to one side when he came to the show, and pump him for information. We wouldn’t resort to torture or anything so drastic — just try to scare a few answers out of him.
We were supposed to help the performers get ready for the show, but we told Mr. Tall we were busy and he assigned our tasks to other members of the troupe. If he knew about our plans for Darius, he didn’t say so.
There were two entrances to the big top. Shortly before the audience started to arrive, Harkat and I each took up a position close to one of the entry points, where we could watch for Darius. I was still worried about being recognized by somebody who’d known me in the past, so I stood in the shadows beside the entrance, disguised in a set of Harkat’s blue robes, the hood pulled up to hide my face. I watched silently as the early birds trickled in, handing their tickets to Jekkus Flang (Mr. Tall was on the other entrance). With every third or fourth customer, Jekkus threw their ticket into the air, then launched a knife at it, spearing it through the middle and pinning it to a nearby post.
As the trickle of people turned into a steady stream, and Jekkus pinned more and more tickets to the pole, the tickets and knives took on the outline of a hanged man. People chuckled edgily when they realized what Jekkus was doing. A few paused to commend him on his knife-throwing skills, but most hurried past to their seats, some glancing backwards at the figure of the hanged man, perhaps wondering if it was an omen of things to come.
I ignored the hanged man — I’d seen Jekkus perform this trick many times before — and focused on the faces in the crowd. It was hard to note everybody who passed in the crush, especially short people. Even if Darius entered this way, there was no guarantee I’d spot him.
Towards the end of the line, as the last members of the audience were filing in, Jekkus gave a gasp of surprise and abandoned his post. “Tom Jones!” he shouted, bounding forward. “What an honor!”
It was the town’s famous goalkeeper, Tom Jones — my old school friend!
Tommy smiled awkwardly and shook Jekkus’s hand. “Hi,” he coughed, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed him. Apart from those nearest us, nobody had — all eyes were fixed on the stage, as everyone awaited the start of the show.
“I’ve seen you play!” Jekkus enthused. “You’re awesome! Do you think we’ll win tomorrow? I wanted to get a ticket, but they were sold out.”
“It’s a big match,” Tommy said. “I could try to get one for you, but I don’t think —”
“That’s OK,” Jekkus interrupted. “I’m not trying to shake you down for free tickets. Just wanted to wish you good luck. Now, speaking of tickets, could I see yours?”
Tommy gave his ticket to Jekkus, who asked if Tommy would sign it for him. Tommy obliged and Jekkus pocketed the ticket, beaming happily. He offered to find a seat for Tommy near the front, but Tommy said he was happy to sit at the back. “I don’t think it would be good for my image if word got out that I came to shows like this,” he laughed.
As Tommy made his way to one of the few free seats, I breathed a sigh of relief — he hadn’t seen me. The luck of the vampires was on my side. I waited a few more minutes, until the final stragglers had been admitted, then crept out as Jekkus closed off the entrance. I linked up with Harkat.
“Did you see him?” I asked.
“No,” Harkat said. “You?”
“No. But I saw an old friend.” I told him about Tom Jones.
“Could it be a setup?” Harkat asked.
“I doubt it,” I said. “Tommy wanted to come to the Cirque Du Freak the last time it was in town. He’s here for the match tomorrow. He must have heard about the show and picked up a ticket — easy when you’re a celebrity.”
“But isn’t it a bit too coincidental that . . . he’s here the same time as us?” Harkat persisted.
“He’s here because our national team’s a World Cup
We were supposed to help the performers get ready for the show, but we told Mr. Tall we were busy and he assigned our tasks to other members of the troupe. If he knew about our plans for Darius, he didn’t say so.
There were two entrances to the big top. Shortly before the audience started to arrive, Harkat and I each took up a position close to one of the entry points, where we could watch for Darius. I was still worried about being recognized by somebody who’d known me in the past, so I stood in the shadows beside the entrance, disguised in a set of Harkat’s blue robes, the hood pulled up to hide my face. I watched silently as the early birds trickled in, handing their tickets to Jekkus Flang (Mr. Tall was on the other entrance). With every third or fourth customer, Jekkus threw their ticket into the air, then launched a knife at it, spearing it through the middle and pinning it to a nearby post.
As the trickle of people turned into a steady stream, and Jekkus pinned more and more tickets to the pole, the tickets and knives took on the outline of a hanged man. People chuckled edgily when they realized what Jekkus was doing. A few paused to commend him on his knife-throwing skills, but most hurried past to their seats, some glancing backwards at the figure of the hanged man, perhaps wondering if it was an omen of things to come.
I ignored the hanged man — I’d seen Jekkus perform this trick many times before — and focused on the faces in the crowd. It was hard to note everybody who passed in the crush, especially short people. Even if Darius entered this way, there was no guarantee I’d spot him.
Towards the end of the line, as the last members of the audience were filing in, Jekkus gave a gasp of surprise and abandoned his post. “Tom Jones!” he shouted, bounding forward. “What an honor!”
It was the town’s famous goalkeeper, Tom Jones — my old school friend!
Tommy smiled awkwardly and shook Jekkus’s hand. “Hi,” he coughed, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed him. Apart from those nearest us, nobody had — all eyes were fixed on the stage, as everyone awaited the start of the show.
“I’ve seen you play!” Jekkus enthused. “You’re awesome! Do you think we’ll win tomorrow? I wanted to get a ticket, but they were sold out.”
“It’s a big match,” Tommy said. “I could try to get one for you, but I don’t think —”
“That’s OK,” Jekkus interrupted. “I’m not trying to shake you down for free tickets. Just wanted to wish you good luck. Now, speaking of tickets, could I see yours?”
Tommy gave his ticket to Jekkus, who asked if Tommy would sign it for him. Tommy obliged and Jekkus pocketed the ticket, beaming happily. He offered to find a seat for Tommy near the front, but Tommy said he was happy to sit at the back. “I don’t think it would be good for my image if word got out that I came to shows like this,” he laughed.
As Tommy made his way to one of the few free seats, I breathed a sigh of relief — he hadn’t seen me. The luck of the vampires was on my side. I waited a few more minutes, until the final stragglers had been admitted, then crept out as Jekkus closed off the entrance. I linked up with Harkat.
“Did you see him?” I asked.
“No,” Harkat said. “You?”
“No. But I saw an old friend.” I told him about Tom Jones.
“Could it be a setup?” Harkat asked.
“I doubt it,” I said. “Tommy wanted to come to the Cirque Du Freak the last time it was in town. He’s here for the match tomorrow. He must have heard about the show and picked up a ticket — easy when you’re a celebrity.”
“But isn’t it a bit too coincidental that . . . he’s here the same time as us?” Harkat persisted.
“He’s here because our national team’s a World Cup
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