Digital Fortress Chapter 76-80

Part 76 Outside the Seville air terminal, a taxi sat inactive, the meter running. The traveler in the wire-edge glasses looked through the fortified glass windows of the sufficiently bright terminal. He realized he'd showed up in time. He could see a light young lady. She was helping David Becker to a seat. Becker was obviously in torment. He doesn't yet know torment, the traveler thought. The young lady pulled a little item from her pocket and held it out. Becker held it up and examined it in the light. At that point he slipped it on his finger. He pulled a heap of bills from his pocket and paid the young lady. They talked a couple of moments longer, and afterward the young lady embraced him. She waved, bore her duffel, and took off over the concourse. Finally, the man in the taxi thought. Finally. Part 77 Strathmore ventured out of his office onto the arrival with his firearm leveled. Susan trailed not far behind, thinking about whether Hale was still in Node 3. The light from Strathmore's screen behind them tossed frightful shadows of their bodies out over the ground stage. Susan crawled nearer to the officer. As they moved away from the entryway, the light blurred, and they were dove into dimness. The main light on the Crypto floor originated from the stars above and the swoon dimness from behind the broke Node 3 window. Strathmore crawled forward, searching for where the tight flight of stairs started. Changing the Berretta to one side hand, he grabbed for the rail with his right. He figured he was likely similarly as awful a shot with his left, and he required his appropriate for help. Tumbling down this specific arrangement of steps could injure somebody forever, and Strathmore's fantasies for his retirement didn't include a wheelchair. Susan, blinded by the obscurity of the Crypto vault, plummeted with a hand on Strathmore's shoulder. Indeed, even at the separation of two feet, she was unable to see the officer's layout. As she ventured onto each metal track, she rearranged her toes forward searching for the edge. Susan started reconsidering about gambling a visit to Node 3 to get Hale's pass-key. The authority demanded Hale wouldn't have the guts to contact them, yet Susan wasn't so certain. Robust was frantic. He had two alternatives: Escape Crypto or go to prison. A voice continued revealing to Susan they should sit tight for David's call and utilize his pass-key, yet she knew there was no assurance he would even discover it. She considered what was taking David such a long time. Susan gulped her worry and continued onward. Strathmore plummeted quietly. There was no compelling reason to caution Hale they were coming. As they approached the base, Strathmore eased back, feeling for the last advance. At the point when he discovered it, the impact point of his loafer tapped on hard dark tile. Susan felt his shoulder tense. They'd entered the threat zone. Solidness could be anyplace. Out there, presently taken cover behind TRANSLTR, was their goal Node 3. Susan asked Hale was still there, lying on the floor, whining in torment like the pooch he was. Strathmore let go of the railing and exchanged the weapon back to his correct hand. Without a word, he moved out into the murkiness. Susan held tight to his shoulder. On the off chance that she lost him, the main way she'd discover him again was to talk. Solidness may hear them. As they moved away from the wellbeing of the steps, Susan reviewed late-night rounds of tag as a child she'd ventured out from command post, she was in the open. She was helpless. TRANSLTR was the main island in the huge dark ocean. Each couple of steps Strathmore halted, firearm ready, and tuned in. The main sound was the swoon murmur from beneath. Susan needed to pull him back, back to wellbeing, back to command post. There appeared to be faces in obscurity all around her. Most of the way to TRANSLTR, the quiet of Crypto was broken. Some place in the obscurity, apparently directly on them, a sharp blaring penetrated the night. Strathmore spun, and Susan lost him. Frightful, Susan shot her arm out, grabbing for him. In any case, the administrator was no more. The space where his shoulder had been was currently simply void air. She lurched forward into the vacancy. The signaling clamor proceeded. It was close by. Susan wheeled in the haziness. There was a stir of dress, and out of nowhere the signaling halted. Susan solidified. A moment later, as though from one of her most exceedingly terrible youth bad dreams, a dream showed up. A face emerged legitimately before her. It was spooky and green. It was the essence of an evil presence, sharp shadows extending upward across distorted highlights. She bounced back. She went to run, however it got her arm. â€Å"Don't move!† it directed. For a moment, she thought she saw Hale in those two consuming eyes. In any case, the voice was not Hale's. Also, the touch was excessively delicate. It was Strathmore. He was lit from underneath by a gleaming article that he'd quite recently pulled from his pocket. Her body hang with alleviation. She felt herself begin breathing once more. The article in Strathmore's grasp had a type of electronic LED that was radiating a greenish sparkle. â€Å"Damn,† Strathmore reviled softly. â€Å"My new pager.† He gazed in nauseate at the SkyPager in his palm. He'd neglected to draw in the quiet ring highlight. Amusingly, he'd gone to a nearby hardware store to purchase the gadget. He'd paid money to keep it mysterious; no one knew better than Strathmore how intently the NSA watched their own-and the computerized messages sent and got from this pager were something Strathmore unquestionably expected to keep hidden. Susan glanced around precariously. On the off chance that Hale hadn't realized they were coming, he knew now. Strathmore squeezed a couple of catches and read the approaching message. He moaned discreetly. It was all the more awful news from Spain-not from David Becker, yet from the other party Strathmore had sent to Seville. 3,000 miles away, a portable reconnaissance van sped along the obscured Seville lanes. It had been appointed by the NSA under â€Å"Umbra† mystery from an army installation in Rota. The two men inside were tense. It was not the first occasion when they'd got crisis orders from Fort Meade, yet the requests didn't for the most part originate from so high up. The operator in the driver's seat brought behind him. â€Å"Any indication of our man?† The eyes of his accomplice never left the feed from the wide-edge video screen on the rooftop. â€Å"No. Keep driving.† Part 78 Underneath the curving mass of links, Jabba was perspiring. He was still on his back with a penlight grasped in his teeth. He'd become accustomed to working late on ends of the week; the less rushed NSA hours were frequently the main occasions he could perform equipment upkeep. As he moved the super hot patching iron through the labyrinth of wires above him, he moved with outstanding consideration; burning any of the dangling sheathes would be calamity. Simply one more barely any inches, he thought. The activity was taking far longer than he'd envisioned. Similarly as he brought the tip of the iron against the last string of crude weld, his mobile phone rang strongly. Jabba alarmed, his arm jerked, and a huge glob of sizzling, melted lead fell on his arm. â€Å"Shit!† He dropped the iron and essentially gulped his penlight. â€Å"Shit! Poo! Shit!† He scoured angrily at the drop of cooling weld. It moved off, leaving an amazing welt. The chip he was attempting to patch set up dropped out and hit him in the head. â€Å"Goddamn it!† Jabba's telephone called him once more. He overlooked it. â€Å"Midge,† he reviled faintly. Damn you! Crypto's fine! The telephone rang on. Jabba returned to work reseating the new chip. A moment later the chip was set up, yet his telephone was all the while ringing. For the wellbeing of Christ, Midge! Surrender it! The telephone rang an additional fifteen seconds lastly halted. Jabba inhaled a moan of help. After sixty seconds the radio overhead popped. â€Å"Would the boss Sys-Sec please contact the fundamental switchboard for a message.† Jabba feigned exacerbation in dismay. She simply doesn't surrender, isn't that right? He overlooked the page. Section 79 Strathmore supplanted his Skypager in his pocket and looked through the obscurity toward Node 3. He went after Susan's hand. â€Å"Come on.† Be that as it may, their fingers never contacted. There was a long throaty cry from out of the obscurity. A roaring figure lingered a Mack truck hunkering down without any headlights. A moment later, there was an impact and Strathmore was slipping over the floor. It was Hale. The pager had parted with them. Susan heard the Berretta fall. For a second she was planted set up, uncertain where to run, what to do. Her senses advised her to get away, however she didn't have the lift code. Her heart advised her to help Strathmore, yet how? As she spun in franticness, she expected to hear the hints of a real existence and-passing battle on the floor, yet there was nothing. Everything was out of nowhere quiet as though Hale had hit the authority and afterward vanished go into the night. Susan paused, stressing her eyes into the haziness, trusting Strathmore wasn't do any harm. After what appeared to be an unfathomable length of time, she murmured, â€Å"Commander?† Indeed, even as she said it, she understood her misstep. A moment later Hale's smell gushed behind her. She turned past the point of no return. Abruptly, she was turning, panting for air. She ended up squashed in a recognizable headlock, her face against Hale's chest. â€Å"My balls are executing me.† Hale gasped in her ear. Susan's knees clasped. The stars in the vault started to turn over her. Part 80 Solidness cinched down on Susan's neck and shouted into the dimness. â€Å"Commander, I have your darling. I need out!† His requests were met with quietness. Solidness' grasp fixed. â€Å"I'll break her neck!† A firearm positioned legitimately behind them. Strathmore's voice was quiet and even. â€Å"Let her go.† Susan flinched in torment. â€Å"Commander!† Solidness spun Susan's body toward the sound. â€Å"You shoot and you'll hit your valuable Susan. You prepared to take that chance?† Strathmore's voice drew nearer. â€Å"Let her go.† â€Å"No way. You'll slaughter me.† â€Å"I'm not go

Essay on school uniforms Essay

Envision having the option to get up each morning, turn up, put on something very similar you wore the day preceding, and head off to class. In addition to the fact that you would have the option to do something like this, however the entirety of your companions were doing it, as well! Sound unrealistic? All things considered, it’s getting increasingly basic in our general public as school outfits have gone past non-public schools to state funded schools. Garbs positively affect students’ confidence, participation, control, and grades. They have likewise been demonstrated to diminish the pace of wrongdoing and brutality in government funded schools. Most understudies and even guardians will contend that SCHOOL UNIFORMS smother independence. The high school years are when youths evaluate various personas, regularly exploring different avenues regarding various styles of apparel during this stage. Rivals contend that garbs remove an individual’s opportunity of articulation. In any case, the garments that individuals wear, or can stand to wear, frequently characterize the gathering by which they are acknowledged. Therefore, numerous youngsters are outsider because of the way that they can't manage the cost of the highest point of-the-line, name-brand garments. This dismissal can prompt a few issues for the untouchable adolescent: gloom, failure to focus on homework, or only a general sentiment of inadequacy. School garbs put everybody on a similar level on the grounds that no outfit is more sleek or costly than another. Linda Moore, chief at Will Rogers Middle School in Long Beach, California, states, â€Å"Uniforms lessen the contrasts between those who are well off and have-nots† (Ritter, 1). Outfits permit understudies to interface with each other without encountering the financial boundary that non-uniform schools make. All the more critically, youngsters are not decided on the amount they spent on garments or how slick they look, yet rather for their abilities and characters. School garbs separate financial hindrances, however they additionally increment the wellbeing of the understudies. In 1996, President Bill Clinton energized the utilization of school regalia as a major aspect of training program that looked to improve security and control (Hoffman, 1). On the off chance that understudies are for the most part wearing a similar kind of outfit, it turns out to be a lot simpler to spot outsidersâ who may meander onto the grounds. Likewise, regalia decline the quantity of frequencies of understudies being assaulted or beaten for things of dress, for example, shoes and coats. Additionally, individuals from groups every now and again have a shading or style of garments used to recognize themselves. Clueless understudies who wear posse hues or pack related clothing may be undermined or scared by individuals from restricting groups, understudies wearing costly or popular garments may become survivors of robbery, or certain style extras or clothing might be utilized as a methods for hiding weapons, or even as weapons (Paliokas, 1). At a school in Long Beach, California, after just the primary year that regalia were executed, generally speaking school wrongdoing diminished 36 percent, battles diminished 51 percent, sex offenses diminished 74 percent, weapons offenses diminished 50 percent, threatening behavior offenses diminished 34 percent, and vandalism diminished 18 percent (Manual, 3). Schools with uniform-clad understudies are likewise demonstrated to have less disciplinary issues and expanded participation than non-uniform schools. Dr. John German, head of South Shore, situated in Seattle, Washington, reports, â€Å"This year the attitude in the school has improved 98 percent, truancy and tardies are down, and we have not had one announced occurrence of theft† (Manual,4). Ruffner Middle School, situated in Norfolk, Virginia, reports a 47 percent decline in understudies leaving class without consent (Manual,5). With the usage of outfits, understudies no longer go through hours choosing what they are going to wear to class. This dread of looking â€Å"uncool† will frequently make kids conclude that they don't feel all around ok to go to class since they can’t discover anything to wear. Garbs permit understudies to concentrate more on their scholastics, and less on what every other person is wearing. As per Long Beach police boss William Ellis, â€Å"Students focus more on training, not on who’s wearing $100 shoes or posse attire† (Manual, 3). Rudimentary Guidance Counselor Sharon Carter of Memphis, Tennessee states, â€Å"The tone of the school is unique. There’s not the competitiveness†¦about who’s wearing what† (Manual, 5). Numerous families stress over not having enough cash to purchase outfits. Because of the way that no kid can be precluded an instruction in light of the fact that from securing economicâ disadvantage, all schools requiring outfits must incorporate arrangements to help low-pay families. For instance, the Long Beach School District tackled this issue by setting up a boutique shop, subsidized by private givers, where penniless understudies can shop (Paliokas, 5). What's more, network and business pioneers give or contribute monetary help to regalia, and understudies who have graduated regularly give their pre-owned garbs to approaching understudies (Manual, 3). In any case, outfits are significantly less expensive to purchase than non-uniform garments, and the understudies can wear them consistently and it isn’t thought about surprising. Guardians can purchase a couple of sets of jeans, shirts, or different varieties of a uniform for under $100, while guardians of non-uniform-wearing understudies can spend from a few hundred up to $1,000 per year on garments. Guardians find that purchasing a few regalia is at last less expensive than purchasing garments to follow the prevailing fashions, and it stops contentions at home in the mornings about what to wear (Oland, 1). Mainstream society progressively sends little youngsters the message that the littler and more tightly the garments, the more promptly they will be acknowledged. These outfits, which display navels and bra lashes, are diverting, however cheapen instructing time as instructors contend with understudies about what is viewed as satisfactory clothing. With regalia, there are just a couple of worthy varieties of the outfit, no inquiries posed. A less notable hypothesis concerning the geniuses of school outfits is the â€Å"halo effect.† According to scientist Marc Posner, the â€Å"halo effect† alludes to the possibility that while regalia may not change understudy conduct, the garbs may change the manner in which educators and different grown-ups see the understudies who wear them. In an investigation of the relationship of understudy attire and educator and understudy discernments, Dorothy Behling of Bowling Green University found that understudies and instructors the same accept that uniform-clad understudies act better, yet in addition improve scholastically than the individuals who don’t wear garbs. While this might be a dream, these positive observations can help make an unavoidable outcome that instructors and chairmen raise their order and evaluating principles to mirror their progressively positive picture of understudies, who, thusly, act better. (School Discipline, 1). While look into on the adequacy of regalia is as yet progressing, they have been demonstrated to raise test scores, help confidence, lessen savagery and wrongdoing, and make a feeling of freshly discovered pride in understudies. They help kids to concentrate on learning and homework, not on what every other person is wearing or whether they fit in. Garbs are not the answer for the entirety of the issues that adolescents, instructors, and schools face today, yet research and measurements recommend that they might be a positive development.

Finding the Perfect Housing Option for You

Finding the Perfect Housing Option for You Hello, Illini! Now that you have accepted your offer of admission to Illinois (yay!!!), I am sure you are making your way through your Admitted Student Checklistâ€"housing included. With this blog, my hope is to answer any questions you may have about our many housing options on campus. All freshmen are required to live in residence halls. With so many options (37, to be exact), I am sure you will find the perfect place to call home. Illini can choose from any residence hall categorized as eitherUniversity Housingor Private Certified Housing. University Housing is owned by the University of Illinois, while Private Certified Housing is privately owned and operated but certified by the University of Illinois. One option is not necessarily better than the other; it is more about your personal preferences. University Housing There are 24 housing options, including 11 Living Learning Communities, within University Housing. With so many options, you may feel a little overwhelmed … … but do not worry! University Housing has a great comparison toolthat explains key features of each hall in order to help you narrow down your search based on your amenity preferences. As mentioned above, you have the option of selecting a Living-Learning Community. These communities are located in various residence halls throughout campus and provide students with in-hall course offerings and specialized programs around a common theme. Before making a decision, I also encourage you to make a trip to campus to view the options for yourself. University Housing offers tours Mondays through Fridays (except on holidays or university break periods) from 2 to 4 p.m. If you are unable to come to campus, you can tour these options virtually. After looking at all of your options, you may feel like University Housing is the right fit for you. If this is the case, you will be able to apply for University Housing starting 24 hours after accepting your offer of admission to Illinois. The priority deadline to register for University Housing is May 15. If you submit your housing contract by this date, youll be put in a lottery that will randomly assign you a time ticket to register for housing. Youll then be able to choose from available rooms across campus. At this time, youll also be able to set up your meal plan and state your roommate preferences. You can either room with someone you already know or choose to be randomly matched with a roommate (who could very well become your new best friend!). To learn more about the University Housing contract process, I encourage you to browse Housings website.They have many helpful resources, including a frequently asked questions page andvideos that go into more detail. Private Certified Housing One of our Private Certified Housing options may also be a great fit for you. Private Certified Housing options accommodate anywhere from 4 to 710 students, and they each offer something unique, from pools to in-room kitchens to weekly housekeeping. Just like University Housing, Private Certified Housing has a comparison tool on its website to help break down the amenities and opportunities offered at each facility so you can determine the best fit for you.Before making a decision, I encourage you to tour the Private Certified Housing options you are interested in. Tour times vary depending on location. However, the application process is very different from University Housing. With University Housing, theres just one application for all residence hall options. With Private Certified Housing, each facility has its own application and process. The sooner you can apply to Private Certified Housing the better, because it is on a first-come, first-served basis, and some options have limited space availability. I hope you found this information helpful. With so many options available to Illini, I have no doubt that you will find the perfect place to call home! Kaitlyn Admissions Counselor I have lived in central Illinois my entire life. When I was a little girl, it was my dream to attend the University of Illinois. After first attending community college, I graduated from Illinois with both my bachelor’s and master’s degrees in Communication.

Confrontations in Social Work Essay - 1363 Words

People tend to think of confrontation as being an argument or verbal conflict. In essence, confrontations are perceived as negative actions, but confrontations are not meant to be negative. In the social service setting, confrontations are meant to ring something out in ht open in order to gain a better understanding. By gaining understanding the social worker can work with the client in moving forward and making meaningful changes (Summers, 2009). Confrontations are placed into three categories: 1.) confrontations of a discrepancy between the client’s expression of what he/she wishes to be and his/her perceptions of self (ideal versus real self); 2.) confrontation of a discrepancy between the client’s expression verbal†¦show more content†¦A confrontation is simply meant to establish other possible viewpoints. The point is to promote growth and facilitate the client to make constructive changes (Summers, 2009). There are other instances in which a professional may choose to confront a client. Another reason for using confrontation is for the social worker to bring certain behaviors or communications into the open. These are behaviors and communications that interfere with a client’s goal. The client could have unrealistic expectations for the social service worker in which the client wants access to their worker at all times. This would include the client’s inability to be flexible and willing to talk with a different social worker. The client could also have unrealistic expectations for himself or herself. In other cases, the client could be asking for assistance, but show no individual t hat he or she is genuinely interested in the hip. The client might show lack of interest by failing to keep set appointments, frequently rescheduling appointments or failing to follow-up with the social worker. The client’s behavior could be contradictory in which the individual’s actions differ from what the client has told the worker (Summers, 2009). The social workers purpose is to work with a client in achieving set goals. This is the reason social workers tailor service plans to a client’s needs. The behaviors just discussed areShow MoreRelatedColonization Of The Colonial System1473 Words   |  6 Pagesanalyzed the ninetieth and the twentieth century colonialism from a variety of African and European views. He examined the influence of the slave trade, the mood of the Africans at the eve of the colonial system, evaluated the colonial system and how it works and finally evaluated the impact of colonization upon the African continent. 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One of the outcomes of increasing the accountability in the police officers is the resulting increase in restoring public trust towards the police agencies that have been hampered from recent stories in the media (Shingler, 2014). Reduction of physical confrontation and complaints. AnotherRead MoreShould Abortion Be Legal?1386 Words   |  6 Pagesshould legal, while telling the other person there doing the wrong thing with their lives. The personal choice is being taken away from people and is largely an argument based on factors such as a person’s social wellbeing and religious background (BOLCE, L). Along with this â€Å"Factors other than social class and background and religiosity have been identified to be important in the structuring of opinion towards abortion, including political ideology, sex role orientation, and personal morality.† (BOLCE

The Theory Of Culture Learning - 1482 Words

Likewise, by increasing or researching about the host culture and being capable enough to communicate with the both the community and beyond. Gaining cultural knowledge, according to Camphina-Bacote (2002, p. 182) is â€Å"the process of seeking and obtaining a sound educational foundation about diverse cultural and ethnic groups†. In order to have an intercultural communication, it is essential for the sojourner to have knowledge of both their own national and host-national communication patterns, norms and values and other common factors. This also means understanding how people send and receive information, imply their emotion, and effect each other through verbal and non-verbal communication (Ward, Bochner, Furnham, 2001). The theory of cultural learning implicates a great amount of cultural knowledge and social skills of the receiving society which are acquired in the new sociocultural context. Thus, leading to guidelines which outline preparation, orientation and behav ioural social skills training (Zhou, Jindal-Snape, Topping, Todman 2008). The theory of culture learning concentrates heavily on the behavioural aspect of intercultural contact, the â€Å"stress and coping† highlights the emotional feature which focuses on the sojourners’ mental welfare and fulfilment in the development of intercultural shift. This initially originated from Holmes and Rahe’s (1967) life events perception and Lazarus and Folkman’s (1984) stress, appraisal and coping theory, the understandingShow MoreRelatedThe Learning Theory Influences Everyone s Culture, Ethnicity, Gender, And Social Status1605 Words   |  7 Pages The Learning Theory influences everyone’s culture, ethnicity, gender, and social status, by being from different geographical location and religious background everyone has a unique characteristic, when it comes to learning or problem solving. 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The first theory that a Stafford discus is the theory that humans naturally avoid incest, this is what the creditable anthropologist Arthur Wolf believes. On the o ther hand, an anthropologist named Westermarckian believes that the reason why humansRead Morebusiness Assignment1024 Words   |  5 Pagesorganisational structure and culture Outcome 2: Understand different approaches to management and leadership Outcome 3: Understand ways of using motivational theories in organisations Outcome 4: Understand mechanisms for developing effective teamwork in organisations SCENARIO According to Bergstram and Hamilton, organisations have different structures and these structures have a bearing on attitudes and behaviour. Each organization has a different culture and structure which makes

Succubus Blues CHAPTER 12 Free Essays

â€Å"Man, if Jerome had threatened to stash me somewhere, I wouldn’t be out snooping around.† â€Å"I’m not snooping. I’m just speculating. We will write a custom essay sample on Succubus Blues CHAPTER 12 or any similar topic only for you Order Now † Peter shook his head and took the cap off a beer. I sat with him and Cody in their kitchen, the day after Hugh’s attack. A ham and pineapple pizza had just arrived, and Cody and I dug into it while the other vampire merely watched. â€Å"Why can’t you just accept this for what it is? Jerome’s telling the truth. It’s a vampire hunter.† â€Å"No. No way. None of this adds up. Not the goofy way Jerome and Carter are acting. Not Hugh’s attack. Not that fucked-up note I got.† â€Å"I figured you get screwy love notes all the time. ‘My heart bleeds for you, Georgina.’ Written in actual blood. Stuff like that.† â€Å"Yeah, nothing like self-mutilation to turn a girl on,† I muttered. I gulped some Mountain Dew and returned to my pizza. Really, as far as caffeine and sugar went, Mountain Dew was nearly as good as one of my mochas. â€Å"Hey, why aren’t you eating any of this?† Peter held up his beer bottle by way of explanation. â€Å"I’m dieting.† I peered at it. Golden Village Low- Carb Ale. I froze, mid-bite. Low- carb? â€Å"Peter†¦ you’re a vampire. Aren’t you by definition always on a low- carbdiet?† â€Å"It’s no use,† Cody chuckled, speaking up for the first time. â€Å"I’ve already had this argument with him. He won’t listen.† â€Å"You wouldn’t understand.† Peter eyed our pizza wistfully. â€Å"You can make your body look like anything you want.† â€Å"Yeah, but†¦Ã¢â‚¬  I looked to Cody. â€Å"Can he really even put on weight? Aren’t immortal bodies, I don’t know, unchangeable? Or timeless? Or something?† â€Å"You’d know more about it than me,† he said. â€Å"We eat other things.† Peter rubbed his stomach selfconsciously. â€Å"Not just blood. It all adds up.† This had to be weirdest thing I’d heard since Duane’s death. â€Å"Stop it, Peter. You’re being ridiculous. Next thing, you’ll be down at Hugh’s asking for liposuction.† He brightened. â€Å"Do you think that would help?† â€Å"No! You look fine. You look the same as you always have.† â€Å"I don’t know. Cody’s been getting all the attention whenever we go out. Maybe I should get more blond put into the spikes.† I refrained from pointing out that Peter had been almost forty when he’d become a vampire, his hair heavily receding. Cody had been very young – barely twenty – and bore tawny, leonine good looks. Immortals who were formerly human stayed fixed at the age and appearance immortality had taken over. If the two vampires still frequented clubs and college bars, I didn’t doubt Cody had more luck. â€Å"We’re wasting time,† I exclaimed, wanting to derail Peter from this whole image thing. â€Å"I want to figure out who attacked Hugh.† â€Å"Christ, you have a one-track mind,† he snapped. â€Å"Why can’t you just wait to find out?† Good question. I didn’t know why. Something inside me was tugging to get to the truth of this, to do what I could to protect my friends and myself. I just couldn’t stand passively by. â€Å"It couldn’t have been a mortal. Not from the way Hugh described the attack.† â€Å"Yeah, but no immortal could have killed Duane. I already told you that.† â€Å"No lesser immortal,† I pointed out. â€Å"But a higher immortal†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Peter laughed. â€Å"Oh-ho, you are pushing the envelope now. You think there’s some vindictive demon out there?† â€Å"They’d certainly be capable.† â€Å"Yeah, but they have no motivation.† â€Å"Not nece – â€Å" A funny sensation suddenly spread over me, tingly and gentle and silvery. I was put in mind of the fragrance of lilacs, the tinkling of small bells. I looked sharply at the others. â€Å"What the – † began Cody, but Peter was already moving toward the door. The signature we all felt was similar to Carter’s in certain ways but lighter and sweeter. Less powerful. A guardian angel. Peter opened the door, and Lucinda stood there primly, her arms clasped tightly around a book. I nearly choked. It would figure. As a general rule, I didn’t interact with many angels in the area, Carter being the exception because of his relationship with Jerome. Still, I knew who the locals were, and I knew Lucinda. She wasn’t a true angel like Carter. Guardians were more like the heavenly equivalent of Hugh: former mortals who served and ran errands for all eternity. I had no doubt Lucinda performed all sorts of good deeds on a daily basis. She probably worked in soup kitchens and read to orphans in her free time. Whenever she was around us, however, she became a prissy little bitch. Peter shared my sentiment. â€Å"Yes?† he asked coolly. â€Å"Hello, Peter. Your hair is very†¦ interesting today,† she observed diplomatically, not moving from the doorway. â€Å"May I come in?† Peter scowled at the hair comment but had too many good hosting instincts drilled into him to not wave her inside. He might tease me about mortal hobbies, but the vampire had a meticulous sense of propriety and etiquette bordering on obsessive-compulsive disorder. She swept inside, proper in an ankle-length plaid skirt and high-necked sweater. Her short blond hair curled under in a perfect bob. I was a different story. Between my plunging neckline, ultratight jeans, and fuck-me heels, I felt like I might as well lie down on the floor and spread my legs. The demure look she gave me clearly implied she was thinking the same thing. â€Å"Charming to see you all again.† Her tone was crisp, formal. â€Å"I’m here to deliver something from Mr. Carter.† â€Å"Mr. Carter?† asked Cody. â€Å"Is that his last name? I always thought it was his first.† â€Å"I think he just has one name,† I speculated. â€Å"Like Cher or Madonna.† Lucinda said nothing to our bandying. Instead, she handed me a book. Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus: The Classic Guide to Understanding the Opposite Sex. â€Å"What the hell is that?† exclaimed Peter. â€Å"I think I saw it on some talk show.† I suddenly remembered walking out with Carter in the hospital and how he’d claimed to own a book that would help me with Seth. I tossed it on the counter disinterestedly. â€Å"Carter’s fucked-up sense of humor in action.† Lucinda flushed deep crimson. â€Å"How can you use such language so carelessly? You sound like you’re†¦ like you’re in a locker room!† I smoothed down my tank top. â€Å"No way. I’d never wear this in a locker room.† â€Å"Yeah, it isn’t even in school colors,† said Peter. I couldn’t resist toying with the guardian. â€Å"If I were in a locker room, I’d probably have on a short cheerleader skirt. And no underwear.† Peter continued playing off me. â€Å"And you’d do that one cheer, right? The one with your hands splayed against the shower wall and ass sticking out?† â€Å"That’s me,† I agreed. â€Å"Always ready to take one for the team.† Even Cody flushed at our crassness. Lucinda was practically purple. â€Å"You – you two have no sense of decency! None at all.† â€Å"Oh whatever,† I told her. â€Å"Back at the country club, or wherever you and the rest of the choir hang out, you probably wear a shorter version of that skirt all the time. With knee socks. I bet the other angels really go for the schoolgirl look.† If Lucinda were any one of my friends, a comment like that would have only escalated into more sarcasm and snide remarks. The guardian, however, merely stiffened and chose to rely on deadpan self-righteousness. â€Å"We,† she declared, â€Å"do not carry on in such an unseemly manner with each other. We act with decorum. We treat each other with respect. We do not turn on each other.† This last one came with a brief eye-glance toward me. â€Å"What was that for?† She tossed her hair, what little of it there was. â€Å"Oh, I think you know. We’ve all been hearing about your little vigilante act. First that vampire, then the imp. Nothing about you people surprises me anymore.† Now my face flushed. â€Å"That’s bullshit! I was cleared of Duane a long time ago. And Hugh†¦ that’s just stupid. He’s my friend.† â€Å"What does friendship mean among your kind? He’s just as bad. From what I heard, he received a great deal of amusement telling anyone who would listen about your little whip and wings getup. Oh, and by the way, if you don’t mind my observation, I think that has to be the most degrading thing I’ve ever heard. Even for a succubus.† She arched a glance toward the book I had tossed to the counter. â€Å"I’ll tell Mr. Carter you, uh, received the book.† With that, she turned neatly and left, closing the door behind her. â€Å"Sanctimonious bitch,† I muttered. â€Å"And how many people know about that demon girl thing anyway?† â€Å"Forget her,† said Peter. â€Å"She’s a nobody. And an angel. There’s no telling what they’ll do.† I scowled. And then, it hit me. I couldn’t believe I’d never thought of it before. Maybe Lucinda needed more credit. â€Å"That’s it!† â€Å"What’s it?† mumbled Cody through a mouthful of nearly cold pizza. â€Å"An angel killed Duane and attacked Hugh! It’s perfect. You were right in saying a demon would have no reason to take our side out. But an angel? Why not? I mean a real one, not a guardian like Lucinda.† Peter shook his head. â€Å"An angel could do something like that, but it’d be too petty. The great cosmic good-versus-evil battle is bigger than one-on-one matches. You know that. Taking out one agent of evil at a time would be a waste of resources.† Cody considered. â€Å"What if it was a renegade angel? Someone not following the rules of the game.† Peter and I both turned to the younger vampire in surprise. He’d been more or less avoiding our speculation this evening. â€Å"There’s no such thing,† his mentor countered back. â€Å"Is there, Georgina?† I felt both vampires’ eyes turn to me, waiting for my opinion. â€Å"Jerome says there are no bad angels. Once they’re bad, they become demons, not angels anymore.† â€Å"Well, that kills your theory then. An angel doing something bad would fall and not be an angel anymore. Then Jerome would know about him.† I frowned, still intrigued by Cody’s use of the word â€Å"renegade† over â€Å"fallen.† â€Å"Maybe angel sin is like human sin†¦ it’s not always ‘bad’ if the person thinks they’re doing ‘good.’ This one hasn’t gone over yet.† We all pondered this a moment. Humans continually labor under the delusion that there really is a precise set of rules on what sin is and is not, rules that one might break without even realizing it. In reality, most people know when they do wrong. They feel it. Sin is more of a subjective matter than an objective one. Back in the days of the Puritans, corrupting souls had been no problem for a succubus since almost anything sexual and pleasurable felt wrong to those men. Nowadays, most people don’t regard premarital sex as wrong, hence no sin is committed. Succubi have been forced to become more creative over the years if they want to get an energy fix and corrupt a soul. Still, by that logic, it was possible that a renegade angel who believed he or she was doing good might not cross into the realm of sin. If there was no sin, then there could be no fall. Or could there be? The whole concept strained the mind, and Peter apparently thought so too. â€Å"So what’s the difference? What makes an angel fall? We’re staking a lot here on a technicality.† I could have concurred until I recalled something else. â€Å"The note.† â€Å"Note?† asked Cody. â€Å"The note that was on my door. It said I was beautiful enough to tempt angels into falling.† â€Å"Well, you do look pretty good.† When I raised an eyebrow, Peter said grudgingly, â€Å"Okay, that is kind of suspicious†¦ but it’s almost too suspicious. Why would someone overtly leave a calling card?† Cody nearly jumped out of his seat. â€Å"It’s some kind of psycho angel who likes playing mind games. Like in those movies where killers carve clues into their victims, so they can watch the police puzzle things out.† I shuddered at that image as I thought over what I knew about angels in general, which really was nothing. Unlike our side, the powers of good did not have the same cryptic hierarchy of supervisors and geographical networks, no matter the stories about cherubim and seraphim. After all, we were the ones who had invented middle management, not them. I always had the impression that most angels and denizens of good operated like private investigators or field agents, completing assorted angelic missions in a very loosely organized way. Such an open venue would provide ample chance for someone to surreptitiously tackle a side agenda. Angelic involvement would also explain the subterfuge, I reflected. Their side was embarrassed. Typical, really. Little embarrassed our side anymore. They, however, would be shamefaced to admit one of theirs had turned rogue, and Carter, being so chummy with Jerome, had conned the demon into keeping quiet about the whole matter. All of his sarcasm and attempts to mock me were only more weak efforts at saving face. The more I considered this far-fetched theory, the more I liked it. Some disgruntled angel, wanting to be heroic, decided to turn vigilante and take on the forces of evil. The renegade angel theory would explain how any of us could be legitimate targets, as well as shed light on why no one could sense this being since we now knew higher immortals could hide their presence. Which made me wonder why exactly Jerome and Carter were also masking their presence. Were they hoping to catch this angel unaware? That, and†¦ â€Å"Why’d this person let Hugh live then?† I looked from vampire to vampire. â€Å"An angel could take out any of us. Hugh said he wasn’t winning, and no one interrupted. The attacker just got bored and took off. Why? Why kill Duane but not Hugh? Or me, for that matter, since this person knows what I am.† â€Å"Because Duane was an asshole?† suggested Peter. â€Å"Personality aside, we all weigh in just as heavily on the evil side. Hugh maybe even more so.† Indeed, Hugh was in his prime as far as immortals went. He no longer held a novice’s inexperience like Cody, nor had the imp grown world-weary and bored like Peter and I had. Hugh knew enough now to be good at his job, and he actually liked what he did. He should have been a prime target for any angelic vigilante wanting to make the world a better place. Cody agreed with Peter. â€Å"Yeah. Evil or not, some of us are more likable than others. Maybe an angel could respect that.† â€Å"I doubt an angel would find any of us likable – â€Å" I cut myself off. One angel did like us. One angel hung out with us a lot. One angel who seemed to be everywhere Jerome was lately when these attacks happened. One angel who knew us personally, who knew all of our habits and weaknesses. What better way was there to track and study us than to infiltrate our drinking group and pretend to be a friend? The idea was so explosive, so dangerous, I felt ill at ease just giving shape to the thought. I certainly couldn’t utter any of it aloud. Not yet. Cody and Peter hardly believed the angel theory at all. I doubted they’d jump on board if I started accusing Carter. â€Å"You okay, Georgina?† Cody queried when I lapsed into silence. â€Å"Yeah†¦ yeah†¦ fine.† I caught a glimpse at the time on the stove and jumped up from my chair, head still reeling. â€Å"Shit. I’ve got to get back to Queen Anne.† â€Å"What for?† asked Peter. â€Å"I have a date.† â€Å"With who?† Cody grinned slyly at me, and I blushed in response. â€Å"Roman.† Peter turned to his apprentice. â€Å"Which one is that?† â€Å"The hot dancing guy. Georgina was all over him.† â€Å"I was not. I like him too much for that.† They laughed. As I picked up my coat, Peter asked: â€Å"Hey, I don’t suppose you could do me a favor sometime?† â€Å"What?† My mind still clung to the mystery winding around us. That, and Roman. He and I had talked on the phone a few times now since the last date, and I was growing more and more amazed at just how well we clicked. â€Å"Well, you know how they’ve got those computer programs in salons that will show you what you’ll look like with different colors and cuts? I was thinking you could be like a living one. You could morph into me and show me what I’d look like with different hairstyles.† Silence hung in the room for a full minute as Cody and I stared at him. â€Å"Peter,† I told him at last, â€Å"that’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.† â€Å"I don’t know.† Cody scratched his chin. â€Å"For him, it’s not bad.† â€Å"We have too many other issues to deal with right now,† I warned, having no patience to humor Peter with niceties. â€Å"I’m not wasting my energy on your vanity.† â€Å"Come on,† pleaded Peter. â€Å"You’re still brimming from that good virgin guy. You can spare it.† I shook my head, slinging my purse over one shoulder. â€Å"Succubus 101. The farther a transformation takes me from my natural form, the more energy it expends. Cross-gender changes are a pain in the ass; cross-species ones are even worse. Playing salon with you would burn through most of my stash, and I’ve got better things to waste it on.† I eyed him dangerously. â€Å"You need some serious counseling for body image and insecurity, my friend.† Cody regarded me with new interest. â€Å"Cross-species? Could you, like, turn into a Gila monster or†¦ or†¦ a sand dollar or something?† â€Å"Good night, boys. I’m out of here.† As I departed, I could just barely hear Peter and Cody debating if it would take more energy for me to change into a really small mammal or a human-sized reptile. Vampires. Honestly, they’re like children sometimes. I drove home in record time. I remembered to shape-shift my heels into sandals and walked up to my building’s door just as Roman did. Seeing him banished any lingering thoughts of angels and conspiracies. He had told me to dress casually for this evening, and while he had done the same, he still managed to make jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt look like runway fashion. I apparently had the same effect on him because he caught me up in a giant bear hug and kissed my cheek. â€Å"Hey, gorgeous,† he murmured into my ear, holding on to the embrace a bit longer than necessary. â€Å"Hey, yourself.† I disentangled my body from his and smiled up at him. â€Å"You’re so short,† he noted, cupping my cheek in his hand. â€Å"It’s cute.† Those eyes threatened to engulf me, and I hastily turned away before I did something stupid. â€Å"Let’s go.† I paused. â€Å"Um, where are we going?† He led me to his car, parked just down the street. â€Å"Since you seem to be so good with your feet, I thought I’d take us somewhere to test the rest of your bodily coordination.† â€Å"Like a hotel room?† â€Å"Damn. Am I that obvious?† Several minutes later, he pulled into a dilapidated establishment with a blinking neon sign reading BURT’s BOWLING ALLEY. I stared in open distaste, unable to hide my feelings. â€Å"This is your choice of date? A bowling alley? Not even a nice one at that.† Roman seemed unconcerned about my lack of enthusiasm. â€Å"When was the last time you actually went bowling?† I suspected it had been back in the 1970s. â€Å"Not in a very long time.† â€Å"Exactly. You see,† he began conversationally as we went inside and approached the counter, â€Å"I’ve got you figured out. You claim you don’t want to get serious with anyone, but I still get the impression you go out a lot. Size ten, please.† â€Å"Six and a half.† The cashier gave us each a pair of unsavory-looking shoes, and I felt grateful germs posed no threat to me. Roman handed over some cash, and she gestured us down to our designated lane. â€Å"Anyway, like I was saying, regardless of your intentions, you must still end up dating quite a bit. I don’t know how you couldn’t with the attention you attract.† â€Å"What’s that supposed to mean?† I sat down by our lane and took off my Birkenstocks, still eyeing the rental shoes askance. Roman paused in his own shoe-tying and gave me a long, steady look. â€Å"Oh come on, you can’t be that oblivious. Men check you out all the time. I always see it when I’m with you. Walking through the bookstore, going to that bar the other night. Even here, in this place. In just walking over from the counter, I saw at least three guys stop and watch you.† â€Å"Is there a point here somewhere?† â€Å"Eventually.† He stood up, and we walked over to a rack of communal bowling balls. â€Å"With all that attention, guys must ask you out all the time, and you must give in sometimes, just like you did with me. Right?† â€Å"I guess.† He paused in his ball selection and gave me another one of those breathtaking, soul-searching looks. â€Å"So tell me about your last date.† â€Å"My last date?† I somehow didn’t think Martin Miller counted. â€Å"Your last date. I mean a real date, not like a casual grabbing a drink thing. A date where the guy gave his best shot at planning an itinerary he thought would get you into bed.† I tested the weight of a fluorescent orange and green swirled ball, racking my brain. â€Å"The opera,† I said at last. â€Å"And dinner at Santa Lucia’s.† â€Å"Nice spread. And the one before that?† â€Å"Jesus, you’re nosy. Um†¦ let’s see, I think it was the opening of an art exhibit.† â€Å"Undoubtedly paired with dinner at some restaurant where stiff waiters say ‘thank you’ after you make a selection, right?† â€Å"I guess.† â€Å"Just as I thought.† He hoisted a navy blue ball into the crook of his arm. â€Å"This is why you’re resistant to dating, why you don’t want to get serious with anyone. You’re such a hot commodity that plush, five-star dates are par for the course. They’re ordinary. Men try to throw out all the stops for you, but after a while, you get bored with them.† His eyes danced mischievously. â€Å"Therefore, I will differentiate myself from those losers by taking you to places your little elitist feet would never dream of touching. The salt of the earth. Back to basics. The way dating was meant to be: two people, more concerned with each other than their posh venue.† I walked with him back to our lane. â€Å"You just took an awfully long time to say you think I want to go slumming.† â€Å"Don’t you?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"Then why are you with me?† I eyed that gorgeous appearance and thought about the conversation we’d had the other night on classical languages. Looks and intellect. Hard to beat. â€Å"You’re hardly slumming it.† He smiled at me and changed the subject. â€Å"That’s your choice?† I looked down at the ball’s psychedelic color pattern. â€Å"Yeah. This night is already turning surreal enough. Figured I might as well get the full experience. Maybe we’ll drop some acid later.† Roman’s eyes crinkled with amusement, and he cocked his head toward the lane. â€Å"Let’s see what you can do with it.† I stepped up uncertainly, trying to remember how I used to do this. All up and down the alley, I could see other players walking up and throwing with ease. Shrugging, I stood at the line, drew my arm back, and threw. The ball flew out jerkily, sailed about four feet, hit the lane with a loud crack, and then promptly entered the gutter. Roman walked up beside me, and we silently watched the ball complete its journey. â€Å"Are you always that rough with balls?† he asked finally. â€Å"Most men don’t complain.† â€Å"I imagine not. Try making contact with the floor before you let it go this time.† I gave him a sharp look. â€Å"You aren’t one of those guys that gets off from showing women how much better you are at stuff, are you?† â€Å"Nope. Just offering friendly advice.† My ball returned, and I followed his instructions. The ball’s impact proved quieter that way, but I still ended up in the gutter. â€Å"All right. Show me what you can do,† I grumbled, sitting down huffily into a chair. Roman strode up to the lane, movements graceful and flowing like a cat’s. The ball poured from his hand like water from a pitcher, sailing smoothly down and hitting nine pins. When his ball returned, he threw it effortlessly once more and took out the obstinate tenth. â€Å"This is going to be a long night.† â€Å"Cheer up.† He chucked my chin. â€Å"We’ll get you through this. Try it again, and aim more toward the left. I’m going to get us some beers.† I threw to the left as advised but only succeeded in hitting the left gutter. On my second throw, I tried greater moderation and managed to hit one pin on the far left. I whooped in spite of myself. â€Å"Nicely done,† cheered Roman, setting two mugs of cheap beer down on the table. I hadn’t drunk anything not from a microbrewery in over a decade. â€Å"It’s all about baby steps.† That certainly turned out to be true as our evening progressed. My pin count increased slowly, though I soon developed the nasty habit of creating splits on my first throw. I showed no aptitude for picking them up, despite Roman’s best explanations. To his credit, he gave good, nonthreatening advice, as well as some hands-on instruction. â€Å"Your arm goes like this, and the rest of you leans like this,† he explained, standing behind me with one hand on my hip and the other on my wrist. My flesh warmed at his touch, and I wondered if his actions were truly driven by altruism or were an excuse to get his hands on me. I exercised such techniques regularly in succubus work. It drove men wild, and now I knew why. Ruse or no, I didn’t tell him to stop. I hit my peak in the second game, even managing one strike, though my performance declined in the third round as beer and fatigue took over. Sensing this, Roman called our bowling adventures closed, lauding my progress as highly impressive. â€Å"Do we have to go to a dive now for dinner, in order to keep with this dream-date slumming fantasy you’ve got going?† He put his arm around me as we walked out to the car. â€Å"I guess that depends if you’ve succumbed to my wily charm or not.† â€Å"If I say yes, will you take me somewhere good? Sometimes the posh places do work, you know.† We ended up at an upscale Japanese restaurant, much to my satisfaction. Taking our time, we savored both food and conversation, and again Roman’s knowledge and wit impressed me. This time we discussed current issues, sharing opinions on recent news and culture, things we liked, things that drove us crazy, etc., etc. I discovered Roman had traveled quite a bit and held strong views on world politics and affairs. â€Å"This country is so in love with itself,† he complained, sipping sake. â€Å"It’s like one big mirror. It just sits all day and looks at itself. When it can be bothered to look away, it’s only to tell others ‘do this’ or ‘be just like me.’ Our military and economic policies bully people outside our borders, and inside, conservative groups bully other citizens. I hate it.† I listened with interest, intrigued at this side of a normally light and easygoing guy. â€Å"So do something about it. Or leave.† He shook his head. â€Å"Spoken like a comfortable citizen. The old ‘if you don’t like it, you can just leave’ policy. Unfortunately, it’s a lot harder than that to cut yourself off from your roots.† Leaning back, he forced levity with a small grin. â€Å"And I do do things here and there. Small acts. My own battle against the status quo, you know? Attend the occasional protest. Refuse to buy products made with third world labor.† â€Å"Avoid fur? Eat organic food?† â€Å"That too,† he chuckled. â€Å"Funny,† I said after a moment’s silence. Something had just struck me. â€Å"What?† â€Å"This whole time, we’ve talked about current things. No sharing of traumatic childhoods, college days, exes, or whatever.† â€Å"So what’s funny about that?† â€Å"Nothing really. It’s just that the human mating process usually seems to dictate everyone share their histories.† â€Å"You want to do that?† â€Å"Not really.† I actually hated that part of dating. I always had to edit my past. I hated the lying, having to keep track of my stories. â€Å"I think the past plagues us enough without muddling it into our present. I’d rather look forward, not backward.† I studied him curiously. â€Å"Does your past plague you?† â€Å"Very much so. I fight every day to not let the past overtake me. Sometimes I win, sometimes it does.† God only knew mine did the same. It was odd to talk to someone about this, someone who felt the same way. I wondered how many people in the world walked around with invisible baggage, hiding it from others. Even while packing said baggage, I’d always kept it concealed. I had a driving need to keep up surface appearances – hence the so-called â€Å"happy face.† I’d smiled and nodded through the worst times of my life, and when that superficial reaction had not been enough, I’d finally just run – even though it cost me my soul. I smiled slightly. â€Å"Well then. I’m glad you and I stick to the present.† He tweaked my noise. â€Å"Me too. In fact, my present is looking pretty damned good right now. Maybe my future too, if I keep weakening your resolve.† â€Å"Don’t push it.† â€Å"Aw, come on. Admit it. You find my outrage at the powers-that-be endearing. Maybe even erotic.† â€Å"I think ‘entertaining’ would be a better word. If you want outrage, you should spend time with Doug, my coworker. You guys have a lot in common. By day he cleans up and plays respectable assistant manager, by night he’s the lead singer of this wacky band, registering his discontent against society through music.† Roman’s eyes flickered with interest. â€Å"Does he play around here?† â€Å"Yup. He’ll be at the Old Greenlake Brewery this Saturday. Me and some of the other staff are going.† â€Å"Oh yeah? What time should I meet you?† â€Å"I don’t recall inviting you.† â€Å"Don’t you? Because I could have sworn you just named a day and place. Sounded like a passive invitation to me. You know, the kind where it’d be my job to say ‘mind if I come along,’ and then you say ‘yeah, no problem,’ and so it goes. I just skipped a few steps.† â€Å"Most efficient of you,† I observed. â€Å"So†¦ mind if I come along?† I groaned. â€Å"Roman, we can’t keep going out. It was cute at first, but it was only supposed to be one date. We’ve already gone past that. People at work think you’re my boyfriend.† Casey and Beth had informed me recently what a † hottie† I had. â€Å"Do they?† He looked very happy about this. â€Å"I’m not joking here. I mean it when I say I don’t want to get serious with anyone right now.† And yet, I didn’t really mean it. Not in my heart. I’d spent centuries cutting myself off from any sort of meaningful attachment with another person, and it hurt. Even when I had purposely cultivated relationships with nice guys in my succubus glory days, I had immediately dropped them and disappeared post-sex. In some ways, my life now was even harder. I avoided the guilt of stealing a nice man’s life energy, but I never had true companionship either. No one who cared exclusively for me. Sure, I had friends, but they had their own lives, and those who got too close – like Doug – had to be pushed away again for their own good. â€Å"Don’t you believe in casual dating? Or even male-female friendships?† â€Å"No,† I answered decisively. â€Å"I do not.† â€Å"What about the other males in your life? That Doug guy? The dance instructor? Even that writer? You’re friends with them, aren’t you?† â€Å"Well, yeah, but that’s different. I’m not attracted – â€Å" I bit off my words, but it was too late. Roman’s face bloomed with hope and pleasure. He leaned toward me, touching my cheek with his hand. I swallowed, terrified and thrilled by how close he was. Beer and sake had made me fuzzy in body and mind, and I made a mental promise not to drink the next time we went out. Not that we were going out again†¦ right? Alcohol confused my senses, made it harder to differentiate between the succubus feeding instinct and pure, primal lust. Either one was dangerous around him. And yet†¦ in that moment, lust wasn’t even really the issue. He was. Being with him. Talking to him. Having someone in my life again. Someone who cared about me. Someone who understood me. Someone I could go home to. And with. â€Å"What time should I meet you?† he murmured. I looked down, suddenly feeling warm. â€Å"It’s a late show†¦Ã¢â‚¬  His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, intertwining with my hair and tipping my face toward his. â€Å"You want to hang out beforehand?† â€Å"We shouldn’t.† My words all seemed long and drawn-out, like I was swimming in molasses. Roman leaned over and kissed my ear. â€Å"I’ll be at your place at seven.† â€Å"Seven,† I repeated. His lips moved to kiss the part of my cheek closest to my ear, then the cheek’s center, then just below my mouth. His lips hovered so close to mine; my whole body concentrated on that proximity. I could feel the heat from his mouth, like it had its own private aura. Everything moved in slow motion. I wanted him to kiss me, wanted him to consume me with his lips and his tongue. I wanted it and feared it, yet felt powerless to act either way. â€Å"Can I get you something else?† The waiter’s mildly embarrassed voice shattered my numbing haze, snapping me back to reason, reminding me what would happen to Roman even with a kiss. Not too much, true, but enough. I broke out of his grasp and shook my head. â€Å"Nothing else. Just the check.† Roman and I spoke little after that. He drove me home and made no advances when he walked me to the door, only smiling kindly as he chucked me under the chin again and reminded me he’d be by at seven on Saturday. I went to bed restless and aching for sex. The alcohol helped me fall asleep easily, but when I awoke in the morning, lying in bed in a drowsy state, I could still remember how it had felt to have his lips so close to mine. The lustful yearning returned with a vengeance. â€Å"This is no good,† I complained to Aubrey, rolling out of bed. I had three hours before work and knew I needed to do something other than daydream about Roman. Remembering that I had never followed up with Erik, I decided I should pay him a visit. The vampire hunter theory was more or less obsolete as far as I was concerned, but he might have found something else of use. I could also ask him about fallen angels. Considering the whole â€Å"stashing† threat, I probably should have experienced more concern about going back to Arcana, Ltd. Still, I felt more or less safe. One thing I had learned about the archdemon was that he was not a morning person. He didn’t really need rest, of course, but it was a mortal luxury he’d taken to wholeheartedly. I expected him to still be asleep, wherever he was, with no way of knowing what I planned to do. Dressing and eating breakfast, I soon hit the road to Lake City. I found the shop effortlessly now, feeling dismay once more at its barren look and empty parking lot. Yet, when I entered, I saw a dark shape leaning over a corner of books, too tall to be Erik. Pleasure at the thought of Erik getting more business coursed through me until the figure straightened and fixed me with a sardonic, gray-eyed expression. â€Å"Hello, Georgina.† I swallowed. â€Å"Hello, Carter.† How to cite Succubus Blues CHAPTER 12, Essay examples

Literature Search Plan an Example of the Topic Literature Essays by

Literature Search Plan by Expert Prof Solphie | 13 Dec 2016 Introduction Need essay sample on "Literature Search Plan" topic? We will write a custom essay sample specifically for you Proceed This literature search plan explains the researchers plan of action in gathering information and reviewing existing literature on the subject of patient satisfaction through the Medicare program called Patient Satisfaction Survey (Health Resources and Services Administration). Current literature on the institutions that implemented the project and feedback from different stakeholders could shed light on the effectiveness of the project vis--vis the intent for its launch. Patient satisfaction on the kind of service received from health care institutions like hospitals could be determined through the survey tool formulated by Medicare (Centers for Medicare Fahy, 2008). Research on data from such institutions would, therefore, be very helpful in gaining insight into the kind of performance that a hospital is able to give to its patients. Order your legit essay. Purpose of the Literature Review The literature review could give answers to a lot of heretofore unanswered questions concerning various aspects of the healthcare industry, such as the speed with which a patient's call is attended to by a health care professional, the degree of attention given by a physician to a patient's concerns, and the cleanliness of health care facilities (Kowalczyk, 2005; Skehan & Petrillo, 2003). Our Customers Often Tell EssayLab writers: Who wants to write essay for me? Essay writers advise: Calculate The Price Buy Essays Cheap Get Paid To Write Papers For Students Top Essay Writing Write My Essay Online Reviews Since the Medicare Survey, particularly the questions and answers, would be posted on its website in an effort to push hospitals into improving health care and promote quality service delivery (Kowalczyk, 2005; Skehan & Petrillo, 2003), current literature could help paint a picture of the state of health services being given to patients across the United States today. Existing literature could also show how far the implementation of the project has come through, especially the institutions that have adopted and enforced the program. A particular question that needs to be addressed by the literature is the effect of the survey results on the perception and belief of patients on the hospitals they choose to serve their medical needs. Thus, it is important that the facts to be gathered include tables, graphs, and statistics that would show the general trend and effect of the survey results on the mindset of the patients. Databases from the university and government and Internet-based references could be the primary sources of information on this subject. The use of specific keywords would make the task easier. Thus, keywords such as patient satisfaction, Medicare, and performance measurement, would be used in the preliminary research. Thereafter, Boolean operators and limiting searches would be conducted to narrow down the search. Conclusion Since the program is a relatively new one, there might be difficulty in gathering data. Nevertheless, Internet-based research and database review could provide relevant data on the specific questions on the subject. A month of research could yield a lot of information where concrete conclusions can be drawn. References Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services. (2007). HCAHPS: Patient's Perspectives of Care Survey. Retrieved July 13, 2008, from http://www.cms.hhs.gov/hospitalqualityinits/30_hospitalhcahps.asp Fahy, J. (2008). Medicare ad campaign targets consumer satisfaction. Pittsburgh Post- Gazette. Retrieved July 13, 2008, from http://www.post- gazette.com/pg/08142/883361-114.stm Health Resources and Services Administration. The Health Center Program: Health Center Patient Satisfaction Survey. Retrieved July 18, 2008, from http://bphc.hrsa.gov/patientsurvey/ Kowalczyk, L. (2005). Hospitals set to make patient survey results public. The Boston Globe. Retrieved July 13, 2008, from http://www.boston.com/business/healthcare/articles/2005/11/23/hospitals_set_to _mak e_patient_survey_results_public/ Skehan, K. & Petrillo, M. K. (2003). Home Health Patient Satisfaction: A National View of Public Reporting. Retrieved July 13, 2008, from http://www.health.state.ri.us/chic/performance/quality/quality18.pdf