— Odi, don’t. — Ada threw out desperately. — Stay with us. Let him pick someone else.

  — This is my fate. — he shook his head and went on.

  And what was that supposed to mean? What kind of “fate”? He’s an independent person with his own will — not some character with a prewritten behavior model and scripted lines. Oh, that damn mystery of his! Sometimes it was… very much not to our benefit.

  The master of ceremonies climbed onto the stage first, and the two participants stood beside him and the guards. The guards, either while everyone’s attention was diverted, or once again straight out of thin air (no — I’ll have to dissect all these tricks later, piece by piece!), took masks into their hands.

  The same kind that adorned their own faces.

  They almost forced these items into the skinny man’s hands and Odile’s, urging them to put them on. The first nearly fainted, but complied — or rather, obeyed. Odi, on the other hand, instantly pulled it over his head and began to look even more imposing than usual.

  You could put it this way:

  “He radiated fear.”

  Though fear, supposedly, isn’t exactly compatible with radiation and shouldn’t be able to emit anything.

  When the procedure was complete, the master spoke again:

  — At this very moment, you will pass through total renewal. You — — his finger returned to Odile — — will become the executioner who will end the existence of his victim, and she will rise again as if nothing ever happened.

  The skinny man collapsed straight into the operator’s arms. To support him, I shouted:

  — Easy, man, it’s just a show. Come on, let’s have some fun for once. Look how hard the troupe is trying for us.

  — Thank you… — the master of ceremonies even hesitated in the middle of his pompous monologue, and I gave him a thumbs-up. After all, it’s exactly from these enthusiasts that we’ll swipe a couple of tricks and add them to our own arsenal — so I was thanking them in advance.

  My shout seemed to rally the remaining audience — people whooped and clapped. The skinny man even managed a weak smile. Ada, however, commented reproachfully:

  — Why are you getting involved in these stupid games?

  — Why not? It’s interesting. — I answered sincerely.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The brutes with the axes vanished into the darkness. One of them paused to hand his heavy weapon to Odile, who — clumsily, but without much strain — took it. I even felt a twinge of envy. I never considered myself particularly athletic.

  The master pointed to the spot where the skinny poor bastard was supposed to lie down, and he obeyed — reluctantly, but obediently. I switched back into heckler mode, cupping my hands around my mouth:

  — Odi, take his head clean off, full force! Come on! It’s the oldest trick in the book! No reason to drag it out!

  Our operator closed his eyes, gripped the handle with both hands, gave it a small test swing in the air — and then… whoa. Straight down. Full power. Dead on target. How the hell did he do that?! Didn’t even miss. Where did that level of professionalism come from?

  The neck cracked, and the head parted with it instantly, rolling across the stage to a mix of horrified howls and delighted laughter. The crowd surrendered to the shared madness; many had already been pulled fully into the unreality of what was happening.

  The body jerked convulsively, and I honestly thought it might start running like a headless chicken. No — that didn’t happen. Something else did.

  The stage beneath the master flared with neon light, and he took several steps toward the skull. Carefully picking it up, he raised it above his own head like a trophy. The pseudo-severed head in the bat mask looked downright awesome — hypnotic.

  — The offering is accepted. And a return gift has been granted. — he waved his hand carelessly. The stage beneath the fallen body ignited — and, predictably, it stood back up. Naturally, with its head back on its shoulders.

  Where’s my sad little flute or any other instrument? I yawned and only then realized how brutally hungry I was. I’d been running around on an empty stomach all day. Just a couple of chocolate bars Odile had brought along.

  Speaking of which — he wasn’t surprised by the resurrection either. Not in the slightest. He simply placed the weapon at his feet. Ada said sharply:

  — I need to get out. There’s no air in here. And this place disgusts me.

  I followed her, feeling that it really was time to bail. Beckoning to the operator, we turned on our phones and walked through the dark corridor toward the exit.

  Bright daylight scorched my eyes, and I blinked in surprise. I’d almost forgotten that the time of day hadn’t really changed — it had just drifted closer to evening.

  — So? What did you think? — I asked Adelgunda.

  — There’s something to learn from them. Even if I don’t like their methods. — she replied thoughtfully.

  — Exactly! They’re excellent tricksters, though not without flaws, of course. — I hurried to add, since praising anyone so openly wasn’t really in my nature.

  Odi emerged into the light too, along with a few other visitors — but unlike them, he looked crushed. The others were chirping excitedly, happily discussing the show, while the man of mystery stared at the ground and headed toward the road to call a taxi.

  We caught up with him, and Adelgunda gently suggested he let it go. That it was over. That we were all together again, close by — the usual therapeutic sweetness. It didn’t work. He remained grimly silent.

  Just as he stayed silent the entire way back to our hotel.

  Ada tried to draw at least a word out of him, but he stubbornly refused to speak. I didn’t meddle — my head was buzzing from fatigue and heat. Odi’s quirks could be dealt with later. After a proper dinner and some quality time sprawled on a hotel bed under air conditioning.

  Which turned out to be a hundred-percent lie I told myself.