Chapter Six
Since last night had gone well, tonight’s act would require Cricket to perform more. The thought of dancing like she’d never done before sent a nervous thrill coursing through her.
A light knock sounded at the door as she finished curling her lashes. It wasn’t Zephyr coming to get her but Juniper dressed in black ruffled trousers and a shimmery ivory corset.
“Where’s Zephyr?” Cricket asked, peering past her but only spotting two performers practicing a routine on wooden stilts.
“So you would’ve rather had my brother come?” Juniper grinned, causing Cricket’s cheeks to flame. Such a tedious thing .
“I’m only teasing,” Juniper continued. “He’s backstage in one of the tents fixing loose floorboards. Arthur twisted his foot when he fell through one. Lucky he didn’t break it, or Mistress Eliza wouldn’t have been pleased.”
“She would’ve found a way for him to still perform.” Cricket snorted. “Zephyr seems to genuinely care about the carnival.”
“He does. Thankfully, he’s not as overprotective with me as he used to be.”
Cricket smiled, wondering what the siblings were like when they were younger, not what they’d become now, but how they truly were behind the face of the carnival before death came for them.
“Give me a moment and I’ll come with you.” Cricket pressed a bobby pin into her curls. With her blonde hair styled this way, it fell just past her chin instead of down her shoulders. Two pink circles were drawn onto her cheeks, her face pale with powders, black kohl rimmed her eyes, and a red heart was etched over her lips. She wore a black dress held together by felt buttons, its ruffles barely reaching mid-thigh, white lace peeking from capped sleeves.
She grabbed her collar from the vanity and put it around her neck as she walked beside Juniper toward the performance tent. Birds chirped above them, and the sun was starting to descend, bathing the sky in pinks, oranges, and yellows while making room for the night.
“By the way, I like your makeup,” Juniper said as a breeze ruffled her red curls. “You look just like a marionette.”
“That makes me less nervous, at least.” Cricket smiled, fidgeting with her black lacy gloves. Laughter and music burst through the carnival, the aroma of buttery popcorn drifting through the air, yet she wasn’t steady enough to think about food. She’d attempted her curiosity earlier, and she hadn’t felt anything except for a small twitch, but the petals in the locket still rested at her collarbone in case she needed them.
As they approached the tent, one of the strong men with a bushy beard exited and held up the fabric for them.
“Thank you,” Cricket and Juniper both said as they entered. On the stage, a performer, Kyrie, pedaled a unicycle while playing the flute and making snow swirl around him. Behind him, an acrobat went across a bed of nails on her hands, a dark mask hiding her face.
Once two acts had finished, Zephyr still hadn’t shown up. Cricket was uncertain what she would do if he didn’t arrive in time. But then Zephyr walked through the tent, his shoulders relaxed. He met her gaze and smirked before glancing at his sister. “The floor’s fixed. Your precious feet will remain safe and won’t fall through it.”
“With my luck, I would’ve broken something, so thank you,” Juniper said, hugging her brother. “I’ll see you two later.”
Zephyr pinned his gaze to Cricket as Juniper left, his hazel eyes slitted. “Are you ready to be my marionette?”
Butterflies swarmed low in her stomach at his deep baritone, and she forced herself to break their staring spell. “ Your marionette?” She arched a brow as the piano music picked up.
He winked and lifted her, making her gasp. “It’s time. Now, become still in my arms, and as much as I want you to hold onto me like you did last night, don’t.” As if he couldn’t help himself, he added, “But after, you can touch me as much as you’d like.”
Cricket rolled her eyes and let her body become limp while he carried her out on stage. Her head tilted toward the audience, peering at as many faces as she could. She attempted once again to see anything in those expressions, if possibly a murderer was present, but she saw nothing besides the stares of the visitors waiting to be entertained.
Deep green vines unfurled from Zephyr’s back, and they lifted Cricket from his arms before gently resting her on top of a glass box. She sat in an upright position, and she let her head lull to the side, her limbs wilted. Zephyr brushed his fingers beneath her chin, then placed leather cuffs with strings around her wrists and ankles, all while his vines collected silver rings from a small table and juggled them.
Out of the corners of her eyes, she watched as rings went up and listened to the swishing sound they made while they cut through the air. When he was finished placing the last cuff around her ankle, he caught a ring in his hand. A vine ripped it from his grasp, and he cursed, making the audience bark with laughter.
Zephyr disappeared behind her as the vines lifted the strings of her arms and brought her to her feet. He pulled Cricket’s arm back, her right leg mirroring it before she performed a simple spin and halted. This was where the marionette was supposed to come to life. Her head jerked up, and she studied the audience, her gaze landing on a single face. A mistake, she realized. Before her was a man she knew all too well. She attempted to blink him away, pretend it was a horrible dream. Though it wasn’t, and her heart pounded furiously. It wasn’t Clancy who sat there watching her, but Bram wearing a bowler hat and sitting alone. Anika wasn’t at his side.
The scratching sensation stirred within her muscles, like a pack of wolves ready to rip her apart. Her skin paled, turning translucent until the bones were visible. The audience gasped. If the dahlias showed themselves, it would be more catastrophic than running off the stage.
But the scratching somehow faded, her skin returning to its normal shade. Cricket didn’t look at Bram again and broke away from her binds, the strings tearing. She spun in a circle, one pirouette after another. Zephyr’s vines joined her, caressing her stomach and back, adding momentum to her spins.
She slowed to a stop, then slumped forward, her eyes trained on the floor, not once peering up at Bram. If anything, it may have just been her imagination.
But she knew it wasn’t.
Zephyr scooped Cricket up and carried her off the stage as the crowd clapped and cheered. A few loud whistles echoed.
Once behind the curtain, Zephyr ignored the other performers congratulating them and brought her to the corner.
“What happened out there?” Zephyr asked as he set her on her feet. “You froze as if you’d seen a ghost just before your curiosity slipped out.”
“It’s nothing. No dahlias, at least. I need to grab something really quick. I’ll be back.” But she wasn’t going to fulfill that promise tonight.
“Cricket—” Zephyr started, yet she didn’t stay to hear the tail end of it as she ran out into the dusky night. She couldn’t remain in a tent where the first man she ever loved currently was. She would go to her caravan and stay there until the carnival ended.
Her heart thundered, and her hands shook as light scratching caressed her insides. She closed her eyes, concentrating, praying her curiosity wouldn’t come right then. Gradually, the sensation faded. Taking a breath of the fresh air that smelled of strawberry desserts, she opened her lids before rounding the tent and bumping into a firm chest.
“Sorry,” Cricket mumbled, avoiding looking at the person, but the stranger’s hand grasped her wrist before she could go.
“Cricket?” he said, and she stilled, recognizing Bram’s voice instantly.
She slowly lifted her head, her eyes meeting his brown ones. He was dressed in his finest as always. A white button-up collared shirt with a black jacket and matching trousers, his chestnut hair hidden mostly below the bowler hat.
“What are you doing here?” she stammered.
“You never came back to say you were leaving,” Bram said, his brow furrowed as though he were hurt.
“I know,” Cricket whispered. Their past stormed through her, but her heart didn’t beat for him as it used to. Perhaps it never had in the way it was meant to. Regardless, as of now, it only beat for herself. “I decided to join the carnival.”
“I wish you would’ve at least told Anika. She’s been worried sick. Especially now…” A vein ticked along his square jaw. “I need to discuss something with you in private. It’s about what’s been happening in Nobel.”
Cricket nodded. “Walk with me to my caravan.” She knew precisely what he wanted to discuss. The murders. He wouldn’t know whether or not she’d heard about them yet, but worry shone in his gaze. Since he was here and she hadn’t ventured into town yet, there were questions she needed to ask too.
Neither spoke as she led him toward the caravans, even when they passed several performers who watched them with curiosity. Yes, I once was outgoing enough to be courted and taken to bed. Now stop looking , she wanted to shout.
Words continued to remain trapped inside Cricket and Bram’s mouths, the silence uncomfortable to the point she wanted to shatter it. She ached to slice a knife through the quiet to see if it would scream or bleed. She’d never felt this way around him before, and even though only a month had truly passed for her, over a year had gone by for everyone else.
Cricket unlocked the door to her caravan and motioned him inside. “Sorry, the space is small, and I have nothing to offer you besides whiskey.” She lifted the flask from her vanity and took a swig. “Sit wherever you like.”
“It’s fine.” He held up a hand, not bothering to take a seat as if the act would be too intimate.
Cricket sank down in the vanity chair and drank another sip, letting the strong burn of alcohol soothe her. “I’ve already been informed about the murders, but since you’re here, I do have questions.” She hated how stiff she sounded and how rigid her shoulders were.
“So you know then?” he said, running a hand along his jaw.
“That there are mutilated bodies decorated in dahlias? Yes, I know those details. Is it Clancy? Just because his body was dug up doesn’t mean it wasn’t replaced or that a necromancer didn’t bring him back.” Her voice came out harsh, but if she spoke any other way, she would break down, and she didn’t want to cry in front of Bram. Not again.
“It’s not Clancy,” Bram said, his voice assured. “I verified the body was his. Same chipped front tooth and another missing near the back. His hair was still there too. It’s someone else doing this.”
“Who then? Who would imitate how he killed me, and why?” she whispered, concern filling her.
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. But that isn’t all.” He paused, taking a breath. “All three victims are young and blonde. Did you hear that part? That their eyes are blue too, like yours.”
Cricket frowned. “I didn’t know that. But almost half the people in Nobel have blond hair and blue eyes. It isn’t as if it’s up north where it’s less common.”
“It could be a coincidence, but I don’t think so. After you died, I never gave up searching for the killer, and with Anika’s help, we caught Clancy. I’ll find this one too,” he vowed.
Cricket leaned back in the chair, thinking. “This didn’t start until after I came back to town. Do you think it has something to do with that? That I’m still alive?” She fought the memories swarming through her—the choking, the blade, the dahlias.
“It’s a possibility. A high one.” He sighed, his voice concerned like the authority he was. “Carefully and without drawing any attention to yourself, let me know if you see or hear anything out of the ordinary. As much as I don’t want to involve you, I may require your help.”
Her? She couldn’t even solve a riddle, much less a crime. But she could let him know if she spotted something suspicious. “I’ll watch the visitors closely and do the same during performances. What about flower shops? Have you checked all of them? I know midnight black dahlias are rare, but maybe they were purchased there, and the shopkeeper could remember who bought them.” That was how Clancy was discovered, but then he’d tried to leave the city before Bram and Anika found him.
“No luck with any of the flower shops. There’s another thing, though. This isn’t going to be pretty to say, Cricket, and I don’t want to dredge up more pain for you. But each of these murders is worse than what Clancy did to you. Their rib cages were torn open, and dahlias were placed inside. Always one over the heart.”
Nausea bubbled up Cricket’s throat, the taste of acid on her tongue. Anger boiled within her veins as she thought about what kind of wicked person would do something so sickening. She pushed up from the chair and stood in front of him. “I’ll do anything necessary, Bram.”
“Thank you.” He nodded and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. “I’m glad you’re safe. I’m sorry for everything.”
Tears pricked her eyes as she hugged him back, inhaling the comforting leathery smell he always carried with him.
Blowing out a breath, he took a step back. “How about you come over for tea tomorrow after you wake, and we can thoroughly review the details? Anika would love to see you.”
Even though she couldn’t think about drinking or eating anything after hearing about the victims, she would go to find out more. Besides that, she should see Anika. Her mind turned toward the past, wondering if she hadn’t been murdered, where would she have been now? Would she still have been with Bram? The one married to him? Or would she have decided to live out her dream and find somewhere to perform, away from Nobel? “Of course, I’ll be there. Why didn’t Anika come tonight?”
He pursed his lips as if this was an answer he didn’t want to give. “She’s … not feeling well.”
“Is everything all right?” Her chest tightened at the thought of Anika suffering or having something worse, like a fatal illness.
“She’s with child and has been quite nauseous as of late,” he said softly.
Cricket’s eyes widened, and she swore her heart stopped beating for a moment. A child… Anika was pregnant with Bram’s child.
“Congratulations, you’ll be a wonderful father,” she finally said, the words true. The thought of having children was something Cricket never wanted, and if she’d stayed, if she had married Bram, that would’ve taken from what she’d desired to do in the now. “She’ll be in my prayers tonight. I shouldn’t have left like I did.”
“I understand why. If I’d known you were alive, I would’ve come for you. I feel like such a bastard, but I love her. I love her so damn much, Cricket.” His eyes grew glassy, and Cricket clenched her fists, digging crescent moons into her flesh to keep her tears at bay.
Cricket knew how much he loved Anika even when she’d first come back to him. She sighed and folded her hand over Bram’s. “I know. I was angry, saddened, lots of things. But now I understand, and I’m also happy for you both. You worked together to find Clancy and fell in love through so many different emotions. It’s beautiful, really. Even under the circumstance. A better story than ours. If we’d stayed together, I believe wholeheartedly that I would’ve always yearned for something beyond this town.”
Bram gently squeezed her hand as the corners of his lips pulled up. “Because you love to dance. Your performance tonight was miraculous, the way you made your skin translucent.”
“Thank you.” She wasn’t going to discuss her current curiosity predicaments with him—it wasn’t his concern when there were more important matters at hand.
“I better go and check on Anika. She really wanted to come,” he said, releasing her hand.
“Tell her I wish her well, and I’ll see you both tomorrow.” As Cricket drew open the door, she caught a glimpse of Juniper and Zephyr as they walked by, each carrying a wicker basket.
With a smile, Juniper gave her a wave, yet Zephyr held a neutral expression that didn’t seem right on him. And she hated to admit that she missed his usual smirk.
“Watch your back, and keep this on you at all times,” Bram said, taking a small knife in a sheath from his pocket and placing it in her palm.
Cricket folded her hands over the blade and stood quietly as he walked away. She shut the door, then pressed her back to it, inhaling slowly. If there was a reason the women were blonde and blue-eyed, and it had nothing to do with her, what else could it be? Perhaps they just wanted to continue Clancy’s legacy. Or they may have even had an obsession with an ex-lover and murdered women who looked this way as a sick sort of pleasure. But she went back to Clancy’s original reason—how he’d picked the first person he saw. That chilled her the most because that meant a victim could be anyone.