"I can sense it's going to be a fantastic start to the run, Eadh. Oh, and Georgia...you keep his lap warm, alright?"
The first words I remember of that night were those of the stage manager, Steven; a cocky, perverted son of a bitch, but I trusted him with both my show and my life. He'd just walked in on me being used as a seat by one of the preceding act's showgirls. Now I know what you're thinking, but no, this wasn't Borgia's Palace. This was the Clint City theatre, a place I'd learnt to call home and a place I could fill to the brim with every run I did. And despite being a new guy to the job, Steven had proven himself more than brilliant in securing my current run. Whether he'd be just as brilliant during showtime, however, was a completely story.
But looking back now, I don't really know what I saw in Georgia. Maybe it was the fact that despite seeing my tricks at least half a dozen times, she was still impressed; unlike Lola, who would manage a smile on the stage, but behind the scenes she'd roll her eyes and complain "That old trick again?". Don't get me wrong, Lola's a sweet girl but I'm a magician, I have a compulsory need to impress people wherever I go...well, not that I really do my magician stuff anymore since I joined the Nightmare but...Eadh, focus. Just get on with it.
Georgia was still sat on my lap, trying to figure out the secret of the overlapping rings...oh yeah, that's why she was still easily impressed. Not because she refused to figure it out and dare risk ruining the magic but because she was thick as hell. This was a girl who constantly complimented Lola on how unblemished her neck looked despite being subject to our famous 'Devil's Guillotine' trick so often. But I didn't care; some guys go for brains and I respect them, but as long as these girls had a pretty face and they liked me then I liked them too.
I remember sneaking a quick kiss on her cheek as she'd continue to focus her efforts on the metal rings; her focus soon switching to yours truly as she returned the favour, I couldn't help but snatched the looped tricksters from her grasp, much to her annoyance.
"Oh, please show me another trick, Eadh. Those rings are too difficult."
"Well...girls like you get to see another kind of magic, if you know what I mean."
For some reason (most likely the alcohol), I decided that the best thing to do at that moment would be to almost smooch her face off; not that Georgia was complaining about that as she happily returned the favour once again, arms round each other's waists and completely losing sight of the world around us. Did I regret it? Not at all, but I think she did, especially when this remorseful expression hit her face as if she'd been caught doing something utterly scandalous, though upon turning around I realised she had been caught.
"Eadh Lees, you sleazy bastard!
And so had I. I couldn't even bring myself to meet her gaze, whilst it was all left to Georgia to try and (unsuccessfully) reason with her.
"Lola, please-"
"Shut up, I'm shouting at him!" Lola snapped, her response only causing the showgirl to hold onto me even tighter. She quickly turned her attention to yours truly, arms crossed as only she knew how and all that motion meant was trouble. Seriously, that little mare was as easily peeved off as they came.
"Just what do you have to say for yourself?"
"Erm...want to join in?"
It was the worst thing I could have said; despite the somewhat questionable outfits she grown used to, Lola was a very respectable, Christian woman (the stories saying she was my mistress were strictly horseshit) and there was no way she'd ever even consider a threesome to be ok. If looks could kill...well, I wouldn't have been around to tell this story.
Shooting me what looked like the guillotine gesture, she then turned her attention to Georgia and all that little slut had to suffer was a rather disappointed glance; the latter suddenly following and apologising rather profusely as she tried to catch up with the retreating Lola, I couldn't help but simply shrug as if nothing had happened. Of course, I felt terribly guilty but I couldn't let emotion and drama set me on-edge and affect my performance; I'd already let down Lola that night, so I certainly wasn't about to let down Steven.
The usual stuff and nonsense was spread out on the dressing table as I stood up from my chair; flowers, chocolates, good luck cards, but all I cared about was the nearest bottle of wine. Upon snatching the prize by it's green, glass neck, I couldn't help but notice Lola's cherished teddy bear fall over; glass eyes staring at me as if to say 'how could you?' to both his little fall and my little spurt of unfaithfulness. In a burst of drunken rage, I slapped him right off the table and on his way into the bin where he belonged. I didn't need that furry bastard judging me.
"Five minutes until showtime, Eadh," Steven suddenly announced, peering his head round the door and soon donning a rather confused expression. "Erm, where's Lola?"
"Hate to disappoint you," I said, knocking back a swig of wine from the bottle and not caring that I'd spilt the liquid claret on myself. "But tonight's gonna be a one man show."
It took him a while to realise exactly what was going on but when he did, there was this look of sheer shock on his face as if he'd just envisioned hell on earth.
"Eadh, I respect you a great deal, but you can't do the Devil's Guillotine on your own!"
"Oh keep your bloody opinions to yourself!" I responded, swiftly pushing him away. I...I think that was most likely the drink taking over at that point. Not that the audience cared about my boozy state, they were just happy that their tickets hadn't been wasted; knowing that they'd only come for my big finale, I still decided to warm them up and take them for a ride for the next hour or so with a few of my favourite tricks and feats. A lot of magicians like to set up a mind boggling illusion or sleight of hand for their grand finale, but all that is just mere child's play to me; the more chance my finale has of killing me, the better. Just...don't expect to see any rabbits in hats anytime soon though, I really don't work well with animals.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for!" I declared, slurring my hyped words. "Now usually I have my lovely assistant Lola helping me with this trick. But tonight..."
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed said assistant was lurking in the wings, sitting down with no intention of forgiving and forgetting and joining me on the stage. I was pissed, she was pissed off. Believe me, I'd never seen such a dark stare form on her face and I couldn't help but feel a little hurt and intimidated that she was directing it at me.
I wondered whether to announce the truth out loud there and then, but the drink forced the words out of my mouth before I had time to properly think.
"Well...screw her! I don't need her to give you what you came here to see!"
"To be honest, I just came here to see her," I heard a disappointed voice amongst the front row scoff.
"Shut up!" I retorted, giving a rather dismissive gesture before I managed to shuffle my way towards the wooden guillotine; clumsily yet ably undoing the knot in the rope, I felt said rope slip through my fingers and slightly burn my skin. Luckily, I was able to regain control and tighten the rope once more, slowly pulling the guillotine's blade back into the air; what point was there in it falling if there was no victim in place yet? Usually it was Lola but her participation was out of the question so it was all up to me.
However, it soon seemed I was the wrong person to go solo when I suddenly tripped out of my drunkenness and stumbled into the gap where the victim usually lay; my grip on the rope suddenly non-existent, I realised that that was the worst mistake I could have made. Most magicians suffered a knock to their reputation if a trick fell foul but this was about to end much, much more disastrously.
I remember the sharp, metal blade falling towards my neck; out and control and far too quickly, there was a sharp jolt of pain as it sliced through my neck as if I was a man of paper, not the drunken flesh and blood that the audience had just seen decapitated. I remember the hysterical screams and Steven's voice demanding that no one called an ambulance as he'd rushed on stage to tend to my stricken body; not really understanding at the time why he'd been so adamant in the services not coming to my aid, all I could hear was the continuous screaming through the darkness. And then...
Silence.
Complete and utter silence.
I remember thinking that I was on my way to hell and that it's demons were about to come and carry me there. But there was soon light at the end of that tunnel. As I felt my eyes slowly flicker open after what seemed like a lifetime, my head felt almost as light as air, as if the body weighing it down had been taken out of the picture. Though upon a quick glance around the room (despite the sudden inability to turn my head), I soon saw this was the case; sprawled on the couch was my limp, lifeless body, though I soon realised it was simply fatigued from the shock.
"I see you're awake then."
"St...Steven?"
As the male carefully sat himself down next to my resting body, wine in hand, I couldn't help but feel I was looking at a complete stranger; he looked like Steven, he sounded like Steven yet he didn't feel like Steven. Especially with his ginger hair sticking up in spokes and not in it's usual, gelled back do as I was used to.
"Yeah, about that," he began to explain, straightening his bow tie. "There was no Steven. He was just an alias I'd taken up when the old manager of this dump bit the dust and made his way into our graveyard. My name's really Estalt, I was asked to do a little sleuthing for reasons I shouldn't really delve into with non-clan mortals."
Ugh, clans. They were the exact reason why I'd turned down performing at Borgia's Palace, as I'd just wanted to make my name in this city without being stigmatised with the reputation that certain clans have. My annoyance at it all must have been noticeable though , as Estalt suddenly chuckled in a rather bemused way.
"I think you need some wine," he suggested quite deviously, pouring a little of the liquid claret into the wine glass before cheekily (and tactfully, upon realising my situation) popping what looked like a straw into the drink; having it gently placed infront of me to take a mouthful, I couldn't help but feel rather frustrated when the wine rushed straight through my neck and stained the dressing room chair.
"Why didn't you just let me stay dead?!" I moaned, shuddering a little as my head sat in the claret puddle.
"You've got guts," Estalt explained, with a surprisingly warm smirk. "I take a shine to mortals with guts, especially where death is concerned. The least I could do was reward you with resurrection, though I don't really dabble in putting mortal parts back together. Sorry."
"...Eadh?"
A familiar face burst into the dressing room, donning a rather shocked and concerned expression at both my predicament and the redhead stranger who was stood by my side; said stranger having taken a step back out of respect, Lola had now turned her attention on me as she bent down to the chair's level and began to stroke my hair.
"I feel like a right bitch," she said, almost spitting the b word out in disgust. "I was hoping something would happen to teach you a lesson but I never wanted this."
"Surely if life was going to teach me a lesson," I began, finding myself chuckling at my oncoming reasoning. "Then surely the blade would have cut off my dick."
"That wouldn't really work because the blade goes nowhere near your manhood," she responded, rather matter-of-factly. Though her seriousness soon turned to shock when she finally noticed Estalt, who had 'stood up in the presence of such a dazzling beauty'. Yes, he seriously called her that, but she was having none of it; slapping him there and then for his insolence, she immediately bent down to my level again and flashed me the sweetest and only smile she'd sent in my direction that day.
"Why on earth would you let him, in his drunken state, do that trick on his own, Steven?!" She exclaimed, suddenly turning her attention to the redhead and sounding rather stern as she did so. I remember her then telling 'Steven' where to get off and just what was I supposed to do now I looked like the headless horseman's suave, younger brother. I remember the sheer look of shock on her face when Estalt told her of his true identity, and the second slap when he dared to kiss her on the cheek to prove some silly, little point.
This must be a real nightmare for you, Eadh," Lola said, sounding rather apologetic.
"Speaking of which," Estalt began, rubbing the scarlet cheek. "I was about to discuss a proposal before you walked in. I believe my clan would be the perfect place for you now, thanks to your little accident. You could still do your magic, though I doubt I can keep a hold of this theatre when the authorities start snooping. They never did like me."
"Oh gee, I wonder why," Lola scoffed, rather sarcastically.
"Just one question though," I asked, gently interrupting her (but she'd soon forgive me for it). "Would Lola be able to come with me?"
The fact that I joined the Nightmare on my own should make it clear what Estalt's answer was, but just because she wasn't allowed to be part of the clan didn't mean she wasn't allowed to stay in my life; despite a few rocky patches after that night, our relationship has done nothing but grow stronger ever since. Ielena can't stand her guts but I'm still glad that we get to see each other, even if people initially think she's 'that Lola from that motel clan'.
Besides, losing my head would have never been the worst part, but losing her...well let's just say that if the former had to happen for the latter to never come true, then I have no regrets.