Her Cruel Dahlias

Chapter Five

Flaming orange lit the backs of Cricket’s eyelids as she chewed a dried rose petal. It took a moment for her to open her eyes, the world becoming brighter. The sun shone above, the sky no longer gray.

Cricket took a slow breath, swallowing herb-infused air, her gaze meeting hazel irises.

“There you are,” Zephyr whispered, brushing back a wet lock of hair stuck to her forehead.

“Let there not be a third time you frighten us like this.” Juniper sighed and squeezed Cricket’s hand. Mistress Eliza hunched beside Juniper, her lips set in a tight line as she smoked her pipe.

“I’ll try not to,” Cricket rasped. “I was attempting to get a rose petal from my locket, but my fingers were too numb and weak to open it. Everything came quicker than last time.” She couldn’t remember when she passed out, only the dahlias bursting from her.

“I didn’t know the petals were in there, so I brought you here,” Zephyr said. They were crouched at the foot of Mistress Eliza’s caravan steps.

“I was going to have you perform on stage with Zephyr.” Mistress Eliza frowned, trailing a hand down her cheek. “I thought it could possibly help your curiosity, but perhaps you’re not ready.”

The practice wasn’t only to provoke her curiosity to come to fruition but to prepare her to perform . Even if it was a simple task, such as being a piece to Zephyr’s act, it was a start and would be much better than standing behind the stage helping the other acts or cleaning up rubbish. “I can perform with Zephyr.”

Mistress Eliza tapped her chin, studying Cricket hard. “I’ll give you a chance, but start small. No dancing just yet. He can do a chair act with you and attempt to build up from there. Either way, I still need you to practice getting a hold on your curiosity so it doesn’t murder you. Do you understand?”

The thought of dying from suffocation made Cricket brush a hand to her throat where Clancy’s firm grip had been. But starting small could get her used to the stage, perhaps even gradually calling on the roses.

“I can do it.” Her chest heaved, though her voice was determined.

“If this goes well,” Mistress Eliza said, “we can slowly add in more, but if you can’t harness your curiosity, then I’m afraid you can’t travel with us anywhere else until you do. This carnival is not a charity. Unless you can contribute in an extraordinary fashion, like every one of my other performers, I’ll have to let you go, Cricket. With a murderer leaving black dahlias on victims, we can’t have you going around showing them, accident or not.”

“I’ll work harder, Mistress Eliza,” Cricket murmured, hating to admit that she understood her reasoning.

“I want you to stay with Juniper for the night. Let her watch over you in case this happens again.”

Cricket had mostly been taking care of herself while at the carnival, but after the past two days with the dahlias and hearing about the new murders, she didn’t think it would be a good idea to spend the night alone.

“Wilder went into town to find out about Clancy. I’ll let you know what he uncovers,” Mistress Eliza said, taking another puff of her pipe.

Cricket nodded, and as she attempted to push herself up on wobbly limbs, Zephyr’s strong arms came around her waist, helping her to stand. He steadied her when she stumbled, and even though she wished she could walk on her own and not appear like a newborn fawn, she leaned into his chest, letting him guide her away from Mistress Eliza’s caravan. A breeze blew past them, the wind becoming chillier.

Zephyr turned to Juniper as his arm firmly held onto Cricket and asked, “Can you collect our bags from the east side of the lake? I’ll bring her inside your caravan.”

“Of course.” Juniper took off toward the woods, her bright red curls bouncing behind her.

“So.” Zephyr smiled as they walked toward Juniper’s pink and white painted home. “Looks as though you’re stuck with me.”

She was thankful for his light mood, that he wasn’t acting overly protective about what had happened or telling her she needed to practice harder.

“It appears so,” she drawled.

Zephyr winked at her as he opened Juniper’s door. Cricket left his arms and sat on the edge of the lumpy bed, the sweet smell of Juniper’s home comforting. He handed her a canteen of water, and she drank half of it down, then slowed her pace. A few moments later, Juniper stepped inside, her cheeks flushed from the wind. She placed their bags beside the bed and ran a hand through her tangled curls.

“I better help set up before Mistress Eliza comes squawking about.” Zephyr smirked. “Do you need me to stay?”

“Go so she doesn’t become a grouch. I’ll get you if needed.” Juniper grasped her brother by the arm and led him out before turning to Cricket with a warm smile. “I’ll go make us some tea and leave the door open. You can shout if you need me.”

Cricket lay her head against the pillow, her eyelids too heavy to keep open. “I’ll be fine,” she said. But really, she didn’t know if that was true.

Cricket tightened the short black silk skirt over the crimson sleeveless one-piece at her waist. She added red powders to her eyes and a matching shade of gloss to her lips, then accentuated her cheekbones with a stroke of rosy pink on each side. Cricket had stayed with Juniper for one night before returning to her caravan. Wilder hadn’t found out anything important besides Clancy’s body still being below ground, but did that mean it was his? She thought again about how a rotted corpse could easily be replaced with another. Pushing the thought away, she focused on getting ready, hoping her nervousness would subside. Just as she finished styling her hair into a plaited bun at the nape of her neck, a knock sounded at the door.

Adjusting her skirt once more, she drew open the door to find Zephyr standing there with his lips tilted up to one side. His leather collar stood out against his bare chest, his dark wavy hair brushing his shoulders instead of pulled back. He looked like a devilish delicacy, luring her in as he held out a hand to her. A hand she hated to admit she wanted to let ground her at that moment.

“We go on soon. You look … you don’t want to know the words I’d use to describe how you look,” Zephyr purred.

Cricket’s blasted cheeks heated, and she took his hand, her own shaking as she stepped down the few steps. “I’m nervous.” She hadn’t planned on telling anyone, but it was quite obvious by how she trembled as they walked.

“Really? I wouldn’t have even known,” he lied, distracting her from her thoughts, and her lips tilted up a smidge. “If something happens, I know where your rose petals are this time.”

“As long as the locket opens, I’ll be fine.” She was now at ease enough to release his hand when they passed the other caravans to the main area of the carnival. The flags at the tops of the tents cracked against the wind. The tantalizing aromas of roasted meat and sugary pastries drifted around her, making her mouth salivate. Perhaps she would treat herself to a taste of them if she made it through the performance.

Patrons milled about, eating caramel apples, chocolate bananas, and popcorn. A cacophony of metal and bells filled the air as children tried their hands at the many games. A hammer struck a metal piece, followed by a shrill ding when the bell rang. Winner . Other guests paraded around in small groups, laughing and chatting while couples held one another close, pointing to their surroundings with their mouths open in awe. No one seemed frightened or worried that three similar murders had occurred in Nobel recently. Most likely because it was no one they were close to.

As she gazed around, Cricket couldn’t help but search the faces of the crowd, wondering if any of these people were secretly a killer. But the outer layers of a person weren’t where she would find her answer—it was inside them, their thoughts, and she was no mind reader. A few familiar faces caught her eye that she’d seen before in town or back in school, and she turned away, hoping to go unrecognized.

Above the flaming torches, the stars flickered in the sky. For the past couple of days, Cricket had practiced both with Zephyr and alone. Her curiosity hadn’t once appeared, nor had it stirred beneath her flesh. She needed it to come and behave so she could remain with the carnival.

They approached the white and purple striped tent in the center of several black and red ones. Zephyr pushed open the thick fabric of the back entrance, then held it up for Cricket to walk through.

Inside, Juniper knelt beside a fruit basket, riffling through it until she lifted a pear and stood. She wore a black leather bodice and a matching skirt flecked in silver beads that exposed her skin well enough so her curiosity could be seen thoroughly. Biting into the fruit, Juniper wiped her other hand across the perspiration dotting her brow.

“I just finished. You’re almost up.” Juniper smiled. Not a single speck of blood lingered on her freckled skin from her performance.

“Where’s the chair?” Zephyr asked as he tilted a board back in the corner.

“Autumn needed to use it, but I told her to leave it there once she’s finished.” Juniper shrugged.

Cricket glanced behind the velvet curtain at the stage, watching Autumn stand on a wooden chair, lifting one leg behind her until her foot rested atop her head. She then brought her leg back down and stepped inside a small clear box. Blowing a kiss to the audience, she bent backward and peered through the glass at the crowd as piano music played.

Above Autumn, two female acrobats, wearing deep purple tutus and onyx masks, swung across the stage, hanging from the metal rod by their legs. Cullen, an older man with white powder on his face and black diamonds painted over his eyes, pretended as if an imaginary rope was pulling him across the stage before placing the glass lid over Autumn’s box. He sat atop it, tapping his chin in playful boredom while Autumn feigned a huff.

The crowd’s boisterous laughs echoed in the tent at the act, and Cricket stepped back. She needed the performance to go well for Zephyr—all she needed was for the black dahlias to remain at bay. The rest would be simple. And if everything went well, she wouldn’t receive another reprimand from Mistress Eliza.

Even though she’d partially blamed Zephyr for her attendance at the carnival over the years, she would never want to ruin his wondrous performances. Part of her old self was creeping out, the piece that would’ve been ecstatic to align herself with him in an act.

Zephyr adjusted his collar and took three swords from Juniper.

“No rings tonight?” Cricket asked, her gaze roaming across the shiny jeweled blades.

“Nope.” He grinned. “Tomorrow I’ll practice the swords around you.”

“As long as one doesn’t slice me, I won’t have to return the favor. And with that favor, I’ll choose where precisely,” she drawled.

“I like this side of you, Cricket .” He smirked just as the audience cheered. Her heart lurched at how her name rolled off his tongue, but she became distracted when the performers stepped off the stage.

Autumn sauntered by last, running her palm across Zephyr’s abdomen. “Good luck,” she said to him, then glanced at Cricket with a smile. “You too.”

Cricket’s frown left her face, replaced by surprise. Zephyr didn’t lose focus as his hand pressed against Cricket’s back. “Ready?” he asked when the piano began a new song.

Her stomach coiled tight, but she nodded, letting him lead her onto the stage to the wooden chair resting in the middle, waiting for her. Black lacy fabric hung around them like gossamer, and beds of nails lined the back of the stage. Same as in their practices, Cricket sat while Zephyr stood behind her. Her gaze roamed the silent audience, their expectant gazes. No face mirrored Clancy’s, and as for everyone else, she couldn’t see behind their expressions. Sweat gathered on her palms, her upper lip, the back of her neck.

As a violin accompanied the piano with a slow and deep melody, Zephyr’s hand fell to Cricket’s clavicle. He’d told her what he would do, but they hadn’t practiced this part because he said it should be natural, like a first kiss. His callused fingertips sensually trailed up her throat, lifting her chin until her eyes connected with his. Her heart beat faster, but not with fear, as something warm stirred within her chest, dipping lower.

He winked, signaling her next step. Cricket slipped a leaf out from the front of her one-piece and placed it between his lips, lingering for a moment, feeling the fullness of them against her digits. A few whistles came from the audience, and she caught the twitch of Zephyr’s mouth. She held back from rolling her eyes as his vines grew from beneath his flesh, her heart slamming against her rib cage.

Cricket remembered his words during practice. “I won’t do anything you don’t want,” he whispered. “If you want me to stop, just say my name, and I will.”

The vines curved around her, groaning, creating a barrier as they drew closer. Zephyr released her chin, stepping back and allowing the vines to fold around her. Their texture wasn’t rough as expected but soft like silk, surprising her when they cradled her in a way that felt like they were caressing her. She didn’t study any of the audience’s faces again yet instead looked toward the back of the room to tamp down the fear that her dahlias would break free. That the audience would scream in fear.

Zephyr’s vines lifted her from the chair, and even though she hadn’t practiced the next part, she was prepared from his words. Cricket gasped, pretending to be frightened, as she clamped onto him briefly. His vines tossed her up into the air, and a thrilling rush barreled through her stomach when she fell, but he easily caught her. The vines tilted upward, and she rolled down them straight into Zephyr’s warm, awaiting arms. A scratching sensation came beneath her skin, and her eyes grew wide—she couldn’t force the smile she was supposed to have. So instead, she pulled Zephyr’s face to hers and kissed him on his cheek, distracting her.

The scratching within her halted, her shoulders relaxing as she drew back.

Zephyr smiled at her and whispered, “Kiss me anytime you want.” He set her on her feet, winking at her once more. “I’ll see you in a moment.”

Cheeks heating, Cricket twirled across the stage to her exit, the closest to dancing she would get for now. The audience clapped, and a sense of home flowed through her as she reached Juniper.

“You did it!” Juniper chirped with a big smile before handing her a canteen.

The scratching didn’t stir again, and now that she was off stage, Cricket wished it would, just to see if roses would blossom. “I need to do it with my curiosity though.” Taking a swig of the water, she watched as Zephyr effortlessly juggled the swords. She couldn’t juggle one ring by herself without it hitting her in the face, let alone swords.

Juniper pressed a hand to Cricket’s shoulder. “You’ll get it, I promise. An almost skeleton that blooms roses, who twirls like you just did, will be a beautiful performance indeed.”

Her heart swelled at that. “You truly think so?”

She nodded. “If I could bloom flowers with blood, it would be sensational. I’m going to grab a sweet treat. Do you want anything?”

“Not yet. But soon.” Cricket smiled, recalling how delicious the food in the carnival had smelled.

The audience cheered again as Zephyr bowed to the crowd, his vines no longer out. He strode off stage with his hands in his pockets. “You’re still here.” He grinned as he approached her.

“Oh, was I meant to leave?” She supposed she looked like a lovesick fool waiting there for him.

“I’m glad you stayed. You did great out there.” He tucked the swords in a bag hanging at the back of the stage.

She tilted her head to the side and pointed at him. “ You did all the work.”

“Not the kiss to my cheek,” he purred, shifting closer, his woodsy scent becoming enticingly stronger.

The tent’s fabric rustled, and Mistress Eliza slipped through the back entrance. “That was good, Cricket. Now, you just need to continue focusing like that. But not like molasses,” she added before limping away to tell another group of performers how they could improve.

The necromancer was right, though. Cricket had spent a year at the carnival while asleep, helping to bring in paying customers. And now that she was awake, it was one less curiosity act that could draw in a crowd. Some carnivals dolled up their performers to pretend to have oddities, but Mistress Eliza wouldn’t be a part of that. Everything needed to be authentic.

Zephyr gently grasped Cricket’s arm and motioned his head toward outside. She let him lead her into the cool night breeze, where he circled his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “Come to my caravan tonight?” he asked, his voice thick.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She smiled, ignoring the wretched part of herself that yearned to give in.

“Are you sure about that?” He lifted her chin, his eyes hooded as he peered down at her. “I don’t only want to know what your kiss feels like on my cheek, but on my lips, my neck, my chest, my stomach... I want you to feel what mine are like when I kiss you any damn where you please.”

“That kiss was all part of the performance.” Her cheeks warmed again, and she wished she could control that tell-tale sign of her lies. “Goodnight, Zephyr.”

“You’re flushed,” he said in a gruff voice. “I like that color on you. That I’m the one who put it there.”

Cricket tried not to glance back at him as she walked away, but she did, finding him fighting a grin. She whipped her head around and went toward the caravans. Juniper sat on the steps in front of her home, eating a caramel apple while she watched Stormy drink whiskey and spin beneath the moon near a small crackling fire. Her gaze never drifted to any of the other performers in that way. If Juniper hadn’t confessed the name of the woman she was attracted to, Cricket would’ve easily guessed it now. It was how her lips were parted and how her fingers dug into her dress as she continued studying Stormy.

“Try not to be so obvious about it unless you plan on telling her how you feel,” Cricket murmured in Juniper’s ear while crouching beside her. She thought about the first time she’d told Bram how she’d felt about him, the first time she’d ever confessed how she felt about any man. At first, Bram sputtered out his tea, but then he’d lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. However, his courting her hadn’t lasted…

“It’s not obvious.” Juniper’s eyes widened as she pinched her lips together.

“It very much is.” She shrugged.

“Stormy has been on and off with Louise for a long time. Tonight they’re off again. Louise slapped her over something and left.” Juniper blew out a breath, then took another bite of her apple.

Cricket arched a brow. “Sounds like they could remain off if a slap was involved. I say, go talk to her.”

Juniper stood from the stairs and fluffed her curls with her free hand. “I’m only going to warm myself by the fire.”

“Yes, just warming yourself by the fire. That’s all .” Cricket grinned, finding herself liking that she’d allowed herself to make a friend.

Juniper gave her a soft shove, then handed her the rest of her caramel apple before nearing the fire. Cricket took a bite of the perfectly sweet delicacy as she glanced up toward the sky—a feeling that had been nagging her since arriving in Nobel slithered back. She wondered, should she go into town and ask about the murders?