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Chapter 5


I think the dancer looks a little like me.


We tracked his EMF disturbance to a Soviet-style apartment complex and a room with flaking, high school-green paint and wall-to-wall computers.

I stepped inside. Electric agony jolted me. Another trap.

I awoke wrapped in computer cables, plugged into the equipment, my brain feeling like it had gone through the spin cycle.

But he’d made a mistake.

There is a cyberspace spirit. And that spirit didn’t like the techno-mage’s plan for merging it with the astral plane.

The spirit and I connected.

Someday, I hope I can forget what I saw flickering in its high-def gaze.

A power surge, a shower of sparks and fire. The mage didn’t escape, and Brigitte didn’t save me. The cyber-spirit did.

But I wish I knew why.



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