George delivered justice with a burning bottle of gasoline.
The home-made grenade traced an arc of fire through the night air, as neat as a line drawn by a compass. George heard the bottle punch through the window and reached back for the next one.
"I still say we should kill him for what he did." Henry-Stephen slapped another sloshing bottle into George's hand. "I know Lizzy
her family too."
"So do I, but it's too risky." George unfolded his plasma lighter, and applied its flaring tip to the to the oily rags spilling out of the neck of the bottle. "Besides, a man like this keeps his soul in his wallet." He sighted on one of the triangular skylights, high up on the curved roof of the pagan's townhouse. "This way, we hit him where it hurts." The bottle left his hand in another trail of fire, and glass shattered.
The Ilinwa man who lived in this house was wealthy. Wealthy enough to afford such a large place in downtown Shikaakwa. Wealthy enough to employ a housekeeper, al