House of Mirrors (21 page)

Jonah noted the absence of Parinsky in the group. It was easy to believe that the hard-eyed man who’d shown him nothing but scorn had something to do with the destruction. But seconds later, Parinsky arrived along with Rafe, dispelling Jonah’s notions about his guilt.

“You all right?” Rafe asked gruffly before marching past Jonah to examine the damage. Curses flowed like water from the wagon along with the sound of glass crunching beneath Rafe’s boots.

Rafe emerged from the House of Mirrors looking like the devil himself with his blazing eyes and black-bearded face. “That’s it,” he snapped, leaping from the wagon and landing on the ground with both feet. “Nothing to salvage. Might as well strip the wagon and use it for storage. What I want to know”—he glared around at the assembly that had grown to include almost everyone in the carnival—“is who the hell is sabotaging our show and why?”

“It could’ve been some locals,” Jamie suggested. “Kids daring each other.”

Jonah shook his head. “That was no kid. The guy knocked me over before he ran away.”

“Face it, Talbot,” Parinsky said, “you’re not exactly a muscleman, not too hard to tip over. A husky farm boy of sixteen would seem like Dimitri to you.”

“Orcullys would be my first guest.” Henry weighed a handful of glass shards he’d scooped up inside the wagon. “All these weird accidents that’ve been happening…maybe they’re no accident. Orcullys want us out of this territory. They want to claim it for their own.”

“The idea’s not so crazy.” Claudia stood at the fringe of the group wearing a flower-bedecked wrapper that made her look like an entire garden. Even in the dim lantern light the colors glowed. “They’re trying to put us out of business.”

Jonah listened as other voices joined in and murmurs of enemies in the night gathered strength and volume. They might very well be right, but how quickly a group became a mob when there was a common enemy to fear.

“But where’d the guy go?” Mindy’s voice cut across the voices. “Did he just disappear into the night, walk through the woods, or ride a horse down the road? The lost props, the torn canvas, the broken axle, maybe even Lancelot dying—all that has happened while we been on the road. If a stranger was doing it, we’d have seen him.”

“You sayin’ it might be one of us?” Dimitri stared around the group as if he could detect the conspirator, drag him off, and pummel him.

“Hold it, now.” Rafe held up his hands, and his deep voice commanded silence. “We don’t know what’s happened or who’s done it. Let’s not leap to conclusions.”

Parinsky snorted and spit a wad of phlegm on the ground. “At least everyone else here is using their heads for figuring out what’s happening instead of thinking with their dick.”

Claudia, Jamie, and Ellen Fisher gasped in surprise at the coarse statement coming from Parinsky, and Henry spoke up. “Hey, now. Watch your tongue.”

“My pardon to the ladies, but it’s the truth, isn’t it? The carnival’s going to rack and ruin, and our great leader here’s too cock-eyed to see it.”

Jonah’s heart thundered as Parinsky skated on the fragile ice that covered Jonah and Rafe’s dark river of passion. If the man spoke any more bluntly, it wouldn’t take much figuring what he was alluding to. Clearly Sam hadn’t been the only one who’d seen the truth about them. When he’d told Jonah to quit watching Rafe all the time, Jonah should’ve listened.

“Enough,” Rafe barked. “Trust me, I’m well aware the show’s hit some hard times. And I promise to get to the bottom of these attacks—if indeed they’re all related. But for right now, I won’t abide any dissension among us. If we’re to survive, we cannot start mistrusting one another. We must pull together.”

It was a rousing speech, confidently delivered, but Jonah thought he saw uncertainty in Rafe’s eyes. And if he sensed it, likely some of the others did too. Rafe was in an unenviable position, trying to keep order after a flock of chickens recognized there was a fox in their coop.

“It’s late,” Rafe continued. “We’ve all had a long, hard day. We’re tired and grieving for Sam and in no condition to think rationally. I suggest everyone go to sleep, and in the morning we’ll try to make sense of this.”

There was some grumbling, and Jonah overheard more whispered questions and accusations flying back and forth, but the people began to disperse when Rafe turned to lock up the House of Mirrors.

“You heard the man,” Mindy called, ever the staunch supporter of their leader even though she didn’t always agree with him. “Get on, now.”

“Talbot.” Rafe beckoned him over. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”

“Not much, I’m afraid. A dark figure, not too big, bashing at the mirrors with some kind of club. I grabbed his arm, but he whirled around and pushed me. I lost my balance, slipped on some glass, and fell. By the time I got up, he was gone.”

“Close your eyes,” Rafe commanded. “Think about any details. A scent or the texture of the cloth when you grabbed his sleeve. Anything at all.”

Jonah obeyed, but the encounter had been so fleeting, it was like a half-forgotten dream. “Smooth fabric when I grabbed the arm, but he shook me off before I got a good grip.” He opened his eyes. “Funny thing, though. He could’ve hit me with the club, but he didn’t.”

“Which adds weight to the theory that it’s someone from the carnival causing mischief—maybe on behalf of the Orcullys—but not wanting to really hurt anyone,” Rafe mused.

Parinksy was still standing nearby, and he shoved into their conversation. “All the more reason you should question everyone tonight. Have it out now before whoever it is takes off.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad thing. If someone’s missing in the morning, the question’s answered and the problem’s solved. Do we really want to tar and feather one of our own?” Rafe cast a look at Parinsky. “Never mind. I forgot who I’m talking to.”

Rafe walked off without another word. He didn’t add so much as an “I’m glad you’re all right” to Jonah.

Jonah tried to stifle his hurt feelings. Rafe couldn’t show any special concern for him, especially not with the annoying Parinsky on the verge of exposing them.

The magician turned to Jonah. “Funny how you happened to be on hand right when this happened, yet you didn’t get hurt at all. A fellow might think you had something to do with it. Not Grim, of course—he’d never question his pet. He’s lost his shrewdness, but not all of us are so taken in by that choirboy face. Trouble started soon after you got here, and I don’t believe in coincidence.”

Jonah wanted to point out that there wasn’t a club on him and he hadn’t had time to stash it, but he sealed his mouth shut. Parinsky wouldn’t hear anything he said. He’d taken a dislike to him, and that’s all there was to it. The big man stalked away, leaving Jonah alone by the shattered House of Mirrors.

He closed his eyes and breathed in a draft of air that smelled faintly of stale popcorn and burned sugar. Then he trudged toward Sam’s wagon. It was all he could do to put one foot before the other. He climbed the steps and closed the door behind him. He cast a long look at Sam’s bed, stripped of its sheets, the striped mattress a silent testimony to loss.

Jonah went to the other bunk in the room, the one Little Alan the midget had used before he did a bunk, as Mindy would call it, and left the show. It was too short to accommodate him, but he took the blanket and pillow off the bed and lay down on the floor with them.

He closed his eyes, sure he’d fall instantly asleep, but images darted through his mind like kaleidoscope glass refusing to settle into one place. He saw Sam’s pale face, the Nolan family’s primitive home, the fresh red earth mounded over Sam’s coffin, the faces of the people who’d watched the show that night, the sparkling bits of mirror strewn over the floor like diamonds, and Rafe. His thoughts always came back to Rafe.

Even now he couldn’t help hoping there’d be a knock on the door, that Rafe would come to him here to welcome him back with more than a polite nod. He longed for those arms to be wrapped around him, for that long, lean body to be stretched out beside him here on the floor. He opened his eyes and stared at the fuzzy bits in the blackness. As a child, he’d imagined those moving particles were the air itself and that he was special because he could see what others couldn’t. Later, he’d decided the moving particles were simply dust.

A soft knock at the door jolted him from his dreamy reverie. Jonah leaped to his feet and went to open it.

Rafe stood outside.

Jonah opened the door wider, inviting him in. “I-I’m not busy. I’m writing a note to my mother.”

The other man smiled briefly. “Good for you.” He backed away as if regretting the smile. “Not tonight. It’s probably best we don’t see each other for a while. We-we haven’t been as secretive as we’d thought, and this is no time for me to be seen playing favorites. I’m sorry.” He paused then added, his voice a little husky, “I’m glad you’re all right and that you made it back from the Nolans’ place in time for them to see the funeral. It was a good thing you did.”

Rafe’s tone was reserved. His polite approval was not the warm and heartfelt homecoming Jonah had hoped for. Once again, he’d expected too much from a man who obviously had nothing more to give him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, and I’ll have to question you as I do all the others,” Rafe warned him.

“I understand. Of course,” Jonah replied. “Well, good night, then.”

Rafe had already turned and was walking away. There was nothing to do but close the door.

Jonah returned to his hard bed on the floor and buried his face in the flimsy pillow. God, how he hated himself for crying and for caring too much. He wore his heart on his sleeve, then wondered why it kept getting plucked off, cast down, and stomped on. What a fool he was.

Given the situation, Rafe was being completely logical to suggest they cool their affair for a while. He hadn’t said he wanted to permanently end it. Jonah was simply exhausted and feeling too emotional to see clearly. Things would be better in the morning, when the sun rose on a fresh, new day.

Chapter Twenty

The destruction of the House of Mirrors looked even worse by the light of day. Rafe walked through a maze of mostly empty frames, his boots crunching shards of glass, and felt sick, not only for the loss of the attraction that he’d designed, but for the loss of trust in those he’d considered practically family.

He should’ve known better.

The carnival was made up of a group of people thrown together by unusual circumstances. The constant traveling forced them into proximity and fostered a sense of camaraderie, but in the end they were only people who happened to work together. They were not a family.

Unfortunately Rafe’s real family lay across an ocean and required his presence now. It was time to give up this false world he’d created for himself, go home, and take up his responsibilities. Why had he thought he could wait until the end of the season? With the show in shambles, he might as well announce his plans sooner rather than later. If Parinsky was so certain he could fix things, let him take over the reins. Hell, Rafe wouldn’t sell the show to him—he’d simply give it to him. If the carnival ultimately folded, the refugees could find their way to the Orcullys or other outfits where their acts would be in demand.

Rafe thought of the disappointment in Jonah’s face last night when he’d refused his offer to come in. His chest tightened, and a sense of loss washed over him. The season might not be quite finished, but summer was done for Rafe. No more holiday from his real life. No more postponing the inevitable. He would say good-bye to the preacher’s son and never see his bright eyes again. Nor feel his caresses, his kisses, his hot body pressed close as if the two of them would melt together. And Jesus God, he’d given himself a hard-on by allowing such thoughts.

No more! There would be no attempt at one last fuck. It might assuage Rafe’s lust, but it would do Jonah no favors. He was going to be hurt by the end of this summer, and Rafe should never have led him along this far.

“So, what do you think, boss?” Crooked Pete’s voice startled him, and Rafe turned from the wreckage to face the bow-backed man. “Worth starting over?”

“No. Sweep it clean. Stack the frames somewhere. We might be able to use them in some way. And then go ahead and store whatever you need to in here.”

“Could sell one of the wagons,” Pete said. “With the lion gone and now this, we’ve got more than we need. Best bet is to convert this into our lead wagon and get rid of the old one.”

“Do whatever you think’s best. It doesn’t matter.”
It’ll all be over soon, anyway.

“Breaks your heart, doesn’t it?” Pete squinted at him. “I know you put some work into this. It held together even driving over bumpy roads, and the people seemed to like the illusion.”

Rafe shrugged. “Everything comes to an end. You know that better than anyone, Pete.”

“That I do.” He smiled. “These old bones aren’t going to be able to take many more seasons on the road, I can tell you that. Maybe I’ll just stay down in Florida after this winter.”

“And what would you do with yourself?” Rafe asked. “The show’s in your blood. I don’t think you could live without it.”

Pete started pushing the broom he’d brought along through the rubble. “Then I guess I’ll die. Nobody lives forever, son. That’s why you got to make the most of the time you got.” He glanced at Rafe with a sharp look in his rheumy eyes. “And don’t let people you care about slip away, or you’ll end up like me—all alone.”

Wonderful. Even Crooked Pete knew his business and was offering unwanted advice.

“That Jamie girl’s wild about you, you know,” Pete continued. “You should do somethin’ about that.”

Or maybe his vision was clouded after all.

Rafe nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He left the wagon and started making his rounds, interviewing one person after another about where they’d been last night after the carnival closed and who’d they’d been with. Most of the stories matched up, and he learned some interesting facts.

For one thing, it appeared Dimitri had given up on mooning after Miss Jamie, at least temporarily, because he’d been spending time in Claudia’s wagon. “Sharing a late night meal,” they’d both said. But it didn’t escape Rafe’s notice that Claudia had been wearing slippers and a robe last night. An interesting couple.