blown apart when I'd died a second time, sacrificing my body and soul at the altar of Death magic so I could kill that son of a bitch Jingo Jingo.
I didn't think about the scar much anymore. Told most women it was from a knife fight, or whatever I thought they'd want to hear. Something that would make me sound strong. Heroic.
But that wasn't what I was going to tell Dessa. I was going to tell her the truth.
"It's not a glyph, but it was put there by magic. Terric, he did something with magic to save my life. This is the scar from that."
She nodded. "He's . . . more than a friend, isn't he? The look on his face when he opened his door and saw you there the other night, Shame. He loves you, doesn't he?"
"I think so," I heard myself saying. Apparently, one truth tonight wasn't going to be enough.
"But you don't love him?"
I took a deep breath. The churning mix of feelings I had for Terric came rushing to the surface as if Dessa had opened a part of me that had been long buried. I cared for him—hell, I'd die for him. That was a kind of love, wasn't it? But the love he wanted wasn't something I could give.
"I just . . ." I shook my head. "I care. He's a brother. But I'll ruin him. One day I'll be his death. Or he'll be mine. And that will ruin him too." I couldn't say any more because there were tears in my eyes.
Well, that was new. I couldn't remember the last time I'd cried. No wonder why I never told the truth.
"Lord." I choked on a laugh. "The things you make me feel, woman." I lifted my hand to wipe my eyes, feeling like a damn idiot.
But her hands stopped me, one on each wrist, pulling my hands away from my face. So she could see me.
She stood there, her gaze shifting, studying my face, studying my very vulnerable pain I knew she could see there, this weakness I had never showed anyone before.
Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed me. No more hesitation, no more slow.
I kissed her back, until her warmth replaced the sorrow inside me. Then I picked her up, laid her down upon my bed, and slowly took every stitch of clothing off her, kissing each part of her as I did so. Slid her panties gently down the silk of her skin, and ran my palms up her thighs, as I kissed the curve of her hipbone.
She unhooked her bra and drew it away, offering all of her body to me. I looked down at her, and she smiled softly.
I lowered my mouth to her breast and gently ran my tongue there, savoring the taste of her skin and the shiver of pleasure that ran through her as her nipple hardened.
Her fingers stroked through my hair; the other hand slid up to my right arm braced beside her. She slipped her fingers between mine and pulled my hand toward her.
I reluctantly shifted away and looked down at her again.
"I want all of you," she whispered. And without breaking eye contact, she removed my rings, one by one, and kissed my bare flesh there.
She was my air, my sensation, my world.
And, for the first time in a very long time, I wondered if this was what love felt like.
• • •
"Dog or cat?" she asked.
We were lying together under the covers, me on my back, her beside me. Our bodies were pressed together, her head tucked against my chest, her fingers tracing the old scars there.
"Both," I said. "Ice cream or sorbet?"
"Sorbet all the way. Have you ever wanted kids?"
"That's the kind of question that makes strong men run, you know."
She stopped tracing my scars and looked up at me. "Want me to get your boots?"
"No, no. I got this one. Kids." I took a deep breath. "I'd never thought I'd live long enough to be a father. So. No."
"You didn't say you didn't want them."
"True."
"I think men who want kids are very, very sexy." She dipped her head. Kissed my nipple. A ripple of pleasure slid through me.
"Well, then, of course I want kids. Loads of them." It came out, strangely, not flippant. For a second or two I lay there trying to imagine myself holding a little chubby-cheeked Flynn baby with her blue eyes.
"Your turn," she said.
"Mmm. _Star Wars_ or _Star Trek_?"
She giggled. "Really?"
"Civilizations have crumbled under this question. I expect you to answer me truthfully."
_"Trek."_
"What?" I said with mock horror. "You're a Trekkie? No. This will never do. We should just say our good-byes now."
"Hold on. I get to ask you another one," she said.
"All right. Make it good."
"Do you want me to tie you to the headboard and do wicked things to you, or do you want to ask me another question?" Her hand moved down my chest, my stomach, my hip.
Mercy.
"I think that's enough interrogation for one night," I said.
"Well, then," she said, "headboard it is."
# Chapter 24
I was freezing. I was also lying in my bed. Naked.
Huh.
I opened my eyes. It was dark out now. My room was lit by the moonlight pushing through the blinds.
Moonlight that showed me I was not alone in my bed.
I grinned. Dessa had every damn one of my covers wrapped around her, tucked tight up to her chin. She was curled on her side, facing me.
She was asleep, and if I weren't shivering so hard my teeth were beginning to rattle, I'd probably do the gallant and manly thing and lie there watching her sleep while I compared her to flowers and sunrises in haiku. Instead I pulled on the covers.
"Wake up, woman. I'm freezing out here."
She smiled, but didn't open her eyes. "Does that mean you'll stop snoring?"
"What? Lies."
She opened those innocent blue eyes and gave me a wicked grin. "Admit it. I wrecked you."
Caught by that look, I couldn't help doing the comparing thing, while my heart tapped up a warm beat. I decided she was a sly little fox, and that her smile was sweeter and hotter than any whiskey I'd ever tried to lose myself in.
I suddenly realized I'd been looking for her for a long, long time.
"Well," I said, swallowing back the emotions that I wasn't sure how to deal with. I glanced up at the silk stockings tied to the headboard and rubbed the faint mark they'd left around my wrist. "If I concede that there was mutual wreckage going on, do I get the password for your blanket fort?"
She rolled her eyes as if considering it, then locked her gaze on me again. "Kiss me nice enough, and I'll think about it."
"That sounds like a fair enough deal." I scooted closer and leaned down like I was going to give it my all.
Instead I reached out, grabbed a handful of blanket, and pushed up onto my knees, pulling the blanket with me.
"Aha!"
She clung to the cover and squealed, pulling back. "We had a bargain!"
"No more bargains, woman," I said as she laughed. "I claim these blankets in the name of Flynn!" I threw the first blanket over my shoulder, which just made her laugh harder.
"I shall de-fleece you. Then I shall have all the blankets, and all the warmth, and you will be at my mercy!"
"Fine." She used her feet and hands to push all the blankets off her, then pulled up onto her knees. "You can have the blankets. I didn't want them anyway." She wadded them up and threw them at my face.
I didn't do much to catch them as they fell in a mess to one side. Because suddenly she was in front of me, on her knees, naked, her hair falling in tousled waves around the curve of her shoulders, the graceful arc of her neck, unafraid as she gave me a challenging smirk. Her hand was to one side, clutching the pillow in preparation of braining me.
I blinked slowly and gave her a predatory grin. "Oh, I like this _much_ better." I reached out, brushed my fingers down the outside of her hip, then down the back of her leg to that particularly sensitive spot behind her knee I'd discovered.
She closed her eyes and goose bumps washed over her skin. She bit her lip and made a needful sound.
I lifted my finger and placed my palm on her hip.
She jerked back, her eyes wide.
I tipped my head. Wondered what had spooked her. If I had hurt her.
"Your hands are ice!" she accused.
"Really? You think? Maybe if someone hadn't stolen every damn blanket."
She gave me a glare that was wholly ruined by her small smile. "Hands off until you shower. Hot shower. No touching until those hands regain human temperatures."
"I am so not showering alone," I said.
"Wouldn't dream of it." She slid out of bed, just inches away from me, careful not to brush against me as she passed by. She stood, stretched her arms up over her head, and arched her back.
I lost track of breathing for a moment or two.
Then that gorgeous woman sauntered off to the bathroom, swinging her hips. She paused, and gave me the come-hither over her shoulder.
Oh, baby. I hithered.
The inn is an old structure and the showers had been put in somewhere around the nineteen twenties. And while they were the height of modern convenience then, a Realtor might categorize them as "quaint" now.
Small for one person, downright cozy for two.
Not that I was complaining. And after my skin had gone up a few degrees so that I could once again use my hands along with my boyish charms, Dessa wasn't complaining either.
• • •
We finally untangled from each other, toweled off, and got back into our clothes. I made her help me find my rings, which were in the bed, under the bed, and one, strangely, in my half-open sock drawer.
Something darted out from under the bed and burrowed under the towel I'd thrown on the floor.
"Uh, Dessa?" I said. "Your hat got loose."
"What?"
I pointed at the towel just as a tiny furred triangular head with a black mask peeked out and made an equally tiny grunt/squeak.
"Your hat," I repeated.
She took a few steps toward the towel. The ferret must have spotted her because it took off at a ridiculous Slinky-like hop-run, darting under the chair, then suddenly reappearing under the pillow on the bed.
"Jinkies! How did you get out of your cage?" She crawled across the bed and snatched the thing up midescape route, which apparently involved trying to wiggle its way into the nightstand drawer.
"Jinkies?"
"That's his name."
"You're a fan of _Scooby Doo_?"
"No. My brother was. He named him Jinkies. He was his." She crawled back off the bed one-handed, the little furry monster in her other hand, then blew her hair out of her face and walked over to me. "Shame, this is Jinkies, the ferret."
The ferret was pretty cute up close. It wriggled around in Dessa's grip, clever black eyes glittering.
"You sure it's not a weasel?"
"Ferret."
"Whatever. You have to admit it's a terrible hat."
Dessa rolled her eyes. "Give me a minute. I'll get him settled."
She padded out of the room, holding the feasel up to her face so she could coo at it.
Yes, I thought it was adorable of her.
Once she was out of the room, I realized I was ravenous. I glanced at the bedside clock. It was an hour and several minutes off, but with some quick math, I figured it was about three in the morning.
As soon as Dessa returned without Jinkies, I caught her hand and walked toward the door.
"Hungry?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Good thing I know how to break into the kitchen." We snuck hand in hand through the darkened hallway and down the stairs.
Eleanor followed along behind us, and I was grateful that she had given us as much privacy as the ties between she and me allowed.
The dining area was empty; the cleaning crew had gone home. And I knew the morning shift wouldn't be in to start the breads and pastries for at least an hour.
I stepped up to the kitchen door, took hold of the handle, lifted, and gave the door a shove with my shoulder. The old lock gave, and the kitchen was ours.
Eleanor stayed on the other side of the door.
"What is your pleasure, lass?" I asked, walking over to the refrigerator. "Anything you want, sky's the limit. Let's see, we have beef stew, hand-tossed pizza, rosemary chicken. Ah, spanakopita. I know what I'm having."
I pulled out the Greek dish, turned.
Dessa was leaning against the counter with a brownie in one hand and a half-eaten piece of cheesecake in the other.
"What?" she mumbled around the cheesecake. "You said anything, right?"
"Why am I not surprised you are an eat-dessert-first kind of gal?"
She swallowed. "No. This is my second course. I had you first." And before I could say anything, she held up the dessert. "Want to taste my cheesecake?" She blinked big, innocent eyes.
Lord, how could I say no? "Why, yes. Yes, I do." I walked over and leaned into her until she had to arch back just a bit. Then I kissed her, holding her lips with mine, stroking my tongue along hers until she exhaled contentedly.
"Good?" she asked as I pulled back a bit.
I licked my lips. "Never had better. But all it did was whet my appetite."
"Oh," she said. "So do you want to . . . ?" She pointed at the door with the brownie and wiggled her eyebrows.
"Good God, woman," I said with a laugh. "Yes, I want that. But a man needs his strength. Let me get some food in my belly." I shoved the entire spanakopita in the microwave, heated it more or less evenly, then set it on the counter and ate damn near half of it before I noticed Dessa had wandered off, because she was wandering back with two beers and a fork in her hands.
"I didn't take the expensive stuff," she said, setting a beer bottle in front of me. She'd already removed the cap.
"Last time you bought me a drink . . ."
"I only poison on a first date," she said. "Share a bite or two of your spanakopita?"
"Help yourself." I pushed the pan closer to her, and she took a bite.
"Mmm. Not as good as the cheesecake, but mmm."
I tipped back the beer took a long draw. God, could a man be happier? I suddenly understood this be-with-one-person thing. The let's-give-this-a-go thing. Coming home to her every day would be like visiting heaven. If heaven were a sweet-eyed, naughty-minded redhead.
I took a deep breath and savored the silence and bliss filling me.
It had been a long time since I'd felt so good.
Dessa picked up her beer, then sidled over to me and slipped her arm around my back. I wrapped my arm around her and kissed her temple. She took a drink of beer, then tucked her head into my shoulder.
"Shame," she said quietly against my chest.
"Hmm?"
"This is nice."
"But?"
"No. Just this is nice," she said. "Better than I expected."
I chuckled. "How badly did you underestimate me, darlin'?"
"No." She took a drink of beer, was quiet for a minute. "I underestimated myself. How . . . how I would feel about you."
"That makes two of us," I said. "I'm surprised how much I feel about me too."
She slapped my stomach.
"Ow," I chuckled.
"What about me?" she asked, shifting so she could look up at me.
I didn't want to lie to her. So I didn't.
"I've never felt this way about anyone else in my life," I said evenly.
She nodded, understanding, I thought, the rarity and truth of that statement. She let go of the breath she was holding. "To tomorrow," she said, holding up her beer.
"And all our days after that." I clinked my bottle against hers, took a drink.
A simple toast to hide a lingering promise. That maybe we'd do this together for a while, see if two lives could become one.
That's when I heard the car engine approaching, the gravel shifting beneath the tires. Someone was coming our way in a hell of a hurry.
Here's the thing about having an assassin as a girlfriend: she didn't ask me who I thought it was, didn't ask if she needed to grab her things, didn't ask what she should do. She was out of the kitchen before I was, and up the stairs for her things.
I went to the window, looked out.
It was Terric's car.
This wasn't good. This couldn't be good.
He parked as close to the door as he could without plowing into the place and left the engine running.
I strode over to the door, wishing I'd put on my boots and grabbed my coat before I'd come downstairs. Or wishing I'd told Dessa to get them for me.
I pulled the door open. "What's wrong?" I asked.
Terric was shock-pale, his hair pulled back in a band tight against his head. His eyes were bloodshot red, and his heart was pumping too fast, erratic.
"Victor," he choked out. "He's been hit."
"How bad?" I asked.
Terric just shook his head.
"Fuck. Where is he? Terric, where is he?" I reached out, dropped my hand on his shoulder. My touch seemed to help him focus. He swallowed.
"I don't know, Shame. I think his house."
I didn't ask him why he had come all the way out to the inn before going to Victor's to check on him. I didn't ask how he knew he was hurt. I'd find that out on the way over.
"Give me your keys."
He dropped them into my hand.
"Let's go," I said.
"Here are your shoes." Dessa was right behind me.
I turned. She'd put on her coat and shoes, and from the cut of her jacket, and the duffel bag in one hand, I knew she also had her guns.
But along with her things, she'd had the foresight to bring me socks, shoes, my sweater, and the baseball bat.
I loved a woman who was steady in a crisis.
"Get him in the car," I said. "I'll drive."
Dessa took Terric's hand and said something to him in a soothing tone. He went with her, and sat in the backseat of the car, which showed me how confused he was. She got into the front.
I pulled on socks and boots, pulled on my coat, and picked up the baseball bat. Then I locked and shut the door and ran to the car, Eleanor right behind me.
I slid into the driver's seat, adjusted it for my legs instead of Terric's, and got us out of the parking lot as fast as I could.
"Tell me what happened, Ter," I said. "Tell me what you know about Victor."
"I got a call. From Davy. He only got a few words out. That Victor had been hit."
"Did you call Victor?"
"Yes. He didn't answer."
I was taking the fastest route I could to Victor's house, and was going eighty-plus. This time of night at least I didn't have to worry about traffic.
"Did you call the police?"
"N-no."
"You just drove straight out to the inn?"
"Yes. You were there." He was starting to sound a little clearer. I don't know how he'd managed to drive in the state of mind he was in.
"Do you have your phone?" I asked.
He sat up a straighter and checked his coat pockets. "Jesus," he said in a shaky voice.
"Hand it to Dessa."
"I can do it," he said. "Hello," he said to Dessa, as if just noticing her in the car.
"Hey," she said back.
"Call Stotts," I said. "Dessa, do you have a phone?"
I'd left mine in the room, but she pulled hers out.
"I need you to dial this number." I told her Allie's number. She dialed.
I took the phone from her, each ring an eternity. What if Victor wasn't the only one who'd been hit?
Stotts must have answered almost immediately because Terric was already talking, and as far as I could tell, his voice was steady, and he was giving clear information.
"Jones," Zay answered.
"This is Shame," I said. "Victor's been hit. Davy got a message to Terric. We're on our way to Victor's now—"
I braced, ran a light at speed, and avoided a head-on collision with a garbage truck.
"Shame?" Zay said.
"Keep your eyes open and be ready in case anything's coming your way," I finished. "I'll call in when we know more."
"Keep it tight," he said. "Listen to Terric."
I glanced in the rearview mirror. Terric looked like he'd finally shaken off his confusion and had gotten his head straight. "I'll do that," I said.
I handed Dessa the phone, then slowed to seventy or so as I navigated the neighborhood streets.
Came up on Victor's house. The cops hadn't made it here yet. We were out of the car before the engine stopped growling.
Dessa pulled her gun. My gun was also somewhere in my room with my jacket. Neither Terric nor I carried any weapon other than the magic at our fingertips. I glanced over at him, checking to see if he was together enough for this.
"I'm clear," he said without looking at me.
I got to the front door first. It was locked. But then, if Eli had used that gate technology, he wouldn't need to open the door.
"Shoot it," I said.
Dessa stepped up, shot it without hesitation. Then she shouldered into the room, gun raised.
Damn it. I did not want her in harm's way.
And there was the drawback to having an assassin girlfriend.
"Victor!" I yelled. No answer. "Fuck."
I took off running to the living room and kitchen. Terric ran past me to the bathroom and bedroom.
Victor was an uncle to both of us—no, more than that. A father when my father died. A trusted counselor when Terric had lost his ability to use Faith magic. A steady wisdom and calm voice throughout all the pain and struggle and uncertainties of magic, the Authority, and our place in the world.
He had, in a very real way, made us the men we were.
He trusted us, demanded the best of us. He stood by us when we took on the challenge of building a world where magic was no longer a secret.
I knew the moment when Terric found him. Knew it even before I heard Terric's anguished moan. Could feel the pain and sorrow like a shot straight through Terric's heart, tearing through mine.
Victor was dead.
I knew it as I ran to Terric, knew it as I stepped through the doorway to the bedroom. Terric knelt on the floor next to the bloody, broken form of Victor.
Everything went silent. I couldn't hear Terric pleading, couldn't hear Dessa jogging our way, couldn't hear my own heartbeat. The world was smothered.
I closed my eyes, hovering there in that mad lucidity.
The monster within me stretched, opened its arms, and latched each slick tentacle around me, drawing me into it, into the nothingness where it promised blood, destruction, and vicious release. Where it promised I would never have to feel pain again. Where it promised the terror of others would fall upon me like a numbing salve.
"Shame?" Dessa's hand rested on my arm.
I opened my eyes.
And the world, the room, pounded down around me.
Terric, on the phone, blood on his hands, blood streaked through his hair where he must have pulled at it with his fingers. Dessa at my side, her gun still in her hand and aimed at me.
"Dessa," I said. "Are you . . . are you all right?"
"I'm not the one on fire." She nodded at my hand.
I lifted my right hand. The rings were glowing red, but as I watched, the burn was fading like coals dusted at the edges.
"He's sane," Terric said to Dessa as he pocketed his phone. Then, in a voice louder than that whisper, "Dessa, put the gun down. He could kill you before you pulled the trigger."
She hesitated. Finally lowered the gun.
I turned. Looked into blue eyes that were not frightened—but were very wary.
As she had every right to be.
"Did I hurt you?" I said with what gentleness I could manage.
She searched my eyes. I did not know what she saw there. Maybe Death magic. It was there, just behind my will, lapping at my control. Pressing and promising.
She held up her hand, turned it one way and the other to examine the skin. "Felt like all the skin burned off when I touched you."
"And now?"
She curled her fingers to her palm. "Everything works." She pulled her shoulders back.
"Don't touch me for a while," I said. "I'm in control, but it's not solid."
She nodded.
I finally turned my full attention to Victor.
He was on his back, in his pajama pants, his shirt cut to shreds, the edges of it burned. Blood soaked the carpet. Terric was kneeling in it.
I walked the few steps to Victor's prone body. It seemed to take three long years before I reached his side. I rested my hand on Terric's shoulder and for a second, he leaned his head against my arm.
I felt his sorrow as if it were my own. Because it was.
I wanted to scream. Instead Terric whispered a prayer. It was the words of a very old spell—Peace.
Grief knotted my throat and clenched my gut. I didn't have time for grief. I couldn't have time.
So I pushed it away, fed it to the monster within me. Any pain would sate it, even my own.
Terric lifted his head away from me and stood as I knelt, trading places, his hand falling now on my shoulder. Perhaps it seemed an odd thing, the way we moved in tandem without thought, but it was natural as breathing to me.
"The marks," Terric said.
I moved the edge of Victor's shirt away, uncovered the shredded mess that was his torso. He had been carved, and carved, and carved again.
Spells: Pain, Refresh, Fire, Refresh, Crush, Break, Sever. Refresh, and Refresh again. Every dark agony cut into him in a continuous circuit of unending torture.
The bastard hadn't even had the fucking decency to carve Death into his skin. He had carved Life instead. He had squeezed every last ounce of pain out of Victor.
And in the blood around his body was another spell. But from the ragged streak trailing off to one side, it was clear that the spell had been interrupted before it was finished.
"Eli," Terric and I said at the same time.
It wasn't a name anymore.
It was the shape of the thing we were going kill.
# Chapter 25
I paced. Smoked. Just outside his room. Just over the threshold of his death.
Waiting. For Terric to finish talking. Couldn't remember who was here worth talking to. Didn't care.
Cigarette burned down. I flicked it to the fireplace as I paced past, lit the next one. Hungry. Angry.
Because there wasn't room in me for grief.
Just rage.
The floor cracked like ice under my feet. I'd drawn all that could be drawn out of the wooden floor, out of the bracers beneath them. Had drawn all of the moisture from the air. Three plants in the room: dead. The bushes outside: withered.
Six people in the house, only one was dead: Victor. But there would be more if I stayed longer.
Rings on my fingers hissed and snapped as I turned and followed my anger back to the other side of the room.
This house was my cage. And I was an animal who wanted out. But I'd stay here until Terric told me differently.
Because I'd promised Zay I would listen to him.
I didn't know if Terric called Zay or not. Hadn't been paying attention to the bedroom's blood-covered walls, hadn't listened while the police came in and Terric told me to stay in the living room and kill no one. Had no idea where Dessa was.
Better that I didn't.
I was anger. Anger that keened for the hunt. Eli had said he'd give us a day, maybe less.
Eli had lied. He was never going to give us time.
Terric was walking my way, I could feel it before I saw him.
Strode into the room. Still had a streak of dried blood in his white hair, blood on his jeans, his shirt. Victor's blood.
His eyes were as hard and steady as his stride.
Didn't stop, didn't pause. Walked right up to me. Stuck one hand against my shoulder, and grabbed the back of my neck with the other.
"I need you to come back, Shame," he growled. "If you can't fight the magic in you, I will."
The rings on my fingers hissed with magic. The stone on his chest caught white fire.
Life and Death pushed between us like two magnets repelling each other while being shoved together.
Then Life slipped like a clean knife to clash with Death in the middle of my head.
It hurt.
And with pain came clarity.
"...are you clear on that, Shamus?" he was saying.
"I got the last half," I said.
"We are going to let the police take care of this. You and I are going home together so I can keep an eye on you."
Oh, that was not going to fly. Terric's fingers dug into the back of my head, and I realized he wasn't telling _me_ this. He was saying it for someone else.
"Jesus," I said. "Fine. But you are not my fucking boss, Conley."
His expression washed in relief. He must have thought that I wouldn't catch on to his lie and help him tell it. Or maybe he didn't think I'd return to a semblance of sanity.
Right now I'd do fucking anything to get out of this house. Because I had a man to kill.
We had a man to kill.
Terric let go and stepped back, his body language falling into that corporate clean-cut, responsible, trustworthy falsity. Sure, sometimes Terric was all of those things. But right now I knew he wanted Eli just as dead as I did.
"I'll keep him for the night," Terric said. "Please let me know if you get any leads on this."
"I will," Detective Stotts said, not unkindly. "We upped the drive-bys on Allie and Zay's house too. Do you want us to send a unit past your place every hour or so?"
"No," Terric said smoothly. "If anything happens, we'll break magic and Hold him."
"Are you sure you can do that?" Stotts looked over at me.
I just gave him a slow blink.
"I can control him," Terric said, meaning me, not Eli. "I promise you."
Stotts nodded, but didn't look away from me. "If you have any trouble at all, call me. We can lock him up and put him under so far he won't even know what his name is."
I couldn't help it, I smiled.
I could never forget my name because it was stamped in the face of every person I saw: Death.
Stotts's gaze finally skittered away. With a nod to Terric, he walked back to the other beating hearts in the room.
"Let's go, Shame," Terric said.
He walked toward the door. I followed, the floor snapping like old glass beneath my boots.
Then we were outside. His car was there. And so was another pulse beat—Dessa.
"I'm going with you," she said.
"This isn't any of your business," Terric said.
"We're hunting Eli, aren't we?" I said, my voice a little too low.
Terric didn't say anything, just shot me a look.
"She wants him just as dead as we do. She comes."
Terric didn't argue. Not with so many police here, not with the ambulance and EMTs pushing the gurney and body bag.
Jesus.
Terric shoved me firmly toward the passenger seat and Dessa got in the back. Eleanor clung to the corner by the window.
Terric drove. I didn't know where. Probably his house in case any of the police had a Hound on us. I was out of cigarettes, and in no place to be carefully siphoning the heat off the engine. I crossed my arms and tried to push the world away, tried to push Terric away, Dessa away. Tried to push the whole damn living city of Portland over the edge of my awareness. But there was too much within my reach to consume, to hurt, to kill.
Far too much to ignore.
Terric's hand landed on my upper arm, squeezed. He fed Life magic into me in a steady stream. I didn't want it, didn't want the edge of my anger to dull. Thought about doing the same to him. Let him try to keep up with the death I poured into him.
I glanced at his face. Stone cold, flat, and expressionless as he drove. The single tear track he hadn't wiped away was the only thing that betrayed his grief.
So I kept my hands to myself, let him pour Life magic to sate the hunger in me, and the hunger in him.
By the time we got to his house, I was no less angry, but I was a hell of a lot more in control.
I pulled my arm out of his grasp, and he put his hand back on the wheel, saying nothing.
"Are we going in?" I asked.
"Yes." Terric got out. I followed, Dessa next to me.
Up the steps to his door, then in his house.
Jeremy was not here. I could tell because I didn't sense his heartbeat.
Once I was inside, I paused at the door, tipped my head down with my hand still on the doorknob, and listened to the world outside.
Not for the sound of cars. For the beat of a heart.
I wanted to know if Stotts or Clyde had put a Hound on us, and I wanted to know where that Hound might be.
It took about five minutes. Then I felt it. A heartbeat about two houses down. Close enough, probably in a car where, she, I guessed, could watch us. And farther off, a second beat.
Hounds never traveled alone. Sure, only one of them would work a job, but there was always a shadow, always another Hound watching after the first.
"Two," I said as I walked into Terric's living room.
"Two what?" Dessa asked.
I looked at Terric. Didn't have to explain. "Allie said Sunny is running things since Davy is AWOL."
"She's looking for Davy," he said. "I'll call Dash."
Terric got busy doing that, telling Dash that he needed to call off the Hounds. We'd done this just a few other times when we had first taken over the Authority. While I liked the eyes and ears of a Hound, there were times when we didn't want even our closest allies knowing what we were doing.
Times like tonight.
So we'd set up an agreement with the Hounds. We'd only call them off if it was of utmost importance. The respite lasted exactly twenty-four hours, and we'd never hunt one of their own.
Yes, we had a list of who the Hounds considered part of the pack. Allie and Zay fell on that list. So did my mum, and ironically, both Terric and I.
Eli was nowhere on that list.
Terric hung up. I paced, waiting for the heartbeats to go away.
Took less than a minute. Both Hounds cleared out.
"Tell me why she's with us, Shame," Terric said. Not angry, no, not at all. He had become very precise, as if all his thoughts and movements were razor sharp, heartlessly cold, deadly. Man was in a killing mood.
"She knows where Eli is."
"I think I know," she corrected.
"And we're lovers," I added.
Dessa raised her eyebrows and stared at me. Terric took a moment to study her. She might not think it was important that Terric know what I felt for her, things I knew he was getting right now through our connection, but if she was going into a fight with us, I wanted Terric to know that she was important to me, and was to be protected.
"Understood," he said. "Show me what you have in the duffel."
Now she stared at him. "Why?"
"I'm not going to take anything. I just want you to have enough of the right things with you to make a difference. Sooner would be better. We need to be moving."
She looked back at me.
"If we know what you have, we know how to cover you. Simple as that."
She lifted the duffel, put it on top of his coffee table, and pulled it open.
Terric looked into the bag and so did I.
Quick inventory: two Glocks, a couple throwing knives, a hunting knife, the rifle, and a sawed-off shotgun.
"Looks like you've got it covered," he said. "Might want to put the Void stone on, in case there's magic."
She reached in, pulled out a beaded necklace with a silver-dollar-sized Void stone hanging in the center of it, and drew it over her head.
"So, where is he?" I asked her.
"I said I might know," she said. "There's a warehouse down on Macadam."
"Why do you think he's there?" Terric asked.
"I got a tip from a friend."
"Who?" Terric asked.
"A Hound. She can be trusted."
"How long ago did you get this tip?"
"Yesterday morning."
"It's a start," I said.
Terric nodded. "I found this in Victor's hand." He reached in his pocket and handed me an unused hypodermic needle. There was a label on it with a glyph for Clarity crossed out by a glyph for Chaos.
I held it up to the light. Looked like the liquid had flecks of dust in it. Whatever was in that needle was what had sent me barefoot across Portland, mindlessly destroying things. Victor had just put one of Eli's weapons into our hands.
"Are we taking the time to analyze it now?" I asked.
"No," Terric said. "But we will."
I handed it back to him. "And not with the police?"
"We don't need the police," Terric said. Then, "I'm going to get into something clean. You two need anything?"
"We're good," I said.
He left the room and I turned to Dessa. "I'm suddenly wanting to talk you out of this. Any chance you'll listen?"
She had pulled a footstool up to the coffee table and was going over her weapons.
"You know how you said Terric is like a brother to you?" she said.
I waited.
"Well, my brother _was_ my brother. We were close. And I am going to kill Eli for him."
"Right," I said slowly. "Something I've been meaning to ask you. Why did you come back to me after you had the lead?"
"Because I knew you'd killed other powerful men." She looked up at me, snapping the last piece of the rifle in place. "With magic."
"So," I said, "you knew you could kill him with bullets . . ."
"But I got nothing when it comes to magic. And people like you and Terric—"
"Breakers," I said.
"—'Breakers,'" she agreed, "can kill him with magic."
"Was that the only reason you came back?"
She considered me a second. Then stood and kissed me. When she finally pulled away, she tipped her eyes up to meet my gaze. "No. Last night was real. Wasn't a part of the rest of this. However this goes down, that stays the same."
"People might get hurt," I said. "I might be the one hurting them."
"I know."
Terric was out of his room, new jeans, new black T-shirt under a black peacoat. He handed me a gun. Had one of his own.
Dessa's eyes widened up.
"Sometimes the direct kill is the best," I said. I shrugged out of the sweater, leaving me in just a gray T-shirt. I didn't need a coat. I had my hate to keep me warm.
Terric strode to the door and I followed him, Dessa at my side. Back to the car.
I'd barely noticed Eleanor, drifting with me, finally caught the glow of her out of the corner of my eyes. She looked like she'd been crying, though I'm not sure how that could be for a ghost. I didn't think she had liquid in her.
Still, the way she moved, the bend of her head. Everything about her was sorrow.
She'd known Victor too. Had spent some time training in magic with my mum and him. "You see something I don't," I said to her. "Tell me."
Eleanor noticed I was noticing her and nodded. She pressed her hand over her heart. I didn't know if she was indicating her promise, or saying it was broken.
"I will," Dessa said.
"I know," I said to Eleanor.
Terric didn't say anything. Didn't have to. He knew who I was really talking to.
Here's the thing. I've spent a good amount of time doing my best to put distance between Terric and me, for both our survival.
But right now that wasn't my goal: survival. My goal was to take Eli down. And if I knew exactly what Terric was doing, if not exactly what he was thinking, it made it easier to get things done. No hesitation. No slack. So the closer together he and I were right now, the better it was.
He drove. I sat in the passenger seat, Dessa behind us.
Terric didn't break any speed limits getting to the warehouse, so as not to attract the cops, but he pushed a few lights. From the color of the sky, we still had about an hour before the sun rose.
Good. I did my best work in the dark.
"This it?" Terric asked.
The warehouse didn't look abandoned. It was being retrofitted into offices or maybe apartments, construction equipment surrounding it.
"This is where she said he was," Dessa said.
"Did you come by here and look for him earlier?" I asked. "Before you came to my place tonight?"
"No," she said. "I wanted to talk you into coming with me. That didn't go quite how I planned it."
"Outcome was the same," I said, opening the door.
"Outcome was better," she said softly.
I could almost feel my heart again, captured in her voice.
Terric was through the gap in the chain-link fencing. Dessa and I caught up with him.
There was some logic in splitting up to cover all exits, but on a retrofit building, there would be more exits than we could cover.
So I listened for heartbeats.
Felt Terric's probably beating in time with mine. Felt Dessa's. There were more in the buildings around us. A few in the only car that passed by. But in the warehouse, there was only one.
"He's in there," I said for Dessa's sake.
We pulled our guns. I could use magic one-handed. I intended to do so.
Terric and I pushed through the door, walked step in step, guns raised.
The inside was gutted. Framework where walls once were, and maybe where walls were going to be. Plastic draped from the ceiling, rubble on the floor.
Noted it all absently. I was headed for that heartbeat. Eli's heartbeat.
Corner room. To the left. There was a door here, hung half-shut. Terric kicked it open. He and I pushed into the room, arms straight, guns locked on the heartbeat.
But the huddle of clothes in the corner was not Eli. It was a girl, well, a young woman, and she was unconscious.
We lowered our guns and Terric crossed the room to her. "She the only one you feel, Shame?"
I listened, let the monster stretch out to feel lives it could consume.
"Yes. Do you know her?"
He had turned her face and was checking her pulse. The blood from her head was making it hard to see her features clearly, but she seemed faintly familiar to me.
"It's Gillian," Dessa said, rushing forward to her. "She's my Hound. Holy shit. Is she okay?"
Terric ran his fingers quickly over her head, checked her neck, and finally pressed two fingers on her chest, just below her collarbone. He closed his eyes and I could see the yellow-white magic responding to his touch. Healing magic poured into her as he whispered a prayer.
Dessa inhaled a hard breath.
"He's healing her," I said. "She told you Eli would be here?"
She nodded. "Who would do this? She's just a kid."
"Stay here." I strode through the building looking for any sign of Eli—what he'd been doing here, which way he'd left. Wished I'd brought a flashlight.
Screw it. I drew a light spell, filled it with magic. It wrapped around my left hand with scrolls of white that rolled upward like licking flames. It lit up a twenty-foot space around me.
"That's . . . wow," Dessa said behind me. So much for her staying with Terric.
I turned on my heel. "I asked you to stay with Terric."
"He told me to go with you."
"Jesus." I made quick work of the place, figuring the light was going to be pretty easy to spot this time of night through the broken windows. I did not want a nosy neighbor calling the cops.
And then I saw the sign I was looking for. Next to a door that faced south, a glyph was drawn. It was the glyph for Direction, one of the finding spells. It was definitely Eli's handiwork.
Right there in the dirt was something else: a turquoise bead. I bent, picked up the bead. I knew where I'd seen it before. It was from Davy's necklace.
# Chapter 26
Terric was on the phone with Dash when I walked into the room. "...wait. No, just a Hound, or you. That's best."
He flicked the phone off. "What did you find?"
"Sign that says Eli's south of here. Direction glyph. Also this." I walked over to him, dropped the bead in his hand.
He frowned.
"It's from Davy's necklace. Broken."
"Davy was here. So was Eli," Dessa said. "Great. But where did they go?"
"I don't think Davy left willingly," I said.
"Why?" Terric asked.
"His truck is out back."
Terric swore. "He shouldn't be hunting Eli alone in the first place."
"Who's coming for Gillian?" I asked.
"Dash. He's close, and it won't involve the Hounds. He'll take her to the emergency room, then call the Den. Go search Davy's truck in case he had a chance to leave something there for us."
I didn't even bitch at him for ordering me around. I crossed the structure then jogged out across the lot that was still mostly paved. The fact that the truck was parked so close and in the open bothered me. Davy wasn't that reckless. So either he had thought there was no one inside, or he had come here, not looking for Eli, but looking for Gillian instead.
"What are you thinking?" Dessa asked. I remembered she was with me, glanced over at her.
Had her gun in her hand and was keeping an eye on the buildings around us.
I tried the door on the truck. Locked.
"It's not like Davy to drive into a situation and park in the open. Makes me think he didn't know what he was walking into. And that's even less like him."
"Conclusion?" she asked as I checked to see if the other door of his truck was unlocked.
"Maybe a trap. Coming to find Gillian, an injured Hound, and got ambushed."
"I don't think he was looking for Gillian," she said, handing me a slim-jim from her duffel.
"Because?"
"Gillian was following Davy."
"Is that what you hired her for?"
"Yes, but I told her not to engage."
The lock popped and I pulled the heavy door open. "After the morgue, right? You saw how much Davy hated Eli, knew he'd go after him alone."
"I had a hunch."
"Wish you would have shared it," I said, climbing into the cab.
"I didn't know you as well back then," she said, getting into the cab from the other side after I unlocked the door. "Or I would have done it differently."
There were a couple gas receipts, insurance, registration, and random papers but nothing else that indicated Davy had left clues in his vehicle for us to find.
A car rolled up on the other side of the chain-link. Killed the engine.
Dash got out. He was wearing a dark leather jacket, dark jeans, and boots. And the vibe he gave off had nothing to do with the office. He looked like a man who could handle himself in a fight.
I suddenly wondered if he had combat training. Something I'd never asked him about, though I should have.
"Where's Gillian?" he asked, coming up on me and Dessa.
"This way." I took him in the building.
He and Terric managed to get Gillian awake and aware enough, she spoke, guessed the right number of fingers, and understood Dash was going to take her to the hospital. Even did some moving of her feet so we didn't have to carry her.
After we got her settled in the back of Dash's car, Terric paced back toward the warehouse.
"Listen," I said to Dash. "I've kicked a few hives. I want you to be careful."
"Which hives?" Dash asked.
"Black Crane."
"Define 'kick.'"
"There's been a change in leadership, 'cause the other guy's dead."
He nodded. He knew what that meant. "Jeremy?"
"Haven't gotten my hands on him yet. But I will. Don't tangle with him. Promise me."
"I promise."
"Be careful," I said.
He nodded. "Take care of him."
Dash left and I strode over to Terric.
"Show me the glyph," he said.
I took him to the south door.
"It's Eli's work," Terric said. "But why didn't he complete it?"
I looked closer. He was right.
"Maybe the better question is, who do you think he put this here for?" Dessa asked.
"Me," I said the same time Terric said, "Shame."
Which meant he'd left it undone so I could finish it.
I didn't know that I liked his calling card. Yes, it was a Directional glyph. I figured it was a trap, but we wouldn't know for sure until I triggered it.
"Might want to step back," I said.
I stuck out my finger, drew over the glyph to get the flow of his signature, then closed the arc at the end of the spell.
The spell flashed, and in the afterburn I could see an address.
"Shit!" Terric yelled.
The air cracked. Just outside the door stood a man. Not Eli. This was an older man.
I'd seen him. I knew his face. He was the old man in the missing person report. The one with the tattoo for Impact.
He stared at us with blank eyes as if he didn't see us, or the world around him. Then he raised his hands, thumbs crossed, fingers spread.
And said one word.
An explosion hit, throwing us across the room, and bringing the building crashing down around us.
# Chapter 27
Concrete, wood, metal roared down around us, slammed into us.
Terric and I were on our feet, hands raised, standing back to back. I pulled Dessa up against me.
"Hold on," I said.
I reached down below the building's foundations to the magic flowing there as Terric did the same.
We didn't just draw on magic, we ripped it out of the ground. Forced it to sever, to scream and break.
I didn't have to talk to Terric about what we were doing. We each knew what the other was thinking, knew what we had to do: Shield.
We cut that protection into the air with wide strokes and left a burning, dripping trail of magic behind. Shield snapped into a barrier around us, like an unbreakable bubble.
Just in time. The ceiling beams shoveled down, bounced off the Shield, and fell to either side.
Terric was chanting.
I was concentrating on pulling on enough magic to feed the spell and keep it strong.
The other thing about magic—doesn't matter how powerful you are. If you lose your concentration, you lose the spell.
We could try walking, but if we stumbled, the Shield would break and we'd be crushed. So we waited.
Turns out it doesn't take long for half a building to collapse.
Felt like an eternity.
We didn't wait for the dust to clear. We pushed and climbed our way out of the rubble, before the other half of the building came tumbling down too.
Made it out by the car.
There was no one around us. Yet.
"That man did that?" Dessa asked. "One man?" She was a little louder than necessary, maybe a little panicked. I didn't blame her.
"Yes," Terric said, striding as quickly as he could around scattered debris to the car. "Go," I said, grabbing Dessa's arm and following Terric.
"H-how?" she asked. "He said one word and blew up a building."
"I was there," I said. "I don't know how he did it."
"Can you find him? Did you see where he went?" Dessa got into the car and so did I, in a hurry to get away from the very loud falling-building noises that had undoubtedly woken everyone in a square mile.
Terric peeled out fast, took a side street, slowed, and crept along a normal speed until we were a good mile away. Then he put on the speed. Heading south.
"Shame?" Dessa said. "Can you find that man?"
"No," I said. "I've got nothing to go on. If he's around, he's just another heartbeat in the crowd. But Eli planted an address in the afterburn of the Direction glyph I triggered. Did you see it?"
"I was shielding my eyes," she said.
"Terric?"
"I saw it. The hospital."
The address burned in that spell pointed straight at OHSU, a medical complex and teaching hospital built beneath, on top of, and into a hillside south of downtown.
"Hospital?" Dessa asked. "Why?"
"Davy has a theory," I said. "That Eli was using the labs, or operating out of the hospital."
"Again, why? What does he need a hospital for?"
"People," Terric said.
"Test subjects," I clarified.
"Testing what?"
I could tell from Terric's body language that he didn't want me to say anything. But as far as I was concerned, she was in this just as deep as we were. Wanted him dead. Would do bad things to make sure that happened.
"Testing people," I said. "People who were poisoned by tainted magic three years ago."
"Tainted magic? Is that even a thing?"
"It was," Terric said.
"How do you taint magic?"
"It helps if you decide you want to change magic into a weapon," I said. "It helps if you are Breakers who are crazy and come back from the dead."
"Like you and Terric."
Damn. I hadn't drawn those parallels. From the look Terric shot me, he hadn't thought of us that way either: Breakers who had come back from the dead. But she was right.
"No," Terric said. "We aren't nearly evil enough to poison magic. To destroy the world for our pleasure."
She was silent. I could see her reflection in the rearview mirror. She had that reality-upside-down look on her face like when I'd told her her brother had gone around stealing people's memories with magic.
She caught my gaze. I waited. Would she see the man in me or the monster? I gave her a soft smile.
"All right," she said. "Do you know why? Not why Breakers tainted magic. Do you know what results Eli is looking for in the tests?"
"Maybe men who can blow up buildings with a single syllable," I said.
"Jesus," she whispered. Then she nodded. "Okay, what's the plan?"
Neither Terric nor I said anything.
"At least give me an idea of what weapons he has at his disposal."
"If that man is any indication, magic," Terric said. "As strong as Shame and me. Maybe technology that enhances magic, which would make it stronger. We don't know anything else."
"Do you know anything else?" I asked her.
"No."
"Dessa," I said, catching her gaze in the rearview mirror again. "Do you know anything that will help us?"
_Come on, baby. Don't leave us in the cold._
"I know what my brother told me. But that's all secondhand information. I can't prove anything."
"Don't care," Terric said. "Tell us."
"Thomas said that there was a man under observation. He was . . . creating new technology for defense abroad and for Homeland Security. But it was biotech. Thomas said that man was the most powerful man he'd seen use magic. And the most ruthless. Next to you, Shame."
"Did he tell you about us? About Breakers?" Terric asked.
"Yes."
So that might have been our leak into the government. Thomas, or maybe her.
"And you told your superiors?" Terric went on, pressing the point.
"It was my job to pass on information." She tipped her chin up.
Jesus, she knew she was the reason her brother had been killed. No wonder she wanted Eli dead.
"Did they send you to bring in Shame and me?" Terric asked. "Was that a part of your job too?"
"No," she said. "I left. As soon as I found out about Thomas. I gathered as much information as I could without triggering any traces, covered my trail, and I left. I made it look like I was going to South Dakota to visit family, and then into Canada to see friends. I don't think they followed me. I don't think I led them to you." That last wavered with doubt. She was worried. Worried she'd get us killed.
"They already knew where we were," I said calmly. "They've known since before we broke magic yesterday for Zay and Allie. And that building, Gillian's injuries—nothing but a trap."
"To kill you?" she asked.
"If Eli's involved," I said, "it wasn't meant to kill us. It was meant to test us."
"Which means the address will be another trap," Terric said.
"He wanted us to find Brandy," I said. "Maybe he's leading us to her."
"Maybe she's the trap," Terric said.
"Who is Brandy?" Dessa asked.
"She's the other half of Eli, the person that makes him a Breaker," I said.
"Like Terric and you."
"Yeah, like Terric and me."
"And you're going to save her?" she asked. "If she's half of what Eli is, how do you know she isn't behind all this?"
"She's insane," Terric said quietly.
"Lots of powerful people are," she said.
True.
We were silent as Terric took the turn to the hills.
"We kill Eli," Terric said. "That's what we do."
The monster in me pushed. One death would be good, Eli's death. But two deaths would be better.
"We kill Eli," I said, "after we make him hurt."
"After we make him hurt," Terric agreed.
Dessa just turned and looked out the window. But I saw her nod. This was, I realized, going as she wanted it to. For a bare moment I wondered if she was playing us. If she was part of the government testing us to see what we could do together. If she had been sent out to bring us in at any price.
Maybe the cautious man would hold on to that idea and test it. But I knew her. She was here for revenge, a very personal revenge. She was not under orders.
"What are we looking for?" she asked. "A car? A sign?"
"Eli." Terric pulled over on the shoulder. "Track?" he asked me.
"Yes."
We'd already broken magic. If there were guns waiting for a signal, they were probably pointed at our heads. Didn't care. They could bring all the world's weapons at us.
I intended to see Eli breathe his last breath.
We traced Track, the ragged edges of the spell flicking like questing limbs that snapped out as if the entire glyph were floating on water. Pulled on magic. Filled the spell until it hummed a hot orange. Set it free with a push.
It lifted and passed through the windshield of the car, leaving a thin thread of the spell connected to the dash as it pulled ahead of the hood like a dog tugging a leash.
Terric followed it, the spell bobbing or leaning left or right, but never out of our sight. One of the advantages to Track was it would find a route that feet or wheels could follow, not just drift off over treetops or rivers like some of the other less specific Direction spells.
The spell led us up the hill and then shot left, hard.
Terric slowed.
"Is there a road over there?" I asked.
"Looks like a maintenance road."
Track continued to pull that way. So we went that way. Up a steep hill and then twisting down it, trees and underbrush close enough they slapped the concrete dust off the car.
The road ended at a wide warehouse built into the hill, only the first couple feet of it visible before it was swallowed by darkness, stone, and foliage.
A set of three windows two stories up were dark, and in the car's headlights, I could make out a triple-wide door.
"Storage?" Dessa asked.
"Maybe equipment repair," Terric said.
The Track spell had drifted down and was now perched at the front of the car like a many-legged glowing hood ornament. It wasn't doing anything because it didn't need to track Eli anymore. It had found him.
"He's in there," I said.
"What are we going—" Dessa's words were cut short. The warehouse door was opening, yawning up in one big slab to reveal the dimly lit interior.
I squinted to see through the darkness. The headlights weren't doing much more than throwing shadows into shadows.
Then a man walked forward to the edge of the open doorway, strode into the headlights, and stared straight at us, shaking his head in disappointment.
Eli Collins.
# Chapter 28
"Get out of the car, Terric, Shame, and it's Dessa, isn't it?" Eli said distractedly. "There are guns aimed at you that could blow you apart before you blink."
Terric and I opened our doors and stepped out. I brought the baseball bat with me. Yes, I still had the gun too. Dessa got out a moment after us, probably loading the weapons on her body.
Eleanor drifted at a distance from me, which was just short of the warehouse. She was bound to me and couldn't move into the warehouse to look around unless I moved toward Eli.
"I gave you time," Eli said. "A full day! And I gave you clues. So many clues. But have you found her? No! You have failed me. You have failed us all. She'll die because of you, Shame."
Dessa stepped to one side of me, pulled her gun, and fired several rounds at Eli.
He didn't even flinch. The bullets hit the air about three feet in front of him, slowed, stopped, and fell to the ground.
"Just put it away, Ms. Leeds," he said. "This isn't a place for childish toys."
"You killed Victor," Terric said.
"What?" Eli looked genuinely surprised. "Of course I did. Did you think I would miss my chance to pay him back for the living hell he made of my life? Twenty years he toyed with me. And I had less than two minutes with him. Not enough time to kill him the way I wanted. Not nearly enough time to do to him what he deserved. It hardly seems fair."
"He was our teacher," Terric went on. "He was our family."
"It's nothing personal," Eli said. "It's. Just. Business." He smiled and spread his hands. "But our business isn't finished, gentlemen. Is it? This business between you and me. You still _owe_ me."
I lifted the bat over my shoulder. "You know what, Eli?" I strode toward him, the ground beneath my feet turning from grass to dust, the brush on either side of the road withering, cracking, falling, as I passed. "I'm here to pay."
I drank all the living things down. Filling up with life. Feeding my anger. My rage.
So I could use it to beat him to a bloody pulp.
Trees groaned and went ash white in the night. Ferns, vine maple, and brush blackened and died.
Eli's eyes narrowed. "I'm not afraid of you, Shamus."
"It's mutual." I was almost in front of the protective barrier now. "Tell me if you change your mind when I'm breaking you."
Eli didn't move.
Terric was at my side, Dessa behind us, her gun still out, scanning the shadows.
"You think you can hit me with a bat?" Eli said. "Did you not see the bullets that couldn't penetrate that wall?"
The barrier was powered by tech, not magic.
Too bad for him.
I swung for the bastard's head.
Damn straight he jumped back.
The barrier snapped to life and poured insane amounts of wattage across the open space.
Electricity was energy. Energy was life. I absorbed it. Hot enough it blistered the inside of my mouth. Electricity snapped and arced across my arms and down my back.
I yanked the bat away, turned my head to spit blood. I pulled off my rings and let them drop into the ground. Then I smiled at Eli.
No rings to block my reach to magic. No rings to block my power.
I swung again. Hard.
The barrier sparked, flared, and shattered.
Eli ran.
Emergency lights caught to life inside the structure.
It was a huge, three-story warehouse with arched metal ceiling and steel beams splayed out to the metal walls. Concrete floor, repair stalls to the left separated by more steel beams. The rest of the place was broken up by industrial shelves filled with boxes and things that might belong to a hospital or a machine shop.
The whole place looked like a military silo tipped on its side and nailed into the hill.
I put one foot inside and I knew why Eli had chosen this warehouse. The structure was built like a bunker. There was nothing alive in it, and thick metal and stone made it much more difficult for me to draw on the environment—life and magic—outside the structure.
It didn't make it impossible.
I reached out for Eli's life. Ran into some kind of Diversion he'd cast. I could untangle that spell given time.
Or I could beat him to death with my bat.
I preferred the second option.
Terric, Dessa, and I ran, our boots striking in matched rhythm across the warehouse to the hall at the end where Eli had disappeared. Eleanor flew in front of me and pointed up to the catwalks at the edges of the building.
Eli had said there were guns trained on us. He had not lied.
A barrage of bullets rained down.
Terric drew magic up from the floor in a blinding white arc. I called magic up in crackling black flames.
We didn't draw spells. We didn't have to.
We could break magic and make it do anything we wanted it to do.
Stop bullets? Yes.
Stop hearts? Yes.
There were eight shooters. Before we made it to the other side of the warehouse, there were eight dead shooters.
Stop Eli?
That was the question, wasn't it? Because he could make magic do what he wanted it to do too.
Even with the spells he'd cast and the magic he'd broken to protect himself, I could feel his heartbeat. Eli was running for his life.
It would be the last thing he ever did.
The hall was wide enough to drive a truck through. Pipes and wires snaked above our head, down the walls. The floor was metal grating. I heard the thrum of machines and rush of water somewhere far below.
That, I could reach. That, I could use.
"He's slowing," I said.
"How far ahead?" Dessa asked.
"Not far," Terric answered.
Eleanor flashed into the walls, flew out, flashed through them again. Searching for Eli.
The hall ended at a massive metal wall and hatch, bolted together like something made to handle deep-sea pressure.
Eleanor darted toward it, struck the wall, and pulled back, screaming in pain.
Holy shit.
I hadn't heard her voice in years.
"Don't!" I said as Terric jogged to the door. "Something's set here. A trap."
He didn't ask me how I knew.
"Do you see something?" Dessa asked.
I cleared my mind. Drew Sight. It was magic that surrounded the door. But no spell I'd ever seen before. It wasn't formed in a shape, a glyph, an order of some sort. It was just a pulsing blob of magic.
"What?" Dessa asked.
Terric drew a spell: Reveal. Different from Sight, it should show the true form of any physical object.
"What the hell is it?" he asked me.
"I don't know. It made Eleanor scream."
"Eleanor?" Dessa glanced around us as if expecting another person to be hiding in the shadows.
"What hurts her?" Terric asked.
"I have no idea." I looked over at Eleanor. She stood at a distance from the door, her arms crossed over her chest. She was frightened and angry.
"Do you know what it is?" I asked her.
She shook her head.
"Who?" Dessa asked, but Terric was already talking.
"Three heartbeats on the other side of that door."
"I noticed."
"Is Eli one of them?" Dessa asked.
"Yes," Terric and I said together.
"That's enough for me." She strode to the hatch, her hand out.
I stood in her way. "No."
"Move, Shame."
"No."
She reached for her gun. "I'm not going to let him get away."
I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulled her against me, and kissed her. She kissed me back, but her hand didn't leave her gun.
I pulled away, looked down into those hard blues. "We do this smart, and we do this together," I said, staring into her grief and pain and anger. "Because we are all making it out of this alive. Do you understand me?"
"Except Eli," she said. "Eli dies."
"That's right," I said. "Eli dies."
Terric began a spell, probably Cancel to clear the door so we could go through.
"He's the only one who dies today," I said.
Terric reached out with magic. I let go of Dessa and turned to him.
He wasn't casting Cancel. He was casting Explosion.
Shit.
I grabbed Dessa's arm and tugged her back down the hall, even as I was supporting the spell Terric was casting. We carved a quick Shield spell into the air to block the explosion and Terric stepped back to join us.
Then we broke magic and sent the spells flying.
The door blew apart with a huge roar, smoke and molten metal shooting toward us and into the room beyond.
We waited a heartbeat, two. Dropped the Shield and strode through the smoke and rubble into the room.
"We didn't think you would come this far," a man's voice said. "We hoped you might, but never thought you could." I didn't recognize the voice. It carried a soft burr, like the speaker was practiced at standing on a stage and reading Shakespeare. "But we underestimated both of you, didn't we, Mr. Conley and Mr. Flynn?"
The room was a quarter the size of the warehouse, but would still take a jog to get across. It was lit to obscure the walls, ceiling, and the lumps of machinery it contained. I thought it might have originally been used as a generator room.
Eli stood about a third of the way across the room. He had something metal in his hand that looked like a controller of some sort. Chained to the wall at the far end of the room was Davy. He was naked and unconscious, held down by the neck, wrists, ankles.
The glyphs carved into his chest, down his stomach, and over his arms pumped with a sluggish light—magic—pushing and pooling there. I didn't know what they were using Davy for. But I knew they were using him.
Above the room, on a walkway with metal railings that overlooked the space, stood the man who had greeted us.
His long gray coat covered most of his body, but his shoes shone, and a smudge of white at his neck told me he wore a white shirt and jacket. His features were obscured by the shadows and the fedora-like hat he wore.
"We don't care what you're doing here, Krogher," Dessa said as she lifted her gun and aimed it at him. "All we want is Eli."
"Why, Ms. Leeds," the man—Krogher—said. "How disappointing to see you here. Apparently I've wasted my efforts trying to track you down in Canada."
"You know him?" Terric asked.
"He was my boss."
"You were useful to me, Ms. Leeds. But then you ran," Krogher said. "This is the only mercy I will show you. If you put the gun down, stand aside, and let me take care of the business at hand, you will walk from here alive."
"Give me Eli," she said. "And we'll walk out of here and leave you alive."
Krogher chuckled. "It amuses me that you think you can bargain with me."
"Well, it was worth a shot," she said.
She took aim and fired six shots at Eli.
And all hell broke loose.
Eli blocked the bullets with another one of those electric barriers. Then the room filled with magic, hot as acid. Eli adjusted the controller in his hand. Davy gave a strangled yell.
No bullets on us this time. They'd tried that, and it hadn't worked.
This time it was fire.
Terric and I ran. For Eli. We could save Davy by killing Eli. We could get the hell out of here when Eli was dead.
The man above us was using magic to call up the very real fire that burned over the metal walls and stone floor. Fire made by magic.
"How?" I said, or maybe thought, as Terric and I carved Cancel spells, absorbed and diverted the fire, the heat, the magic, like we had choreographed this dance and knew every move.
"Eli," Terric replied, or maybe thought. "And them."
I ducked a fireball roaring toward my head, glanced up. There were five people standing at equal distance across the catwalk. These were not men in business suits. These were regular people, all of them in sweatpants and loose shirts—hospital issue.
All of them staring blankly, hands pushed palm out, thumbs crossed.
Holy fuck. The last guy I'd seen stand like that had blown up a building. As a matter of fact, he was up there too, assuming the position.
"What the hell are they?" Dessa yelled. "Breakers?"
"No," I yelled back. "They're using magic. Stay back."
Dessa apparently did not know what those words meant.
She pushed her way through the fire, running for Eli.
"God. Damn. It. Woman!"
I drew in the magic, a god-awful lot of it, twisted it, felt Terric's hand behind mine supporting the weight and chaos of it as we heaved it back at the people standing on the catwalk.
"Very good, Shamus," Eli somehow said so close to me I thought he was next to my ear. "But not good enough."
Davy moaned again, a gut-wrenching sound.
Time slowed.
This wasn't a trick of my mind or adrenaline that made it seem like time was slowed.
All the world around Terric and me _was_ slowed. Even Dessa.
But not Eli. And not Terric and me.
"You lift one finger, take one step, and all bets are off," Eli said hurriedly. I noted he was sweating. Whatever he had done with the controller, with Davy, took a toll on him too.
"Krogher has Brandy bound. Trapped. I cannot touch her without killing her. Save her and I will give Davy a quick death. Refuse and his death will be long and agonizing."
Brandy had to be close enough he could draw on her to break magic. But I didn't see her or feel her heartbeat.
Just because the world was slowed didn't mean it was at a standstill. Dessa was pulling another gun on Eli. The people upstairs had recovered from the backlash I'd thrown at them. At this speed, I could see that it was Krogher who controlled them, and he did so with some kind of device in his palm.
Probably something Eli had invented. The people were like individual generators of magic. Like matching bombs just waiting for Krogher to tap their power.
Strong as Soul Complements.
Maybe stronger.
Weapons.
"Fuck you, Eli," I said. "You got no card in this game."
I reached out for the spells he was supporting to protect himself and drank the magic out of them.
Davy screamed.
"Shame!" Terric said. "Don't. He's tied to Davy. You're killing him too."
I glanced over at Davy. Terric was right. Davy was weakly thrashing, the magic burning into him, blood streaming out of the glyphs and pouring down his body.
I broke my connection to Eli's magic. "As you see," Eli said, "I do have a card to play, Shame. The last card."
He pressed a button and ribbons of razor-sharp magic shot out from the thing in his hand, aiming straight for Dessa's heart.
# Chapter 29
Time was not slow anymore. It was suddenly, _brutally_ fast.
Dessa yelled as the magic slammed into her, throwing her across the floor.
Terric and I lifted our guns. Terric aimed at Eli's head. I aimed at that damn thing in his hands.
We unloaded the clips.
He had a choice of which part of himself to Shield. Chose his head. The controller fell to the floor.
And the blank-eyed monstrosities from above hit us with another spell.
Impact.
It blasted through the room like a sonic wave. Threw me off my feet. An entire ocean of magic pounded and roared through the room.
Crushing us.
I couldn't breathe. Tasted blood.
Tumbled, hit my back, shoulder, head, into something metal, felt my spine crack. Felt Terric's pain too: arm, shoulder, neck. Could not tell where he was, or hell, where I was.
Ran out of air.
Drowning. Drowning in magic.
"Dessa!" I yelled. I didn't hear her. Couldn't see her.
Then Terric was there, standing above me. A goddamn angel with alien eyes. He did something with Life magic that made my ears ring with an ungodly chorus of sound. My head spiked with pain.
And then I could breathe, I could think. I stood. A little woozy, but kept my feet. It felt like they'd aimed the entire ocean of magic at me.
"They did," he said in that flat, creepy tone that was not Terric, not human, and somehow louder than my own voice.
"Where's Dessa?" I yelled.
"They're taking Davy. Using him." He might have just pushed the brunt of that Impact off us, but there was no Terric in those eyes. Just raw magic.
_Get a grip, Flynn._
I stuck my hand on Terric's chest, drew off the Life magic burning through him until he stopped glowing and some sanity came back into his eyes.
Situation: the room was filled with a snarling maelstrom of magic that burned across the ceiling, walls, floor, picking up metal, debris, and glass and spinning it through the room like a caged tornado.
The people above us, including Krogher, were gone. That wasn't good.
The air cracked again and three holes in space materialized on the far side of the room. Gates.
Eli turned and limped toward one, holding his arm against his side and breathing hard. I hoped to hell one or a dozen of our bullets had hit him.
The second hole in space appeared right next to Davy. Men in black suits and black sunglasses stepped out of it and were quickly unchaining Davy and dragging him through that hole.
And the third . . . well, in the third stood a woman.
Terric turned to stare at her, his eyes gone alien again.
She wore a plain cotton nightgown. Looked like the room behind her was a hospital. She even held an IV bag in her hand. Her hair was dark and cut boy-short. She was about Eli's age.
I'd seen her picture. I knew who she was. Brandy Scott. Eli's Soul Complement. She looked lost. Confused.
"Brandy!" Eli yelled. "Save her, Shame! You must save her!"
He took what looked like an impossibly painful step toward her, one hand stretched out, but there were already men in black coming for him.
I had been standing there, getting a grip on the situation for two seconds, max.
Something cold punched my face. Eleanor floated in front of me, panicked. She pointed to my right. _Dessa,_ she mouthed.
I turned away from Terric, who was already marching toward those gates, and looked for Dessa.
Dessa lay on the floor, holding her hand to the gaping hole in her chest. A hole put there by magic. A hole that was steadily growing larger. Eating away at her.
There are moments when you know your life is forever changed. You hold your breath and for that heartbeat wish it wasn't true. You make promises. You offer sacrifices. You lie to yourself.
But you know your world will never be the same again. You know you are lost and will never find your way back home. You know you will never be who you were just a heartbeat ago. This was my moment.
The moment my world broke.
The entire damn room was blowing up around us. Eli was getting away.
I didn't care.
I crossed to Dessa, knelt. Pulled her into my arms.
There was blood. Too damn much blood. Covering her. Covering me.
Her eyes searched mine. "Shame," she said. "Kill him for me."
"Shush, now," I said. "You know I'll do more than that. I will make his remaining breaths eternities of agony."
Her eyes were sad, filled with thick shadows of fear. She managed a smile.
I yelled for Terric. He could heal her. Like he'd healed me. He could make the hole in her go away.
"Look at that," she whispered as if she hadn't heard me screaming. "Your boyish charms are showing."
"Did they work?" I asked, smoothing her blood-soaked hair away from her face.
_Don't die, baby. Hold on. Just hold on for me._
Where the hell was Terric?
"Yes," she said. "But then, they always have."
I shouldn't be touching her. The Death magic I held was only going to make her wounds worse. I shifted slightly, thinking I could ease her down to the floor.
She screamed in pain.
"God _damn_ it, Terric!" I yelled again, holding still, holding her in my arms.
Her breathing had gone shallow and ragged.
"Dessa," I said. "It's going to be all right." The hole in her chest was growing, leaving nothing behind. No flesh. No blood. No Dessa. She was dissolving in my arms, like sand falling through my fingers.
"Just," she said. "Kiss me, Shame."
I lowered my head and pressed my lips gently to hers. Kissed her even though my body was shaking. Kissed her even though tears mixed with our blood. Kissed her for the last time.
I could feel her heart straining. I knew how little life she had left.
"I think I could have loved . . . " she mumbled against my mouth.
And then she exhaled. Her heart stilled.
I pulled back.
A flash of light devoured her body, the sudden, intense heat burning my hands, arms, face, chest, and legs. I yelled.
But Dessa was gone. No bones, no blood. Not even dust left behind. My arms were empty. Blistered.
I was alone.
"I told you!" Eli yelled. "I told you I'd kill everyone you love!"
I heard Terric snarl and call on magic.
Even though the storm of magic in the room tore at me, there was a stronger storm inside me.
I could keep her. I could keep her forever.
Her soul stood in front of me, a beautiful, ghostly image. She looked surprised and thoughtful but not sad.
"Please, Dessa," I whispered. "Don't go. Stay with me, love. Forever."
Eleanor stood a short distance behind her. She was shaking her head and saying no. She didn't approve of what I was about to do. I knew she wouldn't. But I couldn't let go of Dessa. I'd only just found her.
With mind and magic, I reached out for Dessa's soul.
This I could do. Bind her to me forever. I'd done it once before.
Terric yelled again.
His pain shot through me like a hammer shattering glass. I tipped my head back and yelled at the agony that was not my own.
Instinct pushed me to my feet.
Fury made me turn.
Terric stumbled backward, clutching his gut. Blood flowed there. Three bullets. Not made of metal, made of Void stones. I could feel each one digging toward his spine, tearing him apart. Tearing apart his magic and his life.
Done. I was done with this. Done losing the people I loved.
Fuck Eli.
Fuck them all.
I threw my hands out to each side. And called on Death magic.
It leaped to my command, rushing into me, consuming me. Until I was no longer just Shame. No. Until I was no longer Shame at all.
I was darkness. Power. Death incarnate. And I was going to tear apart the world.
The room rumbled, metal girders screaming as I drank life out of the walls, out of the floor, out of the cliffside, stones, forest, and soil around us.
The hospital was so near. So full of life teetering on the edge of death. I could have that. Drink down those lives.
So I did. One, twenty, forty delicious sweet deaths burst through me with carnal pleasure. I laughed. It wasn't all the people in the building—it was only a start.
Eli Collins was at the gate. The men in black were dragging him through.
That was all I could see. He was all I wanted.
So easy to destroy him. But I wanted time. An eternity to make him suffer.
I reached out for the men around him. Their hearts, their brains.
Magic whipped out, caught them, heart and brain. And squeezed.
The men screamed. I drank their lives, then consumed their bodies, flesh, muscle, and bone until there was nothing but dust left. Then I licked that up too.
But I hadn't touched Eli, who still carried his protective spell and the torture controller. Eli, the Breaker.
I strode toward him. Lashed at him with so much magic the hill shook.
Before the magic hit, before I could break that protective spell, the gate he'd been standing in slammed shut. The hole in space was gone.
Taking Eli with it. Before I could hook him, before I could crush him, before I could kill him.
Leaving nothing but the wall of the warehouse where he had just stood.
I tore at the building, tore at the building with fury. Hatred. Rage.
"Shame," Terric called to me from a far, far distance.
I wanted more to kill. I was not nearly done destroying. I wanted Eli.
Then Terric staggered to stand in front of me. Blood on his face, bullets in his chest, where his hand was clamped, the glow of yellow-white healing unable to stop the bleeding. His other hand was extended to one side, holding a spell there.
A bruise covered his temple to neck, but his blue eyes were so very, very sane.
"It's over," he said quietly, his words resonating in my blood, in my bones, in the core of me where something more than death used to dwell. "Come back to me."
He put his hand against my heart. Where my heart should be.
Unafraid. Touching me should be his death.
But he was Terric.
He was my brother.
I would be his death someday.
Today was not that day.
"Let it go," he said, still there, resonating deep inside me, coaxing out the shredded remains of me that was not death. "We will kill him. I swear. But I need you clear, Shamus. Come back to me. Please." He swallowed, and I could taste his sorrow, his fear. "God, I can't lose you."
It wasn't magic that made me let go of the death I clung to.
It was his words.
It was Terric.
I tipped my head down, fingers splayed to the floor. But I could not force myself to let go of magic.
Terric wrapped his hand around my wrist. Life magic burned strong in that grip.
I released the Death magic. It blasted into the metal floor, melting it, pouring out of me like a rush of blood and fire from my veins.
It took time. A lot of time before I noticed the room had no magic raging through it.
It took even more time before I noticed Davy was gone. The gate he had been dragged through was closed.
We had failed to kill Eli.
We had failed to save Davy.
And Dessa. . . .
I looked over at where she had been, hoping. That she was all right. That Terric had reached her soon enough to heal her. That her spirit had lingered behind for me.
But she was gone. Not even the ghost of her remained.
I was unable to move. Unable to think. The world took on soft edges and retreated so far away I couldn't feel the floor beneath my feet, couldn't feel my body, couldn't feel my breath.
"Are you all right?" Terric asked.
"Yes," I said, the words dust in my mouth. "I am fine."
"I need you to help me get Brandy to safety. Shame, are you listening to me?"
He reached out this time and put his hand on my arm. It took me a minute, but I finally realized he was steadying himself with that grip. Leaning on me.
Because he was very, very injured.
The world came slamming back into me.
Edges, pain, heat, odors, heartbeats crashed down.
"There you are," Terric said, his voice no longer soft and close, but rough and worn as if he'd been screaming this whole time. "We need to get out of here. I can't. I can't do this without you."
His left hand pressed tightly against his stomach. Holding back the bleeding there. He was also supporting a second spell. I had seen him cast it, but I didn't know what it was.
"You're shot. Jesus, Terric, you've been shot."
He nodded. "I can keep my insides stable with magic. Think I have about half an hour left before I pass out, and that might be a problem. But hey—the hospital's right up the hill. If it's still standing."
He took a breath, a little too much rattle in it. Licked his lips. "Listen to me, Shame. Don't drift off. We need to get back to the car. All of us. I need your help with her, because I can't keep this up forever."
He turned his head. I looked that way.
The "her" was Brandy Scott, surrounded by an Illusion spell. She stood just a few feet away from us, rocking softly back and forth. She still had her IV bag but didn't seem to notice it in her hand.
"What. The. Hell?" Too much had happened. I couldn't put all the events in the right order in my head. "Jesus Christ, Terric. Did you save Brandy? Did you fucking do what Eli told you to do? You could have saved Davy. You could have killed Eli."
"I . . . wasn't in my right mind." The hurt from admitting that crossed his eyes. "All that mattered was calculating the correct outcome. Taking her was the correct outcome. I wanted to save Davy, but the magic . . . it took everything to hold it, manage it through the pain."
I knew what he was saying. The monster in him had taken over. Life magic had chosen who to save, no matter what he wanted. Heartless. Cruel. Inhuman. He had saved Brandy and not Davy. Not our friend.
"How?" I asked.
"I cast an Illusion to hide her. To replicate her where they expected her to be. They'll know she's missing in the next half hour too, if I pass out. Or when the spell fades. She's our bargaining chip, Shame. She's how we're going to find Eli. She's how we're going to kill him."
I stood there. Couldn't get my brain clear enough to know whether I should yell at him or hug him. That was a staggering amount of magical finesse and strength under any circumstance. But with Void stone bullets digging through his gut, and the rest of the magical bombardment, it had taken incomprehensible skill. I didn't know anyone in the world other than Terric who could have pulled it off.
"I can't touch her," I said flatly. "I'll kill her between one heartbeat and the next."
"All right," he said. "I'll lead her, but if I pass out . . ."
"No guarantees I'll catch her, and not hurt her. I . . . can't."
I waited as Terric said calm things to Brandy. He put his hand softly on her arm and took a step.
She followed along without question.
# Chapter 30
The room looked like a goddamn war zone. I crossed it. Out the blown hatch, and down the hall. I knew the way, but Eleanor was in front of me, making it very clear which way I should go, which was probably for the best.
The warehouse was how we had left it. Except for the eight dead gunmen. They were gone. Krogher, or whoever was behind this operation, had done the work to erase their tracks.
The car was also where we left it.
There didn't appear to be any traps set on it. Which meant either they didn't care that we had escaped or they didn't think that we would.
Terric got Brandy into the backseat and eased in next to her. I stood there for a little too long, trying to decide if I could do this. If I could face living.
"Shame. Please," Terric said.
I got into the driver's seat, glanced in the rearview mirror. Terric's eyes were closed. He was pale, bloody, burned, and sickly green around the edges. His head rested on the back of the seat, but he was in a lot of pain.
"You still with me, Ter?" I asked.
"Always," he said. "Doctor might be nice, though."
I heard sirens. Fire trucks, I thought. Coming our way.
So I drove up to the main complex that I had not destroyed. Parked in the garage. Got out of the car. I didn't know how I was going to take him in there. Should I bring Brandy? She looked like she'd just escaped from the place. But I couldn't leave her out here alone either.
I opened Terric's door. "Do you still have your phone?"
"Inside coat pocket."
His voice was less than a whisper and he didn't even open his eyes. I reached in his pocket and pulled out the phone.
It still had a charge. I thumbed it on, called Dash.
"Spade," he said.
"It's Shame. I need someone here. Discreetly. And now."
"Where are you?"
"Main parking garage at OHSU. Now," I said again. "Terric's hurt."
I hung up.
"Hey," Terric said quietly.
I crouched down so I was on eye level with him. "What?"
"We don't have to go in."
"You have bullets in your gut. Void stone bullets. We go in."
"Void . . . ? No wonder if hurts like a fucker. Don't think I'm gonna . . ." He moved his lips, but no words came out. "...dizzy."
No. He was not going to pass out.
I reached for him. Put my hand over his hand, my fingers between his fingers, his blood welling slick and hot as he relaxed his hand, letting me keep the pressure on the wound.
"Damn, I'm tired," he sighed.
I didn't know what would happen if he passed out. I didn't know if something was already permanently damaged in him. And I couldn't heal him, couldn't sustain him like he could sustain himself.
I was death. The very thing we were trying to avoid here.
But we were tied, he and I. Maybe by more than magic.
"You're going to be fine," I said, giving him my words as he had given me his—a lifeline. "I called Dash. He sounded worried. Probably about you. You know he has a massive crush on you, right?"
Terric opened his eyes. Bloodshot, glassy. Not tracking all that well. He'd probably be shocked if he had the energy for it. "The hell."
"It's true," I said, glad something had made him stir. "You move between boyfriends so fast he hasn't even had a chance to ask you out."
"I." He blinked. "Huh."
And that was all he had time to say. Because a car pulled into a parking spot near us.
I twisted on the toe of my boot, keeping the pressure on his gut, and looked over my shoulder to see who Dash had sent.
Zayvion and Allie got out of the car, both looking unscathed, ready to kick ass, and worried as hell.
They shouldn't be here. Shouldn't be outside the protections we'd left on their house.
But I had never in my whole damn life been so glad to see them.
"Shame," Zay said, taking in the scene with one glance. "You need to go in with Terric. I'll stay out here with her."
"Brandy," I said. "Scott."
Zay nodded. "I know."
Of course he knew. He had been a Closer, Victor's star pupil. He had probably been there when Victor Closed Eli.
I wondered if he knew Victor was dead. Gone.
"Is Terric conscious?" Allie asked.
"He is," Terric whispered.
So I helped Terric out of the car, got his arm over my shoulder. Allie made a move to put her arm around him too to help him walk.
"You shouldn't," I warned. "I'm not safe."
"You're a mess," she agreed. "But I'll be fine."
I didn't have it in me to argue with her, so I just did my best to keep from touching her. I focused on getting Terric into the building and down the hall. We found an empty wheelchair and navigated him into that, and then I wheeled him to admittance, Eleanor somewhere at the edge of my vision.
I was glad Allie came along. When they asked me what had happened to us, I came up blank. What should I say? We'd been in the middle of a magical firefight and had had our asses handed to us?
Allie decided on an easier story: shooting in the park, didn't see the guy. Didn't see the car he drove off in. I didn't know how she was going to explain our other burns and contusions since I was slowly realizing a good share of the blood and pain was also mine. But she had that covered too. Car accident on the way over here.
Apparently I'd called her in shock after I'd driven the car into a ditch trying to get Terric to the hospital and she'd shown up to help me get Terric and me treated.
They bought the story, probably because she put a little of her family's natural Influence behind it to make it stick.
Terric was immediately taken away for surgery. I snarled about it. I think I told them I would be in the room with him while they cut him open whether they liked it or not. And if they harmed him I'd do unspeakable things.
Allie took care of that too.
In the form of flagging down a burly nurse who looked like he could break me with one hand.
Turned out, he was very good at giving fast and painless shots.
Turned out, those shots were even better at taking the world away.
• • •
I woke up to an annoying alarm clock beeping. Which was weird since I never used an alarm clock. Opened my eyes.
This was so not my room.
"You're in the hospital," Zayvion said from beside me.
I rolled my head, which hurt, and squinted at him. "Why am I in bed? Terric was the one who was hurt."
"You were both hurt," he said, switching off the screen he'd been working on and leaning all that muscle of his forward in the chair. "You have six fractures, soft tissue damage, and some organ bruising. He was shot."
"Where is he?"
He twisted a bit, pointed. There was another bed in the room. Terric lay in it, hooked up to tubes and wires. He was breathing evenly and on his own, though he had an oxygen tube taped below his nose. I could tell he was sleeping, and currently not in pain.
"What did the doctors say?"
"It was a . . . difficult surgery. Void stones." He shook his head. "Dr. Fisher was called in. He made it through fine. Better than the doctors expected. He's recovering faster than they expected too. You've been here for twenty-four hours. And we're calling that barren mess you left behind down the hill a bit a gas explosion. Triggered a landslide. Half the hospital's been evacuated."
But I wasn't thinking about the damage I'd done to the land. "Zay, Brandy. Terric had an Illusion on her."
"We know. We took care of everything." He put his wide hand on my arm and squeezed it, his expression sympathetic. "Dash filled us in on a few things, but we don't know what happened up there."
So I told him. It took me some time to get it all out. I couldn't seem to say Dessa's name without being swallowed by pain.
The nurse came in before I'd finished—same guy who looked like he should have gone into pro wrestling instead of health care. Turned out, his name was Carlos. He gave us both a cheerful greeting and went about checking the machines, meds, and everything else, while singing softly. Had a hell of a voice.
When he was gone, I went over the last of the events.
Zay rubbed at the back of his neck. "Fuck," he said.
"Yeah."
That was pretty much how I'd sum up the situation. Some government jackwad named Krogher had control of both Eli and Davy and a crew of magic-wielding people modified by Eli so that they were magic-holding drones that had kicked our Breaker asses.
"We know what Eli wanted," Zay said quietly, "and we know he lured you into a trap. But our information said they wanted to use Breakers, to capture them, not to kill them." He paused a second, staring at the wall like there was a window there.
"They were testing you. First the electrical barrier, then guns, fire, magic. They wanted to see what Breakers could do. They wanted to see what the modified magic users could do against you."
Zayvion is a man who can hold his own in a fight, and he's got that don't-fuck-with-me presence that makes people avoid him in dark alleys. In light alleys too, come to think of it. But he is also a very smart man.
"We played into their hands," I said. "Fuck. Me."
"I'll talk to Clyde," he said, "call a meeting to get everyone up to speed. We'll turn this to our advantage. We learned a hell of a lot about their strengths and weaknesses too. Plus, we made other . . . gains."
He meant Brandy. Eli's Soul Complement.
Zay stood, stretched like a big cat that had been cooped up in a cage too long. "I'll be back later. You should get some sleep, okay?"
"Zay?" I said.
"Mmm?"
"He could have died. He almost died."
He knew I was talking about Terric. Zay walked up to the side of my bed, paused, looked over at Terric, then back at me.
"He could have died," Zay said. "But you wouldn't let him, Shame. You're Death magic. You have a lot of say over the matters of his soul."
"Dessa died." It came out hard, flat, angry.
"Terric's your soul, Shame. Soul." Zay was quiet a minute. "You'll never lose him like that."
I stared up at him, wondering if that was true. And in his eyes was absolute confidence in me. "I think you might overestimate my abilities, Z."
He gave me half a grin. "I never have. But you, despite your big mouth, have always underestimated yourself."
"Morning," Dash said quietly from the doorway. "How are they today?"
"Awake," Zay said. "At least Shame is."
"Is he talking?" Dash asked with a lot of worry in his tone.
"Yes," Zay said, giving me a look. "Mostly bullshit."
"So, normal, is what you're saying," Dash said.
"Fuck you both," I said as Zay left and Dash settled in to take a stint of watching over us.
It was nice to be loved.
# Chapter 31
I walked down the street with two coffees in my hand. Sunglasses, beanie, fingerless gloves, and heavy coat. November had arrived with ice in the wind. Not that I felt it.
I hadn't slept much in over a week since we'd fought Eli and Krogher's blank-eyed, magic-wielding drones. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Dessa. Every silence was filled with her voice.
She wasn't haunting me. Not like Eleanor. But her absence was a shadow across my soul.
I'd fallen for her too hard to stand up again easily or quickly. She'd left me bruised on the inside. Touched me in places I didn't even know I had. Places where only pain remained.
I walked up the stairs to Terric's place. Rang the bell with my elbow. Waited.
Heard his footsteps. A little stronger than when I'd visited yesterday. And while the doctors were stunned with the rate of his recovery, I knew without magic to support him, he might not have made it through the surgery at all.
The door opened.
"Morning, Shame," he said, stepping aside to let me in.
He was dressed, showered, his hair left to fall with the male-model perfection that he achieved with annoying ease. But the dark circles under his eyes against the sallow pale of his skin gave away his injuries.
I handed him his coffee as I walked in past him with this new morning ritual I'd fallen into. "Morning. Brought you coffee."
I headed to the living room. Stopped on the threshold to it. There was a fist-sized hole in the wall by the fireplace.
"There's a fist-sized hole in the wall by the fireplace," I said.
He walked up behind me, sighed. "Jeremy stopped by last night." He moved by me, over to the couch where he preferred to sit.
I worked on reminding myself why I hadn't killed Jeremy yet.
"You still like him?" I asked, covering some of the anger with a gulp of coffee.
He pushed a couple books to one side so he could sit, and placed his coffee next to the lamp and the bottle of antibiotics and painkillers. Then he looked up at me. Gave me that stare that all of my friends seemed to use around me now. Like he was seeing a new person. Someone he wasn't quite comfortable with.
"He's funny," Terric said carefully. "We have the same taste in movies. He's good in bed."
I just raised one eyebrow. "Don't need the details."
"No," he said. "I don't like him like that anymore. He came by last night to tell me he was in trouble again. That he had promised people I would do things for them. Life magic. I told him I wasn't a currency he could bargain with. Things got heated."
"Did he hurt you?" I asked calmly. "Did he touch you?"
Terric paused, gave me that cautious look again. "Sit down, Shame. You worry too much."
I said nothing. Walked to the chair across from him, sat. "Did he?" I asked again.
"No. He yelled for a while, but then, so did I. He punched a hole in my wall." He shrugged, took a drink of his coffee.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"You never liked him."
"No, I didn't. Still." I took another drink of coffee. "Did you break it off with him?"
"No."
"Do you want me to do it for you?"
He paused. "No. I can do it. Just . . ."
When he didn't pick up that thought, I tried again. "Let me be there when you do."
"Shame . . ."
"That's all I'm asking."
He exhaled. Looked as tired as I felt. "I think it's a bad idea. But okay." Then: "Did you drive over?"
I nodded.
"Do you want to take your car or mine?" he asked.
"We're going to see him now?"
Eleanor stopped studying a photo on his wall, which was when I noticed all the art was removed and a few of Terric's pictures were back in their place. She drifted closer to me.
He frowned. "No. Allie and Zay invited us over. In an hour. I told you yesterday. And the day before that when I got the invitation."
I didn't remember him talking about it. "I can drop you off, but I'm not—"
"You're going." He pushed up off the couch, something he did with a fair amount of grace to cover the fact that it still hurt like a mother to move so quickly.
I knew, because I could feel his pain.
We were closer now, since the fight. I didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.
"We need to stop off at the store," he said as he picked up his coat from the back of the chair and pulled into it very carefully. "I promised I'd bring flowers."
It didn't make much sense to me why we were going, nor why we'd need flowers. But then, a lot of things just seemed . . . beyond me this last week or so. I could not muster the energy to give a single damn about any of it.
He handed me his keys, so I guessed I was driving his car.
Did so, stopping at a florist that Terric insisted had the best bouquets this time of year. I walked with him, my pace shortened for his.
By the time we'd bought a bunch of flowers of which I only recognized two—lilies and the pink ones—and had made it back to the car, the sky was filled with black clouds and it was raining hard enough to back up the gutters.
Terric was breathing heavily from the hurried pace he'd managed on the way back to the car.
"I'm going to be so glad when I can move again," he said. "Really move."
I think he talked about flowers or maybe it was salsa dancing while I drove to Allie and Zay's house. I listened, heard each word, but they all slipped away as quickly as they came, leaving no impression of their passage behind.
Then we were there. And we weren't the only ones. Cars lined the alley behind their house.
"What is this?" I said right in the middle of his discussion on the nasturtium, which could have been a flower or a dance move for all I knew.
"What is what?" he asked.
"Why are we here? What are we doing here?"
He paused, watched me. I was staring at the cars, trying to remember what he'd said we were going to do.
"It's just some of us getting together in honor of Victor," he said calmly. "It's not a meeting. It's not business. Just a low-key gathering of friends."
Frankly, I think it would have been easier if it were business.
"You don't remember me telling you about it, do you?"
"No."
"Let's go in." He opened the door. I got out too, and we walked through the pouring rain to the kitchen-side door.
Terric didn't knock, he just walked right into the house. "And here I thought we'd be early," he said, holding out the flowers for Allie.
"You are just in time. Both of you," she said, giving Terric a quick kiss on the cheek. "Shame, if you stand on my porch dripping any longer, I will pin you to my clothesline in the basement."
I didn't want to do this. Enter this houseful of caring faces, warmth, love. I wasn't what they thought I was. Not anymore.
But they were waiting for me. Waiting for me to come home to the living.
I dug down deep, down beneath the darkness, looking for the shreds of me that were still Shame. Held that up like a familiar mask.
"You have a laundry line?" I asked. "How eighteen hundreds of you, Beckstrom. What's next? Indoor plumbing?"
And for the first time, I realized the extent of my disconnect over the last week. Because everyone in the kitchen let out the breath they'd been holding, and chuckled.
It was not that funny of a joke.
But it was a start.
# Chapter 32
The gathering was just what Terric said it would be. A bunch of us sitting around, talking, eating, drinking. Nola had outdone herself with the cooking and forbade us all to give her any more compliments about it since she was blushing so hard.
Detective Stotts was there too, being very nondetective. I appreciated that he didn't ask a lot of questions when certain details came up about Victor's death.
Like the fact that Terric and I had gone off looking for his killer on our own. Though from the look on his face, he'd have us down to the station soon to talk.
Allie and Zay sat in an oversized chair, curled up with each other, Stone sitting next to them like their own private guard gargoyle.
Allie had made sure there was a comfortable place on the couch for Terric. Dash sat at the other end, trying not to stare at Terric too much, which I thought was amusing.
The rest of the group included Clyde, a few of the Hounds, but not Sunny, who had been told the bad news of Davy being held captive. She was busy coordinating every Hound in a three-state area looking for him. The police were also looking for him and so were several members of the Authority.
As soon as I got my head clear, I'd be looking for him too.
Eventually Kevin Cooper, who was a longtime member of the Authority and a close friend of Victor's, showed up along with his wife and Allie's ex-stepmother, Violet Beckstrom-Cooper, who had been a more recent friend of Victor's.
They'd also brought baby Daniel, who was a little over three now. He ran through the room, headed straight for Stone, who tipped his ears up and caught Daniel in his arms. Then that big pile of rock wrapped his wings gently around him and snuffled at his neck, making rumble-gurgle noises.
Daniel squealed in delight.
Cody Miller was there too. It wasn't too long before he was standing in front of me. Looking down at me with ice blue eyes that looked too old and too mad.
"Cody," I said, holding my Shame mask firmly in place and wishing he would go stare at someone else.
"This will be interesting, I think," he said. "And I'm going to help you with it, Shame. When you're ready." He walked away.
I didn't know what the hell he was talking about. And didn't ask.
But it was my mum showing up that really made me want to crawl out of my skin.
Terric must have felt it, because he speared me with a look to keep me seated.
Mum looked great, really. Had pulled her red hair up in a loose knot that made her green eyes wider. She was fit, strong, wearing slacks and a sweater, and when she smiled, the lines around her eyes were more from happiness than pain.
She and Hayden had been staying at his place in Alaska for the last couple years, though they came down three or four times a year to check in on the inn, friends, and, I supposed, me.
"Maeve," Allie said. "It's so great you made it. When did you get in?"
"Last night," she said. "Well, early this morning. We got a little sleep before we headed over. I brought a couple pies. They're in the kitchen."
Allie stood, gave her a hug. "Wonderful."
Zay was standing too, shaking Hayden's only hand. Zay was a big man. But Hayden was a damn giant. Dark hair, trimmed beard, he'd put on a few pounds living with my mum's good cooking. He grinned at Zay, genuinely looking happy to be back.
"Shamus," my mum said.
"Hello, Mum," I said. "Have a seat?"
"Why don't you help me with the pie?"
"I can—" Nola started.
"No," Maeve said. "It will give us a chance to catch up."
I glanced over at Terric. Wanting him to make an excuse so I didn't have to talk to my mum. He just raised his eyebrows and gave me a mind-your-mother look.
Bastard.
"Shamus," Mum called from halfway across the room. "Come with me. Now."
"Better just do it, son," Hayden said in his rolling baritone. "She is not a woman who likes to be kept waiting."
He heaved his bulk down into a chair gratefully and got busy catching up with Kevin and Zayvion.
No one was even looking at me.
I wiped my fingers over the top of my lip, clearing the sweat there. I did not want to talk to my mother about what had happened. Didn't want her to see what I had become.
I didn't remember walking into the kitchen. One minute I was sitting; then I was in the doorway, unable to make my feet go any farther.
"Do you know where she keeps the serving knife?" She wasn't looking at me.
I tried and couldn't find a way to say anything.
"Shamus? Son?" She looked over at me.
Something changed in her as she studied me. She put down the plates and crossed the room. Then tugged me in, away from the door, away from where anyone would see me.
And wrapped her arms around me.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Her familiar perfume and warmth surrounded me, comfort I had known all my life. It had been years and more since she'd held me like a frightened, broken child.
But I didn't pull away.
"Ah, my love," she said gently. "Someday your heart will mend. Someday the pain will become a part of your memories instead of your every living moment."
I realized she wasn't talking about me grieving Victor's death, though I was certainly doing that too. She was talking about Dessa.
"Wh-who told you?" I asked around the pain in my chest.
"About Dessa? Zayvion."
I pulled back from her embrace, wiped at my face to keep the tears from falling. "He's such a mother hen."
She tipped her head and smiled gently. "He told me you killed, Shamus. With magic."
"You know what I am," I said softly. "What I've become." I pulled my shoulders back, wishing I could put more space between us, but not wanting to leave her comfort.
"Yes," she said, touching my cheek with her fingers. "You are my son. A man I am proud of."
"No. Not . . . now. I am death."
There it was, the truth. She studied me, then pushed my bangs out of my eyes. "Well, then, death needs a haircut."
"Mum!" It was such a motherly thing to say.
"It is the truth," she said. "And much truer than the nonsense you're telling me. You carry Death magic, Shamus. But you are still a man in control of it. And you have handled that heavy responsibility better than ninety-nine percent of the people in this world."
"By killing people?"
"Death comes to us all, my child."
I didn't know what to say to that. It seemed like she was grossly oversimplifying the situation. But then, Mum had seen my dad killed, her friends possessed, destroyed. She'd raised a Death magic user, and had already seen what hellish thing I could become, back when I'd ripped Jingo Jingo to bloody shreds.
She was, I realized, very comfortable with the workings, and reality, of death. No wonder she was nonchalant about it.
"True," I said.
"Good." She drew her fingers along my cheek one last time and looked at me as if sizing me up for a new suit. "Now help me with the pie."
I did that, and mostly managed to handle myself in the rest of the day's conversations.
The other Soul Complements had cleared out of town. So had the Overseer, though Clyde had kept him informed on everything that was happening.
We knew who we were up against: Krogher. We didn't know his position in the government yet, nor what his plan, his final plan was for the modified magic users he had controlled.
They had taken Davy, one of our own. And we all agreed that would not stand.
And Eli . . .
Well, no one talked to me about Eli. They didn't have to. I had my own plans for him.
Because I had a promise to keep.
In the meantime, I tried to smile at the appropriate moments, nodded like I was listening, and dug deep to be the Shame they all needed me to be, not the monster they refused to believe I had become.
When Terric said he was tired, I got up, said my good-byes to my mum and Hayden, then Allie and Zay.
Allie suddenly went domestic on us—this baby business made her weird—and insisted she had to wrap up leftovers for us to take. I left her and Terric to their girl talk in the kitchen.
I needed silence. Rain. Darkness. I needed away from my mother, and all of my friends.
Zay walked with me out to the car.
The rain had let up, but everything was wet, cold. I lit a cigarette and leaned against the hood of Terric's car.
"How you holding up?" I asked him.
Yes, he looked surprised.
"Victor was a father to you, Zay. I know that," I said softly.
Zay nodded. There was a stiffness to his shoulders, like there was a pain he hadn't quite figured out how to breathe around.
Welcome to the club.
"I'm dealing," he said. He came over and leaned on the hood next to me.
I offered him a cigarette.
He took it. Now it was my turn to look surprised.
"Everything really okay with Allie?" I asked as I flicked my thumb over my lighter for him.
He sucked heat into the cigarette, held the smoke for a moment, exhaled with a nod. "We think so. Dr. Fisher is keeping a very close eye on her. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, not even after we broke magic."
"Good," I said, meaning it. "That's good."
We smoked for a while staring up at the house, the trees beyond it, listening to the river rushing by behind us.
"Did you love her?" he finally asked.
"I barely knew her." It had become my stock answer. A parry Terric and Dash and most other people who had asked me that very same question would not engage with.
Zay wasn't most people.
"So you loved her."
"I thought I did."
"Did she love you back?"
"I don't know. Maybe." Then, since he waited me out, "Yes."
"You're going to hunt him down, aren't you, Shame?"
I inhaled smoke, exhaled. We both knew who he was talking about: Eli.
"Yes," I said. "You won't want to get in my way, Zay."
He shook his head. "Wouldn't dream of it. But if I can be there to hold him down while you pull his lungs out of his chest, I will be."
Terric said no one knew me better than him. I thought he might be wrong about that. Zay understood. Understood pain. Understood love. Understood vengeance. Understood me.
"Call me if you need me," he went on. "Any day, anytime. And I'll be at your side." The door opened and Zay finished his cig, tossing it to the ground.
"Thanks," I said. "But you need to take care of Allie. Of both of them. Of your family."
"I take care of all my family, Shame," he said, pushing off the car and walking away with that alpha swagger of his. "My family includes you."
Terric was walking down the steps. Allie waited for Zay just inside the doorway, the light of their home framing her.
"Zay," Terric said.
"Don't let him forget we hate the bastard too," Zay said.
Terric gave me a quizzical look as Zay passed him.
I just shrugged. "Fatherhood makes him sentimental."
I heard Zayvion chuckle as he walked up the steps.
# Chapter 33
I took Terric to the office because he wanted to talk to Clyde. For a guy who had been fired, he sure spent a lot of his time at his not-job. Dash promised to take him home.
We'd gotten a hit on that syringe Victor had been holding. Turns out there was only one pharmaceutical company that could manufacture the mix of chemicals it contained. And we had hopes that since Eli was using it, we could track the purchase to Eli, or the people keeping him.
More importantly, that we could track it back to where Davy was being held.
I hit a bar at noon, left before one. Ordered a beer, but only took a couple drinks off it. Eleanor sat across the table from me, still and patient, but I was restless. So I walked the streets for a while, wandering. Aimless. Then a while turned into hours, and I found myself at Victor's place.
I stood there, hands in my pockets, staring at his front door. Imagined him opening it and telling me to come in. Walked up, pulled the key I'd had made years ago without him knowing about it, unlocked the door, and stepped in.
The late-afternoon light fell through windows. His home looked like his home, felt like his home. I walked through every room except the bedroom. Couldn't bring myself to going back in there.
Thought about stealing one of his books, or knickknacks, or something to keep as my own before whoever was in charge of his estate vultured down on the place.
Found myself at his desk in the corner of the living room. Ran my fingers over the closed rolltop. Opened it. There were two files neatly stacked there, a fountain pen—so very Victor—and his computer.
I was surprised the police hadn't confiscated all this. Figured Clyde had put the kibosh on that. After all, we didn't need an investigation. We knew who killed Victor and why. The carvings on his body had been verified as Eli's signature by several Hounds.
I flipped open the folder. Lost my breath at the picture. Blue eyes that knew you were watching her, looking at her. Red hair, pale skin. And that smile.
Dessa.
I waited until the knife stopped twisting in my heart. Blinked until the text on the page made English again.
He'd had a file on Dessa? Why hadn't he given it to me? I took it, looked at the file beneath it. That one was on her on her brother, Thomas. I took that too.
Then I closed his desk. Eleanor hovered near a bookshelf.
"Do you want something?" I asked.
She turned to me, startled I'd spoken to her. Wow, how out of it had I been?
"Pick one. We can bring it back tomorrow."
She nodded, chose a slim poetry volume. I pulled it out and pocketed it. And hell, since I was in a burglarizing mood, I picked up a small frame on his fireplace mantel. It was a picture of Zay, Terric, and me, back when we were lads, laughing, and a much younger Victor laughing right along with us.
Rare, that.
Mine now.
I left, locked the door behind me. Was not about to walk all the way home, so I caught the MAX to the bar where I'd left my car, removed the parking ticket from under my windshield wiper, threw it into the gutter, then drove home.
It was dark by the time I rolled up to the inn, but the place was open, busy. I tried to remember what day of the week it was. No luck. Went inside, ordered whatever the special of the day was, took it up to my room.
The ferret was sleeping in the little hammock strung at the top of the cage. I'd tried to take him down to the animal shelter, but at the last minute found myself setting up his cage in my room, doing research on what to feed him, and getting Eleanor's promise she'd help me keep an eye on him. He was staying with me for now.
I spent some time eating and reading over the files. When I was done with that, I showered, then brought the book Eleanor had wanted to bed and turned pages for her while I smoked and thought.
I had set the picture of Victor, Terric, Zay, and me on the table by my bed and noticed something wasn't right about the back of it.
"Hold on a sec," I said to Eleanor. I placed the book facedown on the bed about where Eleanor's legs would be if she were solid, and picked up the picture, tipping it to better see the back. There was something glued between the cardboard backing and the photo. I removed the backing. Three microthin flash drives no bigger than my thumbnail were stuck to the cardboard. Written on each was a name: Terric, Zayvion, and Shamus.
I pried mine free and took a closer look. Victor's handwriting. I pushed out of bed, went into the other room, and pulled my laptop out from underneath the bills I hadn't been paying. Took that to the couch and plugged in the flash drive.
There were two files on the drive. One labeled LIFE, the other labeled DEATH.
I hesitated, then clicked on LIFE.
The file was full of photos and some videos. I clicked on a slide show view, and lost an hour to pictures of me, my friends, my family, my schoolmates, a few from before my father had died, but most from after. Victor had created a virtual scrapbook of my life, of all the good times, and sure, some of the bad we'd been through together.
When the pictures were done, I wiped my palms over my eyes to clear the tears there. I was going to miss him for the rest of my life.
I closed out that file and clicked on the other labeled DEATH.
I figured it would be friends and family who had passed away, or maybe a will or last message he wanted me to have.
Instead it was filled with photos from surveillance cameras, mug shots, and files. Each photo had a file behind it containing a name, discipline of magic, last-known address and occupation, a list of crimes, and a Closer's name. The documents were written by Victor, and other high-ranking members of the Authority, and they were all marked CLASSIFIED.
These were people who had raped, murdered, stolen, blackmailed, and betrayed. These were people who had used magic to do those things and more.
It was a hit list.
And Victor had left it in my hands.
I sat back and thought about that for a bit. What did he expect me to do with it?
I pushed out of the chair and retrieved the flash drives marked for Terric and Zayvion. Terric's contained one file, filled with pictures, a lot like mine, and several reviews of the art that I guess Terric had once displayed at a gallery. The second file contained some information about some of the greatest Life magic users in the history of the Authority, and an exhaustive history on Soul Complements.
Zay's file was filled with photos, a few that contained a man and woman that might have been his parents. He'd been fostered out pretty young, and as far as I knew, he'd never looked for his birth parents. I'd honestly assumed they were dead, and realistically, they might be.
The other file looked like Victor's diary from the day he joined the Authority. Read like a history book of who's who and what was what.
Neither of them had received a hit list. That he'd given only to me.
Because he knew I would do something about it.
A knock on the door made me jump.
"Mr. Flynn?" the night clerk said. "Call for you. A Mr. Conley."
"I'll be right down." I pocketed the flash drives and turned off my laptop. Pulled on a T-shirt and boots and walked down to the office.
I picked up the phone. "Are you all right?" I asked.
"You said you wanted to be here." Terric sounded tight, but calm. "I'm at my house. Jeremy's on the way."
"You invited him over?"
"No. But he's coming anyway."
I scrubbed my fingertips across my scalp, my new Void stone rings warming as they dampened the magic surging through me.
"Shame? You don't—"
"I'll be there."
I walked out into the cold without my coat, without a weapon. But when I pulled up to Terric's place, I dug through my glove box, then checked under the seat. Found my knife, flicked it open, then walked up to Terric's door.
Tried the latch. It was open. Walked in.
Heard voices in the living room.
Terric stood by the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest. Jeremy paced opposite Terric, which put his back to me.
Terric didn't look up as I walked in. He didn't have to. He'd know if I were within a mile of him now.
"...it him?" Jeremy was saying. "Whatever he's been saying, it's a lie."
"This has nothing to do with Shame," Terric said calmly. "This has everything to do with you and me, Jeremy. With how you've been using me."
"Bullshit."
I flipped the knife up into my fingers. Terric's eyes flicked over to me, along with a very clear "no stabbing" look.
"Do you want to get your stuff now, or do you want me to mail it to you?" Terric asked.
"Damn it, Terric. Why? We have something. I thought it was important to you. I thought _I_ was important to you."
"You lied to me, Jeremy. You've always lied to me."
"You just want me out of the way so you can fuck that shithead Flynn." He had stopped pacing the edge of the room and was advancing on Terric.
Terric's shoulders tightened and his eyes narrowed. "You and I are over. Leave."
"Like hell I'm leaving. You need me."
"No," Terric said.
"He told you to go," I said. "I'd suggest you listen to him."
Jeremy stopped as if an icy wind had suddenly frozen him in his tracks. He turned to glare at me. "You called him?" he accused Terric. "You called this waste of breath to save you?"
"I don't need saving," Terric said. Then, a little quieter, "Not from you."
"Fuck you, Flynn. I know you did this. What did you tell him? What lies did you tell him about me?"
He crossed the room in five hard strides, and I waited, shaking my head. "You really should have left."
"Shame," Terric warned.
"I should have killed you!" Jeremy swung for my face. Stupid move. I ducked that and buried the knife up to the hilt between a couple ribs, then yanked it out and stepped out of his reach.
He staggered back, but had enough anger, and whatever other substance in him, that one wound wasn't going to shut him down.
I'd gotten what I wanted, though: his blood.
He stuck his hand in his pocket, reaching for a gun.
"Stop!" Terric ordered, and a concussion of magic wreaked havoc on the air pressure and my eardrums.
Jeremy was motionless, tightly frozen from knee to neck in the paralyzing Hold spell Terric had cast. "This is out of control," he said. "Crazy. Both of you. I won't stand here and watch you kill each other."
"I didn't come here to kill him," I said. "I can do that anywhere, anytime I want. And when I do"—I looked Jeremy in the eye and smiled—"I will make sure there are no witnesses."
"Shame, you are not helping."
I dragged my fingers across the blade, catching up Jeremy's blood, which he was still leaking quite quickly. Before Terric could start arguing with me, I nicked my finger. With his blood and my blood combined, I drew a Truth spell.
The strong scent of cherries filled the room, the unmistakable mark of Blood magic being used.
Jeremy's eyes widened as the Truth spell spun out from our joined blood, locking us into the binding of Truth, shaped by my hand and will.
"Do you love Terric?" I asked.
"Shit." Terric exhaled.
Jeremy was sweating. Thing is, a Truth spell is as strong as the user's will, and I was a very determined man.
"No," he snarled through gritted teeth.
"Do you care for Terric?"
"No."
"Were you planning on using him and his magic for customized drugs for the Black Crane?"
He was shaking now, his face gone purple-red. "Yes."
"Did you ever care for him?"
"Enough," Terric said. "Shame, break it. It's enough."
I broke the Truth spell. It fell around his feet like loose ropes that soaked into the carpet and were gone.
"You piece of shit," Jeremy said.
"I'm done," Terric said. "Done with this. If you don't walk out that door right now, Jeremy, I'll call the police and have you forcibly removed."
"Police?" I said. "We don't need the police for him."
"Yes," Terric said, "we do. It is too late at night to be dragging a corpse out back and burying it. Which," he said as he finally moved away from the fireplace and walked over to stand next to me, "is what will happen if you stay."
"You think he's going to kill me?" Jeremy said.
"He wouldn't have to," Terric said.
Jeremy finally seemed to hear him. He switched tactics. "Come on, Terric," he said, pouring on the nice and sweet. "I lost my temper. You know how I get sometimes. I just love you so much I go crazy. If you fix my side, I wouldn't be hurting so bad. You and I could talk this out. Privately."
"Good-bye, Jeremy."
Jeremy looked at Terric, then turned his gaze to me. He was a little pale from blood loss, but he must have finally realized he had lost this battle.
"You know what, Conley?" he said. "You were a lousy lay."
Then he turned and walked out of the house, his hand clamped tight over the knife wound. Even managed to slam the door behind him.
We stood there for a minute, me staring at the door, Terric looking at the new bloodstains on the carpet.
"What a mess," he whispered.
"Want me to follow him?" I offered. "Make sure he gets to the ER or something?"
"No. Just. Would you stay? For a while?"
I finally looked over at him. It was like someone had smothered the fire in him. He looked exhausted, pale, and when he spoke, his voice was too soft.
"Just an hour?" he asked.
"I've got time," I said. "Maybe you should get some sleep."
"Yeah," he said, "you're right. You're probably right." He walked carefully around the blood and got halfway to his bedroom door before he stopped and came back into the living room. "I'm going to have to burn some memories before I sleep in there again." He folded down on the couch, facing the back of it.
The blanket he'd used on me was folded on a chair in the corner of the room. I picked it up and placed it over Terric, who, as far as I could tell, had already escaped into unconsciousness.
I did not sleep. Spent too much time thinking about relationships and love and how nobody got out of either unscathed.
After a couple hours, I got up, checked to make sure he was still asleep, then went outside, locking the door behind me. I checked to see if my phone was in my car. It was. I dialed Sunny.
She picked up on the first ring.
"This is Sunny."
"I need a Hound and a favor."
She sighed. "I've had zero sleep in the last two days."
"I know," I said. "How are the leads on the syringe working out?" She had been looking into finding Davy just as much as Clyde and the Authority. Maybe more.
"Nothing solid," she said. "What favor?"
"I want a Hound to find Jeremy Wilson and tell me where he is right now."
"That's a job, not a favor."
"I'll pay. The favor is I don't want anyone knowing I sent them to do this. I want the Hound to contact you, and I want you to tell me when they find him."
"Who's Jeremy Wilson to you, Shame?"
"He hurt Terric."
Out of all the people I knew, Sunny understood running against the rules, running on instinct, and doing everything possible to keep someone you loved safe. She was a Blood magic user. There was no getting out of that discipline without dealing with the darker side of the world.
"We'll forget we ever talked about this, I assume?" she asked.
"Yes."
"And you'll make finding Davy a top priority. Pay me a favor when I want it?"
"Deal."
"I'll call you back." She hung up.
I lit a cigarette and waited. It was cold out, but the sky had cleared, letting stars pierce holes in the heaven.
Took fifteen minutes, flat. Yes, the Hounds are that good.
The phone rang. "Shame."
"He's at a bar down on Third Street. You owe me."
"I owe you." I hung up.
Didn't take me long to drive down there. I found his Jeep and parked nearby, waiting for the bar to close. Got out of the car and smoked a cigarette, pacing the shadows of the building by his Jeep. Eleanor was with me. She hadn't tried to talk me out of this.
I wasn't going to let her.
Jeremy walked out of the bar. Maybe drunk, maybe not. Didn't matter. He strode across the street toward his car.
Didn't see me in the shadows.
When he reached the sidewalk, I sent magic to snake out, dark, silent. It wrapped around his heart, shot up his spine to his brain, paralyzing. His fear washed through me.
Good.
I pushed him into the shadows, forcing his feet to move to my command.
And then I released the hold on the hunger inside me. It consumed. Tore apart his body, snapped his bones, boiled his blood, and burned flesh with fire darker than shadows.
A second passed. Two.
No time to scream. No time to beg.
I drank until there was nothing but ashes falling to the ground.
I drank until his ghost hovered in front of me, frightened, confused.
I threw my cigarette into his ashes and crushed it under my boot. Stared straight into his dead eyes. "Welcome to hell."
He opened his mouth to scream, but I couldn't hear him as he faded away.
With a flick of my fingers, even his ashes were gone.
Problem solved.
# Chapter 34
I went back to the inn. Found myself sitting at my desk, staring at Eleanor's angel statue.
There was one more death I needed to deal with.
Just before dawn I texted Terric and Zay. Told them I was going out of town to clear my head for a day or two. Mountains or coast, I hadn't decided yet. And if they needed to reach me, I'd have my phone on.
Then I stuffed the phone in my sock drawer, made sure the clerk would look after the ferret, and picked up Eleanor's statue since she made several gestures that she wanted me to do so.
I left.
Headed to Seattle. Lost myself to the drive and my thoughts.
Stopped for coffee once and bought a red rose from a roadside vender. Took me some time to get where I wanted to be. Finally found what I was looking for.
A graveyard where Thomas had a plot. Where Dessa had a headstone since there wasn't anything left of her to be buried.
I had still been in the hospital, sitting in Terric's room waiting for him to prove he was going to live through another day, when they'd done this.
She'd told me she had family. But the Hounds who had spied on the burial said only a minister had been there.
It make me think that was why her brother's death hit her so hard. He was all the real family she had had.
I rolled slowly through the graveyard, parked, and got out of the car. Wandered to the southwest corner. I had forgotten to bring the files with me, but I had a decent memory of the layout.
Eleanor always seemed a little wary in graveyards, though I never understood what she feared. Because, seriously, she was a ghost.
I finally found the grave. A headstone was already placed and simply read DESSA OLIVIA LEEDS, along with the dates of her birth and death.
Eleanor touched my hand, where I held the statue of death with angel wings. Then she pointed at the grave.
"Are you sure?" I whispered.
She touched my heart and nodded. So I placed the statue there, Death's weary head lowered, the scythe useless in his hands, as his wings stretched out for a sky he would never know.
Eleanor stood beside me, her arm cold around my waist.
I didn't know how long I stood there and stared. Maybe an hour. Maybe more. It rained, stopped, and rained again.
Eventually I became aware of a heartbeat that wasn't mine. Blinked and looked around. Terric stood just a short ways off. Noticed me trying to decide if he was a mirage or not. Came walking over.
Bastard had followed me up to Seattle. I wondered how many Hounds he'd had tracking me. Probably dozens. I hadn't been very observant lately.
But at least he didn't say anything, just came closer until he was beside me, looking down at her grave with me.
Everything around me was dead. The grass over her grave, the trees and bushes.
I remembered the rose in my hand, the only flower I'd ever bought for her. I knelt, but once my knees sank into that cold, wet, dead grass, my hands started shaking. I suddenly realized it was pouring rain, merciless. And very, very cold.
I placed the rose where I thought her heart might be. But the flower had been in my care for too long. It was withered. Dead.
Just like everything I touched.
I wiped rain off my face. "I can't even keep a flower alive," I said. "Everything dies. Anyone I . . . care for is going to die. I'll make them die."
"I'm still alive," he said.
"Not forever. Not for long," I said.
"Maybe."
That admission, that it was a very real possibility for me to kill everything I laid a finger on, for me to kill him, did more for me than any attempt at comfort.
"You can still make choices," he said. "Choose to be a man."
"No," I said, the memories of drawing on Death magic, the memories of surrendering to its vengeful need filling me with a shudder of pleasure. I wanted that. The pleasure. The oblivion. "I don't think so. Not anymore."
Terric knelt in the rain next to me. Reached out and placed his fingers on the dead rose. Bent his head, like a man grieving, or praying.
I felt magic draw to him like a mist over the grass. Felt it filling the words he spoke.
The rose trembled, then washed with life again, velvet red petals, deep green stem and leaves, and roots that reached out and dug deep into the rich earth. Planting there in the newly green grass. Growing. Alive.
The bushes around us stirred as if caught in a wind, and new sprouts pushed up from the ground.
He pulled his hand back and caught me with his gaze. He was still human. Still Terric.
"We do this together," he said. "You're not alone, Shame. And, yes, we might not be men anymore," he said. "But that doesn't mean we have to be monsters. Our fate is still our own."
"Do you believe that?" I asked quietly.
"I'm trying to," he said. "Because it's all that keeps the madness away."
He stood. Held his hand down for me. I took his hand and pulled myself up onto my feet.
"Did it hurt?" I asked.
"What?"
"Admitting you're not perfect."
He scowled at me. "Shut up, Shame."
I smiled and shut up because, well, most of the time, Terric was my friend. Sometimes he was more than that. A brother.
He hung his arm over my shoulder.
We walked away from the grave. Walked away from the death we'd never be able to leave behind us, walked away from the past we could not escape.
I guessed we had decided to face the madness together, or die trying. Sounded good to me. Might even be fun.
I wrapped my arm around his shoulder too and he leaned his head against mine.
It wasn't much of a beginning.
But it was ours.
# Epilogue
I had waited. Long enough that no one was following me to make sure I wasn't doing something wrong. Something destructive.
But now it was night, and darkness was exactly what I needed.
It wasn't hard to walk into the facility. I could cast Sleep without using so much magic Terric would know what I was doing.
So I did.
I could cast Scatter to interfere with the cameras.
So I did.
And then I walked through the high-security facility, counted the doors until I reached the one I wanted.
Locks are easy to pick.
Then I was inside. With her.
Brandy lay in her bed, eyes open, but not seeing this world. They kept her heavily medicated. They said it helped her remain calm.
And they needed her calm, because they needed her alive.
So we could bargain with Eli. So we could bargain with his masters.
But there was no bargaining with monsters. I should know. I was one.
I stepped over to her bed, my boots loud in the hollowness of the room.
She didn't see me. Didn't hear me.
That was fine. She wasn't who I had come here for. She was simply a way to get what I wanted.
And I wanted revenge.
I sat on the bed next to her, studied her face, her hair, her lips. She could have been pretty, if there was any sense of humanity looking out from her eyes.
But she was a shell, cored out and emptied by madness many long years ago.
I understood madness too.
I brushed her hair away from her face, then leaned so I was directly in her line of vision even though she didn't see me.
I put my hand over her mouth.
Death can be painful, or . . . sweet. I didn't need her death, not just yet. But I wanted her pain.
I reached out with Death magic, letting it cover her. I drank down an ounce of her life.
Brandy's body arched and she screamed.
"Do you feel that, Eli?" I asked, keeping eye contact with Brandy as she trembled. "Do you feel her agony?" I drank more of her life down, Death magic twisting her nerves, catching fire beneath her skin.
The monster inside me liked it.
I liked it too.
"Do you understand what I can do to her?
"Yes, of course you know," I said as fear set her heart beating faster. But this was not her fear; she was too far gone to know fear.
This was Eli's fear.
And that was the fear I wanted.
His sudden cold knowledge of what I could do to the other half of his soul shone through her empty eyes.
"You know what I can do to her, because you killed just like this. Killed Joshua, killed Dessa, killed Victor. You killed people I loved. With no shred of remorse.
"But you did not think about who you left behind, injured."
I drew the magic away from her, and her body went limp. She was sweating hard from the absence of pain. But her eyes were still open. And they were filled with Eli's terror. With his knowledge, his attention.
"You have left me injured, Eli. A very bad mistake. I am the wrong man to hurt."
I let the monster forward, which was not hard, as it took up so much room in me now. I smiled as his terror turned to panic. Desperation.
"I am going to destroy you, Collins. I am going to make you writhe. Consider this your invitation to start running. Away from me, or toward me, it doesn't matter. Because I am going to make the remainder of your life agony." I smiled at the pleasure I would gain from that. "And then I will make you beg for death until I am tired of hearing you scream."
I placed my palm flat over Brandy's eyes.
Death comes for us all. Sometimes when we least expect it. Sometimes at our bidding.
I sent pain twisting through her again, knowing Eli felt it. Knowing how it tormented him. Knowing how helpless it made him feel. Then pulled my hand away so he could see me. So he could see exactly what I was doing.
I was surprised to see a second awareness in her eyes. For just a moment, it was Brandy looking at me. _Please,_ she mouthed. _Kill me_.
I hesitated. She was begging for mercy. For relief from the tortured life she had been living. But I hadn't come here to show her mercy. Only to make Eli hurt.
Then Brandy was gone, and it was Eli looking through her eyes again. Panicked. Begging me not to kill her.
"You know where to find me," I said to him.
I placed my fingers against her chest and drew a glyph there. I stared into Eli's pleading eyes, wanting to see his pain.
Magic filled the invisible line I traced, crushing her heart.
Tighter. Tighter.
Until there was no beat left. Until she was cold and dead. Until even Eli's hating eyes were gone.
Brandy's ghost stepped free of her body and threw her arms wide, head tipped back, smiling as if she had taken her first deep breath in many, many years.
I waited for her to see me. Judge me.
She touched the side of my cheek with cold, cold fingers. _Thank you_ , she mouthed.
Then she was gone.
Revenge, mercy. Tonight they were the same.
I left the room. Left the building. Strode away into the darkness of night.
I flicked my fingers and canceled the Scatter spell and Sleep spell. No one would know I had been there. No one would see the glyph I had drawn. No one would remember.
Only Eli.
Everything was just how it had been only moments before.
Except everything had changed.
This was my war now.
Read on for an exciting excerpt from the next Broken Magic novel by Devon Monk,
_STONE COLD_
Coming in April 2014 from Roc.
#
The door behind Eleanor opened, letting in the March wind, a little rain, and the man I had come here to kill.
The man was a few years older than the photo I'd seen, black hair shot through with gray, white face gone pudgy behind square bifocals. His name was Stuart, and he carried himself like someone who was irritated with his own skin: stiff movements, coat clutched closed with one hand over his stomach, a scowl hammered into his face.
Not what I'd expected a murderer to look like, but then killers came in all shapes and sizes.
He glanced around the diner. Didn't notice me. I didn't stand out in a diner that hadn't passed a health inspection in a decade. And although it would be fun, I didn't wear a sign that said "Shame Flynn. Death magic user, loyal friend, troublemaker, and the last guy you'd want to meet in a dark alley if you'd done something naughty."
He didn't notice Eleanor either, but that was understandable.
Eleanor was a ghost.
She sat across from me, long blond hair flowing with an underwater grace as she moved. Soft features, sweet smile, she was beautiful when alive, and still beautiful when dead. She noticed me noticing him. Tipped her head a bit, narrowed her eyes. "What?" she mouthed.
I couldn't actually hear her because—hello—she was dead. But I'd learned how to read her lips over the last couple years since she'd been stuck with me.
"Nothing," I lied.
She, as usual, didn't believe me.
She scanned the diner, saw the guy take the booth just off to our right, looked back at me. Shook her head.
"Not listening." I stared at my breakfast so I didn't have to see her, poked at the waffles. My fork bounced off the hardened whipped cream.
She shifted through the table like someone forging a stream and floated in front of me, half of her body stuck in the table.
"Jesus. Do you stay up at night thinking of ways to creep me out?"
"No killing," she mouthed. Or maybe it was "No kidding." I didn't say I was _good_ at reading lips.
"Sorry. I made a promise. I never go back on my word."
She rolled her eyes.
"Fine. Lately," I amended. "I never go back on my word lately. And that man"—I lowered my voice because, seriously, I did not need people looking at the crazy guy who was yelling at his waffles—"has done unspeakable things to people. With magic. For years. He'll continue doing unspeakable things, with or without magic. He should have been dead a long, long time ago. I'm just taking care of business."
"Terric." She pointed at my heart, which wasn't beating all that well today. A problem I intended to take care of as soon as the ghost got off her high horse so I could kill the guy.
I lifted my knife. "We'll leave Terric out of this. Plus, he's avoiding me, not the other way around."
Not that I could ever get away from him. We were Soul Complements: Death magic, Life magic. Ever since the magical apocalypse a few years ago had made magic a gentle force, it was just us Soul Complements who could break magic and make it do the old, horrifying things.
Well, and the old, wonderful things too, but that wasn't really my department.
I was the guy who handled the darker side of things.
I'd been a damn fine Death magic user back in the day. And now? Well, now I _was_ death.
While it had its perks, it didn't come without a hell of a price. I carried death, but if I didn't let it loose, didn't let the Death magic in me consume and kill, then it simply consumed and killed me.
I was never going to be an old man. Hell, I'd be lucky to live another year.
But I was damn sure going to live long enough to take out some people before my time was up. For one, that killer in the booth across from me, and for two, the psychopath Eli Collins, whom I still hadn't tracked down.
A cold slap of pain hit my shoulder and forced my attention back on my surroundings. The grease and noise of the diner fell back around me again, the heat of the air, the cool of the wind coming through the door. Eleanor had her hand up, ready to slap me again to get my attention. She didn't need to.
Another man stood just inside the door, scanning the diner.
Terric Conley was a bit taller than me, dressed better than me, and had blue eyes and good looks angels would fistfight for. His hair had been white since the day I'd tried to kill him and he'd killed me back. Altogether, he was the sort of man women fell for. Unfortunately for women, he was the sort of man who fell for men.
He was also a hell of a Life magic user, and, when we admitted such things, my friend, my partner, and my Soul Complement.
He annoyed the hell out of me.
He spotted me and started my way.
"Shame." He stopped by the table, glanced down at the untouched plate of waffles, strawberries, and whipped cream in front of me. A frown wrinkled his forehead. "Breakfast? Why are you eating breakfast here? Now?"
"What's wrong with here and now?"
"For one"—he glanced back across the diner, then at me—"this place is a dump. And you promised you'd go with me to a meeting today."
" _I_ promised?"
"Okay, fine. I promised. Allie and Zayvion want you there. Us there," he corrected.
"Busy. Sorry." I sawed my way through the waffle with a wholly inadequate knife, then shoveled waffle and whipped cream into my mouth. Chewed. And chewed. And kept on chewing.
_Tough_ didn't describe this waffle. Kevlar had more give.
"Just . . . come, Shame," he said. "Allie wants you there."
Ever since Allie had gotten pregnant, she was all sorts of unpredictable in the emotional department. I found it endlessly amusing. Terric had taken to tiptoeing around her, and Zayvion had threatened to tie my spine in knots if I riled her up. Again.
I spit the waffle into the napkin. "If I don't?"
Terric raised an eyebrow. "You need me to threaten you?"
"Might be amusing."
"I can promise you it would not be."
Had some fire behind those words. Man could deal out the hurt when he wanted to. Apparently, me not going would make him want to.
"What the hell kind of meeting is it, anyway? You and I are no longer employed by the Authority."
"We aren't the Head of the Authority. Doesn't mean we aren't a part of it."
The killer at the booth had finished his coffee and small bowl of oatmeal. He tossed cash on the table, pushed up on his feet, and, glancing at me, walked out the door.
Damn it. He knew I was tailing him.
I could kill him from here. Without even standing up. Without even laying a finger on him. I could reach out, let the Death magic inside me pop his heart, blow his brain, drain his lungs.
Just the thought of it made my heart stutter, then pause, for several beats too many.
Eleanor put one hand over her mouth and watched me with wide eyes.
It was weird to see her worried that I might die. I was, after all, the bloke who had killed her and then hogtied her to my mortal coil.
I took a couple even breaths and focused on not panicking. Terric was saying something, but I wasn't listening.
Finally, the vise of death released my heart and blood pushed a hot flood under my skin. Painful and heady.
"...drunk?" Terric was asking.
"Yes." I had no idea what he was talking about. Hoped it was an offer.
I checked the diner again. Killer guy was long gone. Well, there went two weeks of hunting down the drain.
"Cover that for me, will you?" I asked. "I left my cash in my other coat." I stood, wavered a little from the head rush.
Eleanor nodded and then pointed at Terric. "Do it," she mouthed.
Terric sighed and threw a bill on the table.
I gave Eleanor a back-off look. "Is it about Davy?" I asked as we made our way to the door.
He glanced out at the rain and flipped his collar before taking the plunge to the sidewalk. "Weren't you listening? Never mind. Don't answer that. No. Nothing new there. We still haven't found him."
"So what is it about?"
We strode down to his car double-parked down a block or so. I could feel every heartbeat like a finger tapping a rhythm against my spine. Forty-seven lives in the office building, twelve in the coffee shop, eight in the bank.
He didn't say anything until we had ducked into the car.
"How's Eleanor?" He couldn't see her unless he drew on magic to do so, but lately he made it a point to ask about her. Which she loved.
Women.
She smiled, then made pointy motions toward him again.
"Still dead," I said.
She slapped me in the back of the head. Ow. Brain freeze.
"Also, angry."
"What about?"
"Who can tell?"
He glanced at me. Didn't buy my dismissal. I didn't care.
Time to change the subject. "You going to tell me what's really wrong?"
He started the engine. "What do you mean?"
"You didn't get in until five this morning. You paced until six. It's what, nine o'clock?"
"Ten thirty."
"You've had three hours of sleep. Not like you to miss your beauty sleep."
His eyes narrowed just a bit. Uncomfortable subject. I should probably just leave it alone.
So of course, I didn't.
"Come on, now, Ter. Got a new guy working your night shift?"
He stopped at a light and watched the pedestrians without umbrellas take their time crossing the street.
"I've been . . . keeping busy. Looking into things."
"Do these things have names? Social Security numbers?"
He shook his head.
Huh. I don't know why, but I'd never thought of Terric as the kind of guy to keep secrets. He was too by-the-book, too goody-goody.
"Look at you," I said. "All mysterious and secretfying. Please tell me it's both a deep and shamefully dark secret you're hiding."
"I'm not hiding anything. Nothing you need to know."
"Those are not quite the same thing, are they?"
I glanced away and caught the blur of light from the corner of my eye. Light that surrounded him. Huh. Maybe it wasn't a new boyfriend on his mind.
Maybe it was magic.
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1. Cover
2. Praise
3. Books by DEVON MONK
4. Title page
5. Copyright page
6. Contents
7. Dedication
8. Acknowledgments
9. Chapter 1
10. Chapter 2
11. Chapter 3
12. Chapter 4
13. Chapter 5
14. Chapter 6
15. Chapter 7
16. Chapter 8
17. Chapter 9
18. Chapter 10
19. Chapter 11
20. Chapter 12
21. Chapter 13
22. Chapter 14
23. Chapter 15
24. Chapter 16
25. Chapter 17
26. Chapter 18
27. Chapter 19
28. Chapter 20
29. Chapter 21
30. Chapter 22
31. Chapter 23
32. Chapter 24
33. Chapter 25
34. Chapter 26
35. Chapter 27
36. Chapter 28
37. Chapter 29
38. Chapter 30
39. Chapter 31
40. Chapter 32
41. Chapter 33
42. Chapter 34
43. Epilogue
44. Excerpt from STONE COLD
1. Cover Page
2. Table of Contents
3. Start
| years. It stilled me.
I would not let him down.
Allie and I walked over to the table and she took her place beside Terric, an empty chair on her other side for Zayvion, then Victor and the Overseer.
Eleanor floated over to her favorite perch in the dining room—the bar at the far end.
I sat off to one side of the table, putting as many chairs as I could between me and the living.
"Small group," I noted.
"We've already spoken to the other Soul Complements," the Overseer started. "So now it's just the four of you."
Zay came back from the kitchen with two pies in his hands. Set those on the table. Cherry and apple. Not a bad score.
He applied a knife to the apple pie.
"And what have the others decided?" Terric asked.
The Overseer shook his head. "I'd rather not say. If something happens, I don't want any of you to have information that might harm the others."
"So why have all of us here now?" I asked. "Do you expect me to cover my ears and hum while Zay and Allie talk to you?"
"Shame," Victor said, "please. Show some respect."
"All right: respectfully," I said. "You do know we can hear each other?"
"Victor and I agreed it would be best," the Overseer said. "Since you've all decided to stay."
I turned my gaze to Allie. "Really?"
"This is our home," she said. "And our home ground. If something comes our way, we know the place and people better than anywhere or anyone in the world. I'd rather fight or hide here."
I didn't have to ask Zayvion what he thought about that decision. His heartbeat was steady but hard, just a little too much adrenaline pushing through his veins. He didn't disagree but he knew they were in for trouble. Fight. Flight. Maybe both.
And they had a baby to protect.
Hell.
Terric and I had already made our decision to stay put. Now there was even more reason to do so.
"Are you staying at your place?" I asked. "There's room here at the inn if you want."
"Thanks," Allie said. "But we're staying home. We're close to the well of magic out there." She nodded. "So we can access that pretty quickly if we need to."
I didn't ask her if they were accessing it because it was a powerful deposit of magic or because there was something about the St. Johns well that seemed to make healing with magic even easier. If they were hurt, being near that well might be the best for them. The best for Allie.
Zay was still busy serving pie, by looking at a person at the table, pointing the knife at one pie, then the other, and when the person nodded, cutting a generous slice and sliding it over to him.
The Overseer and Terric both took cherry; Victor and Allie had apple; Zay didn't serve himself a slice. When he looked at me, I pointed at the apple and he just pushed the rest of the pie my way.
I didn't bother with a plate. Picked up my fork and had at it, watching the others.
The Overseer sipped his coffee and sat back. He was more tired than he was letting on, and I noticed a slight tremble in his hand.
"So, what aren't you telling us?" I asked around a mouthful. The new chef kicked ass when it came to desserts. Well, she kicked ass when it came to any of the food we were serving, though I'd go to my grave saying my mum made the best bread known to mankind.
The Overseer considered me, picked up his coffee, and took another drink.
"I could ask you the same question, Mr. Flynn, Mr. Conley, but time is short. Why didn't you contact me about the Closer's death?"
Zay had been walking around the table to sit next to Allie. He paused, pivoting just a bit so he faced Victor.
"Who?" he asked quietly.
"Joshua," Terric answered. "We found Joshua Romero a few hours ago. In a parking garage. Dead."
Allie put her fork on her plate. "Oh no," she said. She pressed her fingers over her eyes, holding them there for a minute, then dropping her hands into her lap. When she looked up, she wasn't crying yet. I could tell that would come later. Instead she had that take-no-prisoners glint in her eye.
That glint always got us in trouble.
Okay: more trouble than usual.
"How?" she asked.
The Overseer glanced at me. Zay took his seat but did not eat the pie. He was looking at me too.
"You do realize I'm not in charge anymore," I said.
"Fine," Allie said. "Terric, do you know how he died?"
"Eli Collins," I said. Allie held her breath and Zay's eyes pooled with gold. Since Collins was also an ex-boyfriend of Allie's, and a man who had worked on experimental magic and technology integrations with her very dead, very disturbed father, I understood their reactions. Plus, any memories we'd tried to take away from him had been returned when magic was healed.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
I had a mouthful of pie, so I nodded.
Terric took over. "There are glyphs carved into Joshua. Death, Pain, Binding. It looked like Eli's signature."
"I want to see him," Allie said.
"Allie," Zay started.
"Don't need to, love," I said. "It was Eli's hand. Swear on it."
"Will this change your decision?" the Overseer asked.
I didn't know if he was asking me or them, but I answered, "Not a bit."
Terric shook his head. "We're staying."
Victor was tapping his finger softly on the edge of the table. He might have lost most of his sight, but he had not lost his ability to read people. I figured he had Terric and me pegged. He probably even knew we weren't planning to wait around for Eli to find us.
Take the fire to the fire, as, really, no one says.
"And you?" the Overseer asked Allie and Zay.
"No," they said simultaneously.
"We're staying here," Zay finished.
Since I was across the table, I think I was the only one who saw Allie's lips moving ever so slightly with the words Zayvion was saying.
They were probably thinking the same thoughts. Speaking to each other in their minds. Stuck together brain to brain with superelastic Soul Complement glue.
It was creepy.
But they were my friends. My creepy, creepy friends.
"I advise otherwise," the Overseer said. "I believe you both, well, all of you, would be much safer out of the area. Perhaps out of the United States."
None of us said anything. I ate another couple bites of pie, then sat back and drank coffee.
Victor's frown had gone from thoughtful to disappointed. I guess he'd hoped the Overseer could talk sense into Allie and Zay at least. He should know better than that. I'd never seen them do anything but stand their ground.
"Well, that's settled, then," Victor said. "Mr. Moretti, I think we've heard their final decision on this matter."
The Overseer pushed away from the table and stood, his fingers resting on the back of his chair. "I wish you'd reconsider, Zayvion and Allison. You have made a very dangerous choice in staying."
Zay was already on his feet, his hand reaching down to help Allie up.
A wave of hunger rolled through me, seeing them there, heartbeats joined, alive and burning. I wrapped my hand around my coffee cup and sucked the heat out of it.
_Control it, Flynn. Zay's counting on you._
"Thank you for your concern," Allie said. "But this is our home. We aren't going to leave it."
Said the woman who had stood on the front line of the apocalypse and kicked its ass.
"I admire your courage," the Overseer said. "And I wish you strength. If I can help, please contact me."
"We will, sir," Zayvion said. "Thank you."
The Overseer started toward the door, and Victor followed a little more slowly.
I wanted to talk to Victor. See if he knew how Dessa fit into all this, but my control was damn near exhausted. And Terric was right there, just a few seats away.
Staring at me.
Being around him usually dampened my need to feed. But it wasn't enough to be in the same room with him right now. What I wanted was life. Allie's life, Zayvion's life. Terric's life.
Terric waited. He knew what I wanted. Knew he could give it to me.
Knew I knew it too. And was waiting for me to ask.
If I asked and triggered the monster in him, one of us would end up dead.
Besides, I'd had enough of walking among the living for the day.
"So that was fun," I said as soon as the door closed behind Victor and the Overseer. "The four of us, holding out while our doom sets us in its sights. Just like old times. Unlike old times, I plan to be drunk for as much of this as possible. Who's up for a bottle or two?"
Terric just shook his head and pushed away from the table. "Has either of you talked to Davy lately?"
Allie answered, "Not for a few days. Why? Is he okay?"
"I saw him last night. We saw him," Terric said. "And he saw Joshua's body. He knows it's Eli behind his death."
Zay took in a deep breath and did that stare-into-space thing for a second. Used to be he could sort of reach out and feel where people were in the city. Back when he was Guardian of the gates. Back when there was enough magic in the world to open and close magical gates. Back when magic was broken, but a hell of a lot easier to deal with. Except, you know, everyone was pretty damn good at using it to kill one another.
Maybe now he was just trying to decide how to talk Allie into going away somewhere safe.
"How did Davy take it?" Allie asked.
Terric shrugged, then rubbed at one shoulder as if it had a kink there. "Pretty sure he wants to be a part of taking Eli down."
Zay nodded and so did Allie.
"I want to see the glyphs," Allie said. "Where is the . . . where is Joshua?"
Terric stood, dug his phone out of his pocket. "I took a couple pictures." He thumbed through the selection, which appeared to be password protected, then handed the phone to Allie.
Zay nodded just slightly in thanks and Terric nodded back.
Allie frowned and adjusted the picture so she could see it the way she wanted.
Let them be all sleuthy. I found a decent bourbon, filled a glass. Took a long, hard swallow.
Burned all the way down.
Eleanor was perched on the edge of the bar, swinging her feet. I was pretty sure she hadn't taken her eyes off Zayvion since we'd walked in here.
"He's taken, love," I said quietly to her. "Plus, he prefers his women breathing."
She rolled her eyes and very carefully and slowly mouthed the words _fuck you_.
I shook my head. "I like them breathing too."
She jumped down off the bar. Then she pushed through it and slapped me across the back of the head. I winced and chuckled into the glass.
"Well," I said as I refilled the tumbler. "Since you three seem to have some catching up to do, I am going to my room. Call me if you need me. Hold on." I lifted one finger and navigated out from behind the bar, tumbler and bottle in one hand. "Better yet, don't call me unless you absolutely must."
Zay folded his arms across his chest and gave me and my bottle a very disapproving glare as I walked out of the room. Allie just looked sad at my lack of . . . well, probably lack of everything.
That hurt.
I didn't let it show. "Good night, all. See you on the morn."
"Shame," Terric said. "It's morn right now. It's not even noon. And you have a date in a couple hours."
"A date?" Allie asked. "Who?"
"Just a girl I met in a bar," I said.
"Ex-government," Terric said. "I'd guess CIA or FBI."
"I don't think so," I interrupted. "She wouldn't be asking us for information if she was in the intelligence community."
"There are things we've kept out of the government's hands for years," he said. "Even the CIA and FBI don't have the records we have."
"True."
"That's both interesting and worrisome," Allie said, "but not as interesting as you wanting to date her. How long have you known her?"
"A few hours."
"Hours?"
"Yes. Which is why I'll leave you creatures of the light to your day, and get some sleep while I can." I strolled down the hall, Eleanor not far behind me. Listened to Zay and Allie and Terric. Talking. Talking about me. I tried to ignore their whispers. Shame wasn't the same. Was worse than they'd ever seen. On the edge of losing control. Of becoming the monster.
They didn't know how right they were.
Closed myself in my room. Kicked off my boots, while finishing off the tumbler in deep gulps. Trying to drown the hunger, the need. It helped, but not enough.
Pulled off my coat, my shirt. Sat on the edge of my bed, hands and heart shaking.
I was hungry. Hungry to kill.
Eleanor stood across the room, her hands in her ghostly pockets. I lifted the bottle toward her in a toast. Then drank from it. Trying to burn away my need. Trying to dull my sorrow for Joshua. He was a good man. A decent guy. Husband. Father.
Dead.
We'd lost him. To Collins the Cutter. To that heartless bastard.
When I found Eli—and I would—I was going to make him pay for every cut in Joshua's flesh. For every moment of life he'd stolen from him.
I tipped the bottle up, drank. And drank.
Eleanor finally drifted over. Sat on the edge of my bed next to me. Pointed at the book that had fallen out of my coat pocket and onto the floor.
"Ah, now. I promised, didn't I?"
She nodded.
I pushed off the bed. Scooped up the book. Got myself sitting again, with my back against the headboard.
I patted the blankets next to me. "Come on. I'm not going to read it to you."
She tipped her head, and for just a second, she gave me that hopeful glance. The one women tend to give men they think can be saved.
I blinked, slowly, the alcohol taking some of the hard, hungry edges off the world. And waited for her.
She finally drifted up, sat down next to me, her back against the headboard, knees curled up beneath her. She rested her hand on my shoulder and propped her chin there too so she could look down at the book I held. I opened it.
We had a system, Eleanor and I. I'd drink. Hold up the book with one hand so she could see both pages. She'd tap me on the shoulder, and I'd turn the page. Drink again.
We did this until the bottle was gone.
Because the bottle was always gone before the pages were done.
# Chapter 13
I'd be lying if I said I was completely sober by lunchtime. But just like the cigarettes that burned down too quickly in my hands, the edge-dulling effect of the bottle I'd drunk was fading fast.
Zay and Allie and Terric had left the inn so the staff could open it up for the lunch and dinner crowd. I decided a cab was my best bet. I didn't want to deal with the bus or light rail crowded with beating hearts.
The pizza place was over on Mississippi Avenue, a two-story green-on-green stucco building with a clay tile awning stretched over white-framed windows and doors. I strolled in and helped myself to a booth by the window.
Eleanor drifted between wooden tables and patrons, then paused to study the pizzas lined up along the counter behind glass.
I glanced out the window and watched Dessa walk across the street. She'd pulled her hair back in a clip that allowed most of it to fall down around her shoulders, and had put on a gray formfitting dress that showed a kick of orange at each step where the skirt hit her knees. She wasn't wearing a jacket, or carrying a purse big enough for a handgun.
She was poised, confident, strong. And beautiful.
Eleanor floated back over toward me and put her hand on my shoulder, pointing a finger out the window.
"I see her," I said.
Dessa stepped into the room and strolled right over to me. She'd probably staked out the place and had watched me walk in.
"Didn't think you'd come," she said as she took the bench opposite me.
"Why not?" I asked.
"You don't seem like the kind of man who likes to be inconvenienced."
"Who says this is an inconvenience?"
She stopped, studied me. "Do you ever take those sunglasses off?"
"Only when there's something worth seeing." I reached up, pulled them off, and gave her a smile.
She blushed just a bit, which was cute. "I see you brought your charm."
"What did you bring, Dessa?"
"I do have information you want."
"That's true," I said. "Should we pretend to like each other over pizza and a beer?"
"What if I already like you, Shame Flynn?"
My turn to pause. "Naw, you just like what I can do." I leaned forward a bit. "How I can kill."
"That's why I found you," she said, her gaze holding mine. "That's not why I'm on a date with you."
"Mmm," I said. "Then how about I buy us a beer?"
"Let's make it two."
We ordered pizza and a couple pints. Talking took a backseat while we made a dent in our slices. She'd gone for a mix of veggies and meat, while I'd opted for the full-on carnivore. She ate her pizza the right way—with her fingers.
"Dating me, yeah, sure, I can understand the draw," I said after I'd demolished my lunch. "How could you resist tall, dark, and dangerous?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Tall?"
"Hush. What I don't understand is why you want to give me any information at all."
She shrugged and wiped her mouth on a napkin. "My brother was a part of your organization. He was the most honest, caring man I knew. He wouldn't have gotten involved with the Authority if he didn't agree with what it stood for."
"That's a lot of blind faith you have there."
"Just faith. I know you people have done illegal things. But from what I can tell, he believed the Authority was dedicated to doing the right thing, even if that meant making some hard choices."
I nodded. "That was the idea. But like all ideas, once people are added to the mix, there are bound to be problems."
"Problems like the man who killed my brother."
I took a drink of my beer. I wasn't going to give her information on Eli, didn't want her in the way of whatever he was planning on doing to people. "Did you grow up in the area?"
"My dad was in the army. I grew up everywhere."
"And when you got out on your own, where did you settled down?"
"San Francisco."
"What did you do there?"
"Officially?" She smiled. "I was a national account manager for a bioscience division of a tech company."
"Unofficially?"
She sipped her beer. "I spied on people."
"CIA? FBI?"
"I wasn't offered details," she said. "Just money in exchange for being reliable and discreet."
"Is that what you're doing now? Gathering intel?"
"Not for them. I said I was ex-government. I meant that. The only intel I want is who killed my brother." She held up her hand. "I know. You're not going to give it to me. But I said I had a few things to tell you, and I'm going to."
"Why?"
"We started off on the wrong foot," she said. Her eyes slid away to the window and the people moving about out there, then back to me. "I misjudged you."
"Are you sure about that?"
"I thought you didn't care about anything. I thought you'd like the deal, the hunt, the payoff."
"Maybe I do."
"Maybe. But it's not what you care about."
"It's fascinating how you think you know me and we've barely met."
"You've seen me naked."
"Not quite."
"You care about Terric, Dash, and Clyde," she went on. "You care about Zayvion Jones and Allison Beckstrom and Cody Miller."
I was surprised she'd brought up Cody, not that she was wrong. He and I had run together, gotten into a lot of trouble when we were younger, before he'd had his brain broken by the last set of Soul Complements who'd wanted to take over the world. He'd ultimately been the one who had held magic together long enough for it to join. He was the one who had healed it. And, yes, he was my friend.
"You care about the missing people who have been showing up dead in Forest Park," she said.
At my raised eyebrows, she shrugged. "Just because I'm not working for the government doesn't mean I don't know how to gather information. You are a target, you know."
"Yeah, sure. Plenty of people want me dead."
"People, yes. But so does the Black Crane Syndicate."
It was my turn to drink beer and look out the window for a bit. "What do they want me dead for?"
"They want Terric Conley. They know you're the only person standing in the way of them owning him."
"Owning?"
"I don't have the details, but they are grooming him for something that involves magic and their drug trade. There's a man who is part of the power in the organization. Jeremy Wilson. He's promised he can deliver a new mix of magic and drugs. He's promised product that will send half the world begging at their feet."
I didn't say anything. Couldn't hear over the hard anger that scorched hot and unreasonable across my brain. Dash was right. Jeremy was using Terric. For more than just a clean bill of health.
"And what?" I said, like I was exhaling a hard stream of smoke. "Do you want me to pay you for this information?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. I'm just doing . . . something I think my brother would approve of. I might not be positive that the Authority has always done the right thing, but I know some things about the Black Crane. Drugs, magic, human trafficking, blackmail, backdoor deals. I know what they are. And if they're coming for you, for people who my brother believed in, then I want you to have a fighting chance against them."
"This means something to me," I said. "You telling me this—if it's true."
"It's true."
"I don't leave a debt unpaid."
"Reconsider telling me who killed my brother."
"No."
She held still, didn't even breathe, her hands clasped together in front of her on the table. "It was worth a shot, right?"
"I would have done the same," I agreed.
"All right." She tipped back her beer and set the glass on the table. "How about you buy me a beer, and we'll call it even?"
"That easy?"
"I still want information," she said. "But I don't have to get it from you. Tonight."
So I bought her a beer.
She might be a player, willing to bribe or bludgeon her way to what she wanted, but she was sincere about this, about giving me information because she thought it was the right thing to do, even if I didn't give her what she wanted in return.
Looked like I'd misjudged her too.
Somehow day burned down to evening. We finally moved away from our table and back toward the lounge and bar. We spent a couple hours listening to live music, drinking, and talking over other things—not the Authority, crime syndicates, or dead loved ones. Just movies, politics, and embarrassing high school memories.
Everything felt normal with her, easy with her. Like this was a life I could live. Wasn't that a surprise?
When the band turned to reggae music, we both groaned.
"Don't like reggae?" I asked.
"I do not," she laughed. "It's getting late. I should be heading home."
I threw some money on the table to settle our bill, then walked with her out of the place. The cold night air stole away the remaining warmth of the club as we lingered outside the door on the sidewalk.
"Do you need a ride?" she asked.
"So you were spying on me before you walked in. I wondered."
She paused, her hand in her purse, and grinned up at me. The color was a little high across her cheeks, and the whiskey gingers she'd been drinking put a soft glitter in her eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Now, now, darlin'," I said. "Let's not ruin a good night with bad lies."
"So good lies are okay?"
"Sometimes those can be the best."
"Are you sure about the ride?" she asked. "It isn't out of my way."
"I think I'll find my own way home tonight."
"All right," she said. "Good." She took a step to the corner, then turned back toward me. "This was nice, Shame. Maybe we can do it again sometime."
"Maybe we can," I said. "But we probably shouldn't."
"Well, then," she said. "I guess this is good-bye. Good-bye, Shamus Flynn."
"Good-bye, Dessa Leeds."
She gave me one more smile, then crossed the street and strode down the alleyway opposite before I could change my mind.
I started walking and did not look back. Waved down a cab three or four blocks later, and closed my eyes, trying not to think of Dessa, or what might have been between us.
It wasn't long before the cab pulled up to the inn.
The inn was winding down for the night, the cleaning staff turning down lights and setting the locks. I crossed through the dining area and down the hall, then up the stairs toward my room. Halfway up the stairs, I heard the front door open and shut.
I wondered who was returning to the inn so late.
By the time I reached my room, I heard footsteps thunking up the stairs behind me.
Just because I am a curious bastard, I took my time unlocking my door, waiting to see who had arrived behind me.
The footsteps paused. Something scratched and skittered.
An animal?
I glanced over at the stairs.
Dessa slipped up the last few steps, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, large purse over the other, and a square, cloth-covered wire cage in one hand. She stopped. Waited for me to say something.
"Miss me already?" I asked.
"I don't know what you mean."
"I mean, you appear to be stalking me."
"No," she said, "I'm renting a room."
"Next to mine."
"Is it?" she asked with an air of innocence that fooled no one. "They said it was the only room that was open."
"Really."
"You aren't worried about me being here, are you, Shame? Afraid of a little girl next door?"
I smiled, leaned against the hall, and pointed at the cage she was carrying. "What's in the cage?"
"It's not a cage, it's a hatbox.
"With a cloth over it."
"I have shy hats."
"Come on, now. Let's have a see."
She shook her head. "My curtains don't rise just because some man expects them to. Ruins the mystery."
The hatbox scratched and skittered again.
"Bird? Gerbil? Lizard? Am I close?"
"Fedora, cloche, baseball. Hats." She walked down to the door on the left, flicked her keys forward into her fingers. She unlocked the door and leaned into the room.
This was an old inn and the doors were narrow. She had to slide in sideways, which meant the cloth over the cage lifted and I saw a tiny, furry black-and-white face, with close-set ears.
A ferret. She was smuggling a ferret into the inn.
"There's a no-pet rule, you know," I said.
"Oh?" she asked, unconcerned.
"Yes. So make sure your hats don't go for a stroll in the middle of the night."
She was in the room now, and had placed the cage on the floor. "I assure you, my hats are very well behaved." She shut the door, and I heard the slide and click of the locks setting.
Ferrets. I shook my head. Not what I'd expect out of an ex-government spy. But then, Dessa was proving to be a lot more than just a woman on a mission of revenge.
I smiled, stepped into my room, and closed the door behind me.
# Chapter 14
You know those soft, lazy kinds of mornings where you wake up, realize you are in a comfortable bed, buried beneath your favorite blanket, warm, relaxed, and don't have a worry in the world?
This was not like that.
A spear of ice slid into my chest, shocking me awake faster than a lightning bolt. I opened my eyes.
It was dark. Eleanor was sitting on my hips. Her eyes wide, panicked. Her hands had disappeared up to her wrists in my chest.
Jesus. I mean, I'd always assumed she'd try to kill me someday, but two things: it wasn't working, and it hurt.
"What?" I yelped. She was really agitated, and therefore, much more solid. I could feel the weight of her across my hips, like a vise of winter.
She shook her head and hurriedly twisted. I grunted as she pulled one, then the other hand out of my rib cage. She pointed over her shoulder. Toward the door.
No, not toward the door. Toward the man who stood there.
About six foot, built a little on the slim side, wearing dark slacks and a button-down shirt that was undone at the cuffs and away from his neck. His dusty brown hair stuck up, like he hadn't brushed it in a day or two, and his round wire-rimmed glasses caught the faint moonlight seeping in through the window.
It'd been a while since I'd seen him. About three years. Back before magic had been healed. Back before we knew if we were going to survive the apocalypse. He'd looked like a slightly crazy mad scientist magic user back then.
Hadn't changed much.
"Eli Collins," I said as I sat and put both my feet on the floor. "Really nice of you to stop by, my friend. I've been looking for you."
He hesitated there in the shadow for a moment, like a fly on the edge of a spider's web.
I waited, listening to his heartbeat. Elevated, but not fear. More like anticipation.
"Shamus." He took a step into the room. Moonlight slipped across him like an airport scanner. "You're alone?"
What did he expect, that I'd have Terric stashed in my closet? "Sure," I said. "I'm alone."
"Good," he said. "Very good."
He lifted his hand and in it was a gun.
Eleanor flew at him, flew through him. I raised my hand, the rings across my fist crackling with red light.
But I was too slow.
Bullets are faster than magic.
So are tranq guns.
The gun in his hand popped. The dart hit me right in the chest.
The sun exploded there and wrapped me in fire. I clenched my teeth and moaned against the pain.
Holy fuck, that hurt.
The drug and magic crawled through my veins, knotted my muscles, and locked me down hard.
I couldn't even blink.
Even the monster inside me was still. Knocked out cold.
This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.
Collins tipped his wrist, checked his watch, then looked back at me and pressed a button that beeped. Counting down the minutes?
"I don't have any time to waste," he said as he walked over to me. "No time for you to argue, or try to kill me. They'll pull me back into my cell in two minutes. Two minutes of freedom." He spread his arms and smiled.
He glanced around, found a chair, set it close enough I could see his eyes and the wildness within them, even in the dark. Then leaned forward, his arms across his knees.
"Did you get my message, Shame? Did you see it? On Joshua? My handiwork? Did Davy see it? I hope that he did. I couldn't have made it more obvious."
I moved my tongue, opened my mouth. "Fuck. You." Huh. Well, at least I could talk, though magic, and any other movement, was out of the question.
"So you saw him? What I did to him? How I killed him? Good." He checked his watch again. He was amped up, distracted. Not exactly what I liked to see in a psychopath.
"I am not on your side, on the side of the Authority," he clarified. "I do not care what the tattered remains of that powerless organization does. Nor am I on the side of the forces that are rising against the Authority. I am a prisoner." Here he paused, and swallowed as if just saying that word would bring the bars of his cage slamming shut around him.
"Prisoner," he repeated. "They have me locked down, except when they let me go for two minutes. Such a short time to do my work. To make my mark. To kill the way I like killing. You see the problem before you: you know they are looking for Breakers. Soul Complements," he said a little softer, as if those words meant something to him now.
Then, "They want the weapon, Shame. They want you. They want the magic only you can tap. No matter that there are ways, other ways to tap magic. Things you haven't seen. Things I have shown them are possible."
He waved his hand as if he'd argued this before.
"Costly. But effective. Ways I have shown them they can tap in to the power of magic." He seemed to catch himself. "Not that I will tell you. Even that—magic—is not the real problem. Do you know what the real problem is?" he asked.
"Just say it, freak," I managed. Talking hurt. My head was pounding spikes of pain through my brain with each hard heartbeat.
"The problem is a woman. You have met her. Dessa Leeds. She knows. Knows where I am. Knows what my chains are made of. They have her, Shame."
"Dessa?" He used to make sense. But now . . . maybe the madness had finally taken its toll.
"No, not Dessa. My soul. They have my soul." He pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. Sniffed hard, then wiped under each eye before replacing his glasses. "You have to save her. You're the only thing they can't fight, Shame. Death. And you crave it, don't you? You like killing just as much as I do. Find me and my prison. Save my soul. I've tried. Tried everything. You." Here he shook his head. "You're all I have left. If you stop them, all this will be over."
"And if I don't | 7,750 |
Il liceo statale Scipione Maffei (dal 1867 intitolato all'erudito veronese Scipione Maffei) è il primo liceo napoleonico istituito nel Veneto ed il più antico liceo d'Italia ancora in attività.
Si tratta di un liceo classico e linguistico situato nel centro storico di Verona. Il liceo è dotato di un museo di scienze biologiche, laboratori di fisica e chimica e una biblioteca con più di volumi. A commemorarne il bicentenario dalla fondazione come liceo convitto (1807-2007), l'Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato ha emesso per il 2007 un francobollo celebrativo.
Assieme al liceo scientifico Messedaglia (istituito nel 1923), costituisce la coppia dei licei storici di Verona. Dal 2015 la dirigenza è affidata al professor Roberto Fattore, già insegnante di lettere nel medesimo liceo.
<|fim_middle|> popolazione del liceo raddoppia e si arriva a più di 1000 studenti, di cui 400 sono ragazze. In tale periodo la riforma Gentile entra a pieno regime, e con essa anche il processo di fascistizzazione.
Le leggi razziali e il caso Bonaventura
Le leggi razziali si ripercuotono anche sulla vita del liceo, e, oltre al generale divieto di utilizzare libri di autori di razza ebraica, vi è anche l'allontanamento forzato di Corrado Bonaventura. Corrado Bonaventura è stato docente di Scienze presso il Maffei dal 1922 fino al 1938, anno in cui venne espulso dalla scuola a seguito delle famigerate leggi in quanto ebreo. Nel chiostro del liceo è posta una targa che lo ricorda, dedicatagli dalla sezione A degli anni 1936/1939.
La seconda guerra mondiale e il dopoguerra
Durante la seconda guerra mondiale la vita scolastica del liceo vede un periodo di crisi simile a quello della prima guerra mondiale: la situazione è incontrollabile e, anche a causa della guerra, è impossibile ricondurre la scuola ad una vita normale. Gli stessi alberi del Parco della memoria, piantati a ricordo dei Maffeiani caduti della prima guerra mondiale, vennero abbattuti per farne legna per il riscaldamento.
Terminata la guerra, il collegio docenti riprende l'attività scolastica escludendo dalle assemblee i docenti in attesa di giudizio per ragioni politiche. Lo stesso preside, Lamberto Chiarelli, viene sospeso per poi essere rinominato preside presso un istituto di Ferrara. Alla direzione della scuola viene posto il professor Aldo Pasoli che eserciterà il suo ruolo di preside fino alla morte, nel dicembre del 1961. Va ricordato che alla memoria del professor Aldo Pasoli è stata dedicata una scuola di Verona nel quartiere di Borgo Venezia.
Fra la fine della guerra e gli anni cinquanta il liceo cerca di tornare alla normalità, ma a causa di diversi problemi (fra tutti lo stato dell'edificio) che verrà ristrutturato soltanto negli anni sessanta. Questa ristrutturazione cambierà definitivamente il volto del liceo trasformandolo da scuola-convitto al definitivo liceo conosciuto oggi.
La biblioteca
La biblioteca del liceo Maffei risale all'epoca napoleonica, quando fu costituita con i volumi sequestrati con gli editti imperiali ai conventi. Tali opere sono ancora oggi conservate all'interno della biblioteca e ad esse si sono aggiunte nel passare del tempo altre 25.000 opere di ogni genere ed epoca. Sono presenti incunaboli, cinquecentine, seicentine, settecentine, il Fondo risalente alla fondazione, il Fondo risalente all'Unità d'Italia, il Fondo del Novecento e le ultime acquisizioni. Il tutto è suddiviso in tre compartimenti: Biblioteca storica (per i libri antecedenti il 1830), Biblioteca di conservazione (per i libri editi fra il 1830 e il 1950) e Biblioteca moderna (per i libri successivi il 1950), l'unica con disponibilità di prestito.
Nella biblioteca è inoltre presente l'archivio storico, contenente i documenti e registri scolastici, del periodo compreso fra il 1807 e il 1950, e l'archivio più recente, con documenti e registri risalenti al periodo compreso fra il 1950 ed oggi.
Le sedi
Il liceo Maffei è strutturato in due diverse sedi: la centrale in via Massalongo 4 e quella di via Venier 6.
Sede centrale
L'edificio della sede centrale, situato in pieno centro, ospita il liceo fin dalla sua fondazione nel 1807. Prima di questa data era un convento dei domenicani, la cui chiesa di pertinenza era proprio la prospiciente Sant'Anastasia. L'edificio negli anni sessanta del XX secolo, oramai obsoleto per le attività didattiche, fu quasi del tutto ricostruito da zero, assumendo la forma che ha tutt'oggi.
È nella sede centrale che si svolgono gran parte delle attività del liceo, tra cui convegni, concerti d'istituto, scuola di teatro, assemblee autogestite e giornate particolari, come il Giorno della Memoria. Inoltre la sede centrale è centro di particolare riferimento culturale e scientifico non solo per gli interni al liceo, ma anche per le persone non frequentanti o che non lavorano nella scuola.
Questa sede è riservata agli alunni degli ultimi tre anni dei diversi indirizzi del liceo classico e del Liceo Linguistico. La sede è anche dotata di palestra, campo da calcio, chiostro, laboratori multimediale e scientifico, aule di musica e di informatica e archivi storici.
Succursale di via Venier
Nella succursale di via Venier vi sono cortile con campo da adibire a pallacanestro, pallavolo o calcio, laboratori multimediale e scientifico, aule di musica e di informatica, aule speciali e una palestra.
Dagli inizi degli anni 2000, in Venier studiano gli alunni delle classi del ginnasio del liceo classico di tutti i potenziamenti e quelli dei primi due anni del liceo linguistico.
Ex succursali
Nella succursale di via Selinunte, ceduta nell'anno scolastico 2011/2012, studiavano gli alunni del liceo linguistico, con massimo quattro lingue straniere: inglese, francese, tedesco e spagnolo, trasferitisi poi nella sede centrale e in quella succursale di via Venier.
Fu utilizzata successivamente una nuova succursale in via Ca' di Cozzi 39, che conteneva cinque classi del ginnasio; essendo temporanea, essa fu però lasciata alla fine dell'anno 2012 e le classi ivi ospitate furono trasferite, dal gennaio del 2013, nella sede di via Venier, il cui seminterrato era stato ampliato per ospitarle.
Dall'inizio dell'anno scolastico 2016-2017, la sede di via Massalongo ha subito dei lavori di ristrutturazione a causa della precarietà e cattive condizioni che non potevano assicurare la sicurezza degli studenti; pertanto, per sopperire a tale situazione fu trovato un accordo e delle classi furono ospitate presso l'istituto "Cangrande". Terminati i lavori e con l'inaugurazione dell'anno scolastico 2018-2019, il disagio è rientrato e la scuola è tornata a utilizzare le proprie due sedi: la principale e quella di via Venier.
Onorificenze
Note
Voci correlate
Liceo scientifico statale Angelo Messedaglia
Liceo classico
Verona
Altri progetti
Collegamenti esterni
Maffei
Maffei
Maffei | Storia
Il periodo napoleonico
Il Liceo fu istituito il 18 dicembre 1804 con decreto dell'allora Repubblica Italiana napoleonica (ex Repubblica Cisalpina). Le lezioni ebbero inizio il 7 maggio 1805 presso le antiche scuole cittadine di San Sebastiano (ora Biblioteca Civica), già rette dai Gesuiti.
L'istituzione di un Liceo a Verona fu deliberata in considerazione delle "circostanze straordinarie e speciali" del Circondario dell'Adige, benché in deroga alla legge napoleonica del 4 settembre 1802 (la prima che introdusse i licei in Italia). All'epoca, infatti, la città di Verona (divisa fra la parte austriaca e la parte francese rispettivamente alla sinistra e alla destra del fiume Adige) non era capoluogo di Dipartimento e, pertanto, non avrebbe avuto diritto a un liceo.
Con l'annessione dell'intero Veneto al Regno Italico (dicembre 1805), Verona fu posta a capo del Dipartimento dell'Adige e il Liceo divenne "Dipartimentale".
Il successivo decreto vicereale del 14 marzo 1807, firmato da Eugenio Beauharnais, istituiva a Verona il Liceo Convitto che assorbì il precedente liceo (lo stesso decreto istituiva anche il Liceo Convitto di Venezia, ora liceo Foscarini). Il Liceo Convitto aprì i battenti nel febbraio 1808 nell'ex convento domenicano di Sant'Anastasia, nel sito dell'attuale liceo (l'edificio fu ristrutturato e ampliato, fra il 1808 e il 1814, sotto la direzione dell'architetto Bartolomeo Giuliari, e nuovamente ristrutturato e ammodernato, negli anni 1960-1963, su progetto dell'architetto Ettore Fagiuoli).
All'epoca della fondazione il ciclo di studi liceali era suddiviso in quattro anni di ginnasio e due anni di liceo. Nei primi quattro anni gli studenti apprendevano il latino, l'italiano, il francese, la retorica, la storia e la geografia oltre all'aritmetica, la calligrafia e il disegno; nel ciclo del liceo invece venivano insegnate la filosofia, la matematica (e in generale le materie scientifiche), le belle arti, il disegno o lo studio delle istituzioni civili.
Nel 1805 l'abate Giuseppe Zamboni, l'inventore della pila a secco, ottenendo il riconoscimento degli studi fatti nel campo della elettrologia, assunse l'incarico di professore di fisica sperimentale e matematica applicata.
Il periodo asburgico
Nel 1814, col passaggio della città in mani austriache, il piano di studi del liceo viene modificato e portato a otto anni: l'abolizione del francese e delle pratiche militari, imposte in epoca napoleonica, è compensata dall'insegnamento del tedesco, e dal rafforzamento della religione.
Nel periodo asburgico il liceo-convitto è visto come un luogo in cui istruire i sudditi dell'imperatore, sudditi che devono essere prima di ogni cosa fedeli e obbedienti alle leggi. Durante questo cambiamento di rotta viene allontanato dal corpo docente un noto professore di botanica, ritenuto compromesso col precedente regime napoleonico, il professor Ciro Pollini.
Nonostante la generale moderazione portata dalla dominazione asburgica, resta elevata la convinzione che l'obbedienza e la fedeltà verso l'imperatore siano i doveri principali degli studenti. Tali doveri si evincono da tre eventi: il primo, nel 1822, quando il liceo commissiona un quadro, in onore di Francesco I d'Austria, in cui l'imperatore venga raffigurato nell'atto di premiare gli studenti che si sono distinti negli studi, il secondo, nel 1838, quando il successore, Ferdinando I d'Austria, visita la scuola salutato da un'accoglienza calorosa, il terzo, nel 1857, quando l'imperatore Francesco Giuseppe I d'Asburgo esprime ufficialmente la sua soddisfazione per come è stato accolto.
Il periodo italiano
«Laus deo, Viva l'Italia» - così il registro del protocollo del liceo l'ottobre 1866, periodo in cui le truppe del Regno d'Italia entrano a Verona. I cambiamenti rispetto al precedente dominatore sono quasi esclusivamente formali, tanto che viene mantenuto lo stesso direttore, Giusto Grion, accusato però di essere un voltagabbana.
Nel liceo scompaiono le effigi degli imperatori austriaci e compaiono quelle di Vittorio Emanuele II d'Italia, inoltre viene cambiato il nome in "regio liceo Scipione Maffei". Uno dei cambiamenti sostanziali viene apportato alle pratiche religiose, tanto curate in epoca asburgica, che vengono improvvisamente ridotte fino alla scomparsa totale. L'abolizione delle pratiche religiose fa parte però di un processo più ampio di laicizzazione del liceo: il corpo docenti, composto quasi totalmente da ecclesiastici in epoca asburgica, verrà negli anni rimpiazzato con docenti laici. Contemporaneamente vengono ripristinati gli esercizi e le pratiche militari, così come in epoca napoleonica, che culminano con la "Legione Accademica", una piccola guarnigione formata da studenti del liceo. Sul piano culturale il liceo non cambia molto rispetto al periodo asburgico e resta una scuola severa oltre che molto selettiva, tuttavia il prestigio proprio della scuola viene intaccato dalla scarsità di mezzi a disposizione. Tale problema persistette a lungo, tanto che nel 1918 un'ispezione ministeriale accerta la necessità di un nuovo edificio.
Una grande innovazione arriva nel 1883 quando si diploma la prima studentessa del liceo: Fiorina Salvoni. Sul finire del XIX secolo il numero di studentesse è esiguo rispetto agli studenti maschi, ma già dalla prima metà del Novecento questo dato verrà gradualmente ribaltato insieme ad altri usi degli studenti: è infatti datato 1903 il primo sciopero, mentre risale al 1906 "Satanasso", un giornale studentesco.
Nell'ottobre 1903 un gruppo di studenti fondò un club calcistico e lo battezzò Associazione Calcio Hellas, oggi Hellas Verona Football Club, (per ricordare l'antica Ellade, ovvero l'odierna Grecia) su proposta del professor Decio Corubolo, per l'appunto insegnante di greco; primo presidente venne eletto il conte Fratta Pasini, con un fondo pari a 32 lire e colori sociali giallo e blu in richiamo al gonfalone della città.
Le celebrazioni per il primo centenario (1807-1907) vengono posticipate e l'evento verrà celebrato solo nel 1909: per tale ricorrenza l'allora preside della scuola Tullio Ronconi pubblica su Studi Maffeiani un saggio sulle origini del liceo.
La prima guerra mondiale
Durante il periodo antecedente l'entrata in guerra sia i docenti che gli studenti del liceo sono orientati sulla linea interventista, e molti partiranno volontari, proseguendo l'inclinazione patriottica che aveva caratterizzato il liceo a cavallo dei due secoli. Ma con l'inizio della guerra il liceo vive un momento di crisi: i docenti vanno incontro a difficoltà economiche a causa dei tagli degli stipendi, gli studenti diminuiscono drasticamente a causa della chiamata alle armi.
Circa ottanta non tornano del fronte e un professore, Enrico Sicher, muore il 14 novembre 1915 colpito da una scheggia durante i bombardamenti austriaci. A causa del conflitto la terza liceo dell'anno scolastico 1917/1918 è ridotta a soli 7 studenti. Tale sacrificio all'epoca fu ricordato realizzando un parco della memoria nell'area tra la scuola e l'Adige (oggi adibita a parcheggio) in cui ad ogni caduto fu dedicato un alberello ed è tutt'oggi ricordato nel chiostro del liceo da una targa commemorativa che elenca i nomi di tutti gli studenti caduti in guerra e da un ricordo marmoreo alla memoria del professore Enrico Sicher.
Il periodo fascista
Fra le prime riforme apportate dal regime fascista spicca quella dell'istruzione, riforma Gentile, che investe anche il ciclo scolastico ospitato nel liceo.
Nei primi anni venti la presenza femminile va aumentando, così come il numero generale di iscritti al liceo che si attesta a circa 500 unità. Nonostante la crescita degli iscritti la scuola resta ancora selettiva e severa: gli studenti indisciplinati vengono sottoposti ad interrogatori in cui sono trattati come veri e propri imputati.
Negli anni trenta la | 2,398 |
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More Inclusive Than Any Family
One of the English-speaking world's more popular modern Christmas traditions is the Service of Nine Lessons and Carols created exactly 100 years ago in 1918 at King's College, Cambridge. Famously, it begins with a single choirboy singing the 1st verse of the 19th century English hymn Once in David's Royal. The choir and eventually the whole congregation soon join in the singing. One of the verses seems to have been tailor-made for today's feast of the Holy Family:
And through all His wondrous childhood / He would honor and obey,
Love and watch the lowly Maiden, / In whose gentle arms He lay:
Christian children all must be / Mild, obedient, good as He.
Of course, today's feast is about more than reminding children to obey their parents. Nor is it about what may be the more contemporary version of the 4th commandment: parents obeying their children.
Like those Old Testament parents Hannah and Elkanah, about whom we heard in today's 1st reading, Luke's Gospel portrays a devout Jewish family, faithful to their religious obligations and obedient to God's Law, including the annual Passover pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Our modern "adolescence" not having been invented yet, Jesus in today's Gospel is now at an age when he must assume his adult responsibilities and obligations as a member of God's Chosen People, and so Jesus also accompanies his parents and their extended social network on the pilgrimage.
So this is really a "growing up" story as much as a "family" story – Jesus' first public acknowledgment of who he is and what his lifetime mission will be. Already anticipating his later behavior as an adult, Jesus here puts his priority on his relationship with his heavenly Father rather than with any earthly family. Hence, his mission is to be in his Father's house, rather than in the caravan among relatives and acquaintances. Likewise, the wonder experienced by the teachers in the Temple anticipates the wonder so many will soon experience at Jesus' teaching during his public life - and the wonder we continue to experience as we experience his continued life among us in his Church.
Like Hannah and Elkanah, Mary and Joseph had a son dedicated to the Lord, a son whose mission in life would take him – and his followers – far beyond the limits of natural human relationships. We can hear this in the contrasting uses of the word "Father," first in Mary's question and then in Jesus' surprising response. Through the Church, our new relationship with God in Jesus incorporates us<|fim_middle|> and modern two-parent, nuclear families, but there are also single-parent families, and "blended" families, and other complicated configurations, and there are more and more people with hardly any recognizable family at all. Less than half the adult population in the United States is married now, compared with more than three-quarters of the population half a century ago.
Then too, thanks to increasing economic inequality in our society, marriage is increasingly associated with those generally more economically and socially advantaged. All the more then is the Church challenged not only to advocate for sound public policies that benefit parents and children, but also to accompany individuals and families of all types, that are stressed in these various ways.
Just like the 12-year old Jesus in the Gospel, young people have their growing up stories to live and their life's mission to figure out. The challenges they face are personal and professional, private and public, environmental and economic, social and structural. But, however distinctive today's context, such challenges are not entirely unprecedented. The Good News of God's Kingdom offers the support of much needed communal solidarity with a long and strong tradition of moral and spiritual seriousness. Parishes in particular are challenged to instill in individuals and families a stronger sense of belonging to the larger human community that is the Church on earth.
The Jerusalem Temple to which Jesus, Mary, and Joseph went on pilgrimage, was the principal and privileged place where one would experience God's presence among his People. Likewise, what happens in the Church, in our uniquely privileged encounter with the Risen Lord in the Eucharist and in the community the Eucharist creates is intended to intrude into and transform everything else and all those day-to-day natural human relationships, including our families.
Homily for the feast of the Holy Family, Immaculate Conception Church, Knoxville, TN, December 30, 2018.
2018 - Year 2 of the Trump Drama
Mary, Queen of Scots (The Movie)
Breaking the Silence with the Word made Flesh
Our Lost Christmas Eve
Silent Night at 200
"The Challenge of Good Politics"
Isaac Hecker's Bicentennial begins
Fred I. Greenstein (1930-2018)
What Should We Do?
A Dutch Church Service That Doesn't End
"Lame Duck" Mischief
Thomas Merton - 50 Years Gone
A Voice from the Desert
Conceived without Sin
Bush Funeral Afterthoughts
Saint Nicholas Day
President George H.W. Bush | into a new network of relationships both wider and more inclusive than any natural human relationships – wider and more inclusive than any natural human family, wider and more inclusive than any caravan of relatives and acquaintances. As the Synod on the Family said three years ago, "Jesus made family relations relative in the context of the Kingdom of God." Jesus introduced what the Synod called a "revolution in affection," which represents "a radical call to universal brotherhood" [Synod 2015 Final Report, 41].
American Christianity, which is increasingly more about sentimentality than salvation, notoriously tends to focus a lot on family, forgetting perhaps that Jesus and the New Testament in general were much more focused on God's kingdom and showed relatively little interest in marriage and family life. At the same time, just like the 12-year old Jesus, we Christians continue to be involved in and dependent upon the social networks of human relationships, of which the family is one. The family, Pope Francis has reminded us, is "where we learn to live with others despite our differences and to belong to one another; it is also the place where parents pass on the faith to their children" [Evangelii Gaudium, 66].
In our modern world, however, the social functions and so the very forms of family are in flux, as are all communities and forms of social connection. There are still old-fashioned extended families | 289 |
People<|fim_middle|> growing industries in the UK. According to a recent report published by NESTA the creative industries grew by an average of six per cent each year compared to an average of three per cent for the economy as a whole. | involved in the creative industries of Shetland are invited to attend Lerwick Town Hall on Thursday April 17 for the launch of the 'Creative Industries in Shetland' study.
The study was commissioned by the Shetland Creative Industries Unit (SCIU) and carried out by consultants EKOS Limited to provide a more detailed understanding of the development of Shetland's creative economy.
The networking opportunity follows on from last August's successful event at Lerwick Town Hall when around 100 people involved in the creative industries met to explore the industry's potential to become one of the top five economic sectors in Shetland.
Brian McLaren of EKOS will present the findings on Thursday evening from 7pm and Gwilyn Gibbons, chair of the SCIU will highlight what the next stages are as a result of the report findings. The presentations will be followed by a networking opportunity for creative industry contacts and the agencies dedicated to this sector's development.
Since the late 1990s, the creative industries have continued to be one of the fastest | 217 |
If You're Determined to Use a Belly Putter...
Then at least I can help you minimize the trauma. Here's a recent video I found featuring former USGA Technical Director Frank Thomas, who doesn't like belly putters any more than I do but is willing to tell you how to get fitted correctly:
I like this video because Frank explains the "6 degrees of movement" that the belly putter minimizes. Please note that he also says that a belly putter is NOT a quick fix. It's going to take a lot of practice to overcome the loss of feel which those "6 degrees" allow. If you don't want to spend a lot of time practicing your putting, this is not the club for you.
And I'd like to add that you won't completely overcome the loss of feel, no matter how much you practice. If you'd like to know why, just take your driver or 3-wood and try to stroke some putts with it. You'll quickly discover that you can't hold the club with a relaxed grip and still keep it in your belly buttton. That relaxed grip is a major factor in developing feel.
By comparison, a belly putter is a strictly mechanical approach. If you choose this method, you are giving up on developing a natural feel for the stroke. If you want to do that, that's fine. But I have trouble understanding why any weekend golfer, who by definition doesn't have a lot of time to practice, would knowingly choose a putting method that not only takes more practice but virtually guarantees less feel.
But for those of you determined to use a belly putter, I found this video that demonstrates the technique:
The proper term for this is seppuku, a form of Japanese ritual suicide by disembowelment made popular (?) by samurai. Sort of like what you do to your putting by using a belly putter.
But at least now you'll do it with a properly-fitted one. ;-)
Oh, and if you're interested, Frank Thomas has a website called Frankly Golf at this link.
Labels: putting basics, teachers
A Few Thoughts on the Solheim Cup
So much has already been written about the Solheim Cup by the blogs listed in my sidebar -- and who knows who all else -- that I probably can't add much. Still, I have a few thoughts that I'd like to post, if for no other reason than to say, "hey, I said that!"
The depth in women's golf is improving. The European team didn't play anyone more than 4 sessions. The US team played only Creamer and Kerr all 5 rounds -- or would have if Kerr's wrist had held up. And guess what? The singles began with both sides tied and the outcome was in doubt until the last 20 or 30 minutes of play. That bodes well for the game.
The concept of the "work horse player" is dead. You get a higher quality of play when you don't run your best players in the ground and sit players who have potential. With the Euro team's success and the success of the US players who played no more than 4 sessions, I think this practice is just about over. Now if the men would just learn this lesson...
We may be seeing yet another changing of the guard. Caroline Hedwall, who I profiled last week, has already begun establishing herself as a force to be reckoned with. Apparently she's already picked up the nickname "the Viking Laura Davies." Ryann O'Toole, Vicky Hurst, Azahara Munoz, and Melissa Reid also had good showings. (Mel Reid's 1-3-0 record is misleading. She actually played very well.)
Don't misunderstand me -- the older players aren't done yet. It's just that the nature of the media is to look for the newest, hottest property. These players, along with Yani Tseng, are going to get the bulk of the attention. I'm afraid Morgan, Paula, and Jiyai are going to be cast as the veterans now. Heaven help Cristie Kerr and Suzann Pettersen, whom the media will soon be fitting for walkers!
Hedwall and O'Toole may become a great rivalry. I know not everyone agrees with me, but I think these two will become team leaders in the next few years. Both are strong mentally, which is the most important asset in this game. Hedwall has already crossed the biggest skill obstacles to success. O'Toole mainly needs to develop a good course strategy; once she does, she'll have a plan for improving her skills.
The "old girls" aren't washed up yet. Again, I suspect I'm in the minority. I think Laura Davies and Juli Inkster are just suffering from the "we have to change our games to compete" syndrome that kept the men from competing effectively against Tiger for so long. Catriona Matthew is still competitive despite being 42 and having 2 children in the past few years. But Catriona just goes out and plays her game, knowing that she won't be in the mix every tournament... but when she is, look out! She won the Aberdeen Ladies Scottish Open by 10 strokes earlier this year and smashed Paula Creamer 6&5 in horrible weather last week. If Davies and Inkster reach the same realization, they'll be able to hold their own as well.
Finally, I didn't think the matches "needed saving" but if they did before, they don't now. The European win certainly boosted the competitive nature of the matches and helped the current European rush of confidence, but it didn't change the matches as such. It's just that predicting gloom and doom for the women's game is popular right now. The LPGA and LET, as well as the other assorted tours, are probably in better shape than almost any other women's sport right now. When the Euro team beats the US team on US soil, then talk to me about a change in the matches.
Personally, I enjoyed the matches. I just hope the Presidents Cup will be as exciting.
Just a Few Thoughts...
About the news of the last couple of days.
First, the Presidents Cup picks were announced. In case you didn't hear, Greg Norman loaded up on Aussies who have fairly intimate knowledge of Royal Melbourne -- Robert Allenby and Aaron Baddeley. I think this caught a lot of people off Tuesday that he hoped that would happen. He also mentioned that he had spent nearly 30 minutes on the phone with Keegan Bradley and told him that he would take Steve Stricker's spot if Stricks ended up getting the shoulder surgery he's talked about.
Overall, these picks seem well thought-out on both sides. This should be an interesting meeting, especially given the losing record of the US in virtually every other current team event right now. That shouldn't make a difference, but you know how things can play on your mind...
The other thing is, of course, the announcement that Joe Lacava was leaving Dustin Johnson to caddie for Tiger Woods. Again, most of the conversations I've heard feel this is a good move for both Lacava and Tiger. Most of the debate has centered around speculation about whether Tiger treated DJ fairly in this deal.
I think this may be the wrong question. The better question is whether Lacava treated DJ fairly.
In a past post I mentioned a statement that Annika made on Morning Drive, in which she said that caddies are always looking for greener pastures. One thing which has not been emphasized much during these debates is the statement Lacava released that said he approached Tiger when the caddie job opened up. Although I haven't found the actual statement itself (I may be searching for it incorrectly), I did find this article from the Independent -- a UK site --that referenced Lacava's statement:
"LaCava confirmed he had instigated the appointment. 'I contacted Tiger... because this is a unique opportunity to be part of something very special,' he said. 'Tiger and I have been friends for a very long time, and I know what he can do.'"
This is definitely a case of a caddie simply leaving a player, not a player wooing a caddie away from another player.
And I'm not so surprised by this. Beyond a 4th at the Memorial, a T2 at the Open Championship, and the win at the rain-shortened Barclays, DJ has done no better than T23 since Lacava joined up with him. I'm not beating on DJ -- some of the problems have simply been a single bad shot hit at a key moment like that OB at the Open, and I've heard that he's working on some changes in his swing (aren't they all?) -- but you have to think Lacava expected more. The results just haven't been there.
Most everyone feels that DJ has more ability than Adam Scott, and you have to think Lacava believes he's a better caddie than Steve Williams, but there's no question that Scott made a quantum leap within a month of hiring Williams. (Again, I'm not crediting Williams with improving Scott's ability to strike the ball. But Adam's strategy on the course has definitely improved.) Lacava has to be disappointed in DJ's performance, and then Tiger had this convenient opening...
I'll be interested to see how DJ handles this. There are rumors that the two just didn't "click," which I suppose is to be expected after such a high-profile breakup. But if DJ didn't expect this, I have to wonder if he'll throw this off as easily as he did his major losses. Realizing you made some bad shots isn't the same as having a top-ranked caddie leave you for a struggling player, no matter how much of a superstar he is.
And of course it's pretty clear that neither Fred Couples nor Butch Harmon, who originally set up this deal, expected it. This should certainly make the Presidents Cup more interesting for more than the competition!
Stan Utley on Putting
Another quick putting tip from an expert besides me. ;-) This time it's Stan Utley.
That doesn't need much explanation, does it? Learn to relax when you putt and just let a stroke happen. Don't fuss too much over mechanics, since your mechanics will sort themselves out to a large degree.
In other words, learn to relax over your putts. That's why I stress the gravity stroke so much -- letting gravity do the majority of the work in your swing will almost force you to relax.
And if you don't tense up, it's virtually impossible to yip. You can't say that about a belly putter.
Labels: mindset, putting basics, teachers
The Limerick Summary: 2011 Tour Championship
Winner: Bill Haas
Around the wider world of golf: The European Solheim Cup "saved" the matches by snapping their 3-time losing streak and winning 15-13 over the USA; Kenneth Ferrie won the Austrian GolfOpen on the European Tour; and Ted Potter Jr. won the Nationwide's Soboda Golf Classic. Both the ET and Nationwide events were decided in playoffs... not unlike the PGA's premiere event.
So much for the Top 5 players at the Tour Championship "controlling their own destinies." Bill Haas was what, 25th place? It would appear that playing well makes up a lot for a poor starting position.
Bill got to do some showing off in the process. He beat Hunter Mahan in a 3-hole playoff by hitting a shot out of the water and making it spin -- something not even he knew could be done.
He got to show off for his family, who came to watch him play. He really impressed his dad, Champions Tour player Jay Haas, by bankrupting both the Tour and FedEx all in one day. I understand that Bill won more this week than Jay won in his entire career. I suspect Dad will be getting a piece of the pie to make up for college expenses and such.
And he got to show off for Fred Couples... and, in a way, his dad again. After all, this was Bill's only hope of impressing his way onto the Presidents Cup. I don't know if it's as done a deal as most folks think -- does making your way up through the ranks to win the Tour Championship and FedExCup offset Keegan Bradley's two wins, one of which was a major? That's a tough one. I'm glad it's Fred's choice and not mine.
But one choice I'd love to have is how to spend over $11.4 million. So today's Limerick Summary is a tribute to the man with the heavy burden of doing just that:
Ten mill's a career worth of money
To Bill's daddy Jay. Ain't that funny?
Forget rainy days—
Whether Billy's or Jay's—
There's enough to make all of them sunny!
The picture came from the home page at PGATOUR.com.
Is East Lake Really That Hard?
I don't get this. I don't get this at all.
Out of the 30 players who made it to the Tour Championship, only 17 are under par. Par is just 70 -- granted, that only gives these guys two par-5s to beat up -- but one of those is less than 500 yards long! And the course itself is listed on the Tour's website at a mere 7154 yards long. Have I missed something here?
Aren't these the guys that modern course designers claim need 7500+ yards just to make them break a sweat?
The leaders are averaging 3-under each day. Only 4 players average better than 2-under. And only 10 players average better than 1-under.
I repeat... Am I missing something here?
Maybe East Lake has gotten into their heads. Maybe the $10 million has gotten into their heads. Maybe they've gotten into their own heads. (I like Bubba Watson a lot, but he certainly acted like he did. How else do you follow a 64 with a 79?)
But I have a thought...
Is it possible that modern golf course designers have forgotten what really makes a course challenging? No doubt Rees Jones is being cursed for tricking East Lake up -- he seems to take the brunt of criticism lately -- but I understand that Jones merely restored the original course design.
A design from the mind of Donald Ross.
I'm a bit familiar with Ross. He designed Sedgefield Country Club in Greensboro (maybe 40 minutes from here) where they play the Wyndham Championship, and he designed Pinehurst #2 (maybe 2 hours from here) where the Tour plays a little major golf on occasion. ;-) Both of these are in the 7100-7300 yard range. And both are considered a bit of a challenge.
Maybe modern course designers should study these "short" Ross courses in more detail, maybe even try incorporating some of his design traits into their modern courses. And maybe the PGA Tour should consider including more Ross courses in their schedule.
After all, if East Lake is that hard, maybe the Tour's TPC overly-long designs are too easy to challenge the best players in the world.
Labels: course designers, general thoughts, mindset, tournaments
Maybe We Should Take Caroline Hedwall Seriously
Unless you keep up with the LET, you may not know who Caroline Hedwall is.
I suspect you will by the time the Solheim Cup is over. The 22-year-old Swedish rookie is 2-0-0 after her first day of competition. Since I want to keep this post short -- lots of golf on TV this weekend! -- I thought I'd give you a quick bio since I'm sure you'll be seeing more of her soon.
First of all, she lives in Löddeköpinge, Sweden. (I can't even say that and won't try. Sometimes I'm glad blogs are written, not spoken.) But like many European players, she went to school in America -- in Caroline's case, at Oklahoma State University.
Her amateur career is as impressive as any you'll see. Starting in Europe, she won:
2007 European Amateur Championship
2008 European Team Championship
2008 World Amateur Championship
At Oklahoma State she was:
2009 First-Team All-American
2009 Big 12 Player of the Year
2010 NCAA Individual Champion
2010 NGCA Player of the Year
2010 Golfstat Cup Winner
Then she turned pro and won the LET Q-School by 9 shots. And she's won five times so far in 2011:
ALPG New South Wales Open
LET Allianz Ladies Slovak Open
LET Finnair Masters
LET UNIQA Ladies Golf Open
And, although it's not an official win, she also won the PowerPlay Golf IGNITION Tournament. That was a mixed event, and she beat some folks like Gary Player, Ian Poulter, Paul Casey, and Paula Creamer. Not a bad showing for a rookie!
And now she's coming up big as a Captain's Pick at the Solheim Cup.
You might want to get used to her name. This week won't be the last time you hear it.
The photo is from LPGA.com and much of the info came from her Wikipedia page, simply because I'm in a hurry today!
Why Pitching Seems So Hard
Dexter did a post called The Dreaded 40-60 Pitch Shot about his problems learning to get the ball close from this distance. He included a video by PGA pro Brad Hauer that showed one way to do it. And it sounds simple when you watch it. So why do players have so much trouble with these shots?
It's because nobody agrees on how to do them. Just to give you an idea of what I mean, I'm going to show you a couple of other videos on the same topic. You'll notice that they not only disagree with each other, but they seem to disagree with the video Dexter posted as well! (Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging without some simple guidelines to help you.)
The first video comes from Australian PGA pro David Milne and it's part of his Pro Tour Golf College series.
Now here's somebody you may have heard of -- Phil Mickelson -- and he has an entirely different approach.
As I mentioned, neither of these videos say the same thing as the one Dexter found. And I'll let you in on a little secret... there are even more ways to approach this shot. Dave Pelz, for instance, teaches a system of pitch shots in his Short Game Bible that focuses on using different wedges with backswings of different lengths. Is it any wonder weekend players get confused?
Let's just focus on these three videos and find the commonalities between them. Believe it or not, there are several similar things that all three teachers are doing. In fact, the things I'm going to point out here won't be far off from what any method teaches.
First of all, Hauer is swinging on a much flatter plane than either Milne or Mickelson. That makes these swings look very different! Hauer's hands rarely get above his waist either before or after he hits ball. The other two are making much more upright swings, and that contributes to the apparent contradictions.
Then Phil says you should "accelerate" the shot, as opposed to the smoother rhythm the other two are teaching. Milne specifically seems to contradict this acceleration idea. This is a case where we have to ignore what the teachers say but pay attention to what they do. I'm going to point out two things that are the same in all three videos, although they don't describe them the same way.
Let's start with the Milne / Mickelson rhythm contradiction. What are they both saying NOT to do?
Milne says not to take the club back short and try to make a hard hit with a short finish. Mickelson says not to take it back long and slow down... which will cause you to have a short finish. Both finish with their hands higher at the finish than they were at the top of the backswing. And even flatter-swinging Hauer gets his hands to travel as far on his finish as he did on his backswing.
Lesson #1: Keep a smooth rhythm throughout your swing -- no speed-ups or slowdowns -- and make sure your finish is at least as long as your backswing. Wow, that's not so difficult, is it? It's something you can check pretty easily. And remember, if you have a flatter swing, your finish will be closer to the length of your backswing; with a more upright swing, your finish should be noticeably longer.
But how do you do that? Speed control can be a bit tricky, but if you know what you're looking for, you'll see that all three men are using the same technique for speed control. Did you notice that all three of them are making full shoulder turns, even though the swings are not as long as a full swing? We have a name for that move on this blog. All together now -- ONE-PIECE TAKEAWAY.
This is what Hauer is encouraging you to do with that glove drill of his. (And that glove drill specifically creates a flat swing, in case you didn't know. If you keep your upper arm "tight across your chest" as he suggests, it's inevitable.) But if you've paid any attention to my numerous posts about the OPT, you know that your lead elbow automatically points down toward the ground throughout the entire swing. And when it does that, your elbow stays close to your side as he suggests. There's a reason I keep covering the same few moves over and over, folks -- if you do those few basic moves correctly, a lot of other problems take care of themselves.
Lesson #2: Control the speed of your pitching motion with a one-piece takeaway. By using the big muscles of your upper body to swing the club rather than your arms, it's much easier to make a smooth rhythmic swing. If you make a sudden jerk on the downswing, you'll throw yourself off-balance and not hit the ball solidly. If you try to slow down as you hit the ball, it just feels uncomfortable.
Hauer's flatter swing is the most obvious use of the OPT. Mickelson and Milne appear to have more arm motion because their swings are more upright.. but that arm movement is vertical. They don't move their arms across their bodies as they make their swings. Watch the videos a few times and you'll see that their hands stay pretty much in front of their bodies all the way through the pitch, just as I try to get you to do on your full shots.
And finally...
Lesson #3: The length of the backswing depends on which wedge you're using. Milne and Mickelson both specify that they're using 60° lob wedges, and I suppose Hauer is doing the same. But you may find that you don't hit your lob wedge far enough for this pitch shot. If so, instead of trying to lengthen your backswing and make a longer swing, just go to a different wedge. I personally find my current 54° sand wedge is better for this shot; my lob wedge gives better results in the 30- to 40-yard range. A backswing that goes only to waist height and no higher will probably give you more consistent results.
Hopefully this post will help you get closer more often with those mid-length pitch shots. It doesn't take much practice at all to find the wedge / swing length combination that feels natural for this shot. And that's really the key to this shot -- find the combination that feels natural to you for this distance.
Then you can make your own video to confuse people. ;-)
Labels: mindset, pitching basics, players, teachers
Golf Around the Clock
In case you hadn't realized it, there is wall-to-wall golf this weekend! With the Solheim Cup being in Ireland, the live broadcasts start in the middle of the night here in America, plus we've got European Tour and PGA Tour coverage. The Champions Tour is off and the Nationwide isn't being covered this week.
Here is a link for a PDF listing all the golf on GC through 6pm Sunday evening. It's the easiest way to keep up with it all, but here's a bit to get you oriented until you can download it. All the times are for the East Coast of the US.
Morning Drive is on this morning (Thursday) from 7am-9am as usual. It won't be on Friday because of all the golf.
The European Tour's Austrian Golf Open airs from 9am-noon.
Golf Central will broadcast the Solheim Cup opening ceremonies from noon-1pm.
The PGA's Tour Championship airs live from 1pm-6pm. Golf Central airs from 6pm-7pm, then the Tour Championship re-airs from 7pm-midnight. Then you get two-and-a-half hours of repeats (although the first hour of Golf Central may be new).
At 2:30am Friday the Solheim Cup starts and runs straight through until 1pm Friday afternoon. That's ten-and-a-half straight hours of live coverage! Give them credit for this one, folks -- this is as thorough as any of the men's majors get.
The Tour Championship picks up again at 1pm Friday. You should have that TV schedule downloaded by then!
All-in-all, it looks like GC will have things covered extremely well this weekend:
27.5 hours of live coverage and some re-broadcasts of highlights from the Solheim Cup, as well as the opening and closing ceremonies
12.5 hours of live PGA coverage, plus GC and NBC re-broadcasts
11 hours of live ET coverage, plus a tape-delay of the 2nd round
For all the complaints we give them, they got it right this weekend. Way to go, GC!
Now if I can just figure out when to get some sleep...
Labels: tournaments
Dave Stockton... 'Nuff Said
Dave Stockton has been making the rounds on GC plugging his new book Unconscious Putting. So I'm going to give him a little space as well. Here's a clip he did for Champions Tour Learning Center a few years ago. Some advice never really changes:
A lot of what he says here echoes what I wrote in a post called Why Tiger Can't Putt a few months ago. If you use the "gravity swing" I talked about in that post (and in my book Ruthless Putting) you probably won't have problems with the back of your lead wrist breaking down either. That'll make it even simpler to putt than Dave says.
And Dave says it pretty simple, folks. If you won't listen to me, listen to him.
Labels: players, putting basics, teachers
The Problem with Lexi
What to do with Lexi -- that is the problem, isn't it? For most of us it's pretty simple. Let me sum it up for you, in case you've been living under a rock lately.
Lexi's only 16 -- she'll be 17 in February -- but she's already been given permission to qualify for the LPGA through Q-School. In the first round of Q-School she blitzed the field, winning by 10 shots. Sunday she won the Navistar LPGA Classic, which would make her eligible for instant Tour membership if she were 18. She made history by becoming the youngest woman to win an LPGA tournament by nearly 2 years. In doing so she beat each of the Top 5 in the Rolex Rankings by at least 12 shots. Her closest Top 10 competition was Stacy Lewis, who just made the #10 spot this week and had already remarked that the LPGA wasn't for players as young as Lexi. Lexi calmly beat her by 8 shots. (Stacy's comment was less tactful, so I won't repeat it. I wonder if she feels that way now.)
But Lexi didn't get her Tour card Sunday. Instead, a questionably-worded release seemed to indicate that Lexi had been granted permission to get her card via Q-School and that she would have to get it that way. Later statements have indicated that Michael Whan won't be that harsh and that he's awaiting a petition from Lexi to be granted Tour membership. But that just added fuel to the fire. She's already beat the LPGA's best, and it wasn't a squeaker either. Why shouldn't she get her card right now?
Lexi has stolen the thunder of both the Solheim Cup and the FedExCup, and she's even taken some headline space from the NFL. Not bad for a 16-year-old!
And that's the problem. Lexi's still only 16. That raises problems that, if they're not handled properly, the LPGA fears will backfire on them down the road.
In this New York Times article Whan spoke about those problems. Karen Crouse wrote that:
"Whan has made it clear he is philosophically opposed to youngsters forsaking their high school and college educations to pursue full time a sport in which athletes often continue improving into their 20s and 30s and even 40s."
She also notes his willingness to consider each player on a case-by-case basis, as evidenced by the Q-School ruling.
John Feinstein even seemed to agree with Whan to an extent, because he feels Whan is trying to protect Lexi from a "too much, too fast" situation. Michelle Wie is always quoted as the example here, but Feinstein does have a point. The public's hunger for the next big thing can put tremendous pressure on any player, let alone a 16-year-old. Whan certainly cares about that, as well as the possibility of "burnout" for an up-and-coming star who could really spark the LPGA's future.
Whan also has to consider possible backlash from players who might be, shall we say, less than welcoming to a young player like Lexi. While Stacy Lewis -- who is a self-admitted traditionalist -- may have only meant that the rules concerning age shouldn't be bent, there may be those who will be outright hostile to a hot young player who's going to make the competition tougher. Especially when the rules would have kept her off the Tour for another year or two.
And of course there's Whan's previously-mentioned desire to avoid setting a precedent. Lexi is an anomaly, the type of player who only comes along once every few years. Almost every young player who's been successful as an amateur is going to think that she is that player. When Whan and the LPGA have to tell those players that they aren't as good as they think, they're going to have a lot of angry players... and parents.
All of these things are surely playing into Michael Whan's decision. And I don't think he's having any difficulty at all with his decision. Rather, the difficulty comes in how that decision is publicly explained.
Personally, I think Lexi should get her card. She's old enough to have a driver's license -- which puts people's lives in her hands -- and to hold down a job, which is an adequate description of playing golf. Especially at the level Lexi plays! She's proven she can stand with the best -- she did, after all, win by a large margin. What more does she have to prove?
And I think Whan agrees with me. Bear in mind that he gave her the special permission to go to Q-School. I suspect he'll grant her petition for Tour membership but make her wait until 2012 to claim it. That's when she could have claimed a card won through Q-School, and it will put her only a year short of the normal age limit. He'll hope that minimizes the possible bad feelings and future petition problems from other young players.
Whan's decision is expected next week, after the Solheim Cup, although the word "decision" is questionable. I'm not sure he has any real choice. In fact, it's not even a real question. Not only does Lexi have a legitimate claim to LPGA membership, but the LPGA needs her. The real problem will be how the LPGA handles the consequences of the decision they almost have to make.
The picture came from this usatoday.com story.
The Limerick Summary: 2011 BMW Championship
Winner: Justin Rose
Around the wider world of golf: The big news came from the ladies this week as Lexi Thompson got her first LPGA win at the Navistar LPGA Classic and became the youngest person to win a multi-round event on any tour. But there was other golf news as well: The GB&I team overcame a scare from the Continental Europe team to win the Vivendi Seve Trophy; Jay Don Blake got his first Champions Tour win at the Songdo IBD Championship; Jason Kokrak got his first Nationwide Tour win at the Albertsons Boise Open; Melissa Reid won the Open de España Femenino on the LET for her third win; and Mayu Hattori won the Munsingwear Ladies Tokai Classic for her third JLPGA win.
Have you ever noticed how many "underachievers" seem to be winning on Tour these days? Forget the worldwide wins for a moment. Justin Rose has 3 PGA Tour wins -- and big wins, at that -- in the last 15 months. Maybe he hasn't played the way everybody expected... but wouldn't you love to underachieve as successfully?
Justin's swing has been the subject of scrutiny the last few days because he played so well Thursday -- he hit every fairway and all but two greens (appropriate at a tournament sponsored by BMW) -- and then his stats steadily worsened over the next few rounds. By Sunday he was hitting just a bit over 55% in both areas. This flaw has been blamed on Justin's "inconsistent rhythm." I suspect there's some truth to that. Poor rhythm certainly throws your swing out of whack.
I do find myself wondering what the players with consistent rhythm blame their sprayed shots on, though. ;-)
Look, I'm not going to defend nor attack Justin's swing today. There are plenty of commentators ready and willing to do so without my help. What I want to do is congratulate Justin on playing his way not just into the Tour Championship next week but into the Top 5. As you know, the Top 5 can win the FedExCup if they win the Tour Championship -- they won't need "help" from the other players in order to get that monstrously huge $10 mil payout. That's no small accomplishment.
Two other players who I think should get some special attention are Geoff Ogilvy, who both made the Big 30 and his Presidents Cup team (it's being played in Australia this time, you know), and the forgotten hero of the last month or so, Jason Dufner. Jason was pretty much written off after his runner-up finish at the PGA Championship; some said they would certainly give him a pass for the rest of this year, just to give him time to get over the loss. I guess it helps to hang around Vijay Singh a lot; Jason finished T6 this weekend to make it to East Lake. Yeah, Jason!
And in case you missed it, here are the Top 5 next week:
Luke Donald
These are the guys who can take it all with a win. In my mind, both Kuch and Donald are due.
But for now I'll just send out this long distance Limerick Summary to the driver who needed his crash helmet to get it across the line... but he managed to do it in one piece. Perhaps his mechanic can take a look at that timing problem before next week's race:
The ultimate driving machine
From Thursday would swerve and careen
While crossing the finish…
Though that won't diminish
His chance at a prize that's obscene.
The pic came from the front page of PGATOUR.com.
Jack's Way
Yeah, that's a play on the Nicklaus book Golf My Way. I found this clip from the old Nicklaus video of the same name:
The clip is pretty much self-explanatory, but I'd like to explain one thing. Jack says the ball position is the same for every shot, and you're probably wondering how that can be true. If you look closely at the split-screen showing his setup with the 4 different clubs, you'll realize that his stance width changes with each club. (In fact, he specifically mentions it.) And when his stance gets narrower, it has the effect of moving the ball back in his stance.
For example, if your stance is 24 inches wide and the ball is 4 inches back from the front, the ball is positioned 1/6 (4/24) of the way back in your stance. But if you narrow your stance to 20 inches for a shorter club and the ball is still 4 inches back, it's now 1/5 (4/20) of the way back. You can see how that works. Obviously, if you don't change your stance as much as Jack does when the club gets shorter, you'll need to actually move the ball back in your stance to get the same effect.
I keep saying golf is no harder than any other sport -- we just make it harder. Sounds like Jack agrees with me!
Labels: approach shot basics, full swing basics, players, pro swings, teachers
Can Lexi Seal the Deal?
In case you missed it, Taylor Leon barely missed the cut this week at the Navistar LPGA Classic. The gals at +2 made the cut and Taylor finished +3. She won't go home alone, though -- also at +3 were Cristie Kerr, Natalie Gulbis, and Christina Kim, among others. Jennifer Johnson made the cut easily at -6 (she shot +1 on Friday) and Sara Brown made the cut on the number to raise her record to 2 made cuts in a row. (And 2 made cuts for the year, but we won't get into that. As I said, she's played better on the LET.)
Lexi Thompson seems to have finally gotten her game in shape. Aside from the 10-stroke shellacking she gave 'em at the first stage of LPGA Qualifying, her play has been a mystery this year. But after a 66-68 opener with only 2 bogeys, we have to wonder if maybe she's gotten her mind clear about what she needs to do.
If that sounds like I'm questioning Lexi's ability, it's not intentional. But it seems to me that the slump in her game this year hasn't been so much a matter of mechanics as of focus. After getting permission to play in as many tournaments as she could Monday-qualify for, I wonder if she didn't put too much pressure on herself to perform. The goal ceased to be making a cut, which takes two rounds. Instead, it became getting into the tournament at all, which is a single-round effort.
And bear in mind that the "cut" in a qualifier may be as few as 2 players, although I suspect it's usually 4. Do that week after week, and it's enough to throw anybody's game off.
Have her attempts to play the FuZion Minor League Golf Tour taken some out of her? (That's a men's developmental tour in FL that plays 1-, 2-, and 3-day tournaments. The women play at 94% of the men's distance. You may recall that Lexi won one of these events back in February.) She played a lot early on this year, although I can't see how that would have hurt... unless she was frustrated that she played better in those events than in the big events. Bear in mind that she's played 10 events on the LET, ALPG, and LPGA Tours -- and missed 5 cuts, with her best finish a T19.
Did that blowout win at stage 1 of Q-School initially raise her expectations for her Tour play? It might explain why she struggled so much right afterward.
I just don't know what happened to Lexi this year. What I'm sure of is that something has now changed. Perhaps she's finally decided to focus on Q-School for her card and just play Tour events to help her prepare for the next stage. Maybe that's taken some of the pressure off her game. Again, I don't know.
But whatever has happened, I hope she keeps it up. If she does, she could very well be petitioning the LPGA for full membership after she wins this weekend.
This Time a Rookie Leads the Pack
Last week Taylor Leon made news by getting near the lead of the Walmart NW Arkansas Championship. (And for those of you keeping a Taylor Leon watch, she's at +1 -- T47 -- after the first round. That sounds good until you realize that +2 is T70. Taylor is right at the cut line. Get a move on, girl!) This week another new name is on the board... and this one's a rookie. Since you probably haven't heard much about her, I thought I'd give you the skinny on this week's headliner.
Jennifer Johnson is a member of the 2011 rookie class. She went to Arizona State University but she's only 20 years old, so you know she didn't go for long. ;-) However, her bio at the ASU site is fairly complete, and it paints a picture of a pretty well-rounded player.
She was named to Golf World's Mid-Season All-Freshman Team in 2009-2010.
She was runner-up at both the 2009 U.S. Women's Amateur and the 2010 NCAA Championship.
She played on the 2008 Junior Ryder Cup Team, the 2009 Junior Solheim Cup Team, and the 2010 Curtis Cup Team. In fact, she was 3-0-1 at the Curtis Cup and scored the winning point.
Although she's just a rookie and hasn't gotten much TV exposure -- let's face it, most rookie<|fim_middle|> cut and make up some ground in her efforts to keep her card.
For every player like Tseng and Lewis, there are a dozen Taylor Leons who never even get mentioned during a broadcast. Maybe she'll end up being the big story this week. After all, a win would secure her card as well.
Good luck, Taylor. Go low this week.
Just a Reminder...
The LPGA's Walmart NW Arkansas Championship starts today. This is big (to me, anyway) because there's been so little women's golf on TV this season... *sigh*
Anyway, there are some featured groups you might be interested in. The first few tee off early, so you'll have to check the live leaderboard at LPGA.com for them. The group with Paula Creamer, Brittany Lincicome, and Karrie Webb should be interesting. Likewise, Cristie Kerr, Ai Miyazato, and Morgan Pressel tee off shortly after them. Both groups could put up some good numbers early.
The featured pairings for the TV coverage window sound like fun as well. The biggest is probably Yani Tseng, Suzann Pettersen, and Ryann O'Toole. Not only will you have #1 and #2 in the Rolex Rankings together, but you've got a Solheim Cup rookie. O'Toole will not only have to deal with the big names, but she'll be mic'ed as well.
Another pairing is Michelle Wie, Sandra Gal, and Stacy Lewis. This is a hometown game for Lewis, and all three are part of the Solheim Cup teams.
Reilley Rankin, Jessica Korda, and Danielle Kang will probably also get some airtime since this is Kang's debut as a pro. She's the two-time defending U.S. Women's Amateur winner, in case you've forgotten.
GC will be airing the tournament from 3pm - 6pm today, Saturday, and Sunday. The ladies are benefiting from the lack of men's golf this week, so catch 'em while you can!
Putting from Off the Green
Today's post is very short. It's a tip from Ben Crenshaw that you may have missed even if you saw Champions Tour Learning Center on GC.
Like Nicklaus and Palmer, Crenshaw believes your worst putt will probably be better than your worst chip, so you should putt whenever you get the chance. Crenshaw said that you should putt from off the green as long as there aren't too many problems between you and the green, such as tall grass or an uneven surface. This is probably no different than anything else you've heard various teachers say.
However, Crenshaw mentioned something specific that I don't remember hearing very often. He drew special attention to the grain of the grass. If the grain of the grass is against you, putting may not be your best option.
Obviously it's not unusual for us to putt against the grain when we're on the green. However, the grass on the green is usually shorter, more uniform, and better groomed. When you're putting from off the green and conditions are therefore less than perfect, putting against the grain could become the determining factor in your decision.
He also recommended standing a little taller when you putt from off the green. Since you'll need to make a bigger swing, you want to leave as much room for your arms to swing as possible.
So next time you're putting from off the green, remember to check the direction of the grain. It could help you avoid leaving the putt short... or maybe hitting it too far past the hole.
Labels: players, putting basics
How to Hit That Ball Low
On School of Golf with Martin Hall on GC Tuesday night, he talked about hitting low shots. However, there are different types of low shots. This video by PGA teaching professional Kevin Battersby shows you the difference between hitting a low shot with an iron and with a driver.
Note that with the iron you hit down on the ball, but with the driver (and the ball on a tee) you want to hit up on the ball. We'll come back to this in a second.
One thing that Kevin didn't stress which Martin did is that, when using the iron, you'd like to keep the iron moving parallel to the ground for a while after you hit the ball if possible. This minimizes the lift created by backspin. Kevin hints at this when he talks about hitting the ground well ahead of the ball, but Martin expressed the concept a bit better.
You might wonder why there's a difference between how the irons and woods create a low shot. It's all about the shape of the face. While irons are flat, woods have rounded faces. The side-to-side curve is called bulge, and the top-to-bottom curve is called roll. Those "outward curves" in the face of a wood prevent them from putting as much backspin on the ball as the flat face of an iron does, which is why a hybrid -- which also has a flat face -- tends to hit the ball higher and stop it faster than a fairway wood does.
And that's the "low-down" on how to keep your shots low.
Labels: approach shot basics, full swing basics, pitching basics, punching basics, teachers
The Limerick Summary: 2011 Deutsche Bank Championship
Winner: Webb Simpson
Around the wider world of golf: Most players got their wins early so they could take Labor Day off... if they were playing, that is. The LPGA and Champions Tours were off last week. But Gary Christian got his first win at the Mylan Classic on the Nationwide Tour; Thomas Björn got his second win in as many weeks (his third this season) at the Omega European Masters; Caroline Hedwall won the UNIQA Ladies Open on the LET (that's her third win this season, not counting the PowerPlay Golf tournament); and Li-Ying Ye got her first win at the Golf5 Ladies on the JLPGA. (The Constructivist has the details here.)
Perhaps we should nickname Webb Simpson "the Prince," after Niccolò Machiavelli's best-known book, Il Principe (yes, that means "The Prince" in Italian). The book has long been considered a guide for those who seek to gain and hold power. It was once considered radical because it didn't shy away from bluntly saying that you may have to be ruthless and even act immorally to keep that power once you have it.
In fact, that's where we got the term "machiavellian." Old Nick became a bit of a pariah in his time because of that book.
No one would accuse Webb of being machiavellian -- at least, not in the traditional sense of the word. He called a penalty on himself earlier in the year which probably cost him a victory. And The Prince recommends that a ruler encourage religion in his followers while abstaining himself. Some of Webb's detractors have given him a hard time for his very obvious Christian faith. That's one of the reasons I chose the picture here -- Webb isn't afraid to 'fess up to his faith.
In any case, old Nick would not approve.
But I'm sure Nick would approve of what we've seen at the Wyndham and now at the Deutsche Bank -- Webb striding confidently down the fairways, mercilessly crushing any player in front of him on the leaderboard, winning gracefully... but winning decisively, nevertheless.
I've been less than complimentary of belly putters, and I'm not about to change my stance. All things being equal, a good feel putter will beat a mechanical player with a belly putter more times than not. BUT if you're going to be a mechanical putter, I'll certainly concede that the belly putter is the best way to do it -- better even than the broomstick. Webb has certainly proven he can wield one with authority (ah yes, Machiavelli was big on authority), using it to hand out beatdowns his opponents won't soon forget.
So Webb Simpson now enters the rarefied air of those Tour players with two wins and two runner-ups this season. Granted, he'll have to wait at least another few months for a major, but if he plays his cards right he just may pick up another victory, Player of the Year, and perhaps an extremely large bank account in the meantime.
It's good to be the king... or the prince, as the case may be.
So this week's Limerick Summary salutes the new monarch of the FedExCup playoffs. He's not committing hari kari with that putter shaft he's got stuck in his gut... but his opponents may wish he was:
Though Webb sticks a shaft in his belly,
It's clear that he's not full of jelly.
He rises to battle
And never gets rattled—
He's ruthless, like Nick Machiavelli!
The photo came from the front page of PGATOUR.com. Knowing how things change, it probably won't be there when you check later!
How the Great Dane Retrieves a Trophy
The Limerick Summary is delayed until Tuesday by the Monday finish on the PGA, so today I'm taking a quick look at the swing of a winner on another tour this weekend.
Thomas Björn won the Omega European Masters in Switzerland this weekend, his 3rd win of the season (only Luke Donald has matched him) and his 2nd win in as many weeks. Many years ago he picked up the nickname "the Great Dane" -- he's from Denmark -- and his career has been full of ups and downs. Through it all, despite a few years of poor play he has maintained the swing we're going to look at today.
And I meant it when I said "a quick look." There's very little footage of his swing posted at YouTube, and the video I'm including here is the only slo-mo I could find. But it's enough to show you what impresses me about his swing.
There is nothing particularly remarkable about Thomas's swing. In fact, that's exactly what I find so remarkable! Thomas is over 6' 2", a tall golfer even by today's standards, and yet his swing is so simple that anybody can copy it.
Although you can't see it from this angle, Thomas has a fairly classic swing a la Tom Watson. He takes the club back with quite a bit more hip turn and "left heel lift" than most players, then moves his hips toward the target to start his downswing. You don't even have to be very flexible to do that!
What makes his swing so great is its simple rhythm, There's no attempt to generate extra power by exaggerating his hip move, or by jerking the club down to start the swing. His swing generates power because its tempo is fairly quick, as you can tell from this video of his swing at full speed:
Watch the Great Dane's swing a few times and see if you can't pick up that smooth rhythm yourself. You may not retrieve any trophies, but you won't have to retrieve so many balls out of the woods either.
Labels: pro swings
Playing a Ball That's Under Water
After all the rain that's been dumped on us by hurricanes lately, you may have thought to yourself, "Hey, I wonder if I could play golf underwater?"
Ok, you probably haven't... but it's a good lead-in to this tip on playing a ball from a water hazard.
Normally the best course of action after dunking your ball is simply to take your penalty and get a decent lie. But sometimes there's no decent lie available, or maybe you really need to get a score on this hole. Under certain circumstances you just might be able to play from that hazard. The trick is knowing what kind of shots are playable.
Perhaps the most famous instance of this was Henrik Stenson's "underwear" shot during the 2009 WGC-CA Championship. I include this for two reasons:
Henrik explains the type of situation where playing this kind of shot might be a good gamble, and
I have numerous female readers who will certainly enjoy seeing this again. ;-)
This video by teaching pro John Hanrahan of the Fort Collins Country Club in Colorado covers the basics of the shot... and takes a dig at Stenson for good measure:
The real key here is the depth of the shot. If the top of the ball breaks the surface of the water, you have a decent chance of pulling this off. Hanrahan is playing out of a deeper lie. Note that he is in ankle-deep water; this is the outside limit for this kind of shot.
Why? Because when the ball is completely under water, its image is refracted by the water. That simply means that the ball isn't exactly where it appears to be. If you don't allow for that, you'll just drive it down into the mud. And, just as in a sand trap, you aren't allowed to touch the surface of the hazard with your club. You play it just like a sand shot.
Make sure you practice this shot before you attempt it during a round. It's not a high-percentage shot, and it's no fun getting messy if you leave it in the hazard.
Of course, if you're playing with the ladies, you have the right kind of body, and you don't have a rainsuit, they might not care. I'm not going there, though. ;-)
Labels: pitching basics, sand play basics, teachers
How Will Phil Putt Next?
It's all the buzz, isn't it? Phil Mickelson "dating" a belly putter. (In the highly unlikely event you haven't heard the saying in the last few days, here it is: "You don't marry a putter, you only date them.") In this case, it's a particularly "spicy" relationship since Phil's caddie Bones is on record saying that, if he could change one thing about the rules, he'd outlaw long putters.
I find this whole affair very sad. I know that a lot of young players are coming out on Tour having never used anything else. Using a long putter used to carry the stigma that you were in the throws of desperation, and supposedly these young guys are changing many players' viewpoint. But I'm not sure the stigma has lessened, no matter how many youngsters start using them.
In essence, no matter what reason you give, using a belly putter is an admission that you no longer believe you can putt. There's no question why Phil is trying one out -- he's developing a reputation for missing 3-footers and coughing up majors as a result.
Bobby Jones famously wrote,
"Anyone who hopes to reduce putting -- or any other department of the game of golf for that matter -- to an exact science, is in for a serious disappointment, and will only suffer from the attempt. It is wholly a matter of touch, the ability to gauge a slope accurately, and most important of all, the ability to concentrate on the problem at hand, that of getting the ball into the hole and nothing more." (Bobby Jones on Golf, p88)
The belly putter (and its brother, the "broomstick") is proof that Jones knew what he was talking about.
If anyone has approached this part of the game scientifically, it's Phil. He's enlisted the help of short game gurus Dave Pelz, who really is a rocket scientist (at least, he used to work at NASA), and Dave Stockton to help him reduce it to pure mechanics. I have a lot of respect for both men, and I've said more than once that I enjoy just reading Dave Pelz's Putting Bible because I always learn something from it.
But has this approach worked? No. And if I might point you to the Jones quote again, think about how many times Phil has blamed poor putting on problems with his concentration.
The main problem modern players face is rigid mechanics. Lower bodies are locked in place, arms and shoulders locked into a triangle that must never be altered, and players are told that the wrists must remain firm throughout the stroke and not "break down." Then they're told to stay relaxed and swing rhythmically! It ain't gonna happen, folks.
Add the debates over straight line strokes with no wrist action versus arc strokes with release moves, each side bolstering their arguments with high-tech research projects... it's no wonder players have forgotten the simple way they putted as kids. Presumably they made enough putts back then to qualify for the Tour and make millions of dollars, but that's no longer good enough.
Eventually the USGA and the R&A may outlaw the technique of "anchoring" that makes long putters so attractive to struggling players. I doubt that the putters themselves will be outlawed simply because the technique that Matt Kuchar and Michelle Wie are using -- letting the longer shaft just rest against their lead arm -- is much too close to a regular crosshand style. If they tried to outlaw such a long-accepted practice, they'd have a rebellion on their hands.
Even a broomstick can be used without anchoring the butt of the putter. People have been sweeping with regular brooms for eons, and the technique can work with long putters as well.
Personally, if it comes down to a putting contest between a belly putter and someone who remembers the nearly extinct art of putting, I'll put my money on the short stick. They'll probably win at least 7 out of 10 times. That's why I don't mind if the belly putter stays legal; I remember how to putt. The long putter will never allow you to putt with as much feel as a regular putter, no matter how much you practice.
Besides, I don't really want to spend hours practicing something so simple.
But when you're convinced that you can improve your golf by sticking a metal rod in your gut, you've got bigger problems than the yips. Do the phrases "crisis of confidence" or "paralysis of analysis" ring a bell?
The pic came from Dexter's post about Phil's experiment -- one of many such posts dotting the web this week -- over at Golf Tips & Quips.
Labels: general thoughts, players, putting basics, teachers
Getting Used to Flat Shoes Again
Yesterday I wrote about research I found that said overly-cushioned shoes could actually cause foot and leg problems. I decided to experiment and see if it was really true, since I've had some prolonged foot and leg pain.
But the articles I read said you can't just go back to flat shoes because the muscles in your feet must be given time to strengthen first. Otherwise you can end up with strained muscles in your feet. So I set out on a 3-month experiment, beginning in early June, to see if changing shoes would really make a difference. I'm posting it here in case any of you are interested in trying it, since I couldn't find any procedures to help me make the change.
To start with, I needed to figure out a plan of attack. While the articles I read gave me ideas, nobody seemed to know how to make the switch beyond "take it slow." Real helpful, huh? So I created my own two-pronged attack:
First, I started going barefoot (or sockfooted -- is that even a word?) around the house. That way I knew I would neither injure my feet nor end up having to walk if my feet got sore. This "step" was easy.
Second -- and more difficult -- I had to find a way to adjust my running. Buying new shoes wasn't an option at this point. Suppose they just made my feet hurt more? I decided to keep wearing my regular running shoes but change the way I ran.
This didn't take too long, but I had to study the video in my last post more closely. I decided the major changes running barefoot caused were (1) a shorter stride so I could (2) land more on the balls of my feet. Those were changes I could make without any expense or major changes to my regular routine.
I was surprised at how much of a difference these two changes made... and how quickly they became obvious. My typical running time was around 19:00 minutes. I walk part of the distance because there are some steep downhills involved, which are harder on your legs than flat land or uphills, and I have to walk some of the distance simply because I can't run the full distance yet. The foot and leg problems have made it hard for me to get back in shape... and I love to run.
I run 4 times a week -- Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, with a walking day on Wednesday to mix things up a bit. I had run an 18:42 time on Monday and started the new routine on Tuesday. That first time I ran about the same time -- 18:44 -- despite taking shorter steps. I attributed this to the steps being a bit faster (short steps take less time, right?) and being able to run a bit more of the distance since my legs didn't get quite as tired. I walked Wednesday as usual... and then things went crazy.
Thursday's time was 17:26, well over a minute faster than Tuesday. I thought it was just an anomaly, one of those "best time" days that happens occasionally. But then I ran 17:28 on Friday, so I decided to see what happened the next week.
Monday I ran 17:43, which was slower but still a minute faster than the Monday before... and then Tuesday I ran 16:39. This is over two minutes better in only one week... and then I noticed the weak left ankle was stronger. I won't go into detail, since it involves my shower after the run, but I found I could stand on my left foot alone without losing my balance. At this point I decided to splurge on the second stage of my program.
I bought a new pair of sneakers for wearing around all the time when I wasn't running. And since I wanted to eliminate any potential benefit from the sneakers, I went for the cheapest things I could find. I bought a pair of Faded Glory sneakers from Walmart; they cost about $12 a pair here, and they feel more like bedroom slippers than shoes because the soles are so thin. I kept running in my regular shoes, however, because I figured it would take longer to get where I could run in flats.
After three more days of runs around 17:20, my regular time dropped to around 17:00 minutes! I even had run a 16:46 time by the end of June. In case you've never followed a running program before, this kind of improvement is much more than you typically see. I decided to buy a second pair of cheap sneakers for running in, which I started using July 1st. It was an odd feeling -- despite having adjusted my running style, the first few steps in the sneakers felt like I was dropping into a hole. After the run my feet and legs didn't hurt but they were really tired. If you've ever had a "pump" after a workout, where your muscles feel warm and relaxed, you know how I felt afterward.
The next day I did some extra walking that turned into something I didn't expect. I walked for a half-hour, felt good, and decided to walk another half-hour... during which I ran into one of the neighborhood kids and ended up traipsing around for two hours that involved running and climbing in the woods! I was afraid I would be sore the next morning so I took a couple of Tylenol before bed, but had no problems.
The next week I ran a 16:04 -- I'd now beat my original best time when I started by 3 minutes in only 5 weeks. During the month my times were all over the place because some days my feet and legs were really tired and other days they felt really strong. By the end of the month I'd also run a 16:30, a 16:20, and a 16:15 time. I haven't been that fast in years.
In the last week I've beat that 16:04 best time 5 straight days -- my new best is 15:31. My weak left ankle is now as strong as my right ankle for the first time in about 5 years. I suppose part of my speed improvement could be due to the sneakers being lighter -- gosh, you don't realize how heavy running shoes are until you run in something light! -- except that I'm now able to run on pavement in these unpadded shoes without any pain. It often hurt me just to run in the grass before I started this little experiment, even wearing padded shoes.
The chiropractor friend I mentioned in the other post has told me that he never would have believed this if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. He says I'm running more easily than he's ever seen. That's certainly due to the increased strength in my lower body.
So that's how I got used to flats again. It took about two weeks of going barefoot around the house and shortening my walking and running stride in the regular shoes, followed by two weeks of walking only in the flats and running in the regular shoes to get my feet in good enough shape to leave the padded shoes entirely.
That's a month to switch over for casual use, and maybe another month to feel completely comfortable doing anything I wanted. And I didn't have to change anything else in my daily routine to get through the changeover. There are certainly worse ways to get rid of some foot and leg pain.
Again, I have to remind you that I'm not a doctor and I can't tell you what's right or wrong for you. But if you're interested in experimenting with less-padded footwear, this is the process that worked for me.
Labels: health info
Running Barefoot? Not Quite...
I've done a large number of posts on various aspects of fitness, many of which can be accessed from the Some Useful Post Series page. In fact, one of the most searched-for post series on this blog is my 100 Pushups in 7 Weeks series, which is also listed on that page. Although I have some definite ideas about fitness, I'm always open to exploring new workout info.
Now that I'm 53, I've become interested in exercises that may eliminate some of the aches and pains from past injuries. For example, if you read the pushup series, you know that a recurring shoulder injury finally kept me from finishing the program. I was in the process of hunting for a workout that might help me heal that once and for all -- I believe I found it, btw -- but got sidetracked by some info I found by accident. The heat prevented me from exploring both of these things at once, so I decided to try the accidental discovery first since it fit in with the running program I was already doing.
As a result, I've made some interesting discoveries about shoes.
I've spent the last three months experimenting with this info. I got it from John Sifferman, who is an NSCA certified personal trainer, among other things. He has a blog called Physical Living that touches on anything and everything about fitness. And while I was checking some of his posts I discovered one he did about running barefoot.
Before you ask... no, I haven't started running barefoot. But this post, The Definitive Guide for Going Barefoot, got my attention because of one simple YouTube video he included. It was made by the New Jersey Sports Medicine and Performance Center, and it was the basis for a Harvard Study. It shows the same runner on the same day, first running in regular running shoes, then running without shoes. The runner was given no other instructions.
The differences are amazing!
The implications of this video are important. If it's correct, then running shoes can actually cause foot and leg problems.
To make things short and sweet, all the padding in running shoes immobilizes the small muscles in your feet which are intended to absorb shock, so they get weak. The design of the shoes changes the way your feet hit the ground, and shocks are passed on through your body to parts that were never meant to deal with them.
And for me, this is critical information. See, I have several foot and leg injuries that have wrecked my exercise programs over the last several years:
My left ankle was injured in a freak Tae Kwon Do accident during a school tournament when both my and my opponent's protective padding slipped and I took a hard elbow straight into the soft tissue on the top of my foot. I was unable to play golf for 3 months because I couldn't roll to the outside of my foot during my finish.
My right heel was bruised so badly that I could barely put weight on it for over a year, which further weakened it to the point that I have been unable to run without at least occasional pain. This is by far the worst problem because I've had it for several years and the pain can come on when least expected.
I have occasional pain in the tendons on the outside of my right knee.
These injuries not only interfered with my running, they interfered with other workout routines as well.
You may have seen some of the funky "shoes" used by some barefoot runners, like the Vibram Five Fingers shoe pictured at left. Personally, I have no intention of spending a fortune for something like that, no matter how good it is. But some further reading (there are several other posts referenced in Sifferman's post) gave me an idea...
You see, since you can't go barefoot all the time, even the enthusiasts agree that so-called "minimal shoes" are a necessity. These are shoes that are as close to going barefoot as you can get while still looking somewhat normal. Again, a lot of these are still funky-looking, but I found at least one option I was very familiar with:
That's right, plain old canvas sneakers like I used to wear as a child. So I decided to experiment with them.
However, you can't just go straight back to "flats" like this. Oh, no. The little muscles in your feet have gotten too weak to handle the drastic change in shock absorption so quickly; you have to ease into wearing them. And that's how the 3-month program got started. I have a neighbor who's a chiropractor who was very interested in my little experiment, because he had come to the conclusion that sneakers were causing some problems he was seeing in his practice but couldn't figure out why.
And now it's been 3 months... and all the pain is gone. Well, I'm still having some stiffness in my right heel, which my chiropractor friend says is because the tendons are having to get stronger, which takes time, but I'm no longer having outright pain. Not only have my foot and leg problems vanished, some stiffness in my hips and lower back that I thought were just age have vanished as well. And as if that wasn't enough, my running times have decreased by 20-25% over that time -- an absolutely unheard-of rate of improvement that has impressed the chiropractor as well as me.
Look, I'm not throwing my padded shoes away. The hardcore barefooters will no doubt claim that our ancestors ran barefoot across rocky mountainsides with no problem... but I'll add that those ancestors never had to stand in one place on that rock 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, for years on end. Modern life offers challenges that they never had to deal with. For some of those challenges, padded shoes are a necessity.
But I've decided that they're not good for my everyday running and walking. I'm not a doctor, but I know that pain-free is generally better than pain! So I wanted to pass this on to you guys, just in case some of you are in the same shape I was and thought you had run out of options.
Tomorrow I'll give you the simple program I worked out to help me get used to less-padded shoes, and I'll update this post to add that post's link right here.
BTW... you do realize that Tiger's new golf shoes use this idea too, don't you? Now you know why.
The Limerick Summary: 2011 Walmart NW Arkansas Cha... | years aren't much to write home about -- it's still possible you've heard of Jennifer because she's been featured in Navistar's Wounded Warriors Project campaign.
As things stand, Jennifer is #9 on the Rolex Rookie of the Year list with 110 points. She's made just 6 out of 9 cuts this year, including 2 of the 3 majors she played in, and her best finish is a T12 at the CN Canadian Women's Open. Her 3 missed cuts came in the last 4 events -- the CN being her one made cut during that time -- and then she had the great showing Thursday. In fact, the LPGA lists her career low score as 67. They'll have to change that since her 65 yesterday is a new record!
She may not have her 2012 Tour card locked up yet, but Jennifer currently sits at #70 on the money list with $84,809 -- nearly $25,000 above that key #80 position. With the limited number of tournaments remaining this year, I think she's in pretty good shape.
But Jennifer will probably have her hands full this week. With Lexi Thompson only 1 stroke back and Yani Tseng just 3 behind her, she'll need that Women's Am and Curtis Cup experience!
The One-Piece Takeaway is Back!
A couple of weeks ago I did a post called How Will Phil Putt Next? after Phil Mickelson showed up at the Deutsche Bank Championship with a belly putter. Luke left a couple of comments, and the last one included a reference to a YouTube video about -- you guessed it! -- one-piece takeaways.
Why would Luke include that? It's because Paul Wilson, the teacher who made the video, uses a putting motion -- with a regular putter, not a belly putter ;-) -- to demonstrate the proper way to perform a one-piece takeaway. I thought it looked pretty good, so I'm passing it on to all of you:
Paul only focuses on the one-piece takeaway going back about two feet from the ball. As you know, I want you to do it back to waist high. That's because I don't just want you to make a one-piece takeaway, I want you to get your shoulders turned (or "coiled") early in the swing. Good things happen when you turn your shoulders early in the swing. Never forget that!
But Paul's video provides yet another way to get the feeling of starting back "in one piece," which means you'll start your backswing by turning your shoulders first. That's what I want you to do. I know I say it until you're all sick of hearing it, but turning your shoulders early will solve oh so many problems in your swing and increase your power and accuracy as well.
BTW, did I mention that you should start your backswing by turning your shoulders first? ;-)
Thus ends my weekly sermon on the virtues of the one-piece takeaway.
And thanks again to Luke for sending me the link.
Labels: approach shot basics, chipping basics, full swing basics, pitching basics, punching basics, putting basics, teachers
How a Yardstick Can Help Your Game
If you've breezed through any of the early posts in my Basic Principles of the Game category, you'll find that I have one principle that doesn't change whether you're putting, driving, or any kind of stroke in-between:
The clubface should remain square to the stroke path; the forearms should NOT rotate during the execution of the stroke.
As radical as that may sound, you'll find echoes of it in the works of many teachers who would probably deny teaching it. Hogan, for example, said that your forearms shouldn't consciously rotate during your swing. Another example is Brandel Chamblee, who is only one of the teachers you'll hear on GC telling you that you want your hands under the club at the top of the swing. (Think about it. If your hands are under the club at the top and you gripped the club with a neutral or only slightly strong grip -- as recommended -- your wrists have cocked pretty much straight up. That means you didn't rotate your forearms.)
The legendary teacher Bob Toski used a yardstick to teach how this feels, and it may help some of you who have trouble with twisting your forearms and laying the club off on your backswing. The drill is from Toski's book How to Feel a Real Golf Swing, and it's on pages 24-27 if you want to check out Toski's entire explanation. It helps correct problems from putting the grip too much in either your palms or your fingers. The photos are from this webpage at the U.S. Golf Schools and Travel site showing the drill. I've enlarged the pictures for easier viewing.
All you have to do is take two yardsticks (or one cut in half) and tape them together to stiffen and thicken them up. Toski says to take your grip by laying the sticks against the callouses at the base of your fingers on your lead hand (left hand for righties, right hand for lefties), then curl your fingers around the yardsticks. The sticks will slide up slightly into your palm. You can see this in the picture at right. Your lead thumb will be on top of or just creeping over the side of the yardsticks.
Once you've got your lead hand placed, it's a fairly simple matter to get your trailing hand in place. Note that your trailing thumb WON'T be on top of the yardsticks. Rather, it will hang over onto the target side.
You should try cocking your wrists up and down with this grip. Toski says it will probably feel weaker at address than than you're used to, but will actually feel stronger at impact. And if you've been holding the club too much in your palms, this will increase your wrist cock. That should add power to your swing.
Notice that the yardstick is under the heel of your lead palm. (Look at the top picture again.) This is where a lot of players get messed up with their grips. You want to get the same feeling when you grip your club.
And when you put your trailing hand on the club, the thumb of your lead hand should fit into the lifeline of your trailing hand. When you read this it sounds like your trailing hand will be on top of the club, but when you actually do it, your grip will be slightly strong. And when you swing, at impact it will feel as if you're "slapping" the ball with your trailing palm.
If you try making some swings and cocking your wrists straight up on the way back, it will help you keep the club "on plane." When you bend your trailing elbow during your backswing, that will cause enough "slant" to get the club on plane... but you'll feel as if your hands and forearms are in pretty much the same relative position they were at address. That will make it easier to return them to the ball squarely.
I know it sounds a bit strange, but it makes sense when you actually feel it.
The yardstick drill can help you develop a better grip with less forearm rotation. And that will help you hit longer, straighter shots.
Who's Number Two?
There's no question that Yani Tseng is Numero Uno in the women's game. (And no, I have no idea how to say "Number One" in Taiwanese. I just call her the Empress.) But nobody seems to agree on who the second-best women's player is.
Well, it looks like a battle is shaping up. Just as Yani has separated herself from the rest of the pack, two of the other ladies are also separating themselves from the rest. Here's the Top 5 according to the Rolex Rankings for September 12th, along with their current points average:
Yani Tseng, 16.63
Suzann Pettersen, 11.97
Cristie Kerr, 11.87
Na Yeon Choi, 9.16
Jiyai Shinn, 8.89
Na Yeon actually dropped .02 points this week and Jiyai will probably drop some more due to injury time. So it looks to be a battle between Suzann and Cristie.
In a text-in poll Morning Drive conducted Monday morning, Suzann was the popular choice. I have to admit that I don't understand that at all. It's not that I think Suzann isn't capable -- far from it. But for whatever reason, nobody seems to believe in Cristie.
Has no one noticed that Kerr has been in the Top 10 of the Rolex Rankings for 387 consecutive weeks? Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that over 7 years? Sounds to me like Cristie's got a bit more staying power than Suzann has had.
I'll grant you that Suzann has two LPGA wins this year while Cristie has none. (Suzann also has an LET win this year.) But Suzann was in that boat last year when Cristie had 2 LPGA wins -- 1 a major -- and Suzann had none. That does happen, after all. But last year we kept talking about how Suzann was right there, what with 11 Top5s, which proved she hadn't lost her game. How has Cristie done this year without a win?
So far, Cristie has 9 Top5s while Suzann only has 2. (I'm not counting Suzann's wins in that total, of course.) Like Suzann last year, Cristie is fighting her putter.
On this year's money list, Cristie's about $200,000 ahead of Suzann. As I said, Cristie missed one cut; beyond that, she has played one more tournament than Suzann. That $200k is nearly a winner's check, however.
In the majors, Suzann has 1 Top5 and Cristie has 2. Suzann and Cristie tied for 3rd at the LPGA Championship, then Cristie had a solo 3rd at the U.S. Women's Open. Suzann did make the cut in all 4 majors while Cristie missed one, but Cristie still finished ahead of Suzann at the British.
Granted, none of this proves Cristie will come out on top. The two are nearly the same age -- Cristie's about 3 1/2 years older -- but both are at that age normally considered to be a player's prime. Suzann does have a few more injuries to contend with, and that could pose a problem in the future.
But the general consensus is that Yani needs an American rival to really rev up the ratings... and whether people like it or not, it's not likely to be Paula Creamer, currently at #8 and over 9 points back, or Michelle Wie, who's at #12 and a point behind Paula.
You can say what you like, but I expect Cristie to get her putting sorted out soon enough. And when she does, I suspect she'll be the one to give Yani a run.
And then she might not be Number Two at all.
The Limerick Summary: 2011 Walmart NW Arkansas Championship
Winner: Yani Tseng
Around the wider world of golf: It wasn't a good week to be the favorite. The U.S. Walker Cup "Dream Team" got waxed by the GB&I Team 14-12; Simon Dyson took out both Rory McIlroy and Lee Westwood to claim his 3rd KLM Open, a feat previously accomplished only by Seve and Bernhard Langer; and Yuko Mitsuka beat Shanshan Feng at the Konica Minolta Cup, the 2nd JLPGA major of the year (the Constructivist has the details). Less of an upset but still quite impressive were Jade Schaeffer's win at the Raiffeisenbank Prague Golf Masters on the LET and Sydnee Michaels's win at the Price Chopper Tour Championship on the LPGA Futures Tour. This was the last tournament of the year for the Futures Tour, and the Top 10 on the money list -- which now includes Michaels -- get LPGA Tour cards next year.
And in case you're wondering: Taylor Leon finished T22 at -4. She picked up $20,541, which jumps her up to 96 on the money list -- about $20,000 behind that magic number 80. I'm guessing she'll need a Top 10 next week at Navistar to be sure she makes it. (Last year the 11th place player made $24,471, and since 80 apparently moved up about $4,000 this week... well, you do the math.) We'll have to keep a watch on her and see if she can pull it off. You go, Taylor!
Well, at least one favorite didn't disappoint this week.
Since the men took the week off, I had to decide which of the other tours to feature in this week's Limerick Summary. How could I not focus on the only player on any tour with 5 victories on her home tour and 8 worldwide wins?
Like most of the other favorites who didn't come through this week, Yani spent most of the day chasing the leader. Unlike them, Yani was tied for the lead when the day started (she seems to enjoy doing that.) but Amy Yang jumped out to a lead on the second hole. Then the other chasers made their runs -- Paula Creamer, Cristie Kerr, Belen Mozo, and Ai Miyazato -- but each came up just a bit short.
Yani finally caught Amy at the 16th hole, and pars on the 17th and 18th sent the pair to a playoff. While Yang is no inexperienced rookie -- she has 3 LET wins and finished Top 20 in all 4 majors this year -- this was her first playoff and it may have shown in her 2nd shot on the first playoff hole, the par-5 18th. To be blunt, she left herself dead with no way to get the ball close.
Of course, Yani birdied the first playoff hole. Did I really need to tell you?
Whatever your opinion may be of the women's game compared to the men's game, you can't question that Yani is the best of the women right now. She leads the stats in:
Number of birdies
Rounds under par
Rounds in the 60s
Top 10 finishes (tied with Kerr)
Scoring average (about 3/4 of a stroke ahead)
Number of victories
She also leads the money list. Not surprisingly, the weakest part of her game is putting (she's only 3rd in Putts per GIR). But when you play this well with the regularity she does, does it really matter?
So the men rightfully step aside this week to allow this lady to shine. The Limerick Summary simply reminds the other women that their chances to dethrone the Empress of the Tseng Dynasty this year are running out:
So Yani got win number eight
This year, and her fans think it's great.
But to all those behind her
It's just a reminder—
If they don't win soon, it's too late!
The photo came from this post at fresnobee.com.
The Dream Team's Nightmare
Saturday the U.S. Walker Cup Team discovered the downside of being a heavy favorite.
You see, sometimes your opponents don't get the memo!
After the GB&I Team jumped out to a 3-1 lead in the morning session, both teams split the afternoon matches. That means the favorites are down 7-5 going into today's matches, and there's bad weather coming in which could play into the hands of the "underdogs." With 14 points up for grabs -- 4 foursomes in the morning, 10 singles in the afternoon -- anything could happen now. Maybe 2 points isn't an overwhelming lead, but any lead helps when the weather turns on you.
The Walker Cup should be extremely interesting today. Potential upsets are almost always more interesting than runaway wins. After all, it takes two to make a race; otherwise it's just one runner out for a jog.
And while I'm talking about races, a couple of runners may make the LPGA event even more interesting than it already is:
Yesterday I did a post about Taylor Leon and her efforts to get her card for next year. As it happens, she played really well Saturday. She's still just 1 stroke off the lead of Yani Tseng and Amy Yang (who's also vying for her first LPGA win), now in 3rd place all alone.
And Sara Brown, the Big Breaker I've been watching since she got her cards for both the LPGA and LET, has missed the cut in all 8 tournaments she's played this year. (She's done fairly well on the LET.) Apparently 9 is the charm! Sara not only made the cut, she shot 6-under to put herself only 4 strokes off the lead. A good finish here might even secure her card for next year.
Both of these ladies will be playing during the broadcast window on GC. Keep an eye out for them!
So Who Is Taylor Leon?
The big attention getters at the LPGA event Friday were (as expected) World #1 Yani Tseng and local girl Stacy Lewis, both of whom are tied for the lead at -5. The putting struggles of Michelle Wie also snagged a considerable amount of airtime.
But the leader for most of the day was Taylor Leon. You can be forgiven if you didn't recognize the name. Let me give you a quick bio.
Taylor is 24 years old and spent 2 years at the University of Georgia before turning pro in 2007. She's got 2 wins on the LPGA Futures Tour. Her best score is a 65, and her best finish is a sixth -- ironically, at the 2009 edition of the very tournament she was leading Friday!
She's struggling this year. She's #111 on the LPGA Money List, and she has only this week and next week to earn her card by getting up to #80... which is currently about $35,300 dollars away. (That will probably change this week, of course. As it stands, that's about $15,000 more than she's earned so far this year.) She, like so many other players, has been a victim of the smaller playing schedule this year -- she's only played 8 events, and made only 4 cuts. Her best finish has been a T43 at the Wegmans LPGA Championship, the only major she was qualified to play in. (That must count for something, if only an emotional boost.)
And she shot a bogey-free 67 (-4) on Friday, which puts her one off the lead of the afore-mentioned Tseng and Lewis.
So why am I telling you this? Because Taylor will be playing during the GC broadcast window today. There's a decent chance you'll get to see her since they were talking about her situation Friday -- after all, she was leading for most of the day. It'll be interesting to see if she can make the | 4,075 |
El massís del Mont Cenis (en italià: Massiccio del Moncenisio ) és una serralada dels Alps occidentals a la frontera entre França (Departament de la Savoia - Regió d'Alvèrnia-Roine-Alps) i Itàlia (Província de Torí - Regió del Piemont). L'altitud màxima se situa al cim de la Pointe de Ronce de 3.612 msnm.
Geografia
Localització
Es tracta d'un antic plateau o depressió, actualment ocupat pel llac del Mont Cenis. És travessat pel coll del Mont Cenis (2.081 msnm).
Està compost principalment pel massís del Mont Cenis pròpiament dit, pel massís d'Ambin, pel massís del Sommeiller, i per l'Aiguille de Scolette.
El conjunt està envoltat pel massís de la Vanoise al nord, pels Alps de Graies al nord-est, pels Alps Cottis al sud, i pel massís dels Cerces al sud-oest.
El voreja el riu Arc al nord (vall de la Mauriena), la vall de Ribon al nord-est, la Bardonescha i la Dora Riparia (vall de Susa) al sud.
Principals cims
Pointe de Ronce, 3612 m, cota màxima
Aiguille de Scolette, 3505 m
Mont<|fim_middle|>e Nible, 3346 m
Pointe Sommeiller, 3332 m
Mont Giusalet, 3312 m
Costiera Bramanette, 3269 m
Cime du Vallonetto, 3217 m
Pointe de Paumont, 3171 m
Cime de Bard, 3168 m
Pointe Clairy (Signal du Petit Mont-Cenis), 3162 m
Cime du Grand Vallon, 3129 m
Cime Gardoria, 3137 m
Longe Côte, 3104 m
la Belle Plinier, 3086 m
Pointe Valfredda, 3051 m
Història
El 12 de juny de 1812, el doctor Balthazard Claraz va salvar la vida del papa Pius VII a l'hospici del Mont Cenis, durant el seu viatge secret de Savona à Fontainebleau.
El 1860, la Savoia fou annexionada (Tractat de Torí) per França convertint-se la zona en fronterera entre França i Itàlia.
El túnel ferroviari del Mont Cenis, iniciat el 1857, fou conclòs i inaugurat el 1871.
Un vast complex defensiu italià fou erigit entre 1877 i 1908: el Campo trincerato del Moncenisio El fort Varisello comanda el complex. A la banda francesa també hi ha diverses fortificacions. La zona fou escenari de combats durant la Segona Guerra Mundial.
Activitats
Estacions d'esports d'hivern
Bardonescha (Bardonecchia, Itàlia)
Bramans (esquí nòrdic)
Modane (Estació La Norma)
Termignon
Val Cenis Vanoise
Referències
Enllaços externs
Web oficial de Val Cenis
Web sobre el Mont Cenis
Geologia del Mont Cenis
Fotos del Mont Cenis
Divisions dels Alps
Geografia de la Savoia
Geografia del Piemont | Lamet, 3504 m
Roche Michel, 3423 m
Signal du Grand Mont-Cenis, 3377 m
Mont d'Ambin, 3378 m
Rognosa d'Étache, 3373 m
Dent d'Ambin, 3372 m
Pointe des Pignes, 3372 m
Pointe Ferrand, 3365 m
Point | 104 |
Hall of Fame 201<|fim_middle|>3, 2016
By Randy Miller | NJ Advance Media for NJ.com
Hall of Fame Inductee Mike Piazza answers questions during a press conference prior to Baseball Hall of Fame Parade of Legends on Saturday, July 23, 2016. (Gregory J. Fisher | USA TODAY Sports)
(Gregory Fisher)
NEW YORK -- Yankees manager Joe Girardi was asked what it was like to be behind the plate calling signals with the Mike Piazza, arguably greatest-hitting catcher ever, hitting.
"Not a lot of fun, I can tell you that," Girardi said with a wry smile Saturday before the Yankees-San Francisco Giants' game at Yankee Stadium.
Girardi has a great appreciation of Piazza, a Los Angeles Dodgers and Mets great who will be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame on Sunday in Cooperstown, N.Y.
Both were catchers and Girardi, aside from his four seasons as a Yankees catcher from 1996-99, was in the NL with Colorado and Chicago seeing a lot of Piazza.
"An extremely dangerous hitter, and not just a power hitter," Girardi said. "This was a high-average hitter that put on tough at-bats, took the ball the other way.
"He was just an extremely tough out. The amazing thing is he put up all those numbers as a catcher, such a physical grind. He was durable, he was tough and he was a force."
Girardi was catching when Piazza hit three of his 14 career grand slams, all three coming from 1993-94 in Rockies-Dodgers games.
"There was always a situation with the bases loaded for him and he doesn't miss it," Girardi said. "It seemed like he would rattle 'em in-between the bullpen and the stands in right field. They'd be going off the concrete back there. He was just an extremely tough out."
Randy Miller may be reached at rmiller@njadvancemedia.com. Follow him on Twitter @RandyJMiller. Find NJ.com on Facebook. | 6: Mets great Mike Piazza made big impression on Yankees' Joe Girardi
Updated Jan 16, 2019; Posted Jul 2 | 33 |
Anti-gun violence rally held in Nyack: Photos, video
Hundreds of people took park in an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack.
Anti-gun violence rally held in Nyack: Photos, video Hundreds of people took park in an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack. Check out this story on lohud.com: https://www.lohud.com/story/news/local/rockland/nyack/2019/08/18/anti-gun-violence-rally-nyack/2047709001/
Rockland/Westchester Journal News Published 6:53 p.m. ET Aug. 18, 2019
Hundreds of people took park in an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack today. Watch a video and scroll through photos from the event.
Hundreds attend anti-gun violence rally in Nyack
Claire Ortiz, 13, of Valley Cottage and Talia Reiss, 13, of Nyack were among several hundred people who took part in an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack Aug. 18, 2019. The rally was organized by New York chapters of Students and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America and follows mass shootings in Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Seth Harrison/The Journal News
Linda Schwartz of Suffern was among several hundred people who took part in an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack Aug. 18, 2019. The rally was organized by New York chapters of Students and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America and follows mass shootings in Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Seth Harrison/The Journal News
August Lockett, 6, holds a sign as he and hundreds took part in an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack Aug. 18, 2019. The rally was organized by New York chapters of Students and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America and follows mass shootings in Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Seth Harrison/The Journal News
Jayden Turner, 15, of Nyack, whose cousin Alyssa Ahladeff, 14, was among those killed in the 2018 mass shooting in Parkland, Florida, speaks during an anti-gun violence rally that she helped organize in Nyack Aug. 18, 2019. The rally was organized by New York chapters of Students and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America and follows mass shootings in Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Seth Harrison/The Journal News
People register their names before an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack Aug. 18, 2019. Hundreds took part in the rally, which was organized by New York chapters of Students and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America and follows mass shootings in Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Seth Harrison/The Journal News
Several hundred people took part in an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack Aug. 18, 2019. The rally was organized by New York chapters of Students and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America and follows mass shootings in Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Seth Harrison/The Journal News
Bill Howe of Old Tappan, N.J. stands with a sign on Main St. in Nyack as he and ]several hundred people took<|fim_middle|>2047709001/
Cortlandt residents speak out against plan for apartments, medical offices, hotel and more | part in an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack Aug. 18, 2019. The rally was organized by New York chapters of Students and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America and follows mass shootings in Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas. Seth Harrison/The Journal News
Rockland County legislator Harriett Cornell speaks as several hundred people attend an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack Aug. 18, 2019. The rally was organized by New York chapters of Students and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America and follows mass shootings in Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Seth Harrison/The Journal News
New York State Senator David Carlucci speaks as several hundred people attend an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack Aug. 18, 2019. The rally was organized by New York chapters of Students and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America and follows mass shootings in Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Seth Harrison/The Journal News
Lorrie Howe of Old Tappan, N.J. was among several hundred people who attended an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack Aug. 18, 2019. The rally was organized by New York chapters of Students and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America and follows mass shootings in Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Seth Harrison/The Journal News
James Marshall of Nyack was among several hundred people who attended an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack Aug. 18, 2019. The rally was organized by New York chapters of Students and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America and follows mass shootings in Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Seth Harrison/The Journal News
Pat Salcedo of Thiells was among several hundred people who attended an anti-gun violence rally in Nyack Aug. 18, 2019. The rally was organized by New York chapters of Students and Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America and follows mass shootings in Dayton, Ohio and El Paso, Texas. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Speakers at the rally demanded that the U.S. Senate reconvene to pass stronger background checks on all firearms sales. Seth Harrison/The Journal News
Read or Share this story: https://www.lohud.com/story/news/local/rockland/nyack/2019/08/18/anti-gun-violence-rally-nyack/ | 714 |
Chaddock Adds Mark D. Sikes to Roster of Signature Designers
Furniture World News
By Nic Ledoux on 8/8/2019
Chaddock Furniture Workroom, a full-service manufacturer of custom home furnishings, announced the addition of Mark D. Sikes as a signature designer.<|fim_middle|> all-American, California design—this partnership couldn't have been a better fit. I'm looking forward to the launch of my first collection at the Spring 2020 Market and even more excited to see how our partnership develops through the years."
An esteemed interior designer working on admired projects throughout the United States and around the world, Sikes is known for creating beautiful and timeless interiors that embody a mix of American and European, traditional and modern as well as new and old sensibilities. Sikes' work has been featured in Architectural Digest, Veranda, House Beautiful, the Wall Street Journal, Milieu and Domino, among others. His New York Times bestselling book, "Beautiful: All-American Decorating and Timeless Style," debuted in 2016.
For more information on Chaddock visit www.chaddockhome.com and for more information on Mark D. Sikes visit www.markdsikes.com.
About Chaddock Furniture Workroom: Chaddock Furniture Workroom offers a diverse portfolio of truly customized furniture, upholstery, cabinets, hardware and lighting that can be crafted in weeks—and will last for generations. Passionate about process, our talented artisans not only create high-quality heirloom furnishings, we collaborate with designers, architects and homeowners to help craft enduring personal stories. Nearly 90 percent of Chaddock products are designed and made to order in Morganton, N.C. For more information, visit www.chaddockhome.com.
Furniture Industry News and in depth magazine articles for the furniture retail, furniture manufacturers, and furniture distributors.
Read other articles by Nic Ledoux | Sikes joins veteran designers Mary McDonald and Larry Laslo as a Chaddock signature designer. Sikes' first furniture collection with Chaddock will debut at the Spring 2020 High Point Market.
"The decision to bring on a third signature designer was done with great consideration and intention. We have such strong partners in Mary and Larry, we knew that whoever joined them had to match their caliber of skill and character," said Andrew Crone, CEO of Chaddock. He added, "We couldn't be more excited to bring Mark into the family. Our shared appreciation for storytelling and American craftsmanship, along with joint expertise in customization is what will make this partnership a long and much valued one."
Sikes' debut furniture collection with Chaddock will include a variety of case goods, tables, chairs and upholstery pieces such as sofas and accent chairs. Each piece in the collection will focus on classic silhouettes that can be customized to seamlessly fit a variety of environments and styles.
"This partnership felt right from the beginning—since I first met with Andrew and the Chaddock team," said Sikes. "From how they approach customer service and artisan furniture makers to their customization capabilities and our commonality in classic | 240 |
from Northern Ireland -singer/songwriter/musician/ storyteller - all in one lovely character.
He sings songs - mostly his own. He writes songs - about life and love and the ways of the world. Some are whimsical, some are sad and some are very humorous indeed. In between he tells stories, some of which are true!
He plays quite a few instruments as well - guitar, banjo, mandolin, whistles, keyboards, and fiddle - he has even been known to wrestle a tune from the uilleann pipes.
These days the members of the "Family" still greatly enjoy getting together for special tours and festival appearances but are more likely to be found scattered far and wide, pursuing very successful solo careers.
Ben writes and performs with a natural ease and his songs are finding their way into many repertoires and recording studios.
To date, Ben has<|fim_middle|> his daughter Kellie on her wedding day.
Ben's most recent album, "Live in Berlin" was recorded at a concert there in March 2013. | released five solo albums, including the highly acclaimed "Take My Love WIth You", (Spring Records, 2010) - its title track was written for and sung to | 37 |
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Aug-2007 - Jul-<|fim_middle|> by everyone who is a friend to the United States of America. It is a dream that should be carried forward to generations and generations to come.
Cullen, J. (2003). The American dream: A short history of an idea that shaped a nation. New York: Oxford University Press. \
DeParle, J. (2004). American dream. New York: Viking.
Rank, M. R., Hirschl, T. A., & Foster, K. A. (2016). Chasing the American Dream: Understanding what shapes our fortunes. New York, NY: Oxford University Press.
Status NEW Posted 12 Jul 2017 08:07 AM My Price 10.00
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Category > Essay writing Posted 12 Jul 2017 My Price 10.00
American dream, writing assignment help
i am attaching the paper which is already done and could you please better incorporate conflict into the profile for this paper.
The American Dream (Surya story)
Basu Niroula
It is said that a child represent a true creation of nature; beautiful, unspoilt, and which, when given unreserved love and nourishment, has a capability of growing big and unfolding all its loveliness (Rank, et al., 2016). All children are born with a divine purpose of life whose aura has the power to hold all strength of a child and work on all weaknesses of that child in order to unleash all the potential. Childhood, therefore, represent the stepping stone of all Americans and all citizens of the world. Every one of us, whether a child or mature, has the aspect of a child in us which is our emotional self. This aspect of a child needs reassurance that all is well. It needs to be reassured that there is no reason of worrying and there are all opportunities for one to exploit. It only takes one to define the goals and purpose to achieve them. This is the ultimate goal of the American Dream.
The American Dream represent national beliefs of the United States of America. It is a set of values and principles which guides all Americans in their personal and public endeavors. Incorporated in the principles are the ideals of freedom which include giving all persons an opportunity to succeed in achieving their personal goals, an upward social mobility, and a culture of handwork. It also include reducing barriers of success to a bare minimum. A key element of the American dream focus on giving everyone an opportunity for success according to one's ability. Also a key element of the dream is an enabling system of government, effective and efficient infrastructure, established education system with the right of education to all children, among other social amenities. As Cullen (2003) notes, parents in the United States put their trust on the American dream in understanding the opportunities awaiting them and their children. Like any other parent, this is how much my Uncle Rabi relied on the American Dream when bringing up his only child Surya, who is my first cousin. It is through the provisions of this dream that Surya have been able to rise against all odds to become the director and the business owner.
Surya was born into a poor family in a rural Nepal to his parents Rabi and mother Holika who unfortunately died immediately she delivered Surya. It was so unfortunate the Surya was to be brought up by a single parent, his father. His grandparents had perished in a road accident five years before he was born and hence did not have the privilege of seeing them. This sorrowful happening before and at his birth put Surya at a rather hopeless situation, as he did not experience life like other children. His father was also not in a position to employ house girl or someone to help her bring up him Surya and hence used the help of my mother who is his sister. In this case, Surya and I have been brought up in the same family and hence we have always been close to each other. Although he is older than I am, he has been the brother I never had.
Surya has always wanted to be an actor since he was young. I remember one day during summer holiday telling me, "one day I will feature in internationally recognized movies." Acting has always been his dream; and yes he had all the qualities of an actor. He was intelligent, thoughtful yet so funny, especially in his comical way of expression. Though his father never wanted him to be an actor, he believed in the American dream in that every child should be given an opportunity to achieve his potential by using his talents and capabilities. His father also new that every child has a right to education so that the child can be able to make rightful decisions. In light of this knowledge, his father gave Surya a good foundation of education. He also brought him up according to the Hindu ways and thus Surya used to be a very admirable and respectful child all through. His father was very hopeful of him despite all the challenges he faced in bringing him up as a single parent.
In his nine grades, Surya was very confidence about his dreams of being an actor, he was also very hopeful of everything in life. First, he believed in the capability of his father who this far have proven to be caring, he also believed in my mother whom he knew as his mother too, and maybe unknowingly the calmness and wonderful opportunities set by the government of America. For instance, there were many theaters in the surrounding areas, many actors who acted as role models, peaceful political environment, a culture that treated all children equally among many other amenities and inspirations the society offered. To this, Surya had all opportunities and the roadmap to acting in his mind; he just waited for the right opportunity to arrive.
I remember words he used to repeat every time he felt discouraged that, "one day I will fly high above like an eagle and will forget that I used to crawl like a drunken man who doesn't remember the way home." When thinking about this words later in life, I realized how he felt about life; that though there are many challenges in this life, there was so much hope into the future. There was nothing to fear about but instead, one only needed to belief in his dreams. During a conversation when skating one afternoon, I asked him, "what makes you so assured about life?" which he answered strait to my eyes, "I don't know, just feel it." This I conquered with him. A key element of the American dream is to create an environment, which success and prosperity can thrive in. This is why Surya could not be able to explain but instead felt it. It is not about giving everything to the people but instead, it is about creating an environment that helps people in unleashing their potential. It is through this environment that Surya was able to build good foundations and step-by-step he was able to discover himself.
His father taught him to how to read at an early age something he perfected after joining school. At just three years of age, he could be able to recite Hindu verses in temple. My mother recounts how the priest used to turn to her and say in confirmation, "this child is gifted." So when Surya was a teenager, he could be able to mimic famous politicians and celebrities. He could also be able to behave like them when reading speech.
His education life was very exciting because, though he never schooled in high end institutions, he was very bright and always had good grades. He was also good co-curriculum activities especially in acting which used to be his passion. It is through affordable education for children that he was able to get education; otherwise his father was not in a position to pay school fees. After passing high school with very good grades, he gained a scholarship to one of the most prestigious universities in the country; Stanford University where he was able to study an entrepreneurship management course. The scholarships was as a result of American government program in trying to boost the American dream (DeParle, 2004). The program found it wise to fully sponsor bright but need children in pursuing their dream.
The scholarship opened Surya's door to his dreams. It is at this point that his life made a complete turnaround. All those hopes he used to feel when he was young started now to materialize one after the other. Stanford University is known for its expertise in building students future careers as well as helping them start from scratches into fulfillment. At Stanford University, he was able to combine together his talent, ambition and professional qualification. It is at the university that he was able to develop a business plan for his studio, which acted as the stepping-stone to his entrepreneurial goals. With the combined experience of performing many scripts both in the university and performance theaters at the hometown, he was able to start a small studio in India. That was the starting point of the Surya's music Theatre International; an organization with over 1200 employees.
The life of Surya, his personal life, professional achievements, and business success is a result of the American dream. It is as a result of giving opportunities to everyone that my cousin is the way he is today. He was able to support his family and now can live comfortably. His company has now employed many Indian, which is a great move in reducing the rate of unemployment in the country. The company has also supported many needy families through the company's corporate social responsibility. Therefore, American dream should be supported | 1,803 |
Thank you for praying for me during the Live at 9 interview. Mary Beth Conley and Alex Coleman are just simply so kind and worked to put me at ease before the interview. As you know, I get nervous when it is "off the cuff." I am better suited to hours of study before I speak, but the Lord gave me liberty and a sense of great peace! Now, for the funny part. Please check back tomorrow for a great tip on what-not-do-just-before-you-are-on-television!! Seriously. It will be worth your time and you can see pictures!
Baby Expo is today at the Agricenter. My buddy, Emily Rainey, is debuting her new photography business. She is using some pictures of Declan in her display so I just know you will want to stop what you are doing and rush right over. Take the family and stop by the Agricenter and speak to my friend and admire her work. The picture of Baby Love is one I took. I intended to post one of hers but my computer and I are having words this morning and it will not retrieve the picture she took that I told it too. So you will just have to look at mine and wonder just how many ways Emily could have done it better. Blessings.
When my boys were small my pastor called our home. Both boys lunged for the phone and a fight ensued for rights to answer the phone. After I wrangled the receiver away from the boys I tried to calmly say, "Hello." The deep pastoral voice of my beloved pastor, Dr. Adrian Rogers, responded. Humiliated, I could barely concentrate on what he was saying for plotting just what I was going to do to my children for embarrassing me!
Determined that God's Word holds all the answers for life's questions, I asked the Lord to show me how to resolve the escalading competition between my two boys. Some days later I came upon this verse in Proverbs. Proverbs 18:18 SAYS, "The cast lot puts an end to strife and decides between the mighty ones." This verse prompted me to come up with a system to end strife between my mighty pre-schoolers and we used it for years. We cast lots, so to speak. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday were Jason's days. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday were Dawson's and Sunday was the day we all practiced deferring to one another. If it was your day, you got to answer the phone, choose which color of cup you wanted, decide on which game to play, etc. without challenge. This immediately put an end to the constant wrangling and taught my boys to take turns, know their time to "be first" was coming. And that is what worked for me. For more Works for Me tips click here. Blessings.
On this holy day, we cele brate the Empty Tomb! Jesus Christ over- came death, hell and the grave by His re- surrection from<|fim_middle|>off the cuff" is not my strong suit. I am used to bringing a message that I have studied and prayed over for many many hours before I present it. I am not fast on my feet. We had prayed that I would have the mind of Christ and speak with the tongue of the learned, giving an apt word in right circumstances for the glory of the Lord. Who knew I would have a change to speak of the Lord Jesus Christ on T.V. It certainly was a God-thing. And we praise Him for it. Blessings.
I do love my new office and I must say, the words are flooding out of my fingers and onto my keyboard. Color-blocked no more!I got this gorgeous lateral file and a matching desk from the Barn-yes, that's right-the Barn. They have good stuff. And thanks to the lovely love-gift from my Moms I have matching office furniture for the first time in all my life. The lamp-a birthday gift from Ray-is also from...well, you know. My office was attic space and I just love all the funky angles it has. I just love to work in here. I am "shut up unto the Lord" in my little work area. If you were in lecture on Thursday you will understand when I say, "This is my "THERE." God meets me THERE. Blessings.
Well internets, I am sure you have been waiting to see the Big Reveal, and here it is. We painted (I helped this time) the office a milk chocolate brown. The drapes and the chocolate brown chairs (I have 2 in my office for ALL my guests) are from the Barn. Don't you know I love me the Barn! The cat-well he is my constant co-dependent companion, Joseph, who is a staple in my office. Frankly he is just grateful we are finally finished. With the exception of artwork, this room is done. Stay tuned, I have another picture. Thank you for all those who encouraged me to face down the color block issues and press on to this chocolaty yumminess! | the dead. And we glory in His grace! Oh glorious day! Hallelujah! What a Savior!
Our family celebrated Easter with a meal and a ball game. Congratulations to the UM Tigers, which sadly delayed my dinner. My mom, Patti, Declan, Jason, Daws, Roy and Ray helped Craig and I celebrate the goodness of the Lord. Kathryn had to work and was sorely missed! We ate together, cheered together, and played with the Sweet Prince-who performed all his tricks for us! It was altogether a glorious day. Blessings to all.
I am studying today to teach on the life of Elijah tomorrow at the Moms Ministry. I came across this quote, "The occupational hazard of Christian discipleship and ministry is discouragement" by John Stott. The author was trying to make sense of Elijah's dramatic spiral into depression following his Mount Carmel experience. Elijah was poured out and then he was burned out.
Burn out can sneak up on the best of us. When we are intent on serving the Lord and the body of Christ it is easy to become discouraged. Christian ministry is hard work and it can be disheartening at time. It is tough to find out you have run in vain when your investment in someone's life proves to be of no effect. Dr. Rogers used to say, "I have never gotten tired of the work, but I have gotten tired in the work." I think Elijah may have passed that point and gotten tired of the work. He was mentally tired, emotionally spent and spiritually drained. He was also alone (1 Kings 19:1ff). He took his eyes off Jesus for just a moment and the slide from the mountaintop to the pit happened in a split second. Pit dwelling is no place for a child of God. We were not designed to live in a pit; we are part of a Family; we are members of a Body.
As I read and studied I realized I felt very sorry for Elijah. Then suddenly it hit me. His lot in life could easily describe any mother on any day in any place in the word. Tired. Spent. Drained. Alone. Discouraged. Depressed. Sound familiar?
Elijah fell under a juniper and slept. That is what he needed. Sleep. Through his time of rest the Lord restored his soul. He woke. God had provided bread and water for him and an angel to serve it up. He ate. He drank and he slept some more. What am I saying? Nothing makes a day go more smoothly than a good nap! Get as much rest as you can.If you are burning the candle at both ends you will will eventually run out of wax! So rest. Take a nap. It can take the edge of your irritability, calms you frantic nerves, restore your soul, and renew your perspective. Now if you can work in some Bible study too, you will have the makings of a perfect day! Beloved, keep your eyes on Jesus and keep pressing on! Blessings.
I was with a group of young moms last night and I was reminded of a truth and prompted to share it with you. God is not just interested in seeing moms become godly woman for the (single goal) sake of raising children. True, while you are actively raising up your children you need to be very engaged and focused on your divine calling. But God's plans are greater and bigger than just training you to train up your children. He is in the business of grooming you into a godly woman to fulfill ALL of His calling on your life.
Don't misunderstand me. I believe mothering is the highest call on a woman's life. It is an awesome thing to be responsible for training up the next generation in righteousness and truth. But there is more. So much more. God has more for you to do, in His timing and in His plan, He has ordained good works for you to walk in that are outside the realm of mothering. So do not limit your thinking to becoming a godly mom just for the sake of raising children. You are to become a godly woman, prepare as a vessel for the Master's hand...whenever and whatever the assignment might be. Blessings.
If you have even the slightest inclination to pray for me, I would ask you to gear up. I will be on Live at 9 on WREG at 9:00 a.m. on March 31. I will be having a book signing at Barnes and Noble Wolfchase on April 5 from 2-4 (and I am shamelessly asking you to stop by-you do not have to buy anything but if you could really carry on about my Bible studies I would appreciate that!) and I am going to be interviewed about the book signing. I want to testify about the Lord Jesus Christ and how He has saved me from the miry pit of sin, put a new song in my heart, and called me to write Bible studies for mommies. I want to give a clear testimony for Jesus Christ. I need you to cast down the vain imaginations of fear and anxiety on my behalf because I will be quite consumed doing the same thing up until the moment I am finished. Oh...I need a new jacket to wear!
I will also have an article in the Commerical Appeal in the Faith and Values section. I beleive it will also be out on March 31. Please pray the content of the article will be well-pleasing to the Lord. Blessings.
Oh my heart. Who is that little man? This, my dear internets, is another shot my dear friend, Emily Rainey, captured of the Sweet Prince. She was able to get some of the sweetest pictures I have ever seen. And trust me. I have taken a ton of pictures of him but she managed to really catch some precious moments, shall we say? I am her biggest fan! She is going to be an exhibitor at the Baby Expo at the Agricenter. The date is Saturday, March 29 from 9am-3pm. Emily has donated a Free Session Fee as a door prize and will be handing out coupons for 50% off her session fee if you book a session for anytime in 2008 before June 1. I think many of you may be interested in attending this event and if you do...well, you must go by and see my friend. She is using some of Dec's pictures in her display. Tell her I sent you and do consider getting some great pictures of your kiddos or your whole family. You will not regret it. Blessings.
Since I posted a baby picture of Jas last week, I thought you might like to see Dawson-here at 4 months old. As we are watching Daws and Kathryn prepare for the arrival of their son on June 28, I have found myself wondering about who he will look like. Kathryn is very fair with blond hair. Dawson is very olive complexioned with dark brown hair. That is actually the same genetic mix that Craig and I had when we had Dawson. My side of the family won out with Dawson but lost out with Jason. Jason looked just like Craig and Daws looked just like me. My darling internets, I can close my eyes and put myself back in this moment but...it was 27 years ago. Please hear me. Time is fleeting. Whatever you are going to teach your children about the Lord, you need to be doing. Whatever you intend to do for the kingdom, you must be about. Time is fleeting. Do not let it pass you by. Blessings.
This is Ray and I with Janet Parshall and her husband, Craig. They have written a new novel called "Sons of Glory" and we got an autographed copy. We got to hear her speak at the Women in Christian media event and she is so powerful. I have heard her several times and honestly, she is a brilliant and passionate believer. I am so glad she is on "our side." She dearly loves the Lord, has a devotion to the Word of God, and knows the inside scoop on what is happening in Washington. She and her lawyer husband are especially engaged in guarding our Christian rights in the media. I was challenged by her message and stirred to be ever-vigilant to live a life that will matter in the kingdom of God. Blessings.
There are few women in my life that mean as much to my walk with the Lord as Kay Arthur. The first Bible study I attended after I got saved was on DVD with Kay Arthur on the Book of 1 John. Thanks to my friend, Gwen Hodges, I was invited to attend Kay's Bible study at a sister church. To say Kay is my hero in the faith is the understatement of the year. This weekend Ray and I attended The Christian Women in Media Conference in Nashville. In a room of just 50 other women, Kay was one of the keynote speakers. And I got to meet her. Yes, you heard me. I got to meet her and tell her, in my squeaky voice (I was so overcome with emotion that I could hardly breath-much less speak), that I learned to study the Bible from her and now I was teaching mommas how to love the Word of God...because of her. And her reply...Well she said, "Jean, keep teaching those mommas for me." Yes, Kay. I will. For you and for the love of the Father, I will. I will keep teaching those mommas until there is not breath in me. I will.
Who is That Little Boy?
So, who do you think Declan looks like? This is his daddy when Jason was about 18 months old. I cannot believe the resemblance! Every time I hold the Sweet Prince I can put myself back in the moment when my arms held Jason. The smell of baby sweetness, the plumb pink skin, the fair complexion, the pudgy hands, the snuggly body...it all moves my heart right back to the time when the man I have raised and released was just a little boy!
Dear internet mom, if you are bone tired and weary beyond words tonight, listen to me. The days in which you have been given to train up a child in the way he should go, are very few in relation to the number of years you will have an adult relationship with your child. Do not lose heart. Do not lose sight. So spend some time with your little ones. Snuggle and rock and sing and dance and cover your little one's face with kisses...these days are quickly passing by! Trust me. I know of where I speak.Press on with your eyes fixed on Jesus. Blessings.
I did not mean to give my heart to you. You are Craig's dog. And after all these years of tolerating all of our boys' pets and my love affair with cats of all kinds, it was Craig's turn. It was his turn to have a pet he could call his own. I never meant to love you like that. After all, I love cats. Cat people do not glibly give their hearts away to any other species-especially not critters of the canine kingdom, for heaven's sake. I did not mean to give my heart away. I don't really have time. I am frantically writing at my computer and my cat can sit on my lap and purr affectionately while I do so. Besides you are Craig's dog. So how did it happen? It may have something to do with when I sat down last night in Craig's chair. He was upstairs working late on a business proposal. You wandered over next to me and I scratched your head absentmindedly. You wiggled and waggled, enjoying the attention. Front paws were on my lap. A warm muzzle was close to my face. Hot puppy breath brushed my cheek. Back legged slipped up into the chair and you suddenly positioned your 45 pound self across my lap, tucking your velvety nose under my chin and breathing contentedly. Seriously, when did I give my heart to you? It was last night, I think.
The manuscript of Elijah has been shipped off to begin the publishing process. The book will be titled, "Fresh Fire"-The Secret Source of Strength. I loved writing this study on this OT character with a nature like ours (James 5:17). I am currently teaching this study at Moms on Thursday. I will begin the next study which will be on the Book of Ruth. I have taught this one before but due to the pressing publishing schedule, I am reworking a previous study in order to make my deadline. For those of you willing to pray for me, may I now engage you!
Sat. afternoon we got to keep the Sweet Prince for a couple of hours. He had been down earlier in the week with the stomach flu which spread to mom and dad before it moved on. We were thrilled to have some time with him since we had not gotten to get our hands on him for a few days. He was in his usual good mood and was quick to show us his new tricks. He is saying, ma-ma, da-da, and bye-bye. He is pulling up and standing. He loves to read books and turn the pages. His big blue eyes make my heart melt and run in my shoes. He is altogether irresistible and yummy! Blessings.
This was taken as soon as the interview was over. Note the relief on my face!Mary Beth and Alex could not have been more gracious. They did everything they could to put me at ease, but speaking " | 2,816 |
MCALESTER-The name may have changed, but the focus remains the same at CrossTimbers Children's Mission Adventure Camp-teaching children about Jesus and those who dedicate their lives to spreading the Gospel around the world.
The new camp, which combined the programs of Hudgens and Camp Nunny Cha-ha located adjacent to Falls Creek Baptist Conference Center near Davis, has had an "extremely successful" first year, according to Mark Jones, children's ministries specialist with the Baptist General Convention of Oklahoma.
Jones said attendance averaged 45 campers for the boys' and girls' weeks, while it was more than 150 during the other weeks. CrossTimbers caters to children who have completed the third grade through the sixth grade.
The camp not only got a new name, but its facilities also got a face lift during the past year, including remodeled cabins, new beds and mattresses, additional equipment and added programming.
Jones promoted the camp as well.
Jones said the missions aspect-as great as it has been in the past-was actually improved.
The missions education aspect<|fim_middle|> activities are not the normal basketball and soccer games, Jones said.
Add to that special activities every night, and there's not much chance for a child to get bored at camp.
As the first year draws to a close, Jones said, "It's been a great first year. I have the most incredible staff ever. It's just amazing how they work with the kids. Their energy level has remained high, and they care deeply about the kids understanding who Jesus is and how to walk with Him. That makes a huge difference. They have a great servant attitude.
Debra Stanley, who came to CrossTimbers from Oklahoma City, South Lindsay, agreed.
"I thought it was very good," she said. "It went really smooth. I had never been to Camp Hudgens, but one of our men who had been to Camp Hudgens every year thought the youth who worked as staffers were the best they had ever had. | of camp has included a 1/4-mile hike to an "African village," where campers help build a fire, grind coffee beans and brew a pot of coffee as Keith Badgett, Jones' ministry assistant, shares his experiences of serving in Africa.
"Keith talks about his trip to Africa and encourages the kids to pray for the missionaries there," Jones said.
Back at a missions center, Jones helps the campers cook an authentic dish from Bangladesh-rice pudding-along with chai tea, both of which they all get to taste. Jones also leads an interactive "Wheel of Fortune"-type game, which focuses on the Cooperative Program. Campers also have the chance to use a computer to visit Web sites of missionaries and learn more about them and the people groups they serve.
The camp schedule is a busy one.
Daytime | 168 |
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Flat income tax rate of 20% for those employed in Portugal in one of the pre-defined 'high-value' professions.
Portugal Golden Visa Program
What are the advantages of the Golden Visa? Created in 2012, the program allows foreign investors from non-EU countries to obtain a fully valid residency permit in Portugal and to apply for Portuguese citizenship after five years, among other benefits such as:
Enter Portugal without a special visa
Live and work in Portugal
Bring your family with you
Apply for permanent residency and/or Portuguese citizenship after five years
Access the Portuguese healthcare and education system (on the same basis as Portuguese citizens)
Travel freely in the entire Schengen Area
Looking for a property in Portugal?
Located in Cascais, Villas Maria Pia consists of 14 unique flats, divided between the Chalet and two modern buildings with swimming pool and spa, private parking and carefully distributed leisure areas.
View this propertyContact us for more
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Estoril, Portugal
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The concept of property used in Portugal is "full ownership" or "freehold"
High productivity levels
Clear tax rules
Ease of obtaining residence permits
Special tax regime for non-habitual residents
Inheritance tax revoked in this country
Attractiveness and quality of life
Taxation benefits
Portugal is ranked #56 among the 180 countries that comprise the 2020 Index of Economic Freedom and stands at #34 on the list of 141 countries that make up the 2019 World Economic Forum's Competitiveness Report. Why? Because, among the many benefits for foreign investors, as it follows, Portugal is a great place to live.
High Quality Lifestyle
Beautiful, diverse natural scenery
Cosmopolitan cities with cultural attractions and a high standard of restaurants, bars, nightlife and hotels
Very high level international and local schools
Excellent healthcare system
One of the safest countries in the world
International expat network
Healthy work life balance
Multitude of indoor and outdoor hobbies and pursuits to suit all individuals and families
Non | 228 |
Once again Welling United showed their never-say-die attitude to claim victory over fellow play-off hopefuls Bath City.
Thierry Audel returned from injury to replace Richard Orlu and Craig Braham-Barretrt came in for Caden Genovesi as Steve King rotated the squad.
Audel made an almost immediate impression by scoring in the second minute. Welling were presented with a free kick for a wild challenge on Brendan Kiernan that earned Jack Batten a lecture. Gavin McCallum delivered a deep free kick, Anthony Acheampong headed back and Audel hooked home.
Tom Smith fired well over from a long way out for Bath before Welling had their next dead-ball opportunity. McCallum delivered but Arnaud Mendy headed wide.
Sean Rigg scuffed a shot for Bath before Joe Raynes had an effort that Dan Wilks held well.
McCallum them had a shot saved after feeding onto a shot from Bradley Goldberg was blocked into his path.
Wilks made a good save from Freddie Hinds<|fim_middle|>. | before making an easier one from the soon player soon after.
Craig Braham-Barrett fired across the face of goal before Danny Mills somehow got a shot in that Ryan Clarke could only turn away.
Hinds had another shot saved comfortably by Wilks before Smith launched an effort into the park.
Andy Watkins brought a long cross down well early in the second half but Wilks saved his shot easily before Clarke made a good low save from McCallum.
Goldberg was next to be thwarted for Welling after good work by Mills however, just shy of the hour mark Bath levelled.
Kevin Amankwaah sent over a deep cross and Rigg lost his marker to power home a close range header.
King made a double change introducing Mo Bettamer and Julien Anau for Goldberg and McCallum and the latter instigated Welling's next chance when finding Kiernan on the left wing. He pulled back to Mills who spun well but shot well over.
Adam Mann shot just beyond the angle of bar and post from thirty yards before Welling created a great chance. Kiernan's clever flick was right into the path of Bettemar but he drove first time wide.
Wilks was called upon to make a full length save from Smith's drive towards the bottom corner.
That save proved vital as in Welling's next attack they scored the winner. Anau split the defence with a brilliant through ball. Mills controlled it with an exquisite first touch which allowed him to hold off his marker and with his next touch he slotted it beyond Clarke.
Having gone ahead late there was still time for Welling to have a scare. Wilks made a mess of a cross and it fell for Mann but a defender got across to block his shot up onto the crossbar and out.
The win leaves Welling five points behind second placed Woking and four points ahead of fourth placed Chelmsford City with four games remaining.
Welling United: Wilks, Ming, Braham-Barrett, Mendy, Audel, Acheampong, Kiernan, Ijaha, Mills (Rooney 90+), Goldberg (Bettamer 67), McCallum (Anau 67). Subs not used: Orlu, Genovesi | 461 |
SunClad™ Sliding Doors offer many of the same features and options as our in-swing and out-swing doors, but in a sliding door configurations. Sliding door operation can be selected as Left or Right active panel, as viewed from the exterior. Available as two panel units, three panel units (a two panel unit with Fixed single unit mulled to one side), or four panel units with two operating center panels.
SunClad™ Sliding Doors open by sliding the operating panel sideways. The operating panel can be ordered on the left or right side as viewed from the outside. A dual latch handle set secures the panel when it is closed. Smooth sliding action is achieved by the use of Truth Hardware all stainless steel tandem rollers with ball bearings which ride on a stainless<|fim_middle|> Involute handle set, which has the look of a classic "D" handle. This optional handle set is available at no additional cost. Sun also offers the upgrade Crest handle set in both large and small versions.
Upgrade handle sets & finishes available at additional cost.
Sliding doors have a fiberglass pulltruded sill with a stainless steel guide track that engages the tandem rollers in the operating panel. | steel guide track that is part of the fiberglass pulltruded sill. The rollers are side adjustable to fine tune the panel alignment and function.
Sun's Intuition handle set is standard on all sliding doors. Our Involute handle set is available as an option.
Truth Hardware all-stainless steel tandem rollers with ball bearings provide smooth sliding of the operating panel on the guide track.
An optional footbolt is available in white or bronze finish.
All Sun Sliding Doors come standard with our Intuition handle set. This contemporary handle offers intuitive latch release as you pull sideways to open the door panel. For a more traditional appearance, Sun offers the | 127 |
I really hope this stamp set makes into the next catty. The scallop oval punch is<|fim_middle|>1/4" circle, word window, scallop circle and scallop edge. | perfect for making clouds. I used some of the cut outs to sponge clouds and punched some out and sponged around the edges. For the fence I stamped the wagon then ran it through my big shot using a texture plate and it actually looks like wood.
I just realized I never posted the instructions for this quick and easy card box. Cut a piece of DSP 10" wide x 12" high. Score length wise @ 2" & 8". Score width wise @ 5" & 7". Cut the two horizontal score lines up to the vertical score lines and fold your box up to assemble. To make the flap, score a 6" x 6" piece of cardstock @ 1" & 3". Attach the 1" piece to the back of your card box.
Here's a sample I made with some old sale-a-bration paper. I cut the swirl shape on the lid free hand. I ran the lid through my big shot using the polk-a-dot texture plate before attaching it to the box.
1.To make this card Stamp the small flowers from the Embrace Life stamp set in Artichoke classic ink.
2. Colour the white flowers with a versamarker and emboss with clear.
3. I used the leaves from Flower Fancy, stamping the large leaves in Mellow Moss and the small leaves in Artichoke classic ink.
4. Get your Iredescent Ice embossing powder ready. Sponge Mellow Moss classic ink over the whole wreath. Wipe quickly with a tissue to clean off the white flowers then pour the embossing powder over your wreath while the ink is still wet.
5. The pink flowers were stamped on whisper white and coloured with Regal Rose ink and a blender pen. Cut the flowers out and adhere them to your card with pop dots.
Here's another punch art card. I couldn't resist adding the Little Mrs.
I used Many Mower and Doodle This stamp sets, my coluzzle and some punches; wide oval, large oval, scallop oval, hearts, 5 petal, boho blossoms, photo corners, 1 1/4" circle, word window, scallop circle and scallop edge.
I was working on some punch art and got a little side tracked. This would be a good time to thank Stampin' Up for not selling a punch that resembles a speedo.
I used the Enjoy Every Moment stamp set, my coluzzle and some punches; wide oval, photo corners, 1 | 521 |
The transformer power of language. Use it for the best version of you.
Language helps us to express feelings, desires, expectations, … so many things as we have been reading. The way we use verb tenses conditions a lot how do we face challenges in life. It also exposes our attitude towards difficulties and changes (do we let it just happen? do we act? do we have fear?).
I should…: You are aware that something needs to be done<|fim_middle|>, letting things happening around you, to you, and doing nothing (I should, I could…). In the end, by allowing yourself to be unhappy an bored days may seem to pass really slow but it is the other way around. Move, try, progress (start using I will, I am…).
If you are on the I should, I would… move to I want to, I will, I am. Transform your language, transform your attitude. | , action taken,… but you are postponing the action.
I want to… : Implies desire, the initiative to start a change, to become something different.
I will…: Shows a clear intention. It implies that we have defined a target.
I have planned to: You already have something in mind, there is plan and an execution on its way.
I am -ing…: Already on the move, towards a final destination.
When the time to look back finally arrives, you should say, I made it: You walked all the way and you succeed. You arrived after all the efforts and sacrifices.
And you should not have to say, I should have…: You regret a decision or a non-decision making. At some point, there was something you didn't risk trying. This should not happen.Time flies.
Any decision you make needs to be thoughtful. When you are in doubt, choosing between two roads you will discuss a lot with yourself. Eventually you will go for one and you will get, learn, earn some things yet leaving other things.
You can not spend your life stuck, complaining | 225 |
As part of their partnership, MemberClicks will host a variety of initiatives for the association community including: the Small-Staff Lounge at ASAE's Annual Meeting & Exposition and the Online Conference for Small-Staff Associations.
The Alliance Partnership Program offers industry partners the opportunity to help build and maintain year-round relationships with AS<|fim_middle|> websites to online membership management and event registration, MemberClicks empowers organizations to save time and sanity. Found in 1998, MemberClicks works with more than 1,400 organizations throughout North America. For more information, visit www.memberclicks.com or call 1-800-914-2441. | AE members and the association community across the nation.
For more information about the ASAE Alliance Partnership Program, please visit asaecenter.org/Partnership or contact Dan Melesurgo at [email protected].
MEDIA CONTACT: Sabrina Kidwai, APR, CAE, [email protected], 202-326-9505 or Adam Kearney, VP Marketing at MemberClicks, [email protected], 404-879-2819.
MemberClicks provides refreshing technology solutions to small-staff membership organizations. From public and members-only | 123 |
Young Man Invites Elderly Widow to Dinner after Noticing Her Alone in Restaurant: 'It Was a God Thing'
By Brittany
https://news.amomama.com/285208-young-man-invites-elderly-widow-dinner-n.html
When a young man saw an elderly woman eating alone, he approached her and asked her if she wanted company. The special encounter meant a lot to her and went viral online.
In 2019, Brad's Bar-B-Que in Oxford, Alabama, was the venue where an unlikely friendship began. When 80-year-old widower Eleanor Baker went to have dinner, something unexpected happened.
It was the day before what would have been her 60th marriage anniversary, and she was eating alone. However, a group of young men entered the establishment, and one noticed her. He hated seeing her alone.
A widow who was eating alone the day before her marriage anniversary [left] Elderly woman eats with a group of caring youngsters [right]<|fim_middle|> Baker was happy to have their company, she also made their night.
Knight said: "'Cause when we left there, that's all we talked about." Howard shared that he always dreamed of changing the world. He just didn't know what to do.
Howard stated: "I'm not rich. I'm not famous. And I'm not very smart either, so I can't be president." However, he did find a way to make a difference — by taking the time to care for the people around him.
Netizens thanked the men for their caring gesture and commended them for making a difference in the woman's life. One user wrote: "With all the ugliness in the world, you and your friends gave it a little beauty."
Elderly Couple Divorces after 53 Years of Marriage, Later Man Sees Ex-wife Dating in Cafe — Story of the Day
Rich Man Meets Poor Cleaner Who Has the Same Birthmark as His — Story of the Day
Homeless Man Offers Rich Woman His Last $7 Because She Was in Need — Story of the Day
THE ONLINE REACTION
Some also applauded Howard's parents for how they raised him. A commenter said: "No parent could be any prouder than yours must be." They called him an angel and wished him well.
Another user added: "Jamario (and friends), what a wonderful deed you all did for this woman. What goes around comes around, and this kindness will be shown to you all. Bless you!" Undoubtedly, their gesture changed the elderly woman's life, but it also changed theirs.
Mom Leaves Baby Girl with Vietnam Veteran Babysitter and Never Returns
'Law & Order's' Sam Waterston & Model Wife's Love Story Started on a Blind Date More than 46 Years Ago
Stewardess Breaks the Rules to Talk Some Sense into Raging Son of a Millionaire during a Flight – Story of the Day | | Photo: youtube.com/CBS Evening News
THEY STRUCK UP A CONVERSATION
Instead of pushing her to the back of his mind, he decided to take action. Jamario Howard went up to her table and asked her if she minded having some company. To which Baker replied: "Go right ahead."
The pair quickly struck up a friendly conversation. When Howard found out about her anniversary the following day, he invited her to sit at his table. The encounter meant the world to the woman.
A widow was sitting by herself when a stranger asked if he could join her | Photo: youtube.com/CBS Evening News
FEEL LIKE HER GRANDKIDS
She expressed: "I think it was a God thing. I think God sent me there." The widow who lived alone with her dog was stunned by the experience and the kindness of strangers, who she now calls friends.
Baker, who enjoyed her time with Howard, Tae Knight, and JaMychol Baker (no relation), stated: "It was really just a nice, pleasant evening." Meanwhile, Howard expressed: "I already feel like we're her grandkids."
Group of youngsters who asked an elderly woman to sit with them for dinner | Photo: youtube.com/CBS Evening News
SHE MADE THEIR NIGHT
When asked if she had room in her life for the three strangers, Baker quickly responded with an "of course!" The men revealed that while | 292 |
It's a wrap! Operation Scarf ties into troops overseas
By Linda McIntosh
When the tide is low, surfers at La Jolla cove might notice a man photographing models. The bikini-clad women and beautiful ocean scene look like pictures from a glamour magazine, but actually the photos are for a program to support troops, Operation Scarf.
Veteran photographer Ray Anthony takes pictures of models wearing colorful scarves while sunbathing or strolling at La Jolla Cove. He sends the photos, autographed by the models along with the scarves they wore, to service members deployed overseas to boost their morale. The idea harkens back to the World War II posters of pretty girls adorning the barracks.
"We just want to send them something from home and let our boys know we're thinking of them," Anthony said. "It's like getting a note from the girl next door."
Many of the models have a spouse or family member in the military,<|fim_middle|> Others wrote back that they put the bookmarks on their rifle butts.
Remembering the success of the bookmarks, Anthony launched Operation Scarf in 2007, and since has shipped hundreds of scarves to deployed troops.
Anthony credits the idea for using scarves to one of his models, who decided at one photo shoot to drape a scarf around her top for a new style. "She grabbed a scarf, twisted and tied it, and then said she knew it was the beginning of a style she loved."
Anthony started with a supply of scarves he used as accent props in his photography business. Later, as friends heard what Anthony was doing, he got donations of scarves. As demand increased, Anthony and his wife bought scarves at thrift shops to keep costs down. The couple pays the shipping costs and packs the boxes of scarves and photos with volunteers.
"It's not a political statement. It's a way we can thank our troops," Anthony said.
Some folks stop by The Cove while he is photographing and end up wanting to help. "We need scarves and volunteers," Anthony said. "We'd like to make this a bigger thing." | and they know what it means to get a souvenir from home. One of the models, Sgt. Wanoka "Lorraine" Woods, served as a Marine for eight years.
"I've been there beside them and I know for a fact it helps when people back home send things," said Woods, a Del Mar resident who served two tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan for Operation Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom.
"We all looked forward to the mail. Sometimes we wouldn't get anything for weeks or months, and it touched us when anything arrived."
Woods found out about Operation Scarf while she was modeling beach clothing for Anthony several years ago during her furloughs in San Diego.
"He told me about his idea and I thought it was wonderful," Woods said. Since then, she has modeled dozens of scarves.
Anthony recruits volunteers to model scarves mostly through word of mouth. He happened to meet actress/model Jessica Leigh at the La Jolla beach relaxing, and decided to tell her about his mission. Willing to help, Leigh immediately posed with a scarf, and became one of more than a dozen volunteer models for Operation Scarf. Her picture can be seen at www.operationscarf.com.
Operation Scarf is an offshoot of an earlier program Anthony and his wife of 37 years, Sally, started in the 1990s to support troops in Desert Storm. The couple participated in a book drive for deployed service members and while they collected donations at their sportswear store in Santa Barbara, they also made bookmarks to go inside each book. The bookmarks had photographs of models wearing sportswear from their store.
He recalled a letter from an F-16 pilot who explained that he hung the bookmark in his cockpit for good luck when they flew on missions. | 362 |
Q: Haskell- How to keep track of counter in recursive function I'm having some difficulty trying to keep track of a counter variable in my function.
I created a function that takes a number as a single parameter and recursively multiplies the number by two, summing all the numbers multiplied by two together, the code below makes it more clear what I intend to do:
sum :: Float -> Float
sum x = x + sum (2*x)
However, the difficulty I am facing, is that I want the function to recurse only ten times. So I want it to stop once ten numbers have been added together. I tried using a counter to keep track of how many times the function has recursed, but to no avail.
This is what I tried:
sumTen :: Float -> Float
sumTen x n
where
n=10
|n == 0 = x
|otherwise = x + sumTen (2*x) (<|fim_middle|> -> a -> a
compose = foldr (.) id
If you prefer, you can write a small general helper:
recurseOnly :: Int -> ((a->a)->(a->a)) -> (a->a)
recurseOnly n funK = compose (replicate n funK) id
sum10 :: Float -> Float
sum10 = recurseOnly 10 sumK
A: sumTen :: Float -> Float
sumTen x = go 10 x
where
go n x
| n == 0 = x
| otherwise = x + go (n-1) (2*x)
There are two main points here: go is a simple recursive function of two arguments, which passes along the n to make you stop at the right time. But because you don't want to expose that argument, the top-level sumTen function is just a partially-applied version of go. You could even write this as:
sumTen = go 10
where go n x = -- ...
Which one you prefer is a style choice, really.
A: Perhaps this even:
sumTen x = sum $ take (10+1) $ iterate (* 2) x
| n-1)
I realize the code above does not work, counter n would be given the value ten through every recursive call, meaning it will never reach the base case n == 0.
What makes this so difficult is that sumTen must be called using one parameter. In the code above, I tried to give the function a default parameter n with a predetermined value, but it clearly does not work.
Can someone help me make the recursive function stop after 'n' recursive calls?
A: You can use an auxiliary function:
sumNRec x 0 = 0
sumNRec x times = x + sumNRec (x*2) (times - 1)
sumTen x = sumNRec x 10
A: Let's solve the problem in a general way. Start with your original function:
sum :: Float -> Float
sum x = x + sum (2*x)
As a first step, add an extra rec argument. This rec stands for "recursive call", and is a function that we are going to call instead of all the recursive calls in the function body. Concretely, just replace any sum that appears in the right hand side of the definition with rec:
sumK :: (Float -> Float) -> Float -> Float
sumK rec x = x + rec (2*x)
Now, if we wanted the recursive function executed zero times, we would get id. To recurse just once, we can use sumK id since
sumK id x = x + id (2*x) = x + 2*x
To recurse twice: sumK (sumK id) since
sumK (sumK id) x = x + sumK id (2*x) = x + (2*x) + 2*(2*x)
And so on: to recurse n times we just run sumK (... (sumK id)...) where sumK is applied n times. Equivalently, this can be written as the composition sumK . sumK . ... . sumK $ id. So, to obtain that it is enough to generate a list [sumK,sumK,...], compose them, and apply id at the end.
sum10 :: Float -> Float
sum10 = compose (replicate 10 sumK) id
compose :: [a -> a] | 478 |
Welcome to Curlew Cottage ~ a holiday cottage in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales!
" This is my fourth year here. Still cosy, still beautiful, still home from home "
Curlew holiday Cottage is conveniently placed for exploring the Yorkshire Dales and the delightful Yorkshire market towns, including Richmond, Hawes and Leyburn. Other local attractions including Askrigg, famed for its connection with the TV<|fim_middle|> approximately 4 miles west of the village of Reeth, the cottage commands spectacular views over Swaledale, one of the least spoilt dales, known for its flower meadows and stone barns.
The cottage has been lovingly renovated to a high standard and boasts a combination of all the facilities that are invaluable for a comfortable and refreshing self-catering holiday while retaining all the character and delights of an old English cottage.
Spectacular views of the Yorkshire Dales - as seen from the cottage!
The cottage and its stunning location makes an ideal romantic and cosy retreat, offering complete tranquillity and a perfect base for those wishing to simply relax and unwind. Guests can enjoy walking and hiking direct from the door. | series "All Creatures Great and Small", the Bowes museum in Barnard Castle, Aysgarth Falls and Hardraw Force, England's highest single drop waterfall at 99ft. Venture a little further afield and visit Durham, Harrogate, York, the Yorkshire Moors, Hadrian's Wall or the Lake District, all accessible from this lovely spot.
Curlew holiday Cottage is a Grade II listed 18th century former lead miner's cottage in the heart of Swaledale in the Yorkshire Dales National Park. Situated in an elevated position above a small hamlet of traditional farms and cottages | 126 |
Home > Get Support > Webinars > Presenters > Mick Miller
Mick was diagnosed with throat and neck cancer in 2013<|fim_middle|>inars presented by Mick: Communication – "How do I deal with the 'stuff' people say?", Anger after Cancer - "I finished treatment, so why do I feel so angry?" | with his treatment including a 70 day stay in hospital. Following the completion of his treatment Mick embarked on a journey of discovery and recovery. Circumnavigating Australia in his 1968 sky blue Volkswagen Beetle named "The Rocket" and raising funds and awareness for post cancer recovery. He has just published a book of his adventures called – "Travelling Australia Micks Way".
Mick has worked for over twenty five years as a sports coach. He's worked with elite athletes chasing Olympic glory, world champions, professional Rugby Union & League teams, America's Cup campaigns, and up-and-coming youth champions. He develops and implements strategies for individuals, athletes, teams, corporate employees and CEO's. Mick also specialises in working in partnership with businesses to coach individuals and teams.
Web | 162 |
- First Passage to the West on the Rocky Mountaineer, as featured on 'Great Canadian Railways' with Michael Portillo.
First Passage to the West is the most popular of the Rocky Mountaineer routes, and the only passenger rail service on the historic Canadian Pacific track - famous for uniting the country and connecting British Columbia to Canada over 125 years ago.
To many, Banff and Lake Louise represent the holy grail of must-see sites in Western Canada. When you embark on this 7-day escorted rail/tour of a lifetime and you'll experience luxury, romance and incredible scenery as your journey through some of<|fim_middle|> Pacific Coast city of Vancouver to Kamloops, in the heart of British Columbia's interior. On your journey you'll witness dramatic changes in scenery, from the lush green fields of the Fraser Valley, through forests and winding river canyons surrounded by the peaks of the Coast and Cascade Mountains, to the desert-like environment of the BC Interior.
Highlights today will include the cascading waters of Hell's Gate in the Fraser Canyon and the steep slopes and rock sheds along the Thompson River. Lunch, wine and beverages will be served onboard as you make your way through Western Canada's most spectacular scenery.
Your day concludes along the shores of Kamloops Lake between 6:00pm and 7:30pm. In the evening take a stroll around Kamloops, enjoy live music in one of the bars, or relax with a coffee in the pretty waterfront park.
It's an early morning 6.25 am departure today, but it will be worth it. Just when you think the scenery can't get any better. It does. Your journey today takes you east to the mighty Canadian Rockies and the province of Alberta.
Gaze out over ranchlands, turquiose lakes and high mountain passes before we travel through the remarkable tunnels that form part of the rich rail history of the Canadian Rockies. Highlights include Craigellachie, where the last spike of the Canadian Pacific Railway was driven, the climb over Rogers Pass, the Kicking Horse Canyon, the Spiral Tunnels and, the glaciers and snow-capped peaks of the Canadian Rockies.
Your Rocky Mountaineer adventure rail journey comes to an end at the sparkling shores of iconic Lake Louise between 7pm-8.30pm. Your overnight stay is on one of the world's most celebrated hotels - the Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise.
The morning is yours to enjoy at leisure. Take a stroll around the lake, scenic hike to Lake Agnes, or hire a canoe for a leisurely paddle across the lake.
After lunch you'll be collected and will enjoy an afternoon tour of breathtaking Yoho National Park. Established in 1886 the history of Yoho National Park is bound up with a railroad, spiral tunnels inside mountains and stories of runaway trains, but also offers spectacular and unique natural beauty with 28 mountain peaks. Here you'll visit the parks largest, and one of its most remarkable lakes, Emerald Lake. Renowned for its vivid colour, Emerald Lake is a place of serene beauty.
Your day begins with an escorted sightseeing tour of Banff, where you'll get to ride the Banff Gondola to the top of Sulphur Mountain. You'll witness more incredible Alberta scenery with stops at Bow Falls, Lake Minnewanka, Surprise Corner, and the Hoodoos.
For a birds eye view of this region, we've also included a 12 minute panoramic helicopter flight over the remarkable landscape of the Rockies. This is a spectacular end to your unforgettable journey!
Enjoy breakfast alfresco in one of the many eateries that line popular Stephen Avenue, or check out the Western stores for some last minute souveniers before your early afternoon flight back to the UK. | the most spectacular scenery on earth.
The Rocky Mountaineer's Passage to the West was recently featured on Michael Portillo's BBC2 series, 'Great Canadian Railways'. This journey can be taken as an escorted rail/tour holiday, or a part of a fly-drive. Pre/post Alaskan cruise add-ons are also available. All Bon Voyage holidays can be totally tailor-made, please call for further details.
This tour also operates in reverse. Dates available from April to October. Silverleaf and GoldLeaf service are available. All Bon Voyage holidays can be tailor-made and the 2-day rail trip can also be combined with a fly drive holiday and/or Alaskan cruise. Please call Bon Voyage for a full itinerary planning service, current availability, prices and special offers.
Nestled in an idyllic setting between the Pacific Ocean and the North Shore Mountain range, the cosmopolitan city of Vancouver is a coastal gem. Spend your evening here exploring historic Gastown or enjoy the views over the Straits of Georgia as you dine by the waterfront.
Want to spend longer in Vancouver, or time on Vancouver Island? Maybe an Alaska cruise takes your fancy? All these options, and others can be added to your holiday. Please can Bon Voyage for further details.
Today, you'll enjoy a tour of Vancouver plus a choice of activity. These include, a Sea Safari along the Howe Sound coat, culinary walking tour of Granville Island, guided cycle tour and a sightseeing tour of Vancouver's stunning North Shore.
All aboard the Rocky Mountaineer! You'll be collected from your hotel for a 7.30am departure. Once onboard you'll enjoy a delicious breakfast.
Today you'll travel in comfort and style from the | 347 |
Thank you for coming. Glad to meet you. This is my personal page.
You know, some of the usual stuff...philosophy, favorites, personal and business history, other blah, blah, blah...merely click on the links...take care, Jeff
This page is just a fun page to kind of see how much we have in common. Here are
listed some of my favorite things to do, to eat, to listen to, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
It is of absolutely no importance whatsoever. There is no way that I have done or read
or seen everything and this is not what I think are the best of anything, simply my favorites.
The individual<|fim_middle|> Paso Cliffs of Dover
Stairway to Heaven Whenever You're on My Mind Radio, Radio
Piece of My Heart You're the One
Favorite Musicians
J. Hendrix, E. Clapton, M. Barre, C. Santana, G. Thorogood, A. Lee, R. Blackmore, E. Van Halen, P. Townshend, R. Kreiger, E. Johnson, B. Zoom, J. Satriani
Vocalists/Singers
I. Anderson, R. Daltrey, J. Morrison, J. Kay, A. Cooper, I. Gillan, G. Slick, B. Springsteen, E. Burdon, D. Alvin
J. Entwistle, J. Bruce, G. Mabe, P. McCartney, J. Doe
I. Anderson
G. Baker, K. Moon, C. Palmer, M. Weinberg
C. Cleamons
S. Winwood, K. Emerson, R. Manzarek
I. Anderson, B. Dylan, J. Lennon/P. McCartney, J. Croce, J. Mitchell, J. Prine, E. Costello, B. Springsteen, P. Townshend, T. Lehrer
Favorite Fictional Literary Works
Atlas Shrugged King Lear Hamlet
Stranger in a Strange Land Great Expectations The Source
The Phantom Tollbooth Lord of the Rings (Hobbit etc.) The Decameron
Les Miserables Hamilton's Mythology A Tale of Two Cities
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest Animal Farm/1984
A Clockwork Orange Childhood's End (et al) Catch-22
Johnny Got His Gun
Sports Favorites
Baseball Team (AL) New York Yankees
Baseball Team (NL) Los Angeles Dodgers
Baseball Player (all-time) Mickey Mantle
Baseball Player (current) Derek Jeter
Football Team (NFL) Green Bay Packers (since 1967)
Football Team (college) Notre Dame
Football Player (all-time) Bart Starr / Joe Montana
Basketball Team Los Angeles Lakers
Basketball Player (all-time) Wilt Chamberlain
Favorite Team Sport to Play Softball
Favorite Individual Sport to Play Racquetball
Favorite Sports Activity Snow Skiing
Favorite Team Sport to Watch Pro Football
Favorite Individual Sport to Watch MMA/UFC
Summer Olympic Event Track and Field
Winter Olympic Event Ice Hockey
Wizard of Oz Aliens Alice in Wonderland
Rocky Horror Picture Show The Ten Commandments Braveheart
The Time Machine Rocky Easy Rider
Damn Yankees Games The Princess Bride
The Old Man and the Sea The Cincinnati Kid Forrest Gump
The Shawshank Redemption Animal House The Nightmare Before Christmas
Favorite All-Time TV Shows
Star Trek (all incarnations) Kung Fu MASH
Man from UNCLE Twilight Zone Outer Limits
Mission Impossible Jeopardy The Tonight Show
Favorite Comedians
Robin Williams George Carlin Steve Martin
Steven Wright Jay Leno Johnny Carson
Jonathan Winters Monty Python Marx Brothers
Gallagher Rodney Dangerfield Cheech & Chong
Tom Lehrer Don Rickles The Three Stooges
Richard Pryor Dan Ackroyd Phil Hartman
Other Miscellaneous Favorites
Pizza Topping Mushrooms & Extra Cheese
Software Program Photoshop
Coffee Yuban
Car Corvette
Classical Author(s) Shakespeare, Dickens, Aristophanes, J. S. Mill
Modern Author(s) Rand, Bradbury, Asimov, Heinlein, Pickover, Clarke
Booze Chivas Regal, Jack Daniels, Frangelico
Actor Jack Nicholson
Classical Artist(s) Rembrandt, Bosch
Modern Artist(s) Dali, Escher
Beer Cold MGD
Game Chess, Poker, Monopoly
RPGs Witcher Series, Might & Magic (and Heroes of), Bard's Tales, Ultima, Wizardry and most of the genre in general
Beverage Ice Tea, Lemonade
Comic Book Hero Element Lad, Metal Men
Scientists Einstein, Tesla, Bearden
Comedy Routine Who's On First (Abbott & Costello), Baseball vs. Football (G. Carlin)
Favorite Class to Teach Chemistry
Favorite Class to Take Physics
Book The Bible, Atlas Shrugged
Allow me to say I am most grateful to everyone who purchased my fractal
products. My professional life now centers around my teaching career,
and it is a most engrossing and fulfilling vocation. And because of my
40-year devotion to my real career, in combination with a successful
musical sideline career, I do not have the time to continue any type of
retail operation. Hopefully, when I retire from teaching, I can open an art
gallery featuring large editions of this work for public and private consumption.
Thus whatever products remain in my stock will be used as samples or gifts in
order to continue licensing my imagery for commercial advantage and for
the general dissemination of mathematical art in general.
It is unfortunate, however, that many of the fractal "artists" who have followed
me decided that making a commercial venture from one's work was not acceptable
to them, that this venture was sacrosanct in a sort of way...in truth, the past
commercial success of my fractal art has certainly laid the foundation for all
those who wish to continue in my stead...but such is the nature of human beings...
In any case, if your firm wishes to license my imagery for whatever commercial
venture you have in mind, please understand that I am, by far, the most
successful and experienced fractal artist in America and represent well over
$15 million worth of licensed fractal art products just in America alone.
I would be most helpful to your staff and am efficient and knowledgeable
and have worked with a number of Fortune 500 companies in the past. You will
profit by your association with me, my company, and employment of my art.
Please review the artwork and contact me at your convenience.
Jeff Berkeley, M.S.
Fractalier/Owner
Lifesmith Classic Fractals
(661) 316-7359 (cell and text)
Personal History (in 3rd person)
Jeff Berkeley (aka Berkowitz), M.S., was born in Brooklyn, New York, on June 12, 1955, to a
low-to-middle economic class stock brokerage clerk and his wife, both second generation Americans
of European descent.
After moving to southern California in 1961, Jeff distinguished himself by winning awards for
mathematical excellence and becoming chess champion of his school. He majored in math/science
in high school, graduating in 1972 with high honors, just before turning age 17.
He joined the U.S. Army shortly thereafter and served a tour of duty in Frankfurt, Germany. After
returning home, he started at California State University, Northridge, where he, thru 31 semesters,
earned a bachelor's degree in English with a minor in physical education, and finally a master's degree
in physics in 1990. It is during this last period (1988-90) he began producing fractals at the
CSU Northridge workstation laboratory.
He has taught high school and college chemistry, physics and mathematics in the general LA and
Portland metro areas, both private and public, for about forty years, teaching AP Calculus, AP and regular
physics, AP and regular chemistry, AP statistics, physical science, Earth science, computer graphics, yearbook
and general mathematics, top to bottom.
Recently he left teaching physics and calculus at Beverly Hills High School in Beverly Hills, CA, after his
students set all-time school records for AP test success and is currently teaching honors chemistry
college prep chemistry, and honors calculus BC at New West Charter High School in Los Angeles, CA.
He also sponsors the Christian, ski and chess clubs.
He unfortunately divorced his first wife but raised five children, Zachary William, 30, Erol Rochelle, 24,
Montana Pearl, 22, Xenon Alexander, 21, and Antimony Rose, nineteen years old. He just got remarried
to his high school sweetheart four years ago this past June.
He enjoys spending much of his free time playing music and currently plays bass guitar for a local LA rock
and roll cover band, Full Throttle, and has years of experience with other local bands Out of Order and
The Go Katz (thegokatz.com). He is very happy to be playing out again and lucky to have revived
his playing career with a new project of fun geezers, let alone glad to back in the southern California area.
Retired from playing softball (after a long career), he enjoys skiing, racquetball, stringed instruments, science, computer
role-playing games, graphics/fractals, Shakespeare, Jethro Tull, Bible study, ice cream and puzzles of all kinds.
He can be reached at either fractali@www.lifesmith.com or at fractalier@aol.com or by writing to him
at the Lifesmith address listed on the home page of this website. For anyone with a Facebook fancy,
reach him at simply Jeff Berkeley. | items may or may not be listed in actual favorite order.
Places & Activities / Musical Groups / Albums Etc. / Songs / Musicians /
Literary Works / Sports / Movies / TV Shows / Comedians / Miscellaneous
Favorite Places & Activities
Aspen, Colorado for skiing Amsterdam, The Netherlands for hanging out and museums
Manhattan, New York for 24 hour city excitement Malibu/Zuma Beaches, California for sun and fun
Rocking Out at a Live gig playing my bass Paris for women and art
Berchtesgaden for alpine splendor Balboa Park, California, pitching for a city softball championship
London, for history and English culture München for beer
Favorite Musical Groups (my own used to be found at Out of Order and The Go Katz)
Jethro Tull The Doors X The Who
REM Jimi Hendrix Cream/Clapton The Moody Blues
The Beatles The Clash Bob Dylan The Animals
Pink Floyd Bruce Springsteen Santana Wishbone Ash
Los Lobos The Blasters Emerson, Lake & Palmer Traffic
Queen Joe Jackson Jefferson Airplane Rush
Elvis Costello The Kinks Alice Cooper Deep Purple
Southside Johnny & Asbury Jukes Graham Parker & the Rumour Creedence Clearwater Revival Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers
The Beach Boys The Go-Gos Husker Dü Uriah Heep
The Allman Brothers Simon & Garfunkel Steppenwolf Black Sabbath
Frank Zappa & the Mothers Green Day
Born to Run The Doors Surrealistic Pillow
The White Album Are You Experienced? Disraeli Gears
The Blasters London Calling Killer
Almost all of Jethro Tull Wild Gift/Los Angeles The Jukes
Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys Get the Knack! Bare Trees
Toys in the Attic Dark Side of the Moon Look Sharp/I'm The Man
My Aim is True/This Year's Model Jesus Christ Superstar Argus
East Side Story Boston Woodstock
Rubber Soul/Revolver Blood on the Tracks/Desire Sticky Fingers
Quadrophenia/Who's Next? Winwood/John Barleycorn Must Die Blows Against the Empire
Squeezing Out Sparks Sgt. Pepper/Magical Mystery Tour
All Along the Watchtower Hurricane Crossroads
Tales of Brave Ulysses Because the Night Born to be Wild
What's So Funny 'Bout Peace, Love and Understanding? Fall On Me Eve of Destruction
Light My Fire Wind Up Incense and Peppermints
Chestnut Mare Do You Believe in Magic? It's Alright Ma
Thunder Road Thick as a Brick Question
Windy Whiter Shade of Pale White Rabbit
Mississippi Queen Soul Experience Warrior
Cruel to be Kind El | 572 |
Selling three beachside properties under the hammer in two days has marked a huge success for one Coast real estate agency.
27 Hilda St, Mermaid Beach, was one of three Professionals John Henderson Real Estate properties to successfully sell under the hammer on the weekend.
Professionals John Henderson Real Estate sold all three of the properties it took to auction in Mermaid Beach last weekend, two of which fetched more than $1 million.
6/24 Peerless Ave, Mermaid Beach, sold under the hammer for $580,000.
A two-bedroom apartment on Peerless Ave was the first to go under the hammer on Saturday. Agency partner Luke Henderson said there were seven registered bidders vying for the property, which was snapped up for $580,000.
"It was a local owner occupier and he'll move in," he said.
On Sunday, a classic beach shack on Heron Ave fetched $1.35 million at auction, which attracted eight registered bidders and dozens of spectators.
"We had nearly up to 60 people (attend), we could hardly move around to get the bids," Mr Henderson said.
14 Heron Ave, Mermaid Beach, fetched $1.35 million at auction.
The final property to go under the hammer was a brick home on Hilda St, which had been owned by the same family for almost 40 years.
Four prospective buyers offered bids before the hammer fell at $1.25 million.
Mr Henderson said a group of local business partners bought it with the intention of developing<|fim_middle|>-end duplexes.
He said all three properties offered different qualities so they were confident they would draw large crowds at auction.
"They're all quality properties and we thought they would all have (lots of) demand," he said. | a pair of high | 4 |
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Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) is a non-invasive procedure that uses a specialized magnetic field along with radio waves to create a detailed digital picture of a specific organ or region inside the body. MRI is often used to look for tumors, or to get an accurate picture of a patient's liver, heart, or intestines, though it can be a highly effective tool in evaluating many types of conditions and other parts of the body.
Because MRI procedures don't use ionizing radiation, which is used in x-rays and other imaging techniques, they offer a safer way for patients who will require multiple imaging sessions over the course of their treatment, and reduced risk for pregnant women and pediatric patients.
Depending upon the information needed and the part of the body to be imaged, an MRI session may last from 30<|fim_middle|> patients who may not fit properly inside the tube.
For more information on this and other radiology procedures, please visit www.radiologyinfo.org.
Follow us on Facebook Follow us on LinkedIn Follow us on Facebook
Copyright © 2022 HALO Diagnostics | to 60 minutes. Desert Medical Imaging offers both standard closed "high field" MRI, which is a tube like spiral imaging concept with a short bore many people are familiar with, and an open MRI imaging concept, which can be used for certain types of scans, for patients who may be claustrophobic inside the tube, or larger | 69 |
Finding my way around Florence; I can't wait for this in London!
I've struggled with finding an adequate way to explain why I keep travelling, roaming and moving. Why, for example, I grew up in the States, live in China and am<|fim_middle|> feet, weary shoulders and utter exhaustion mean nothing. It's travel time. | so excited for my trip to London that I took out my suitcase two weeks ago.
But the only simple answer is that the two things that make me happiest are my loved ones and traveling. And I am so, so happy to be flying to London to attend my dear friend's wedding. This is my dream.
In addition to seeing my friend for this special occasion, I will indulge in all of the things I've missed while living in China; brunch? Hell yes. Good bakeries? Give me all of the sweets. Hearty, fattening food? I need to gain weight anyway. And I will re-acquaint myself with the culture that I've missed since I was last in Europe.
And this is just a little of what I want to do. I am sure that I will be so exhausted but I don't care. Not at all. Tired | 176 |
I'm introverted, but for a long time I avoided declaring it in public because people consider it a negative trait.
The reason? My introversion makes me crave solitude. And that's not something our society encourages. We live in a world that loves sociableness, motivates loud energy, and appreciates extroversion<|fim_middle|> is sometimes good for the soul no matter how you are defined.
True. We are our real self when we are alone.
My voice in your words, Love it!
Thanks! Glad you can relate to it. | . In such a world, I found it hard to be alone without attracting misconceptions and raised eyebrows.
A lot of people see solitude as sadness. While I prefer and choose to dine alone, my acquaintances consider it their duty to keep me company. Not because they want to share a conversation, but because it makes them uncomfortable to see someone sitting by themselves, unperturbed by the rest of the world. To that extent, some people equate solitude to unnaturalness.
Solitude, on the contrary, is a gift. I see it as a well-deserved gift I give myself so that I can recover from all the unpleasant things I face each day. It's my choice to spend time alone with my thoughts. It doesn't make me lonesome, for no external force drives me to be alone. The desire to recuperate stems from self-motivation. And that's what makes me set aside a specific time each day for myself. It doesn't matter if I'm productive or not during that time. What matters is that I focus on my soul and mental health, prioritising my well-being over all others.
When I'm alone, I hear myself better. I drown the noise from the rest of the world and focus on my inner voice. It tells me what I need to know, and guides me in the right path.
Spending time with myself lets me love myself more—because I become comfortable in my own skin, in my own presence, learning to appreciate my successes and failures.
And that's why we should all give ourselves a chance. We learn more from our reflections than we often realise.
Aloneness | 332 |
Tag Archives: jackie chan
Rush Hour 2
Rush Hour 2 is the second movie of the Rush Hour trilogy. Brett Ratner returns to direct, and Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker reprise their roles as Inspector Lee and Detective Carter. The movie starts with Lee showing Carter around Hong Kong in a reversal of the first movie. Now Chris Tucker is the fish out of water. How ironic. Before long there is a bombing at the US Embassy and it's up to Lee and Carter to find out who is behind it and why.
They investigate the bombing and it leads them to a guy named Ricky Tan (John Lone), a former cop suspected of killing Lee's father and currently a leader of the Triads. He's wrapped up in an international counterfeit money laundering scheme involving a rich white guy from LA, a casino, and that chick from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Can Lee and Carter get to the bottom of things and solve the case before they get reunited for Rush Hour 3? I certainly hope so.
This is a by-the-numbers sequel. They looked at everything that was good and memorable about the first one, and they tried to tweak it and rework it for this one. Now Lee asks Carter if he understands the words coming out of his mouth. Oh look, they are singing along to the Beach Boys and Chris Tucker is doing a Michael Jackson impression again. I know they are trying to be self-referential but you can't make the same movie twice. Rush Hour 2 is like The Hangover Part II, everything that happens in the first movie happens again in the second movie, only slightly tweaked and less funny. They used the same story to make an inferior movie, but it worked and made more money than the original. Rush Hour 2 is the highest grossing live-action martial arts film of all time, and that's almost criminal. Why couldn't Bruce Lee and Richard Pryor make a movie?
Tagged as brett ratnet, chris tucker, comedy, detective carter, inspector lee, jackie chan, martial arts, rush hour, rush hour 2
Rush Hour (film, not traffic)
Rush Hour is a 1998 comedy/martial arts/buddy cop movie directed by Brett Ratner and starring Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker. One is a hot shot detective from Hong Kong, the other is a loudmouth cop from LA. I'll let you guess which is which. They are forced to work together when a Chinese diplomat's daughter gets kidnapped. Detective Inspector Lee (Jackie Chan) is asked by the Chinese to solve the case, and Detective Carter (Chris Tucker) is asked by the FBI to distract Lee and keep him from interfering with the investigation. Carter and Lee don't trust each other, they don't like each other, but they have to learn to work together in order to solve the case and save little Soo Yung Han.
Jackie Chan is one of the most entertaining martial artists to ever grace the big screen. He can fight like a motherfucker and does all his own stunts like a badass. And he does some truly spectacular stunts. His fighting style is also unique. Bruce Lee, Jet Li, Chuck Norris… they all just punch and kick the bad guys. Jackie Chan punches and kicks them too, but he's always trying to escape and avoid fighting. He uses the objects around him for defense and uses them to hurt the bad guys. It's like parkour as a martial art. He's not afraid to stand and fight, but he'll run away if he can. It makes the fights more entertaining, more personal, and more realistic in a lot of ways.
Chris Tucker is talks loud and fast. He is obnoxious and annoying… and somehow endearing. His character is brash, arrogant, and totally full of himself. But he does the right thing when he needs to. Chris Tucker is obviously a Michael Jackson fan and he sneaks a lot of M.J. references into the movie.
The movie is entertaining. There are a lot of plot holes but the producers don't care and neither should you. Brett Ratner will never win an Oscar but he knows how to make an action flick. The movie is pretty decent, way better than the sequels. The credits are one of the highlights (like most Jackie Chan films) where they show all the bloopers. You see Jackie messing up on stunts and see Chris Tucker messing up his lines. The chemistry they have off-screen carries over into the movie. You should have seen this movie already. A long time ago.
Tagged as brett ratner, buddy cop, chris tucker, comedy, jackie chan, martial arts, michael jackson, rush hour
George Foreman Grill
The George Foreman Lean Mean Fat-Reducing Grilling Machine is one of the best infomercial products of all time with over 100 million units sold. That's a lot of fat-reduced burgers, steaks, and sausages. Men like to cook meat with fire but we don't always have that option. That's when an electric countertop grill comes in handy. The beauty of the George Foreman Grill lies with the angled clamshell design that heats both sides simultaneously while channeling the grease down into a catcher. Later they added a bun warmer on top and perfection was achieved. The George Foreman grill is staple of dorm rooms and bachelor pads around the world. Wikipedia tells me that the George Foreman Grill is also endorsed by Jackie Chan in Asian markets. I wouldn't recommend cooking rice on the grill though.
Filed under Snacks
Tagged as clamshell design, george foreman, george foreman grill, george foreman lean mean fat reducing grilling machine, infomercial, infomercial products, jackie chan, knock out the fat, lean mean fat-reducing grilling machine
Kung Fu Panda was a surprisingly good film, and this sequel takes everything good about the first one, and expands it. It is a deeper and more complex film but is just as entertaining as the first one. Director Jennifer Yuh Nelson directs and Jack Black reprises his role as Po the Kung Fu Panda. It's a cool CG movie with lots of action, comedy, and heart.
Angelina Jolie, Jackie Chan, David Cross, Seth Rogan, Lucy Liu, and Dustin Hoffman all return for the sequel, and Gary Oldman, Michelle Yeoh, Danny McBride, Dennis Haysbert, and Jean-Claude Van Damme join the voice cast as well. Props must be given to Jennifer Yuh Nelson for directing the highest grossing movie ever for a woman. Being a Korean American, she respects Asian culture and it shows on screen.
The main villain of this movie is an evil peacock tyrant named Lord Shen (Gary Oldman) who fears that a panda will one day defeat him. So he kills off all the pandas in China, except for one… the one who would grow up to be Po the Dragon Warrior (Jack Black). Po is living with his goose dad, Mr. Ping, and he begins to question his origins. Ping explains that he found Po in a radish crate when he was a baby, and he adopted him.
Po's teacher, Master Shifu (Dustin Hoffman) continues training Po, saying that he still has to achieve inner peace. Shifu soon finds out that Lord Shen has returned to power. Shen has a powerful new weapon that is capable of wiping out Kung Fu. It's up to Po and his animal posse to stop him.
They have a few battles with Shen, and they lose when Po's past catches up with him. Shen<|fim_middle|> impressive as Pixar's animation, but it serves the story well. The story is improved over the first one. It explores more themes and delves into more complex issues than the first movie.
Jack Black pretty much plays Jack Black in all his movies. When you hear Jack Black but see a fat panda, it is more enjoyable. He has a face made for voiceover.
Kung Fu Panda 2 is on par or perhaps exceeds the original. DreamWorks will never be Pixar, but they still know how to entertain.
Tagged as action comedy, angelina jolie, danny mcbride, david cross, dennis haysbert, dragon warrior, dreamworks, dustin hoffman, female director, gary oldman, jack black, jackie chan, jean claude van damme, jennifer yuh nelson, kung fu panda, kung fu panda 2, kung fu panda 2 review, lord shen, lucy liu, michelle yeoh, po, seth rogan | and Po fight and it looks like Shen kills Po. But Po is the Kung Fu Panda and the franchise wouldn't work without him, and so Po comes back and saves the day, having finally achieved inner peace. Inner peace makes you a more violent and efficient fighter. The movie ends on a cliffhanger, setting things up for a third chapter.
Kung Fu Panda was a fun movie. Kung Fu Panda 2 is a fun movie that is about self-discovery. Po is questioning who he is. His past comes into play. It references the first film while preparing you for the next one. It is the perfect second act in a trilogy. I have high hopes for the next one.
The animation is pretty good. It's not as | 153 |
NewsMilitary
Once beyond repair, final Camp Pendleton beach cottages give service<|fim_middle|> those with physical disabilities handicap-friendly kitchens, toilets and passages.
"I think some of the wounds that our servicemembers are coming back with are those that you can't see. A peaceful place like this can help heal those wounds." | members a place to heal
By: Mark Saunders
CAMP PENDLETON, Calif. (KGTV) — The last two cottages to grace San Onofre Beach and replace the deteriorated trailers near Camp Pendleton will be dedicated Thursday.
The Camp Pendleton Cottage Renovation Project has worked to replace 13 of the 30-year-old FEMA trailers at the beach with manufactured homes. The new cottages are build using metal roofs, composite siding, stainless-steel appliances, and furniture.
Cottages are also constructed to include wheelchair accessibility, railings, and wider hallways for service members with special needs.
RELATED: World War II veteran laid to rest in Miramar
Service members from any branch of the armed forces can rent the cottages for short-term stays during the summer, based on service classification level for active duty members or retired personnel.
While the stay may be short, the trailers that once sat on the beach didn't provide much comfort and were "corroded beyond repair and without handicap accessibility."
San Diego Nice Guys, a non-profit that works to help underserved San Diegans, provided the funding for four of the 13 cottages at the beach.
RELATED: Making It in San Diego: Millennial veteran home purchases surging
"The Nice Guys have been long-time supporters of the military and their families," Jeff Schreiber, Nice Guys president, said. "This project is another way to show that we recognize and appreciate those who have sacrificed so much for us."
Back in 2015 when two beach cottages were dedicated, Bob Clelland, chairman of the Camp Pendleton Cottage Renovation Project, said the newly installed homes are integral to local military life.
"It's a place that allows you to clear your head and get away from the difficulties of life, some of which might be related to military service," said Clelland. "We've provided for | 390 |
Home News & Analysis CalPERS selects two more emerging managers
CalPERS selects two more emerging managers
Through its venture with Canyon Capital, the $263 billion state pension system has made two more investments in early-stage real estate managers, bringing the total number of firms selected to four.
The California Public Employees' Retirement System (CalPERS) has made two more investments in early-stage real estate managers through the Canyon Catalyst Fund, its $200 million emerging manager venture with Canyon Capital Realty Advisors. The $263 billion state pension system made its third investment through the program with Pacshore Partners last week and another investment with Sack Properties earlier this week.
In its third partnership through the emerging manager venture, CalPERS has entered into a partnership with Pacshore Partners that will result in $60 million to $100 million of office property acquisitions across southern California. Founded by Philip Orosco in 2012, the Los Angeles-based firm, which specializes in acquiring and repositioning office and mixed-use assets, currently is focused on identifying creative opportunities to capitalize on the emerging preference for open layouts and unique architectural features in the workplace.
<|fim_middle|> managers for the program – San Francisco-based Rubicon Point Partners and Los Angeles-based Paragon Commercial Group. | "Philip is a talented and savvy real estate executive with a fantastic background in all aspects of office and mixed-use investment management," said Maria Stamolis, managing director at Canyon Capital. "We are pleased to partner with Philip and his team at Pacshore Partners and share our expertise in urban investing to help expand their platform."
Meanwhile, in its most-recent partnership through the Canyon Catalyst Fund, CalPERS has entered into a joint venture with Sack Properties that will result in $60 million to $100 million of multifamily property acquisitions in urban markets in northern California. Led by Kirby Sack, the daughter of founder Paul Sack, the San Francisco-based firm specializes in redeveloping multifamily properties in the San Francisco Bay Area, with a focus on properties in need of operational improvements and older properties in prime infill locations.
"Kirby and her team are excellent stewards of 1,290 residential units throughout several Bay Area communities, and she has an impressive in-house property management group that helps the company achieve operational efficiencies by combining resources across properties," said Stamolis. "Sack Properties also enjoys strong relationships with property owners in the area, and we are confident that our partnership will enable the company to extend their platform even further."
As previously reported by PERE, the $200 million Canyon Catalyst Fund, which will facilitate some $400 million of investment, is seeking up to six managers with less than $1 billion in assets under management and no more than three prior commingled funds or separate account investment vehicles. The program focuses on managers and assets in urban California markets and, once selected, Canyon Capital will mentor them through the fundraising process. Earlier this month, CalPERS selected its first two | 353 |
Director of Collections at the Virginia Holocaust Museum.
I've been in the<|fim_middle|> all. It doesn't matter what realm we're discussing – collection development, customer service, material processing, reference services – I've fumbled in a variety of ways both minor and spectacular over the years. I have no intention of stopping.
It could be anything but I tend to get the most enjoyment out of reading, drumming, hiking, traveling, cooking, and long, rambling conversations. I also have an affinity for pie and whiskey.
I'd love to see how Anita White-Carter and Jim Carmichael would answer these. | profession since 1995.
My position oversees the archives, library, and exhibits, so I wind up working throughout the museum. My office is in the library section of the collections department overlooking our reading room. This is where I do both administrative work and all the server-side digital preservation work for the video, audio, and photographic collections.
I tend to work through my day based on a floating priority list. As the primary reference person, I attempt to field as many of the incoming questions as possible. This means I'm often pushing information to people outside the organization or digging for something for our staff. The bulk of our internal work is project based, so what we might be doing at any given time depends on the deadline. I tend to stagger my workload between physical and mental tasks to keep from getting bored.
I spend the majority of my time fielding requests for information during the academic year and teaching during the summer.
It depends entirely on what projects are on my calendar. Since we are an embedded collection within an institution, our work is shaped by the needs of the organization. What often happens is that Monday and Tuesday are spent working through piles of information requests from the weekend while long and short-term projects become the focus of more work as the week progresses. Collection development and processing take place constantly and serve as a nice diversion throughout the week.
The Gate to Women's Country by Sheri Tepper, Lafayette in the Somewhat United States by Sarah Vowell, Golden Harvest by Jan Tomasz Gross, and Black Earth: the Holocaust as History and Warning by Timothy Snyder.
It's not one thing that I've been told but rather a collection of things I learned from having a couple of fantastic mentors. I worked with a reference librarian early on in my career – Anita White-Carter – who is incredibly gifted. As a graduate student, I always went to her when I was struggling with a question or some part of a process; she's really the reason I took the route I did professionally. The second was a professor from grad school – Jim Carmichael – who stressed us weekly with research questions that grew progressively more complex throughout the semesters. His tactic worked well as it gave me a framework for how to think about answering questions (any questions!) even if you have no background in the subject.
Working with mannequins. Not the sort of thing most librarians would ever have to know I imagine.
Teleportation, especially if it comes with blue skin and a prehensile tail.
Not eating my young -- I say that flippantly but this profession can have a toxic bent I didn't expect when I was coming out of grad school, so I'm most proud of serving as a mentor to young librarians and archivists. I think paying back to a profession that has given me a talent for research a purpose beyond writing unread academic articles is likely the most praiseworthy thing I've done.
I've made them | 595 |
Our first week in New Zealand has flown by fast, and we spent the last few days taking part in outdoor activities. On Friday we travelled to<|fim_middle|> and everyone was pretty tired by the time we headed home! | Peel Forest near Timaru and enjoyed hiking through some beautiful bush tracks, listening to the birdsong before arriving at a huge 1,000-year-old totara tree. We then visited an organic farm for lunch before heading back, stopping off for ice creams on the way.
On Saturday, we went to the Waimakariri River valley where we started the day with a rocket-fast jet boat ride up the river full of screams and spins. Then we enjoyed a sheep show and some of the students even had a chance to be like sheep dogs, chasing sheep around the fields. We couldn't beat Chris' amazing dogs, Blue and Flynn however. After a BBQ lunch, we all had a 45-minute horse-riding trek through some of the local farmland. A great day, | 162 |
The trend of getting a fitness subscription package is here to stay, we wager. But just what is a fitness subscription, and how is it different from a gym membership? Essentially, you get to choose from packages like five, ten, or unlimited classes per month from a fitness subscription platform. Two platforms that I know of are Guavapass and Kfit. If you're pumped up to start working out, but not thrilled with the idea of becoming a member of just one gym, this one's for you. However, based on my personal experience, here's 5 things to consider before getting a fitness subscription.
This might sound like a no-brainer, but just glancing at the long list of participating gyms and fitness studios might get you glassy-eyed and excited without actually looking into the details. Check out the exact location of the gyms and their branches relative to where you live or work. Go right into the nitty-gritty and see if the specific class at the gym you're eyeing offers the same class at a branch closer to you. Also look at the class times, so you can plan your travel route for the day efficiently.
Depending on your schedule, checking what facilities and amenities are available to you can be a make or break deal. If you're planning to attend a morning class before heading to work for instance, you'd probably need to use the showers. Not all gyms or fitness studios have shower facilities, and some that have them might not provide towels for free to those who attend classes via the fitness subscription. Instead, they only provide them for people who are direct members at the studio. Check also if any necessary equipment or accessories will be provided for free. These include yoga mats, boxing gloves, grip socks, and cycling shoes, among others.
In terms of facilities, while most subscription packages is on a per class basis, some gyms offer something called 'Open Gym' in place of a class. Basically, you'd be able to use the gym's equipment without supervision during the stipulated 'class' time. Some also include access to their pool, if that's something you like. I've also come across a fitness studio that only allows fitness subscription visitors a limited time access of two hours (including the one hour class) to use their other facilities.
Another thing to think about is the availability of parking at the respective<|fim_middle|> booked out.
One more thing, depending on your subscription package, you might or might not face limitations on the number of visits to a particular studio in a month. For example, some packages might only allow four visits per month to studio A. So if you're interested in two different classes that both run weekly at studio A, you wouldn't be able to attend them both every week due to that limitation. For both Kfit and Guavapass however, there is the 'Unlimited Classes' option, where you can access any gym or studio any number of times per month.
If you're going on vacation yet still have remaining classes to use up by a certain date, a practical option would be to pause your fitness subscription rather than waste them. Similar to pausing a gym membership, this might incur additional 'pause fees'. They're usually not too expensive, but is worth noting when planning your finances for the month. The pause fees might be charged every fortnight or month, depending on your subscription provider.
Surprised that there's so many little things to consider? Don't worry, you're not alone. Now that you know, I hope this helps you make a better informed decision when considering a fitness subscription. To get you excited, have a look at some fun and interesting fitness classes available in KL. Happy exercising! | fitness studios, and the fees you'd have to pay. Some gyms might be convenient for you to get to, but finding a parking space is a headache. To make things worse, the parking fees might rack up to RM10 per visit depending on how long you spend there. Remember to take this into consideration when evaluating which package offers the best value. Take the separate parking fees into account to get a more accurate idea on how much exactly you'd be spending on the fitness subscription in a month.
While there are some pretty good benefits from getting a fitness subscription, including access to a variety of class types, keep in mind that they might not always be available to you as a visitor to the studio. We're taking a guess, but it's a pretty good one – a limited number of spaces are allocated to fitness subscription providers, as priority is given to actual members of the fitness studios, understandably. This means that you might not be able to attend spin class every week as planned in your head, because the spaces might be | 208 |
2014-15PlayoffsGame 2
April 17, 2015 CET: 21:00
Local time: <|fim_middle|> driving layup for a 3-9 Olympiacos lead. Tomic stepped up with an up-and-under layup and free throws by Maciej Lampe got Barcelona within 7-9. Spanoulis found Othello Hunter for a two-handed slam and nailed a stop-and-pop jumper himself to restore a 7-13 Olympiacos edge. Tomas Satoransky split free throws, but a one-handed jumper by Matt Lojeski made it a 7-point game. Tibor Pleiss hit foul shots to bring the hosts a bit closer, 10-15, after 10 minutes.
Second quarter: Reds keep rolling
Barcelona kept struggling to score early in the quarter, while Spanoulis and Oliver Lafayette buried back-to-back three-pointers off a screen, which caused the hosts to stop the game at 10-21. Edwin Jackson beat the buzzer - and ignited the crowd - with a wild triple. Printezis hit a jump hook off the baseline and a layup by Hunter boosted the Reds' lead to 13-25. Printezis dunked off a midcourt steal, but Navarro matched it with a driving basket. After Printezis banked in a close shot, Lampe scored down low and free throws by DeShaun Thomas and Satoransky brought the hosts within 19-29. Bryant Dunston took over with a wild alley-oop slam and a big block on Tomic. Navarro nailed a step-back three-pointer to get Barcelona within single digits, 22-31. Printezis answered from downtown and Lojeski split free throws, but Navarro insisted from beyond the arc to fix the halftime score at 25-35.
Third quarter: Three-pointers keep guests in charge
Satoransky scored around the basket immediately after the break, as Barcelona improved its defense, backed by a noisier crowd. A layup by Lampe soon brought the hosts within 29-35. A jumper by Tomic caused Olympiacos to call timeout at 31-35. Printezis stepped up for Olympiacos with a running hook and a floating jumper. Tomic scored around the basket, but Mantzaris did better with a three-pointer for a 33-42 advantage. Satoransky made free throws and a 'bomba' by Navarro brought Barcelona within 37-42. Spanoulis nailed a triple and improved Tomic's jump hook with another bomb from downtown that gave Olympiacos fresh air at 39-48. Marcelinho Huertas banked in a close shot and hit a one-handed floater, but three-pointers by Printezis and Lojeski caused the hosts to call timeout at 43-54. Navarro hit free throws, but Kostas Sloukas hit his trademark jumper off the dribble to give Olympiacos a 45-56 cushion.
Fourth quarter: Mantzaris threes ice the game
Hunter scored down low early in the quarter, but Mario Hezonja immediately answered with a three-pointer to make it 48-58. Hunter insisted with another layup. Huertas scored in the paint and an off-balance triple by Mantzaris silenced the crowd at 50-63 with over eight minutes left. Printezis beat the shot clock buzzer with a turnaround jumper and a three-pointer by Mantzaris boosted the guests' lead to 50-68. Navarro answered from downtown and a backdoor layup by Tomic gave Barcelona hope at 55-68. But Olympiacos kept running the clock down with long possessions and Lojeski finished one of those with a three-pointer that sealed the outcome, 55-71, with under four minutes left. Tomic dunked, but it was already too little, too late for the hosts.
Referees: LOTTERMOSER, ROBERT; SAHIN, TOLGA; NURAN, RUSTU
FC Barcelona 10 15 20 18
Olympiacos Piraeus 15 20 21 20
5 DOELLMAN, JUSTIN 13:12 2 0/4 0/2 2/2 1 1 2 1 1 2
8 HEZONJA, MARIO 14:50 3 1/4 1 1 1 1 1 3 -1
9 HUERTAS, MARCELINHO 15:04 6 3/5 0/2 1 1 1 2 1 3
10 ABRINES, ALEX 8:40 0/1 1 2 -4
11 NAVARRO, JUAN CARLOS 29:08 16 1/2 4/6 2/4 3 3 1 1 1 7 20
13 SATORANSKY, TOMAS 24:43 8 1/3 0/1 6/8 5 5 4 1 1 2 7 17
21 PLEISS, TIBOR 10:26 4 1/2 2/2 2 2 1 1 1 4
23 THOMAS, DESHAUN 23:30 1 0/2 0/1 1/2 1 1 2 1 1 1 3 3
25 JACKSON, EDWIN 4:18 3 1/1 1 1 3
30 LAMPE, MACIEJ 17:39 6 2/5 0/1 2/4 1 3 4 1 3 6
34 NACHBAR, BOSTJAN 9:09 0/1 1 2 -4
44 TOMIC, ANTE 29:21 14 7/14 8 6 14 3 2 2 1 1 20
Head coach: PASCUAL, XAVI
4 PETWAY, BRENT DNP - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
5 HUNTER, OTHELLO 20:00 8 4/6 1 3 4 2 1 2 2 13
6 DUNSTON, BRYANT 20:00 4 2/3 2 2 3 1 3 6
7 SPANOULIS, VASSILIS 25:57 16 2/4 4/7 0/1 1 1 5 3 1 4 3 11
9 PAPAPETROU, IOANNIS 2:02 0/1 3 -4
10 SLOUKAS, KOSTAS 14:16 2 1/3 0/1 4 1 1 1
15 PRINTEZIS, GEORGIOS 27:55 22 8/9 2/4 2 7 9 1 1 1 5 34
16 AGRAVANIS, DIMITRIS 11:52 0/1 0/2 1 1 1 2 -5
17 MANTZARIS, VANGELIS 20:33 12 4/4 2 2 1 3 12
20 LAFAYETTE, OLIVER 20:24 3 0/2 1/4 1 4 5 1 1 4 3 4
21 DARDEN, TREMMELL 15:25 0/2 1 1 2 1 3 -4
24 LOJESKI, MATT 21:36 9 1/3 2/5 1/2 2 5 7 3 1 1 1 1 15
Team 2 -2
Totals 200:00 76 18/34 13/27 1/3 7 26 33 20 3 8 3 2 26 14 81
PASCUAL, XAVI
"Congratulations to Olympiacos for its win and thanks to our fans from being by our side. Olympiacos was much better than us and took us out of the court with their physicality and high level of contact. They put a lot of pressure on the ball and double teamed most of our players. We didn't circulate the ball, only 7 assists is horrible for us. They broke the game in the first half and we didn't have the physical and mental balance we needed; we missed free throws and layups to finish the first half with a low score. We carried that in the second half even when we played a bit better. We didn't match their physical level and that, together with their three-point shooting percentage, decided the game. We talked before the game and knew this could happen. We were the better team in Game 1, but knew they would come out with really high intensity and strong contact level. We didn't find answers because, among other things, this is part of who they are as a team. We didn't impose our passing game and creativity. It was hard for us and we didn't find the right balance in offense and defense. Oleson balances our game at both ends and every game he was sidelined during the season, it was hard for us to play. Not having him, as well as having Justin Doellman off an injury is tough. Justin in trying to help us, but is not at his best physical level. Some other players have to step up - some of them had the chance to do it today but didn't do it. Spanoulis had a good game, and leads Olympiacos in all aspects of the game. He was very good in one-on-one situations and was a key player, just like Printezis."
"It was one good game for our side. We are not happy with the way we played in Game 1, it hurt our sport ego. We changed our mentality from one game to another and fought from the beginning until the end. That is the main difference; we were focused and ready to fight for every ball. We were the better team on the court from the beginning until the end and deserved this win tonight. The biggest proof is the numbers; we won all periods, had 20 assists and just 8 turnovers, with good shooting percentages. I think we deserved this win 100%. For that reason, I want to congratulate my players and on the other side, I want to say that my players are experienced enough to know that we just won one game. The series continues and we need to stay focused. This is the biggest thing for us – to stay focused for the next games in the series. Barcelona has proved all season and all these years that they can win in every court. They will try to react after the game. Printezis played a very crucial role. He is an experienced player, a key player for us. He helped the team defensively and offensively, also with rebounds. I don't want to highlight one player - all of them helped us win tonight. We have a team in which we count on all players and believe in them all. In a good game, any player can push the team and help it win. It was Printezis and Spanoulis tonight, but next time it could be somebody else. It was a team win and that is most important for me. We kept Barcelona, a good offensive team, which averages 86 points at home, to just 63. This is teamwork."
NACHBAR, BOSTJAN
"We don't look at the point-difference. It is 1-1. Obviously, they have players who won a lot and know how to play in tough situations, like being down 0-1 in the series. They came back strong, definitely had more energy and more flow than we had today. And that cost us a game. I think offensively we were just not on point, you can see that by us scoring only 25 points in the first half. Their defense was good, but we just did not move the ball well, did not look for good situations. They made some defensive adjustments. But that's what happens in a long series. Teams adjust, come up with different game plan. Now it is up to us to go to Piraeus to change things up again and try to win Game 3."
DOELLMAN, JUSTIN
"Olympiacos came out and played very intense tonight. We expected that, but unfortunately did not play well. The series is 1-1, basically like it started at 0-0. Now we got to go to Piraeus to play well, and hopefully we can get couple of wins. We knew going into this series that it will be a battle. They are a good team, we are a good team, and hopefully we can win. That's the main thing."
SPANOULIS, VASSILIS
"We changed our game dramatically, for the better. The most important thing is not to have feelings or emotions, whether you lose or win. It's a big battle that only finishes when you get three wins. Every game is different. Every game is important. The most important thing is that one more time, like the last few years, we showed great character. It's very difficult to come back and to play this kind of game after the bad game we had two days ago. This shows our character, our mentality, how we approach the game and how strong this club is."
PRINTEZIS, GEORGIOS
"We improved a lot of things, but we won only one battle, and we have to continue. It's a long series, Barcelona is a very good team, especially away. So we have to forget this now and continue in the same way. Today it was me. Next day it will be somebody else. At Olympiacos, that's the way we play. We won the game by defense, and we just played like Olympiacos today."
Olympiacos Piraeus celebrates
Matt Lojeski - Olympiacos Piraeus
Georgios Printezis - Olympiacos Piraeus
Bryant Dunston - Olympiacos Piraeus
Marcelinho Huertas - FC Barcelona
Othello Hunter - Olympiacos Piraeus
Ante Tomic - FC Barcelona
Juan Carlos Navarro - FC Barcelona
Vassilis Spanoulis - Olympiacos Piraeus
Tomas Satoransky - FC Barcelona
Dimitrios Agravanis - Olympiacos Piraeus and Mario Hezonja - FC Barcelona
REGULAR SEASON TOP 16 PLAYOFFS FINAL FOUR
Game 1 Game 2 Game 3 Game 4
April 17 19:00 CET LIVE FINAL
Fenerbahce Ulker Istanbul 82
Maccabi Electra Tel Aviv 67
Panathinaikos Athens 80 | 21:00 PALAU BLAUGRANA
Olympiacos claims key road win at Barcelona
Olympiacos Piraeus bounced back from a Game 1 loss in the best-of-five playoffs series by downing FC Barcelona 63-76 on the road in Game 2 on Friday. The series is tied at 1-1, but Olympiacos now has the home-court advantage and hosts Games 3 and 4 next week. Georgios Printezis recorded one of the best games of his career to lead the Reds with 22 points and just 3 missed shots plus 9 rebounds. Vassilis Spanoulis added 16 points and 5 assists and Vangelos Mantzaris scored 12 for the winners. Olympiacos biggest weapon was its defense. The 63 points it held Barcelona to tied the club's record-low in the Euroleague Playoffs. Printezis and Spanoulis shined early to give Olympiacos a 3-9 lead. The Reds excelled on defense throughout the first quarter, shutting down their opponent, while Matt Lojeski and Othello Hunter kept Olympiacos ahead, 10-15 after 10 minutes. Three-pointers by Spanoulis and Oliver Lafayette soon made it a double-digit game, 10-21, and an outstanding Printezis gave Olympiacos a 15-29 margin midway through the second quarter. Juan Carlos Navarro brought Barcelona within 25-35 at halftime - the least points by the hosts in a Euroleague home game at the break since March 2006. A rain of three-pointers by Mantzaris, Spanoulis, Printezis and Lojeski saw Olympiacos improve its margin to 45-56 after three quarters. Hunter and Mantzaris boosted the guests' lead to 50-68 and Olympiacos kept full control until the final buzzer. Navarro paced the Barcelona attack with 16 points and Ante Tomic tallied 14 points and 14 rebounds.
First quarter: Olympiacos returns to the series
Vangelis Mantzaris got Olympiacos going with a three-pointer, as the Reds held Barcelona scoreless in the opening 2 minutes. A layup by Printezis gave the guests a 0-5 lead. Navarro swished a big triple of the dribble, but unlike in Game 1, Olympiacos controlled the defensive board and the game tempo. Printezis hit an off-balance jump hook, which Spanoulis followed with his trademark | 554 |
Schnitzel Forever, London: 'A total crowd-pleaser, without crowds' – restaurant review
Photograph: Sophia Evans/The Observer
Breaded and fried foods are the good sort – and Schnitzel Forever is a good idea done very well
Schnitzel Forever, 119 Stoke Newington Church Street, London N16 0UD (020 7419 0022). Starters £7-£10, mains £9.50-£25, desserts £4.50-£6.50, wines from £24
Schnitzel Forever, a small restaurant in London's Stoke Newington, is the cornerstone of a blossoming high street chain with many outposts across the country. It just doesn't quite know it yet. This is not damning with faint praise. We are, of course, required to venerate the independent over the mass-produced and cookie-cutter, and we do. Even the very word "chain" makes people twitch. I realised recently that I substitute the word "group" to describe a restaurant brand with multiple outposts that I admire, so as not to smear it with the rancid stench of chain corporatism.
But, in truth, the eight-strong Dishoom, which I like very much, is just a chain by any other name. And is not the ever-delightful steakmongers Hawksmoor, now with 12 outlets, also a chain? Over the years, brands like Piccolino (18 branches), Côte (more than 80) and Nando's (3,207,565) have served me well. Many chains are, of course, where hope and ingredients go to die. Oh Frankie & Benny's, how do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways. And while I'm doing so, please give your overlong wipe-down menus a wipe. But some can be a reassuring presence on a blighted, blasted high street.
'Comes heaped with a seriously vinegared potato salad, alongside a jug of rich, sticky demi-glace': wiener schnitzel. Photograph: Sophia Evans/The Observer
The point is that I could well imagine those good ones being joined by a rolled-out version of Schnitzel Forever, the name of which tells you most of what you need to know. Right now, it is a small standalone restaurant serving flattened things, which have been bread-crumbed and fried. Crusty, golden, fried foods are, as we all know, the good foods. Schnitzel Forever is a total crowd-pleaser, only without the crowds.
I should declare a mild interest here or perhaps, more accurately, a ludicrous, overblown obsession. In 2007, I published an endlessly brilliant novel called The Oyster House Siege, about a hostage situation in a restaurant kitchen on the night of the 1983 general election. Schnitzel provides a key plot point. In that case it's a wiener holstein, a wiener schnitzel with the addition of a fried egg, anchovies and veal jus. The yolk and sauce lubricate the crisp fried veal; the anchovies add extra poke. I would hesitate to call it the very zenith of Mitteleuropean culinary achievement, but not for very long.
<|fim_middle|> It's clear the delivery business remains strong; throughout the evening there is a steady stream of riders turning up to take schnitzel joy to the sofas of north London. At which point I should acknowledge that this is not unique. The fine people of Middlesbrough have long had their take-away parmo traditions: essentially a schnitzel of chicken or pork, topped with a cheese-boosted béchamel. All hail the mighty parmo.
I like Schnitzel Forever. It's a good idea, well priced and well executed. That extends to the restaurant design. We tend only to notice such things when big bucks have been spent. Here, a modest space has been cleverly worked over, with elegant black and white tiling, cream banquettes and the smart use of cloudy Perspex panelling behind which lurk tropical fronds of easily maintained pure plastic to make the room look bigger. Like the menu, it all works. If you soon see a queue building at the door, assume they're hospitality industry investors. Or people who just really love schnitzel.
I've long been a huge fan of Riley's Fish Shack, on the beach at Tynemouth to the east of Newcastle, but have always feared for them each time the winter storms roll in. Now they have Riley's Fish Shop, a bricks and mortar restaurant (and retail operation). The ever-changing blackboard menu includes whole sea bass and turbot, and various fillets alongside lobster platters and Lindisfarne oysters as well as game dishes. At rileysfishshop.com.
The results of the annual survey of the London restaurant scene by crowd-sourced restaurant guide Harden's are in. Alongside unsurprising news of large numbers of closures as a result of the pandemic, come eye-widening accounts of price inflation at the capital's top end. In the 2020 guide there was just one place, sushi restaurant The Araki, averaging a spend of £200 a head. Now there are seven of them. The number of restaurants averaging £150 a head has leapt from nine to 24. Visit hardens.com
And another snapshot of the challenges being faced by the hospitality industry: the end of both the furlough scheme and the moratorium on winding-up petitions which had stopped creditors taking action to get back money they are owed, combined with the need to repay government loans, are all now having a serious impact. UK restaurant insolvencies rose 31% in the last quarter, from 226 to 296.
Email Jay at jay.rayner@observer.co.uk or follow him on Twitter @jayrayner1
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BERLIN (Reuters) -The German government will cut its economic growth forecast for this year to 3.6% from its October estimate of 4.1%, two sources familiar with the matter told Reuters on Friday. The revised forecast is due to supply bottlenecks for products such as semiconductors and a fourth wave of coronavirus infections, said Der Spiegel, which reported the news first. The magazine cited the government's annual economic report due to be presented by Economy Minister Robert Habeck next week.
IMF's Georgieva: Fed acting responsibly on tightening, tackling COVID also key
WASHINGTON (Reuters) -IMF Managing Director Kristalina Georgieva said on Friday it is not just central bankers who need to fight inflation, but other policymakers have a key role to play, including through boosting vaccinations to end the COVID-19 pandemic. Georgieva told a World Economic Forum virtual panel that the U.S. Federal Reserve, which has signaled that it plans to begin raising interest rates, "is acting responsibly because inflation in the United States is turning into an economic and social concern." Georgieva said it was important for central bankers to be data-driven in responding to inflation and communicate clearly any tightening of monetary policy, but it was also critical for other policymakers to respond, especially by increasing efforts to boost vaccination rates around the world.
3 things that could affect the GSK share price in 2022
The GSK share price is up in 2022. Roland Head has been taking a look at what could be in store for shareholders as the year unfolds. The post 3 things that could affect the GSK share price in 2022 appeared first on The Motley Fool UK. | 'Gets the same breaded and fried treatment': squid chunks. Photograph: Sophia Evans/The Observer
In my novel the hostage-taker, knowing he has to make demands of the police negotiators, panics and reads off an ingredient list from a sheet taped to the wall. A policeman, who is also a keen cook, spots he's left off the anchovies, adds them to the order and so a dialogue develops. I have no idea why this book has not yet been turned into a major motion picture, perhaps starring Christopher Walken as the schnitzel. The movie rights remain available.
Pretty much the only iteration of the dish missing from the menu at Schnitzel Forever is, as it happens, wiener holstein. I'll let it pass as it's my obsession, not theirs (Fischer's in London's Marylebone does a very good one.) What matters is that they have nailed the essential business of taking various ingredients – chicken, pork, veal and so on – beating them flat, breading and then frying them. They are bronzed and crisp and at £10 to £13 for the basic, which completely covers the plate, very well priced. There is also a halloumi schnitzel, a portobello mushroom schnitzel and something involving seabass. All dietaries are catered for.
'Hilarious commitment': tiger prawns. Photograph: Sophia Evans/The Observer
In the "specials" section, priced in the higher teens, the plate-coverer becomes a raft for additional ingredients. The classic wiener schnitzel, made as it should be with veal, comes heaped with a seriously vinegared potato salad, alongside a jug of rich, sticky demi-glace. The "cordon bleu" has emmental, ham and mash. With the "el granjero", it's crushed avocado, jalapeño pickles, lime and more demi-glace. Or you can adorn your own by the application of punchy sauces and relishes. I especially liked the bloody mary ketchup and the apple and cider brandy chutney. The availability of a curry sauce enables them to include a menu item called a katsu schnitzel, which will drive some of my friends to thoughts of violence. In this instance I am merely the reporter. Naturally enough, breaded fried things enjoy being shoved inside a brioche bun and being called a burger. For £12.50, you can have a tower schnitzel burger with a triple decker of veal, pork and chicken.
The point here is that a single, compelling idea has been saddled up and ridden about as far into the sunset as it can possibly go. There is a very good, zippy white cabbage coleslaw for £5, although I would love to stop the kitchen adding soured cream to the cucumber salad. It makes what should be a crisp bright foil to the fried goods, weirdly cloying. Hilariously, the commitment to breading and frying things extends into the starters, where both squid and tiger prawns receive the same treatment. In keeping with their readiness for high street ubiquity, the disappointing desserts are generally over-sugary spongey items – a double chocolate brownie, a sticky toffee pudding – most of which are bought in from elsewhere. Apparently, they do make their own apple strudel but it's off the night we are there.
'Comes with crushed avocado': el granjero. Photograph: Sophia Evans/The Observer
Like birthday cakes and ambitions, a full schnitzel should never be small and being so, few that we see ordered this evening are finished. No matter. They started out by doing delivery during the various lockdowns and, hence, they have pizza-style boxes with which to package up leftovers. | 784 |
Sharp division inside White House on Afghanistan,<|fim_middle|> field," Gergen said.
Some helping to shape the strategy support counterinsurgency, which would involve a large number of troops focused on fighting the Taliban, plus efforts to rebuild the country and its economic system. Others, such as Vice President Joe Biden, favor a counterterrorism strategy in which a limited number of troops would target only al Qaeda. See who has Obama's ear on Afghanistan »
Some critics have said the White House is playing politics with the decision and putting U.S. troops at risk.
"It's well-known, it's broadcast all over television, that there are individuals -- including the vice president of the United States, now unfortunately the national security adviser, the chief political adviser to the president, Mr. Rahm Emanuel -- who don't want to alienate the left base of the Democrat Party," Sen. John McCain, R-Arizona, said last week.
Jones adamantly denied McCain's assertion. "I don't play politics, and I certainly don't play it with national security and neither does anyone else I know," he said.
"The lives of our young men and women are on the line. The strategy does not belong to any political party, and I can assure you that the president of the United States is not playing to any political base."
Obama met with McChrystal for 25 minutes last week aboard Air Force One during the president's trip to Copenhagen, Denmark.
White House press secretary Robert Gibbs said Obama and others plan to use McChrystal's assessment, as well as the opinions of those on the diplomatic and intelligence sides, to come up with the best strategy for success in Afghanistan.
CNN's Barbara Starr contributed to this report.
All About Afghanistan • Barack Obama • Stanley McChrystal | analyst says
Gen. Stanley McChrystal has taken his case for more troops in Afghanistan to public
It's better for military advice "to come up through the chain of command," adviser says
Critics accuse President Obama of indecisiveness and putting troops at risk
Obama says he needs time to evaluate strategy before deciding on resources
(CNN) -- Deliberations over what to do in Afghanistan are taking place behind closed doors, but the divisions among some of President Obama's trusted advisers are starting to emerge.
President Obama says the question of resources will come after his team nails down the best Afghan strategy.
Gen. Stanley McChrystal, the top U.S. commander in Afghanistan, has made no secret about his belief that the U.S. needs to send more troops now -- or it will risk failure, making an unusual appearance last week in front of a global strategic think tank to present his case.
"We need to reverse the current trends, and time does matter. Waiting does not prolong a favorable outcome. This effort will not remain winnable indefinitely," McChrystal said last week in a speech in London, England.
McChrystal argued the same point in an interview that aired last week on CBS' "60 Minutes."
Obama has said he needs time to meet with his advisers and evaluate the best way forward before making a decision about resources. As discussions continue this week -- including two meetings with his national security team -- some are suggesting that it would be best if talks about strategy be kept behind closed doors. Watch as the administration will debate the way forward »
Obama also plans to host a bipartisan, bicameral meeting Tuesday with congressional leaders about the war, two Democratic officials said.
Obama will be joined by, among others, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, House Minority Leader John Boehner, Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell and the heads of the Armed Services and Foreign Relations committees, the officials said.
Asked whether McChrystal's public request for more troops has complicated the White House deliberations, national security adviser James Jones said, "Ideally, it's better for military advice to come up through the chain of command."
And Jones made clear that McChrystal's opinion is only part of the equation.
Adviser: Afghanistan in no immediate danger of falling
Commentary: Obama's mistakes are a warning sign
King: Obama team to hash out Afghanistan strategy
"I think that McChrystal and the others in the chain of command will present the president with not just one option ... but a range of options that the president can consider," said Jones, a retired Marine Corps general. "Troops are a portion of the answer but not the total answer."
Jones' comments came a day after at least eight American troops and two members of the Afghan national security forces were killed in a firefight at a remote outpost in the Nuristan province -- the largest number of Americans killed by hostile action in a single day in more than a year, according to CNN records.
Hundreds of militants in eastern Afghanistan attacked the troops, opening fire on an outpost from multiple locations with rockets, mortars and heavy-caliber machine guns, according to an initial U.S. military report on the battle.
Before Saturday's attack, the U.S. had announced plans to leave that outpost. McChrystal has said he wants to focus more on protecting Afghan civilians rather than holding remote outposts such as the one that was attacked.
Ed Rollins, a Republican strategist and CNN contributor, said the generals under Obama are playing a dramatically different game than in the previous administration.
"Under President Bush and Vice President Cheney -- who kind of had a war mentality -- they were very much at the table. I think McChrystal went into Afghanistan assuming he had that same premise," Rollins said. "I think you have other voices that aren't quite so pro-war, and I think to a certain extent, I think McChrystal made a big mistake by going out and publicly advocating."
In March, Obama announced plans to send more than 20,000 additional troops to Afghanistan to provide security for a national election. That move followed what Obama and others call years of inadequate resources in Afghanistan due to the Bush administration's focus on Iraq.
The Obama strategy was based on a counterinsurgency mission intended both to defeat terrorists based in Afghanistan while winning local support and helping with development.
McChrystal, who replaced Gen. David McKiernan as the top commander in the region in June, recently submitted his assessment of the situation to the Pentagon.
McChrystal is said to want up to 40,000 more troops to carry out the mission in Afghanistan. Obama has yet to respond to McChrystal's report, prompting opponents to accuse him of indecisiveness.
David Gergen, a senior political analyst for CNN, said there's "clearly a sharp division" inside the White House.
"And it's a rift that could be the sharpest break we've seen in years between a president and his commanding general in the | 1,019 |
Looking to get away this spring? Now until May 15th, take advantage of our spring stay rates for travel through June 30th! Plus, Sonesta Travel Pass members will earn 2X points when booking with their Member ID.
Rates are subject to availability, certain restrictions or blackout dates may apply. Must book with promo code 2X19SP by 5/15/19 for stays with arrivals through 6/30/19. Double points offer valid for Sonesta Travel Pass members only at participating properties. Sonesta Travel Pass Member ID must be on the reservation. Please allow 2 weeks after your departure for bonus points to be deposited into your account. Offers cannot be combined with any other discounts or offers, and do not apply to groups, past stays, or existing reservations. There is a maximum of<|fim_middle|> terms & conditions for program details. | 100,000 points awarded per stay (including base and promotional points as per program terms and conditions). Please see full | 28 |
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To Generate Electricity, Just Tap on this Virus
Allison Guy
Is your friend impatiently tapping on her phone, or is she just charging the battery? Researchers at the Berkeley Lab have produced the first virus-powered generator that runs off taps. The device takes advantage of a special characteristic of certain viruses, piezoelectricity<|fim_middle|>, which self-assemble into a thin, organized film, may also pave the way for simplified electronics manufacturing.
This technology could potentially generate electricity from any object that's subject to motion or vibration: Doors in apartment buildings, busy sidewalks and roads, even the soles of shoes. There's stranger, next natural applications to consider as well. What about tiny surveillance devices that run on pigeons' flapping wings? Or streetlights powered by leaves as they shake in the wind? Whatever the outcome, this piezoelectric generator represents a step away from mechanistic thought, and towards a more ecological approach to design.
Via Berkeley Lab.
Calm-technology, Guided Growth, Microbial Factories, Nanotechnology
Bio Art & Design Awards 2015 Grass Wheel The Water-Cleaning Bike | , that converts movement into electrical energy. By tapping on a small electrode coated in harmless viruses, the scientists were able to produce enough energy to power a liquid-crystal display. The viruses | 37 |
Riding for the Brand
by Lawrence H. Lee
Riding for the Brand is the autobiography of Lawrence H. "Larry" Lee, who started working for Western Airlines in 1943 as a baggage handler, and eventually became CEO and Chairman of the Board. Larry was instrumental in establishing a "hub" in Salt Lake City, Utah, in just 3 short months, a task that was nothing short of a miracle. Larry believed in miracles, and that with enough hard work, dedication, and sacrifice they could happen. Larry worked with the unions to bring the airline back from the brink of bankruptcy and implemented a profit sharing plan, as well as giving the unions representation on the Board of Directors. Larry truly "rode for the brand". With his loyalty, leadership and vision, Western posted the highest profit in its 60 year history on the day he retired.
Riding for the Brand is the autobiography of Lawrence H. "Larry" Lee. Larry began working for Western Airlines in 1943, at the age of 16, as a baggage handler in Salt Lake City, Utah. This experience landed him a job in the Naval Air Transport Service during WWII, and he was stationed in Shanghai, among other places. After military service, he felt that he never wanted to fly again! Larry married his sweetheart, Margie, and went back to work for Western. In his 43 year career, Larry worked in many different capacities, including assistant VP of labor relations. This work helped to build a foundation with the unions that he would need to save the airline in its later years. There were many changes in<|fim_middle|> AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Subgenre:Business
Format:Hardcover
Hardcover ISBN:9781543925371
Riding for the Brand by Lawrence H. Lee
Log in to submit a book review | the top management of Western Airlines in those years. Talent was difficult to recruit and to maintain. Airlines were struggling to adapt to deregulation, and others the size of Western, such as Braniff and Continental had declared bankruptcy. Larry was charged with setting up a "hub" in Salt Lake City, Utah, and did so in just 3 short months. This was something no other airline had been able to do, and with little or no cash to do it. When Larry became CEO of the airline, Western was losing money and had no long term plan to turn things around. Larry went out to the employees to ask for more wage cuts, and led by example, working for $1 a month until Western returned to profitability. Riding for the Brand is an amazing story of one CEO that got it right, in contrast to corporate officers today that have only self-interest and greed. Larry was truly loyal to the brand, loved by many that worked with him, and on the day that he retired in 1986, Western posted its highest profit in its 60 year history.
Lawrence H. "Larry" Lee was born in Santaquin, Utah. He began his career with Western Airlines in 1943 as a baggage handler in Salt Lake City, Utah. This is his personal history and details his 43 years with Western, and his rise to CEO and Chairman of the Board. Larry was responsible for developing Salt Lake City into a "hub" for Western Airlines, and did so in only a few short months, and with very little capital. His career included positions in airlines operations, stations management, Central Training, Labor Relations and Inflight Service. Western was facing a grim future in a deregulated environment. When asking his employees to take pay cuts, he lead by example and took the heaviest cut himself; at times working without pay. On the same day that Larry was being honored at his retirement party in Salt Lake City, the airline reported the highest annual profit in its 60 year history. Larry was truly a leader in both word and deed. His honesty and integrity brought Western Airlines back from the brink of bankruptcy to become, once again, the Only way to Fly.
Genre:BIOGRAPHY & | 454 |
The mission of the Christ United Methodist Endowment Fund is to provide a permanent source of income for the ministries and vision of our church. The Fund provides an opportunity for you to make a difference for a cause you truly believe in. Giving creates an enduring legacy that will significantly impact current and future generations in their faith journey.
An Endowment gift can be given by members or friends at any time. Cash, stocks and bonds, real estate, life insurance, and saving bonds are examples of gifts that can be given immediately. These same gifts can be made at the end of life, with additional options such as bequests, charitable trusts and annuities,<|fim_middle|> who wants to explore the options or desires more information about contributing to the Endowment Fund. Please contact the church office at (970) 226-2341 or e-mail: info@cumc-fc.org and a committee member will contact you. | retirement plan assets, tangible personal property, and life insurance death benefits. A gift can easily be given by designating it in your will or trust. With the advice of an attorney or financial planner, charitable planned giving may also have potential benefits to reduce estate taxes or provide for long term income goals.
The Rocky Mountain United Methodist Foundation manages the fund's assets using socially responsible investment practices. The gifts and bequests are carefully and professionally managed, creating maximum returns to provide long term income.
The Christ United Methodist Endowment Fund Committee using the fund guidelines, oversees and makes the decisions regarding the distribution and use of the Fund's earnings.
The members of the Christ United Methodist Endowment Committee are ready to assist anyone | 141 |
Well, what a busy time we're having relaxing - and because of that this is going to be a quickie! At the mo we're residing on the Monmar Campsite at Moncofa and taking part in the Caravan and Camping Club Rally there! And this is definitely something we've never done before, but we really are enjoying ourselves and we've made loads of new chums so it is quite likely to be on our itinerary for future years!
Then back to our story - on Tuesday we'd been out for a group ride with our fellow campers, and along the<|fim_middle|> and surrounding marinas.
Saturday - well first we attended the Rally coffee morning where we were given info about forthcoming festive events, and then we nipped off on our own to the wetlands we'd visited previously, and there we participated in a bit of bird spotting before enjoying a very peaceful and tranquil lunch beside a lake, a hot water spring and an orange grove from where we scrumped fruit for our desert - BLISS😋 !
Then later it was a knees up in the social room with carols, Christmas songs and silly hats - and a very good time was had by all!
And that brings us around to Sunday - Christmas Eve which we decided would be a gentle restful one in preparation for the adventures of tomorrow.
We had another little walk into the town to pick up some last bits and bobs that we couldn't possibly do without, and then we lazed about by the van chatting with the neighbours and watching the world go by. Tonight it's another get together with bottles and nibbles, and then I suppose we all need to be tucked up early so that we don't miss Santa!
A Very Very Merry Christmas with lots of lovely surprises and over indulgences! | way we'd enjoyed a coffee stop and a picnic at a nature reserve, and then later it had been a natter in the pub! However, all that hadn't really given us any settling in time so on Wednesday we just meandered into the town, did a bit of shopping and then participated in an easy afternoon basking in the warm sunshine.
On Thursday it was Tapas day - that is everybody who wants to join in prepares a dish and then all the goodies, along with a large bottle of whatever you wish to drink, are taken to the warden's encampment and shared - and what a feast that was! I mistakenly thought people would just bring cold nibbles so our contribution was quail and mushroom bites along with a take on one of my signature dishes - raspberry and white chocolate cheesecake! When we got there, initially the tables looked a bit bare - but then everybody started to arrive loaded down with electric pans and slow cookers filled with fantastic fare which included mussels, prawns, curry, gruyere cheesey potatoes, and a wonderfully flavoured frittata to name but a few!
Then a bit later, and after our over indulgence we decided we should participate in a sporting activity to use up some of the excess calories - and this turned out to be a game of boules - but initially we'd really got no idea about the rules. However, this was soon remedied when George and June took us in hand - they play every day, so with their help it didn't take us long to get the hang of things!
Then on Friday it was out on our bikes again but this time we headed in the opposite direction to Tuesday's ride and this took us into the town of Burriana, and along the way we found these fellows hanging out in the breeze to dry! We picnicked on the beach and exploited the warm sunshine as much as possible before heading of to explore the town | 394 |
World's Best Restaurant 2010 #2: El Bulli
Montjoi, Spain (ES)
The El Bulli site was founded in 1961 by Dr Hans Schilling, a German, and his Czech wife Marketta, who wanted a restaurant for a piece of land he had purchased. The name "El Bulli" came from the French bulldogs the Schillings owned. The first restaurant was opened in 1964. The restaurant won its first Michelin star in 1976 while under<|fim_middle|> Neichel. Ferran Adrià joined the staff in 1984, and was put in sole charge of the kitchen in 1987. In 1990 the restaurant gained its second Michelin star, and in 1997 its third
http://www.theworlds50best.com
Links: www.elbulli.com
By: neotrix
Censored zone
Ciudadela de Rosas
Statue of Liberty replica
Salvador Dali's House (former)
Wind Surfers
Giant Gorilla
Castell de Quermançó
Quermançó Castle
Roman ruins of Empúries
Estadi Municipal
Peralada Castle
Ferran Adrià, one of the world's most celebrated chefs, has unveiled plans to transform his restaurant, El Bulli, into an environmentally friendly academic research foundation dedicated to pioneering molecular gastronomy to even greater heights.
The Catalan chef announced a year ago that the three Michelin-starred establishment, crowned best in the world five times, would be closed throughout 2012 and 2013.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/foodanddrink/8290290/El-Bulli-chefs-magic-food-academy.html
Last night, in the waning months of Ferran Adrià's El Bulli, Anthony Bourdain, chef José Andrés, and the crew of No Reservations documented one of Adrià's 52-course "last suppers" by photo, video, and Twitter. Bourdain proclaims, "I will never eat so well again," and "Half the dining room were in tears."
http://sanfrancisco.grubstreet.com/2011/04/bourdain_and_andrs_enjoy_52_co.html | French chef Jean-Louis | 5 |
Big Brain Thinking
Stanford neuroscientist Bill Newsome wants to implant an electrode in his brain to better understand human consciousness.
Emily Singerarchive page
Scientists are learning volumes about the brain – how it can make split-second decisions, how it learns from past mistakes, how it converts pulses of light into a complex visual scene. But, for some, deciphering the "language" of the electrical pulses that travel through our brains is only half the story. The second part, and one that is far more philosophical and complex, is how that brain activity translates into consciousness – a person's self-awareness and perception of the world around them.
Bill Newsome, a neuroscientist at Stanford University in Palo Alto, CA, has spent the last twenty years studying how neurons encode information and how they use it to make decisions about the world. In the 1990s, he and collaborators were able<|fim_middle|> [as in the monkey experiments] or something else altogether. This would be a start toward identifying the [specific aspects of consciousness that accompany] neural activation at different points in the nervous system.
TR: Do you think you could really get regulatory approval? What are the major ethical issues?
BN: Getting approval to do something like this would be difficult. Any human experiments in this country are under rigorous scrutiny. Lawyers and administrators at institutions take a dim view of this kind of thing because of the liability issues. And there is a definite slippery slope argument. I might be able to make a case for my own experiment, but it could set precedent for others for whom it would be more risky.
For example, if I did this experiment, it would probably be a big deal and get in the newspapers. Some young graduate student might see it as a way to get ahead in his career and decide to do it. He might put himself at greater risk than I would. Maybe he would probe deeper into his brain, where there is more risk of damaging the vasculature. It would be uncomfortable to think that I was responsible in part for that, even if my own adventure turned out just fine.
TR: Do you really want to do this?
BN: Well, I've thought about it very carefully. I've talked to neurosurgeons, both in the United States and outside the country where the regulatory environment is less strict, about how practical and risky it is. If the risk of serious postsurgical complications was one in one hundred, I wouldn't do it. If it was one in one thousand, I would seriously consider doing it. To my chagrin, most surgeons estimate the risk to be somewhere in between my benchmarks.
by Emily Singer | to change the way a monkey responded to its environment by sending electric jolts to certain parts of its brain. The findings gave neuroscientists enormous insight into the inner workings of the brain.
But Newsome is obsessed with a lingering question: How does consciousness arise from brain function? He feels the best way to answer that question is by implanting an electrode into his own brain – and seeing how the electric current changes his perception of the world.
Newsome would not be the first person with a brain implant. Epilepsy patients undergo electrical stimulation prior to brain surgery. A paralyzed man in New England has an experimental implant that translates his brain activity into movements of a robotic arm. And, perhaps most famously, Kevin Warwick, a cybernetics professor at the University of Reading, U.K., first implanted a chip into nerve fibers in his arm in 2002, then implanted a chip in his wife's arm, as part of his quest to become a cyborg.
It's not certain that Newsome will get approval for such a radical undertaking. But, if he does, his experiment won't be in the interest of curing a disease or become a human machine. He's hoping to do something broader: understand consciousness.
Technology Review: Why is understanding consciousness so important to you?
Bill Newsome: I think that how consciousness arises out of brain function is one of the most fascinating and important questions in all of neurobiology. If we understand the system completely (from input to output) at a cellular level, but still do not know exactly what causes conscious mental phenomena, we will have failed.
TR: Most of your experiments have been done on monkeys. How did that begin to shape your view on the relationship between brain functions and human consciousness?
BN: We study motion perception. We train monkeys to look at a pattern of dots moving in a certain direction and to report the direction of the dots by moving their eyes in the same direction. If a monkey picks the correct answer, he gets a reward.
This simple behavior contains a world in terms of understanding how the nervous system performs intelligent behavior. Sensory information that comes into the brain through the eye must be coded into some neural language that represents the stimulus within the brain. Based on this neural representation, the monkey must then make a high-level judgment about what he is actually seeing. This "decision" in turn guides the selection of a motor response, to look to the left or the right.
TR: And you added a new level to this experimental setup by stimulating the monkey's brain.
BN: We put an electrode in an area of the brain known as MT. The cells in this area respond selectively to a specific direction of motion. Some cells are active when the monkey looks at dots moving to the left, some cells are active when the monkey looks at dots moving to the right. People had suspected for a long time that MT was important for our ability to see motion. So we did an experiment where we stimulated these cells artificially with tiny pulses of electrical current – it changed what the monkeys reported seeing.
TR: So with the monkey experiments, you can stimulate the brain in very focused ways and change the way the monkey responds. But the monkey can't tell you what he sees when you stimulate the brain.
BN: Yes. People can report what they see or hear or feel, but with monkeys, you can only look at their change in behavior. I can't climb into a monkey's head and see what the monkey really sees.
This gets to core of the current debate about the study of consciousness. What is the conscious experience that accompanies the stimulation and the monkey's decision? Even if you knew everything about how the neurons encode and transmit information, you may not know what the monkey experiences when we stimulate his MT.
TR: People have shown that stimulating the human brain can do similar things too, right?
BN: Electrical stimulation of the brain is not new. Wilder Penfield, a neurosurgeon in Canada in 1930s and 40s, who pioneered the neurosurgical treatment of epilepsy, was the first to start stimulating the brains of conscious humans. He wanted to be able to identify the parts of the brain involved in speech and movement, before he took out the piece of brain he thought was responsible for disease, so he developed ways to make a hole in the skull and expose the brain in fully conscious humans.
While he was in there stimulating the brain for clinical purposes, he also stimulated other parts of brain. He showed that by stimulating visual cortex, you can get people to see stars or flashes of light. When he stimulated the auditory cortex, people could hear buzzing signals. When he went deeper into the brain, into the temporal cortex, he could elicit complex perceptions. A patient would say things like, 'I'm sitting on the back porch of my mother's house and she's calling me to dinner.'
He did all of this in the 1930s, but the field never went anywhere because he knew nothing about the circuitry of the brain. Penfield was just stimulating neural tissue of an unknown nature. He could elicit conscious phenomena, but he gained no insight into how, exactly, the conscious phenomena are related to the [behavior] of the activated neurons.
Now we know about single cells, neural circuits, and their selective properties. So we can make better hypotheses about how cells might contribute to cognitive phenomena such as perception or memory or attention. We can tweak carefully targeted parts of the system and get a predictable response.
TR: So how do you plan to understand the link between activity in specific parts of the brain and consciousness?
BN: I don't now how to figure it out, but it seems to me that stimulating a human brain such as my own would be a good place to start. If I could stimulate my MT, then, presumably I would know and could say whether I really see the [actual] dots moving | 1,202 |
For those who don't know, Cacao, meaning "Bitter Water" in the Mayan language, refers to the unrefined product which becomes cocoa or chocolate. Have you ever heard that eating chocolate makes you feel in love, then scoffed when nothing happened save for a momentary sugar rush? This actually refers to Cacao, the raw form of chocolate, which preserves its chemical profile. Cacao contains iron and magnesium, two very important minerals lacking in many diets. It contains sulfur, which helps the body detoxify from heavy metals. It contains tryptophan to boost serotonin. Cacao does not contain caffeine. Instead, Cacao's stimulation comes from phenylethylamine and heobromine, a gentler analog of caffeine. Theobromine, meaning Drink of the Gods, has twice the half-life of caffeine, and dehydrates the body less. Many headaches today come from dehydration caused by excessive caffeine use.
With all of this knowledge in mind, I enthusiastically ordered one of each kind of truffle – Mayan, Goji, and Dark Cacao. I also ordered the Maca Manna spread, and Isabella also sent me a Chocolate Chai which she may make available as well. She told me to eat a truffle or two, or to try a teaspoon of the Maca Manna or Chai. As soon as I got the package, I ate a truffle, had a teaspoon of the Maca Manna, a teaspoon of the Chai, and two more truffles throughout the day. I felt quite good by the end. I love Cacao!
I will now review each product in order. Each truffle uses agave nectar and date sugar as sweeteners, and contains no dairy. Cacao Nibbs refer to pieces of the whole cacao bean. Cacao Powder refers to the powderized nibbs. Nibbs and powder contain the whole cacao bean. Cacao butter refers to the removed fats of the cacao bean.
First, I<|fim_middle|> combination before, and once again it worked. If you enjoy tea, then you will want to try a tin or two of these teas.
We have some great new products, and I hope you enjoyed reading my reviews as much as I enjoyed trying the products interviewed. Definitely give them a try!
Support the Curtain by buying these wonderful creations. Just follow the link and visit Solay Wellness from there. | tried a goji-Cherry truffle. Goji berries have a whole fascinating nutritional profile themselves, and the Tibetans use them to enhance longevity. Combining them with Cacao make an ultimate superfood snack! Ingredients: Organic Cacao Powder, Organic Agave, Organic Cacao Butter, Dried Bing Cherries, Organic Cacao Nibs, Organic Goji Berries, Organic Vanilla Beans, Organic Date Sugar, and Celtic Sea Salt. Sounds good! I popped it in my mouth, given I hadn't eaten anything yet. Usually, you should not do this. Instead, you should take little bites, and saver them in your mouth, letting them dissolve, releasing their layers of flavor. The truffle had a sweet fruity taste which I really enjoyed, and the goji berries and cherries gave it a wholesome quality. It made a great first truffle!
a cleansing property as well. Brilliant!
Later in the day, I decided to try a Dark Cacao Truffle, so I could try one of each in the same day. Again, I had an expectation and it met it. This has a dark and thick flavor, with a texture to match. I would consider this the most accessible truffle. Ingredients: Organic Cacao Powder, Organic Agave, Organic Cacao Butter, Ground Organic Cacao Nibs, Organic Vanilla Beans, Organic Date Sugar, and Celtic Sea Salt. Pure and wonderful, this delivers the full satisfying experience, without any frills, and twice the enjoyment of any chocolate you will buy in any regular supermarket. You will love this one. The Celtic Sea Salt makes the perfect glaze. I might have to go and have one now. I already had a Mayan one earlier.
I will now describe the other two Cacao products. Maca Manna combines the stimulating effects of Cacao and Maca. Maca has a very male energy. Combined, the two make me feel like He-Man! "I Have the Power!!!!!!!!" It tastes incredible – chocolate, with a hint of cinnamon, and a thick and decadent texture. Ingredients: Organic Agave, Organic Cacao Powder, Organic Virgin Coconut Oil, Organic Cacao Butter, Organic Maca, Organic Cinnamon, Organic Cacao Nibs, Organic Vanilla Bean, and Celtic Sea Salt. Keep a jar of this at hand at all times. Maca has adaptogenic qualities, similarly to ginseng. I also got to try the Chai, which she doesn't currently carry so I won't dwell too much on it. If you picture good spicy Chai with a nice touch of Cacao powder then you will get the picture. I will amend this review if it becomes a regular product, and I hope it does. It puts me in a very intellectual mood, and makes me want to play chess or do something similar.
At the end of my conversation with Isabella, she said: "You have Cacao, you need some tea as well." I figured that sounded good, so I ordered some Green Tea with Lemongrass. The loose tea comes in a thing sort of like a teabag, but with paper "wings" which fold over the sides of the cup. This lets the tealeaves unfurl. Before I switched to Cacao after seeing Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I drank tea exclusively. I love and appreciate good tea and can judge it well enough. I really enjoyed this tea, and consider it of top quality. The green tea has a delicate but earthy taste, with just a touch of caffeine. The lemongrass combines well with green tea.. I have had this | 737 |
It is a rare thing when the perfect team seamlessly joins forces to cre- ate a<|fim_middle|> of a casurina tree is used as a pedestal for the island overhang in the kitchen. | home designed to fulfill the unique vision of a highly creative client through the exceptional detailing provided by those contract- ed to do so. Searose, a six-bedroom, six-and-a-half-bathroom family home was just such an exception. The overall building design concept was to create a new home with the feel of an historic, old Bermuda cottage (see page 42 for more on the winning building design aspect), and the interiors had to reflect the same.
The owners—a mature, highly-energetic couple with five adult sons and numerous grandchildren—had already engaged the help of c Tx Design Group on the architectural side of their home when they began to talk of their numerous interior design concepts with designer Lauren Grayston.
coming, but you knew it would always be good.
Left: Highlights of the open plan living area include an enormous fireplace and weathered ceiling beams. Above: The branched crotch | 182 |
H. H. K. Xu and S. Jahanmir, "Microfracture and Material Removal in Scratching of Alumina," J. Materials Sci., 30 (1995) 2235-2247.
A bonded-interface sectioning technique is used to examine subs<|fim_middle|> removal process is proposed that relates the volume of material removed to the applied load and material properties including grain size, elastic modulus, hardness, and short-crack toughness. Removal rate is shown to be proportional to grain sizeI 1/2 and to loadP 2. The model and the experimental results obtained in scratching are used to describe the action of an individual abrasive grit in grinding and other abrasive machining processes. | urface damage modes and to identify mechanisms of material removal in repeated single-point scratching of alumina as a function of grain size, load, and number of passes. In the fine grain alumina, the lateral and median crack system is observed, together with intergranular microcracks and intragrain twin/slip bands distributed within the plastic zone. The distributed form of damage, namely twin/slip bands and intergranular microcracks, are also observed in the coarse grain alumina; but no evidence is found for well-defined median and lateral cracks in this material. The mechanism of material removal in alumina is identified as grain dislodgement resulting from grain boundary microcracking, irrespective of the grain size. Extension of lateral cracks is found to contribute to the material removal process only in the fine grain alumina scratched under a large load and after several passes. A model for the microfracture-controlled material | 184 |
by Muskiprozz
A statue of Pope Urban II (r. 1088-1099 CE) who called for the First Crusade (1095-1202 CE). Clermont-Ferrand, France.
Original image by Muskiprozz. Uploaded by Mark Cartwright, published on 03 July 2018 under the following license: Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike. This license lets others remix, tweak, and build upon a work even for commercial reasons, as long as<|fim_middle|>. World History Encyclopedia. Retrieved from https://www.worldhistory.org/image/8982/pope-urban-ii/
Muskiprozz, . "Pope Urban II." World History Encyclopedia. Last modified July 03, 2018. https://www.worldhistory.org/image/8982/pope-urban-ii/.
Muskiprozz, . "Pope Urban II." World History Encyclopedia. World History Encyclopedia, 03 Jul 2018. Web. 18 Jan 2022. | they credit the author and license their new creations under the identical terms. When republishing on the web a hyperlink back to the original content source URL must be included. Please note that content linked from this page may have different licensing terms.
The Crusades: Causes & Goals
The Crusades were a series of military campaigns organised by Christian...
Council of Clermont
The Council of Clermont in central France was held in November...
The Crusades: Consequences & Effects
The crusades of the 11th to 15th century CE have become one of...
First Crusade
The First Crusade (1095-1102) was a military campaign by western...
Second Crusade
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Muskiprozz, . (2018, July 03). Pope Urban II | 217 |
Inspired by The Hobbit I came up with this landscape wallpaper. I wanted a calm and peaceful scene with warm colors and no sign of any civilization. I'm quite happy with the result.
I love how the colors seem to blend in perfectly. The sunset and the mountains only added to the fantasy feel. I am an avid fantasy reader and I hunt their graphics such as The Hobbit and LOTR. If you say you're inspired by the Hobbit, I have to applaud your ability of making such a lovely piece of art. the eagle seems so graceful and lithe, and the little flock of birds accentuated the eagle's majestic flight. The mist at the bottom is just enough and not too much ( which some people overdo it lol) but you didn't. In an overall, it is a flawless masterpiece. Thumbs up!
<|fim_middle|> job!
This must have taken a very long time, 5 stars!
This picture is both beautiful and peaceful. Well done.
HOLY! THAT LOOKS INSANELY REAL!
Feature here >> whendell.deviantart.com/journa… have a nice day!
Could you potentially explain something to me?
What is the difference between a wallpaper, and a photomanipulation?
Is this a photomanipulation, or is it digitally rendered?
Sorry if I appear a little dim, it's something I've always wondered.
Well wallpaper is only a certain resolution and ratio of an image to make it fit to your monitor screen resolution.
Photomanip is a style of art and has nothing to do if it's wallpaper format or not.
This image is a photomanip with painted parts and I present it as wallpaper.
wow! i love that so realistic!
Come show off your DD-potential! | When I look at this graphic, it looks so natural, so peaceful and just so beautiful. The colors are the perfect shades, blended well. The eagle is perfect in place, and looks extremely natural to its surroundings. I like how you've balanced out the focus between the rock seen at front and the landscape behind it. But I think the base of the rock could be a bit wider (the focused one) because the angle on the photo looks a bit off; (that is after putting a lot of thought to it. The lighting on the hill behind needs to be adjusted; or you could simply remove or add a lighting source on that particular spot. I feel that the grass (i'm going to call that grass for now) is lit in the wrong side as it's quiet dark on front of the graphic and gets lighter towards the back. Overall; that's just me, and isn't very noticeable. So unless you want to make it more realistic, this is just beautiful as it is. GREAT JOB!
8 out of 9 deviants thought this was fair.
Love it! reminds me of the ending of a really old 3d movie "Final Fantasy the Spirits Within," with that gorgeous song " the dream within" playing during credits.
Great job, a mix of real and fancy!
this is very majestic! I luv it!
Wow I love it. Fav!
This should tribute to the hobbit books and movies.
question: is it drawing or designed photo? it look so real o.O great | 307 |
Preassembled panels make installation easier and are perfect for long Shadowbox – The ideal "good neighbor" fence features the same look on both sides.
Jan 29, 2016 Attaching the pickets to create a neighbor friendly shadowbox fence or create a privacy fence using the Installing Fence Posts: Overview.
We opted to build a wood shadowbox privacy fence from the ground up, which For an easy-to-build fence, you might consider using pre-assembled panels, which can . A Post-Pod (cepcotool.com) is helpful for a<|fim_middle|>, Pressure Treated, and White Cedar.
The simplest procedure for installation of shadow box fences is given here. Note: If using preassembled shadow box fence panels, skip the next two steps.
Similar to shown: 6-foot-tall shadow-box panel, about $30 per linear foot in . can find ready-to-install panels at home centers, lumberyards, and fence suppliers. | one-man installation.
Boards are 3/4" x 3 1/2 (1x4) & or 3/4" x 5 1/2"(1x6). Lumber Available for Shadow Box fence is Western Red Cedar | 54 |
Dragons took he top of the table clash with Barnton, by a quite emphatic margin to stay in first position.
Colin Elson has been showing some great form lately and, winning the first game, appeared to be carrying on. But he again used the 'I'll see what the opponent has got' tactic to allow them the next game, before running amok to stroll through to a 3-1 victory.
Giles Cook looks to be back to his awesome best, in spite of morphing into an Elvis looky-likey, with a comprehensive 3-0 win over the unfortunate Mike Cross, who played really well for little return against 'The King'.
The ever dependable Phillip Noble strode on to court next, no doubt striking fear into the heart of opponent Lee Washburn, who, determined to show what he was made of raced to an early lead, but the wily Noble pegged him back a point or two at a time, but still lost the first 10-9 !!! The many, many years of experience then saw Phillip start to take control, and when he had eased into a 2-1 lead it looked like curtains for the Barnton youth. However it was Washburn's turn to fight back, and when he did, it seemed he just had a little too much for Phillip on the night, to run out a 3-2 winner.
So it was down to Peter Lee, to try to win the match for Dragons against the<|fim_middle|> team-mates watching in disbelief, BG lost the next two games to leave Dragons 2 looking down the barrel of being 2-0 down. Surely the pep-talk delivered would exorcise the demon.
Not at all, it got worse.....BG even handed his opponent a point, changing the "neutral referees" decision from let to stroke for his opponent......Captain Spaven passed out at this point!!
Gift excepted, BG didn't get another point....dragons 3 now 2-0 up.
With the home supporters chorus of "CAN YOU HEAR THE SECONDS SING" ringing out around the club, Captain Spaven recovered saw the scoreboard and Godfrey Angove going on court, and passed out again.
Up against old nemesis Phil Walton, the pressure of this must win tie never wavered him at all, some even questioned whether he knew where he was or how big a game it was.
All the shots came out, and the DRAGONS 2 supporters found their voices with endless shouts of Ole', as Godfrey teased his opponent before putting him to the sword for a fine 3-0 win. <> Match now 2-1 to dragons 3.
Things hotting up, it was time for the second string game, and on court duly walked David "im in love" Jack - straight from his Ab's class.
But whose this taking to the court, not the expected Stevie boy McMahon, but resident No 1 Jake Blakeman - nothing dodgy then.
High octane, high powered, endless rallies but....."wot no drop shots". a 15 minute first game saw Jake sneak the advantage, but this was short lived, as Jacko stepped up the pace, taking the next three for a fine win and to square the tie at 2-2.
Just proves "crime doesn't pay" - "YOUVE ALL GONE QUIET OVER THERE" was now the tune coming from the DRAGONS 2 kop end.
With his head still on the block, Captain Spaven took to the court to face Stevie boy McMahon, who for once had turned up for a match against Mark.
With Captain Spaven, sporting his new sponsors logo, JCB, he produced another masterclass and bulldozed his opponent from ball one. When the air turned blue, the dragons 3 supporters knew there was no comeback for their man and could be seen streaming to the exits.
A miserly 4 points was all that the Captain allowed as he secured this "comfortable??" 3-2 victory and 16 points.
With New Brighton the visitors next week, surely changes will be made, as the Captains heart and voice couldn't take another one of these. | non-stop John Hobley, and as it turned out Peter played like a demon, his style not suiting Hobley's workmanlike game, and ran out with a very comfortable 3-0 win, to put Dragons into an unassailable 3-1 lead.
The eagerly awaited first Dragons derby of the season took place amongst a cauldron like atmosphere.
Tensions were high, as the thirds showed their "win at all cost" attitude by blatantly fixing their order (and no this isn't allegedly - its a fact).
Captain Spaven clearly felt he would win no matter what team he put out, so players of the calibre of Thompson, Senior and Goodall were all rested, with and quote the Captain "much bigger and tougher games to come!"
With Lord Morris on his throne, battle could commence.
First on court, and fresh!!!!!! from his training camp in Spain, was Pete Nickson.
Winless to date, surely he would make the gala dinner as "grumpy Ed Heaver" took to the court to do battle.
Having exchanged the first two games, and being cheered on by the entire Nickson household, Pete couldn't get into his rhythm and succumbed in the next two - third team 1-0 up much to the delight of their supporting hoard.
Clearly not in his plan, Captain Spaven sent on Mr Dependable, Big Godfrey Butters, up against thirds Captain Ian Kerrod.
Given some of them victories this year, this should have been a breeze for BG, and it was.....in the first. His body then seemed to get possessed by a non-squash playing demon.
With Captain Spaven barking orders, | 344 |
I was pleased to see I had a good amount of American Art Glass which I paired with not one, but two, pieces of Lampwork Glass by Gail Crosman Moore. I balances Gail's lush work with a common round agate. A few inches of small faceted Labradorite provided subtle color support to the dusky art glass and brought the necklace to 19" in length.
The Art Glass is by David Christensen who used to commute from Rhode Island to California to sell his beautiful wares to folks like me. See Drawer 17 in my blog dated 5-3-17 for the Art Glass history. These beads have the color embedded in the center—there are actually two shades of the color that my photographic inexperience may not allow you to see—and the clear glass surrounding each bead is cut in a diamond shape.
Gail's beads have been featured several times this year; they never fail to mesmerize due to the complexity of their layered colors and their unique shapes.
I chose the spacer/extender Labradorite beads to compliment Gail's and David's colors. Labradorite is a semi-precious stone that is usually gray-green in color; its attraction is the iridescence that seems to move depending on the angle it is viewed from. I like how an Intuit lore describes Labradorite: it fell from the frozen fire of the Aurora Borealis.
This necklace is very tactile due to diverse shapes and a color that calls you in for a closer look and touch.
At 19", with earrings included, it is priced at $189.
I first introduced a Gail Cros<|fim_middle|> and factories. But the Germans soon coalesced in Neu Gablonz in a bombed out ammunitions factory. They still make pressed glass but not of the pre-war quality they made in Bohemia.
Now take another look at the 12 large round purple beads in the necklace and the five drops in the centerpiece strands: they are pre-war pressed glass beads. Made in a mold, but no mold marks. They are as translucent as any finely cut gemstone. Dark purple large faceted glass discs and small light purple faceted discs finish the 18" necklace. The centerpiece is 4.5" long and 2" at its widest. Gold metal magnet clasp. Earrings to match. $159 for the set. | man Moore bead to this blog in 4-11-2016. Others followed in 4-12-17 as well as 5-3-17 and 5-10-17. To access these blogs, choose the month and year in the ARCHIVES box on the right side panel of the landing page of priscillabeadle.com.
In a final postscript, my friend Sue, a lover of Labradorite, created a kitchen island top out of this magnificent stone!!!
Just like last week, I am focusing on the centerpiece while I am in the blue drawer. Only this time the centerpiece has a lot of orange, so, dear readers, I must cheat. I must take the orange drops from Drawer 19 to make a great necklace. Orange and blue are at opposite ends of the color wheel which makes them very compatible…not always true in our human relationships.
My compliments to fellow New Englander Stephanie Sersich (Topsham, Maine) for her wonderful Lampwork starfish. I met Stephanie at one of those gigantic bead shows in Oakland, CA, and found her here three years ago in the small but fabulous show the Bead Society holds each October in Watertown, MA. Her starfish was alluring to me on all counts: slightly irregular shape; polka dots, so many layers of scintillating colors!!!
This is an asymmetrical necklace. They are a lot of fun to make and a challenge to balance. I often choose to go asymmetrical when I have a few stunning beads I want to highlight. In this piece, there were an excess of fabulous blue beads, none totaling more than a half-dozen. So I gave it a whirl.
Here is a description of those beads, starting from the clasp: flat rectangular vintage medium blue; two American Art Glass with lampwork glass in between. Then the most challenging section to balance: two odd-shapes with a large Art Glass in between across from one odd-shape balanced with periwinkle ceramic beads. The polka dot lampwork beads were irresistible! The only beads I had volumes of were the orange Czech glass drops, so they became the glue as well as the "pop" that holds the necklace together.
Only you, the viewer, knows if all this asymmetry worked.
The necklace is 18" and the starfish dangles 2". The clasp is an orange glass circle with a silver toggle. Matching earrings of American Art Glass and orange drops. The set is $145.
See Week 17 for details on American Art Glass.
Note to Leticia S: your necklace is on the way!!!
This necklace focuses on the centerpiece; it is an artist-made glass petal wrapped over itself, leaving a ruffled opening for the necklace designer to embellish. I will confess I bought 6 of these in different colors from the husband and wife designers and I have no record of their names. My apologies since I pride myself on acknowledging artists I use in my work. I further confess I have made them all in the same style; namely, with multi strands of seed beads flowing from the center.
There should be an equal focus on the rare Bohemia beads I used in the necklace. I wanted to keep their purple color flowing in the centerpiece and was able to bring in green with a tube of seed beads that are green outside and purple inside! The glass drops are also Bohemia beads.
In 1995-9, there was a trader called Ava who held semi-annual trunk shows at my favorite bead shop in Palo Alto. She sold exclusively what she called "pre-war pressed glass beads from Bohemia". They were exquisite and expensive and I was smart enough to buy from her every time she visited.
Bohemia is actually the precursor of the Czech Republic and touched Austria, Hungary, Germany, and Poland. Glass beads were made there from the 12th century but not until a trade show in Prague in 1829 were they commercially introduced. By 1850, the Germans had invented costume jewelry and Austria became the premier producer of the finest glass crystals in the world…think Swarovski. Pressed glass (which means molten glass poured into a mold) boomed until the run-up to WWII in the 1930's and then ceased during the war years.
In postwar 1946, the German glassworkers in Bohemia were given 48 hours to leave. They were able to take precious little; the Czechs moved in to their homes | 940 |
When we started Himalayan Hammock, we knew we were setting out on a long journey making<|fim_middle|> and family or just stretch your eyes into the mountains.
The cottage is surrounded by trees with plenty of birds to accompany you during your stay. Evening visitors in the property include deers, pheasants and occasional wild boars.
The property has ample space to camp outside.
Stay tuned for more updates and contact us to plan your stay. | products we loved, doing things we enjoyed and travelling to places we dreamed of.
Along the way, we wanted to connect and share our journey with Himalayan Hammock tribe members and others. For this reason, we started the Hammock for Happiness Cottage and Campground, a place all Himalayan Hammock owners can call home.
This place is all about relaxing, recharging, and reconnecting with nature, family and friends.
Located about 13 kms outside the city limits along the main highway connecting Kathmandu to Tibet. The cottage sits on a ridge overlooking the valley where you can stretch your eyes into the Himalayan range.
The cottage and campground requires a 15-minute walk from the closest motorable road, through a beautiful rural setting dotted with traditional houses and farmlands.
Our humble cottage features a very minimalist design, using recycled brick and mortal from the original farmhouse which was damaged by the 2015 earthquake. The cottage has been designed with a sleeping / lounge area on the first floor and a living / well equipped kitchen corner on the ground floor. The cottage features two modern bathrooms, with water supply being fed from the community forest spring.
The cottage features a porch on two side with plenty of space to lounge, hang your hammock and catch up with friends | 260 |
Nathalia Clara Ruth<|fim_middle|>925, written up in The American Mercury and later became a professor of English at San Diego State University.
After the publication of her second volume of poetry, Lava Lane, poet Edwin Markham implied that the publications were probably a hoax, stating "It seems impossible to me that a girl so immature could have written these poems. They are beyond the powers of a girl of twelve. The sophisticated viewpoint of sex, ...knowledge of history and archeology found in these pages place them beyond the reach of any juvenile mind."
Crane was dubbed "The Brooklyn Bard" by the time she was 13 and became part of the Louis Untermeyer poetry circle during her late teens, with Untermeyer contributing an introduction to her 1936 volume Swear by the Night & Other Poems. He was an early promoter of her work, stating, "some of the critics explained the work by insisting that the child was some sort of medium, an instrument unaware of what was played upon it; others, considering the book a hoax, scorned the fact that any child could have written verses so smooth in execution and so remarkable in spiritual overtones" and that "the appeal of such lines is not that they have been written by a child but by a poet."
Bibliography
Poetry
n.d., The Pamphlet Pacts. New York: Simon & Schuster. OCLC 15723289
1924, The Janitor's Boy: And Other Poems. New York: Thomas Seltzer. OCLC 593572
1925, Lava Lane, and Other Poems. New York: Thomas Seltzer. OCLC 40861749
1926, The Singing Crow. New York: A. & C. Boni. OCLC 26194523
1928, Venus Invisible: And Other Poems. New York: Coward-McCann. OCLC 1487072
1930, Pocahontas. New York: E.P. Dutton & Co., Inc. OCLC 1395035
1936, Swear by the Night. New York: Random House. OCLC 330949866
1939, with Leonard Feeney, The Ark and the Alphabet: An Animal Collection. New York: The Macmillan Company. OCLC 1394769
1941, In the Last Lodging of Simplicity.... Richmond Hill, NY: Monastine Press. OCLC 9989633
1942, The Death of Poetry: A Dramatic Poem in Two Parts. New York: The Monastine Press. OCLC 4772185
1969, The Campus Drum Beat. El Cajon, CA: Cal-West. OCLC 12183657
Novels
1926, The Sunken Garden. New York: Thomas Seltzer. OCLC 3373060
1929, An Alien from Heaven. New York: Coward-McCann. OCLC 4068669
Other
1925, with Frances E. Friedman, Nathalia Crane Song Book. New York: Thomas Seltzer. OCLC 4380011
1926, Nathalia Crane. New York: Simon & Schuster.
References
External links
1913 births
1998 deaths
20th-century American novelists
San Diego State University faculty
American child writers
American women poets
American women novelists
20th-century American women writers
20th-century American poets | Crane (11 August 1913 – 22 October 1998) was an American poet and novelist who became famous as a child prodigy after the publication of her first book of poetry, The Janitor's Boy, written at age 10 and published two years later. Her poetry was first published in The New York Sun when she was only 9 years old, the paper unaware that she was a child. She was elected into the British Society of Authors, Playwrights, and Composers in 1 | 112 |
Cleopatra Records has released the following statement: "With great sadness we wish to announce that John Harrison, founding bassist for legendary space rock band HAWKWIND, passed away in his sleep on May 26, 2012. John had been suffering from Huntington disease, having been diagnosed with it in 2005. At the time of his death, John was being cared for at Garden Crest clinic in Los Angeles. His caregivers there reported that he passed peacefully at approximately 8 p.m. John would have been 70 on May 28.
"John's throbbing and inventive bass parts on the band's self-titled 1970 release laid the foundation for HAWKWIND's influential sound,<|fim_middle|>'s formation and eventual success. His honest, solid character and playing held the whole thing together in that first year of the group's existence (in more ways than one)! All who worked with him and have followed in his footsteps, i.e. Lemmy :) and all Hawkfans, old and young, wherever you are, owe him big-time! May he rock in peace wherever he is now!" | both then and now. After his departure from the band, John also worked successfully as a producer and staff engineer at Village Recorders in Los Angeles."
Former HAWKWIND guitarist Huw Lloyd-Langton said in a statement: "John was an integral part of HAWKWIND | 58 |
Chrysler is at the heart of America. No automotive brand represents the American Way of Life more than this iconic nameplate. For decades, Chrysler has delivered American customers a means to explore the wide-open, to be free and express themselves. Design, quality and power have always come to mind when people think about Chrysler.<|fim_middle|>ardon and Chrysler worked closely together to ensure that every Harman Kardon sound systems isperfectly integrated into the Chrysler vehicle design– visually, acoustically and from an operational standpoint. Harman Kardon audio systems stand out, while integrating perfectly into the class-leading interiors of the Chrysler 300 series. Each interior is evaluated and receives a tailor-made sound system that takes into account each individual interior parameter.
When traveling the open road, enjoying perfect sound is a vital part of the pleasure of driving. Chrysler has therefore chosen Harman Kardon to provide the soundtrack to the premium experience in a Chrysler 300. As Chrysler's audio partner, Harman Kardon brings powerful sound to each seat in the house – just like sitting right in front of the stage. It's the music system for those who love music just as much as Detroit does.
Up to 19 high-performance speakers deliver unmatched dynamics and a balanced soundstage. | And now, Harman Kardon adds premium audio. For Chrysler's flagship range, the 300 series, Harman Kardon has conceived a stunning sound system unlike any other.
From very early on, engineers from Harman K | 48 |
The band was formed in 2001 when Arnar and Hallur (bass) moved into a house in 101 Reykjavík. Things happened fast and soon a lot of tunes had been written. Even before the band played it's first gig, the industry had taken notice. Leaves played their first gig at Airwaves in October 2001 and by then had signed to b-unique records in the UK. A year later debut album 'Breathe' had gotten praise from the European music press and made it to Q's best of 2002 list. The band had toured with artists like The Doves, The Coral and Athlete to name a few. In 2003 'Breathe' was released in the U.S. by Dreamworks records and the band did some touring overseas.
The lineup changed over the next couple of years when drummer Nói and keyboardist Andri joined the band, also changing record labels the band signed to Island records. The result was The Angela Test released in 2005 in the UK which saw the band develop it's sound further and tour with Supergrass and Thirteen Senses. In 2009 the self-released album 'We are Shadows' saw the light of day, expanding their sounds<|fim_middle|>ur leaving the band in 2009, two new members joined the band: bass player Elli (Jeff who!) and keyboard player Kjartan (Ampop). They are now putting the final touch on their 4th album in their studio in Iceland. | cape even further. With bass player Hall | 8 |
First time track racer Bayden Scott got off to a blistering start with a two lap warm up, a few 'helpful' words from the supercoach and a subsequent stack. Thankfully Bayden is built close to the track and hadn't had time to<|fim_middle|>ors, 5.30pm for seniors, racing each Friday night from 6pm, get their earlier to warm up. There are club bike available to ride for those that want to come down and have a go, we would love to see you there. | build up much pace, but he still lost a bit of skin off the knees. Showing true grit (like his mum), and blaming his equipment (like his dad) he raced on through the night. Don't worry Baydie, all good riders crash.
The first race of the night was a hot lap scratch pitting Bayden against fellow whippet Anton Lupinski. Anton has one more track season under his miniature bike and was able to shade Bayden by half a length (of the straight).
Race two saw a two lap scratch with Ethan Berends against serial state podium-er Alyssa Saward. An evenly matched race for the most part, with Ethan the victor at the line.
Seven senior men took to race three, a four lap scratch, with the internationals showing up the locals to take all three places. Chris Jahnz (TAS) gave notice of his early season track form with a comfortable win over Peter Wheatley (UK) from Richard Berends (NZ).
Race four was a junior handicap over 2 laps, with handicaps based on the best judgement of quite possibly the worst judges available. Bayden Scott off 200m managed to hold on for first place from Ethan Berends and Alissa Saward, with Anton Lupinski in forth, unlucky to have been given a very tough mark.
The senior elimination started way too quick for most with Chris Janhz signalling his intention by spreading the field as soon as the neutral lap had been completed. Chris rode each of his opponents off his wheel over the next six laps to win by 150 meters. Clearly better than his competition on the night, we hope that Chris will benefit from the return of Nathan Hardaker and the Warburton twins plus the odd cameo for our other elite riders.
The three lap junior handicap pushed the kids out to cover 1km, and whilst conceding almost a full lap, Ethan Berends closed the gap to win from an impressive Alissa Saward, with Anton Lupinski and Bayden Scott elevating high cadence to an art form in 3rd and 4th.
The seven seniors then raced a 10 lap points race, with sprints worth 3, 2, & 1 points on the 5th and last lap. A very tight first sprint saw Matt Vagg, Chris Janhz & Matt Hoy across the line, while the final sprint again saw Chris Jahnz first with Richard Berends & Matt Vagg within a meter. Final result, Chris Jahnz winning on 5pts, Matt Vagg second on 4pts, Richard Berends third with 2pts and Matt Hoy in forth with 1 point.
A solid night of racing finished with an Italian pursuit, the home straight team of Anton, Ethan, Steve Sloan, Richard Berends & Matt Vagg just edging out Bayden, Alissa, Peter, Matt Hoy and anchor Chris Jahnz.
Don't forget training Tuesday night, 4.30pm for juni | 615 |
Empowering Our Youth of Today For A Better Tomorrow.
Empowering Our Youth of Today For A Better Tomorrow.Empowering Our Youth of Today For A Better Tomorrow.Empowering Our Youth of Today For A Better Tomorrow.
Welcome to City Gate DC
We are an urban ministry in Washington, D.C.<|fim_middle|> impact today!
Copyright © 2022 City Gate, Inc. - All Rights Reserved. | seeking to open doors of opportunity, empowerment, and friendship. Our focus is on the children and the youth in the city, and their families. We welcome the participation and support of all who want to serve and share in building communities of inclusion and hope.
For over 20 years, we have worked to empower at-risk children through transformative, science and technology-based education, which was borne out of our vision; that justice and equity for all persons begins with enabling them to function and compete in the workplace.
Do you support community causes through your Fall workplace giving campaign? You can support City Gate with the Combined Federal Campaign. City Gates CFC number is 83434 and our
United Way number is 9118
Adult and Family Programs
Our free programs provide academic enrichment, help with homework, a chance to explore subjects like art and science, computer-based learning, recreation, and nutritious dinner to keep children's minds fueled and active.
Our programs with children have naturally evolved to include Summer Youth employment and adult education, also including literacy, work readiness, and in-depth parenting programs.
Our camps expand horizons through field trips, service learning, varied enrichment activities, sports, and more. Together, camps and afterschool programs serve over 400 children and provide over 30,000 meals annually.
Alone, we can do so little; together, we. can do so much.
Come Out and Serve with Us!
TOGETHER WE CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE RIGHT HERE IN OUR COMMUNITY. NO ACTION IS TOO SMALL. LEARN HOW YOU CAN BE THE CHANGE TODAY.
Stay connected for the latest news, upcoming events, and opportunities to serve.
Everyone has a role to play in shaping the hearts and minds of today's underprivileged youth. Make an | 365 |
Why not join us to sing<|fim_middle|> 10.30 to 16.30
Summer Concert 2018 | for sheer pleasure with Calder Valley Voices? We welcome newcomers and old friends on Thursdays at 7.15 p.m. in the Methodist Church Hall at the junction of Hebble End and Market Street, Hebden Bridge. There's a map at the bottom of this page. Anyone can come for a taster session on a Thursday evening.
We don't have auditions and believe that anyone can sing. As a community choir, we are sometimes invited to sing at public events but that's the icing on the cake. Part of the enjoyment comes from an improved sense of well-being: you can arrive stressed and tired from your hard day but singing helps you breathe better and feel calmer.
Our musical director Carol Donaldson starts us off with warm-up movements and sound-making exercises. Soon we're singing in harmonies and it's tea break and where did the time go?
Our central aims are to 'learn, practise and perform songs from the world-wide community singing tradition, including songs of peace, freedom, struggle and liberation'. Members can also benefit from various workshops either hosted by us or other choirs, and which many of us frequently attend. It's a great way to meet other singers from around the country!
We find it works best if new members join during the first 2 weeks of the term (that way we all start learning new songs together).
We pay our subs according to one of three bands each half-term for a set number of 2-hour sessions.
If you want to know more, come along for a taster session, drop us an email at info@caldervalleyvoices.org.uk, or give Angela Barrs a call on 01422 843321 for Calder Valley Voices enquiries. See you soon!
Here we are: –
Sandra Kerr workshop, Saturday 2nd Nov, | 375 |
Before Stacey Abrams changed Georgia politics, she learned hard work in Mississippi
by Bobby Harrison November 10, 2020 May 10, 2021
Former Democratic candidate for Georgia Governor, Stacey Abrams, speaks before a Democratic presidential primary debate, Wednesday, Nov. 20, 2019, in<|fim_middle|> watched a young girl grow into a leader dedicated to service. Carolyn and I raised our children with the understanding that we must work everyday to do right by others"</p> <p>She is known by numerous members of the Mississippi Legislature.</p> <p>Former state Rep. David Baria, D-Bay St. Louis, who was the minority leader in the Mississippi House, said he had met Abrams several times.</p> <p>He said Abrams "will be a powerful governor for the people of Georgia. Of course, I am proud to say she is from Mississippi."</p> <p>Williams-Barnes said she called Stacey Abrams to congratulate her after the primary victory. Mississippi Rep. Sonya Williams-Barnes, D-Gulfport, said her parents and Abrams' parents have been friends for many years. The Abramses were mentors for her parents, RoseMary Hayes Williams and Theodore Williams Jr., when like the Abramses, they opted to become United Methodist ministers. Williams-Barnes said Carolyn Abrams did the eulogy for her mother's funeral.</p> <p>"She is excited," Williams-Barnes said. "We have a lot of hard work ahead of us to ensure she is elected governor of Georgia."</p> <p>But Williams-Barnes said she is not surprised by Abrams' success. Besides being a politician, Abrams is also an author and attorney.</p> <p>"She comes from a family with deep roots in Christ and a belief in hard work," Williams-Barnes said. "Her success does not surprise me at all."</p>
This <a target="_blank" href="https://mississippitoday.org/2020/11/10/stacey-abrams-mississippi/">article</a> first appeared on <a target="_blank" href="https://mississippitoday.org">Mississippi Today</a> and is republished here under a Creative Commons license.<img src="https://i0.wp.com/mississippitoday.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/MT_square-thumb.jpg?fit=150%2C150&ssl=1" style="width:1em;height:1em;margin-left:10px;"><img id="republication-tracker-tool-source" src="https://mississippitoday.org/?republication-pixel=true&post=857985&ga=UA-75003810-1" style="width:1px;height:1px;">
Bobby Harrison
bharrison@mississippitoday.org
Bobby Harrison, Mississippi Today's senior capitol reporter, covers politics, government and the Mississippi State Legislature. He also writes a weekly news analysis which is co-published in newspapers statewide. A native of Laurel, Bobby joined our team June 2018 after working for the North Mississippi Daily Journal in Tupelo since 1984. He is president of the Mississippi Capitol Press Corps Association and works with the Mississippi State University Stennis Institute to organize press luncheons. Bobby has a bachelor's in American Studies from the University of Southern Mississippi and has received multiple awards from the Mississippi Press Association, including the Bill Minor Best Investigative/In-depth Reporting and Best Commentary Column.
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Editor's note: This story first published on May 25, 2018, after Stacey Abrams won the Democratic nomination for Georgia governor. Abrams, who grew up in Mississippi, has received national attention for her organizing efforts ahead of the 2020 presidential election and U.S. Senate races in Georgia.
Stacey Abrams, who won Georgia's Democratic nomination for governor, grew up on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, where she and her five siblings learned about service to others from their United Methodist minister parents.
The Rev. Carolyn Abrams said she and her husband, Robert, who both now live in Hattiesburg, tried to teach their children to strive "to make things better for others. Education was key, family and God. You go to church, go to school and look out for each other."
She said those views are central to her daughter's political philosophy.
Stacey Abrams, 44, has received national attention in recent days after winning the nomination by a convincing 53-point margin. She is the nation's first African American woman to win a major party's nomination for governor and would be Georgia's first female governor if elected in November.
Carolyn Abrams said her daughter attended pre-school through 10th grade in Gulfport after the family moved back home to Mississippi from Wisconsin. Carolyn Abrams was at the University of Wisconsin on a fellowship.
In Gulfport, Abrams said she and her husband were involved in various ministries, for the homeless, the poor and those in detention. She said their children always participated and would even perform plays at the juvenile detention centers.
"These things, I think, stayed with her," said Carolyn. "The world could be better. I know she brings this with her in politics."
READ MORE: "By God, Mississippi is a battleground state": Stacey Abrams handicaps 2020 Senate race.
The Abramses moved to Atlanta in 1989 where both parents pursued graduate degrees at Emory University. The parents later moved back to Mississippi where they served churches in south Mississippi in the United Methodist Conference. Stacey is not the only one of the Abrams' children to excel. One sister is a federal judge in Georgia while others include a college professor.
In a statement from the campaign, Abrams father, referring to this daughter "as the best thing that has happened in Georgia since peanuts," said: "I knew from a very young age that Stacey would be special. Throughout her childhood in Mississippi, I watched a young girl grow into a leader dedicated to service. Carolyn and I raised our children with the understanding that we must work everyday to do right by others"
She is known by numerous members of the Mississippi Legislature.
Former state Rep. David Baria, D-Bay St. Louis, who was the minority leader in the Mississippi House, said he had met Abrams several times.
He said Abrams "will be a powerful governor for the people of Georgia. Of course, I am proud to say she is from Mississippi."
Williams-Barnes said she called Stacey Abrams to congratulate her after the primary victory. Mississippi Rep. Sonya Williams-Barnes, D-Gulfport, said her parents and Abrams' parents have been friends for many years. The Abramses were mentors for her parents, RoseMary Hayes Williams and Theodore Williams Jr., when like the Abramses, they opted to become United Methodist ministers. Williams-Barnes said Carolyn Abrams did the eulogy for her mother's funeral.
"She is excited," Williams-Barnes said. "We have a lot of hard work ahead of us to ensure she is elected governor of Georgia."
But Williams-Barnes said she is not surprised by Abrams' success. Besides being a politician, Abrams is also an author and attorney.
"She comes from a family with deep roots in Christ and a belief in hard work," Williams-Barnes said. "Her success does not surprise me at all."
by Bobby Harrison, Mississippi Today
<h1>Before Stacey Abrams changed Georgia politics, she learned hard work in Mississippi</h1> <p class="byline">by Bobby Harrison, Mississippi Today <br />November 10, 2020</p> <p><em>Editor's note: This story first published on May 25, 2018, after Stacey Abrams won the Democratic nomination for Georgia governor. Abrams, who grew up in Mississippi, has received national attention for her organizing efforts ahead of the 2020 presidential election and U.S. Senate races in Georgia.</em></p> <p>Stacey Abrams, who won Georgia's Democratic nomination for governor, grew up on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, where she and her five siblings learned about service to others from their United Methodist minister parents.</p> <p>The Rev. Carolyn Abrams said she and her husband, Robert, who both now live in Hattiesburg, tried to teach their children to strive "to make things better for others. Education was key, family and God. You go to church, go to school and look out for each other."</p> <p>She said those views are central to her daughter's political philosophy.</p> <p>Stacey Abrams, 44, has received national attention in recent days after winning the nomination by a convincing 53-point margin. She is the nation's first African American woman to win a major party's nomination for governor and would be Georgia's first female governor if elected in November.</p> <p>Carolyn Abrams said her daughter attended pre-school through 10th grade in Gulfport after the family moved back home to Mississippi from Wisconsin. Carolyn Abrams was at the University of Wisconsin on a fellowship.</p> <p>In Gulfport, Abrams said she and her husband were involved in various ministries, for the homeless, the poor and those in detention. She said their children always participated and would even perform plays at the juvenile detention centers.</p> <p>"These things, I think, stayed with her," said Carolyn. "The world could be better. I know she brings this with her in politics."</p> <p><strong>READ MORE:</strong> <a href="https://mississippitoday.org/2020/08/31/by-god-mississippi-is-a-battleground-state-stacey-abrams-handicaps-2020-senate-race/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">"By God, Mississippi is a battleground state": Stacey Abrams handicaps 2020 Senate race.</a></p> <p>The Abramses moved to Atlanta in 1989 where both parents pursued graduate degrees at Emory University. The parents later moved back to Mississippi where they served churches in south Mississippi in the United Methodist Conference. Stacey is not the only one of the Abrams' children to excel. One sister is a federal judge in Georgia while others include a college professor.</p> <p>In a statement from the campaign, Abrams father, referring to this daughter "as the best thing that has happened in Georgia since peanuts," said: "I knew from a very young age that Stacey would be special. Throughout her childhood in Mississippi, I | 1,490 |
Only in Miami
Music star's new chicken wings business offers unusual, unique delivery option, more news
By Wonderwall.com Editors 5:54am PST, Nov 12, 2021
DJ<|fim_middle|>'s "mimicking" of Lucy, but noted the film is about Lucy's personal life — and not the version onscreen in "I Love Lucy." He said he "was excited by the idea" that Lucy Ricardo was someone who "let her hair down," which meant, as he put it, "Let her be a woman. Let her be sexy. You weren't allowed to be sexy on TV." "Being the Ricardos" is in theaters Dec. 10.
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Courtesy of Amazon Prime Video | Khaled's new startup to deliver chicken wings via Jet Ski
On Nov. 11, DJ Khaled launched a massive new, delivery-only food venture he says is "the first restaurant concept to launch on three continents at the same time," according to Hypebeast. It's called Another Wing and, as you might guess, the concept involves chicken wings. It also involves boat-side delivery via Jet Ski, at least for customers in Khaled's hometown of Miami. As for the three continents, the startup — a collaboration with Reef Technology Inc. – will launch in the U.S., the U.K., Canada, France and the United Arab Emirates, Bloomberg reported this week. The Jet Ski detail detail, by the way, isn't the only "Miami Vice"-ready characteristic of Khaled's new brand. The wings, which come in eight flavors and start at $6.95 for a six-piece order, plus sides like onion rings and jalapeno cheese fries, will be delivered in hot pink bags decorated with images of palm trees and Rolls-Royces. (Hopefully, they'll also be waterproof.)
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Adele opens up about her album, post-divorce anxiety and 'incredible' new romance
With Adele's fourth studio album, "30," out Nov. 19, the singer sat down with Rolling Stone and shared more candid thoughts about how her divorce from Simon Konecki helped shape her new music, and how she dealt with the public nature of the split. "It made me really sad," she says in the magazine's December cover story. "Then having so many people that I don't know know that I didn't make that work … it f****** devastated me. I was embarrassed. No one made me feel embarrassed, but you feel like you didn't do a good job." The singer recalls being unable to leave her bed for weeks, overcome with anxiety, after the 2019 breakup, and says exercise was one of multiple coping skills she adopted to get through it. "If I can transform my strength and my body like this, surely I can do it to my emotions and to my brain and to my inner well-being," she remembers thinking once she got back to the gym. "That was what drove me." The experience taught her she was "stronger than she thought," she added. Finally, Adele touches on her romance with NBA agent Rich Paul, which the pair made Instagram official earlier this year after they were spotted courtside together multiple times. Asked about the relationship, she gushed that it's the most "incredible, openhearted and easiest" one she's had yet.
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Pink honors her late father on Veterans Day
Nov. 11, 2021 marked the first Veterans Day since Pink lost her father to prostate cancer in August. The singer, born Alecia Moore, honored her dad, Vietnam veteran Jim Moore, on Instagram, sharing an array of photos. The first was a black and white headshot of Jim in uniform from his days in the Air Force. Next, Pink shared a solemn image of her dad in a crowd with one arm around the singer as a little girl and the other looped around her brother, Jason. "#veteransday. Look at my handsome Papa," she wrote in the caption. "Thank you to all the women and men for your sacrifice and your service. The second picture is me and my Dad and brother marching in Washington. The third is his beautiful memorial box that holds his ashes." She added, "They used to call him twinkle toes for dancing when he was meant to be marching in line. Hug a veteran today. Consensually of course ❤️👍🏽✌🏽❤️🥰." Like his daughter Jim was a musician. Following his death over the summer Pink shared a memory from a 2006 performance when he joined her onstage to perform a song he wrote during his time in the Air Force.
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Carrie Underwood's CMA side-eye goes viral
The 2021 CMA Awards kicked off in Nashville on Nov. 10, the same way a lot of Twitter threads have this past week — with a vax-related dig at Green Bay Packers' star Aaron Rodgers. It wasn't long before the side-eye Carrie Underwood shot Luke in response to his joke went as viral as Aaron's initial, misleading claim he'd been "immunized" against COVID-19. "We're following all the health protocols to keep everyone safe," Luke said in his monologue(via Page Six), "and it's so great to be here with all my fellow artists, tested and together — Or immunized? Who is it?" he jokingly asked, adding, "Just playin'!" That's when the camera zoomed over to Carrie just as she was delivering an award-worthy dose of side-eye to the stage. Soon, Carrie's look was being memed across the Twitterverse, along with references to the fact that her husband, Mike Fisher, pledged his support to Aaron on social media, in spite of the quarterback's disproven immunization claims. "Great @carrieunderwood side eye," one viewer tweeted. "We're only ten minutes into the #CMAawards and my favourite part of the show will be Luke Bryan talking about being immunized and then panning to Carrie Underwood after Mike Fisher's vaccine comments this week," wrote another. The 2021 CMAs ultimately saw Chris Stapleton lead with six trophies, including song, album and male vocalist of the year. The entertainer of the year honor went to Luke Combs.
Brooke Shields refused painkillers after horrific accident
After a gym accident in late January left Brooke Shields with a broken femur, she ended up having multiple surgeries — during which doctors inserted metal rods into her leg and hips — and developing a staph infection. Despite all of that, the 55-year-old star tells People she declined to narcotic painkillers the whole time she was healing. "I didn't want to leave the hospital with no pain, get home, and think I was dying, because the pain was excruciating," she explains, adding that she wanted to avoid opioids so as not to "feel sort of like a victim" to the pain. She says she also believes the opioid epidemic developed in part because of our society's approach to always taking the potentially dangerous drugs. Instead, she says she stuck to over-the-counter medication, plus ice, physical therapy and stretching. "[This] is not about being a hero," she cautions. "I was unnerved by what could have happened."
Why Justin Bieber's sobriety journey has been so 'difficult' for Hailey
Hailey Bieber is sharing more about what it's been like for her as Justin Bieber's partner while he navigates his sobriety. In a new interview on the "Victoria's Secret Voices" podcast, Hailey, 24, explains that while her husband is good about keeping lines of communication open when it comes to his addiction, walking through some of those issues with him has been challenging because of Hailey's previous experiences with loved ones. "There's a lot of addiction that runs in my family, not even just my dad [Stephen Baldwin], but a lot of other people on that side of my family struggle with a lot of different things," Hailey said. "My dad was always really open about [it] and I always appreciated that," she continued, adding that Stephen would talk freely with the family about things like "why being sober was what worked for him and why we needed to be sober and what alcoholic behavior looks like." Fast forward to her relationship with Justin, and she often found herself in familiar territory, not all of it good. "Looking back on times of drug use and being in some dark spaces and having to kind of go back there was extremely difficult," she admitted. "Being like, 'Hey, where are you at with this?' I've had times where I would get nervous, [asking him], 'Are you OK to do this? Because you did have a time in your life where it was not OK for you and it was a dark time for you,'" she explained. "But he has very good self-awareness when it comes to that and is very open about it and that's all I can really ask for." Justin started talking about his substance abuse a few years ago, when he revealed he spiraled out of control in 2013 and 2014. In 2017, his manager, Scooter Braun, told WSJ Magazine, "It was worse than people realized."
Matthew McConaughey clarifies kids' vax mandate stance
Matthew McConaughey's comments about COVID-19 vaccination mandates for kids during the New York Times' DealBook Summit earlier this week sparked consternation from some, including the U.S. Surgeon General. But as the actor clarified in an Instagram Story post on Nov. 10, he does not oppose vaccinating children in general — he's just not ready to vote for requiring jabs for kids in the youngest eligible age range. In fact, he said the eldest of his three children, Levi, is fully vaccinated. "When asked my opinion on the subject of children and vaccination mandates I stated, 'I couldn't mandate it for kids just yet.' What was not clear is that I was referring specifically to the 5-11 year old mandate," said Matthew, 52, according to People. "What is NOT true, and insinuated with the clickbait headlines since, is that I am against vaccinating children at all. This is false. In fact, our eldest 13-year-old son Levi is fully vaccinated for COVID-19." Matthew also said at the summit that he and his wife, Camila Alves, are both fully vaxxed. "I appreciate the ear and clarity," he concluded on Instagram, adding, "just keep livin'."
Aaron Sorkin defends casting Nicole Kidman as Lucille Ball
This week's release of the first full trailer for "Being the Ricardos," Aaron Sorkin's new look at the fraught personal lives of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, sparked a new wave of complaints about the casting. A good deal of that criticism has come from Debra Messing's fans, who've vocally opposed seeing Nicole Kidman as Lucy opposite Javier Bardem as Desi, calling out Debra's "uncanny resemblance [to Lucy] and comedic chops." But as writer/director Aaron told The Hollywood Reporter in a Q&A published Nov. 11, he wasn't looking for similar physical looks. "What I needed was someone who absolutely owns it … This isn't for beginners," he said, quoting Lucy. "We made this movie during COVID, and so in Zooming with Nicole and Javier and everyone else, I'd make it very clear to them that I am not looking for a physical or vocal impersonation of these people," he recalled. Aaron went on to compliment Nicole | 2,338 |
HomeEntertainmentConstance Wu First Asian Woman Nominated for Best Actress Comedy or Musical Golden Globe in Decades
Constance Wu First Asian Woman Nominated for Best Actress Comedy or Musical Golden Globe in Decades
December 6, 2018 admin Entertainment 0
Constance Wu is making history with her Golden Globes nomination!
On Thursday, the 36-year-old actress nabbed a Best Actress in a Motion Picture – Musical or Comedy nomination for her role in Crazy Rich Asians, marking the first time in more than 40 years that an Asian woman has scored the honor. The film itself was also nominated for Best Motion Picture – Musical or Comedy.
Prior to Wu, Yvonne Elliman was just the third Asian woman to score a nod in the category for her work in Jesus Christ Superstar in 1974. Miyoshi Umeki came before her, getting a nomination in the category for her role in Flower Drum Song at the 1962 ceremony. The 1956 awards show marked the first nomination for an Asian woman in the category, when Machiko Kyo was recognized for starring in The Teahouse of the August Moon.
If Wu winds up with the Globe this year — she's facing off against Emily Blunt, Charlize Theron, Elsie Fisher and Olivia Colman — she'll be the first Asian woman to win the category.
In a statement to ET, Jon M. Chu, the director of Crazy Rich Asians, expressed great excitement over both Wu's and the film's nominations.
"Can I put emojis in a quote? Because ❤️ Not in my wildest dreams did I ever think our movie would be<|fim_middle|> phone on Do Not Disturb Mode till now… I'm ecstatic but also in shock! Thank you @goldenglobes !!!
— Constance Wu (@ConstanceWu) December 6, 2018
In a tweet on Thursday, Chu revealed his method for getting the news to Wu. "I jumped up and ran around the couch with my baby this morning when I heard," he wrote. "Then I called you over and over until you woke up! So proud. So happy!"
I jumped up and ran around the couch with my baby this morning when I heard… then I called you over and over until you woke up! So proud. So happy! https://t.co/1N7rXFkXsQ
— Jon M. Chu (@jonmchu) December 6, 2018
In a second tweet, Chu called both Wu's and the film's recognition "the proudest moment" of his career.
"Look at the stars look how they shine for you and everything you do…" Proudest moment of my career. https://t.co/bs09wuz4CX
Wu reacted to Chu's sweet message, calling him "a true visionary and an extraordinary leader."
Love you Jon ❤️ You are a true visionary and an extraordinary leader ❤️ love love love https://t.co/tmNujzkKVL
The 76th Annual Golden Globes air Jan. 6 on NBC. Watch the video below for more on this year's ceremony:
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Netanyahu's Coalition May Help Stave Off Indictment | embraced to this magnitude by the audience and now the HFPA," Chu said. "What an honor to be included on such a beautiful list of diverse human experience stories amongst storytellers I have looked up to my entire life. I could not be more proud of our movie, our cast, our community and our industry. In response to Eleanor Young, we were always good enough."
Wu was delighted by Thursday's happy news, which she found out a bit after everyone else thanks to a technological mishap.
"What a morning to have had my phone on Do Not Disturb Mode till now," she quipped in a tweet. "I'm ecstatic but also in shock! Thank you @goldenglobes !!!"
What a morning to have had my | 151 |
"Appartment OG", 3-room apartment 53 m2 on 1st floor, south-west facing position. Spacious, comfortable and cosy furnishings: open living/sleeping room with panoramic window with 1 sofabed (120 cm, length 190 cm), dining table and satellite TV (flat screen). Exit to the balcony. 1 double bedroom with 1 double bed (2 x 90 cm, length 200 cm). Exit to the balcony. 1 room with 1 double bed (2 x 90 cm, length 200 cm), hand-basin. Small kitchen (dishwasher, 4 ceramic glass hob hotplates, electric coffee machine, Capsules for coffee machine(PADS) Senseo) extra). Bath/WC. Electric heating. Balcony 9 m2, south facing position and west facing position. Balcony furniture. Marvellous panoramic view of the lake, the mountains and the countryside. Facilities: iron, children's high chair, baby cot for up to 2 year olds (extra), hair dryer<|fim_middle|>giore such as Fosano, Piazzogna, Vairano, Casenzano, Caviano and Indemini (Italian border). The Riviera stretches from the foot of Monte Ceneri, over Magadino till the Italian border and on the east till the Monte Tamaro.Monte Gambarogno is situated in the heart of this area, ideal position for nature and sub tropical vegetation lovers. Cosy villages with a mild climate. Holiday resort directly by the Lago Maggiore. All shops, restaurants etc. in the resort.
Diving, sailing, surfing, water skiing. Tennis. Minigolf. Riding. Hiking paths. Mountain bike routes. Chestnut tree forests, vineyards and orchards. | . Internet (WiFi, free). Reserved parking (roofed, 1 car). Please note: suitable for families. Non-smokers only. Maximum 1 pet/ dog allowed. Fire extinguisher.
San Nazzaro 18 km from Locarno: Beautiful, comfortable small apartment house "Casablanca", 2 storeys, surrounded by trees. 3 apartments in the property. On the outskirts, in the district Gambarogno, in a quiet, sunny, elevated position, in the countryside, south-west facing position. For shared use: natural state property, terraced garden, swimming pool (above ground) angular (20.05.-20.10.) with internal staircase. Patio, pergola, garden furniture, barbecue. In the house: storage room for bicycles. Linen change (suppl. charge extra). Towel change (suppl. charge extra). Room cleaning on request (extra). Motor access to the house. Roofed, parking at the house. Walking paths from the house 10 m. Nearby attractions: Locarno-Ascona, Isole di Brissago, Mercato Luino, Ponte Tresa it, Mercato Cannobio IT, Swissminiatur, Melide, Schookoladen fabrik, Caslano. Well-known ski regions can easily be reached: Bosco Gurin, Nara, Airolo, Carì. Well-known lakes can easily be reached: lago Maggiore, Lago di Como, Lago di Lugano. Hiking paths: Monte Gambarogno, Monte Tamaro, Monte Lema, Gardada. Please note: car recommended. Suitable for families, suitable for seniors baby equipment on request (extra). There are more similar properties for rent in this same residence. Property ref. CH6575.25. Is situated on the same property.
200 - 700 m a.s.l. >>The Gambarogno Riviera consists of villages directly by the lake such as Magadino, Vira, San Nazzaro, Gerra, Ranzo, Dirinella (Italian border) and also villages above the lake Mag | 456 |
Miami apparently not ready to<|fim_middle|>," Mumme said.
Mumme remembered his first preseason camp at Kentucky when walk-on James Whelan hoped to earn playing time in the hurry-up offense that Mumme perfected.
Mumme said the first meeting with receivers, Leach was showing the players a play over and over on film. He just kept showing the play, stopping it halfway through and showing it again.
"Whalen loves telling the story, too. He told me," Mumme said. "Whalen is trying to take notes because he wants to make the team. Then Leach freezes the film and ask how many (players) had seen (the movie) Pulp Fiction. A bunch raised their hands."
That apparently was all Leach need to start asking questions like whether Samuel Jackson or John Travolta was the best character.
"Whalen was writing this all down thinking Leach was leading up to a code word for the play," Mumme said. "Leach goes on for about 15 minutes about what the plot was. Finally he looks at his watch and said, 'Well, let's get out on the field. We have to go.' Whalen said they never saw the entire play that whole time."
Mumme laughed and said Leach knew the offense would rep the play so much in practice that they would all know what to do without ever having seen the play on film.
Whalen went on to become an All-American in 199 when he had 90 catches for 1,019 yards and 10 touchdowns. He led tight ends nationally in all three categories and set the NCAA record for most receptions in a season by a tight end while becoming just the second UK player ever to have a 1,000-yard receiving season.
He played briefly in the NFL and NFL Europe. | trade Tyler Herro after all
John Calipari knows players have to be interchangeable
Hal Mumme says practice was "always fun" with Mike Leach around
Hal Mumme, left, and Mike Leach had some fun times at Kentucky.
During Hal Mumme's time at Kentucky, seldom were there many dull moments — especially when he had Mike Leach on his staff
Leach is now the head coach at Washington State and is still as quirky and creative as ever. That's one thing that has not changed.
Mumme was on Michael Bennett's radio show, "Just The Tip," earlier this week and I got to be part of the show. Mumme got to talking about what is was like when Leach was with him at UK first as receivers coach and then offensive coordinator.
"Leach hasn't changed much. Pretty much what see is what you get. Practice was always fun when he was around | 188 |
College of Health & Rehabilitation Sciences: Sargent College Center for Neurorehabilitation
Resources for Patients and Families
APDA Resource Center
Exercise Helpline
APDA "Let's Keep Moving" Webinar Series
Exercise App Could Revolutionize Treatment for Parkinson's Disease
"The data are clear: exercise helps people with Parkinson's disease. "Not only is exercise good for you but it slows the progression of disability," says Terry Ellis, a Boston University Sargent College of Health & Rehabilitation Sciences associate professor and director of the Center for Neurorehabilitation. "It may even slow progression of the disease."" Read the full article.
Cristina Colon-Semenza<|fim_middle|> together to develop a wearable 'soft' robotic suit, also called an exosuit, that can help with post-stroke recovery. " Read the Full Article.
Robotic 'exosuit' fixes stride after stroke
"'People who have had a stroke have trouble with dorsiflexion, or foot clearance,' says Terry Ellis, a physical therapy professor at the Boston University College of Health & Rehabilitation Sciences: Sargent College; they have a reduced ability to bend their ankle and lift their foot. When they try to plant their heel on the ground to walk, they instead 'drag their toes and their foot gets caught.' The exosuit counteracts that issue by retracting the cable attached to the shoe's tongue, applying a small amount of force to bring the toes up. When the wearer needs to take a step forward, the rear cable contracts to ensure their foot pushes off the ground, a movement called plantar flexion." Read the Full Article.
BU Neuroresidency Program Partners with Spaulding Rehabilitation
Sargent College's Center for Neurorehabilitation joined with Spaulding Rehabilitation Network's Medford Outpatient Center "in order to add a broader, extremely high-caliber, rigorous outpatient training across numerous neurological conditions," says Terry Ellis.
Terry Ellis Parkinson's Research Featured in Inside Sargent: "Take One App and Text Me in the Morning"
"Ellis's research has shown that exercise can help patients improve their walking ability, strength, and flexibility, and may even slow the disease's progression. But patients with Parkinson's aren't often referred to a physical therapist until years after their diagnosis, when function has begun to decline, Ellis says. Finding someone well versed in the disorder is difficult, especially in more rural areas, and patients' engagement in exercise typically declines once therapy is over."
Virtual Coach Helps Parkinson's Patients Stick with Exercise
New research from Terry Ellis, assistant professor at Sargent College and Director of the Center for Neurorehabilitation, has found that a virtual exercise coach was effective in helping individuals with Parkinson's disease adhere to a daily walking regimen. Read more.
BU Sargent College
Neurologic Physical Therapy Residency Program
BU Neurologic Physical Therapy Residency Program
BU Neurorehabilitation Facebook
BU Neurorehabilitation Twitter | Named Ryan Summer Fellow at Sargent College
The Ryan Scholarship provides three months of summer support for a Sargent PhD student engaged in research relevant to the mission of the
Ryan Center. University Trustee and Sargent Dean's Advisory Board member, Sharon Ryan, and her husband, Bob Ryan, endowed the Ryan Summer Fellowship in 2017.
Colon-Semenza was selected for this scholarship because of her scholarly achievements in the Rehabilitation Sciences program and potential to contribute significantly to physical therapy practice.
Soft Exosuit Research Featured in BU Today
"Lou Awad and Terry Ellis, both Sargent College of Health & Rehabilitation Sciences assistant professors of physical therapy, are part of the team behind the medical exosuit, a wearable robot that can help people who have had a stroke walk faster, farther, and more safely. Instead of Iron Man's titanium, it has breathable wraps made from proprietary materials, thin cables, and a series of small motors that help it mimic human muscles and tendons." Read the full article.
The Scientist: "Next-Generation Exoskeletons Help Patients Move"
"If they're both lucky and well-insured, stroke patients get a few weeks of inpatient rehabilitation therapy, says physical therapist Terry Ellis, who collaborates with Walsh and directs the Center for Neurorehabilitation at the Boston University College of Health and Rehabilitation Sciences: Sargent College. But with limited time, rehabilitation specialists focus on getting patients walking again in whatever way possible, often with the use of a walker, a cane, or a hard plastic 90-degree brace that keeps their weaker foot from 'dropping' as they lift it off the ground to take a step." Read the Full Article.
Boston Metro: "Boston researchers develop a robotic suit to help stroke patients walk"
"Stroke patients may soon be able to wear a robotic suit that can help them walk without a limp. Researchers at Boston University's College of Health & Rehabilitation Sciences and the Harvard School of Engineering worked | 398 |
Blue Mercury was recorded at the Experimental Television Center in July 1986. A year had gone by since making Bad Knees. After living in Owego, building hardware for the Center and developing my own synths at the same time, I had moved back to NYC in the summer of 1985. The west edge of<|fim_middle|> old Thread Waxing space in Soho. Though I didn't make too many installations, in part due to the fact that I stopped working soon after, and in part I didn't have the space or funding, they gave me the opportunity to allow myself to be a little bit more verbose, showing a good deal more of the body of work that went into the shorter recordings. Given the opportunity, it is now the longer versions that I try to show. | Park Slope was still a little rough, and I didn't have much space so I parked my system at a friend's loft in Soho above Arnolds Turtle. I had little work and no money, teaching at the Center for Media Arts, but I would take the train into Manhattan every day. I made a great deal of video, however for some reason, during this period I didn't record very much of what I generated. At the center we often saw recording as documentation of a real time process, one that could exist as performance without ever being recorded. A patch would go in, you would work and rework it, until finally you make a recording and then another and another. My edits, almost entirely, followed these sequential recordings chronologically, with a great deal of the documentation cut away. Even with all the imagery that I generated in Soho, all the patches, for some reason, I had left off the recording part of the process. I made one piece with Laurie Needell called Hymn to Re, there were a few other recordings on Spring Street, but at the time of writing this I have yet to look at any of it. Jeff, who's loft it was, had a straight cut editing system and it was here I edited Before the Flood.
After everyone left the Spring Street loft I parked my system with Hank Linhart at his apartment on North 13th Street in Greenpoint. Though I didn't get much recorded there either, Hank, Terry Mohre and myself would get together once a week and collaborate, video jam. I have fond memories of these sessions and one piece came out of it that I don't seem to have a recording of. I remember Jeff sold Hank his editing system (I sold Jeff's M3 to FVA), and Hymn to Re was edited on North 13th on Jeff's former decks.
Blue Mercury turned out to be recorded in a session that was my last trip to the ETC as a resident. Like Bad Knees I cut a super short 3 minute edit that I showed around for a while. Unfortunately there was an audio hum in most of the recordings from that session. I have filtered it out somewhat, but unfortunately the filtering limits the tonality of the sound track. The title was inspired from the first segment, after that the rest of the work veers toward a bloody place. I later made a 15 minute edit of this material for an installation (More than Blood) that was shown a few times, finally it evolved into a collaboration with Charlie Citron. We first showed it at Monte Video in Amsterdam and then in 1991 at the | 541 |
IBM<|fim_middle|>3366-9928
ntuq2018@gmail.com | Q Hub at National Taiwan University NEWS ABOUT LEARN DOWNLOAD RELATED CONTACT 繁體中文
IBM Q Hub at National Taiwan University
Sponsored by the Ministry of Science and Technology
Nature isn't classical, dammit,
and if you want to make a simulation of nature, you'd better make it quantum mechanical,
and by golly it's a wonderful problem, because it doesn't look so easy.
----Richard Feynman
"Simulating Physics with Computers", International Journal of Theoretical Physics, volume 21, 1982, p. 467-488
MIT Quantum Hackathon: iQuHACK 2021 Started on January 30th-31st (EST)
https://www.iquise.mit.edu/iQuHACK
iQuHACK (interdisciplinary Quantum HACKathon) 2021 is MIT's second annual quantum hackathon. We aim to bring people from a diverse set of backgrounds, including physics, computer science, and chemistry, together to explore improvements and applications of near-term quantum devices. As a part of iQuHACK, we are also hosting a workshop on Friday, January 29th. The workshop is focused on the properties and applications of NISQ devices, and is aimed at preparing you for the hackathon.
*Programming Language: If you are in the annealing division, you will use Ocean. If you are in the gate-based computing division, we highly encourage you to use Python and Qiskit.
IBM Q System Planned Maintenance on May 23
There is maintenance planned for our API services on Saturday, May 23 2020, from 8am-12pm EDT. During this time, services on IBM Quantum Experience will be unavailable, and all devices will be unable to retrieve or submit jobs.
We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to contact us.
IBM Quantum
CIEUSA-GNYC Webinar Event: Introduction to Quantum Computer Programming
Date And Time :
9:00 AM – 10:00 AM EDT
IBM Quantum Experience Challenges
IBM Quantum Experience Quantum Programming Challenges
Started on May 4th at 9am EDT.
NTU-IBM Q Review article
The Second Quantum Revolution with Quantum Computers
AAPPS Bulletin, Vol.30, No.1.
CHING-RAY CHANG, YEU-CHUNG LIN, KUEI-LIN CHIU, TSUNG-WEI HUANG.
NTU-IBM Q First Article
The first article using the "IBM Q Hub at National Taiwan University" by ITRI, National Tsinghua University, and National Taiwan University has been published in Scientific Reports.
Hybrid classical-quantum linear solver using Noisy Intermediate-Scale Quantum machines
Chih-Chieh Chen, Shiue-Yuan Shiau, Ming-Feng Wu & Yuh-Renn Wu
Open for application
The application of NTU-IBM Q system is now available.
From now, we will open the IBM Q 20-qubit quantum computing system (NTU-IBM Q System) to researchers from universities and academic institutions in the Republic of China (Taiwan) to apply. Please send the following application documents to IBM Q Hub at NTU (ntuq2018@gmail.com). Once the documents have passed the verification, you can start to use the NTU-IBM Q System. Welcome to join us!
NTU-IBM Q System Terms of use and Agreement
National Taiwan University launched IBM Q Hub at NTU
On 17 January 2019, the National Taiwan University (NTU) announced the launch of the IBM Q Hub at NTU in an opening ceremony attended by the Vice President of NTU, Prof. Ming Syan Chen, Vice President of IBM, Dr. Tze-Chiang Chen, Vice President of IBM Japan, Mr. Noly Morimoto, Global Business Development Leader of IBM Q Network, Mr. Kenneth Wood, Director General of Department of Engineering and Technologies at Ministry of Science and Technology (MOST), Dr. Shawn Shuo-Hung Hsu, President of Institute for Information Industry (III), Dr. C. H. Cho, Division Director of Industrial Technology Research Institute (ITRI), Prof. Yuh-Renn Wu, Principal Investigator (PI) of NTU-IBM Q Hub project, Prof. Ching-Ray Chang and other participants...
In the last few years, several developed countries are actively integrating National resources to push quantum computing strongly. In Taiwan, however, we still leave related works along in academic institutions separately. The interdisciplinary integration is necessary to catch up with global technoloy trends. Our mission is to form a strong-coupling research team through cultivating quantum computing talents, and seek international cooperation in order to reach quantum-technology establishment locally.
Self-made quantum computer
Cultivation of quantum computing talent
ICT Industrial transformation and upgrading
We finally started a cooperation with IBM and joined IBM Q Network. You can find connections through our center and available 20-qbit IBM Q system for computing.
IBM Q
IBM offers lots of learning materials. You can get started with IBM Q Experience, or continue implementing quantum algorithm through Qiskit.
CLICK TO IBM Q
Quantum Computing Online Curriculum
MIT xPRO online courses begins from introduction toward applications, and also walks through practical problems and implementation.
CLICK TO LEARN
03/2019 Terms of use and Agreement
03/2019 Application form
01/2019 National Taiwan University launched IBM Q Hub at NTU
2019 MOST GASE Summer Program: Quantum Technology---Q+
This six-week program will take place in Taiwan from June 17 to July 27. With introductory lectures and lab research, GASE aims to promote a broader understanding of quantum technology and artificial intelligence. Eligible participants of the program will be fully funded for program fees, travel insurance, and accommodation during the study period.
The application deadline is April 26, 2019.
02/2019 Airbus Quantum Computing Challenge
16-18/01/2019 NTU-IBM Q: Initial Workshop In Taiwan
Sponsor Agency:
No. 1, Section 4, Roosevelt Road, Da'an District, Taipei City 10617, Taiwan
Dept.of Physics/Center for Condensed Building R711
+886 2- | 1,349 |
This popular waist high gate with 36" P-Arm and passageway is mechanical 1 or 2 Way.
It is ADA compliant, and offers a more "open feeling" for either a 1-Way or 2-Way mechanical gate than other mechanical styles.
These gates are built for high traffic volume and crafted in 304 stainless steel. They're in service worldwide at stadiums and arenas, health clubs, universities and hospitals, and are ideal when you want reliable performance and the beauty and durability of stainless steel.
Key Lock overrides can be added an an option for both directions which offer flexibility in making changes later<|fim_middle|> to close in the space on the left and right sides if needed.
Weight is approximately 150 lbs.
Dimensions: 47" Width x 38.062" Height x 27.312" Depth (Base is 11"). | .
Portable units are available with a base plate, wheels for easy movement and a curved railing for lane creation. A waist high turnstile is offered as a companion to this gate as are posts and railing | 40 |
Since his debut in Carlo Collodi's 19th century children's book, Pinocchio – the wooden puppet who can walk, talk and get into trouble – has appeared in countless adaptations, from fine art and theater to radio, cinema and television. Always, the lesson is the same: Tell the truth, and you will find your way.
John Davies' take on Pinocchio, while it's not the first opera devoted to the innocent, nobby-kneed kid whose nose grows when he tells a lie, is certainly unique in that it's written expressly for children. Now onstage at Opera Central, headquarters of the St. Petersburg Opera Company, the one-hour Pinocchio not only deftly delivers the time-tested message – truth is good – it also provides young people with an amusing, entertaining introduction to a form of storytelling they most likely haven't run across before.
Appropriately, it's fast-paced and it's funny for those notoriously short attention spans. Here are Pinocchio, Geppetto and a sextet of characters both new and familiar, combining dialogue – sharp, to the point and easily-digestible – and furthering the story along with songs.
Wolf and Cat, two disreputable figures, conspire to kidnap the wooden boy and deliver him to the no-good puppet master Dr. Dulcamara. Wolf (bass Andrew Emery) and Cat (tenor Chris Romero) are played strictly for laughs, however – they recoil in terror when Pinocchio threatens to "tell their moms" – and their big duet is sung to a winsome melody from Mozart's Die Entfuehrung Aus Dem Serail.
It can be done with a teeny-weeny lie!
New to this version of the tale is the mechanical doll Olympia, imported by the author from Offenbach. Although she requires winding-up before she'll sing and dance, Olympia becomes Pinocchio's friend and ally. Portrayed by soprano Kathleen Farrar Buccleaugh, Olympia trills "In the spring, the little birdies" (also from Offenbach) and duets with Pinocchio on a vocally-graceful section of Perg<|fim_middle|> Johnson), while the other characters combine forces for selections from Don Pasquale, Don Giovanni, The Marriage of Figaro, La Cenerentola and others.
We'll try every day our best to be true!
Although seasoned opera-goers will recognize Die Entführung aus dem Serail.
Unlike adult opera, where love, loyalty and betrayal can (and usually do) lead to some sinister things, in Pinocchio – a sweet and entirely winning children's introduction to opera – the message is simple and direct, delivered as pretty, primary colors. | olesi's La serva padrona.
At the preview performance I attended, the schoolchildren could not get enough of it. They laughed, they gasped, they sat in rapt attention. At times, they sang along.
As the title character, mezzo-soprano Taylor-Alexis DuPont projects an air of guilelessness that perfectly captures the look – and sound – of an innocent who literally does not know which way to turn. "Pa, Pa, Pa," from Mozart's The Magic Flute, is performed as a tender duet with Geppetto (tenor Chandler | 123 |
From the Headmaster
From the Director of Pastoral Care
From the Director of Music
01. From the Headmaster
MR MURRAY GUEST
City to Surf
As readers of TAS Talks will see later in this edition, the 2019 City to Surf was the biggest and most significant yet for the TAS team. Some might have thought that the 2018 venture could not have been bettered at TAS, but it seems it could and everything from the number of competitors to the seamless organisation and great 'vibe' throughout the event this year showed that.
Every time that we see a huge take-up in a demanding event like this, and I will say the same for the other legs of the Awesome Foursome challenge, the message travels through our student body that testing your physical and mental boundaries is not only possible, it is a good thing and it gives entree to a community that thrives on it. That makes us a better place and it reinforces a school culture that we can all be proud of.
The 'Guns out for Tombsy' focus this year and the great efforts of the team doing the pushing added plenty to the run and the profile it received was reflected in the good motives for it. Getting behind, literally, one of our own speaks volumes for our culture and I was very proud of that too. It was done so naturally and with such good grace that it was clearly just something that we do here. The same message was passed on to me at the finish line by the Deputy Head of Masada College in Sydney who saw a group of our girls running past Cranbrook School on New South Head Road stop when they saw a small boy lost in the crowd. They took his hand and headed backwards to where help was available. He thought it extraordinary, but I am sure it is just what we would have expected.
Whilst our Coordinator of Service and Challenge, Jim Pennington, has rightly offered congratulations and thanks to the many who participated in and helped with the event, the reality that we all know is that this simply would not have been the success that it was without<|fim_middle|> and the mass pilgrimage of TAS runners for the City to Surf. Organised largely by the Sydney branch of the Old Armidalians' Union, around 140 of the TAS family gathered at a venue in York Street for a lunch that featured inspiring presentations from two prominent Old Armidalians; former Wallaby Richard Tombs and our first female Senior Prefect Treenie Osborne. It was a chance for past students and family to come together to reminisce, celebrate, catch up on school developments and hear the perspectives of two of their own and it did all those things well. I am grateful to the team in Sydney who continue to support their old school so well and I look forward to the next round of celebrations in Canberra this weekend.
Murray Guest
Monday 12 August HSC Trial Exams commence
Thursday 15 August Brent Sanders presentation
Friday 16 August Tezakayama visit
Tuesday 20 August AgQuip
NCIS Athletics
Wednesday 21 August AgQuip
Thursday 22 August AgQuip
125th Birthday Planning Meeting tonight Wednesday 14 August
If you would like to help us plan the P&F function for celebrating the 125th Birthday of TAS please feel free to come along to our weekly meetings. These will be held each Wednesday evening at 7pm in the Archdall Room (opposite the Dining Hall). We have one tonight. Please feel free to join us, all are welcome – food and drink are provided to get the creative juices going.
Brandy wanted for Christmas Puddings
The famous TAS P&F Christmas Pudding bake is coming up and prior to that we need heaps and heaps of brandy to soak the fruit in – this is what gives the puddings that spectacular taste!! If you can donate a bottle of brandy please either drop it in at Main Reception or contact Pudding Co-ordinator Heather Williams on [email protected]
Wednesday 11 September 7pm – P&F General Meeting
Saturday 19 & Sunday 20 October (TBC) – P&F Christmas Puddings
Saturday 16 November – P&F Celebration of the 125th Birthday of TAS
04. From the Director of Pastoral Care
MR ADAM WHALLEY
Cyber Safety and Digital Citizenship
With the current spotlight on adolescent use of technology and screen time, I think it is important that parents are aware of the School's approach towards digital citizenship and cyber safety.
The school currently uses JAMF software to allow or restrict what software is installed on student devices. JAMF provides IT staff greater control over settings and enhances the security of devices.
CyberHound is TAS' provider of internet security software that enables the School to restrict viewing of malicious content and generate reports when inappropriate material has been viewed or searched. CyberHound also enables staff and students to view the last 60 minutes of internet activity via Live View. These features are applicable when students are using the school Wi-Fi.
We are also rolling out an additional feature of CyberHound, 'RoamSafe', which allows IT to mimic the School policies in place on student devices regardless of the network they are using. This means our internet cut off times, bans on social media during school hours, web-based games etc cannot be accessed via hotspot or other networks.
Other approaches to maintain appropriate use of student laptops include:
Every student reading and agreeing to our acceptable usage policy
Extensive digital citizenship and cyber safety resources on Canvas
The banning of mobile phones during the school day
Download quotas
Internet cut off times
Restricting games and Netflix on laptops (depending on year level)
The provision of Netflix and gaming consoles in boarding common rooms
What can parents do to support your child?
Reduce your child's mobile phone data. TAS has no control over when or what is viewed on a student's mobile phone when they are using their own data. The Wi-Fi at TAS is excellent, and students do not need large data plans.
Limit screen time and encourage face to face interaction with peers.
Do not let students take their phones to bed with them.
Install accountability apps (some recommended below) on both student and parent mobiles, to monitor screen time on phones and laptops.
Family Zone – https://www.familyzone.com/au/families
Screen Time (Apple) – https://support.apple.com/en-au/HT208982
Google Family Link (Android) – https://families.google.com/familylink/
MRS SEONIA WARK
HSC Trial exams
Trial exams for Year 12 students continue and will conclude at the end of Week 5 (23 August).
A reminder that absences from an exam due to illness must be supported by a Doctor's certificate. Students are to notify Reception at their earliest convenience if they are unable to attend an exam and an Appeal Form must be submitted within 48 hours of returning to school. Refer to the Stage 6 assessment policy and contact Mrs O'Brien if you have any concerns about this.
Year 8 Parent Teacher Interviews
Year 8 Parent Teacher Interviews are scheduled to be held in Week 7 (5 and 6 September).
Information and the parent webcode to log in and make teacher bookings will be emailed at the end of Week 5.
Two Parent Presentations will also be held – one on Thursday evening 5 September beginning 6.15pm and a repeat session on Friday 6 September at 11.45am.
Tutoring in English, Maths and Science is available to students in Years 6 – 8 on Monday and Wednesday afternoons in the Library from 4 – 5pm. Students in Years 9 and 10 have the opportunity for tutoring in Maths and Science on Monday and Tuesday evenings from 7 – 9pm and English Tutoring on Tuesday and Thursday evenings from 7-9pm. Specialist Maths tutoring is also available to Year 11 and 12 students on Wednesday and Thursday evenings from 7 – 9pm in the Library.
Day students accessing specific tutoring sessions will be charged $15 per afternoon.
Tutors will keep rolls and the charges associated with these sessions will be added to TAS accounts each month. It is best, though not compulsory, for us to know if you want your child booked into these tutoring sessions. Families can do this by contacting Vickey O'Brien ([email protected] or 6776 5806) for more details. Year 12 students are not charged for HSC tutoring sessions.
Boarders attending these sessions must sign out of the house in the normal manner and return by the required time. There is no additional cost for boarders as out of hours' support is already part of the Schedule of Fees for 2019.
Day students are able to access dinner in the Dining Hall from 5:30pm and will do so by swiping their Student Card at the door. The cost associated with dinner (approx. $6 per meal) will be added to their TAS account.
Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday
Year 6-8 4pm-5pm
English/Maths/Science 4pm – 5pm
English/Maths/Science
Year 9-10 7pm-9pm
Maths/Science/English
(General assistance) 7pm-9pm
(General assistance)
Maths (All levels) 7pm-9pm
Maths (All levels)
Year 11-12 7pm-9pm
Maths/English
2020 CAS Hawker Scholarships
Applications for the 2020 Charles Hawker Scholarships open on Monday 9 December and close on 8 January 2020. An application form and further information about C.A.S. Hawker and the scholarship are available from www.hawkerscholarship.org or by contacting the secretary to the Trustees in Adelaide on 08 8127 1654.
Hawker Scholarships are valued at up to $60,000.00 over three years and are amongst the most generous, privately funded, residential scholarships available to Australian undergraduate and postgraduate students. Joint Australian of the Year Dr Richard Harris SC OAM recently presented 2019 C.A.S. Hawker Scholarships to four recipients at a function at St Mark's College in Adelaide.
There are a number of scholarships awarded each year. The Trustees offer them to capable students of principle and character who have demonstrated a commitment to the wider community. Selection is based on personal qualities as well as academic ability.
More information can be gained on www.hawkerscholarship.org
UAC Newsletter
Universities Admission Centre has posted it latest newsletter for your consideration. It contains the following topics:
ATARs Released Same Day As HSC
All 2020 Courses Online in August
UAC Pin Reminder Emails Coming Soon
Why Apply Through UAC
Changes To International Baccalaureate
Subject Compass For Year 10 Students Has Arrived
Educational Access Schemes Application Guide
It's Open Day Season
UAC Coming To A Town Near You
Key Dates For 2019–20 Admissions
Institution News
See link below for more details.
https://enews.uac.edu.au/t/ViewEmail/r/7D9CCDD4D447A5502540EF23F30FEDED/AF8098065DF0AE028BD4C707EBCCB890
Visits to TAS in the coming weeks
Cromwell College UQ – 4 September – Upper Maxwell
Principal Mr Ross Switzer will be visiting the school on 4 September to speak interested students about residential life at the University of Queensland. Any Year 11 or 12 students considering UQ as an option for further study I recommend you come and listen to the presentation.
University of Newcastle (UON) – 5 September – Hoskins Theatre
Kate Krajewski from the UON will be it TAS on 5 September to talk to interested students about studying at UON. We generally have a large amount of interest from students about studying at UON so if you have been considering UON as a destination for your tertiary years please come along.
Brian See from UNE will visit TAS during Week 6 so assist students with UAC, Early Entry and residential college applications. This has proved to very useful in the past. It will be conducted during the students' Advisor group time in Week 6. Final arrangements will be publicised amongst the students.
Mr Mark Taylor
Careers Advisor
Cadets - Activities Day 5 (16 August)
Activities Day 5 will be held on Friday 16 August. All cadets will attend an activities briefing on Tuesday 13 August and will be informed about the required equipment. All cadets will be dismissed following final parade at 5.00pm on Friday afternoon.
Parents of students or student leaders in B Company should have received a permission form for school firearms safety training. It is important that these forms (or a current Minor's Permit) are returned to the school either by mail/fax or by email to Miss Emma Channon in order for your child to participate in these School activities.
1 & 2 Platoon – Kayak touring on Clarence River near Copmanhurst; 1 & 2 Platoons will meet for roll call at 3.30pm, departing at 4pm on Thursday 15 August. A night kayak paddle and overnight bivouac will be conducted, and students will require overnight gear as specified in the list below.
3 Platoon – Advanced First Aid training at TAS.
4, 5, 6 & 7 Platoons – Firearms safety training (Non-Australian Army Cadets, TAS Rifle Club conducted activity), navigation, first aid and bush cooking to be conducted at 'Loch Abba' property. No overnight activities.
8, 9, 10 & 11 Platoons – Navigation, fieldcraft, bush cooking and abseiling to be conducted at 'Newholme' property and Baker's Creek Gorge. No overnight activities.
Cadet equipment for kayak tour: 1 & 2 Platoon only
Dress during the kayak tour exercise is appropriate wet and cold weather clothing and water shoes suitable for kayaking. Note that all equipment must be able to be carried in pack only – no webbing will be carried on the kayak trek. Sleeping bag may be carried externally to pack. Required equipment includes:
Back Pack (issued)
Kidney Cup*
Jumper Camo (issued)
Change of dry clothes, underwear & socks
3m hootchie cord/rope/'occy strap'*
Pegs x 4*
Sleeping bag* & Mat*
Olive Green thermal undershirt*
Toiletries bag (soap, toothbrush + paste etc)
Wet gear (swimmers, shirt & shorts)
Cadet bush hat*
Commanding Officer Cadets
Smooth seas do not make skilful sailors
Putting your hand up to travel to Sydney to run the City2Surf, on top of your regular weekend sport in Armidale and Sydney, would seem like madness to most. However, TAS students are conditioned to overcome challenges that others would not even attempt.
It was an amazing team effort with a wonderful sense of community. Like all good teams, there was an inspirational leader and I join many others in extending my thanks and praise to Jim Pennington for his unbelievable organisation and encouragement. For a full picture of the event I commend Jim's report to you.
Perhaps symbolically, the five bus-loads of exhausted students crawled up the snow-covered Moonbi Range late Sunday night, reaching the summit only minutes before the highway was closed. Nothing worth doing is easy and all those who participated have conquered their own mountain and are stronger as a result of the experience.
City 2 Surf
Last Sunday's City2Surf has demonstrated yet again, not just what sensational students we have here at TAS, it has shown us all that teenagers do care, they are not all dominated by technology and that empathy and compassion remains at the core of their values. Despite so many families suffering cruelly under the hardship of drought, our students and their community chose to give back to one of their own. Running under the banner of 'GUNSOUTFORTOMBSY' they have supported not just Richard, but his family during this difficult time.
Upon meeting Richard, the manner of their interactions, the kindness and respect they revealed was immense. What was most evident was their genuine desire to help. For those students who volunteered to push Richard throughout the race, knowing that it would make their own time more difficult, thank you. To Remy Taylor, Lily Neilson, Jack Sewell, James O'Brien, Clancy Roberts, Lucas Cotterell, Oliver Kearney, Isabella Gooch, April Draney, Mr Michael Forsythe (OA and Richard's halfback in 1985), Mr Tim Hughes (staff) and Mr Pat McMillan, I am in awe of you. Your selfless act of wishing to help another is the most beautiful trait.
Congratulations must be extended to Mr Andrew O'Connell (staff) for being the first of the TAS contingent to cross the line in 55:25, with Mac Orr (Year 9) just over a minute behind in 56:41. The TAS student record of 56:12 looks to be under serious threat from Mac in the forthcoming years. Chloe Vanderwolf (Year 11) was the first female to cross the line, leading the charge of 72 females competing this year. The sheer number of students running created an almost blanket coverage of blue at numerous times throughout the race, including two girls from the Junior School, in sisters Mosie (Year 5) and Mila (Year 3) Wright.
I must thank all the staff who gave up their weekend to travel, support, manage and run the 14km as well as those staff at school who worked tirelessly to ensure the success of this year's event. This unique buy-in from the staff at TAS, across all spheres, is the key to these amazing experiences.
With CurtainUP falling on Tuesday night I have had to wait until this week to praise the HSC Drama class for an incredible, exciting and polished showcase. A fascinating range of pieces were on show, from the ridiculous and silly to the confronting and mature, and I know the audience was engaged from start to finish. The HSC Drama students submit their film projects in Week 6 and do their performances in Week 7 and we wish them the very best for their final preparations.
We have seen a number of achievements in the last week from students in the Music program. Disa Smart was selected for a cello position in the Australian Honours Ensemble Program at the Brisbane Conservatorium, with special mention to her instrumental tutor Sofia Debus Heart Strings Studio. And Delta Hawkins heads for a week with the Moorambilla Voices outback choir – this is the tenth year that she will sing with Moorambilla, a choir that brings together 300 boys and girls from isolated NSW. Finally, a congratulations to all those students who have completed their AMEB exams this week – check the Music section for more information about their fantastic achievements.
On Friday we have the children's professional touring production The Twits in the Hoskins Centre at 1:30pm. I know all of Junior School will be in attendance but any very young ones might want to be brought along as it promises to be a wildly fun and colourful show.
And any Visual Arts students passing through Tamworth should keep an eye out for ArtEXPRESS, a showcase of some of the top works from the 2018 HSC Visual Arts from across the state. The showcase is on until 22 September at the Tamworth Regional Gallery so keep that in mind if you're going for a drive.
To view images from CurtainUP please visit the TAS photo gallery.
CurtainUP
Australian Honours Ensemble Program - Congratulations Disa Smart
Congratulations to Disa Smart who has been offered a place in the Queensland Conservatorium Griffith University Australian Honours Ensemble Program 2019. This is a wonderful achievement for Disa, as there were over 1,000 applicants and all of those had already been vetted and recommended by their teachers.
Disa has accepted a cello position in the Australian Honours Ensemble Program (a national youth orchestra) which is held at the Brisbane Conservatorium. This is a unique opportunity for students to work in an intensive environment of musical excellence with their peers. Disa is a student of the Sofia Debus Heart Strings studio and is currently preparing for her HSC Music 2 and Music Extension performance examinations.
AMEB Exams
The AMEB exams are being held at the New England Conservatorium of Music (NECOM) at the moment and we wish all our TAS students sitting their exams all the best. We like to celebrate the achievements of music students so please let us know the outcome of your AMEB examinations. If you would like us to publish AMEB results in TAS Talks please email Mrs Edmonds at [email protected]
Save the Date for the 'Final Note' Concert on Tuesday 27 August at 6.30pm
Our HSC music students are busily rehearsing their repertoire in preparation for upcoming HSC trials next week and the final performance exams. Many people might not be aware that HSC Music students have their final performance examinations later this term where they will perform up to six instrumental or vocal pieces in front of the HSC examiners. As part of the preparation for these final performance examinations, HSC Music students will perform their repertoire at the 'Final Note' concert being held in the Hoskins Theatre on 27 August at 6.30pm. The Final Note event is not to be missed, so be sure to save the date in your diaries.
Ms Leanne Roobol
Director of Music
Deke Sharon at TAS
Deke Sharon is an American singer, arranger, composer, director, producer and teacher of a cappella music and is one of the leaders and promoters of the contemporary a cappella community and a pioneer of the contemporary a cappella style. He has been referred to as "the father of contemporary a cappella" by Entertainment Weekly. Deke is visiting Australia and will take time out from his busy schedule to visit Armidale……. don't miss this once in a lifetime opportunity for music educators and students to work one on one with this extraordinarily talented musician and teacher.
Deke has his a cappella fingers in many pies, arranging music (Broadway's In Transit), music directing movies (Pitch Perfect 1, 2 & 3), and producing television's The Sing Off (US, Holland, China, South Africa), music directing BBC's Pitch Battle, directing professional groups (Vocalosity), performing (TotalVocal at Carnegie Hall), coaching (Lifetime's Pitch Slapped) producing albums (Straight No Chaser) and events (Camp A Cappella), publishing arrangements with Hal Leonard, while teaching and promoting a cappella worldwide.
Early Adolescence
As well we know, adolescence is 'that stage' when young people undergo many physical, emotional and social changes. It can be a challenging period for many parents who may discover their once biddable child begins to resist their authority for the first time. Their once happy son may now be a little withdrawn, or a formerly friendly daughter may become rather more challenging to please. Children: they're not silly; they'll always test those who value them most, because they know you'll stay around and do your best to broker their awkwardness. It can be a difficult time for young people. Not quite kids and not fully fledged as adolescents, they are caught in a type of limbo. It can also be a sad time for young people. Many look back and realize that they can never really be 'carefree little kids' again, yet looking ahead they can be apprehensive, knowing that adolescence will present them with its own peculiar raft of challenges.
This particular stage can provide a window of opportunity for families. It is a time to help prepare your child for adolescence, and even adulthood. Parents and staff must maintain a relationship based on mutual respect and shared interest. It is also a time to help children get on the right track at school before learning challenges become too great and developing adolescents simply 'give up' rather than appear inadequate in front of their peers because they tried and failed. It is the start of a period of challenging, thoughtful support and management of these people. I've said this before and I'm going to do it again, we're 'in this one together' – so, any help you can give will be reciprocated at this end. I've been heartened of late with some parents coming to see or call me with comments or concerns – this indicates that Middle School life is, well, normal actually. Our on-going communication is suggestive of mutually dependent support systems and this, in turn, presumes that shared information needs to be 'warts and all' communication.
When it 'comes to the crunch' these young people are deserving of our support, of a little breathing space, of acceptance even when we sometimes don't understand, or don't want to understand. Granted, I know that dealing with them can be frustrating occasionally but, more often than not, it is fascinating as well. They can make you laugh, encourage you to see things clearly and simply (not simplistically!) and on their good days they just make your days less 'fraught'. I don't often write like this – perhaps that's a good thing, but as we begin to navigate the middle of the year, we need to remind ourselves of what's good about what we do around this very, very busy school. Looking out for their needs and interests is what's really good about being around this wonderful, prickly, precious, grunting and exacting group of people. They're worth the effort; at the very least, they're going to be looking after us one day.
Leaving School Grounds – reminder about Absentees & Leave Request
This inclusion constitutes a reminder to all students and families about the correct procedure to follow when Middle School people leave the school grounds during school hours (8.45am to 3.30pm). If students have an appointment or are leaving the school grounds for any reason during school time they must sign out and sign back in upon their return – electronically, of course, using the i-pad in Mrs Robyn Frost's office. Students are aware of procedures as they've been reminded of same during the Middle School Town Meeting assemblies. This procedure ensures that the 'school' knows where the students are at all times. I am writing in the first instance to seek your help. As indicated, I have spoken to all boys and girls about absences from School. It is a NESA requirement that all absences are explained. A note or email from parents explaining the absence is required when your child returns to school or on the day of his / her illness. If illness extends four consecutive days, a medical certificate is to accompany a student's return to school. As you know, we require you as parents and carers to complete leave requests if you need to take your child out of school for an upcoming planned absence. (Medical/Dental appointments do not need leave request forms.) Application forms for exemption from attendance are on the school website and are to be emailed to [email protected] or handed in to the Middle School Office for approval by the Head of Middle School. Please note: medical leave notwithstanding, leave cannot be taken until a certificate for exemption from attendance at school is received.
They're amazing these people and some, it seems, are impervious to extremes – of weather, as a matter of fact. However, we are not: if you're the people responsible for day students, please could you ensure that these children are prepared for extremes. Today, after the snow, being the second lot in as many days, is just very cold. There's no embellishment here – it's just very cold. Boarders will be sent to get jumpers if they are outside because this is not the weather for clothes debates. In no way do these comments 'fly in the face' of what appears above – sometimes we just know what's best.
There's nitrogen in that snow.
Tezukayama visit next week – TAS/TEZ Junior School BBQ on Wednesday 21 August
This weekend, on Saturday 17 August, we welcome our guests from Tezukayama Gakuin School for their visit to Armidale. Without the billeting support from our parents, this exchange would not be possible and we thank them all for their generosity. Please note that we will be holding a Farewell BBQ on Wednesday 21 August in Junior School, with music, games, jumping castle and you are all warmly invited. There is also a final assembly on Tuesday 20 August in the Hoskins Theatre which will be a special moment when our schools join together. For more details, please see the program that is attached.
TEZ Program
Jump Rope for Heart
All Junior School students should have brought home a welcome letter last week to remind them of our important and valuable fundraiser for this term. I encourage all families to have a look at the following link with the idea of encouraging our students to get involved in Jump Rope for Heart (https://www.jumprope.org.au/parents). We have a growing number of fundraisers and I congratulate them on their efforts. You will see additional information from Mrs Wright later in this edition.
Activities Day No 4 – Book Parade
This Friday will be another busy day with Junior School participating in a number of special activities. During period 1, you will have received notice of the Book Parade in the Hoskins Centre and all are welcome. This is followed by classroom activities, preparing for Tezukayama and then all of Junior School will be attending a puppetry performance of Roald Dahl's The Twits in the Hoskins Theatre…what a great way to end the week.
Sport in Junior School
I was lucky to see a few events at the recent PSSA Athletics and what a great day it was (as opposed to last weekend's Saturday sport…..) You will see the results mentioned by Mrs Wright (especially for Mohammed Almokhtar, Charlie Ward and Millie Coupland in Yr 6) but I would like to add how pleasing it was to see students from all Schools getting on so well. On another note, well done to all our students and courageous supporters for their performance on Saturday. While is was good to see a little moisture around, did it have to be accompanied by that wind? You will see some great reports about how well the season is going in the Sports section.
Mehleen Sandhu, Hugh Blackwell, Liam Hoad, Levi Watts, George Drain, Edward Gillman, Ruby Ogilvie, Sophie Brett, Norah Al-Qahtani, Harry Brownlie, Sophia White, Tom Rowe and Archer Starr.
Many happy returns for their special days go to Arabella Blanchard, Ellen Adams, Rebecca Billingsley, Patrick Bourke and Freddie Post.
Premier's Reading Challenge (PRC)
Thank you to those children who have returned their Premier's Reading Challenge log books. The wide range of books being read for the challenge is really impressive!
Please be aware that there are only three more weeks left of the PRC. I would like all completed reading logs to be handed into the library by Monday 26 August (Week 6 of the term). If you have finished now, please bring your reading log with you to your library lesson and give it to Mrs Allan or myself.
Children are allowed to return and borrow new library books throughout the week before and after school and during lunchtime with their teacher's permission.
I congratulate the eight students who have completed the challenge for this year already. There are many children very close to finishing, so I encourage you all to keep on reading to achieve your goal.
Happy reading everyone!
Mrs Natalie Ramazani
PRC Co-ordinator
Wednesday 14 August Year 1 Assembly – Hoskins Centre (2.45pm)
Friday 16 August Activities Day 4 – including Book Week Parade (8.45am) Hoskins
Saturday 17 August Tezukayama Gakuin Elementary School (TEZ) arrive
Tuesday 20 August NCIS Athletics (Coffs Harbour)
Wednesday 21 August TEZ Farewell Assembly (All welcome) 2pm Hoskins
TEZ BBQ – JS Undercover area from 5.00pm
Thursday 22 August TEZ depart (morning)
Wednesday 28 August Transition Assembly – Hoskins Centre (2.45pm)
Friday 30 August Father's Day – Sausage Sizzle and lunchtime games (12.25pm)
Wednesday 4 September Year 2 Assembly – Hoskins Centre (2.45pm)
Saturday 7 September STEM Academy Open Day (12.3opm)
Thank you to those wonderful 11 children who have registered for Jump Rope for Heart. We only have 10 days left until our Jump Off next Friday, 23 August so any extra support for this great fundraiser would be appreciated.
Thanks for taking action to help your child be physically active, healthy and learn some awesome skipping skills! At the same time, they'll be giving back to the community by raising money to help fight heart disease. To make fundraising fun and easy, you can create your own secure webpage at www.jumprope.org.au
Sign up to share your child's progress and let the funds roll in. Your child can earn virtual badges along the way and your page will highlight the prizes up for grabs. Happy Skipping!
Physical Culture
Two weekends ago we travelled to Toowoomba for our first interclub competition of the year. This competition gave the girls the opportunity to compete against numerous Queensland clubs. It was a great day and wonderful to see such strong team spirit from the Armidale girls. Maya Slade's age group has particularly hard choreography and it was great to see her remember it all and enjoy being on the floor. Peyton Slade danced well and got a second place. Both girls are working hard in class towards our next interclub in Armidale in several weeks time.
PSSA Results
Official results and ribbons have now come through from the PSSA association. Congratulations to the following students who competed well on the day.
10 yrs 100m – 3rd Sam Ford (15.43)
11 yrs 100m – 3rd Oliver Goudge (15.32)
Junior Long Jump – 1st Mohammed Almokhtar (3.32m)
Junior Discus – 3rd Mohammed Almokhtar (19.01m)
Junior Shot – 3rd Sam Ford (7.21m)
Senior Long Jump
1st Millie Coupland (3.44m)
2nd Tempe Macarthur Onslow (3.37m)
11yrs Discus – 1st Charlie Ward (20.32m)
11yrs Shot – 3rd Charlie Ward (7.71m)
NCIS Athletics - 20 August in Coffs Harbour
Invitations to compete in the NCIS Athletics Carnival have been sent out last week. Please ensure you take into account which events you have been nominated for and whether you would like to compete in this competition. All permission notes should have now been handed in to Mrs Lasker or Mrs Wright.
TAS Navy
Well last week we saw the importance of strategies in a game. We have been working on corners and passing in training. Instead of hitting the ball directly at the goalie when trying to score, they are now quickly passing to another player before shooting, moving the goalie out of the way. We have also encouraged players not to hit the ball out when they are close to our goal resulting in us then having to have a short corner. It was a training session on strategies, strategies, strategies.
I am delighted with Ryne Wilkinson's improved skills and he was particularly chuffed when he scored his first goal for the season. Jack Wood was an excellent goalie and Xavier Leary, Sam Ford, Hugo Broun, Joe Fenwicke were our sensational forwards.
I am pleased to say that they boys are really encouraging others, which is impacting on their game. The final score was 5 – 1.
Mrs Lana Hawksford
The TAS Go team braved the very cold and very windy weather on Saturday for our game. The ASCS Diamonds were thrown by our cleverly crafted code words and quick feet. Our defence really had to step up as we were a few players short. The TAS team impressed with their perseverance in pretty tough conditions. It is clear how much they love the game and enjoy getting out there and having a go even against very stiff competition!
Mrs Anna O'Connor
TAS WHITE U12s
On Saturday, TAS White faced the wind, rain and sleet to play football against Armidale City Blue. In the first few seconds the opposing team scored a goal and we knew we were going to be up for a fight. In the next few seconds Blake passed the ball to Will who passed it onto Mohammed who was able to score. The score was 1-all at the end of the first two minutes of play!! The game continued to be close and we remembered to call for the ball and take care with our passes. Unfortunately, we had to accept defeat; but we played well and did our best. Thank you to Andy Hardin for stepping in to play with us on such a cold morning and Peter and Hugo, our mighty Year 4 supporters.
By Katie Hynes (Year 5) | his leadership and I offer our collective thanks and congratulations to him for another wonderful job.
Curtain Up and Stitch-In-Time
The first of our HSC creative showcases was staged last Tuesday evening with great fanfare and a big and energised crowd on hand to enjoy the work of both our textiles and drama students. The Hoskins foyer was adorned with the major works of our very first HSC textiles class and they impressed. Each of the ensembles on show was an expression of personality and I think that peers and teachers alike would have been able to link the outfits with their makers without any problem. It was very encouraging to see the interest of younger students and I look forward to seeing that grow into future textiles classes.
In the theatre, our actors joined with fellow drama students and dancers from PLC to put on a big, eclectic and entertaining show. Individual and group performances rotated through the evening, with the more mature content available in the drama curriculum retained for the Senior School session after intermission. The Creative Arts practical examinations are distinguished from other HSC exams in being marked in front of peers, parents and teachers and there can be no doubt about the courage of these young performers as they get out and do their thing in front of their peers. Even in the face of this social and academic pressure, their confidence, composure and creativity was quite striking and I congratulate them and their teacher Andrew O'Connell on the polished final products of their year.
Cello Honours
I offer special congratulations to Year 12 music student Disa Smart on her recent success in being awarded a cello position in the Australian Honours Ensemble Program, a national youth orchestra, at the Brisbane Conservatorium. This elite program attracted over 1,000 applicants, all talented young musicians who had already been vetted and recommended by teachers, making Disa's selection a significant achievement. Disa, who is taught through Sofia Debus Heart Strings Studio, is clearly on an impressive trajectory, having won the open instrumental championship and the Conservatorium Shield for the most promising instrumentalist of 2019 at the Tamworth Eisteddfod and I look forward to seeing what comes of her cello career in the years ahead.
Quasquicentennial Celebrations
The celebration of our 125th anniversary as a school continued last weekend in Sydney, alongside sport at Riverview, the annual general meeting of the TAS Company | 489 |
We have dinner planned for you this week! With 6<|fim_middle|> Seduction in the Kitchen is just the thing! | family friendly recipes and a fun dessert treat!
Whew! We survived #AppleWeek and #PumpkinWeek. Now I need a good month or two to catch up on making all of the fun recipes I collected along the way. Which ones were your favorite? Did you see anything you just have to make?
To be honest, I am ready for a nap after all of that. But there is no rest for the wicked and there are a lot of fun things coming up so I have to prep and cook some more. This week I will be making desserts for a friend's son's wedding rehearsal. I am really excited about it! Next week we'll be celebrating all things chocolate here on the blog. After that we are hosting sanctioned events here at the house... there are spots on the plaque up for grabs two weekends in a row. That has never happened before. So needless to say, the gloves are coming off and it's time to get serious!
In the mean time though, we have to eat. So here is what's for dinner!
We'll kick things off with this Creamy Roasted Garlic Penne Pasta from Mildly Meandering. That's a pretty good way to start the week if I do say so!
Next up we'll enjoy some Pulled Pork Enchilada Verde Soup. It's a great way to get the flavor of enchiladas without the work!
We are sure to enjoy some Baked Beef and Mushroom Rotini from New South Charm.
Don't these Best Baked Beans from Baking With Mom look delicious?! Mmmm, so good!
Lastly we'll enjoy some Chicken Spaghetti from Recipe Treasures. What creamy comforting goodness!
After a long week, we'll need a treat. A Honey Baked Cinnamon Apple from | 360 |
We have been following Victoria's work for a while now, weeks ago we talked to her about our Inspired By Project and we offer her this space to share her artwork. This is the way Style Marmalade got Inspired By We Love Colors.
Since a young age Victoria has been interested in fashion and art, overlapping both passions in everything she does. Almost 4 years ago she started a personal style blog that with the time evolved into a virtual art gallery for those that love fashion.
" I don't have formal art or fashion education. I've learned everything by getting my hands on any medium I feel attracted by. About over a year ago I started making fashion collages with photography where I involved textures, so I started working with yarn<|fim_middle|> even power to keep going and of course creating.
We are so happy to have her creating these images for us. For you all. | , painting and glitter mainly.
The artist behind Style Marmalade find in art a escape to though moments in her life, it becomes something therapeutical that brings her back energy and | 38 |
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Tadpole shrimps in Namibia's puddles
inke - 27. November 2018 - Environment
This triops or tadpole shrimp is just a little less than seven centimetres long. As yet the living fossils have not been researched in detail. According to current knowledge the tadpole shrimp found in Namibia is of the species Triops granarius, which also occurs in South Africa and northern Africa, China and Japan. Whether the animal on this photo is in fact of that species has not been proven.
Dirk Heinrich
In arid areas it often does not rain for years. When rain finally comes down in the form of light showers the parched soil absorbs the moisture immediately. Plants and animals barely benefit from the few millimetres of water which evaporates fast. But if the rain happens to be brief and vigorous, life seems to explode. After just a couple of days, for example, animals resembling tadpoles are frolicking in puddles.
The eggs of tadpole shrimps, or triops, can survive in the dusty soil of arid areas for years. The young shrimps hatch when heavy rain showers leave pools of water which do not dry out within a few days. These living fossils have inhabited the earth for more than 250 million years. They are a genus of small crustaceans in the order Notostraca. According to the Namibia Biodiversity Database, only two species are known in Namibia: Triops cancriformis, the tadpole shrimp, and Triops granarius.
When asking Prof. Michelle Hamer, the Director of Biosystematics & Research Collection Initiatives at the South African Biodiversity Institute (SANBI), about these shrimps it transpired that almost no research has been conducted in southern Africa so far. It has not been established for certain which species occur in this part of the continent. Triops granarius, which is found in Namibia and South Africa, also occurs in China and Japan, the professor said. DNA tests, conducted on a few specimens some time ago, showed that there should be four different species of tadpole shrimp. However, too little research had been done on too limited a number of specimens, she said. For scientific examination, triops would have to be collected in numerous places in Namibia alone. Apparently the South African 'species' is closer related to tadpole shrimps in Tunisia than to those in Namibia.
Little is known about these crustaceans. They probably feed on live and dead animal matter, and they grow rapidly in their temporary ponds. Since these living fossils are hermaphrodites they reproduce asexually and sexually. They seem to be depositing vast quantities of eggs which are<|fim_middle|> were barely distinguishable from the tadpoles. Many years ago I found hundreds of triops in a large pool of water in the Kuiseb Canyon. There are no records yet about where exactly in Namibia these interesting creatures occur.
At first glance, triops or tadpole shrimps may be confused with tadpoles which are often found in the same temporary pond. It is not known which species has been captured in this picture.
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GDRP Compliance | then lying in the dry soil for years, waiting for favourable conditions to return. Larvae, so-called nauplii, apparently only hatch from some of the eggs at a time, however, to ensure survival of the species in emergencies.
In April this year I discovered numerous triops, together with tadpoles, in a puddle at a picnic spot on the C35 road between Kamanjab and Ruacana. At the first glance the prehistoric shrimps, which are up to seven centimetres long, | 109 |
Home » Dine in Style » Snow Season Farmer
Snow Season Farmer
Feher Grows Microgreens All Winter Long
Written By: Michelle DeLong | Images: Megan Peterson
Miniature, healthy greens ranging in hue from bright, electric green to deep, earth emerald sprout from soil trays, stacked together on the wooden shelves of what used to be an old water pump shed. Alex Feher, a full-time farmer at Huidekoper Ranch, transformed the lifeless old shack into a greenhouse that supplies microgreen varietals like sunflower, radish, shiso, cabbage, and kale to numerous restaurants in the valley. In winter months, when fresh local greens are scarce to none, Feher can hardly keep up with demand.
Microgreens, which have gained popularity in recent years for their nutritional value and interesting flavor profiles, are actually seedlings. Feher explains many suppliers grow them hydroponically, but he prefers to plant them in soil like he would any other crop. This "tougher" method makes the greens more susceptible to rot and pests, but produces better flavor, color, and nutrient density, he says.
His methodology is no surprise, since Feher doesn't tend to take any easy shortcuts. His childhood dream of becoming a farmer was rekindled when he took a permaculture class after earning a bachelor's degree in environmental studies.
Following an apprenticeship at Greyrock Farm in upstate New York, Feher took a snowboarding break in Jackson. He began working at the Aspens Market<|fim_middle|>2015 in an effort to bring a variety of heavy music to the Tetons, including everything from heavy metal to gothic/folk country to outlaw bluegrass. "I love heavy music with a passion," Feher says. "I love the technicality of the musicianship, the profoundly poetic lyrics, the melody, the beauty within the chaos."
Feher has big plans for the music festival, for expanding the ranch's production, and for learning more about foraged and medicinal plants. His approach is always intense and intentional, like the music he loves so much. "We can all do better," he says. "We should all be stewards of this land, this Earth."
Previous Story: A Jackson Tradition | in 2015 and soon he was growing microgreens there in response to customers' demand for local produce.
rally (it ended up being canceled, but Feher didn't get the memo) led Feher to meet his current ranch manager, Nate Fuller, and Nate's brother-in-law, Brent Tyc. Fuller's grandmother, Virginia Huidekoper, once ran the first garden in Jackson that sold to restaurants, and both Fuller and Tyc longed to grow food on the ranch. Feher was the perfect man for the job, and they brought him on board to start an organic vegetable farm, before Feher migrated his microgreen business to the ranch in 2016.
A love for permaculture and heavy music might seem a bit contradictory at first, but it's impossible to put Feher in a box. When he's not getting his hands dirty at the ranch, he is busy planning the next Fire in the Mountains Festival, which Feher and his buddy Jeremy Walker started in | 208 |
This is a list of online pathway databases.
BioCarta was founded in April 2000 to become the leading developer, supplier and distributor of uniquely sourced and characterized reagents and assays for biopharmaceutical and academic research.
WikiPathways was established to facilitate the contribution and maintenance of pathway information by the biology community. WikiPathways is an open, collaborative platform dedicated to the curation of biological pathways. WikiPathways thus presents a new model for pathway databases that enhances and complements ongoing efforts, such as KEGG, Reactome<|fim_middle|> The freely available PATRIC platform provides an interface for biologists to discover data and information and conduct comprehensive comparative genomics and other analyses in a one-stop shop. PATRIC is a NIH-NIAID -funded project of Virginia Tech's Cyberinfrastructure Division.
The Biological General Repository for Interaction Datasets (BioGRID) is a public database that archives and disseminates genetic and protein interaction data from model organisms and humans.
GeneMANIA helps you predict the function of your favourite genes and gene sets. GeneMANIA finds other genes that are related to a set of input genes, using a very large set of functional association data. Association data include protein and genetic interactions, pathways, co-expression, co-localization and protein domain similarity. You can use GeneMANIA to find new members of a pathway or complex, find additional genes you may have missed in your screen or find new genes with a specific function, such as protein kinases. Your question is defined by the set of genes you input.
The European Macrophage and Dendritic Cell Society (EMDS) has emerged from the activities of the former European Macrophage Study Group (EMSG), a loose association of scientists interested in basic and clinical aspects of monocytes, macrophages, dendritic cells and other myleoid cells in man and experimental animal models.
MacGate is a publicly available resource focused on divergent gene regulation in human and mouse macrophages. The website displays expression data generated from a custom microarray, which were specifically collected and analysed to investigate divergent gene regulation in response to lipopolysaccharide (LPS), a component of Gram-negative bacterial cell walls that stimulates inflammatory responses via Toll-like receptor 4.
OMICtools is a free metadatabase for genomic, transcriptomic, proteomic, and metabolomic data analysis. All tools have been classified by omic technologies (NGS, microarray, PCR, MS, NMR). OMICtools is expected to serve as a useful didactic resource not only for bioinformaticians, but also for experimental researchers and clinicians. | and Pathway Commons.
The National Cancer Institute (NCI) in collaboration with Nature Publishing Group has established the Pathway Interaction Database (PID) in order to provide a highly structured, curated collection of information about known biomolecular interactions and key cellular processes assembled into signalling pathways.
PID is aimed at the cancer research community and others interested in cellular pathways, such as neuroscientists, developmental biologists, and immunologists. The database focuses on the biomolecular interactions that are known or believed to take place in human cells.
LINNEA™ Pathways is a collection of 248 detailed, interactive maps of interconnected biological signalling and metabolic pathways. These maps have been created for Invitrogen by GeneGo, a company that develops analytical tools, data content, and algorithms for understanding complex biological system pathways.
PRiME's main goals are to develop data-based models for the response of human dendritic cell to pathogenic viral infection, and to provide education in computational immunology to researchers from various research fields. PRiME is an NIAID funded project.
MACPAK is a knowledge-base dedicated to compile the information of macrophage signal transduction pathway and their dynamics. Macrophages are distributed in peripheral tissues where they eliminate invading exogenous substances and are therefore responsible for innate immunity. They trigger acquired immunity by capturing exogenous antigens engulfing them in cellular lysosomes. Significant progress has been made recently in understanding the biochemical mechanisms by which lopopolysaccharide (LPS) activates immune cells, particularly macrophages by analyzing quantitative microarray time course data.
LIPID Metabolites And Pathways Strategy (LIPID MAPS) is a multi-institutional effort created in 2003 to identify and quantitate, using a systems biology approach and sophisticated mass spectrometers, all of the major — and many minor — lipid species in mammalian cells, as well as to quantitate the changes in these species in response to perturbation.
The immune system is a complex machinery, which is based on the highly coordinated expression of a wide array of genes and proteins. Internet resource called Immunome was constructed for the characterisation of the human immune system. Immunome contains information about immunity related proteins, their domain structure and the related ontology terms. Information can be found also about the localization of the coding genesand their comparison with the existing mouse orthologs. In addition links to the ImmTree database are also included for phylogenetic trees for orthologs from 104 species.
The Immunological Genome Project (ImmGen) is a collaborative scientific research project that is currently building a gene-expression microarray database for all characterized immune cells in the mouse. The overarching goal of the project is to computationally reconstruct the genetic regulatory network in immune cells. All data generated as part of ImmGen are made freely and publicly available.
The ImmPort system provides advanced information technology support in the production, analysis, archiving, and exchange of scientific data for the diverse community of life science researchers supported by NIAID/DAIT.
The Institute for Systems Biology is a nonprofit biomedical research organization based in Seattle, Washington.
BloodExpress integrates 271 individual microarray experiments derived from 15 distinct studies done on most characterised mouse blood cell types. Gene expression information has been discretised to absent/present/unknown calls.
The Innate Immune Database (IIDB) is a repository of genomic annotations and experimental data for over 2000 genes associated with immune response behavior in the mouse genome. A specific focus of IIDB is on Toll-like Receptor (TLR) genes, which are key components of innate immunity.
The Immune Modeling Community Web Portal. This website features news and resources relevant to investigators interested in immune response modeling for infectious disease research. The purpose of the website is to facilitate collaboration and exchange information (including data, models, publications, events, funding opportunities) among researchers interested in using, developing and validating mathematical models of the immune response to infectious diseases.
The Human Protein Reference Database represents a centralized platform to visually depict and integrate information pertaining to domain architecture, post-translational modifications, interaction networks and disease association for each protein in the human proteome. All the information in HPRD has been manually extracted from the literature by expert biologists who read, interpret and analyze the published data.
The interactions include direct (physical) and indirect (functional) associations.
This database contains expertly curated molecular and biological information on genes proven to affect the outcome of pathogen-host interactions. Information is also given on the target sites of some anti-infective chemistries.
PATRIC is the Bacterial Bioinformatics Resource Center, an information system designed to support the biomedical research community's work on bacterial infectious diseases via integration of vital pathogen information with rich data and analysis tools. PATRIC sharpens and hones the scope of available bacterial phylogenomic data from numerous sources specifically for the bacterial research community, in order to save biologists time and effort when conducting comparative analyses. | 1,018 |
What kind of crazy person pulls the super-rare 429 Cobra Jet big-block out of a 1971 Mustang convertible, and installs a Boss 429? "I'm not sure because I was not that person," Kirt Fryer says. Kirt does own the car, which was getting loads of attention at the Mid-America Ford & Shelby Nationals in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Mustang people had to know this 1971 model was a modified, especially with eight Hilborn fuel-injection stacks on top of the engine, the wild interior with exotic carbon-fiber, and 17-inch American Racing wheels. Fryer is a Tulsa area local who is well known in the<|fim_middle|>," according to Kirt. The serpentine belt system is part of the modern build. The Hilborn injection system is electronic.
The 1971-73 Mustang community has bequeathed guru status upon Kirt Fryer. How do we know? He's just owned so many of these cars and knows so much about them.
The car won the modified class at the Mid-America Ford & Shelby Nationals in June 2016. Other than the hood scoop, though, the body is not modified. Ford offered the big-block in the Mustang for the last time in the 1971 model year. | Mustang world as a connoisseur of performance 1971-1973 Mustangs. That explains why he can quickly spout off production figures for Ford's last model year of the big-block Mustang convertible. Ford built nine of them with the four-speed transmission and 23 with the automatic—for a total of 32. Perhaps this is why Fryer just couldn't pass up this 1971 model, one of the nine four-speed cars, in a trade with another 1971-1973 guru and collector, Mickey Grafia, of Louisiana.
Both men knew the provenance. Drew Alcazar, today of Russo & Steele Collector Automobile Auctions, but formerly the owner of Concours Restorations in Rancho Cucamonga, California, had found and done a ground-up restoration of this Mustang rarity many years ago.
The paint color is Medium Blue Metallic, which is the stock color. Kirt Fryer did not have to repaint the body.
Kirt bought an extra-flat hood and cut a hole to install a Boss 429 scoop.
The last Mustang big-block convertible was the 1971 model. It's amazing that just 32 were built.
The surprising modifications included replacing the original 429 CJ with a 429 stroked and bored to 540 ci and backing it with a five-speed Tremec transmission. Inside, the previous owner added carbon-fiber floor panels, a carbon-fiber dash, and more comfortable seats, which Kirt does not know the origin of.
When Kirt came across a Jon Kaase-built custom Boss 429, he got an idea. Why not drop this engine in the '71 convertible? He had always heard the bigger engine bay of the 1971-1973 series Mustang would hold a Boss 429, but had never seen the combination. At least this installation answered the fitment question and created a what-if car with historical interest. "I had to do a little bit of work on the steering components, but the engine bolted up to the stock motor mounts, no problem," Kirt says.
This blue top fits very well with no wrinkles.
Kirt obtained this 1971 convertible in a multi-car deal. The car had already been highly modified inside and under the hood. Had Ford put a Boss 429 in a 1971 Mustang, they might have used the signature Boss 429 hood scoop. Our guess is this car will go back to stock one day due to its extreme rarity and collector interest. But for now, Kirt says it's a fun driver. He actually drives and enjoys his 1971 Boss 429, which nobody else can say.
The interior is "quite modified," according to Kirt. Carbon-fiber is spread liberally throughout the cab—dash, console, and floorpans. The steering wheel is a Grant 3-spoke.
Jon Kaase Racing Engines of Winder, Georgia, built the Boss 429 engine that Kirt had come across in his car dealings. Jon's build started with an aftermarket aluminum Boss 429 block sourced from CNC Motorsports. Jon installed their own aluminum head that is a replica of Ford's head, but with a conventional head gasket, instead of the exotic O-rings. Jon's Boss 429 also has modern serpentine belts and the Hilborn fuel-injection system. The unknown person in California who did the modifications chose the Tremec five-speed that spins a set of 3.50:1 gears in the original N-cased 9-inch rear end with Traction-Lok. "The car is really fun to drive. It's got lots of power," Kirt says.
Kirt could not give us any quarter-mile times. He doesn't put this classic on the drag strip. It's purely for cruise and show. We have to think that one day either Kirt or a future owner will put this car back to stock. A big question is what happened to the original, matching-numbers 429 Cobra Jet? After all, a 1971 429 Cobra Jet Mustang convertible is worth some serious bucks. Apparently, the engine is lost. If anybody out there has a clue where the engine is located, contact me at my "Rare Finds" email, and we'll do a special report on finding it.
The back seat appears stock.
Carbon-fiber inserts accent original door panels.
American Racing wheels are 17 inches in diameter. The suspension is factory stock, except for the larger wheels and tires.
Ford's Vehicle Certification Label on the driver's door reveals the "J" code for the 429 Cobra Jet.
The Boss 429 is still an option for car builders today, thanks to Jon Kaase Racing Engines, who built this Boss 429 to run on pump gas. It delivers 800hp "all day long | 1,041 |
Farmers face problems at Kotkapura grain market
Farmers at Kotkapura grain market, especially in the cotton yard near the main market, are a harried lot in the wake of lack of basic facilities. There is no toilet, no drinking water and no shed where farmers can keep their produce to save it from rain and sun.
"There is nothing in the name of facilities<|fim_middle|>, Kulbir Singh Matta, secretary, market committee, Kotapura, admitted that the cotton yard lacked basic facilities. "We are trying to provide more facilities," he added.
Faridkot deputy commissioner Ravi Bhagat said, "I will instruct the market committee officials to provide basic facilities to the farmers."
About gunny bags, he said, "We will have enough bags by the evening. A consignment is reaching us from Kolkata."
"I will personally supervise the procurement process in the district on Sunday and sort out all the problems," he assured. | ," laments Jagseer Singh from Bhana and Surjeet Singh from Sikhan Wala village, sitting under a temporary shed.
The situation in the main market is no better either. There are only four toilets in the whole market spread over about 100 acres. The water taps too are far and few and farmers find it difficult to leave their produce behind unattended in case they wanted to drink water.
Kotkapura grain market is hub of cotton producing farmers.
As per sources, the government charges about 2% market fee and 2% rural development fund, which accounts for about Rs 50 per quintal of wheat. Still, the market committee had failed to provide facilities to the farmers.
"As per government instructions, the bidding for the procurement should occur twice a day-in the morning and evening. But the purchase agency officials generally visit in the evenings while we keep waiting throughout the day," says Mohan Lal Palta, secretary of federation of arhatiya association, Punjab.
"We have received about 52,000 gunny bags on Saturday, which would suffice only for a couple of days," he says.
"If the produce is procured, the bags are unavailable and if the bags are filled, then there is problem of lifting. These problems keep on bothering us," says Sanjay Mittal, joint secretary of arhtiya association, Kotkapura.
The lifting of produce is another problem in the grain market here. The lifting has been given on contract but the contractor has allegedly shifted the responsibility of lifting on arhtiyas with their consent. Because of the labour shortage, the arhtiyas are finding it difficult to carry out unloading, cleaning, filling the bags and then lifting.
"Actually, lifting of the produce is the responsibility of the contractor. But he has shifted his responsibility on us. We are facing labour shortage," said an office-bearer of Kotkapura arhatiya association on the condition of anonymity.
"Had the labour of my commission agent not been engaged in the lifting work, my produce would have been cleaned and sold by now," said a farmer from Nanaksar village.
"We want sufficient supply of gunny bags. Most of the procurement agencies do not have sufficient gunny bags. It is a big problem," said Ashok Kumar Goel, general secretary of Arhtiya Association, Kotkapura.
When contacted | 486 |
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2008 Mercedes-Benz SLK-Class Review
by U.S. News Best Cars Staff | February 25, 2009
Note: This review was created when the 2008 Mercedes-Benz SLK-Class was new.
In addition to its surprisingly smooth ride and sports-car handling, the SLK's power-retractable hardtop<|fim_middle|> N/A
Excellent handling with a ride that's especially smooth for a sports car
Power-retractable hardtop is quick and easy to use
High-quality interior with good fit and finish
Cockpit can be cramped for two adults
Snug interior offers few storage spaces
Some find interior controls overly complicated
See full 2008 Mercedes-Benz SLK-Class specs »
All Exterior Photos »
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2008 Mercedes-Benz SLK-Class Overview
The 2008 Mercedes-Benz SLK is a fun-to-drive convertible. Its power hardtop gives it all the practicality of a coupe along with the open-air exhilaration of a roadster. Redesigned in 2005, the second generation SLK is described by Car and Driver as the "sweetest-handling Benz ever" and "an everyday please-me machine."
While the SLK's strengths are its quick-folding steel hardtop and luxurious interior, its weakness include a small cabin and little cargo space -- but that's to be expected for this class. With a base price just under $45,000, the SLK may be inexpensive for a Mercedes -- but it still commands a premium. Less expensive hardtops include the Pontiac G6 and Mazda MX-5 Miata. However, when compared to such luxury (and pricey) rivals as the Porsche Boxter and Chevrolet Corvette, the SLK could be a good value.
Mercedes-Benz's smallest sports car comes in several trims. The base SLK280 features a 3.0-liter V6 engine and a six-speed manual transmission, while the SLK350 gets a 3.5-liter V6 and a seven-speed automatic. Though it's not addressed in this review, a performance-minded SLK55 AMG is also available.
"For what it is, the SLK hits on all the important notes with a standout look, good drive dynamic and luxury amenities that you expect from a Mercedes." -- AutoWeek.
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Calculate 2008 Mercedes-Benz SLK-Class Monthly Payment Which Cars You Can Afford? | gives it an advantage over soft-top sports car convertibles and makes for a unique coupe/roadster experience. Still, it falls a bit short on its interior space and controls.
Critics' Rating: 8.5
Performance: 8.3
Interior: 7.3
Safety: | 62 |
Bob Graham, Florida's former<|fim_middle|>, is unmatched.
Shaw currently represents House District 61 in the Tampa area. After attending law school at the University of Florida, he clerked for a federal judge, then worked in private practice representing workers, families, and small businesses.
He "led the process of negotiating lower rates for homeowners, pushed for faster response times from insurers after emergencies, and ensured rates were fair and justified," a news release said. | Governor and U.S. Senator, on Monday endorsed state Rep. Sean Shaw to be the next Attorney General.
The two Democrats appeared at a news conference in Miami.
Graham mentioned Shaw's father, the late Florida Supreme Court justice Leander J. Shaw Jr., as a "pillar of the legal profession in Florida." He appointed Shaw, who went on to become the state's first black chief justice, to the court in 1983.
His "service on our state's Supreme Court was a model in what it means to use the law as our great equalizer," Graham said in a statement. "Sean Shaw is the embodiment of the values his father put into action each day.
Shaw returned the favor, saying "there is no one who towers larger than Gov. Bob Graham. His dedication to standing up on behalf of every Floridian, protecting our environment for generations to come, and commitment to good government that answers to the people, not the powerful | 195 |
I have a fun and easy breakfast recipe to share with you all today<|fim_middle|> banana and mix in the eggs, cinnamon, and flax seed. Once combined, scoop onto skillet and flip once golden. Enjoy and serve with almond butter, fruit and/or maple syrup! | - protein pancakes! As the school year is back in full swing, mornings have gotten busier and there is less time to make a fun and creative breakfast. So, I have been looking for some healthy and unique breakfasts beyond oatmeal, smoothies, and toast. While those are great options, it is also nice to think outside the box and switch recipes up. Additionally, it is important to eat a protein-rich breakfast before school and sports, so you are full and fueled for the busy day ahead. This recipe is both creative and filling, and takes maybe 1/4 of the time it takes to make traditional pancakes!
As always, please share with others if you liked this recipe, and enjoy!
To start, heat the coconut oil in a medium skillet over medium heat. In a separate bowl, mash a | 166 |
Many people work with children/youth who engage in self-injurious behaviour; however few really feel comfortable or knowledgeable about the issue and in turn refer the child/youth for psychiatric consultation. Self-harm can be a<|fim_middle|>• Understand the warning signs and the attitudes and myths around self-harm.
• Learn how to identify those at risk, learn how to approach youth who self-harm, and develop a range of treatment strategies to help.
AUDIENCE: The training is for professionals and caregivers who want to feel more comfortable, confident and competent in helping to deal with children/youth who engage in self-harming behaviour. | way of coping with problems; a way to express feelings that can't otherwise be articulated; it is used to mask or release emotional pain. Self-harm provides an immediate solution with serious harmful outcomes.
Thourgh this training you will learn more about the issues, empathetic listening, problem-solving skill building, and effective assessment and treatment intervention for self-injurious behaviour in order to be prepared for children/youth that approach you about their self-injurious behaviour. The importance of adequate preparation in this area of concern is crucial to assessment, treatment and referral of children/youth who engage in self-injury.
• This training will provide you with the tools to work with children and youth who self-harm.
• Learn about the issues surrounding self-harm, understand why youth do it and how to bring this behaviour under control.
| 167 |
How to Get Rid of Chicken Skin: Derm-Approved Keratosis Pilaris Treatments
By Kristi Kellogg
If you look like you have an eternal case of the goosebumps (regardless of whether or not you're actually cold), you might be suffering from a completely harmless but nonetheless annoying condition called keratosis pilaris (commonly referred to as chicken skin thanks to the keratosis pilaris' resemblance to a featherless chicken). We talked to leading dermatologists to learn more about keratosis pilaris and how to treat it. Read on for the ultimate guide to understanding and dealing with chicken skin.
What is the cause of keratosis pilaris?
"Keratosis pilaris forms due to tiny plugs of natural skin proteins (called keratin) that heap on top of each hair follicle, causing tiny, rough, pink or dark polka dots on the skin," explains Stanford-trained dermatologist Laurel Naversen Geraghty, who regularly shares her best skincare tips on Instagram. "This condition is most common in people with dry skin or eczema, and it's genetic."
If you have keratosis pilaris, you're not alone. Forty percent of adults are also wondering "why do I have chicken skin?" And while there is no cure, keratosis pilaris does tend to improve with age. Geraghty says she seems keratosis pilaris most often in children, adolescents and young adults, but not nearly as much in older patients. It's even possible to simply grow out of it. In children, for example, keratosis pilaris often develops on the cheeks but clears as they grow.
Where can keratosis pilaris occur?
Keratosis pilaris commonly occur on the arms, shoulders, thighs, upper back, and buttocks. It's less common, but they can also appear on the face. The bumps can be flesh-colored or red, and can be accompanied by swelling.
Is keratosis pilaris painful?
Keratosis pilaris is never painful, or even itchy. It's completely harmless and benign. "If your skin is itchy, be suspicious that you have eczema instead," says Geraghty.
How do you get rid of keratosis pilaris?
Wondering what can help chicken skin? While there's no cure, there are things you can do to to soften your skin and mitigate redness. Here, a few dermatologist-approved strategies for combating keratosis pilaris.
1. Lotion with Urea or Ammonium Lactate
"One of the best ways to soften keratosis pilaris is with an over-the-counter lotion containing urea or ammonium lactate, ideally smoothed on twice every day. These topical creams contain gentle acids that leave skin softer and smoother," explains Geraghty. Try the AmLactin's line of lotions with ammonium lactate, and or Udderly Smooth Extra Care Cream with urea.
2. Differin
"Over-the-counter Differin gel is marketed for acne, but it contains a mild retinoid called adapalene that can help slough off rough skin papules. Use only a small amount (and be sure to apply plain moisturizing cream on top) or you could end up rashy, red, or irritated. Prescription versions that are even more potent and effective include tretinoin (often called Retin-A) and tazarotene," says Geraghty.
3. Cortisone Cream
Cortisone cream can help temporarily reduce the redness that can come with the condition. Try a prescription cortisone cream such as Triamcinolone 0.1% Cream. After a week or two, you should see a temporary reduction in redness.
4. Laser Treatment
A pulsed dye laser can also be effective at reducing redness caused by keratosis pilaris, but the effect will only be temporary. Due to the skin's genetic tendency to form keratosis pilaris, it's likely that the pink color will return with time.
5. Off-Label Scalp Treatment
Detroit-based dermatologist Linda Honet, M.D. suffers from keratosis pilaris personally, and her outside-the-box solution is to apply Restorsea Revitalizing Scalp Treatment to her keratosis pilaris. "The beauty of Restorsea and the enzyme in it—which is extracted from salmon—is that is has selective exfoliation, meaning it<|fim_middle|>, the goose-bump like condition just can't be sloughed off.
Instead, practice gentle skin care. Geraghty advises people with keratosis pilaris to cleanse with a mild, nondrying soap, and to also use thick, plain moisturizer, since dry skin can exacerbate the condition.
Is there anything that looks like keratosis pilaris but is really something else?
There are some conditions that can masquerade as garden-variety keratosis pilaris, but are actually a variant of keratosis pilaris or a different issue altogether, Geraghty explains.
Keratosis Pilaris Atrophicans Faciei
With this variant of keratosis pilaris, affected people not only have rough pink bumps on the brows and cheeks, but also have thinning of the outer eyebrows.
An infection of the hair follicles caused by bacteria or other germs can sometimes resemble keratosis pilaris, but this condition is usually temporary and treatable.
Lichen Spinulosus
Lichen spinulosus is a rare condition where a bunch of tiny rough bumps appear suddenly on the skin. Lichen spinulosus can be particularly severe and widespread in people with HIV.
Rash Caused by Chemotherapy
A rash resembling keratosis pilaris can form in melanoma patients who are treated with the chemotherapy drug vemurafenib.
How to Prevent Chapped Lips and Dry Skin in the Winter
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Topicsdermatologistskin
Glamour Beauty
Makeup ideas, product reviews, and the latest celebrity trends—delivered straight to your inbox. | only exfoliates the dead skin layers and doesn't cause irritation like glycolic acid or even sting," Honet says.
"As dermatologists, we often try a lot of products as long as they do no harm, off label," she says. "I used the scalp treatment for many scalp conditions for my patients and had gotten amazing results. So I thought, Wow, if I can get such amazing results with the scalp, which is a tough area to treat, maybe it will work on keratosis pilaris, which is a very difficult skin condition to treat. I tried it on myself and realized, 'oh this is pretty good!'"
Honet applies two or three spritzes of the product on her palm and rubs it onto her upper arm, repeating on her other arm. "I let it dry for about a minute or two, and then I layer it with some good moisturizer or body butter," she says.
What can make chicken skin worse?
Over-exfoliating is a major don't for anyone with keratosis pilaris. "Don't go crazy exfoliating! Gentle scrubbing with a soft loofah or gentle body scrub is OK, but I see many women who go to town trying to scrape off bumps with harsh scrubs, pumice stones, and other exfoliating products, only to wind up scratching and traumatizing their skin - without getting results," says Geraghty. Plain and simple | 298 |
5 ideas about a movie: Daddy's Home 2
The Christmas season at the cinema continues. This is the review of Daddy's Home 2.
IMDb summary: Brad and Dusty must deal with their intrusive fathers during the holidays.
Two weeks ago, a mother-daughter Christmas-themed comedy sequel has premiered – A Bad Moms Christmas. Daddy's Home 2 is a father-son Christmas themed sequel. Coincidence or a conscious decision to target both genders? How about just making *gasp* one movie that everyone could enjoy? Anyways, onto the review.
Back in 2015, the first Daddy's Home film completely skipped my radar. I don't think I even heard any coverage about it or seen an ad for it. Nevertheless, before going to see the sequel, I streamed its predecessor and found it to be a slow and silly but watchable comedy. Thus, I didn't have any expectations for a sequel and was actually pleasantly surprised, as Daddy's Home 2 felt like an improvement.
The movie's script was written by John Morris and Sean Anders, who also directed the film (the duo also worked on the first picture as well as on a bunch of B level comedies before). The story was fine. Firstly, I liked how this movie (and the first one too) spotlighted a non-nuclear family – a reality that a lot of people can relate to today. The doubling up of the parental competition worked well too (or tripling up if you count the moms' plotline, which was basically what Bad Moms have already done). The family issues that were explored had some heart to them and the film's attempt to put a comedic spin on the emotional moments was fairly successful.
Speaking about the jokes of the movie in general, they were a mixed bag (as usual). Daddy's Home 2 had some brilliant moments of humor (the thermostat joke was my favorite and the nativity scene wasn't bad either) and some jokes that just didn't land. There were some product placement-related jokes and some fun celebrity cameos. As this film dealt a lot with the concept of family, its humor was generally more family-friendly and less raunchy that the humor of a lot of modern comedies.
The film's direction was okay. The cabin setting felt a bit Grown Ups-esque (a.k.a. actors wanting a vacation), while the pacing wasn't perfect – the picture slowed down a lot its third act. The callbacks to the first movie (the airport setting, the repetition of Ferrell's character supposed death) were fun to spot. The musical number at the end was cute. Lastly, that pandering to cinemas ending was either a great meta-references or a super forced and out of place way to end the film. Can't decide yet.
Will Ferrell and Mark Wahlberg (Patriot's Day, Deepwater Horizon, Transformers 4 and 5), came back as the co-dads at the center of the picture and were good. I've never been a fan of Ferrell but his comedic skills are growing on me (might give his other Christmas comedy Elf another chance). On the other hand, I've always liked Wahlberg in comedies and action-comedies (Ted 2), so I was just happy to see him in another one. The dads of the dads were played by Mel Gibson (who was actually hysterical to watch; plus, I guess this means that he is back, not only behind the camera (Hacksaw Ridge) but in front of it too) and John Lithgow (who was kinda jarring to watch in a comedic role cause he is engrained on my brain as Churchill on The Crown). Other cast members included Linda Cardellini and the celebrities/non-actors like John Cena, Alessandra Ambrosio, Chesley Sullenberger (Sully) of all people.
In short, Daddy's Home 2 was a perfectly serviceable but messy Christmas comedy that is more suitable for the whole family that the female version of the same film – A Bad Moms Christmas.
Trailer: Daddy's Home 2 trailer
November 16, 2017 November 16, 2017 Lou Tagged a bad moms christmas, action comedy, allessandra ambrosio, bad moms, bad movies, chesley sullenberger, christmas, christmas comedy, christmas film, christmas movie, churchill, cinema, cinema review, comedic, comedies, comedy, comedy movie, daddy's home 2 review, daddy's home review, daddys home, daddys home 2, deepwater horizon, elf, festive comedy, film, film review, film reviews, filming, films, grown ups, hacksaw ridge, hot tub time machine, humour, john cena, john lithgow, john morris, jokes, linda cardellini, mainstream, mark wahlberg, mel gibson, motion picture, motion picture review, movie, movie film, movie preview, movie review, movie reviews, movies, patriot's day, sean anders, sequel, sully, ted, ted 2, the crown, the last knight, themed comedy, tom hanks, transformers, transformers age of extinction, we are the millers, will ferrell 5 Comments
Movie review: Pixels
I hope you are ready to travel back to the 1980s because this is the review of the Pixels. Enjoy!
To begin with, I think that this movie wasn't as bad as I was led to believe by a lot of reviews from my most trustworthy critics. It wasn't a flawless film but it definitely wasn't the worst Sandler film and that's saying something. Well, not really. Let's just continue with the review.
Even before reading and watching the reviews of Pixels, I had my own doubts. One of them is the fact that Pixels is a Sony film, and, with the recent developments within the inside of that company and a track record of terrible films (if you mess Spider Man up for the 3rd time, the nerds won't allow the 4th time to happen), I was worried how this movie will turn out. The other doubt inspiring thing is the the main start of the motion picture – Adam Sandler. His movies have been getting worse and worse, almost all of them were financial flops and didn't earn any praises from the critics and fans alike. Personalty, my favorite Sandler's films are Bedtime Stories and the Grown Ups. Both of them were also panned by the critics, though, I found them enjoyable as a 12 year old. However, 6 years later I can't say the same about Pixels.
IMDb summary: When aliens misinterpret video feeds of classic arcade games as a declaration of war, they attack the Earth in the form of the video games. Pixels feature film is actually based on a French animated short film with the same name by Patrick Jean.
The premise of the film was genius and had a lot of potential. We have seen films based on video games, but never have these movies actually acknowledge that the games are real and alive. For example, if you take the Need for Speed film (review), you can see that they never talk about any games; they just set their movie in the same world that the game's action takes place or maybe they borrow some characters and stories from the game. But Pixels goes full on gaming mode and includes a plethora of old games (Centipede, Donkey Kong, Tetris, Pac-Man). They were definetely trying to make the old arcaders feel nostalgia. However, I do believe that they were also trying to appeal to the current gaming community. Gaming channel are huge on YouTube – just look at PewDiePie.
The fact that the movie includes a wide variety of different games begs for me to mention the product placement portion of the film. A few times, I really felt like I was watching a commercial. They should have been more careful with the commercial and merchandise side of the film.
Personally, I'm not a huge gamer. I remember playing Super Mario on an old Terminator 2 console (also know as Nintendo with yellow cartridges) in the early 2000s. Terminator 2 was the Eastern European version Nintendo Famicom. Yes, even when the Cold War ended, life was still hard for people, living in post-Soviet Union countries. On a side note, even though 25 years have passed, I still feel the division between the west and the east today. However, the Internet helps to remove the differences, which I am extremely happy about. But back to the film.
The scrip and the story of the film were quite clever. The cheating twist was interesting and very realistic. However, I didn't felt like I was watching a comedy, because I didn't really laugh much.
Also, a few scenes in the film took place in India for the sole purpose of<|fim_middle|> columbus, comdey film, comedy, denis akiyama, directing, donkey kong, film, frozen, game of thrones, gaming, grown ups, harry potter, home alone, josh gad, just go with it, kevin james, martha stewart, motion picture, movie, movie review, mrs doubtfire, need for speed, night at the museum, nintendo, nintendo famicon, nostalgia, olaf, pac man, peter dinklage, pewdiepie, pixels, pixels review, premise, pretty little liars, sean bean, serena willaims, terminator 2, the help, toru iwatani, writing, youtubers 7 Comments | making this film more appealing to Asian audiences. Get that damn Asian money, Sony!
Acting and Cameos
Adam Sandler was okay in the film. I quite liked his romantic comedy scenes with Michelle Monaghan's character. However, her chracater didn't have anything to do, except be the love interest.
Kevin James was also in the film, as usual with Sandler films. His part was the most unbelievable one.
Josh Gad tried to be the funny one but ended up being the stupid one. I really do prefer Gad as a voice actor.
Peter Dinklage was the coolest part of the film and one of the reasons that I was excited about the movie (Game of Thrones, duh). His physical appearance was also great.
Ashley Benson was another reason I wanted to see this film, because I am a Pretty Little Liars fan. However, I was really dispapointed. I waited the whole film for her to show up and she had only 3 scenes at the end. She didn't even said a word, just stood there looking pretty.
Denis Akiyama played Toru Iwatani, the creator of Pac-Man. I wish they would have let the actual creator of Pac-Man play himself because we do see him in the film. The real Tory Iwatani cameos as an Electric Dream Factory repairman.
Sean Bean was also in the film for no reason whatsoever.
Serena Williams and Martha Stewart make cameo appearances as themselves. Their cameos were the only ones that worked.
Also, the film had a plethora of 80s stars appearing in alien messages That made the film seem more grounded, so good job.
The visuals effect of the film looked really amazing. The way the video game figures moved and dissolved into tiny pixelated cubes was a wonderful feast for the eyes. The end credits design and the GAME OVER at the end of the film were also really appropriate additions to the overall theme of the film.
The film was directed by Chris Columbus. I have seen a number of his films. He directed the Mrs. Doubtifre, the first two Home Alones and the first two Harry Potters as well as produced the Night at the Museum films as well as 2011's Oscar nominated drama The Help. This probably won't be his best movie (I mean, look at what he's done), but I still believe that Pixels won't be a stain on his resume, because the directing aspect of the film was really good. The action scenes looked exciting and interesting. Moreover, they looked realistic and that's really hard to do while working with the green screen. And this movie needed a lot of green screen, I suppose.
All in all, Pixels was a fun film that exceeded my expectations, which, to be fair, were quite low to begin with. However, if you love video games and if you are a fan of the staring actors or if you just want to see whether Sandler still has what it takes to make a good comedy, go see this film. Bye!
Trailer: Pixels trailer
July 29, 2015 July 30, 2015 Lou Tagged 1980s, acting, adam sandler, arcaders, arcades, ashley benson, bedtime stories, blended, centipede, chris | 685 |
LandArt is art in and with nature, with nature itself being the exhibition space. Around Falzes-Pfalzen, an adventure path unites nature and art into an extraordinary total work. Those who hike along the path can admire pieces<|fim_middle|> also includes the hamlets of Issengo-Issing to the west and Grimaldo-Greinwalden to the east. The name Collina del Miele - Honigberg, which translates as "honey hill", refers to the area between Haselried and Falzes-Pfalzen. The name comes from the hillside's sunny location which makes it ideal for bee-keeping and making honey.
The hike up to Collina del Miele - Honigberg, the "honey hill", starts at the heart of the village and passes through stunning meadows and woods: first towards Issengo-Issing past the fountain chapel and on to Collina del Miele - Honigberg, then to Bachstöckl and back to Falzes-Pfalzen along the Kirchweg - church path.
This converted WW2 relic now houses a fine selection of local and international cheese specialities. The so called "Genussbunker" of Mantana/Montal is the first one in South Tyrol which was adapted to refine, mature and store speciality cheese varieties.
The exhibition bunker is the complex number 10 - which was already fully operational in 1942. The Bunker No. 10 was also equipped with weapons (gun and machine guns) and even prepared for a possible attack with nuclear weapons. Today, Bunker no. 10 is privately owned and open for guided tours upon requests.
Insights into the past and views of nature.
Combine your visit to the museum with a walk in scenic natural surroundings. Along the archaeological panoramic trail on the Sonnenburger Kopf you will encounter traces of the Bronze, Iron and Roman ages. Display boards explain the excavation sites. Sixteen display boards along the specially created trail provide information on the excavations and the finds that are currently housed in the Mansio Sebatum museum. | that have been made from natural materials by local artists and artisans.
Anyone who hikes through the surroundings of Falzes with their eyes open will be confronted again and again with the material of stone, and specifically in its most varied of forms.
Passing through a gate, they will arrive at the thematic path "The Rocks Tell a Tale". It continues on through the cultural landscape of Falzes with its different aspects and, at the end, leads back through the same gate to the starting point. The buried stone columns stand in front like watchmen and remind us of their versatile usability. The path then leads through fields and meadows slightly upward, past copses of hazel, wild roses, elder, wild cherry, and blackthorn to old dry stone walls covered with moss and lichens, but also past new, carefully layered walls with lovely places to sit in the niches that have been built in.
The Gais Culture Path leads over the stream divide to Neuhaus Castle and is the perfect invitation to meditating or just lounging around. Along the path, artists have installed works with which prominent personalities are acknowledged who formerly lived and worked in Gais. They are the troubadour Oswald von Wolkenstein, American poet Ezra Pound, his daughter Mary de Rachewiltz, and the sculptors Heinrich and Franz Bacher. At the same time, for attentive observers the path presents itself as an enrichment for the soul, a silent bit of happiness in an increasingly loud world. Even though its total length is two kilometers (a mile and a quarter), at many places there is a clear view of the former Gais scree cone, of the village itself with its Romanesque church, and of the facing hill on which the majestic remnants of the Chela-Kehlburg fortress stand.
The village of Falzes-Pfalzen is located on the loveliest sun-kissed plateau in the entire Puster Valley. Set against a magnificent backdrop, it | 399 |
I haven't commented much before because I didn't want you to feel as if you were being stalked by your mother's friends. I do enjoy reading your blogs very much.
That being said, I am a musician (still) as an avocation, playing violin in our local symphony. I love it and am glad every day that my parents made me practice – and didn't let me quit when I wanted to once or twice.
Sounds to me like YOU need a piano and lessons again. It's never<|fim_middle|> lessons as a school boy, saw to it that their Dork son had a piano, AGAIN, as an adult when he expressed dismay over those lost years of lessons. Even supplied a special teach it yourself lesson series. Dental school, new Daddiness and a broken hot water heater demolished THAT plan. | too late.
In the meantime, sing songs in the car whenever you go anywhere and play all kinds of music at home. Let the kids choose how they relate to it – be it by dance or singing – or asking to learn that piano WITH you!
Friend, the parents that exposed Dork Daddy to classical music at a very young age, and piano | 71 |
Mosey Me is a Melbourne based homewares label created by textile designer Eliza O'Sullivan. The natural extension of Eliza's own style, Mosey Me features directional colour and pattern in her hand painted designs. Find Mosey Me this weekend at our Melbourne market.
I'm a Textile Designer who has been working in the commercial design industry for the past 6 years – it became apparent to me quite early on that that style of work wasn't going to satisfy me for long. I moved around a bit, switching from apparel to homewares and tested out small business verses large scale before I made my decision to start my own label.
Mosey Me was born as my side project to keep me creative on my weekends, I'd just paint, draw or collage patterns and keep it light but always with the vision that I would eventually do something on my own one day. Last year I decided I was ready, so I launched in November with a printed tableware range – now I'm trying to figure it all out!
Style and mood plays a huge influence on me and my work – whether it be styling and composition or someone's actual sense of style in the way they have pieced something together. Style tells you so much about people from their interiors to fashion and accessories, they are all clues to what that individual is all about. I love seeing that in other people and putting it out there myself. My product is an extension of me, my personality, mood and style. That's what my creative process is all about.
Tell us something exciting that you have planned for Mosey Me this year.
I'm launching bedlinen later this year!! It has been a total dream of mine for years and it's so exciting/challenging watching it come to life. I also have a couple<|fim_middle|> everyone is on it so its opportunities are endless. It's definitely been a game changer for people starting businesses and best of all its free! I also rely heavily on great design blogs and I love big art and design books.
I really love my new Modern print in the Tablecloth. It's such a statement piece and does all the talking for you. The colour and everything is just right, layer it up with a delicious winter meal and enjoy the way it gives life to your table. | of great collaborations coming up with designers outside of my product realm which has been really fun to work on.
Right now it would have to be Instagram, it's such an easy self-promotion tool and | 40 |
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October 11, 1943 in Newburyport, Mass.
Bachelor's degree in Electrical Engineering (Princeton University, 1965); M.Sc. in Electrical Engineering (University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, 1967); Ph.D. in Computer Science & Engineering (University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, 1971).
Assistant Professor of Computer Science (University of California at Berkeley, 1971--1976), Associate Professor (1976-1982), Professor (1982-1993), Professor of the Graduate School (1994-1999); Senior Lecturer (Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 2001-2) Adjunct Professor (2002-Present). Concurrently co-founded and held executive or advisory roles with companies including Relational Technology, Inc. (founded 1980, later Ingres Corporation), Illustra Corporation (founded 1992, later acquired by Informix where Stonebraker was Chief Technology Officer 1996-2000), Cohera Corporation (1997, acquired by PeopleSoft), StreamBase Systems (2003, acquired by Tibco in 2013), Vertica Systems (2005, acquired by HP), Goby (2008, acquired by<|fim_middle|>. As Stonebraker recalled, "We built an initial prototype, putting in the first 90% of the effort required to create a real system, and it more or less worked. I think that the thing that distinguished INGRES from the typical academic project, and in retrospect one of the smartest things we ever did, was to then put in the next 90% of the effort to make INGRES really work."
In the late 1970s, Stonebraker set up a company to support the commercial development of INGRES.
Students trained on the INGRES project, and in many cases using the INGRES code itself as a starting point, produced most of the leading minicomputer database packages. These included Britton-Lee (an early supplier of specialized parallel processing database management systems), the NonStop SQL product offered by Tandem Computers, and Sybase (whose SQL Server was later licensed by Microsoft). In 1980 Stonebraker himself co-founded Relational Technology, Inc. to produce its own commercial version of INGRES. His involvement with the firm was primarily as a consultant, though he worked there full time for around six months. It was a significant player in the database software market over the next decade, making an initial public offering in 1988 before being acquired in 1990.
By this point Stonebraker was already immersed in the development and commercialization of a successor system. Postgres added many features missing from existing relational systems, including support for rules to maintain consistent relationships between tables, support for complex "object-relational" data types, the replication of data across servers, and procedural languages to embed code fragments within the database management system to be triggered when specified conditions occured.
Stonebraker explains the goals of Postgres, the follow-up to INGRES.
Postgres was also used to experiment with other features of interest to database researchers. Techniques pioneered in Postgres were widely implemented, and in 1992 Stonebraker cofounded Illustra Information Technologies to market a commercial version. It was acquired in 1997 by Informix, which rebuilt its product line around the code.
Entrepreneurial Career
Stonebraker retired from Berkeley in 1994, retaining a connection as a "Professor of the Graduate School." In 1999 he moving to New Hampshire, soon taking up an adjunct appointment at MIT where he could focus on developing and commercializing new technologies without the obligation of regular faculty responsibilities. Since then he has cofounded a company every few years, focusing on the development of database management technologies specialized for particular areas such as data warehousing (Vertica), managing data streams captured by sensors (StreamBase Systems), and high-throughput transaction processing (VoltDB). However one of his latest ventures, SciDB, which focuses on handling massive arrays of scientific data, departs from the relational model as well as from traditional general purpose implementation techniques.
As an eloquent and authoritative commentator on trends in database technology, Stonebraker has defended the enduring power of the relational model against efforts by the "NoSQL" movement to promote the superiority of "post-relational" approaches. At the same time, he has been critical of the assumption that "one size fits all" when implementing relational database management systems and that dominant general purpose systems, such as Oracle, can serve the needs of all users.
Stonebraker is the only Turing award winner to have engaged in serial entrepreneurship on anything like this scale, giving him a distinctive perspective on the academic world. The connection of theory to practice has often been controversial in database research, despite the foundational contribution of mathematical logic to modern database management systems. Stonebraker has been critical of the insularity of some researchers, noting the attention given to such ideas as recursive querying or object-oriented databases suggests that "they are more interested in working on problems that are solvable, rather than problems that are important." His "advice to theoreticians" was "go spend some time in the real world and work on problems that people want solved." In contrast, "Knowing what I know now, I would never have started building INGRES, because it's too hard…. So I think my advice to my younger self would be to suspend your disbelief and just do it anyway. The way you climb Mt. Everest is one step at a time…"
(Quotations from Stonebraker are taken from his interview with Marianne Winslett, published in ACM SIGMOD Record, Vol.32, No. 2, June 2003 as "Michael Stonebraker Speaks Out.")
Author: Thomas Haigh
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© 2019 Association for Computing Machinery. All rights reserved. | Telenauv in 2012), SciDB (2008), VoltDB (2009), and Tamr (2013).
ACM System Software Award (1992); ACM SIGMOD Innovation Award (1994); National Academy of Engineering (elected 1998); IEEE John von Neumann Medal (2005); Alan M. Turing Award (2014).
Michael Stonebraker
United States – 2014
For fundamental contributions to the concepts and practices underlying modern database systems.
Short Annotated
ACM Turing Award
Lecture Video
Michael Stonebraker's contributions to the refinement and spread of database management technology are hard to overstate. He began work in this area as a young assistant professor at the University of California—Berkeley. After reading Edgar F. Codd's seminal papers on the relational model, Stonebraker started work with a colleague, Eugene Wong, to develop an efficient and practical implementation.
Stonebraker explains how he shifted his focus to database research after discovering the work of Ted Codd.
The result was INGRES, a name that reflected the project's original intention to produce a geographically-oriented system with graphical capabilities. This officially stood for "Interactive Graphic and Retrieval System" but echoed the name of a celebrated French painter.
A prototype of INGRES was working by 1974, but the project did not stop there. Over the next decade INGRES, and systems inspired by it, built a new commercial market of relational database systems. Today the relational database management system is one of computing's most important and widely used technologies, having replaced filing cabinets as the standard way of storing and retrieving information.
Development of INGRES
Stonebraker led development of INGRES at Berkeley until 1985, supported by grant money and the labor of graduate and undergraduate students. Berkeley was particularly notable during this era as a place where theoretical research and system building came together with spectacular results. Further examples included the work on timesharing systems by Butler Lampson (winner 1992) and others and the Berkeley Software Distribution (BSD) of the Unix operating system, which gave rise to a commonly used form of open source licensing. These cultures and practices anticipated much of what we now associate with the open source software movement. Stonebraker remembers that "we would recruit the smartest freshmen and sophomores we could find, give them wonderful equipment, and they would basically die writing code for us."
Stonebraker partnered with Eugene Wong to develop INGRES, one of the first relational database management systems.
Stonebraker's work built on, and complemented, that of three other Turing award winners. Academic research into database management technology has had an unusually direct connection to the widely used industrial-strength systems underlying the websites, business applications, scientific breakthroughs, social media systems, and "big data" projects of the modern world. Charles W. Bachman (winner 1973) designed what is often called the first database management system in the early 1960s, and helped to define and popularize the concept of a database management system through his later work with the industry group CODASYL. Edgar F. Codd (winner 1981) developed an elegant and flexible way of storing and retrieving data, the relational model, which gradually eclipsed the network data model over the course of the 1980s. James Nicholas Gray (winner 1988) contributed to IBM's System R, an influential experimental implementation of the relational model, and later pioneered robust, high performance methods for record locking and transaction processing.
Legacy of INGRES
INGRES and System R together helped to turn relational systems from a laboratory curiosity into the default choice for even the most demanding data processing applications. While the IBM prototype targeted the company's multi-million dollar mainframes, INGRES was a Unix application suitable for relatively affordable minicomputers and was widely distributed to other universities where people used it, experimented with it, and extensively modified it.
INGRES brought a new kind of database technology to a new kind of computer. Database management systems were widely adopted by businesses from the early 1970s onwards as central hubs which managed the data used by many different application programs. These early commercial systems ran on mainframes and followed either Bachman's network model or a more restrictive hierarchical approach favored by IBM. In the mainframe world these approaches remained dominant throughout the 1980s so that, for example, IBM first commercialized its work in the area as a niche product for "decision support" analytical applications rather than workaday operational systems.
During the 1970s, minicomputers became a cost-effective alternative to mainframes for an ever widening range of applications. Thanks to INGRES and its derivatives, relational technology became the default choice for minicomputer databases, as the new technology was widely applied to transaction processing applications (keeping routine records of things like address changes or account updates) as well as analytical work. The commercial database systems of the 1970s required their users to navigate through data structures at a relatively low level, making explicit decisions about how to index and link records when the database was created and navigating record by record through these structures when retrieving information. Relational database systems shifted to a more abstract and flexible view of data. Only when querying the database did users specify how data from different tables should be combined. This shifted much of the responsibility for efficiently organizing and retrieving data from the user to the database management software, pushing hard against the limits of affordable hardware.
INGRES was a feat of virtuoso software engineering, prioritizing performance and reliability so that new features were added only once a way of implementing them efficiently had been discovered. By 1976 INGRES was rapidly executing queries written in its QUEL query language (roughly equivalent to the SEQUEL, later SQL, language introduced by IBM). It could be embedded in C programs or used interactively. Under the hood, INGRES implemented a variety of indexing and compression methods, automatically optimizing queries. The team had already begun to add support for transactions, so that related updates would occur together--or not at all--to enforce integrity constraints between related records in different tables, and to deal with the potential problems caused by simultaneous updates from different users. Additional features, such as crash recovery and efficient backup and restore capabilities, turned INGRES from a research project to an industrial-strength technology. This took a huge amount of additional work | 1,344 |
Successful management of technology-driven businesses today requires that employees work effectively in interdisciplinary teams. Team-based project management requires that each member of the team<|fim_middle|> provide strategic guidance, access to senior executives, real-world business problems, and internship and full-time employment opportunities. The current T&M Corporate Affiliates include Abbott, Anheuser-Busch InBev, BP, Boeing, Capital One, John Deere, and Motorola Solutions.
In addition to formal courses, the T&M Program offers a comprehensive set of extracurricular activities to develop skills and provide valuable experiences to students. These include a leadership development and career development workshops, business skills workshops (for example, professional branding, improvisation training, etiquette dinner, and golf etiquette), an international immersion trip, and an international business plan competition.
The Hoeft Technology & Management Program aims to prepare graduates for successful careers in a variety of functions and industries. T&M students have pursued careers in a wide range of industries and fields.
Students who wish to pursue this minor must apply for admission to The Hoeft Technology & Management Program during winter break of their sophomore year. Enrollment in the minor is limited and admission is competitive. Applications are reviewed by the program staff and offers of admission are based on the student's academic record, extracurricular involvement, demonstrated leadership, and career goals.
For more information regarding the Technology & Management minor, visit the Technology & Management website or contact the Technology & Management Program Office (470K Wohlers Hall, (217) 244-5752, tech-mgmt@illinois.edu). | contribute not only in his or her own area of expertise, but in other aspects of the project as well. The better equipped a new employee is to reach this level of competency quickly, the more valuable will be his or her contributions. Moreover, an employee having such competency will be better prepared to assume positions of increased responsibility and challenge.
The Hoeft Technology & Management Program offers a minor in Technology & Management to undergraduate students in the College of Business and the College of Engineering. Students in the Colleges of ACES and LAS may also be eligible based on their major. The minor is designed to prepare students for success in a wide variety of careers. Today, more than ever, employers have high expectations of undergraduate hires. The T&M Program provides a comprehensive experience to ready graduates for early career success.
Throughout the minor, emphasis is placed on an interdisciplinary team approach to the development of comprehensive solutions to real-world problems. In many cases, the problems are provided by industry sponsors who, along with business and engineering faculty advisors, provide assistance and guidance to student teams.
The T&M Program is sponsored by leading companies in a variety of industries. These companies | 228 |
The new issue of Uncut – in shops now and available to buy online by clicking here – follows John Lennon throughout a turbulent 1969 as he embarks on a series of wild avant-garde experiments with Yoko Ono on the way to extr<|fim_middle|>. | icating himself from The Beatles and establishing himself as a solo artist.
As well as the famous bed-ins, the naked experimental films, the avant-garde albums and the political campaigns, there is the formation of a new musical outfit, The Plastic Ono Band, hastily assembled to play the Toronto Rock'N'Roll Revival festival at the invitation of Kim Fowley on September 13, 1969.
On the plane back to London, Lennon decided The Plastic Ono Band were his future now. On September 20, during a meeting at Apple's headquarters, he told Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr that he was leaving The Beatles. Ten days later, he invited Voormann and Eric Clapton to join him and Starr at Abbey Road. Lennon's post-Beatles career was to begin in earnest.
"John said we would do 'Cold Turkey' and I was happy about that," says Voormann. "We went in the studio and John and Eric were playing lots of different riffs until we created this haunted thing." When the single was released on October 20, the credit on the green Apple label read simply "John Lennon": Lennon-McCartney was no more.
You can read much more about John Lennon and Yoko Ono's 1969 in the new issue of Uncut, on sale now | 280 |
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