Read Online Cybermancy by Kelly McCullough - Free Book Online Page A

up. There was nothing at all I could do to affect Necessity, but at the same time the possibility that Shara was still somewhere meant there was a chance she’d end up here.
    “I don’t know. As far as I can tell, this”—Cerice tapped the screen for emphasis—“autoforwarded her to an address that should be a null set.”
    I closed my eyes. Not good. Not good at all. “I note your use of the word should. Can I take that to mean that it isn’t actually a null set?”
    “I don’t know.” Cerice cocked her head to one side, the way she often did when she’d found an absolutely fascinating programming problem. “It shouldn’t be possible for this string to work as an end address, but a file-received message came back to the mweb server in response to Shara’s forward. Take a look.”
    I leaned in. Sure enough, there was the standard response string from—I mentally translated the binary—souladmin@necessity . . . Dot, dot, dot? That didn’t make any sense at all. But there it was.
    The clear e-trail showed that whatever had happened to Shara made sense to the mweb architecture, but I hadn’t a clue how to do anything about it. Even if I knew where Necessity kept her personal server stack, I wouldn’t dare go after it. There are fates much worse than death. Just ask Prometheus.
     

CHAPTER FOUR
    “So now what?” I asked. Necessity had Shara, or at least her server did. While I might be willing to tackle Hades, the Fate of the Gods was a whole different story.
    Apparently, Cerice didn’t know what to do either. She just slumped in her chair and looked defeated. “We wait.”
    “I hate waiting.”
    Me too , said a text box on Melchior’s screen. All right if I go back to goblin now?
    I nodded, and Melchior shifted forms. “Why don’t you two head back to the apartment?” He made shooing gestures. “I’ll catch up in a little while.”
    “But I’ve got to—” Cerice began.
    Melchior didn’t let her finish. “Don’t argue. You’re out on your feet, and you’ve already told us your program’s screwed without Shara’s help. It won’t be any more screwed if you take thirty hours off, and maybe the rest will help you get some fresh perspective.”
    “Why thirty . . .” Cerice trailed off as she looked up at the clock. “Oh.” It was a quarter past one. In thirty hours it would be sunrise on Sunday, and the Furies would come to kill me.
    “Go,” said Melchior. “I’ll just tidy up around here.”
    “Thanks, Mel,” I said. He hates cleaning, probably even more than I do. This offer was entirely about giving Cerice and me some time alone. “I appreciate it.”
     
The first time we made love it was a desperate, against-the-living-room-wall affair, all sliding flesh and seeking tongues—striving to ignore the sword of Damocles hanging over us. The second go-round was slower and longer, with Cerice riding me to a climax on the oriental rug in the hall. Finally, in our own bed, we managed to forget everything but each other. There, massage led to caresses, which moved on to mutual nibbling, then to a slow passion, spooned-up together on our sides. Mutual orgasm. Exhaustion. Sleep. And . . .
    I was in the hallway at the front of the
University
of
Minnesota
’s
Weisman
Art Museum
. In front of me stood my cousin Moric. He wore head-to-toe armor, red and blue, blood and bruises. That couldn’t be right. Moric was dead, eaten by a burst of Primal Chaos that I had unleashed. Yet here he was.
    I heard gunshots from outside, and sparks danced on the back of his armor. He didn’t seem to notice, turning to face me instead of looking for the shooter.
    “Ah, dear little Raven. How nice of you to come out to meet me. Did you run out of places to hide? Or did you finally remember the nobility of your blood and decide to look your death in the face?”
    “Neither,” I said, echoing the words I’d spoken then through the mouth of a doppelganger. I wondered at his use of Raven . He’d died