The only thing stopping me was the feeling that this was just part of the performance. Nothing more.

  So who’s the genius here?!

  Turns out I read it right.

  The moment the beetles reached the first line of boxes with mats, they began to wither and instantly turn into cinders. That’s how they fell, carpeting the floor with their little bodies. The smell was horrific — which pleased only me, since it overpowered my own.

  The crowd gradually calmed down and pulled out handheld fans (those who had them), or simply handkerchiefs, trying to waft the stench away. Clearly, no ventilation system had been planned. And the bare-chested brutes on stage lowered their axes and snapped to attention.

  Ada’s palm slid into mine, and mine closed around it at the exact same second. Yeah… we got properly scared. A sweaty hand timidly touched my other one, and without even looking I brushed it away. Maybe that pervert was reaching out because he was scared too — but I didn’t care. Let him touch himself.

  Any chance he’s related to that weirdo from Greenland?

  Just as some woman cheerfully said:

  — Phew… we survived. — a brand-new screamer decided to burst in and pay us a visit.

  The ceiling of this tent-city shuddered, as if blasted by every wind in the world at once. What was the name of that hound of the winds in mythology? Boreas, I think. Well, looks like he’d dragged his entire entourage in here — and probably paid someone overtime.

  The roof began to sink lower, crushed by the merciless elements, and then we heard a dull, massively powerful impact somewhere near the circus. A serious bang. I flew off the box, and the last thing I managed to see was:

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  A breach.

  The tent tore open in one spot, forming a huge hole that instantly stretched along the line of a gigantic foot, which slammed down exactly where the dead beetles had been lying — and crushed them with a horrifying crack.

  — HOLY FUCK! — I screamed and crawled under the saving box. Though how exactly was it supposed to save me?! This wasn’t even the proverbial straw. This was worse.

  Ada clutched her head and shook so violently that her seat was rattling beneath her. The screams inside were piercing, and I fully understood and accepted every single sound — because I wanted to scream just as loudly.

  How much courage did I have left? A fraction? That single fraction was all I had to use in order to carefully peek out.

  The leg was still there. Colossal, wildly hairy, and bear-like — if not for the perfectly human foot. It stood motionless.

  Some enthusiast showed up, cheerfully announcing to everyone in Masri (Ada automatically translated, as she always did):

  — I’m gonna go take a selfie with it.

  Maybe the giant foot was frightened by the horrifying prospect of going viral. Or maybe it had other reasons.

  Either way, it dissipated in a burst of theatrical smoke, and in its place appeared that same master of ceremonies in the lilac robe. He stood there, silently staring into the hall. Meanwhile, I climbed back onto the box and tried to settle on it.

  The audience area emptied out. People turned on their flashlights and ran off as far as possible. What remained were either the bravest — or the brainless and completely unhinged.

  I didn’t count my team among either.

  Rather… among the most interested.

  And the one presiding over this infernal chapiteau declared expressively:

  — A new stage of this deadly dance now begins. I need two participants from the audience, who will do the unthinkable. You! — he pointed at a scrawny man with a painfully gaunt face. — And you! — now his finger shifted to Odile.

  — Stand up and accept your fate. Follow me, if you wish to take part in something that will never again fall to your modest lot.

  The skinny man stood up and walked on stiff legs — apparently guided by fear and a total lack of understanding of what was happening. He was clearly hypnotized by the unfolding phantasmagoria. He trembled so hard that every tooth could be heard as his jaw clattered.

  Our operator — who, by the way, had completely forgotten his desire to film the performance (and flushed a ton of top-tier content down the drain, the bastard!) — slowly rose and followed him.

  His eyes were half-open, but there wasn’t a single emotion in them.

  Empty.

  Cold.