Page 29 of Her Cruel Dahlias

Cricket straightened her spine in the chair while staring at herself in the vanity mirror. She lifted her hands and watched as her skin turned translucent, then changed back to her peach complexion. In case she needed it, she’d removed a dried rose petal and had rested it atop her vanity beside her powders. No matter how much she focused, the flowers wouldn’t come. Not roses. Not dahlias. And not even a slight scratching.

She’d been at it for a long while when a hard knock pounded on the door, startling her. Her lips parted in surprise when she found Bram standing there, his hair disheveled and his face grim. She knew at some point he would come, but she hadn’t assumed it would be this soon … unless the death had something to do with the carnival.

“What did you find out? Did you discover if the victim had been at the carnival?” Cricket asked, taking a deep swallow.

“May I come inside for a moment?” Bram sighed, his tone off. By the looks of his scowl, he wasn’t in a good mood.

Cricket motioned him into her caravan and folded her arms after shutting the door. “Don’t keep me in suspense. You know how anxious I get.”

“First, thank you for staying with Anika. She’s much better today, and I think it’s because she had you there.” His voice shifted as though he couldn’t help but be grateful above all things.

“Of course. I’ve missed her. Now, what’s the real reason you’re here?”

“The victim from yesterday wasn’t at the carnival. She’d been working at the bakery, then at night, she’d gone to a pub with a friend and left alone.” His voice was nearly a whisper, as though he didn’t want spying ears to hear him. “You didn’t have to go dig up a victim’s grave, Cricket.”

She inhaled sharply through her nose and kept a straight face. “A victim’s grave was dug up? Oh my. Those blasted thieves venture to the cemetery all the time.”

Bram pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. “They do, but it seems quite suspicious that you discovered Phoebe’s name yesterday, and then an attendant at the cemetery reported to authorities this morning to say he believed her grave had been disturbed.”

Cricket knew Bram, and he would not drop the matter until he heard the truth. “Oh, fine, it was me. I dug up her body, then attempted a bit of necromancy to try and get answers. Put me in manacles if you must.” She wouldn’t mention Zephyr and get him in trouble simply for helping her.

His brows lifted, and he drew closer. “You mean Mistress Eliza tried. Was she able to?”

“Don’t you think I would’ve come straight to you if she had? I just wanted to get answers. Could you possibly locate another necromancer?” Not that any were easy to come by…

“I’ve tried to get Charles to look for one, yet he refuses. However, I’m going to attempt to do so now. When I was searching for your murderer, I planned to travel to the carnival myself, but I sent a letter to see if Mistress Eliza could try to rouse you. By the time I received a response that she wouldn’t be able to, Clancy had already been caught and hung.”

She blinked. “I didn’t know you did that.”

“I didn’t know the reason she wouldn’t be able to was because you were in a deep slumber either.”

“Fate made it all work out, though.” Except there was still a murderer skulking around that needed to be put to death, just like Clancy.

Chapter Thirteen

Cricket knelt behind the stage, untangling a rope that Stormy had used during her performance. The carnival was open once more after being closed for the allotted time—however, Mistress Eliza had put Cricket back on stage duty after the necromancer was questioned by Bram. Zephyr was only performing because Bram hadn’t known he’d helped Cricket.

“I can stay back here if you wish. And perform with you instead of on stage,” Zephyr said, crouching beside her. His warm breath along her neck sent a shiver through her, knowing precisely what sort of performance he meant. But she couldn’t stop herself from leaning her head closer to him to inhale his woodsy scent.

“Now, that would only make me get in more trouble. So you will perform on that stage.”

“Fine,” he dragged out the single word. “I’ll miss you out there, though.”

“You’ll do wonderful as always.” She smiled, unknotting the last of the rope. “And besides, you’ll have Autumn.”

“I think you and I work better together. And you still owe me something.” He winked as he smirked.

“I’ll be ready to help you do something that could get us both thrown in prison cells—just tell me when,” she drawled, surprising herself at how flirtatious she sounded.

He put a fist to his mouth to conceal his deep laughter.

The back entrance opened, and Autumn sauntered up to them, wearing a sequined gold one-piece, exposing her long legs and elegant arms. Most of her hair was drawn atop her head, and a loose plait fell down her back. She was beautiful as ever, and envy crawled through Cricket that she wasn’t the one with Zephyr tonight. Performing. She shouldn’t care if she was the one on stage with him or not, but she did.

“Here’s the rope,” Cricket said as she handed it to Autumn.

“I’m surprised Mistress Eliza doesn’t have you performing with Zephyr. You two have been doing so well together,” Autumn mused.

“She’s not too happy with me at the moment,” Cricket grumbled. Mistress Eliza had made it clear to her that if she told anyone about digging up the grave, she could expect to clean up after the horses and the performers.

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