She stood in front of me, blinking, ready to spit another word before I shut her down. I yanked the chain and pulled her toward the table as I sat down.
I opened the drawer and pulled out the leather sack, spreading it open on the table. It had knives inside, all the same size and shape. It was the first thing I ever learned to perform, throwing knives.
“We are on in fifteen minutes,” I said, pointing at the black and white wheel in the corner. A wooden target I used to practice on. Tonight, she would be the center.
“Are you going to kill me in front of everyone?” she asked, looking at the knives, then at the wheel.
I chuckled, taking one knife out. The chain rattled as I pulled her closer until her head was level with mine. I pressed the knife along her cheek, meeting her eyes.
“I’ll leave that for the final act,” I whispered, tracing the blade down her neck, stopping at her breast. She swallowed hard, her breath shaking as the blade slid to her rightside.
Her chest trembled when I let the flat of the knife drag down her sternum. “You’re shaking,” I murmured, leaning closer, my breath brushing her skin. “You want me to stop?”
She didn’t speak. Her lips parted, only a quiet gasp escaping. Her mouth wanted to curse me, but her body wanted me in.
I felt it, because I wanted the same.
I tilted my head and leaned closer until my face brushed hers.
“Didn’t think so.”
The circus music outside began to play. I stood and turned her around, sitting her on the table. My body pressed between her legs as I leaned in.
“You think I’ll miss tonight?” I said, raising the knife again, resting it beneath her neck.
She met my eyes, then pushed me gently, leaning closer to the blade. “Maybe you should.”
I laughed, stepped back, and threw the knife. The blade struck the center of the wheel with a sharp thud. She blinked, startled.
“I never miss.”
She swallowed again. I lowered my mouth to her ear.
“Pray, Doll,” I whispered, “that my hands don’t slip.”
I stepped away, leaving her breathless. Her hand went to the choker around her neck as if she needed space to breathe.
I went to the table, pulled the chain tight, and locked it to the golden iron bar I used for the animals.
“Ten minutes,” I said over my shoulder. “Be ready. And fix your face. Your paint’s smudged. Can’t have my doll looking broken before the curtain rises.”
I stepped out of the tent, pushing the curtain aside.
People were everywhere, rushing, laughing, their kids playing. The main tent was filling fast. I took a cigarette from my pocket, lit it, and inhaled until the smoke burned down my throat.
A man approached me, dressed in a black suit and a black mask. He didn’t speak, only handed me a black envelope.
I looked at him, then at it, ready to ask, but he was already gone.
I slipped a cigarette between my lips and tore open the envelope.
Inside was a letter written in gold:
“Dear Mr. Ricci,
We received your invitation, and we will be watching. If we find you worthy of being a member, you will be invited.
The Circle.”
