Page 36 of Her Cruel Dahlias

“Cricket?” Charles said, hopping down from his horse and studying them both. “What are you two doing here?” His voice sounded suspicious.

“Just grabbed a bite to eat after a long day,” Zephyr said, narrowing his eyes.

“I suggest going back to the carnival. The town isn’t going to take too kindly on what happened.” Charles frowned. “We’ll be patrolling the road near there from now on.”

Cricket pressed her lips in a tight line to keep from telling him that the murder had occurred at the inn and not the carnival, but it wouldn’t matter. They were just carnival filth to him at this point.

“Come on, Zephyr. Let’s go.” Cricket pulled on his wrist, and he circled his arm around her shoulders.

“We don’t have to go home just because that bastard tells us to,” Zephyr grumbled.

She would’ve liked to distract herself by walking around the city, but now she just wanted to go home. “It’s all right. I just want to bathe a long while in the lake.” Zephyr arched his brow. “Alone.” She laughed.

The walk back to the carnival was nice, quiet—flocks of birds flew past them without so much as a caw. Once she reached her caravan, Cricket gathered a change of clothing and dropped a bag of her things at Zephyr’s before bathing in the lake. A few other performers were washing themselves at the opposite end, so she wasn’t alone, which was better—she didn’t know if someone could be lingering in the woods somewhere.

Night hadn’t fallen yet, but a fire was already blazing. Most of the performers were there, chatting to one another. Mistress Eliza motioned her over with a finger. “If you haven’t heard, one of the young authorities, I can’t recall his name, but not Bram, came back and mentioned how the victim wasn’t murdered here but at an inn. It’s quite strange.”

Cricket waited with bated breath for Mistress Eliza to send her away. The only one in danger at the carnival was Cricket, but she would be in danger no matter where she went.

“You might want to cover that pretty hair of yours up while we’re here.”

“I will.” She still had a few wigs from when she was the Sleeping Darling. Perhaps she should’ve worn one earlier when they’d gone into town too.

Night descended, and the stars lit up the sky. Cricket found Zephyr sitting beside Juniper and Stormy, throwing small sticks into the crackling flames. She knelt beside him, her muscles heavy. “Do you mind walking me to your caravan since you have the key? I’m tired.”

“It’s fine. I’ll turn in, too,” he said and pushed himself up.

Cricket bid goodnight to Juniper and Stormy before she and Zephyr comfortably walked side by side. Once inside his home, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for the distraction today.”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t say a word as she removed her boots and slipped into his bed.

Chapter Sixteen

The carnival remained closed for a couple of days, and since then, it only opened its doors during daylight hours. Mistress Eliza was in a foul mood about it, but they couldn’t arrive at the next town too soon. The authorities patrolled the streets, questioning everyone with any connection to the victims, yet were no closer to discovering the killer. One body being found near the road of the carnival and another inside hadn’t kept the crowd from venturing to it, but the same could be said for the earlier victims whose bodies had been found in front of a pub, library, and church. At night, more torches were lit throughout the carnival in an attempt to keep the shadows at bay.

Cricket stood behind the tent, practicing her routine while Juniper watched. She wore the chestnut wig as Mistress Eliza had suggested, only she pinned it up in a plaited crown to keep the locks from overheating her. The necromancer had released Cricket from backstage duties and allowed her to resume her practice. But Mistress Eliza still didn’t know about the letter she’d given to Bram. He’d visited once and taken her to see Anika for tea, yet there hadn’t been any leads on the murderer. Just because they had a sample of the bastard’s penmanship didn’t mean he would be easy to find in a city of thousands.

Lifting a hand toward the cloudy sky, Cricket brought her right leg back, then twirled. Even though she and Zephyr temporarily shared a caravan, they hadn’t spent much time together since Mistress Eliza ran him ragged with constant demands that he do her errands and complete endless chores. Their bedtime arrangements stayed the same—her on the bed and him on the floor. He remained gentlemanly enough at night, not asking if he could slip beneath the covers with her. If he did, she might be tempted enough to allow it.

A hammer striking metal sounded, and Cricket peeked inside the tent. She found Zephyr still helping Kyrie build a guillotine for his act.

“Focus, Cricket,” Juniper said with a smile. “Ignore them.”

She released the fabric and held her hands out in front of her while Juniper stayed silent. Her friend promised not to intervene unless she deemed it necessary. Over the past few days, nothing had changed. No dahlias or roses, only her flesh becoming translucent when practicing.

Cricket’s heart hammered in sync with Zephyr pounding away behind the fabric of the tent. The easy part came, the unveiling of her bones beneath her skin as the colored layers of her flesh faded. She brought her arms up toward the sky, then stood on her toes and slowly spun. Unlike the other days, the scratching inside her muscles stirred. She took even breaths, praying the red roses would unfurl at the surface.

However, dark marks freckled her flesh, and she continued to inhale gently while her heart raced. This time pain didn’t accompany it. Red. Become red. As the flowers sprouted, they weren’t roses but the same damn dahlias. Her veins thrummed violently while she attempted to tuck the nuisances back in, yet they wouldn’t listen. They didn’t try to consume her though, only lingered as a reminder of the victims’ deaths.

“Focus, Cricket,” Juniper repeated.

Cricket couldn’t try any longer, for fear someone would see them. She stopped spinning to take a petal from the locket, then placed it on her tongue. The dahlias drew back in as she chewed, her chest heaving, the rose flavor sliding down her throat.

“They didn’t seem to want to devour you this time.” Juniper clapped, a bright smile tugging at her pinkened cheeks.

“Besides them not being roses, I still couldn’t get the blasted things to go away on their own.” Cricket tightened her fists, letting her nails dig half-moons into her palms. “It would be fine if they were black roses, but they aren’t.”

Juniper stood from the grass and patted Cricket’s shoulder. “My theory is that you were asleep for over a year. In that time, you couldn’t work on your curiosity the way the rest of us were able to right away. Instead of within a week, perhaps it could take as long as when you were asleep to work properly.”

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