But e-communications aren’t secure. Gargoyle mail is safer.
It seemed a run-of-the-mill pagan ritual. An abandoned church. Moonlight streaming through dusty stained glass. But it had a Silicon Valley twist. Candle apps for candles. Networked PCs marked the directions. Techno-nerds encircled a silver pentagram painted on the rough, wooden floor.
And they knew I was coming.
Unfortunately, I didn’t know. I was exposed, vulnerable, ignorant.
Pigeons fluttered in the rafters, and the lights went out. The engineers charged, lifting me off my feet, and moved toward the altar. There was a power surge – from me, I think.
The church came down in a horrible, tearing crash of breaking beams and shattering glass. Does it make my crime less awful that the church was deconsecrated?
I don’t think so either.
I also don’t know how I escaped, but so did a technomancer. And I can’t trust I’ve stopped their spell until I stop him.
They say cyberspace has a guiding spirit. God help us if it’s true.
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