. . .

“She’s not blinded to us,” says Jane. “Look at those neck somatics! She’s trying desperately not to look up no matter how loud our hasty, whispered conversation gets!”

“That’s true,” says Tom. “Look at her twitch when I say her name!”

“You didn’t say her name,” Edmund notes.

“Maria,” says Tom, “I mean.”

“Wow,” says Jane.

“That’s a twitch.”

“And another one,” says Linus excitedly. “Should we tease her more?”

“No!” says Jane. “Do not tease the space princess assassin trying not to notice your stealthy antichrist presence!”

“Stop yelling about it, Jane!” yells Tom.

She head-butts him. He pulls her hair. They fall out of the tree-house and land with a thump just as Maria fortuitously turns around and begins to patrol away.

“Ow,” mutters Jane.

“Oi!” yells Edmund. “You two all right?”

The tip of a space rifle protrudes from Maria’s umbrella. She points it vaguely upwards. She fires two shots. With a crack one of the stars in the distant sky goes out.

Edmund shuts up.

“But where,” wonders Linus, “did the other shot go?”

<< . . .

. . . >>