Chapter Two
The sky above darkened to a deep gray, and Cricket needed to hurry home before it poured. She didn’t want to ruin her new shoes, or at least more than she already had.
Cricket had finished walking her closest friend, Anika, home from the carnival, and as she left, she couldn’t stop thinking about the performances. How every year she would go as soon as Mistress Eliza’s Carnival came to the city and opened, to be the first to catch a glimpse of each of the curious and alluring acts. Necromancers were even more rare to find than witches. The story was that the performers were all brought back to life after suffering a violent death, that their curiosities were indeed real. However, they all looked as though they’d never experienced such a terrible fate, especially Zephyr.
She thought about him, her favorite of the performers, the way he winked at the audience as he juggled swords. The sensual smile that spread across his lips when he would press a leaf against his tongue before thick green vines grew from wherever he wished, sometimes his arms, other times his torso or back. They didn’t need a single flower blooming across them to be beautiful. He was perhaps a couple of years older than her nineteen years. Stop thinking of him. Bram was the one courting her, a man whose kindness she had fallen for nearly two years ago.
As small drops of rain pelted her skin, Cricket drew to a stop and stared up at the storm-filled sky, letting the rain fall into her eyes. She didn’t worry about rushing home any longer, not when she remembered how much her younger brother, Felix, had loved this weather. He passed eleven years ago at the tender age of four from the plague, yet she still thought about him every time it rained, the way his laughter would echo. She wondered what he would’ve looked like now if he’d lived, if he would’ve enjoyed coming to the carnival as much as her. He would’ve turned fifteen a few weeks ago.
A twig snapped behind her, and before Cricket could glance over her shoulder, hands wrapped around her throat, fingers squeezing like a steel trap. She writhed as she fought to escape the stranger’s clutches, but the person’s grip didn’t slacken. They finally spun her to face them and shoved her against the nearest tree. Her gaze met two brown eyes and a young man’s face she recognized. She’d gone to school with him, but they never once talked to one another. His name was Clancy.
Why , she mouthed as her breath was cut off, her muscles weakening. Cricket’s knees buckled, and Clancy lowered her to the ground, almost delicately, like a doll made from straw.
“I just want to see what it’s like to murder someone. You could’ve been anyone,” he cooed, his eyes sparking with madness and glee.
Cricket mumbled a curse, her limbs like jelly. She felt the press of a cool steel blade between her clavicles, and she jerked upward as the knife pierced her flesh, then ripped down to her navel. Pain coursed through her, shattering her entire being.
As she peered up toward the sky, at the dark clouds, drops of rain hit her eyes. Then two shadows appeared, onyx dahlias, coming down from Clancy’s black-gloved hands. Two more pressed into her palms, then one tucked inside her mouth. She didn’t have the strength to spit it out while she lay broken and dying.
Cricket jolted and a rack of coughs barreled through her as if she hadn’t breathed in days. She drank in the cool air, finally able to peel her eyes open to the night sky above her, its stars twinkling like diamonds.
“Oh my! You’re awake!” a young woman gasped, her tight red curls spilling down to her waist. Cricket squinted, unsure if she was imagining this performer from the carnival. One she’d seen over the years. Juniper. “Mistress Eliza,” she shouted. “Cricket’s awake!”
How did she know her name? Cricket’s limbs were heavy and she couldn’t gather the energy to push herself up.
“I was just about to have Zephyr carry you to bed,” Juniper said with a warm smile.
Zephyr? To bed? What in all the stars above was happening here? Her head swam, dizzy as she attempted to recall where she’d been before this. Had she been drinking at the pub with Anika?
“The Sleeping Darling’s awake? It’s about damn time,” a deep voice drawled, then a face with a strong jaw and chiseled cheeks stood above her, holding a lantern. Zephyr… This close, he was just as enchanting as he was on the stage. The kohl lining his eyes, the dark collar circling his throat, his chest bare. Bram , she thought. Focus on him . To look and not touch was perfectly acceptable—she would swear that to the grave.
A small crowd gathered near her, and another woman broke through it, limping toward her. Cricket’s pulse accelerated as she attempted to push herself up, to get away from this strange situation. Half of the woman’s face was covered in shadow, and the other half was lit by the orange glow of a lantern, exposing deep lines around her brown eyes and wide mouth.
“Give her a moment,” Zephyr said as he spoke to the small crowd, his voice calm. “Go to your caravans for now. She needs space.” The crowd backed away when Juniper pressed a hand to Cricket’s back and helped her sit up. She was in a wooden box with only a black velvet pillow and blanket. Dark hair swung forward and she tugged on the locks, drawing off a wig. She frowned at it and her heart pounded faster. What had they done to her?
“I’m Mistress Eliza. It’s all right,” the woman said.
As if someone shook her to recollect her memories, they returned to Cricket in a rush. Her walking home, being attacked by Clancy … his strong hands strangling her, the blade slicing through her chest, the dahlias drifting down over her eyes as she lay dying. But no pain lingered, and if anything, she should be dead. “Why am I at the carnival? Why am I in a box and wearing a wig?” Cricket asked, her voice shaky.
“We have much to discuss,” Mistress Eliza answered softly. “You’ve missed out on quite a few things since I saved you.” As the lantern caught more of her face, she found the woman to be perhaps the age that Cricket’s grandparents would’ve been if they were still alive. Two graying plaits hung past her shoulders, and a violet cloak hugged her curvy form. She pointed to the two performers as Cricket shivered. “This is Zephyr and Juniper. They work here at my carnival. I’m a necromancer.”
Cricket swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing precisely what direction this was now taking. “You’re the one who gives the performers a home after bringing them back from the dead. It’s not a story, but real, and that means...”
She had died, truly died. Yet her heart beat beneath her rib cage and pounded in her ears as if it had never once stopped at all.
Mistress Eliza nodded, her expression grim. “My necromancy called to you a little over a year ago after your death. We found your body near the woods, but it didn’t go as planned when I attempted to revive you. You didn’t rouse right away, and I thought you wouldn’t, yet days later, after you were buried, I felt your pulse thrum to life. Even when we dug your body from the earth, you didn't awaken. You have been in a deep slumber, and I wasn’t sure if you would ever wake, so for the time being, you’ve been here at my carnival as the Sleeping Darling.”
“A year? I was dead and then slept for a year?” Cricket gasped, holding up her hand, inspecting it. She was no longer donning a simple blue dress, but a silky crimson gown with lacy sleeves. A gown fit for a fancy ball. “And you had me placed inside this box as a spectacle? As a doll? For people to see and mock?”
Zephyr clucked his tongue. “I told you she wouldn’t be pleased about that once she woke.”
“What else did you expect me to do?” Mistress Eliza spat at him. “If you stay here, you have to perform. You know the rules.”
Cricket couldn’t focus on the fact that she’d been dressed and undressed like a doll for an entire year while asleep, only on how she’d been murdered and that so much time had passed. She needed to find Bram, Anika, and her parents, tell them how Clancy had murdered her, if they hadn’t discovered what he’d done already.
She clasped the edge of the box to shove herself out and stumbled forward on wobbly legs. Zephyr caught her around the waist just before she fell to the grass.
“I need to go home,” she whispered.
“Wake up now!” Mistress Eliza snapped, shaking Cricket by the shoulders.
As she opened her eyes, darkness surrounded her still.
“Chew the rose petal,” the necromancer instructed. “It will keep your curiosity from rising for a little while.” The petals… Mistress Eliza had given her some several weeks ago, and she’d carelessly forgotten all about them since her curiosity had never come. But she also hadn’t expected this to happen.
A hint of floral swarmed Cricket’s mouth, and she moved her jaw, chewing the dried rose petal, letting it relax her, calm her. Her muscles were heavy, her skin tight when a tugging sensation pulsed beneath her flesh, returning the devilish dahlia blooms to somewhere beneath her skin, deep into her bloodstream. She wished she could yank them free, then watch them burn to ash.
Pipe smoke filled the air as Cricket’s eyes cleared, and she wasn’t certain where she was at first, but it must’ve been inside Mistress Eliza’s caravan. The small area was cluttered with fabrics, spools of threads, herbs, crystals, and a table covered in jars and cups. A velvet purple curtain split the room into what she could only assume held her bedroom behind it.
“You’re lucky Zephyr brought you to me in time,” Mistress Eliza said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “You know good and well I wouldn’t have been able to bring you back a second time, not with my necromancy unable to work properly. I’ve told you to carry the rose petals on you in case your curiosity got out of hand the first time. I brought you back for a purpose.”
“Oh yes, to be a spectacle in your carnival, just as I was before I awoke. I know,” Cricket rasped, her chest heaving, sweat slicking her pale skin.
“Ungrateful child.” The necromancer sighed, brushing a lock of wet hair behind Cricket’s ear. “Would you have rather stayed beneath the ground?”
Cricket wasn’t ungrateful, nor was she a child. Mistress Eliza and the performers could’ve unburied her, then taken her home instead of using her. But she understood the reasoning a minuscule amount—because what if Cricket had never woken? Would she have truly wanted Bram and Anika to spend their lives waiting for her to? Her parents? A selfish part of her did … then maybe they wouldn’t have moved on.
Her chest tightened as she thought about what she’d discovered a month ago. Bram had married Anika, her parents had packed up then left the city without a trace, and Clancy had been caught and hanged. And so Cricket had chosen to return to Mistress Eliza’s Carnival, the only place left for her. A place she’d dreamt of performing in. A dream she wished with all her heart had never come true, not when her curiosity was blooming wicked reminders.
“Why did the black dahlias blossom? You told me they would be red roses ,” Cricket hissed.
“You somehow did it to yourself, twisted your curiosity. You have to move on from your past.” Mistress Eliza pressed a comforting hand to Cricket’s shoulder. “Tomorrow, you will practice more, focus . You need to be trying here.”
“You don’t think I’ve been trying ?” Cricket bit back, incredulous. “I have. Every day. Nothing happened until these little bastards decided to consume me with their vicious garden tonight.” The only part that had gone right was when her skin became translucent, and her skeleton was visible.
“I give you shelter and food. You need to try harder.”
“Why not just send me back to the pits from which I came?”
The necromancer narrowed her eyes, sharp as blades, at her. “You’re testing my patience, child.”
When Cricket died, she couldn’t recall if her soul had gone anywhere before Mistress Eliza brought her back. Had she remained tucked in her body until her pulse restarted, or had she been in an afterlife? Perhaps she’d been a spirit cloaked in eternal coldness, hovering in the woods in Nobel, not remembering who or what she was. She shivered at the thought. Mistress Eliza was demanding, yes, wanted her way, most certainly, but she was giving and fair to her performers.
Cricket blew out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just quite a lot of things to get adjusted to.”
Mistress Eliza patted Cricket’s back and nodded, then clasped an oval, silver locket around her neck. “Should you need one, this holds a few petals so you don’t forget them. Now, go help Zephyr pack up the carnival. I made him wait outside. You’re lucky I allowed you in here.”
Zephyr was still outside? Waiting for her? “Thank you, and I will.”
“As you know, tomorrow we’re traveling to Nobel. Will you be able to pull yourself together?” Mistress Eliza studied her with a pinned gaze.
Cricket did know. Going back to Nobel was something she’d hoped would never come to fruition. She didn’t think she could face Bram and Anika after their last encounter a month ago. Just because her heart wasn’t as broken as it should’ve been about them moving on together, it didn’t mean she wanted to be reminded of what could’ve been.
As she stood, her strength returning, Cricket bit the inside of her cheek. “What if the dahlias come again?”
“Don’t allow them to,” Mistress Eliza said simply.
Perhaps it was the one time. Please let it be . She would rather fall back into a deep sleep than see them again.
“Drink plenty of water,” the necromancer added, limping to the table and grabbing a canteen for her.
“Yes, to feed the roses,” Cricket mumbled. She grabbed the canteen and drank the liquid until her throat was no longer dry.
“Let’s hope so.”
Cricket left Mistress Eliza’s home and stepped out into the cool night. A shadow leaning against the caravan caught her attention just before Zephyr pushed into the silvery light casting down from the moon.
“Glad to see you’re awake and not running away anymore,” he drawled.
Her gaze lifted to his, locking on his bright hazel eyes. “You didn’t have to bring me to her. I know I looked like a monster.” She remembered the image of herself reflecting back at her from the mirror before she ventured into darkness.
Zephyr ran a hand over his dark hair, the wind tousling the ends of a few loose strands that had broken free of his leather tie. He stepped toward her, leaning in close as if he was going to tell her a deep secret while he whispered, “You know, if you let some of us in, you might make a friend.”
She frowned and drew back from him. “I was never that great at making friends before. I only had one that was close.” Anika.
“And I take it you saw them when you went to Nobel last?”
“I did. After the initial fear of her believing I was a ghost, she was happy to see me.” So incredibly happy—it was Cricket who wasn’t. She hadn’t wanted to stay and have Anika worry that Cricket would try to reclaim Bram, even though she’d wanted to. No one in the carnival knew the man who’d been courting her had married her closest friend. No one knew she’d been courted by anyone, and she preferred her past staying where it was. They knew about Clancy’s hanging, though. The bastard.
Zephyr bit his lip, glancing up toward the flickering stars. Around them, the performers were packing up to travel to Nobel the following morning. In the distance, customers’ laughter dwindled as they trickled out. Once they were all gone, the tents would be taken down and packed away for the journey.
A moan filled the air from outside a nearby caravan, startling Cricket. She turned to find two women groping each other, one with light brown hair, the second dark auburn. Stormy and Louise.
“Get to work!” Zephyr called with a grin.
“Fuck off,” Stormy shouted, her lips pulling into a smile when her gaze landed on Cricket. “You look to be luring someone to your bed right now. Who is it?” She craned her neck to see. “The Sleeping Darling? It’s about time she gets some pleasure!”
Heat rushed into Cricket’s cheeks, and in that moment, she would rather be a pile of weeds inside her caravan.
“Mmm, if only.” Zephyr chuckled and winked at Cricket when she scowled. “By the way, you did well tonight. Your curiosity finally came.”
“Did well?” she asked, incredulous as they started walking. “I was almost consumed by dahlias that should’ve never come at all.”
“But one was a red rose,” he said seriously. “Not all dahlias.”
Cricket’s brows lifted, hope igniting in her chest. “Truly?”
“A small one, hidden beneath the others, but I saw it, only for a second before it tucked itself back into your chest.”
She blinked and prayed that maybe, just maybe, the dahlias were a fluke, that if she could hone in on her curiosity again, the red roses would answer her call.
A few moments later, they stopped in front of a black and white striped tent and kept quiet as they folded up the curtains from inside. Or mostly quiet since Zephyr whistled a song she hadn’t heard since childhood, one that reminded her of her mother when she used to hum it to Cricket and her brother. They helped several of the strong men, who’d inherited strength as their curiosity, stack the poles so they could easily load them.
Cricket opened her mouth to ask Zephyr what she needed to assist with next when Autumn rushed up to them, her dark hair like silk as it swished around her.
“I’ve been looking all over for you, Zephyr.” Autumn dipped her fingers into the waist of his trousers, pulling him toward her. “You haven’t been to my caravan in a while. How about you ride with me on the way to Nobel?”
Zephyr gently removed Autumn’s hand, then leaned forward and whispered something in her ear, making her giggle. Cricket rolled her eyes, not wanting to listen to whatever their conversation would entail, so she slipped away and weaved between the caravans.
A female cursed softly as a wicker basket collided with the ground, the trinkets spilling across the grass. Cricket spotted bright red curls and hurried to help Juniper scoop the trinkets back into the basket.
“Do you need help with anything else?” Cricket asked as she handed Juniper a brass candlestick holder.
Juniper’s lips parted, her emerald eyes widening in surprise. “You’re wanting to know if I need help?”
“Yes…” Was that such a difficult thing to assume Cricket would ask? She supposed she had been distant from everyone at the carnival, even though she had always yearned to be a part of it. Instead, she’d spent most of her free time hidden in her caravan, begging her curiosity to unleash. Although her prayer tonight had been answered in a way she hoped would never occur again.
What she knew about Juniper was that she was quiet, sweet, and lingered around Zephyr more often than not. It was quite obvious that Juniper was in love with him while Zephyr flirted with anyone with breasts.
“Then I’ll take all the help I can get.” Juniper smiled. She tilted her head to the side and peered around at the ground. “Hmm, I suppose we finished, though.” Before Cricket could turn to walk away, Juniper grabbed her by the arm. “Wait, why don’t you come in for a little while? I saw what happened to you earlier, and I can pour you some of my delicious tea.”
Cricket didn’t want to see the hopeful expression leave Juniper’s face, and to be quite frank, she didn’t want to go home and think of how dahlias had bloomed from her flesh tonight. How they were the same type of flower that had been on her dead body... “I suppose I can.”