Novel - The Supernaturalist by Eoin Colfer

heal, then I may as well go back to the old job. The pay is better and I don’t have to put up with your teenage moods.”
    Stefan’s gaze could have drilled holes in titanium. “Ditto. Now is not the time.”
    Ditto glared right back. “Not the time? Now we only save lives when you say so? Well, if I had known that, I would have stayed home in our palace and had a few beers.”
    Stefan ground his teeth, both in frustration and to stop himself from smiling. “Ditto, one of these days I’m going to sign you up for kindergarten, so help me. Okay, take Mona, get down near ground level. No risks though. These are not the type of people we generally deal with. These are armed killers. If you can help someone, then help them, but my advice is to tranquilize them first. And wear your fuzz plates. You never know.”
    Ditto grinned. “Stefan, you’re a sweetheart.” The Bartoli baby trotted down a connecting stairwell, surefooted as a goat. Mona ran after him, swearing in Spanish. They made their way across pipes and down rails until they straddled a cable conduit directly above the assembly line. In the event of a disaster, it would be a simple matter to lay down a bridge to ground level.
    Stefan followed their progress through field glasses. “They’re safe.”
    Cosmo lay beside him on the gantry. “Shouldn’t we go down with her . . . them?”
    Stefan kept his eyes on the scene below. “A bit of advice, Cosmo. Don’t get too attached to Mona. She is the best Spotter I’ve ever seen, but some day she’ll move on. And to answer your question, we can cover them from here. If they get in trouble we can create a diversion, draw fire away.”
    Cosmo sighed. Drawing fire sounded even more dangerous than everything else they had done so far.
    Stefan misinterpreted the sigh. “Don’t worry about it, kid,” he said, rapping Cosmo playfully on his robotix plate. “I don’t suppose they teach military tactics in Clarissa Frayne.”
    The rap reminded Cosmo that parts of his body were not the originals. How much had changed in a week. New knee, new forehead, new friends, new life. Cosmo gazed down at the hundred armed gang members. New life—for how long?
    Ditto balanced easily on the cable conduit. He was a natural gymnast in spite of his size. Maybe you got used to your body when it hadn’t changed in decades. “So you like the kid?” he said, in a teasing tone that belied his angelic face. “Your little chico ?”
    “Yes, sure, I like Cosmo. He’s a good kid. Learns fast.”
    Mona lay flat on the conduit, scanning the crowd below her for Miguel. If she had a chance to save anyone, it would be Miguel. He’d taken her in off the street when a couple of his boys had caught her trying a little booshka on a Sweetheart auto. Instead of punishing her, Miguel had put her to work.
    Ditto chuckled. “He’s a good kid? Come on, Vasquez, it’s me you’re talking to. You’ve been marginally less grumpy since he got here.”
    “Company, okay? It’s nice to have someone my own age around Abracadabra Street.”
    Ditto kept on needling. “It’s not as if he’s handsome. No hair yet to speak of, and that forehead looks like he’s got a porcupine hiding under there.”
    “Well, at least he’s tall,” said Mona pointedly.
    “Look who’s getting protective? Do I sense a crack in the Vasquez armor?”
    Mona would never admit it to the Bartoli baby, but in a way he was right. The orphan kid was interesting. He had made quite an entrance into their lives as he lay smoking on a rooftop. Then he had gone on to save her life. After that he would have to have the personality of a hungry bear for her not to like him. “He’s just a friend. That’s all. Maybe that concept is too big for you to understand.”
    Ditto grinned, delighted that his needling was having an effect. “Oh, big jokes now is it? I may be small, Vasquez, but I have more brains in my undersized head than the rest of the Supernaturalists put