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I remembered to sign up for WeWriWa this week! Thanks to everyone who took pity on me and my frazzled self last week and left a comment anyway—I really appreciate it!
This week, Clyota is using Charlie’s secure Net connection to access a data pocket left behind by her mother. She’s hoping it contains some answers about her mother’s alleged crime . . . maybe.
With my luck, I was about to lob a metavirus bomb into the Net.
My hands stilled as that notion took hold of my high-level of anxiety and cranked it up another four notches.
I’d told Rafe that I trusted Mom, and I did—but the Moonshot Killer was another matter. According to her press, that Monica Hermandine-Mykota wouldn’t balk at sacrificing her daughter to crash the world back to the Bad Old Times.
I took a breath. It was too late to back out now, to pack everything back in the lockbox and go back to my safe little world and my petty little Mommy Issues—besides, if the worse happened, Charlie could be counted on to give me a merciful bullet, and Reynard would have a hell of a story, about which I would no longer care.
And I needed to know.
I hit the Enter key.
Earful of Cider 