Part 30 (2/2)

”In other words, they're not real people,” Max said. ”They're mystical in nature. So although you may hear a heartbeat if you get close enough-because this seems to be a very talented and thorough sorcerer who would not neglect such important details-there isn't actually a heart. Or a liver or bones or lungs or soft tissue or blood!” He looked at us triumphantly.

Lucky and I looked blankly at each other for a moment.

”So, Max, you're sayin' we gotta whack someone and open him up to see whether he's a person or a doppelgangster? That don't seem like much of a solution.”

”No! No, nothing so extreme. Don't you see?” Max said. ”Doppelgangsters don't have blood. They don't bleed!”

”So we gotta stab stab someone we suspect?” Lucky guessed. someone we suspect?” Lucky guessed.

”No,” Max said. ”We just need to, oh, p.r.i.c.k him with a needle, for example.”

”Oh! I get it now,” I said. ”We only need to do enough damage to see whether someone bleeds like a normal human being?”

”Exactly!” Max said. ”If you p.r.i.c.k someone's finger with suitable emphasis, and there's no sign whatsoever of blood, you've just found a doppelgangster.”

”And once we find one,” I said, ”how do we, uh, neutralize it?”

”Oh, that's easy. We simply decapitate it.”

”What?”

Max added, ”From now on, we should keep large bladed weapons handy at all times for this purpose.”

”Max!”

”It won't be like human decapitation, my dear,” he said rea.s.suringly. ”Remember, doppelgangsters don't bleed or have any connective tissue.”

”That's not the point!” I rubbed my hand over my face. ”At least, it's not the main main point. If we're going to cut off someone's head, we'd better be d.a.m.n sure the individual in question really point. If we're going to cut off someone's head, we'd better be d.a.m.n sure the individual in question really is is a doppelgangster!” a doppelgangster!”

”Oh, yes,” Max agreed. ”Yes, indeed.”

”d.a.m.n sure, Max!” sure, Max!”

He nodded and patted my hand. ”That's why it's so important to p.r.i.c.k someone and check for blood before you attempt decapitation, Esther.”

”I can't decapitate someone!” I said, aghast. can't decapitate someone!” I said, aghast.

”Strictly speaking, you won't be decapitating someone ,” Max said, ”but rather some ,” Max said, ”but rather something.”

”Either way, I can't do it,” I insisted.

”Don't worry about it, kid. I'll take care of it. I'm used to it.” Lucky added to Max, ”It's not something a young lady should do.”

”Perhaps you're right,” Max said.

”But we're all all gonna have to learn to identify doppelgangsters,” Lucky said firmly. gonna have to learn to identify doppelgangsters,” Lucky said firmly.

Feeling rather frazzled, I said, ”Maybe we should get a test kit for diabetics. They have to p.r.i.c.k themselves enough to bleed, don't they?”

”I've always got a couple of knives on me. For backup,” Lucky said, reaching into one of his pockets. ”I'll give you one. That'll do the job better than a needle.”

”I don't think I want a knife,” I said doubtfully.

”There's three guys dead, and we got no other way of identifying these creatures.”

”Okay, I'll take a knife,” I said. ”You have a way of putting things into perspective.”

”Here, have this one. It's small, a good size for a woman.” He gave me a switchblade that seemed like some sort of stealth weapon. The curved blade was a dull gray color and barely two inches long. ”You'd better start by using it on me.”

”What?” I blurted.

”I feel perfectly normal,” Lucky said. ”But we've already figured out that every doppelgangster thinks it's for real. So before we do anything else, we better make sure n.o.body here is one of them things.”

”Does that mean you're going to cut me? me?” I asked anxiously.

”Yep. Don't worry, I'm an expert, you won't feel a thing.” He offered me his hand, palm up. ”But since only wiseguys have been duplicated so far, I'm the most likely ringer in the room. So go ahead and make sure I really am who I think I am.”

Grasping the little knife, I took Lucky's hand in mine, brought the sharp, dull-colored blade close to his flesh . . . and then said, ”I can't do it.”

”Go on,” he urged.

”I've never cut someone. I don't know how.”

”It's just like cuttin' meat.”

”Oh, G.o.d,” I said, revolted. ”That didn't help.”

”Take the point of the knife and poke my finger.”

I tried again, then shook my head. ”I can't do it.”

”I can see you really are gonna have trouble decapitating an ephemeral mystical creature,” he said. ”Come on, just do it, kid. Hey, I got an idea. Think about Salvatore Fatico.”

That helped. I poked the blade into his finger.

”Ouch!” Lucky said. ”Not so hard!”

”Oops! Sorry.”

”I'll get a bandage,” Max said.

While Max fetched something for the bleeding, Lucky looked at his wounded finger. ”Well, at least we know I ain't a doppelgangster.”

Since I obviously needed practice, the two men insisted I had to be the one to test Max, too. I didn't cut him hard enough the first time, which led to a tense moment among us all before I tried again and drew blood. Then Lucky tested me. Despite his guarantee, I felt the cut. But I only bled a little.

”Okay, so that's done,” Lucky said matter-of-factly. ”We're all the original versions of ourselves. Good to know.”

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