The blonde came to the center of the stage and asked for a volunteer. Emperor paced behind her. Dick wanted to do it, but Theresa took hold of his wrists and made her point known. A man to the right of the stage beat him to it anyway. Emperor clasped his hands together and the woman explained the next trick.

“This time, you throw the ax at him. And he”—she fanned a smooth palm toward Emperor—“will be blind.”

The crowd moaned. This was too much. The room for error, human error…

“It’s too much!” Theresa said, louder than a whisper.

The volunteer was clearly nervous, but before he could back out the blonde had the ax in his hand and was showing him the most effective way to throw it.

“Use force,” she said. “Do not be shy.”

A slight hint of an accent. Dick couldn’t place it. Finnish?

“Thank you, Maggie,” Roman said.

The audience laughed.

Maggie, Dick thought. Then Maggie turned Roman around so that he was facing the audience.

The crowd was very still. Theresa was about set to break Dick’s arm off. Someone sneaked out. Couldn’t take it.

“Are you ready?” Maggie asked.

Roman, his back to her, nodded.

Maggie looked to the volunteer.

“We’re ready,” she said.

The volunteer threw the ax.

The theater lights went out.

Something fell hard to the stage.

The audience was up, yelling, asking what happened, asking if Emperor was okay.

Dick had a terrible vision of the lights coming back on to reveal the magician on the floor, the ax splitting the back of his skull, Maggie kneeling above him…

It’s a small show, Dick thought. He tried to resist the thinking but it wasn’t easy. They’re not as practiced as those people on TV, those fruitcakes in Vegas.

Then, Jesus Christ, was there an accident? IS HE DEAD?

“What have I done!” the volunteer wailed.

The lights came on.

Maggie was smiling. The ax was frozen an inch from Emperor’s skull. The volunteer fell to his knees and looked like he might cry. Then he started laughing.

“Fuck!” he cried, and the audience felt his relief.

Then the crowd was on their feet and cheering. Dick knew that, if he were ever to see any of these people on the street, he could say, Yes. I was there, too.

The ax spun slowly behind Emperor’s head and came to a stop. The audience, still on their feet, hushed.

The blade cried out as it bent behind him, the weapon warped, folding in on itself. The handle snapped in two. Maggie put her hands on her hips and shook her head theatrically.

“Showing off,” she said.

Finnish? Dick wondered. Czech?

The ax vanished. Smoke hung in the air behind the magician.

And that was it. The end of the show.

No music. No set design. No pyrotechnics. And yet…the greatest show Dick Mable had ever seen.

“Magic,” Roman said, obviously awkward, clearly anxious, “is real.”