Page 34 of Gunslinger Girl
“Shhh! Here they come!”
From the ceiling, the Rousseaus descended on ropes like spiders on their silk. What skin on their elfin forms wasn’t concealed by gold costumes was painted in intricate, colorful patterns. Even their faces were covered.
“Did you do that?” Pity whispered to Max. He nodded proudly.
Suddenly, the five youths released their ropes. Pity started as they plunged, only to stop abruptly, a loop around one ankle keeping them aloft. The rigging holding them started to spin, and the Rousseaus extended their arms as the motion carried them outward, until they soared like birds through the air. She felt her heart rise into her throat; a slip would be all it took to catapult an unlucky Rousseau into the upper reaches of the stands. Finally, the rotation slowed, and the quints themselves began to spin, faster and faster, until they were blurs. Applause thundered in the stands. Pity stole a glance at the rapt faces of the audience, wondering what excited them more: the aerobatics or the possibility that one of the performers might plunge to their death at any moment.
On it went, a series of nerve-racking stunts filling tense minutes. For the climax of their act they launched themselves one by one through a flaming ring, bowing in midair before the ropes pulled them back up into the darkness above.
Soldiers in chariots drawn by real horses appeared next, enacting some ancient battle where men and women in shining silver armor massacred a band of iron- and leather-clad warriors. No detail was spared. When a soldier thrust a long spear into the chest of a warrior woman, the blood that exploded forth looked so real that Pity cried out.
“It’s all part of the show,” Max reassured her. And, indeed, the young woman danced off minutes later, along with a dozen other corpses.
“It looks so real,” she muttered, embarrassed.
“It’s supposed to,” he said. “They’re spring-loaded weapons packed with fake blood—I mixed it myself. Still haven’t got the color quite right, though.”
“And now, my friends,” Halcyon announced. “No more masquerade. It’s time for a true matter of life and death… and of love. I give you—Marius and Eva Zidane!”
The Zidanes rose out of the floor on either side of Halcyon, their backs to each other. Dressed in matching suits of black, red, and cream, with a slit skirt for Eva, both wore belts of knives strapped around their waists. The metal glinted under the bright lights. When Halcyon was gone, they turned slowly and approached each other, eyes locked. Throughout the arena, pieces of wall began to rise out of the floor. Of varying size and spacing, they were set at odd angles, like a maze with pieces torn out. A droning, exotic melody began to play, along with a slow, booming drumbeat.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The walls locked into place.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The music grew louder and louder, its energy drawing the anticipation in the room upward until, with a final crash—
It ceased.
Eva and Marius spun from each other and ran. As each reached a section of wall, they turned, arms arcing through the air. A heartbeat later, knives embedded in wood—one above Eva’s shoulder, the other inches from Marius’s cheek. They dove for cover. From there, they began to stalk each other, darting from one wall piece to another.
Pity watched as the dreadful hunt played out, cringing each time a blade came close to impaling its intended target. “Is this real?”
“Of course it is.” Luster’s eyes were glassy with excitement.
But Max shrugged. “Only Eva and Marius know for sure.”
The audience screamed as one of Marius’s knives pinned Eva’s skirt. She ripped it free and lunged as another blade cut through the air she had just occupied.
The drumming began again. It beat a slow rhythm as the couple pulled their final knives. On opposite sides of the arena, concealed behind twin sections of wall, open space was all that separated them. In the same moment, the pair bolted from cover and dashed forward. Arms slashed up as they threw—
And up again as they plucked the other’s knife from the air, mid-flight.
They came to a halt scant inches apart. Eva’s blade was at Marius’s throat; his was pointed at her chest. The audience roared their approval as the Zidanes dropped the weapons and kissed.
As they bowed and exited, Pity watched the floor, expecting Halcyon to reemerge. Instead, only his voice rang out.
“You’ve all been very patient.” His tone was teasing, dark. “And I know you know that tonight is different. That we have a special kind of act to send you off, one that does not happen often.”
The Finale? Pity slid forward again, achingly curious about what could top Scylla’s sensuality, the Rousseaus’ skills, or the terrifying grace of the Zidanes.
I’m giving you to the Theatre, too.
Pity’s blood turned cold as Selene’s words surfaced in her mind.
Suddenly she knew there was only one thing to surmount what she had already seen:
