Chapter Eleven
Cricket broke through the trees, following the torches leading to the caravans, their smoke billowing toward the starry sky. The bonfire was nothing but ashy embers now. A few lanterns lit performers’ windows, though most homes were dark for the night, their curtains drawn tight.
Mistress Eliza’s window was completely darkened, hidden behind black fabric as always, yet Cricket banged on the necromancer’s door anyway, her hands shaking in nervous anticipation.
The woman yanked open the door, wearing a long white nightgown. Her face lay in shadows before she lifted a lantern that illuminated a table covered in tarot cards behind her. “What are you doing here so late, child?” Mistress Eliza asked, her eyes puffy with sleep. “Is something the matter?”
The blood in Cricket’s veins sang wilder than ever. There was still a long while until the sun rose, and it wouldn’t take much time for the necromancer to try to rouse the victim. “I need you to come with me to the cemetery,” she said hurriedly.
“The cemetery ? At this hour?” Mistress Eliza hissed. She brought her lantern forward, letting it rise and fall, the orange glow sweeping across Cricket’s form. A deep crease formed between the necromancer’s brows. “Why are you covered in dirt?”
The woman wasn’t going to like this, but it needed to be done, regardless. “I dug up one of the victims’ bodies from the Dahlia Murders.”
“You what ?” Mistress Eliza whisper-shouted and yanked Cricket inside the caravan. The spicy herbal scent of the necromancer’s home enveloped her. “Are you trying to get the carnival banned from performing? Or are you attempting to get yourself thrown into a prison cell?”
“Zephyr and I—”
“ Zephyr ?” Mistress Eliza spat. “Why are you dragging one of my star performers into your chaos?”
Cricket didn’t want to get Zephyr in trouble, yet Mistress Eliza would see him the moment she arrived at the cemetery. “I know how this sounds. But if anything could help the authorities find an answer about the murderer, this could. You were able to get the victim from this morning to twitch a bit, so maybe you can get this one to rise, even if only briefly. You tell me I need to practice my curiosity every day—now I’m giving you the same advice.” She didn’t like the way the words sounded coming out of her mouth, as if the victim’s body was only something to be tested or practiced on. But if there was a chance, no matter how slight, that they could catch whoever was hurting these women, Cricket was determined they should at least try.
“Dead animals work just fine to practice on. Besides, you didn’t have to dig a whole body up for me to see if I could get her heart to start.” Mistress Eliza glared.
“Maybe not, but it would be stronger if the body were closer, right? And if it did work, it would be better for her to be above ground than below.” Even though Cricket didn’t remember being buried in a wooden coffin deep in the ground, the thought still haunted her. Suffocation, claustrophobia, and being alone without an escape. Cricket had wondered if Mistress Eliza hadn’t felt her pulse, what would’ve happened down there when she did awaken? She shuddered at the thought.
After a few moments, Mistress Eliza sighed and reached for the cloak hanging beside the door. “Fine, show me where the poor woman is. You will not unbury another, understand? I will feel the soil if needed on anyone else.”
“I understand,” Cricket said, going down the steps with Mistress Eliza following closely. The necromancer fastened her cloak as she limped beside Cricket toward the cemetery.
The necromancer gritted her teeth. “Sometimes I wish I could get around faster.”
“May I ask what happened?” Cricket had never once heard any of the carnival performers talk about it. Everyone was used to seeing that aspect of Mistress Eliza just as they were used to seeing the color of someone’s hair.
“Being the stupid child I was, I climbed a ladder when my father told me not to and fell on my leg wrong. It’s a part of me now, but I certainly can’t run if needed. Not that I ever liked running anyway.”
The corners of Cricket’s lips turned up. “Running is something I prefer not to do, too, if I can help it.”
“Glad we have that in common.” Mistress Eliza held her lantern higher as they neared the woods.
Cricket pushed a branch to the side, finding Zephyr leaning on a shovel, the lantern’s flame flickering atop the headstone. When they approached the unburied grave, Cricket wondered if she truly had gone mad for doing this. But perhaps it required madness to solve these murders.
“You allowed this, Zephyr?” Mistress Eliza growled, shaking her head.
“I couldn’t let her get caught out here if someone came, now could I? Two digging is faster than one.” Zephyr shrugged.
“I should ban the both of you from the carnival,” Mistress Eliza grumbled. “But if I can get this girl to rise... Help me down there, Zephyr.” She unclasped her cloak and passed it to Cricket before placing her hands into his. He lifted Mistress Eliza, then lowered her into the darkened grave. Cricket knelt to the earth and held the lantern above the necromancer.
Earlier, when distracted by the maggots and beetles, Cricket hadn’t paid attention to what Phoebe was dressed in. A golden pendant rested around her neck, and she wore a beautiful lacy blue dress with a high collar. It easily hid the stitches that would’ve been used to seal up her destroyed chest cavity before the burial.
Mistress Eliza opened the pouch at her throat and let the three ruby stones fall into her palm. She then crouched to press her other hand to Phoebe’s shoulder. A soft incantation spilled from Mistress Eliza’s mouth, just as quiet as the one had been that morning. The moon shone above, casting eerie shadows that danced across the ground. Cricket looked around the cemetery to make sure they were still alone. No graverobbers or authorities, only the peaceful sounds of the night.
Mistress Eliza’s knuckles were tinged with white as she dug her fingers into the woman’s limp shoulder. The necromancer’s lips continued to move, her words coming faster. A ragged groan filled the air, and Cricket’s breath caught as she stared at the victim. Phoebe’s eyes twitched behind her closed lids, and Cricket prayed she would open them, that she would have no fear of dahlias obstructing her sight. Phoebe wheezed, her body shuddering as maggots continued to feed on her.
“Come on, damn it,” Cricket pleaded. She watched in horror and hopefulness while wishing the woman’s breaths would become steady.
“It’s all right,” Zephyr called to Phoebe, his voice soft. “Open your eyes. You’re safe now.”
Phoebe’s wheezing ceased, just as Cricket wished, but so did all signs of life as her body lay still. Dead once again.
Mistress Eliza’s shoulders sagged and she slumped forward. “It’s the same,” she rasped, her chest heaving. “A closed door I can’t open.”
“What about the other two? If we find them here, can you try to rouse them from above their graves?” Cricket asked, brushing the dirt from her dress as she stood.
Mistress Eliza reached for Zephyr’s hands, letting him help her out of the grave. “I can,” she started, “but the repercussions of what it’s doing to them if they don’t rise is unknown to me.”
“We should probably still try.” Cricket bit her lip and exchanged a worried glance with Zephyr.
“Tell me their names.”
“Georgia Davies and Elanore Jones.”
Mistress Eliza’s expression turned hard as she adjusted her cloak. “While I look, you will bury this one back up before you’re both caught and cause the carnival more trouble.”
“No one will even notice,” Zephyr cooed to Mistress Eliza’s back as she limped down the row of headstones.
After Zephyr sealed the coffin, Cricket lifted a shovel and scooped the dirt back into the grave. “Thank you for helping me even though my idea was for naught,” she whispered to Zephyr as they worked.
“There are only a few people I would’ve done this for. Even when you were just a sleeping darling inside a box, I promised you things.” His hazel eyes met hers, and he smirked.
“I believe you’re exaggerating now.” Cricket arched a brow while curiosity bloomed in her chest. “What would you have ever promised someone who couldn’t answer you?”
“This may sound foolish,” he said, dumping a lump of dirt into the hole. “But I would talk to you as if you could hear me. I even once promised you a picnic if you ever woke up.”
A fluttering ignited in her chest, and she smiled. “Seems you still owe me that, then. One grand enough for a queen.”
“Seems I do.” He chuckled.
Cricket looked farther down the row, finding Mistress Eliza kneeling over a grave. The necromancer stood, shaking her head as she continued passing headstones. Not long after, she came back with her lips set in a tight line. “I’m unable to do a damn thing. Finish filling the grave, and don’t get caught.”
As Mistress Eliza left them alone, they worked faster to cover the grave back up, to provide Phoebe eternal peace.
Once the task was completed, Cricket straightened, and her body swayed. As she leaned forward to grab her lantern, she stumbled, and Zephyr caught her by the waist.
“Is it your curiosity?” Zephyr asked.
It wasn’t flowers trying to peek through her but exhaustion. “I’m not feeling well.”
“When’s the last time you ate or drank something other than a few sips of liquor?”
Cricket mulled it over. “Only the rose petal and a small bowl of stew for lunch when I chatted with Anika.”
“Damn it. Don’t fight me on this.” Zephyr scooped her up, and she gasped, but she didn’t have the strength to fight him even if she wanted to. As she swallowed, small granules of dirt scratched her throat. She needed water and should’ve brought some back when she’d retrieved Mistress Eliza.
Zephyr rushed Cricket to the caravans, the wind mussing his hair as she peered up at him. He opened the door to his home, carried her into the small space, and sat her on a wooden chair in the corner. She hadn’t been inside his home, but it was cozy, everything neat, and smelled of woods, like him. On the walls hung various swords and daggers, his own museum of weapons. At his past performances, when she attended with Anika, she remembered how he could easily throw daggers with his vines or hands and hit their marks.
He set a basket of food beside her on the night table and handed her a full canteen. She guzzled down the water until her thirst was quenched.
“I’m getting your chair dirty,” she said as she took a piece of jerky from the basket.
“Get anything dirty you want.” He smirked.
Cricket rolled her eyes, wondering how many women he’d brought to his bed, whether performers or customers, as she chewed the salty meat. Envy crawled through her, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer. But why did it matter to her? “Have you ever been in love?” she asked, wishing she could reel the question back into the nosey depths from which it came.
“Love?” he asked, incredulous.
“It doesn’t have to be true love. Just close enough to where you wanted to see the person’s face again after they left.” She’d always wanted to see Bram’s face again, but perhaps it was the same kind of friendship love she’d held for Anika because she’d always wanted to see her face again, too.
He paused, tucking his lip between his teeth. “No, but I suppose I fall into lust easily. I was young when my sister and I came to the carnival, and we travel, so I never saw a point in offering anything beyond a night in my bed. There’s been a performer here and there, but nothing serious.”
“Like Autumn?” Cricket asked, thinking about how easily her hands had touched Zephyr.
“Not in a long time. She’s only a friend.” He moistened his lips, studying her with an impish grin. “You’re very inquisitive tonight. Makes me wonder if you’re growing fonder of me.”
“I was only wondering .” Heat flooded Cricket’s cheeks, and she took a plum from the basket, avoiding looking into his curious hazel eyes.
Zephyr’s fingers brushed her chin, turning her head so their gazes fastened. “I’ve never been in love,” he said softly. “But that doesn’t mean I never will be.” He took the plum from her hand, his digits trailing against hers. With a smirk, he brought the fruit to his lips and took a slow bite before giving it back to her.
She didn’t shy away as she placed the fruit between her teeth, precisely where he bit. Its juiciness filled her mouth, and she couldn’t control her devilish thoughts from imagining Zephyr’s tongue tasting the sweetness, then how that sweet tongue would feel against hers.
“I think I better go and get whatever rest I’m able,” she said, her voice husky.
“You can always stay here. I’ll even sleep on the floor and won’t touch you unless you ask me to.” His grin grew wolfish, tempting.
Even though she wanted to tell him that would never happen, she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth, so instead, she said, “Goodnight, Zephyr. I’ll see you tomorrow.”