Simon and Lena uncover something wrong behind the scenes of a strange circus. By the time the curtain rises, the Asteroid has already begun to hide its secret.
The Asteroid Circus rolled into town in the dead of night, as if it had been waiting for the dark to cover its tracks. By morning, the empty square was transformed. A towering tent stood where there had been nothing before, its dark blue and grey stripes rising under a web of coloured lights. Simon and Lena were the first to notice that the circus had not come alone.
At the back of the tent, half hidden behind stacked crates, stood three cages covered with white sheets. They were lined up with such precision that they looked less like equipment and more like a warning. Lena stopped so abruptly that Simon nearly walked into her. From beneath one of the sheets came a soft, metallic laugh. Not a human laugh. Not quite a machine either. It was thin and cold, and it made the hair on Simon’s arms lift.
By noon, the whole town was talking about the circus. There were stories about acrobats who could twist through the air like smoke, musicians who played on instruments no one had ever seen, and creatures brought from places too far away to be named properly. People crowded around the posters, pointing at painted faces and impossible acts. Simon and Lena listened, but the more the town talked, the more determined they became to find out what was being kept out of sight.
They made their plan before sunset. Lena tucked a small torch into her jacket pocket. Simon slipped his notebook into his bag, because he always felt safer when he had something to write in, even if he did not know what he was looking for yet. They would wait until the show began, until the audience was staring at the ring and the lights were fixed on the performers. Then they would move.
When evening came, the tent filled quickly. The air smelled of sawdust, perfume, and electricity. Simon and Lena found their seats near the aisle and watched the ringmaster sweep into the spotlight wearing a black owl mask that hid every part of her face except her mouth. Her voice carried through the tent like a blade. She promised a finale unlike anything the town had ever seen.
The lights dimmed. The crowd hushed. Music rose, low and tense, and a curtain at the far side of the tent began to part. That was when Lena nudged Simon and pointed to the narrow corridor lit by a single bare bulb. No one was looking that way now. No one except them.
They slipped out of their seats and into the shadows behind the arena. Ropes hung from hooks overhead. Old costumes swayed against the wall. The closer they got to the back of the tent, the stronger the metallic laughter became, until it seemed to pulse through the boards beneath their feet.
Then they reached the cage.
The sheet was gone. Inside sat a figure so still that Simon could not tell whether it was a person, a puppet, or something built to imitate both. Its eyes caught the light with a hard, glassy shine. Its mouth opened a fraction, and that same thin laugh drifted out again, louder this time, as if it had been waiting for them.
A floorboard creaked behind them.
Simon turned first. In the narrow strip of light at the end of the corridor, a man in a tall cylinder hat stepped into view and looked straight at them.