… trying to get a good buffer before the crazy that is Comic-Con starts. That is all. Oh wait, an excerpt:
“So … how’s the investigation going,” I asks warily.
Mom chews, thinking. “Like shit,” she says. “One round of emails, mostly to my friends, but neither Philip nor Jinx nor Avenix were able to track the emails back to the source. They’re arguing now whether it’s Korean or Russian hackers, based on plaintext in the binaries, but—”
“That could be, like, contract work, or a smokescreen,” I says, tryin’ to keep up.
“Either one would be scary,” Mom says. “There’s more thought going into this assault than at first I thought.”
“And you’re still cuttin’ me out,” I says, scowling.
“Until Jinx gets us a way to look at the material without getting killed, yes.” Mom says. “After we have a better grip on what’s safe … actually, I would love your mathematical expertise on this one, Cinnamon.”
“Why?” I asks suspiciously.
“The mathematical patterns in the display code,” Mom says. “Jinx says they remind her of your cat’s cradles—”
“I did not have anything to do with this,” I says hotly.
“I know, I know,” Mom says, “but you are familiar with dangerous magic. I … I just don’t want you hurt, but you might be able to help us.”
“Fine,” I says. “Math is supposed to be fun, not a chore.”
“You don’t have to help,” Mom says.
“I’ll do it,” I says. “I … sigh, can I lay the cards on the table, Mom?”
“Sure.”
“I feel better, and want to go for a run tonight,” I says.
Mom purses her lips.
“I’ve already asked a friend from the werehouse, like you asked,” I says. I juts my chin out in defiance. “My boyfriend. Tully.”
Mom frowns.
“Whatdja got to say about that?” I asks defiantly.
Mom shrugs. “That … is what I said, isn’t it. Run with a friend from the werehouse—”
“It sure as hell is,” I shoots back.
“What about that thing on your ankle?” Mom says.
“I’ll be sure not to take it into any Edgeworld locations,” I says. “I ain’t stupid.”
Lots going on there. More to come. That is all.
-the Centaur
