“Shoot me,” Clara said, imitating a drill sergeant.
“Yes, Sister,” Agnes said.
It was the first time someone referred to her as a nun and Clara honestly hated it. The sisters were always old, stiff, and formal. At least I’m old.
Agnes aimed for the chest and fired. Julia’s eyes expanded in size, as the powder charge went off. It was a good shot, a quarter of an inch off from where her heart was. Yet it bounced off the clothing and landed harmlessly on the stone floor.
The second shot did the same even with an impact against her forehead. Neither projectile left any visible marks. She’s pretty good with the weapon.

Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.








