“Yeah,” Blue said. One thing at a time. Too much has happened for anything else. Just take your moments.
Like this one, with Iris alive in his arms. With his brother here. With his friends.
That was all he needed. Everything else was a luxury.
The air was hot and wet. He could hear sirens and screams and honking horns beyond the confines of the small courtyard. A banyan tree, with its fig roots crossed and fused into a lattice, gave them shade, and after a time, a slender Indonesian woman emerged from the house beside them with bottles of water. The earth occasionally rolled.
Artur and Fred returned. They’d been out scouting, taking the measure of damage at the facility. Blue thought a psychometrist and a telepath made a good team, covered all the bases.
“Santoso?” Artur asked, his skin black with ash and dust.
“I killed him,” Iris said, touching the blood flecks at the corner of her mouth. The Russian nodded, and did not say another word. Not that night, and not the next when they boarded Fred’s plane and left behind the wreckage of Jakarta.
But when he asked Fred to divert the plane to San Francisco, they did as he asked. When he left to go to the hospital, all of them followed.
And waited.
It was an odd thing, Iris thought, being part of a family. Not just circus family, not just blood family—which had always consisted of only herself and her mother—but something bigger, which was just as tight, just as dependable, and which seemed so much at odds with the life she had built for herself. The only life she had known until mere days ago. The only life she had thought she would ever know, because she was too afraid to have anything more.
Permission to love, she thought. Thanks, Daniel. Iris sat in a soft chair beside Blue, just outside Elena Loginov’s private room at the UCSF Medical Center. They had been there for an hour, taking over for Dean and his wife, Miri, and before that others: men and women who seemed normal enough, but who looked into Iris’s golden eyes with knowing smiles, as though her secret—so carefully guarded—was written in a halo above her head. She wondered what her mother would say about it—if Iris ever saw her again.
Iris did not like the smell of hospitals, though in all honesty, this was the first time she had ever been in one. It reminded her of Santoso’s lab. Bleach, fear, death and blood; she felt immensely sorry for anyone forced to linger; worse, for the individual compelled to die in such a terrible place.
The door to Elena’s room stood partially open. Artur had gone in two days ago, and never come out. His friends brought food, took away the trash, tried not to comment on the occasional odor. Artur said nothing to any of them. He simply stared at the pale delicate woman lying on the bed, her body covered with tubes.
Blue kept fidgeting. Iris placed her hand on his knee, and he grimaced. “Sorry. I feel like I shouldn’t be here.”
“You didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“That’s only part of the reason. It’s the electrical equipment, Iris. I can’t relax. All of this, everything that’s happened, has been hard on my mind. I need to … get away.”
“You’re not just talking about the hospital, are you?”
“No.” He took her hand, tucking it against his elbow. “Maybe you’d like to come with me. We could bring the cats. I think they’d like Colorado. It’s … quiet there.”
He sounded tentative, as though he was not entirely certain of her response. Iris bit back a smile. “You think I’d say no?”
“I think you’ve had a rough couple of days. You might have second thoughts.”
“And if I did?”
He shot her a dark look. “You’re the only woman I’ll ever want, Iris. You think I’ll let you walk away without a fight?”
“They why did you ask?”
“Because I love you,” he said, his voice low, gruff. Iris did not try and hide her smile. She had little time for anything else, though; a moment later a chill rushed over her body, the scent of spring, something wild and rich. It made her head swim, as did the unfamiliar male voice that suddenly emerged from the room. Iris and Blue looked at each other. There was not any way someone could have walked past them, and there was no other entrance to the room.
“Rictor,” they heard Artur say, in a voice so close to dead it was a wonder he still breathed. “I did not expect you to come. Not now.”
“I had reasons for taking my time,” said that low rumbling voice. “I wanted to see what you would do. How far you would go for her.”
“I suppose I failed, then.”
“No, you did not. Which for my purposes is a shame. If you had succeeded in your quest to acquire a new heart, Elena would have recovered—but she would have hated you for it, would never have forgiven you for saving her life by taking another.”
“And so she will die for that? Morals?”
“Don’t be an ass. You know better than to question her character. Besides, it’s a moot point. I can heal her.”
Iris heard a chair scrape back. “Then why have you waited? All this time she has been wasting away—”
“You don’t understand, Artur. You never will. Just … shut up and let me work.”
Blue squeezed Iris’s hand. She did not know Elena; she barely knew Artur, and she sure as hell did not know what was going on, but she waited with the same breathless anticipation because it mattered to Blue—and, she realized, to herself. This was his family, and now it was hers. Maybe. She was willing to give it a go, anyway.
Moments passed, and Artur cried out, hoarse. “Rictor. I can feel her inside my mind again.”
“Her heart is good as new. She’ll wake up soon.”
Hesitation, a breathless silence. “Would you like to stay and … greet her?”
“And say what? That I played a game with her life, only to see if I could make her hate you? No,” Rictor said softly. “I lied to her, Artur. Out in those woods when we escaped from the Consortium. I lied when I said I didn’t love her.”
“I know,” Artur said. “A man does not look at a woman the way you look at Elena and not love her.”
“Caught.”
“Again.”
Iris heard a deep long sigh. “You are lucky to have a mortal life, Artur Loginov. So blessed it makes me sick.”
And that was all Iris and Blue heard, until minutes later Elena croaked her husband’s name, an event followed by several low, choking sobs. Blue looked like he might have a nervous breakdown himself.
Iris very carefully closed the door. She and Blue walked away.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The official resting place of Felix Perrineau Senior was in Paris, France. But his body, three days after his real and final death, found its last home in a humble wooden coffin lowered by his sons into a dirt grave surrounded by old growth cedar, ferns, and moss. The funeral was small. Only five people attended. They all held umbrellas, but not one of them was in use. No one seemed to mind the rain. The ranch house was only a short walk away, and quiet; Perrineau’s old security force had been dismissed. Neither Blue nor Daniel saw much use for them—if their enemies truly wanted their deaths, those men with guns would be as helpful as dolls playing dress-up.
“He died too soon,” Daniel said, taking off his glasses when the lenses became too wet to see through. “I never thought I would say that.”
Blue agreed, but he was not his brother; he could not bring himself to say the words. All he could do was look at the box in the hole, inhale the rich loam of a forest lost in rain, and think, This is what it comes down to. This is the culmination, the end, and all that matters is what you lived for, because afterwards, you’re just a memory, good or bad. An image in the eye of heaven.
Of course, not even his father could claim that much. No black and white for the old man. Blue did not know what to make of him. Not anymore. A monster, yes. A facilitator of terrible things. Never any doubt of that. But as a father … a father who had given up his life for his sons …
Iris squeezed his hand. She
stood beside him, tall and slender, her red hair gleaming like roses in sunlight. Blue’s mother stood on his other side, Brandon just behind her. Brandon did not look particularly sad. Merely … contemplative.
“I think now would be a good time for the truth,” Blue said to his mother, looking past her at the man who was the spitting image of his dead father. “Who are you?”
Brandon tore his gaze from the coffin, and studied Blue’s face for one long moment. “I am your family. I was not his family, but I am yours. If you want me.”
Blue hung his head. “A simple answer would have sufficed.”
“Between Felix and I, life was never simple.”
Blue glanced at Daniel. His brother shrugged. Mahasti, finally stirring from her own deep contemplation of the coffin, said, “Brandon was once a very dear friend to me. Until recently, however, I thought he was dead. Your father’s doing.” She shot Blue a hard look. “He and I are engaged. Brandon will be your family regardless of your wishes. I suggest you accommodate him.”
Iris coughed; a quick glance revealed her biting her bottom lip. Blue could not muster quite the same level of amusement. Daniel looked startled as well.
The rain began to come down harder. Iris leaned into him and Blue slid his arm around her waist. He kicked dirt into the grave, where it thudded on top of the simple pine surface of his father’s coffin.
“Rest in peace,” he said. “Burn in Hell.”
There was paperwork to sign, business matters to attend to, all manner of staff to coordinate and take care of—the various sundries of inheriting a multi-billion dollar business, legal and criminal—but the day after they planted the old man in the ground, Blue, Iris, and Daniel fled south to Las Vegas. By mutual agreement, Mahasti and Brandon were left behind, in charge. Blue thought it very brave of Daniel, trusting strangers.
“Not really,” Daniel confessed, when Blue said as much. “I’m just desperate to get out of there. And, to be honest, I don’t really want his money.”
Blue understood. Their father’s wealth was tied up in blood, much of which he had firsthand knowledge, and his only answer to all that suffering was a tenuous plan to give away his share, every last penny. Use all that power, all those ties bought by cold hard cash, to reverse as much of his father’s dark legacy as he could. The Good Samaritan born again. The irony was not lost on him.
Reilly’s Circus camp was as busy as Blue remembered, but this time there was a part of him that almost welcomed the place as home. Certainly, a great shout went up as soon as Daniel and Iris were spotted. Samuel came running, grabbing both of them off their feet in giant hugs that sent them swinging. He did the same to Blue with only a little less enthusiasm.
“This is a good day,” Samuel said to Iris. “We were worried.”
“Very,” said Pete, walking up behind them. Dark circles surrounded his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, then held out his arms. Iris fell into his embrace with a sigh.
The entire camp seemed to descend upon them; Iris gave Blue a helpless wave of her hands before being sucked deeper into the crowd. Blue, amused, watched her. He knew all she wanted to do was find Petro and the others, but this was just as important.
“She’s happier now,” Daniel said, sidling close. Blue wondered how he had escaped the mob. “Look at her, Blue. She’s hugging them.”
Not big hugs, or long hugs, but the effort was there. Light pats on backs, an arm briefly curled around a neck—highly demonstrative for a woman who had avoided all human contact only days previously. Blue could tell by the look on her face that it still made her uncomfortable. He understood. He was not the highly demonstrative type, either. Except with her.
“What about us?” Blue asked him. “You happy, Daniel?”
His brother was silent for a long time. “I don’t know. Maybe. I still have a lot of … issues I never worked out. I wish I had been able to.”
“Yeah. I was pissed off when our father was alive, and now I’m pissed off he died. I just can’t be pleased.” Blue glanced at him. “But if you have any problems with me …”
“I do. Not because I think you deserve them, but because …” Daniel hesitated. “Did Iris tell you about the pictures? I wasn’t joking, Blue. I don’t know where he got them, but they were always around. In the beginning, when I was little, he called you his first son, his real Felix. Not born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but someone who would make his own fortune, because he was tough, strong, smart. Not like me. Not like the little boy who knew his daddy, who wanted things from him. Even if all I wanted was a little respect. I swear to God, he made me feel guilty for being alive. And he did all he could to isolate me. To mold me into what he wanted.”
Blue had trouble answering him; he was still trying to absorb the fact that his father had actually bragged about him, albeit for a monstrous purpose. “It didn’t take. You fought him off. I’d like to know how. You mentioned your mother.”
“She was stronger than he ever gave her credit for being. And his employees liked me more than they liked him.” Daniel shook his head, sighing. “I don’t know, Blue. I guess I was as stubborn as he was. The more he pushed, the more I pushed back, until all I wanted was to be nothing like him.” He smiled bitterly. “Did you know he killed my dog?”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. A little stray I named …” Daniel sucked in his breath. “Sorry. I’m not going to talk about it. Now’s not the time.”
“Whenever you want,” Blue said, and then, quieter, “Did he know about your … other abilities? Your telekinesis?”
“You say it so matter-of-factly.” Daniel snorted. “No. Maybe, yes. I’m not sure, Blue. A lot of things got broken inside the house, though, when I was growing up. We replaced a lot of windows.”
“And you’re not scared anyone else will find out?”
Daniel sighed. “The one thing I learned from our father is that if you fear something, or someone, that object or person will have power over you. So I stopped being afraid. Or at least, I learned how to control it. I get up on that stage every night because I really don’t give a shit. After everything else that’s happened in my life? All I want is to be happy. To forget all of that. To forget me. And this does it for me.”
The two men stood for a while longer before Daniel excused himself, slipping away into the crowd to mingle with his friends. Blue did not join him. He felt a bit like an outsider, but that was fine. He had no intention of going away; he would grow on these people eventually.
He finally ambled off, hefting the duffel with both his and Iris’s things. As he walked to her RV, his cell phone rang. It was Fred.
“I wanted to say thanks,” the agent said. “You helped.”
“I suppose we did,” Blue replied, a bit underwhelmed by this lackluster expression of gratitude.
Fred sighed. “Okay, you saved our asses. That better?”
“I can live with it. I could live with it even better if you had some deep dark secrets to spill about the people you work for.”
“Sorry. I will tell you this, though. Unlike Santoso and Perrineau, and all the other casualties at the facility who were recovered and sent home in body bags, there’s still one person missing from the compiled list, and he can’t be found anywhere. You want to guess who?”
“Broker,” Blue said, a good dose of dread coursing through him.
“Yup. And I don’t know about you, but in this line of work, I don’t trust people to stay dead unless I have their corpse right in front me.”
Unfortunately, Blue felt the same. “What about the Consortium? Any more information on who their leader is?”
“No, and if your father knew, he took it with him to his grave.”
Blue thought about the old man, replayed his death in his head. “Did you know he was working for the Consortium?”
“I wish. If we had, we would have taken a different tack.”
“There’s always Artur. We could ask him in to take some readings of his belongings.”
Fred did not say anything for very a long time. “Are you proposing a collaboration? That we … work together?”
“I think you’d have to take that up with Roland.”
Fred grunted. “How’s Daniel?”
“Confused. Just like me.”
“Right,” Fred said. “Confused and filthy stinking rich. Billions await you and your brother, most of it tied up in various criminal organizations. You be careful, Blue Perrineau. And give my best to Iris. Tell her … it was fun.”
“Yeah. A real barrel of laughs.”
“Better than crying,” Fred said, and hung up the phone.
Late that night, Iris lay in bed with her lions. Petro and Lila needed therapy, and she was happy to oblige. Blue was just outside the RV, sitting on the steps with his brother. Daniel had stopped by to say goodnight, a tiny gesture that had become a two-hour conversation.
Iris eavesdropped shamelessly, feeling inside herself a rare contentment as she listened to the two men discuss their childhoods, and their father. The more she heard about the old man, the more intensely she disliked him—except, every now and then she remembered his face as he stared down upon her in Santoso’s lab, and in her memories she always thought she saw compassion. Brief, but undeniable.
The mind could play such tricks.
She heard Daniel say goodnight. He had an early morning meeting with the hotel executives. According to Pete, his fire act had gotten good press; the suits wanted him to have his own show. With Iris. An ironic pairing, to say the least. She was not sure how she felt about working for the Miracle, given what little she knew about its owners. It felt … wrong, somehow.
The stairs creaked; Iris got ready to move Petro and Lila out. Before Blue opened the door, though, she heard another sound, and felt inside her heart a sharp tug, like ropes around glass; close to shattering.
“Serena,” Blue said.
“Mr. Perrineau. Or perhaps, just Blue.”
“Just Blue is fine,” he said, and then, in a softer voice: “The eye patch suits you.”
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