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WHEN LANCE ANNOUNCED THAT he had fallen in love, no one paid much attention. Lance fell in love at least three times a month, each time with a different pretty girl who had no interest whatsoever in being his girlfriend. He would pine over her for a week or so, and then fall out of love just as quickly when the next pretty girl came along. To those who knew him, Lance's claim that he had fallen in love carried about as much weight as a lion's claim to have become a vegetarian.
So when Lance rushed into Mr. Warwick's study babbling about being in love for the second time that June, Cain, who was in the next room, turned up the radio to drown out his voice. Yet he could still hear Lance ranting to his father, and he could understand most of it.
"Hey." Steve poked his head through the door. "What's Lance carrying on about? I could hear him all the way in the kitchen."
"New girlfriend." Cain rolled his eyes. "I think her name is Michelle."
Steve snorted. "Again? I give 'em three days."
Steve was Mr. Warwick's other son. He was younger than Lance, fifteen years old, and Lance was seventeen. Steve was thin and dark, whereas Lance was big, beefy and sandy-haired. Steve was level-headed and intelligent, whereas Lance was impulsive and often stupid. The two brothers even had dramatically different tastes in fashion. Lance liked loud Hawaiian shirts, and his tastes for specific styles frequently changed to accommodate whatever clothing happened to be popular at the moment; Cain vividly remembered the tantrum he had thrown last year when Mr. Warwick refused to buy him a Members Only jacket. Steve gravitated toward plain black or white T-shirts and didn't particularly care what his classmates thought of his outfits. In fact, Steve was much more like his father than Lance was, but Lance was clearly Mr. Warwick's favorite child. Cain didn't pretend to understand it; but then he was a demon, and as Mr. Warwick liked to remind him, what did demons know about the stranger points of human emotions? As Mr. Warwick's servant, Cain was not in the position to say anything anyway.
Lance had apparently finished his tantrum; the study door slammed, and his angry stomping echoed through the hall. After a moment of silence, Cain heard Mr. Warwick calling him to the study.
Steve made a face. "I think my dad wants you, Cain."
"Mmm." Cain already knew his master wanted to speak with him; the dog collar around his neck had jerked even before Mr. Warwick called out. "Wish me luck."
He stumped off down the hallway—clumsily—because Mr. Warwick insisted that he wear an old pair of Lance's shoes in the house so his hooves wouldn't scuff up the expensive hardwood floors.
Mr. Warwick was seated behind his desk. He was a tall man with piercing gray eyes and long, elegant hands. The records of the various corporations and government agencies to which he sold his services listed his occupation as "scientist" or "consultant." However, anyone who had seen him at work or caught a glimpse of the odd books lining the shelves of his study would realize at once that it was neither consulting nor science that had made him the fourteenth richest man in America and prematurely silvered his hair. He looked up as the door to the study opened.
Cain paused in the doorway. "You wanted to see me, Master?"
"Yes. Come in, Cain." Mr. Warwick's sharp-nosed, brooding face was even more brooding than usual. "Lance thinks he's found the girl of his dreams…again."
"Does he, Master?" Cain repressed a sigh of annoyance.
"He does," said Mr. Warwick. "Michelle, this one's name is. Apparently, she's from out of town, visiting family in the city. He was just in here, complaining bitterly because she wouldn't give him the time of day. It's a pity, really, that he falls in love and gets rejected so often. He's such a sensitive boy."
Cain thought that Lance was about as sensitive as a lump of granite, but he wisely kept his observations to himself.
"Lance is angry with me now because I refused to use my power to help him win this girl over." Mr. Warwick shook his head. "I love my son, but I'm finished with wasting my precious energy on love spells for all the silly girls he'll fall out of love with in a week's time. Still, I hate seeing him in so much pain. I don't know what to do, Cain. I really don't."
Cain said nothing. He knew from experience that he wasn't expected to provide answers or advice; he was expected to stand and say as little as possible while Mr. Warwick vented and bounced ideas off him, as if he were no more than a favorite dog or a photograph of a long-dead relative.
"I'm sure Lance will be over his infatuation in a few days," he went on, sounding a little reassured. "Until then, though, he'll be miserable and angry. Then, of course, there's the danger that this little episode will be repeated in the future. It's high time I had a talk with Lance, man to man, about girls and dating." He raised his eyebrows quizzically. "Do you think he would respond to that, Cain?"
"I think he would, Master," Cain lied. Mr. Warwick had been having the same man-to-man talk with Lance two or three times every month for the last five years, and Cain seriously doubted that yet another repetition of it would make any more of an impression on Lance than all the others had. If anything, it would make him even more sulky and short-tempered and convinced that the girls who sensibly wanted nothing to do with him were stuck up and didn't know what they were missing.
"Yes, I think he would too." Mr. Warwick nodded. "The sooner the better, I say. Lance will be eighteen soon; it's high time he stopped chasing flighty, loose girls and started looking for a nice one."
Most of the girls Lance chased were perfectly nice, in Cain's opinion; it was Lance who was flighty, loose, and most definitely not nice.
"Yes—the sooner, the better," said Mr. Warwick. "I won't be around forever, and I do hope Lance will take over the…family business…one day. He's been making such great strides in his lessons."
Cain nodded in feigned agreement. Perhaps Lance was indeed making great strides in his lessons, but Cain had certainly not noticed them. The few traces of his father's abilities that Lance had inherited were less than impressive, and Lance was too impatient to learn to use them properly.
"I'll feel much more confident about his readiness once he's married and settled down and has an heir of his own on the way. I had such high hopes when he took a shine to Clarissa; the Babbitts are a fine—and very wealthy—old New York family. It's too bad he lost interest in her so quickly."
Cain said nothing and stared at the floor. He had been shocked the first time he had heard Mr. Warwick talk about breeding his son, and the fact that the old man only spoke of Lance's crushes in terms of their value as breeding stock for passing on the Gift—the rare ability to channel magic—disturbed him even more. The subject still made him very uncomfortable.
"Too bad indeed." Mr. Warwick frowned. "Still, I suppose it's just as well. Clarissa is pretty enough, but she's such a mundane little thing that I doubt any child that came out of her would have the Gift no matter who the father was. Besides," he smirked, "I've had the dubious pleasure of working with her parents. Senator Babbitt would be quite useless if it weren't for his deep pockets, and his wife is a horrible shrew. They'd make wretched in-laws. Don't you think so, Cain?"
Cain became even more uncomfortable. Mr. Warwick was always polite to his female clients' faces, but his bland façade always melted away as soon as they left. He even referred to his own late wife—when he spoke of her at all—as "the traitor." Cain had never met Mr. Warwick's wife, but Steve's few fuzzy memories of her were pleasant ones. Cain had no idea why the old man hated her so.
But it wouldn't do to let Mr. Warwick see his discomfort. Any sign of dissatisfaction on his part could bring on a scolding, or worse. "Yes, Master," he said in the faintest hint of a resigned tone.
Mr. Warwick didn't seem to notice. If anything, his expression became a bit more cheerful. "Yes, I'm sure that's the best thing to do. I'll wait until Lance has recovered a bit, and then we'll have a nice talk. I'm sure he'll come to his senses this time. You may go now, Cain."
"Yes, Master."
"Oh—and Cain?"
"Yes, Master?" Cain paused in the doorway.
"Turn that damned radio down. I can barely hear myself think in here."
"Yes, Master."
Steve was standing in the hallway as Cain emerged from the study. His head was tipped back, and he was pressing a bloody towel to his nose.
"Hey, Cain." He grimaced. "Can you help me out here? His Royal Spitefulness caught me on the way back to the kitchen and decided to take it out on me again."
Almost from the day Lance learned to walk, he had been taking out his frustrations on Steve. As Mr. Warwick was too busy to notice, Steve had always come to Cain for comfort and pain relief after their one-sided fights. Cain, in turn, went to Steve to vent after Mr. Warwick talked down to him or took the fireplace poker to his back for failing at a task. Steve was the closest thing he had to a friend in the human world.
"Of course. Come and sit down in my room."
Steve followed Cain to his bedroom and sat down on the edge of the frayed, rickety bed as he had done many times.
"It doesn't look broken." Cain watched a fresh trickle of blood drip from Steve's nose as he removed the towel. The fragility of Steve's human body amazed and worried him. Cain's thick scales protected him from most injuries like those that Steve sustained in minor tussles with Lance. Even Mr. Warwick's occasional beatings did little damage, though Cain always made a point of pretending that the beatings hurt him more than they actually did for fear that his master would dream up harsher punishments. "That's good. There is a lot of blood, though. This may take a while."
Steve nodded gingerly and sat back. He winced as Cain placed three fingers against the bridge of his nose and concentrated. Cain couldn't heal wounds exactly; but if he was careful, he could stimulate the body's natural healing mechanisms to work at an accelerated speed. It was a delicate job, but Lance's frequent temper tantrums had given him plenty of practice. In two minutes he had managed to stop the blood flow, and Steve looked much less uncomfortable.
"Thanks." He wrinkled his nose and gave an experimental sniff. "You know, you'd think I'd be better at avoiding Lance when he's pissed about something by now."
"I think he's just gotten better at finding you."
"That's probably true." Steve sighed. "You're lucky you're bigger than he is, Cain. He'd never have the balls to try and beat you up even though you aren't allowed to fight back."
"Maybe not." Cain scratched at his collar thoughtfully. It was true that Lance had never actually hit him, but he could recall several occasions when he could distinctly feel him wanting to hit him. It was bound to happen one of these days. "Still, there are times when I'd rather be hit than listen to the old man complaining about how the whole world is against his dear son."
"What did he say this time? The usual?" Steve made a derisive grunting noise in the back of his throat.
"The usual. 'These stupid, fickle girls don't know what they're missing, Cain! It's a shame. Lance is such a sensitive boy.'" Cain imitated Mr. Warwick's voice mockingly. "I don't know whether his Lance-worship makes me want to laugh or cry, and the worst part is that I'm not allowed to do either."
"You've got more self-control than I do." Steve rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. Or I'd just throttle dad."
"A slave collar is good for self-control," Cain began. As he spoke, he felt it again—the collar gave a sharp jerk, as if someone had tugged an invisible leash around his neck. In this way, he always knew when Mr. Warwick wanted him even when he couldn't hear him calling. It was also the charm that bound him to Mr. Warwick in servitude until the old man released him or died. He hated it, but there was nothing he could do to change it. The black leather drew tight around his neck like a noose whenever he even thought about tearing it off.
"Speaking of which," he said wryly, "your dad's calling me again. Let's hope he wants me to help him put a curse of impotence on Lance."
"Fat chance." Steve grinned. "Like the idea, though. I think I'll try that once I learn enough magic."
Cain lay in the early evening twilight, listening to the distant, comforting buzz of the Warwicks' muffled conversation at the family dinner table. Mr. Warwick had excused Cain from serving them today, and Cain had already eaten his dinner of raw ground beef in his room. He was never allowed to eat with the family because Mr. Warwick found the demon diet of raw meats undignified. Cain preferred to eat alone anyhow. If Mr. Warwick didn't give him enough food, which he usually didn't, Cain could sometimes sneak out his window to snatch a pigeon or a small rodent from the backyard. He often wished that he could venture into the woods outside the neighborhood in search of larger game, but his collar wouldn't allow him to travel outside the confines of Mr. Warwick's property without his express permission. Hunting came easily to Cain—a skill, he guessed, that he had learned in his previous life—though he had no memory of his life before servitude.
Mr. Warwick often wiped Cain's memory. Cain suspected that it was one of the many ways in which Mr. Warwick kept him in check. As a result, Cain was always excited and somewhat anxious when he was sent to do errands. Every time, he felt as if he were encountering the outside world for the first time.
In the last five hours, Cain had flown to the Peruvian Andes to gather rare mountain lichens that Mr. Warwick needed for a specially ordered flying ointment, stopped in El Salvador to slip a poison too vile to contemplate into the wine glass of a progressive-minded politician whom Mr. Warwick had been hired to assassinate, and passed into Mexico to pick up a flint knife, cruelly sharp and inlaid with an exquisite turquoise mosaic, which Mr. Warwick wanted for purposes of his own. He had also had orders to spy invisibly on Lance's new crush for an hour or so. He had learned nothing new about Michelle except that she was visiting her Uncle Walter and Aunt Janice in Yonkers, that she was pretty and brown-haired, and that she was intelligent enough to have recognized immediately that Lance was bad news. He told Mr. Warwick everything but the last point. Each errand had been both terrifying and exhilarating for Cain. After dinner, he knew Mr. Warwick would wipe his memory of all of these events. He savored them while he could.
Cain switched on the ancient radio that sat on the milk crate he used as a bedside table. He squinted up at the grimy little window with its threadbare yellow curtains, hovering on the edge of sleep and dangling his feet over the footboard of the lumpy old bed—not that he had much choice, for the bed was too short for him. The last notes of a song he had been half-listening to faded out on the radio, and the opening chords of Killing Medicine crackled through the speakers. Cain perked up. Killing Medicine was one of his favorite songs.
He closed his eyes and listened. The band—he had never been very good at remembering band names (was it Lion of Judah, maybe?)—had a lead singer with a voice unlike any Cain had heard before. It veered effortlessly between smooth baritone and shrieking tenor, moaning an arcane tale of betrayal and anger.
The guitarist launched into a complicated solo. Cain sighed and began to relax. He liked the mournful, distorted wailing of electric guitars. It reminded him of something from before he was captured, something he was no longer permitted to remember…
His eyes flew open.
A mountaintop in the Outside. We flew here together, my tribe and I. I shivered in the snow as they lined up—tall creatures, hoofed and scaled like me, but darker somehow, trailing black wings behind them.
The memory was fading already, as all memories of life before his capture inevitably did. He fought to hold it.
They turned their faces to the sky and began to sing.
The collar started to sting. Cain dug his long, sharp nails into the mattress and closed his eyes tight, straining against the inevitable.
Such singing! Cain thought. More tones than I could count, perfectly mingled and overlaid…and sad, so deeply sad. A mourning song. A song that seeped into veins and deadened nerves…
A sudden, painful burst of light erupted against the inside of his eyelids, and the memory was gone. He let out a snarl and squeezed the mattress in helpless anger. The collar bit him as his claws left fresh punctures in the already tattered fabric.
Michelle went back home to California two days later. Lance was gloomy and irritable for two days more. He beat Steve up three times, talked back to his father and earned the first cross word Mr. Warwick had said to him in months, and threw a shoe at Cain, who had failed to bring the Coke he ordered upstairs in what he considered a timely manner. By the end of the second day, he was grumbling sullenly about Michelle being too stuck up to give him a chance. He seemed on the verge of writing her off and moving on to another girl.
The next few days were normal enough. Mr. Warwick wiped Cain's memory of his previous errands, but he allowed him to keep the memory of spying on Michelle until the matter was "resolved." He also sent Cain to Ontario to pick up a pound of witch hazel. The boys sat through Mr. Warwick's attempts to teach them the basics of sorcery. Steve wasn't half bad at it, but Lance was a hopeless cause. One day, Mr. Warwick came home in an exceptionally good mood.
"Some rich televangelist met him for lunch today," Steve explained when Cain asked what was up. "Seems he's offering dad a lot of money to help him fight this freaky underground cult that, like, kidnaps people and sacrifices them in demon-worshipping rituals and stuff."
As he did laundry that afternoon, Cain wondered who these mysterious demon-worshipping humans were and what in the world they thought they could accomplish by kidnapping other humans and sacrificing them. He sighed as he inspected a stain on one of Lance's shirts.
If these people exist at all, he thought with a bit too much enthusiasm, they're probably very angry with Mr. Warwick and ready to give him a solid beating for enslaving one of their "gods"…
The collar tingled ominously. He pushed the idea out of his mind and started on a spell to remove the stain.
There was only one thing out of the ordinary: Lance kept talking about Michelle.
He wasn't grumbling about her alleged coldness anymore either. Instead, he was sighing over what he saw as her more pleasant attributes.
"She had the most amazing hair," he gushed at the dinner table one night while Cain was in the kitchen tidying up. "It was always so perfect. And that figure! I'm getting hot just thinking about it."
"Lance," said Mr. Warwick as he helped himself to more mashed potatoes, "don't you think you should forget this Michelle person? She's gone now, and she wasn't good enough for you anyway."
"I know she's not good enough for me!" Lance brought his fist down on the table, launching a minor eruption of peas from his plate. "That's the whole problem! She's not good enough for me, but I'm in love with her anyway."
Cain rushed into the dining area and started cleaning up the mess with a wet rag.
"I was afraid this would happen someday." Mr. Warwick shook his head sadly. "I was always afraid that you would fall in love with a girl who wasn't good enough for you, and she would break your heart. You're too sensitive, Lance."
Steve and Cain exchanged a disgusted look over the table. Cain knew that if Steve had started whining about being in love with a girl who didn't love him back, Mr. Warwick would tell him to get over it and to stop bothering him while he was eating.
Lance poked his untouched potatoes sulkily. "This wouldn't have happened, you know, if you'd just given me help when I asked for it. She'd be eating out of my hand right now, and my heart wouldn't be broken."
"I admit that," said Mr. Warwick. "But you see, Lance, love spells are expensive to make and even more expensive to undo. I really didn't want to act until I knew that this was the real thing."
"It is the real thing!" Lance squirmed with frustration. "I told you that, and you didn't believe me."
"Tell you what, then. We'll wait a while, and if you're still in love with Michelle after a certain period of time—say, two weeks—then we'll start talking magical solutions."
Lance was pacified and began to dig into his food.
"Good boy." Mr. Warwick smiled, and then glanced at his empty cup. "More coffee, Cain."
Cain balled up the dirty rag and went to get the coffeepot. He knew from experience to show no interest in the outcome of the argument, but he couldn't help feeling sorry for Michelle.
Steve and Lance went to the beach the next day. Cain, of course, was not allowed to go.
"Meet any pretty girls today, Lance?" Mr. Warwick asked pointedly as the boys came home.
"Plenty." Lance glared at his father. "They were all bitchy, uptight college girls, though. I can't stand it when a girl knows more than me. Michelle is smart, but at least she's decent enough to hide it."
"A fine quality for a young lady to have," admitted Mr. Warwick.
"She wouldn't have to hide it if you would make a little effort to raise your IQ above the single digits," muttered Steve as he rummaged for a cold drink from the refrigerator. Lance was sulking too deeply to hear him.
The days crawled by, and Lance showed no sign of moving on to a new unwilling girlfriend. Mr. Warwick called Cain into his study on the evening the two-week deadline expired.
"Well, Cain, Lance has certainly proved himself. He's never been in love with anyone this long," he said, sounding as if Lance had fawned over her for two years instead of two weeks. "I'd still rather not resort to using spells, but I don't see any other way to keep my promise. The only question is how to do it. I don't want something so powerful that I'd have trouble undoing it should Lance decide he doesn't want her anymore, but the lesser ones aren't good for much of anything but a simple crush."
"Yes, Master," said Cain unhappily.
Mr. Warwick frowned. "Of course, the effects are strengthened if the victim already has fond feelings for the intended object. If only there were some way to make this Michelle fond of Lance to begin with—some way that didn't involve magic."
"Master?" Cain swallowed nervously. Speaking out of turn was risky, but this time he felt that he had to say something. "Ah…doesn't Michelle live in California?"
"She does." Mr. Warwick drummed his fingers on his desk. "We'll need some excuse to bring her back to New York…"
"What if…I'm sorry, Master, but…what if…she doesn't want to be with Lance anyway because he lives too far away? It is a long way for a human to travel." Cain stared at the long-necked blue vase that sat on the corner of the desk. It wasn't much of a defense, but he was afraid to come across as insubordinate.
"What a quaint idea, Cain." Mr. Warwick chuckled. "Distance makes little difference to young people in love—though I wouldn't expect any demon to understand love since you all have limited ability to overcome baser instincts."
He cast a jaundiced eye over Cain's bare chest and arms.
"I'll wear a shirt tomorrow, Master," said Cain unhappily. He had hated the squeezing and scratchiness of human clothes since the first hours of his capture. It was a hot day, and he thought that wearing pants was a perfectly adequate compromise.
"Good." Mr. Warwick smiled. "Anyway, I suppose you are at least right that the distance is inconvenient. I'll overcome it somehow. I just need a little time to think."
The time Mr. Warwick took to think annoyed Lance greatly, and he took his frustration out on Steve in increasingly bloody ways. Cain was too startled to react when Lance slapped him with an open hand for burning his toast at breakfast. Lance rarely came close enough to touch him because he was a little afraid of the blue demon ever since he was seven years old and suffered a nasty bite after he pulled Cain's tail.
"Whoa, Lance. Take it easy!" yelled Steve from the safety of the other side of the table. "It's not Cain's fault that dad's too cheap to replace our piece-of-shit toaster."
"Shut your mouth, Steve," growled Lance. "Stupid animal had it coming to him. He needs someone to teach him a lesson."
Cain shuffled over to the sink without a word and willed himself to start unloading the dishwasher. As much as he would have loved to leap on Lance and give his other arm a matching bite-shaped scar, the momentary satisfaction wouldn't be worth the vicious choking he knew he would get from the collar. He had hardly felt the slap through his scales anyway.
Mr. Warwick had lunch with a client that afternoon. While he was away, Cain and Steve sneaked into his study to search for a love-ending spell. Unfortunately, love spells tended to be most effective as potions. Although Lance was a poor magician, he did have a minor talent for sensing and detecting magic, especially the kind of magic found lingering on potion-contaminated food.
Cain pushed yet another dusty tome aside. "Well, there were plenty in that book, but they were all potions. He would smell them from a mile away."
Steve groaned. "Why do love spells always have to come in potion form? At the rate Lance is going, I'll be beaten to a pulp or dead before dad stops brooding over work and turns his full attention to the Michelle problem."
Cain began to flip through another book with no success. "I feel sorry for the girl too. She has no idea what she's about to be dragged into."
"True. She might at least civilize him a little, though—Oh, shit!"
Cain followed Steve's gaze to the door. The handle was turning.
"I thought dad was away at some kind of meeting," Steve hissed.
"He was," Cain whispered back. "He must have gotten home early. Well, on to the emergency plan."
They scrambled to opposite ends of the room. Cain closed his eyes and concentrated on reducing his size until he was small enough to crawl into the space between the wall and the last book on a shelf. He hated to shrink himself—it caused a crushing, breathless sensation that made him feel as if he had been stuffed into a thick paper bag and stomped upon—but it was a quick and effective way to hide. Steve hunched in a corner and rattled off a spell of invisibility, one of the first spells he'd learned, and one he had used many times to escape from Lance.
It wasn't a very good emergency plan. They left books scattered all over the floor, and though Steve's invisibility spell was more than enough to fool Lance, Mr. Warwick could probably see through it if he put the proper effort into detecting hidden magic or looked in just the right place.
Mr. Warwick swept in, and Cain held his breath as he moved in the direction of the pile of books. Fortunately, he didn't seem to notice them. He walked silently to his desk and leaned there with a casual air. A moment later Cain and Steve both saw why he assumed this stance: he had company. Mr. Warwick's companion was a big man in an expensive-looking blue suit. He paused in the doorway, peering suspiciously into the study as if he feared that dozens of bloodthirsty murderers were lying in wait among the books.
"Come in, Reverend Breen." Mr. Warwick made an inviting gesture. "You see, there are no dried bat wings or toads in cauldrons in here—just books—like your study at home. I assure you that what I do is perfectly legitimate and respectable."
"It does look that way. But there is something uncanny about it." The minister's words were spoken slowly, in a sonorous tone, and slightly over-pronounced as if he were trying to hide a Southern drawl. His steely, olive-colored eyes narrowed as he leaned toward the shelves—perilously close to Cain's hiding place—and inspected a book with a collection of arcane glyphs engraved on the spine. "Still, my congressman-friend recommended you pretty strongly. Says you singlehandedly took care of that dangerous Communist firebrand Aurelio Cáceres somehow, and that if anyone could give us an edge in our battle against this awful cult, it's you. Knowing what you do, though, I had to come meet you myself and make sure…" He looked uncertain.
"That I'm not a Satanist myself?" Mr. Warwick chuckled, not at all insulted. "You have nothing to worry about—I assure you. I detest black magic of any kind."
For someone who detests it so much, thought Cain contemptuously, you certainly use it a lot.
"That's good to know." The Reverend Breen didn't sound entirely convinced. "Are you willing to help us, then?"
"I don't see how I could pass up the opportunity," Mr. Warwick replied in his most sickeningly faux-sincere business voice. "Your cause is a good one; the pay is excellent; and I do believe that this assignment will be much more challenging than anything I have ever encountered. I do love a challenge, Reverend Breen."
Cain wondered if Mr. Warwick knew that he was being hired to fight people who didn't exist. He did sound excited at the thought of hunting demon worshippers, but Cain had known him long enough to recognize the placating smile plastered on his face. It was the same smile he flashed at clients when he thought he could send them on their way with a vial of perfectly ordinary sugar water tinted with green food coloring instead of the powerful potion they ordered.
"Good, good." The minister sat down heavily in the antique oak chair that faced the desk. "Now, if we can get down to business. What exactly do you intend to do?"
Though Cain couldn't quite see him anymore, he suspected that Mr. Warwick was sitting behind his desk with his fingers pressed together, fixing the minister with his most intense and sphinx-like stare. Mr. Warwick liked his clients to feel uncomfortable; their discomfort made it easier for him to remain in control of their interactions.
"I intend," he said finally, "to fight magic with magic."
The minister winced visibly at the word magic, but said, "Go on."
"You say that these Satanists have escaped justice so far because they use their powers to mask the evidence of their crimes and keep ordinary law enforcement officials away from their meeting places, do you not? I know how these things can be done."
"And you know how to keep them from being done, I hope?"
"Of course." Mr. Warwick's voice grew more serious. "But I cannot do it on my own. I'm just one person, after all, and there are thousands of them—thousands upon thousands. If you want me to be able to make any difference at all, I must have help."
"What kind of help?" asked the minister with more than a hint of suspicion in his voice.
"People with…special training," Mr. Warwick replied. "People who can do the kinds of things I can do. People who can go out into the field, as it were, and be my operatives. If I have enough of them working for me, and if I am given enough time, I am quite sure that I can manage to bring the whole organization down from the inside."
"That sounds like excellent news," said the Reverend Breen nervously. "But I have to ask, where would you get your…recruits? We aren't expected to provide them, are we? I would rather not have anyone in my ministry getting involved in…in that line of work. No offense."
"None taken," said Mr. Warwick calmly. "I understand your objections, and I assure you that I already have people in mind who have nothing to do with your church. You need not be involved with the training process either; I'll oversee that myself. I just need you to provide me with enough money to run it and enough space to work."
"That sounds reasonable," said the minister. "I am curious, however. How exactly does one go about training for your program?"
"It is a rather complicated process. I'm afraid you would find the technical points very boring, but basically what I do is…"
To Cain's disappointment, he lowered his voice so they could no longer hear what he was saying. This tactic was another favorite trick of Mr. Warwick's: he'd awe his clients by whispering information to them, giving them the impression that they were being let in on wonderful and highly privileged mystical secrets. He could see the minister shifting in his seat as the conversation went on.
"That sounds awfully drastic," he said at last.
"It's the only way, I'm afraid," said Mr. Warwick sadly. "You know what kind of people we're up against. And you must remember that you wouldn't have to be involved in it—not directly anyway."
"What about the legal issues?" the minister asked. "This sounds like it's in the gray area at best…"
"I've dealt with the law before," said Mr. Warwick. "The law won't touch me."
There was a long silence, and then the minister said, "Very well. I'll consider your offer."
"Excellent." There was a shifting sound, and Cain guessed that Mr. Warwick had stood up. "I'll show you out."
The Reverend Breen got out of his chair with a great noise of upheaval and effort. He turned slowly to the door, and Cain thought he looked as if he deeply disliked whatever Mr. Warwick had told him. Mr. Warwick glided around the desk and began to show the minister out. Cain held his breath as he paused to frown at the pile of books on the floor; but he apparently decided to deal with it after he had seen to his guest. He continued out of the study, the minister following in his wake. The door closed, and there was silence.
Cain hopped cautiously down off the bookshelf. He had barely finished expanding to his normal size when Steve materialized beside him.
"God!" Steve's face was pale. "That scared the shit out of me. I thought dad was supposed to be gone all day."
"Me too." Cain shuddered and picked at his collar. "Let's get out of here before he comes back."
They scurried out of the study without replacing the books, having decided that Mr. Warwick would be even more suspicious if he came back to find the study clean. Once they were safely in Cain's room, they turned on the radio at full volume to mask their voices in case Mr. Warwick was listening.
"Wow," said Steve. "That Reverend guy—Brent? Bryant? I forget his name—seems pretty serious. I wonder if there really is a cult out there."
"I don't think so," said Cain. "If there were people who really worshipped demons, why would they let anyone put a slave collar on me and mess with my memories?"
"Maybe they're scared of dad for some reason," said Steve, his eyes full of worry. "Maybe dad expects us to help him fight them, as some sort of test to see what we've learned or something?"
"I wouldn't worry about it." Cain sighed. "What is it your dad always says about those televangelist people? That they're a gang of hypocritical, sanctimonious, money-grubbing…" he paused, trying to remember all the complicated words Mr. Warwick was so fond of using.
"Bloviating, mendacity-minded frauds?" Steve volunteered. "Yeah, he comes home ranting about some televangelist friend of Mrs. Babbitt's every time he has a meeting with the senator. I'm surprised he made it through a whole lunch with that preacher guy without being an ass to him."
"Exactly," said Cain. "I don't think he's going to do anything to help the minister. I think he's just going to let the minister think he's helping."
"Oh!" Recognition dawned in Steve's eyes. "You mean like the fake beauty spells he started giving to Mrs. Babbitt after she called him her husband's glorified assassin when she thought he wasn't listening? Yeah, that's definitely something he would do. But still, why would the minister lie about something like this? It's a pretty big and crazy thing to lie about."
"Yeah," Cain agreed. "I have no idea why anyone would lie about something like that. But I'm not the best person to ask. I have no idea why humans do a lot of things."
Mr. Warwick brooded in silence for the rest of the day. It made Cain uneasy; the old man was usually annoyingly cheerful after landing a lucrative deal. This time he sat at the dinner table glaring at his pork chops. He even went so far as to snap at Lance to stop whining and to be patient, for he was already doing everything he could. Steve and Cain exchanged worried glances as he pushed his half-eaten meal aside and slouched off to his study without another word. The scattered books weighed heavily on Cain's mind as he cleared Mr. Warwick's dinner plate.
Two hours later, Cain felt a tug at his collar as he lay in his bed rehearsing good explanations for the mess. He switched off the radio, set his teeth, and wobbled his way to the study.
Mr. Warwick was sitting behind his desk, most of his attention focused on the paperweight suspended in the air four inches above his outstretched palm. He looked, if it were possible, even more disgruntled than he had at dinner.
"Cain," he said curtly. "I need you to go to Los Angeles for me tomorrow."
Cain blinked in surprise and relief. It was a tentative relief, however; Mr. Warwick was still clearly in a temper about something.
"Yes, Master," he said in his meekest tone. "What do you need me to get for you?"
The paperweight barely wavered as Mr. Warwick's eyes bored into it.
"It's not for me," he said at last. "It's for Lance. I need you to bring Michelle to him."
Cain raised an eyebrow, convinced that he couldn't have heard correctly.
"I…ah…beg your pardon, Master?"
"I need you to bring Michelle back to New York for Lance." Mr. Warwick's tone was suddenly gentle, but Cain wasn't fooled; the paperweight was beginning to vibrate, reflecting his irritation.
"Now, now, no need to look so shocked, Cain. I don't mean for you to swoop in and carry her off against her will. You must convince her to come of her own volition and give my boy another chance—without using magic, of course. I'll take care of that part. You just be kind and attentive to her, and praise Lance often. Beg her to come back for another visit. Use all the charm you have. She'll be bound to come around eventually."
Cain's tail curled nervously around his knees. It had not taken him long to realize that most humans found the sight of a seven-foot-tall, scaly blue demon with curved black horns and fangs distinctly less than charming.
"But I don't have any charm, Master," he muttered.
"Nonsense. You're charming enough in your human form." Mr. Warwick smiled, and the paperweight gyrated furiously.
Cain groaned. It was true that he could take human form easily enough, but he rarely bothered. He had always found it terribly uncomfortable, and somehow he could never avoid making himself look so striking that he stood out almost as much among humans when he was in human form as he did in his natural shape.
"I'll take human form, then," he said in resignation. "But Master…I hope I don't sound like I'm trying to get out of work, but…Well, I don't see why you want me to do this. I'm not very good at this kind of thing." Contrary what most humans seemed to expect of demons, Cain had absolutely no talent at tempting anyone into anything. He had regularly failed even to tempt Lance and Steve to come in from the snow for hot cocoa when they were both younger.
Mr. Warwick's smile instantly turned to a frown. His hand shot up, snakelike, and snatched the paperweight from the air.
"If you had been paying attention when you were spying on Michelle, you would know why I need you to go," he hissed. "But you weren't. You failed to give me one important detail: her last name. It's Breen. Does that sound familiar?"
"I…" It did sound familiar, but the absurd unfairness of being blamed for not finding out Michelle's last name distracted him. He had assumed that Lance would at least bother to find out the last name of the girl he was supposedly in love with on his own.
"She's the daughter of Nathaniel Breen." Mr. Warwick's eyes narrowed. "The Reverend Nathaniel Breen, who just so happens to be my biggest client right now."
"Oh. I see, Master." Cain tried his best to look abashed.
"There's no doubt about it," growled Mr. Warwick. "I had a meeting with him this afternoon, and what do you think he brought up in the conversation? His darling only daughter, Michelle, who was just in New York visiting relatives and ended up being followed for days by some dunderheaded love-struck local boy." He looked furious at the very memory of hearing Lance described this way. "I can't tell you how much this revelation complicates things, Cain. The good minister was leery enough of me already. I had to bring him back to the house to show him that I don't work out of a deep, dank dungeon. Thank God we didn't run into you; I don't think I ever would have convinced him to come back. If he ever found out that Lance is Michelle's love-struck local boy…I can't look as if I was involved in this arrangement, Cain. You must convince Michelle for me, as quietly as possible."
"I'll do it, then, but…but I still don't understand how I'm supposed to do it, Master," said Cain desperately.
"Use your imagination!" Mr. Warwick shot him an exasperated look. "Pretend to be a friend of Lance's who has come to put in a good word for him, or convince her that her aunt and uncle want to see her again. Become a movie star if you have to! I really don't care as long as you get the job done. This girl wouldn't be my first choice for Lance, to be perfectly honest, but she does at least seem to have a good reputation and a decent background. And most importantly, she's held his interest longer than any other girl. That must be a good sign."
"Yes, Master." Cain sighed. "Is that all?"
"Not quite." Mr. Warwick pressed the tips of his fingers together. "I found a pile of books lying on the floor of my study when I came home this afternoon. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
"Steve wanted help studying, Master," said Cain meekly. This statement was the truth, more or less; Mr. Warwick couldn't prevent him from lying, but he was more than capable of punishing him for it.
"Hmm. Well, just clean up after yourself next time." Mr. Warwick turned gloomily to the window. "Good for Steve. I do wish Lance would study more. He has the potential to be great if he would only apply himself."
Cain almost said "Hah." Luckily, he remembered where he was in time, and just said, "Yes, Master."
Cain lay awake, staring at the darkened ceiling in tense, set-jawed concentration. A few frayed memory fragments had emerged from the empty stretch of impenetrable darkness in his mind, which stood in place of all the recollections of life before his capture. He juggled them as they shifted in and out of his grasp, trying to get a good look at them before they vanished again.
I spoke another language before I knew this one. It's gone now, swallowed up in the past, but bits and pieces come back sometimes. Havah was food and raii was fire; kema was yes and amo was no. My whole tribe spoke it. We called ourselves Malakim, or Fallen Ones. Never demons. I was not a demon until my master captured me and gave me that name. Now it's the only name I know. Nath samakh, my tribe would say. That is the way of things…
The sudden headache came, and the memory was lost again. Cain blinked away the ghostly blue aura that danced against his vision. It was perfectly circular with a five-pointed star in the middle. That same symbol always exploded in his mind's eye after he stopped remembering. He had no idea why he saw it or what it meant, but he hated it almost as much as he hated the collar.
Cain switched the radio on with a sigh. He still hadn't the slightest idea how he was going to find Michelle, let alone convince her to come all the way across the country for the sake of a boy she had known for all of two days and detested.
He wasn't even sure he wanted to convince her; but that made no difference. What he wanted did not matter, and it would never matter as long as Mr. Warwick lived. He was his master's demon. He had to follow orders, whether those orders involved collecting rare herbs, poisoning someone who had never done him any harm, or procuring a girlfriend for loathsome Lance. He scratched at his collar as guitars wailed angrily in his ears.
This one is difficult for me to review. I took a long time to get into it, which meant I read it in short blasts, inbetween reading other books. Bear this is mind when reading my review.
Reading the blurb, Devil Music sounded just my cuppa tea . Set in the 80's (when I was growing up), it had a dark thriller plot with supernatural and horror elements, all of which made me eager to get stuck in.
But something fell flat for me straight away.
The writing wasn't the issue, though I think it could do with tightening up in the first half so things move along faster. The characters were okay, if a little two dimensional at times. I never attached, which usually means I drag myself through a story. And the plot was thrilling, though I wish it had started sooner. It's the culmination of all of these 'okays' which means, in my opinion (not necessarily yours) that it was only 'okay' when I'd expected awesome!
For this reason, I give it 3.5/5.
About the Book – About the Author – Prizes!!!
About the prizes: Who doesn't love prizes? You could win one of two $50 Amazon gift cards or an autographed copy of Devil Music! Here's what you need to do…
- Enter the Rafflecopter contest
- Leave a comment on my blog
That's it! One random commenter during this tour will win the first gift card. Visit more blogs for more chances to win–the full list of participating bloggers can be found HERE. The other two prizes will be given out via Rafflecopter. You can find the contest entry form linked below or on the official Devil Music tour page via Novel Publicity. Good luck!
Buy DEVIL MUSIC…
Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or iTunes.
About The Author:
Carly Orosz lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan with her husband. She graduated from Kalamazoo College and went on to earn an MFA in poetry from Sarah Lawrence College. Her poetry has been published in Wavelength Journal and SpoutMagazine. In her spare time she enjoys cooking, weaving on a hand loom, and studying the art and cultures of pre-Columbian Mexico.
Connect with Carly: Website, Facebook, Twitter,or GoodReads..


text:
Rdio Takes the 'Twitter Approach' With Revamped Service
- Rdio Takes the 'Twitter Approach' With Revamped Service
- The Evolving Online Music Space
Rdio on Monday unveiled a revamped version of its music-streaming service intended to provide a more visually appealing interface that's easier to navigate.
Subscribers have had access to this "new Rdio" since March, when the company took the wraps off a beta version of the upgrade at SXSW. But as of Monday night, all users free and paid were switched over to the revamped Rdio.
"It was too easy for people to get lost in the vast information architecture of a service with 15 million songs, millions of artists, and a lot of people who they follow," Malthe Sigurdsson, vice president of Rdio product design, said in a recent interview. "So we needed to make the overall navigation hierarchy and architecture better."
New Rdio adds much-requested features like drag-and-drop playlist creation and private playlists, a static left-hand bar, and a bigger focus on discovery. Sigurdsson said Rdio thinks of the service as an app, "so we wanted to make sure the service felt like an application even though it runs in a browser."
Rdio got its start in 2010 under the direction of Skype founders Niklas Zennstrom and Janus Friis. It is now available in the U.S., Canada, Brazil, Germany, Australia, New Zealand, Spain, Portugal and Denmark, and was recently launched in the U.K. and France. The firm is currently led by CEO Drew Larner (above, right), a former Twentieth Century Fox exec, and co-founder Carter Adamson (left), former head of product at Skype. PCMag sat down with Larner and Adamson recently to talk about how the online music space has evolved, what's next for Rdio, and more.
PCMag: What's the one thing we should know about new Rdio?
Drew Larner: In general, I think we've just made it easier and more intuitive to do what we've focused on from the beginning, which is discovering music through people. I thought it was very powerful the way we did it the first time around, but I think we just improved upon it with the redesign in terms of how you follow people, how you see what people are doing, in terms of the interaction, and how the UI works.
PCMag: What do you hope to accomplish with the revamp?
Drew Larner: It's been a constant process of constantly tweaking [Rdio] and making it better. This is a more global change, but you know, we push out changes all the time and the goal is to just keep improving on what we think is the best experience out there for consumption of music.
PCMag: How do you decide which requested features to include?
Drew Larner: I think it's a litany of things, and it's sort of figuring out how best to respond. Because people have comments all the time, as you would imagine. It's a savvy group of users who are interested in improving their experience. But I think it's collectively on the product team side figuring out what is most important, and layering that in as best we can.
PCMag: How do you differentiate yourself from rivals like Spotify or MOG?
Drew Larner: It goes back to what I mentioned earlier as far as social discovery. We think that music is intrinsically social, but not social in the sense of Facebook and having all your friends and your grandmother and your college roommate [weigh in on music]. But more around people who you believe can provide an interesting window into what they're doing from a music standpoint and creating a great way for people to discover music. It's something we feel we've done from day one and continued to improve upon and we believe it's truly unique.
Carter Adamson: I think social is definitely one [aspect], but where we shine is really the discovery piece vis-a-vis the other services. We hear comments like, "I discovered more music in the past two days on Rdio than in the past few decades of my life" virtually every week, which is really one of the main reasons why we started this service. Because we noticed a lot of people kind of giving up on music entirely after college because they simply didn't have enough time to go to the shows and read the magazines and talk to the people they needed to talk to. They had their 40 CDs and the radio and that was good enough. So we really feel and are seeing from comments and press that we've unlocked music again for people in a very fun and easy, seamless way. It has excited people and brought people back to music.
So, social is one [way to differentiate], and I think the other detail, which Drew alluded to, is we take the Twitter approach. Generally, the people I'm following on Facebook, there's maybe a few people I want to know what they're listening to, but generally those aren't the people I'm following to discover new music. Ninety-seven percent of the people I'm following on Rdio, I've actually never met before. I've never talked to them, but they just happen to have excellent taste in a particular genre or sub-genre or they happen to like the same band I like. But again, I don't know 97 percent of the people I'm following on Rdio just like I don't know most of the people I'm following on Twitter. The reason I'm following these people is because they're very specific curators of things I'm interested in, and that's not the way that Facebook works. And so, that's why we're different in that respect.
I think the other big reason is obviously the experience we come to the table with a lot of experience with not only consumer software services in generally, but specifically the music-streaming space. A lot of our engineers actually come from imeem, which was the world's biggest music-streaming service at one point. And we are incredibly focused on delivering the best experience out there. That's almost all we care about and we are in this for the long haul, we're in this to do a truly global music service the world's first, really. We're the only ones out there who've actually rolled out a global consumer business. We've actually been in business with most of the telecoms through Skype before and really have these relationships. We know what it takes to go into most of these countries, and so we have the experience as well to roll out a truly global service.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
However, the justice secretary, Jack Straw, is unlikely to back immediate reforms ending party patronage over Lords appointments as the all-party public administration select committee report recommended.
The key recommendations were leaked to the Guardian on Monday, including a proposal that political parties publish the full list of nominees put forward by political parties to a statutory appointments commission. It suggested the prime minister surrender to the commission his power of patronage in the Lords.
Straw's white paper will set out the areas of inter-party agreement on the future composition of the Lords and its powers in relations to the Commons.
The select committee argues that the government can push through reforms restricting party patronage immediately without waiting for comprehensive legislation on Lords reform, which are unlikely to be implemented until well into the next parliament.
Gordon Brown may be pressed to give his view today at a Downing Street press conference likely to be dominated by the state of the economy. Some Labour MPs are urging him to take up the proposals as a way of regaining the political initiative on trust in politics following the cash for honours affair.
The select committee proposals were strongly welcomed by the influential thinktank the Constitution Unit.
A poll recently commissioned by the Unit from Ipsos Mori shows 76% of the public say trust in the appointments process is "very important" to the legitimacy of the House of Lords.
Senior unit research fellow Dr Meg Russell said: "It cannot be right that the prime minister can decide how many people are appointed to the upper chamber of parliament, what the balance between the parties is and who the party appointees are."
The committee has recommended that there is new legislation on this matter, but Russell added: "We particularly welcome the committee's proposal that these changes be implemented straight away without legislation. The prime minister can give up these patronage powers tomorrow if he wishes."
Brown has already sounded a sceptical note over a bill in the Lords backed by 200 MPs and peers, and sponsored by Lord Steel, putting the Lords appointments commission on to a statutory footing, one of the key proposals of the select committee. The Steel bill, presented as a tidying up exercise by its backers, would also end hereditary byelections in the Lords and introduce a form of voluntary retirement for sitting peers, partly to keep numbers down.
The government has said it will take a neutral attitude to the Steel proposals, but not provide government legislative time. The white paper, due in the spring and the product of cross-party discussions, may also include some draft clauses on Lords reform to show sceptics that progress is being made.
Labour intends to place in its election manifesto a commitment to a largely elected upper chamber, and on that basis will push through the reform through the Lords using the Parliament Act.


text:
The XYZ Computer Desk gives a tough fight to all other gorgeous PC tables with built-in PC and computer peripherals present in the market when it comes to the form factor.
XYZ designed a desk/computer as beautiful as a Mac but easily upgradeable like a PC. All computer components and cable management is contained within the thickness of the desk, and when upgrading is required, the desk lid simply flips open. CDRW/DVD, USB and Hot Keys are located on the side of the desk.
The CDRW/DVD, USB and Hot Keys are located on the side of the desk. It looks to be a concept for the moment, but it would surely turn more than a few heads if it goes into production.
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text:
First Penny Mordaunt, now a Cabinet minister litters a parliamentary speech with dirty innuendos. Read all about the latest Commons smut in Guido's Sun on Sunday column here. Also in today's column, don't miss out on:
- LibDem chief whip Don Foster dozes off in Cabinet, don't tell Nick Clegg!
- Alistair Darling's money trouble
- UKIP's Suzanne Evans and Christine Hamilton clash over Rory Bremner
- Is sidelined Mary Creagh taking her new job seriously?
- Grant Shapps not having much luck with his numbers
- Nigel Farage warns David Cameron why Amjad Bashir could be after his job next
- Plotting underway in the Reeves family for life after Miliband
Click here to read Guido's column for free with a free 30-day trial…


text:
|For Journalists
|Paula Biles was diagnosed at an early age with CPO (chronic plant
obsession) and after graduate school the condition became severe.
The constant compulsion to have growing leaves and muddy hands
led to an obvious treatment -- water gardening.
|As a child, Kelly Billing was inspired to garden by her mother, who
taught her plant identification during long walks in the woods. This
love of nature and captivation with plants and flowers has remained
a constant in her life, and now she is instilling it in her own children.
|The Lotus:
Know It and Grow It
|by Kelly Billing & Paula Biles
|~ ~ ~ ~ ~
|~ ~ ~ ~ ~
|The last components of her successful treatment were to establish a
local pond club, work as managing editor of Pondkeeper magazine,
serve as executive director of the International Waterlily & Water
Gardening Society (IWGS), then travel to the Amazon and Thailand.
|Her therapy involved a steady dose of teaching and writing about
water gardens and aquatics. Rehabilitation was slow at first, but
before long she was lecturing, her articles and photographs were
published, plus she was speaking before local and national groups --
the perfect remedy for this affliction.
|Paula is married and lives in Bradenton, Florida, where thanks to
water gardening, her disease is now in remission.
|Edible plants and those with a history are of particular interest.
Lotus is her favorite since it is one of the world's most researched
plants and its magical wonder has yet to be fully discovered.
|She also writes for water gardening publications. Kelly speaks often
to nursery associations, horticultural societies, garden centers, and
garden clubs. She is passionate about the water gardening industry
and enjoys sharing her knowledge, especially with children.
|Kelly has worked for over twenty years as the Nursery Manager for
Maryland Aquatic Nurseries, Inc. She is co-author of the Water
Gardener's Bible (Rodale, 2008) and a regular columnist for Pond &
Garden Lifestyle (formerly Pondkeeper).


text: Healthcareassociated infections (HAIs) are one of the major problems of modernhealthcare. Pathogenic bacteria responsible for these HAIs are mostlytransmitted via surfaces. Emphasis on preventive measures can cumulativelyreduce associated costs and mortality related to HAIs. Antibacterial surfaceswithin healthcare settings have been considered as one of the approaches toreduce HAIs. Therefore, further development and wide use of antibacterialsurfaces in healthcare settings could be a step that helps to significantlyreduce the problem. Nanoparticles (NPs), plant extracts and other inorganicsubstances have been used for the production of antibacterial surfaces. Particularly,silver nanoparticles (AgNPs) have been shown to have broad-spectrumantibacterial properties, which has resulted in its wide use for fabricatingantibacterial products. NP production methods have also evolved continuously,but a production method that allows for continuous synthesis of NPs and theirdeposition on surfaces had been elusive until the development of Liquid FlameSpray (LFS). LFS enables high speed NP deposition without effluents, and it issuitable for producing large-area antibacterial surfaces. In this project, LFSwas used to deposit AgNPs onto paper, glass and fabrics to produceantibacterial surfaces. After NP deposition, scanning electron microscopy andatomic force microscopy (AFM) were used to visualize the samples. Surfacechemical characterization was done using x-ray photoelectron spectroscopy, andsilver leaching tests were analyzed using inductive coupled plasma-massspectroscopy. NP adhesion to substrates was improved using thin plasma polymercoating layer, as well as Al2O3 produced by atomic layerdeposition. Antibacterial properties were examined using a newly developed'Touch Test' method, which simulates the transfer of bacteria from one surfaceto another by touch. Imaging results showed that nanoparticles are produced,and multiple flame passes result in the deposition of more AgNPs on samplesurfaces. AFM scratch testing in contact mode confirmed results of improved NPadhesion by plasma coating. Antibacterial action against E. coli, S. aureus, and other bacteria was demonstrated, and in thecase of E. coli, also for samplesthat had a thin layer of plasma coating on top of AgNPs. The exact mechanism ofthe antibacterial effect from below the plasma coating requires furtherinvestigation, since usually a direct contact to AgNPs is assumed to be aprerequisite. However, the results of this study suggest that a thinimmobilizing layer can be used to improve the adhesion of AgNPs to substratesand to limit their exposure to environment, while still maintaining the desiredantibacterial properties.


text:
On February 18, 2013, OAP's Salvador Miranda headed to Owatonna to work with Centro Campesino youth preparing to travel to Washington, D.C. as advocates for immigration change. They will be joining the National Council of La Raza for the National Latino Advocacy Days on March 6-7. Stay tuned for more news soon about this group of young organizers!
Thank you to Robert McIntosh for documenting the training day in Owatonna. See more photos on OAP's Facebook page. Read about the day here.


text:
Can Augmented Reality help pilots keep safe?
Aviation Week Avionics and Safety Editor John Croft samples an Airbus vision system designed to provide helicopter pilots with cues needed to fly more safely at night and in degraded visual environments, including brownout and whiteout. The flight took place out of the Marana Regional Airport near Tucson on Sept. Refer to the website above for the video on the testing of this Augmented Reality.
Yours faithfully,


text:
Armin van Buuren interview
With the release of the new theatre movie; Wild Romance, on November 9th in mind, Armin van Buuren came up with a new version of Herman Brood's 'Saturday Night'. The single will be released on October 30th.
Back in 1978 Herman Brood wrote his biggest hit Saturday Night. However the song didn't become Herman's highest ranked song in the Dutch charts, it did become his most famous and characterizing song ever. Armin van Buuren's remix of Saturday Night will be released on October 30th but the associated videoclip will be launched two weeks earlier on all music stations. The single also contains the trailer of Wild Romance.
Armin van Buuren is one of the worlds leading DJ's. He's holding firm to 3rd place in the prestigious DJ MAG Top 100 for three years in a row now. Last year, Armin van Buuren also scored hits that made it into the Dutch charts with a.o. 'Shivers', 'Sail' and 'Serenity'. His hit tune of the moment; Armin van Buuren vs. Racoon - Love You More, was one of the highlights of his sold out Armin Only show in Ahoy which took place November 2005. On November 11th this year the event will take place again. From September 9th Armin got his own Radio show at the British radio station Kiss FM. It's the first time in history a Dutch man is broadcasted weekly on British air.
Jean van de Velde directed Wild Romance with main characters; Daniel Boissevain (Herman Brood) and Marcel Hensema (Koos). The film is showing the first 5 years (1974-1979) of Herman Brood's Rock 'n Roll career. When the young Koos van Dijk is searching for a podium act for his recently opened bar he runs in to the at the time unknown Herman Brood and it 's love at first sight. Together they head off to America to try their luck. Wild Romance is a movie about a unique friendship involving sex, drugs and Rock 'n Roll.
The single Saturday Night will be released on October 30th by Sony BMG together with Armada Music.
Independent Films will release Wild Romance in the Dutch cinemas from November 9th.


text:
As originally envisioned, the mission of VMPWI was to be for exclusively achieving some means of refurbishing the Bicentennial Memorial
Flag Pavilion located in Veterans Memorial Park. We got permission from the City of Wichita to proceed with that plan. The several
veterans groups who also had memorials within the Park clearly rejected the idea of joining in that project and made it abundantly
clear that they would not take park in it nor would they have any part of bringing their several memorials into the project.
Fund raising began and Rep. Todd Tiahrt became aware of our efforts. He offered to help if we would agree to "refurbish all other
Veteran's Memorials in the City of Wichita." We therefore made a survey of all such memorials outside of Veterans Memorial Park
and ascertained what repairs needed to be made. That information was conveyed to Rep. Tiahrt who shared it with Senator Sam Brownback.
Together they submitted two separate Grant Requests as earmarked bills in the FY 05 Federal Budget. Tiahrt's bill was for $250,000
exclusively for the Flag Pavilion, while Brownback's bill was for $350,000 to be used to refurbish all other memorials described
in the request.
Both budget requests were approved and signed in law by the President in late 2004. Funds actually arrived in July of 2005. The Flag
Pavilion money was allocate tot he City of Wichita which now assumed full responsibility for that installation under HUD Grant B-05-SP-0487.
This work was successfully completed in November of 2007. VMP:I assumed management responsibility for HUD Grant B-05-SP-KS085.
A secondary mission of VMPWI was development and initiation of a plan to keep those memorials maintained if no other entity was at
hand to do it.
Successfully complete the work of Operation Ensign, i.e. Refurbishing those Veterans' Memorials specifically described in the
Scope of HUD Grant B-05-SP-KS0085 efficiently and within the parameters of time and budget. These are those Veterans' Memorials
in Wichita (Excluding Veterans Memorial Park) which were clearly identified in the Grant, in need of repair and not otherwise endowed
or provided for by an identifiable agency.
Develop a plan for assuring continuing maintenance of those Veterans Memorials not otherwise endowed and establish and fund an endowment to provide the resources needed to keep those Memorials in good condition.
The Board of Directors of Veterans Memorial Park of Wichita, Inc. will select an appropriate agent to act as Project Manager for HUD
Grant B-05-SP-KS 0085, assure that the Grant is completed within the terms and requirements of HUD and other Government regulations,
maintain financial control of expenditures under the Grant and assure that all required reports and reviews are accomplished to assure
Three out of the four projects in the Grant are completed.
The fourth will be completed in this calendar year.
Responsibility for future care. Currently specific veteran's organizations are assuming care and management responsibility for a number
of Veterans Memorials. Each of them presently possesses a reserve of internal funding needed to defray the costs of maintaining their
own memorials. It is assumed that the goal of the Veterans community will be to gain access to the VMPWI-managed Future Funding Plan
reserve in the event repairs or rehabilitation beyond routine periodic servicing are required or there are no longer living members
of that group. It is our current plan that VMPWI will continue to administer those funds, with each separate sponsoring group applying
to VMPWI for access to them when needed.
Funding Plan. Develop a plan to raise the necessary funds required to establish the needed capital, to invest the proceeds at such
rates of interest that growth will occur according to the desired plan. It is suggested that, as a target, the assumption will be
that the present list of Veterans Memorials will be refurbished to such a condition that no significant repairs work will be anticipated
for a period of ten years from establishing the fund. (2007) It is assumed, therefore, that those agencies presently responsible for
the maintenance of the memorials will continue to provide needed routine maintenance in a diligent manner as required. It will be
the goal of the Future Funding Plan to continue to raise new capital. It must be further assumed that such organizations desiring
to enjoy access to that Future Funding Plan will contribute a portion of those existing or new funds to nourish the Future Funding
Plan in the time period between 2007 and the year 2017 to augment the growth of the accumulated and reinvested amount. Contribution
of financial aid to the Fund will be a condition required to gain access.


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Brydon and the gang in Guelph are hosting the next DemoCamp Guelph on Wednesday, April 14, 2010 at the The Ebar (41 Quebec St., Guelph, ON). They are hosting our good friend Rob Hyndman who is a co-organizer of #HoHoTO, MeshU, and Mesh Conference. He's also startup lawyer to the high tech stars. You can follow Rob on Twitter.
It's great to see the efforts to connect the community in Guelph.


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Now you can find my patterns at Uniqlos spring collection here.
Category Archives: Kids pattern
Round 2 in the GTS competition
Houses to kokka fabrics
Hedgehog fabric for Kokka
New print made to Kokka fabrics in Japan, soon in shops.
Train mug
Monthly calendar 2015
So fun to see my patterns in this monthly calendar from APJ in Japan.
You can find it here if you like to buy one:
There is also an weekly origami calendar that I will show you later this week 🙂
New blankets to Poops company
Earlier this Year I made a pattern to POOPS and now the blankets arrived, and they looks so nice! You can buy them here: http://www.poops.se/ or visit thier stand at Underbara barn mässan C09:11 this weekend.


text: Arari (the capital of watermelon!) is a 3h drive away and offers the cleanest bore conditions thanks to better weather and a narrower river. The Rio Mearim breaks in as many as 12 sections in a 1h30min journey from the rivermouth mudbank known as Cement Mix to the Arari village. The wave can range in size from a 8ft (2.5m) wall of whitewater to a tiny but superclean 1 to 2ft right. Auera Auara !


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The beach looked beautiful this morning. The wind was flapping into Alissa's face, bringing her to terms with the mangled smell of fish and wet sand. She sat there with her legs crossed, her back leaning against the wall made up of rough stone bricks. She had been staring far into the sea, where three children seemed to be having the time of their lives, while splashing themselves with water. Alissa looked at them with a shudder. She couldn't dream of going in to the water here; her experience with bluebottles as a child had evidently left a scar.
'I've been waiting here forever, Imaan,' Alissa complained, looking up at her. She was flicking her palm against the stone bricks that Alissa was seated on, trying to remove the sand before propping herself on it. 'You were supposed to be here an hour ago.'
'Sorry, babe,' Imaan said, trying to keep her hair from flying into her eyes. 'I had to babysit Danyal, and his parents didn't show up on time. You know how my aunt is.' She rolled her eyes.
'Okay, okay, I get it,' Alissa said, jokingly raising her arms in surrender. 'You aren't answerable to me; anyway, you can treat me like a slave.'
Imaan laughed. She was used to Alissa's cynical style of speaking. 'Shut up, you moron,' she told her, pushing her lightly. Alissa scooted to a side, making space for her friend.
'Now, fill me in,' she said, ordered. They did not meet usually in the middle of the week, but Alissa had insisted that the two meet immediately. She must have had something important to say, because this behavior was very unusual for her. Imaan had come without hesitating; she knew her best friend too well to take the change behavior lightly.
The smell of fish mingled with the smell of tea and smoked pulses wafted through the wind and into their nostrils. It was a pleasant evening, a rare treat during the hot, prolonged summers of Karachi. It wasn't a usual spot for the girls to meet at, but Alissa had insisted on meeting at the beach, and Imaan had obliged. Alissa's behavior, at most times, was stereotypical. This, however, was quite unlike her and Imaan couldn't help but wonder if her friend was keeping a secret from her.
She hoped whatever it was did not have anything to do with her boyfriend, Hassam. She didn't like that man one bit. She felt an odd, eerie sensation whenever he was around. It was the very first time that she had seen Alissa fall so hard for someone. They had their usual crushes in school, but the thought of Alissa getting serious with someone like him was absolutely unpredictable. She had never understood what Alissa saw in him, and had even told her so on more than one occasion, on which Alissa had glared at her so ferociously, that Imaan had bit her lip and fallen quiet. Imaan crossed her fingers and hoped that if it had to be about him then, in the least, let her have broken up with him. She was more than ready to wipe her tears off and help heal her broken heart.
As Imaan sat there, waiting for her friend to break the news to her, her mind wandered over the various possibilities. The two girls had been together since their diaper days. Back when their mothers worked in concert and their fathers played golf together, the two of them had spent every single day with each other. Now that they were older – old, college going girls – they met less often. However, even though their meetings became more and more spaced out, they always met with the same vigor. There was always the same amount of giggling and gossiping, and infinite anecdotes about the time they spent apart. To the world, and even to themselves, they were inseparable: like a single soul in two different bodies.
'Are you ready to go horse riding?' Alissa asked Imaan, testing the rocks below with her toe before planting her feet firmly on them and jumping down to the sandy beach below.
'You're ignoring me, Alissa,' Imaan noticed.
'I'll tell you, don't worry,' Alissa said. 'I just want to have some fun first.'
Imaan sighed. 'Okay,' she said, not entirely sure of herself. 'Race you to the shore, knucklehead!'
They spent the next one hour riding horses, chasing each other up and down the beach, collecting broken seashells and clearly having a blast. When both of them were too tired to do anything else, they traipsed through the parking lot and collapsed onto the grass in the small park opposite the beach. They both were munching on corns they had purchased from the vendor at the beach. If one could experience heaven on Earth, this was it.
Once both of them fell quiet, Imaan concentrated on her best friend's face. She was gorgeous. Her big, attractive eyes were the deepest shade of brown. The white checked shirt that she was wearing brought out the best of her features. Her jet black, straight, waist-length hair hung loosely around her face, batting around under the influence of the wind. Even under the most stressful conditions, she had a smile plastered on her face.
But not right now.
Something was clearly troubling her. She never got too serious. Her face was turned downwards into a grimace, her forehead wrinkled, and her expression thoughtful.
'Is everything okay?' Imaan asked her, concerned.
'I've something to tell you, Imaan,' Alissa said.
'About time,' Imaan laughed. 'You called me here to tell me something, but you've been putting it off all day. My stomach is bursting with curiosity!'
Alissa did not seem to share Imaan's enthusiasm. She fiddled around with her fingers, and, for the first time that day, Imaan noticed something sparkle on Alissa's left hand.
Surely not, no. She thought, her insides quivering. No, please God, no.
'And all those fairytales are full of it, one more stupid love song I'll be sick, now I'm at a payphone,'
The sweet, soothing voice of Maroon 5 boomed out of Alissa's earphones. She had been listening to this song over and over again for the past week. It was just so addictive. Sitting here, by the pool waiting for Hassam, this song seemed to spell out her life. After days and days of begging, Hassam had finally agreed to meet her at the pool. She had decided that if he didn't agree to meet her this time, she would threaten to break off their engagement. That ought to bring him back to his senses. She wanted to spend all of her free time with him, but apparently, he didn't think so. He kept telling her that he was too busy with work. If she didn't know better, she would have almost thought he was avoiding her, purposely. It made her furious to think he expected her to make all the compromises.
She had met Hassam at a seminar held on writing techniques. She, and a fellow classmate, Maheen Farooq, had been assigned to sit together. Maheen had backed out at the last minute, explaining that she had a bad migraine and listening to those workshop leaders would definitely make it worse. Instead of sitting down next to Maheen's empty seat, she had seated herself next to a young, tired looking man. He was wearing a red and black checked shirt, with denim Levi Strauss jeans. His hair was gelled into a Mohawk, and the look on his face spelt boredom.
After about twenty minutes of the four-hour seminar, Alissa had engaged herself into chatting with the boy sitting next to her. He had introduced himself as Hassam, and told her that he was there just to earn some extra credit hours. He was least interested in learning what the speaker had to say, and kept making snide remarks about people's dressing and accents. For most people, this would be a huge turn off. As for Alissa, she found herself more and more intrigued with his personality. By the end of the four-hour session, they had exchanged numbers and were talking like they were the best of friends.
Three weeks later, Hassam had asked her out. Not wanting to damage her friendship with him, and at the same time wanting to get to know him better, Alissa had said yes. It was, according to her, probably the best decision she had ever made.
Alissa sighed, looking around. She had been sitting there for over an hour now. There was still no sign of Hassam. She shifted slightly, to make herself more comfortable. She put a hat on her face to shield herself from the sun, and she felt herself feeling drowsy.
Instead of falling asleep, her mind dwelled deeper and deeper into her memories, coming to a stop two months back, when Hassam had proposed to her. To most, it would have seemed like the most unromantic proposal ever to have occurred. It would have made all the Disney princesses turn in their graves. To Alissa, however, it was the best day of her life. She had been sitting at Subway, munching heartily on her six-inch Chicken Teriyaki, and working insanely to meet a deadline for the magazine she worked for. Hassam, as usual, hung around with her, doing his own work. He worked at ABQ and Co., a local software manufacturing company, and Alissa thought he was very smart. She was very proud of him, and to an extent, felt intimidated by his success.
However, that very day, he had seemed distracted throughout, and she had thought that maybe he had had a bad day at work. After all, Hassam worked way too hard. His boss was taking advantage of his intelligence and kindness. Alissa thought that he was too innocent, and he hadn't learnt how to say no to the world. He seemed to be ready to oblige everyone, including her, all the time. He had spoilt her rotten, and she hoped that he kept that up, or else she would hit her head very hard when she fell back on earth.
He had randomly put his Redbull down, and asked her to marry him. Alissa was taken aback, of course. After all, how many girls expected a marriage proposal to come their way, randomly, in a sandwich shop? She came to her senses quickly enough, however. There was lots and lots of screaming, most of it done by her. Then she had said yes. Yes, of course, she would love to marry him. She was happy, but she couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face. She was the luckiest girl in the whole, wide world.
Alissa felt a pang of nostalgia. Things were so different now. One would have never imagined things could change in such a short span of time.
It was as if she was not important to him anymore. Ever since he had proposed to her, he seemed to take her for granted, like she was his personal possession. Like she had come with a price tag attached to her forehead.
Earlier, she would have loved being treated like his possession. Now, it was getting a little irksome. Alissa wanted to sort things out with her fiancé, before they got worse.
She tugged at her jet black hair, stretched, and laid back on the blue and green striped chair. She had been sitting here in her dark green shirt – Hassam's favorite –for ages, now; she was getting irritated. When they had first started going out, Hassam would make sure that he was there at least ten minutes before she arrived anywhere. Now, however, he was nearly always late. Alissa didn't like to complain, but this was really getting to her now.
If this was how it would be once they got married, maybe they shouldn't be getting married at all. She wondered whether Imaan had been right about him all along, but dismissed that idea as soon as it came.
She let out a loud sigh, her mind wandering to the conversation she had had with her best friend earlier the same day. It had been horrible.
'I'm getting married, Imaan,' Alissa had said, noticing Imaan's eyes on the tiny, beautifully cut, diamond ring on her third finger. The manner in which she had said that had been very simple, but there was no mistaking, looking at the twinkle in her eyes, that she had already skipped off to cloud nine. She had expected Imaan to explode with excitement; instead she saw the smile being wiped off her face. She wasn't sure what to say, but Imaan had managed to save her the trouble.
'You're getting married to Hassam, you say,' she had said, her teeth clenched. 'You're getting married to him, even after I told you to get rid of him as soon as possible?' She looked at Alissa incredulously, like she had lost her mind.
'Imaan, I love him,' she said. 'And he loves me. We make each other happy. Why can't you see that?'
'Because, Alissa, I see what you can't see,' Imaan said, trying inexplicably to explain her feelings to best friend. She knew she had no solid reason to oppose her marriage to Hassam. On a whim, however, she knew that it was a bad, bad idea. If there was one thing Imaan had learnt over the years, it was to stick to her guts. Right now, her guts were screaming 'Run!' She would give away her life to explain her instincts to Alissa, but she knew it was probably too late for that.
'What did your parents say, Alissa?' Imaan asked, hoping she could get them on her side. 'Have you told them yet?'
'They agreed,' Alissa said, a slight smile spreading across her face. She was much too excited about this whole thing, already.
'Have they even met Hassam?' Imaan asked. 'What about his parents?'
'Imaan, Hassam's parents are dead,' she said, flatly. 'He has no relatives in Pakistan. Yes, my parents have met him, and they adored him. Why wouldn't they, anyway?'
Imaan was flabbergasted. She felt helpless, unable to transfer her hesitance into Alissa. She knew she was fighting a long lost battle. There was just one way left now, and that was blackmail. Surely, Alissa would consider their friendship over Hassam.
'But Imaan,' Alissa pleaded, 'You have got to listen to me!'
Imaan had already gotten up, and was now making her way across the park to the street where her Toyota was parked.
'No!' she screamed. 'You've said enough, Alissa!'
'But, can't you try to understand?'
'Please, for my sake?'
'No, no, no!'
Alissa stood back and watched her car pull away. She had thought Imaan would understand how she felt about Hassam, and wouldn't judge her feelings. She had never tried to impose her own views over Imaan's before. Why couldn't, just for once, she do the same?
She had felt helpless standing there, not knowing what to do next. In her confusion, she had absently dialed Hassam's number, and hummed as she was made to listen to his caller tune. She was jerked from her trail of thoughts only when Hassam received her call on the other end.
'Hello, Hassam here, what's up?' Hassam spoke, in his usual casual manner.
'Trouble,' she'd replied, morosely, 'Imaan won't talk to me.'
'Why not? Hassam sounded genuinely concerned.
'I told her about us,' Alissa said. 'I know her so well; I should have known she would react like this. I thought that maybe, just maybe, she would be more excited for me rather than think about her grudge against you.' Alissa hung her head. 'I'll talk to you later, Hassam, I've to get home. My mother is taking me out for shopping. Will we meet somewhere, today?'
'I'll see,' he had said, vaguely and Alissa had felt her blood boil. Why could he not sound excited to meet her for a change.
'Bye,' she had said, simply, before snapping her phone shut.
Her thoughts returned to Imaan and she collapsed into a heap onto the grass below. She needed time to think. Imaan and she had been together for way too long, they couldn't possibly drift apart now; especially now that she was about to get married.
That one word was the root of all her problems. Imaan had never really liked Hassam before, either. She had always assumed it was a stupid fling, and that Alissa would eventually get over it. The thing was, even though Alissa loved Imaan to bits, she was head over heels in love with her fiancé too. It was stupid, however, to expect Imaan to support them through something as humongous as that. Alissa should have known better than to break the news to her like that. She felt stupid, stupid to believe that Imaan would forget everything and celebrate with her, stupid that Imaan wouldn't get upset when she found out that Alissa had paid no heed to her warnings. She was stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Even saying that a dozen times, didn't make her feel any better.


text: peterstepon 14 Posted March 13, 2012 Jericho reach has done a great job in explaining the overall grand strategy of the war. I am sure many people are speculating about what the proper course of action would be to end the war with a victory. After reading it, a few thoughts came to my mind 1/ Take Vanity, that would be a major foothold in the war against Chaos, which is the central war. That would be used as a strategic springboard further into the salent. Surging Space marines and/or Deathwatch kill teams would probably tip the balance there since it is a war fought by specialists anyway. 2/ Bombard a planet about to be devoured by Tyranids. This was suggested in Achilles assault, but the idea of launching a kill ship on a planet when it is being devoured by a hive ship would be a great way to reduce the biomass of Hive Fleet Dagon 3/ Invite a company of Imperial Fists to Hethgard. Make the Tyranids throw themselves against a vast city of fortresses fortified by defences bolstered by a Chapter which specializes in defence. If there are other Space Marines there such as Space Wolves and Storm Wardens (suggested by the core book), then it would mean that the Tyranids would burn through serious biomass trying to take it. 4/ Send a request for the Minotaurs. Seriously, a Space Marine force which always appears in Chapter strength and is well equiped would act as a sledgehammer at one point of the campaign. Pick a planet that absolutely needs to be won like Khazant and send them there to basicallly demolish the defences. Alternatively, have them boarding Chaos ships or Tyranid hive ships since they excel in Close combat. 5/ Make peace with the Tau, or at least a ceasefire. Have 3 fronts cut down to 2. Find ways to redirect that awesome Tau firepower against Chaos and the Tyranids. Jericho reach and Achillus assault suggest that back channel talks are taking place. Find a way to sabotage Ebongrave so he turns his attentions elsewhere. Sure the Tau are a xenos threat that must be exterminated, but wait until the other treats are eliminated before wacking them with full force. They are in many ways the lesser evil compared to the other nightmares humanity must face in the galaxy. Find some radical members of the ordo Xenos who would support such a plan. Any other thoughts to bring victory to the Imperium? Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites


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The Salcombe/Kingsbridge Estuary is a picturesque body of water located in the South West of England in an Area of Natural Beauty (AONB). There are some stunning coastal walks and views surround this estuary but its real highlight has to be the miles of creeks and coves within the relative shelter of the natural harbour, making it a perfect place to SUP in the south west.
Salcombe is a popular destination and has all the charms of the Mediterranean with clear waters and golden beaches, it also benefits from a micro climate which allows the growth of tropical plants not found anywhere else in the UK. Locally it is known as Sunny Salcombe, it just may be a little cooler at certain times of year!
The formation of the Estuary means there is always a nice sheltered spot to SUP and plenty see and explore en route, planning the tides means you can also make an exploration day much easier allowing you the casually cruise along and soak up the scenery.
There are 40km of to creeks paddle around and an abundance of wildlife such as seals, cormorants, kingfishers, egrets, bass, grey mullet, place, seahorses, and a pod of dolphins has also previously been spotted around the harbour too!
The scenery changes on every section of this paddle as well as at different times of the year.
In the summer, vibrant greenery surrounds you with a bustling atmosphere on and off the water. Autumn brings the oranges and browns and low lying light hitting the water creating amazing reflections on those calm glassy days.
Winter feels peaceful with little water activity from other boats, you can truly lose yourself in your thoughts concentrating on the sound of the water. Spring brings the rebirth of life and rich colours return with nesting birds and the hope of warmer and longer days to enjoy the SUP adventures for a new year.
This really is a beautiful place to paddle board, all year round.
Route Directions
- .Launch from either North or South Sands in Salcombe and head up the river in a northerly direction for 2km. If you stay on the right hand side there are plenty of golden beaches to stop off at on the way to either take it all in, go for a dip or just to wiggle your toes in the sand!
- .The heart of Salcombe will appear on your left, go a little further until you see plenty of yacht masts and houses in the far distance (Kingsbridge) paddle across to this area which is called 'The Bag'
- .There are plenty of pontoons and coves you can stop in as your travel through the bag for around 1km, you will then get to a wider expanse of water know as 'Widegates'. The choice to go to Blanksmill, Collapit or Frogmore are options for another day if desired from here.
- .You should notice a boatyard on your left (Lincombe) and also some red and white poles on the left hand side in the water, these mark the channels and will lead you all the way up to Kingsbridge (3km) following the deepest water. (Keep them on your left)
- .Kingsbridge has an assortment of shops and cafes and some great pubs, The Crabshell Inn has a pontoon for SUPers to use courtesy of Waterborn and it is a great spot for a spot for lunch before your return journey on the tide.
Local Knowledge
There is some parking located around the North Sands area.
Launch from North or South Sands in Salcombe.
Or you can easily do this route in reverse with an early morning breakfast paddle from Kingsbridge to Salcombe, Captain Morgan's at Whitestrand in the town centre or The Winking Prawn at North Sands are good breakfast stops!
If you want a guided tour of the wrecks and deep history of the Estuary then the staff at Waterborn offer SUP tours so you don't miss a thing! They specialise in beginner lessons and hire is also available for those that have SUPed before.
Things to know
- This route is on a working estuary so keep an eye out for traffic on the water and around the edges too, there are handfuls of old lime kilns that used to be use in industrial side of Salcombe's history.
- It is essential that you check the tides prior to setting off to make sure you have enough water to get too/from your given location.
- 'Widegates' is prone to wind conditions, most other locations are fairly sheltered depending on the direction of the wind.


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The Campanile Center for the Arts is thrilled to announce a new program
You may recall hearing that we lost one the financial founders of the Campanile, Ken Ozinga, earlier this year. He was truly one of the drivers who not only brought the Campanile into existence, but shepherded it along the way. In his honor, we have started an endowment fund to support the new initiative of school daytime shows here at the Campanile. We are calling it Ken's Kids at the Campanile. This fund, with an initial gift provided by St. Matthias Thrift Shop, will insure that Ken's memory live on and his dream of providing access to the arts for area youth is realized. If you wish to contribute to this fund, please call Sandy Madden at 715-356-9700.
Exposure to live theater ignites a child's imagination in a unique way, opening the door to a greater understanding of the world and a life-long love of the arts. This year's program will welcome the multi-disciplinary group CATAPULT to the Campanile stage.
How to reserve a place for your students? Call the Campanile office at 715-356-9700. Spots are filling up fast. Be sure to reserve today!
CLICK HERE to download a copy of the Educator's Guide.


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Preparations are underway for another fabulous ArtSplash! affair at Black Rock Ocean Front Resort in Ucluelet from March 14th to March 22nd 2015.
ArtSplash! is once again running concurrently with the Pacific Rim Whale Festival and visitors from near and far will be here to see and buy your art works! ArtSplash! exhibits all mediums of art making. We invite work from young and emerging artists as well as established artists in all stages of their careers.
There will be an invitational opening reception on Friday, March 13th at 7pm, and the exhibit will be open from 10am – 8pm daily until March 22nd.
You will need to submit your registration form by 5:00 pm, Friday, March 6th. You can also pick one up at Reflecting Spirit Gallery both in Tofino and Ucluelet, and at the PRAS Artspace on Main Street, Ucluelet (below High Tide Records).
Click Here to download the 2015 Artist Registraion Form!
Some important dates for you to mark down:
Application Form deadline: March 6th by 5pm
Art Drop Off Day: March 10th between 3-7pm
Opening Reception: March 13th @ 7pm
Art show hours: 10am-8pm daily
Closing day: March 22nd 10am-2pm
Art Pick up: March 22nd 2pm -6pm
Thank you to Cindy Mawle for her beautiful painting featuring on this year's poster. It one the 2014 people's choice - who will win this year?


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Is any city at the Costa del Sol, or Spain for that matter, so nice to visit over Christmas as Malaga?
Tourists who come from the north of Europe often find Christmas in Spain… well, not Christmassy. It lacks the cold and snow that create the right atmosphere. Not so Malaga!
Malaga is actually becoming famous for its brilliant Christmas atmosphere.
|Malaga city centre in December.
For in December, Malaga looks like one big Christmas tree!
The beautiful lights turn the city centre into a fairy tale.
Head for the famous shopping street Calle Larios, or straight to the Christmas market.
The market is located in the park in the centre, just behind the port.
It takes place from 11 AM to 10 PM, every day until January 5th and is the place to be to find arts and crafts, interesting and fun gifts as well as sweet treats.
Elsewhere in the province of Malaga, also the Christmas market of Benalmadena is definitely worth a visit.
This market takes place in the Av. Antonio Machado, also until January 5th.
Mediterranean, in the most southern tip of Europe… and still a real Christmas feel. You will not regret it.
Dear reader, let us grab this opportunity to wish you a very nice December and a very Merry Christmas!
Feliz Navidad!