Ivan wheezed. "Okay, okay! Fine! You got me, friend! I will tell you everything! Not just the Garcia boy, I will even tell you about the—"
But his body suddenly twisted into all directions, as if there were strings that pulled at his neck, arms and legs into this disarray. His head snapped back until his neck broke, one of his hands raised crooked to the air until it caused a tear in his armpits, one reached far back until it broke his elbow, and one of his feet went directly to his mouth.
Ivan yowled in pain, and Harker let go of him due to the shock. It all happened so fast.
One moment, he was broken apart like a rag doll, and the next he was whole again. He still had his injuries, yes, and he was crying real tears from it. But they were twisted back in place, and he was pulled back into the stage.
On the red curtains, the looming shadow of another ringmaster came.
It was so massive that only the head with a top hat could be seen at first. Then, it slowly got smaller and smaller until its torso can now be seen, along with its hand holding a cane, and finally its long and well-shaped legs.
Once Harker could see its full figure, he realized it was shaped like a woman.
Sure enough, a ring mistress appeared behind the curtain. But it was just another mannequin.
Though it was the only one which had a painted face. Black paint drew the shape of its eyes and the outline of its nose and its lips. Then, it was filled in with blue for the iris. The cheeks had the same round pink circles that were on Ivan's face, and the lips were painted bright red.
And unlike Ivan, the wooden block that moved its 'mouth' was real.
The ring mistress smiled at Harker, and her 'mouth' moved. But no sound came.
Ivan was still crying, and responded. "I know…. I am sorry, Mother. But he was threatening me. He is brutal, like those policemen. They only know to think with their fists."
"Mother?"
Harker found this more ridiculous than the statement about him only knowing to 'think with his fist'. Not only did he consider this otherworldly plastic beings as his 'people', he also treat one as his fucking Mom.
"Clack, clack, clack." The ring mistress' mouth made that clacking sound as the chip for its mouth moved to emulate human speech.
It was massively inaccurate, of course, since humans do more than just open and close their mouths to speak. But it seemed to be the point of it, to make it even more unsettling.
"Alright…." Ivan stood up, which was surprising given the pain and broken joints he had. "I will send him on his way with one clue as we agreed."
Harker gritted his teeth, and sent his wendigos to attack that 'Mother Mannequin' on the stage. "Oh no, you won't! I'm not leaving here with just one measly clue!"
They moved fast and tore through the ring mistress' pretty face…..
But she just went missing again, turning into nothing but a shadow on the red curtains behind her. The wendigos attacked at nothing, and even the spectators of this 'Show Room' started to disappear.
Only Ivan remained, whimpering from the pain that should have knocked him out or even killed him.
But he seemed to be used to this, or some magic was keeping him from passing out or away. He lumbered unnaturally towards Harker, and took a card from his breast pocket.
"Mother is interested in you now. But you must not disobey her rules. Ever. I give you this one clue, that is all I could do. I could not help more even if I wanted to."
Harker scowled. "Why are you working for these things anyway? Did they promise you something? Power? Immortality, like them?"
Ivan smiled queasily. "My friend, there are things more important in this world than power and immortality. I am sure vain and shallow humans aspire for that, but I do not. You understand."
Harker does, but that doesn't mean that he understands this man's motives entirely. He knew it wasn't power or immortality, so what is it?
Did he just enjoy being enslaved to do these inhuman beings' bidding?
He took the card reluctantly, and did not pursue hurting him any further. This 'Mother' had done it for him, and she might kill Ivan before he got everything he needed.
The card was a tarot card.
It was 'The Lovers' card.
On the back of it was the words scribbled with black ink the same shade as the "Mother's" painted eyelashes. It merely said:
"Seek it."
"Seek who's lover?" Harker frowned.
Ivan just smiled. "The Garcia boy…. There is someone more responsible for his demise than the shadows and the unknown. There is a reason why he was targeted out of everyone else. A vendetta lurks underneath the veil."
Before Harker could ask more, two mannequins came. They were dressed in nurse costumes, and carried a stretcher with them. They picked up Ivan and placed him there, moving in a rush off to who knows where. They vanished from sight, becoming invisible once more.
Harker grumbled, feeling unsatisfied. It wasn't the outcome he wanted, but at least he gained something.
He looked at the card again. It depicted three humanoid figures, but like the mannequins, they were featureless. There was no way of knowing whether they were men or women.
However, what distinguished them was that one of them flew above the two, with wings. It seemed to depict an angel. It had carried a bow and arrow pointing to one of the two people.
In the middle, was a tall cluster of purple flowers.
Harker couldn't make any sense of it, so he thought that he might have better luck having Roland check. He might also have better insight on what Ivan's words meant. He went on his way back into that long dark hallway full of rainbow lights….
And the longer he pondered over 'The Lovers' card, the more he thought about his own lovers. Or the idea of lovers in general.
Lovers can come from two stranger's meeting. And in separation, they could become strangers to each other again. If he was separated for a long time from his lovers, would they become strangers to each other again? After all, people change.
It's even sadder when you think about the idea of reincarnation, and if people who loved each other very much would have to turn into strangers once more. Again and again.
Not just romantic love.
Even the love of a parent to a child. Or from a friend to another. All of it, gone along with death. We were then faced with a path to choose was to reunite in the next life or to never again, living separately. Were we ever able to make that choice? Of which people we keep, and which people we let go of?
Or….
Are we just puppets on a string, made to entertain some master who fooled us into believing the idea of 'choice' ever existed?
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