Chapter Fourteen
With a yawn, Cricket cracked open her eyes and drew the blankets to her chin. Dawn’s light spilled into the room through the slit in her curtains. She was about to close her eyes for a little longer when images from the night before came to her. Zephyr telling her about all the things she’d missed while being the Sleeping Darling. Besides the time that Juniper had told her about a man wanting to pleasure her awake, there’d been ones begging to court her, and another had even brought a ring and proposed. She’d never had that much attention from men while awake. She remembered falling asleep against Zephyr’s warm shoulder, his soothing voice continuing into her dreams.
Cricket ripped the blankets away and jolted forward, searching around the room, but Zephyr was no longer there. He must’ve placed her in bed, fully dressed, then covered her with the blankets.
Today would be more of Cricket working behind the stage. If she could get the roses to bloom, that might satisfy Mistress Eliza enough to allow her to perform, even if it was only to assist Zephyr and not show her curiosity to an audience just yet.
Her boots rested neatly on the floor, tucked beneath her vanity. Cricket smiled to herself at Zephyr removing them from her feet and placing them there instead of leaving them on her.
It was still too early for most of the performers to be awake, including her, but since she couldn’t fall back asleep, she gathered fresh clothing and soap to bathe. A gust of wind slammed against her when she stepped out from the caravan, carrying a metallic smell. Cricket froze as her gaze swept across the ground, dropping her clothing and soap. Hoping what she saw was only a nightmare, she inched forward, her legs trembling, but no matter how much she wished the dreadful scene before her would vanish, it didn’t.
There, in the shadows between two caravans, lay a woman. Her blonde hair speckled red, her chest torn open, a pool of blood beneath her. Dahlias stared at Cricket in place of the victim’s eyes, another poked out from her mouth, others were buried inside her torn chest, and in each palm, a lone flower rested. Cricket bolted to the horrific scene and knelt beside the victim. Her scream remained locked away as the scratching from her curiosity, desperate and wild, clawed beneath her skin, but then someone else released one for her, the high-pitched sound piercing her ears.
Autumn ran toward Cricket, her dark hair billowing behind her as she covered her mouth. “What happened?” she shrieked, and doors to caravans opened. Performers stepped out, some half-dressed, others in nightgowns.
“Same as what happened to the others,” Cricket whispered, knowing if she pinched herself, she wouldn’t wake. “Will you get Mistress Eliza? Please.”
Autumn turned to the approaching performers. “Stay back!” she instructed, then took off on a heavy sprint just as Juniper broke through the crowd, the only one choosing to come close. A light pink robe was wrapped around her loosely, and her red hair was matted in tangles.
“Cricket!” she gasped, kneeling at her side.
Cricket’s gaze pulled back to the victim as if drawn by magnetism. She couldn’t stop staring at the slaughtered body—the blonde hair matching hers. Blood, so much blood. The black of the dahlias cloaked their crimson-stained petals. The haunting day of her own death revisited her, the blade pushing through her flesh. Her fingers absently ran up her chest where a scar should’ve been if the necromancy magic hadn’t taken it away. Sometimes she wished the scar had remained to remind herself of what she’d survived, that her murder had indeed happened. Yet the body in front of her now proved that it had, that there was another murderous bastard out there mirroring what Clancy had done.
Cricket ignored the quiet chatter filling the crowd as she noticed something white peeking from the victim’s coat pocket. A note of some kind. She drew the paper out and unfolded it.
In a choppy, cursive style, one single sentence was written. A pity you didn’t perform last night, Cricket .
“What does it say?” Juniper asked, leaning closer.
Cricket could barely breathe, her lungs tight in her chest. “This isn’t a coincidence that the victim’s body is here. It was meant to be left for me,” she murmured, her hands trembling as she slipped the note into Juniper’s fingertips.
“Why is everyone lurking around and staring like fools,” Mistress Eliza spat. “Someone take a horse and get the authorities.” She limped through the crowd, barefoot and wearing an oversized black nightgown. Her lips pursed as her gaze looked past Cricket and Juniper to the body.
Mistress Eliza limped faster, drawing the ruby stones from her pouch, then knelt before the young woman. She didn’t seem to take a moment to breathe as she pressed her other hand to the victim’s shoulder. Whispered words spilled from the necromancer’s lips while Cricket prayed silently that this time, the woman would rise, that her body would mend back together, that she would get a second chance to live the way the others at the carnival had, the way she had.
The woman twitched, her hands squeezing the dahlias resting inside them. A choking sound poured from her throat, and Cricket took the flower from the woman’s mouth, then removed the ones from her eyes, not caring what the authorities would say about it. Yet the victim’s eyes didn’t open, and not a single word escaped her lips. Silence reigned along the dawn air, and the woman returned to death once more.
Mistress Eliza’s shoulders drooped, her body hunching forward when she released her hand from the woman. Sweat beaded the necromancer’s brow as she turned to face Cricket and Juniper. “Did either one of you see or hear anything?”
Cricket shook her head. “No, but I—”
“Neither one of us saw or heard anything.” Juniper cut her off, tucking the note in her robe. Cricket frowned as she continued casting glances at Juniper, but she didn’t say anything else.
Mistress Eliza tightened her lips once more, then blew out a breath while murmuring, “This isn’t good.”
Zephyr rounded a caravan, dressed only in dark trousers, and when his gaze found them, he rushed forward. “Are you two all right?” Zephyr asked, his face wild. “Autumn woke me up and told me what happened. Wilder’s bringing the authorities.”
“They’re fine,” Mistress Eliza answered and limped toward him. “What I need you to worry about now is making sure everyone remains in their caravans while I get with the strong men to search inside the tents.” She then focused on Juniper and Cricket. “And you two, make sure no one tampers with the body more than it already has been.”
Zephyr scowled and looked as though he was going to argue when Juniper said, “We’re not hurt. Just do what she asked. It will make things easier for when the authorities arrive.”
“For you, I’ll listen,” he muttered.
Mistress Eliza drew Zephyr by the arm, instructing him to get her when the authorities came as they walked away.
After long minutes ticked by, Cricket leaned closer to Juniper, and though no one was around them besides the victim, she whispered, “Why did you hide the letter and not tell them?”
“If Mistress Eliza saw it, she would demand you leave. But what this awful note means is you need us more than ever. We’ll keep this between us.” With a sigh, Juniper fished out the folded paper from her robe and handed it to Cricket.
Juniper was right—Mistress Eliza would be furious to know that a vicious killer was targeting someone within her carnival. She warred with herself on whether to listen to her friend and ultimately decided to. Even if it was selfish on her part.
Footsteps crunched against the dirt, and Cricket hurriedly slid the note inside her bodice. Zephyr came into view, his voice low as he spoke, “Sorry, I had to get her off my back.”
“Did you see anything when you left last night?” Cricket asked.
He shook his head. “I should’ve—”
The sound of horses’ hooves pummeling the earth through the gathering mist soared with the breeze. Cricket jerked her head up, then leapt to her feet, peering between two caravans to catch sight of Bram, Charles, Miles, and Wilder riding their horses toward them.
Zephyr jogged away to retrieve Mistress Eliza. A few moments later, the horses halted and their riders dismounted. Bram raked a hand through his thick hair, a rigid expression on his face. Charles frowned when his gaze met hers, and Bram gave her a brief nod. They kept words at a minimum as they inspected the body.
“I’ve seen her,” Miles said. “Her name’s Joanna. She works at the meat shop.” A name with a body only made this nightmare more real, especially knowing that her family would soon discover her horrible fate.
Once Mistress Eliza and Zephyr returned, they were each questioned. Charles’s eyebrows pinched together when Mistress Eliza admitted she’d tried to revive the victim, which was why the dahlias were no longer on her eyes or in her mouth.
Charles and Miles then went door to door of the caravans, asking if anyone had encountered the victim before today or had seen or heard anything suspicious the previous night. A carriage came shortly after to take the body away to the coroner, leaving only a pool of blood behind.
Bram stepped toward Cricket, his expression grim. “I need to discuss something with you. Will you follow me?”
Her chest tightened as he led her to where his horse lingered. The note felt weighted in her bodice, and she hoped he didn’t believe she’d had something to do with this intentionally. As they came to a stop, she turned to him and asked, “What is it?”
“You’re hiding something. If you want to help these victims, you can’t keep secrets from me.”
Cricket sighed and fished out the note from her bodice. “I didn’t want anyone else at the carnival to see this.”
Without a word, Bram took the note from her hand and read it over. His throat bobbed as he peered down at her. “This letter is specifically for you, Cricket. That body was left for you . And you didn’t give me this as soon as I arrived?”
Cricket gazed at the ground in silence. “I would’ve shown you.” This was Bram, her friend, an authority she trusted, and she should’ve given it to him as soon as he’d gotten there, but she hadn’t.
“From now on, if anything else is left for you, or you want to do something illegally, come to me. Please. There’s only so much protecting you from ending up in a prison cell that I can do.”
She frowned. “What do you think the reason is for the note?” The murderer had known she didn’t perform last night, which meant they’d been at the carnival as well as the other times when she’d been on stage with Zephyr.
“The murders began a little after you left Nobel, so I believe it was to lure you back here for some reason. But even though you’re here now, the murders are continuing. So my theory may not be right, or maybe it needs to be adjusted. I feel as if this case is pushing us in circles.”
“Are you going to tell everyone about the note?”
“Only the authorities for the time being. There’s handwriting on this, and if we can find a match, that could be the key we need to catch this murderer. If you want to keep silent on this matter from the other performers, that’s your decision. They weren’t threatened directly, and the letter wasn’t sent to them—it was left for you. I can’t force you to come to my manor, but the door is always open.”
“Thank you, Bram. I’m staying here, though.”
He ran his hand across his jaw, his lips tight as though he wanted to argue. “One more thing. Last night, Zephyr was with you for most of it?”
“Yes, I’m unsure of the precise time he left.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you asking me that? Do you think one of us did it? That I wrote the note to myself? I know how authorities think sometimes.”
“You?” he asked, incredulous. “Of course not. But I was going to suggest that you stay with someone at night if you remain here. I think it should be Zephyr since he seems to care about your safety and looks like he could defend you. I believe it necessary, especially after a letter was left with your name on it.”
Cricket considered it. “All right, I’ll see about it.” She would ask Zephyr, but she wouldn’t tell him about the letter. There was no need for him or anyone else to worry about her, not when Mistress Eliza had already reprimanded him for helping her the last time. Besides that, Juniper wanted it to stay between them, even though she’d already fractured that a bit by telling Bram.
But the truth was, things were becoming a little clearer, and the victims’ murders were most certainly her fault.