Credit cards, telephones, security cameras all work against us. All consciousness may reside in the astral plane, but the mage’s cyber eye is certainly conscious of us. Now I’m running on cash and hackneyed disguises. A blond wig. Big glasses. Floppy hats.
You’d enjoy my new look.
If there’s a cyberspace spirit, it’s not my friend. I’m still avoiding planes.
Fortunately, metaphysical detectives have other means of travel, and I had a plan. I couldn’t beat the mage’s tech. But I could remove his power source.
I summoned a microburst spirit. It took the power plant offline. Brigitte suggested a hurricane, but… overkill.
And it worked. His magic blipped out with the electricity.
Then he ran.
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