Eye of Heaven

by Marjorie M. Liu

  Iris pointed to the smoking bacon and sausages. “I was going to bring you something. Clearly, though, you have an excellent nose.”

  Blue did not know if she was telling the truth about her plan to deliver breakfast, but there was a clear honesty about her gaze that seemed sincere.

  “Thanks,” he said. “You didn’t have to. I’m not completely down on my luck.”

  “I didn’t think you were,” she said tartly, making an open examination of his clothes.

  Her scrutiny made him self-conscious, though Samuel’s footprint at least had been brushed away. Blue moved a little closer, keeping the barbecue between them. “How are your cats? Con and … Boudicca? I thought they looked more alert this morning.”

  “Yes,” Iris said, still studying him. Blue wondered if she could see through the eyes of her cats—and if she could, what that had told her about him. “The tranquilizer wore off in the middle of the night. They were a little unsettled, but it was nothing a few calm words couldn’t take care of.”

  From anyone else it would have been an understatement, perhaps even a lie, but Blue had seen the way the cats responded to Iris, and knowing what he did about her secret heritage he suspected that words were indeed enough. Maybe not even that much.

  “You have a connection with them,” he said carefully. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

  Iris turned and flipped the bacon. “How much do you want?”

  Hello, sore spot. “I only meant it as a compliment.”

  “I get a lot of compliments. How much bacon?”

  Blue hesitated. “Three pieces. Please.”

  Iris grabbed a paper plate and slapped on the bacon, as well as a couple sausages and a pile of eggs. She dug inside a nearby bag for a plastic fork, and then practically threw him his breakfast. Watching her carefully, Blue settled down on the ground and began eating. Iris joined him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Iris picked up a piece of bacon. “Don’t be. I get a lot of people hounding me, wanting things. Outsiders, not the circus. So compliments don’t mean much anymore.”

  “You think it’s all fake. You believe there’s a motive.”

  Iris shrugged. “Why are you here talking to me?”

  “Why are you talking to me? Why feed me, if you think I’m some loser groupie?”

  “You helped me. And you’re … alone.”

  Blue tried not to smile. “I did not know who you were when I helped you last night. And I still don’t know anything about you except for the fact that you get on extraordinarily well with four very wild cats.”

  “And the magical coincidence of your arrival last night?”

  “An accident. All I saw leading up to that moment was a fight, a gun, and a target. I removed the target.”

  “And then you decided to hang around.”

  Blue set down his plate. “Have I asked you for anything, Iris? Other than bacon?”

  “Not yet,” she muttered.

  “Then until I do, cut me some slack.” He shoved eggs into his mouth, and around them mumbled, “Thanks for the meal.”

  “Thanks for saving my life,” she said quietly, and shot him a look that was so distracting he temporarily forgot how to chew and breathe at the same time. He started coughing. Iris shook her head, biting her bottom lip.

  Footsteps, the hard plod of soles on pavement and gravel. Low male voices. Daniel and an older man appeared around the end of Iris’s RV. They stopped when they saw him and Iris sitting together, and Blue struggled to regain control over his lungs. It was easier than he thought it would be. Looking at his brother—my brother—made everything slow down. Made the world narrow in the same way it did when he looked at Iris. Only Daniel inspired less … affection.

  He looks like our father, Blue thought again, still taken by the resemblance. Daniel was the spitting image of Felix Perrineau Senior—as the old man had been, once upon a time. And with luck, Daniel would age exactly the same way. Slowly, and with elegance. Whether or not the personality would reflect the appearance remained to be seen. So far, Blue was not impressed.

  “Iris,” Daniel said. It was difficult for Blue to stay steady in front of that piercing gaze. Too many memories, too many questions—and his reasons for being here did not make things any easier.

  You are here to betray him. You are here to betray your brother.

  Brother. Shit. This was really his brother. Living, breathing, dreaming—

  “Danny.” Iris glanced between him and Blue. “Would you and Pete like something to eat?”

  Pete shook his head, openly studying Blue. “I’m fine, Iris. But I, uh, just received a call from the local police that I think you should know about. Kevin Cray is out on bail. They set the bond at two hundred thousand, and someone coughed up the money early this morning.”

  Iris closed her eyes. Blue set aside his plate.

  “That’s a lot of money,” he said. “Why would a rich kid go to all the trouble of hurting Iris and her cats?”

  Pete frowned. “And you are …?”

  He held out his hand. “You can call me Blue.”

  “Blue.” Pete had a firm grip. “You saved Iris last night, didn’t you?”

  “That’s up for debate,” he replied, glancing sideways at the young woman. Her mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile. Daniel’s frown deepened.

  Pete cleared his throat. “Folks like Kevin Cray are part of an advanced animal activist group. Extremists. Some of them believe keeping house pets goes against the laws of nature, so using big cats in a circus atmosphere makes them see red. Most members are young college types. Good schools, good families, lots of money. Members work in cells, get guidance from the Internet. There’s no real leader—just so-called heroes—which is why law enforcement finds these groups hard to track. They don’t have a structure.”

  “You could be one of them,” Daniel suggested. Easy, simple—it was one of those floating accusations that was impossible to prove and even more difficult to shake. Blue wanted to punch the son of a bitch. To wipe that bellicose look right off his face.

  He glanced at Iris instead. “Going to judge me now?” he asked her grimly.

  “Already did,” she shot back. “You think I would have left you alone with my cats otherwise?”

  Blue fought down a smile. “Based on what I saw last night, I think you could kick my ass and then some if I tried anything to your cats. Speaking of which, do you think there’s any danger of retaliation from Kevin and his friends?”

  “Probably,” Pete said, a furrow digging deep between his eyes. Daniel looked just as concerned—and what a surprise to see that his brother was human, that he was not some cold paternal replica, after all.

  And you didn’t know that already? The fact he ran away didn’t clue you in at all? Maybe, but Blue trusted nothing when it came to Daniel. Not even himself. He looked at Iris. “You won’t be safe here.”

  “You’re a broken record.”

  “And you’re too stubborn for your own good.”

  “Like you aren’t. One save and you’re suddenly an expert on my safety? You don’t even belong here.”

  Blue gritted his teeth. “I’m looking for work, Pete. Who would I talk to about that?”

  Iris went very still, as did Daniel. Pete glanced at them both. “That would be me. I’m the Reilly in Reilly’s Circus.”

  “I’m an electrician,” Blue told him, which was enough of the truth that he did not feel at all guilty about lying. “And I’m very good.”

  “So good you’re looking for work with the circus?” Daniel shook his head. “You dress better than most of the people who come to our shows.”

  “Any law against that?” Blue’s voice slipped into something hard. “Any law against wanting to try another life on for size?”

  Daniel’s jaw tightened. Pete tilted his head, reaching into his shirt pocket for a pipe. “No law against either one of those things. But I’m careful about the people I bring i
nto the family. Not just anyone will do. I hire only the best. Best in skills and best in temperament. Because, son, we’re all outsiders here. We all had to run away from someplace. But in my circus we’re not outsiders to one another, and if we’re runaways, then we ran away to home. My home. This home. So if you join us, then by God, you better have the heart for it, because I promise you won’t last long, otherwise.”

  You don’t have to last long, a tiny voice whispered, but it was a bad thought, a poor tribute to what Pete had just said, which was something that Blue understood all too well.

  “You sound like some of my friends,” he said quietly.

  Pete grunted. “You worked for the circus before?”

  “No. I was a … tech specialist for the navy. Spec ops, mostly.”

  “Ah,” said the old man, as if that answered something for him. His gaze flicked to Iris.

  Blue held out his hand, pressing his advantage. “Give me a chance. Let me do some work for you. Don’t pay me. Just see what I’m capable of.”

  And see if I can protect Iris, Blue thought, knowing that mattered more to Pete than wires and currents. He could see it in the old man’s eyes.

  “Pete,” Daniel said. Iris looked like she wanted to protest, too. But the circus owner shook his head and grabbed Blue’s hand.

  “One day. Just one day. You screw up, I’ll let Iris’s cats have you for dinner.”

  “Meow,” she snapped, leaving them for her trailer. She slammed the door—a gesture made less effective by the fact that it didn’t actually stay shut. The lock was clearly broken, and the hinges …

  “I’m fixing that first,” Blue said.

  “Electrician?” Daniel reminded him. He looked unhappy.

  “Jack-of-all-trades.” Blue said, pasting a smile on his face. It probably looked as fake as he felt, but Pete clapped a hand on his shoulder. The grip was surprisingly strong.

  “Danny will show you where the tools are kept. Introduce you to everyone, too. Hell, the two of you will have to bunk together until we can find you a place to stay.”

  Blue wondered if the old man was a mind reader or just flat-out maniacal. Daniel began to protest. Pete held up his hand. “You’re the newest guy on the block, kid, and when you came here you had to do the exact same thing. Just because you’re getting successful doesn’t mean I cut you any breaks. So go. Now.”

  Much to Blue’s surprise—because obedience was most definitely not the Perrineau way—Daniel clamped his mouth shut and nodded with a sharp jerk of his head that looked more like whiplash than acquiescence. He turned and walked away, spine so straight it looked like he had an arrow up his ass. Blue stared. Pete shrugged.

  “Growing pains,” the old man said, as if that explained everything. Blue was not so optimistic. Daniel was twenty-seven years old, fully formed and of a decidedly unique upbringing. Hell might freeze over before anything could change that.

  Pete, however, gave him a suspiciously serene smile, and walked the short distance to Iris’s door. Rapped his knuckles on the side of it. Iris said something too muffled to hear, and Pete went in.

  “Are you coming?” Daniel called. Blue glanced at him, surprised he was still there. Surprised, too, that he was talking to him of his own free will.

  Blue did not reply. His mouth and brain refused to cooperate, and besides, this was Daniel’s turf, Daniel who was his brother. He did not feel like rocking the boat just for the sheer hell of it. Maybe later, though.

  Walking with him was a very strange experience, though Blue did not make small talk. Daniel did not encourage him, which was fine. Being with him was too surreal—for a variety of reasons—though first and foremost was the fact that Blue was pretty damn certain his brother knew who he was, and it made him uneasy that Daniel had chosen not to say anything. He was an unknown quantity, a variation on the old theme of his father. Blue did not know what to expect.

  Try fear, he told himself. If you had tried to outrace the old man and your long lost brother suddenly showed up on your doorstep, you would do a hell of a lot more than mince words.

  Run or fight. Neither of which had happened yet.

  Daniel’s gaze slid sideways. “I don’t have much time to spend with you. I have to prepare for my show.”

  Blue tried to imagine Felix Perrineau’s son performing in the circus and it made his head hurt. Or maybe that was the bright sun or the old bomb blast still echoing hard in his skull. The air felt too warm. Blue unbuttoned the top of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves.

  All those art degrees, he reminded himself. Juilliard, Harvard … but there was that master’s in education, too. Daniel was a teacher, once upon a time. And now …

  “What do you do?” he asked.

  “I’m an escape artist.”

  How appropriate. Blue almost laughed. “Where did you pick that up?”

  The corner of Daniel’s mouth curved. “Life.”

  Life. Yes. How appropriate. Blue tried not to let anything more than polite curiosity show on his face, unable to decide if he should press—or whether it mattered, even, that he hear the story behind that one word. What was he doing, anyway? If Roland and the others could not find a way around his father, if the threat still held true, then the choice was clear: For his mother and friends, he would have to turn over this man, his brother. Getting to know him better would just make it harder.

  But who are you kidding? You think you can do this and stay cold? You think you can look this man in the eyes and not feel anything?

  Apparently not, because if the guilt in his gut was any indication, he was doing a pretty lousy job of it already.

  “How long have you been here?” Blue asked. They passed two young and impossibly skinny Chinese women—twins—who giggled and smiled when they saw Daniel. He waved at them but did not stop to introduce Blue, who jumped aside as a pair of men racing inside a giant wheel rolled past. A dark-skinned woman leaped and danced above, keeping perfect balance on top of the quickly moving metal surface. Blue tried not to stare.

  Daniel did not spare the acrobats a second glance. “Three months. I arrived just before Reilly got the offer from Miracle—this hotel where we’re performing. I started out at the bottom, working as crew. And then I got a chance to try my own thing.”

  “And you like it?”

  “Wouldn’t give it up for the world,” Daniel said, which was probably a more literal statement than anyone would believe. As Felix Perrineau’s heir, Daniel really could have the world. Maybe just not the one he wanted. Assuming, of course, that he was behaving genuinely and not just blowing smoke.

  Blue heard shouts, commands in Spanish. Men and women, standing a good distance apart, climbing upon shoulders and flinging themselves at one another like living torpedoes. Daniel led Blue right between them—bodies hurtling merrily above their heads—and pointed at a white moving truck. On its side was a painting of a clown, a big top, tigers and lions and a lithe woman with short red hair, arms outstretched, posed for conquest. She looked very familiar.

  Daniel popped open the back doors while Blue studied the painting.

  “Iris?” he asked.

  “Her mother.” Daniel pointed. “There. Tools.”

  Many tools. The entire interior of the truck looked like a portable workshop, complete with overhead lights, workstation, racks filled with gear wisely strapped against the wall. There was even equipment for welding. Everything a man needed to fix a problem under the big top. Or in this case, the auditorium in a Las Vegas hotel.

  “Who’s your current handyman?” Blue asked. “I don’t want to step on any toes.”

  Daniel grunted. “The only reason Pete agreed to a trial run is that our last guy got lured away by Cirque du Soleil. No big deal, though. The Miracle has its own people. You’re not needed here. At all.”

  “Apparently not wanted, either,” Blue remarked. “Especially by you. I’d like to know why. I haven’t done anything.”

  “Not yet,” Daniel replied, folding his ar
ms over his chest. “But I know how it works. I know it’s all about timing and patience and that final cut, and if it were just me, fine. I can handle it, I’ve been expecting it. But if you go after Iris, after the rest of these people—”

  “Stop.” Blue leaned in, looking him hard in the eyes, guilt and anger burning in his gut, frustration building to a scream. “You have no idea how close you are to getting your ass handed to you. No idea at all.”

  “Oh,” Daniel whispered, something equally terribly moving through his gaze. “Oh, you’d be surprised at what I know.”

  “Then tell me,” Blue said, all that rage creeping and dying. “Tell me why I’m here, Danny. Tell me why a man like me would go to all the trouble of playing drifter in some circus on the edge of nothing and nowhere. Tell me why you hate me.”

  Daniel’s jaw tightened. “You want something.”

  Tell him, Blue thought. Tell him now. Give him the truth and let the dice fall. He already knows. Don’t string it along; don’t fuck it up.

  He never got the chance. Daniel backed away, shaking his head. He looked like he was in pain—his mouth tight, his eyes a little too bright—and he turned hard on his heel and walked away. Ran, almost. Blue followed him.

  “Wait,” he called out. His brother did not respond. Hesitating, torn between forcing the issue and just letting him go, Blue glimpsed something large and dark move fast off to their left—furtive, skirting the RVs, sweeping between. A chill raced down Blue’s spine and he reached out with his mind. The city overwhelmed, but he picked up the threads of bioelectricity, the pulse of heartbeats. Three of them, keeping pace with his brother.

  Circus folk, he told himself, but that was not good enough. Not until he was sure. Blue reached for his brother’s arm. Daniel glanced back at him, eyes narrowed. He raised his hand.

  Bodies slammed out of the narrow spaces between the RVs, colliding against the two Perrineaus. Blue was ready; he spun with the impact, turning the force of one assailant’s momentum against him by grabbing a thick arm and throwing the man headfirst into some metal siding. Daniel went down, but only for a moment. He rolled, barely missing the boot clomping toward his chest, and in a move too fast for Blue to see, found his feet and his fists, striking out with two quick punches that sent the man in front of him straight into the ground.