Free Sleeping Beauty and the Demon by Marina Myles

out. “You, sir. Would you be so kind as to join me onstage?”
    In response, Patrick pointed a finger toward himself and mouthed the word: “Me?”
    “Yes, you. The man in the seersucker jacket. I believe your name is Patrick O’Leary. Is that right?”
    Patrick nodded, then looked at Rose. “I’m going to prove this fellow is a fraud.”
    Finding herself speechless, Rose watched him hasten up the steps and take a spot next to Drago.
    “Thank you for participating, Mr. O’Leary,” Drago said. “That is your name, isn’t it?”
    Mouth agape, Patrick nodded.
    Without wasting any more time, Katherine bound Patrick’s hands with a rope while Drago explained the stages of the trick for the audience’s benefit.
    “As you can plainly see, Katherine is incapacitating Mr. O’Leary. His head will then be placed inside the guillotine. You must remember that the device was, and still is, the only official method of execution in France. Personally, I view it as the ultimate death machine. Rulers such as King Louis XVI and his beautiful wife, Queen Marie Antoinette, lost their heads to its razor sharp blade in 1793.”
    Drago paused as he checked the rope’s knot. He nodded with approval. “And we can only wonder, what were those unfortunate royals thinking as they marched to their deaths? Did their entire lives flash before them? Did their regrets burn at their souls—too late to undo?” He paused. “Maestro, a little marching music for Mr. O’Leary.”
    A solemn drum roll ensued. Wide-eyed, Patrick moved behind the frame of the guillotine at Drago’s instruction. A moment later, he was seated straddle-style over its narrow bench. Katherine helped maneuver his head into a nestled position.
    Rose glanced at the blade suspended above him. The way it caught the light sent her stomach into a roil. What was about to happen?
    Common sense told her there was no such thing as real magic. Yet her entire body hummed with fright.
    The crowd remained on edge as a transparent screen descended over the stage, leaving the three people behind it in shadowy outlines. Drago, now garbed in a black executioner’s mask, grasped the rope that governed the rise and fall of the blade. Rose went into full-panic mode. Would Patrick be harmed—or even killed? Should she leap out of her seat and stop the trick?
    The dangerous obsession she’d witnessed in Drago’s eyes made her think he was capable of violence.
    Before she could stand up and protest, Drago leaned over and said something to Patrick. Then, with a wild slicing noise, the blade dropped to meet its cruel ending point. Screams filtered through the crowd as what appeared to be a head rolled off and fell to the floor. The body it had been attached to was gone!
    The buffering screen lifted. Drago strode forward, grasping a head of lettuce. He removed the executioner’s mask, then raised the round object above his head. In response, the crowd exploded in applause.
    “Thank you, ladies and gentleman,” he said, as a sly smile spread across his face. “Are you wondering what happened to our brave Mr. O’Leary? If the usher at portal five will open the door to the lobby, you’ll see that he’s perfectly intact.”
    The usher, looking as surprised as anyone, pushed the door open. In stepped Patrick. Face flushed with rage, he raced forward, holding his neck with one hand “You bastard!” The severed rope hung from his wrist. “How dare you threaten me, then scare me out of my wits!”
    Before anyone had the chance to stop him, Patrick leapt onstage and began pummeling Drago to the ground.
    “Patrick!” Rose bolted out of her seat and charged up the staircase. The two men at center stage were in the middle of a violent brawl—and no one was making a move to stop them. “Somebody get the police!” she called out.
    Falling to her knees, Rose tried to pry Patrick off Drago. But it was no use.
    As the men rolled about with ruthless ferocity, blood began to fly. Rose stepped out