The Nightingale Circus
me
everything!”
    “I’ve been traveling.” Serioja pushed aside
the pillow that Anya had used to keep her feet up, and he settled
down.
    Anya offered him a cup of tea before picking
up hers. “Where to?”
    Masha gave them one last inquisitive look and
left them alone.
    “Oh, I’ve been all over the place,” Serioja
said in his slow, soothing voice. “I found a job with a circus …
you might have heard.”
    “I did, but I couldn’t believe it. A circus,
really?” Anya’s curiosity was piqued. After living secluded in this
mausoleum of a house for the past few months, she strived for some
juicy gossip. “Oh, I don't know what to ask … tell me
everything.”
    “Yes, a circus. It’s called The Nightingale
Circus, and it’s in town right now.” He held the cup with both
hands but didn’t drink, tea forgotten. “I get to do what I still
can, and the people aren’t that bad so…” He raised his shoulders.
“It’s far from what we thought our future would be, but it works
for me.”
    Of course it did. Unlike Anya, Serioja had
never aimed high. If he could do his routines, he was happy. “Well,
you’re doing better than me…” She laughed at her own predicament.
The laugh brought on the cough, and she had to gulp half a cup to
make it stop. When she coughed again, the handkerchief filled with
blood, but at least the air was getting into her lungs. “Uh.” She
balled the square of flimsy monogrammed fabric in her fist to make
the sight of the blood disappear. “Sorry. You were saying?”
    Serioja took both of her hands in his. “Anya,
what happened to you?”
    “I’m sure you heard the rumors … I caught a
bug while we were with the company in India, but I was too proud to
quit the tour and I postponed the treatment.” Her eyes rolled
dramatically. “By the time we got back, it was too late. So now I’m
waiting for a heart and lung transplant, which won’t happen any
time soon since the Russian Federation is in chaos and no one cares
about the arts anymore. Why would they? Everything can be solved
with prosthetics these days. Soon, they’ll have androids replacing
us on the stage, too.”
    Her bitter words made a corner of Serioja’s
mouth twitch. “Yes, that’s what I heard,” he murmured, eyes
downcast, still holding her hands. When he looked up, his eyes
glistened. “That’s why I came. I think I can help…”
    “Other than whacking someone for me, I don’t
see how you could do that.”
    “My boss can.”
    “Your boss?” Anya arched an eyebrow. “I
thought you worked at the circus, not for an organ trafficking
mob.”
    “Big Dino has a side business that deals with
designing and repairing prosthetics. Well, repairing mostly since
we don’t stay in one town long enough to make new ones…”
    “Prosthetics can’t fix me, Serioja. They
can’t replace full organs.” Anya retrieved her hand from his and
patted his arm, smiling. “But I appreciate the thought.” Poor
darling, his brain had to be totally smashed to make such erroneous
assumptions.
    “Sure they can.”
    Anya pulled back with a gasp. “You’re not
suggesting that I—”
    Serioja held her gaze with his innocent,
placid eyes that once had been full of life. “The only organ they
can’t replace is the brain.”
    At the mention of his brain, Anya’s composure
broke and she threw her arms around Serioja, holding him tight.
“Oh, darling…”
    He returned the hug, supporting her
feather-light weight with ease as she leaned on him. “All I’m
saying is…” he murmured into her hair, “you should meet with him,
see what he has to say.”
    Anya pulled back enough to be able to look
into his eyes. “What can he say, Serioja?” She winced at the
whining tone of her voice and bit her lip to stop trembling. She
didn’t dare hope.
    “He can tell you what’s still left to be
done.” Serioja brushed a lock of brown hair away from her cheek
with a reminiscence of a distant, familiar gesture. “You only

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