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Were Performers?!

  She was obviously bluffing. I don’t recall her having time to talk to the cops during our short walk to the hall. But the master of ceremonies didn’t know that. Would he bite?

  — You seem to forget that you’re speaking to those who create illusions far better than you ever could. So don’t bother trying to fool me. I won’t even trouble myself with asking my brothers to confiscate your belongings. — He shook his head and smirked crookedly. — Just stand there and enjoy the continuation of the performance.

  At that moment Ada lunged toward the stage and was instantly restrained, locked in muscular grips. Apparently, judging by the outcome, Odile hadn’t been able (or hadn’t wanted?!) to break free either. And Ada and I certainly couldn’t.

  I stood quietly, behaving like a good boy, frantically trying to think of what to do. There were no thoughts. So I just listened to my colleague’s furious shouts and helplessly looked away.

  The master didn’t waste time and pressed down on a floorboard. A hole opened. The opening formed exactly where our operator lay, and he dropped into it and vanished beneath the stage. A moment later, he reappeared, rising back up on lifting planks.

  — Slick. — I commented. — Pretty simple, but still not bad.

  — And simplicity works. — the master confirmed. — We choose a victim from the audience whom no one will worry about or look for. Throughout history, people without a home were best suited for this role, so we decided not to stray from tradition. A headpiece is placed on the person, and they lie down in the designated spot, where their head is severed with a real weapon.

  After that, the body falls through, and one of our brothers — similar in build to the deceased — takes his place. All of this happens while the light and all attention are focused solely on me.

  — And Odile didn’t see that? — I asked a perfectly logical question, and got a brisk answer:

  — At the moment of substitution, a spotlight is aimed straight into his eyes, blinding him.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  — Damn, it’s all so simple! — I exclaimed, both impressed and cursing. — And yet, hell, it actually works!

  — NoWay, what are you even talking about? Do you see our situation? — Adelgunda cried out in anger and fear, but the master cut her off:

  — Unlike you, he sees everything and understands the full value of the show. For him, it’s a second breath. As for you — you’re merely expendable material.

  From the darkness behind the master emerged a man of rather unimpressive build, holding a heavy sword. Despite his unheroic appearance, he darted toward Odile with practiced ease and—

  Once.

  And the head was off the shoulders. Clean.

  My vision swam, nausea rose in my throat. I think Ada screamed piercingly, and one of the brutes burst out laughing at our reaction. I urgently needed to sit down! I collapsed onto the floor, staring in shock at our (now former) operator.

  This was a nightmare.

  I wasn’t allowed to sit long. One guard yanked me up, while the other turned Ada to face me. At the same time, the master explained what came next:

  — Now look carefully into the eyes of your proud companion. Is she ready to share your friend’s fate?

  From Ada’s bloodless lips I could read only one word: “No.” And I hadn’t expected anything else. What could she possibly say? I lowered my head even further and asked in a breaking, slightly shrill voice:

  — What do I have to do?

  — Have fun. After all, that’s what you love most. So let’s take a little ride.

  Bound again, we were led back into the corridor. We barely resisted. The image of Odile’s head separating from his body was burned into my eyes — and honestly, it wasn’t the kind of movie I wanted to watch before sleep.

  — Why? Why did you do this to him?! — Ada and I asked over and over.

  No one answered. They simply led us outside, where the taxi driver we’d asked to wait was still standing near the pavilion.

  — How convenient. — the master remarked. — You even brought us a car. Get in.

  They shoved us into the cab without any concern for comfort — first they roughly tossed Ada inside, then the master of ceremonies sat down in the middle. Only after that did they seat me.

  I assumed at least one of the brutes would take the front seat to keep an eye on us, but none of them did. Strange… even though they’d left their cold weapons back in the circus, they still had obvious physical superiority.

  And as an intimidation factor, they worked flawlessly.

  The driver turned toward us in shock, staring wide-eyed at the strange masked client in a robe. I automatically blurted out:

  — We’re performers. Just finished a show.

  He didn’t know English, but apparently caught the gist, because he pointed toward the circus and smiled broadly. Either he or his kids must have liked places like that.

  But who the hell cared?! None of this mattered!

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