"Here they come!"
Across the street, a figure darted from one parked car to another. A man suddenly ran behind the car that was poised on the corner. Stan could make out other figures moving behind the windows across the street.
There was the familiar spanging sound and a series of holes stitched themselves in the fragments of glass left in the window frame, three inches from his cheek. There was an impression of speed and heat and a crackling sound as the tiny projectiles thudded into the plaster behind him.
A pale, violet glow flashed out from Tanner's window and one of the figures on the street suddenly raised its hands in agony as flames crisped its clothing and burned its flesh. It staggered a few feet and finally fell in a flaming mass, its screams of agony splitting the still air.
Stan let his breath out slowly. He hadn't got a good look at the figure and for one brief moment he had thought it was ... Avis.
Which was an odd way to feel about a woman who would gladly slit his throat, he thought.
"One!" Tanner said grimly.
Stan flamed one of the automobiles and narrowly missed a small figure which scuttled out from behind it. He stole a look at Tanner. The man's face was flushed and shining, a half grin of expectancy was painted on it.
He himself did it as a duty, Stan thought soberly.