Chapter Eighteen
Laughter and music spilled through the large room of the pub. Smoke combined with the citrusy scent of oranges filled the air. Cricket, Zephyr, Juniper, and Stormy found an empty table in the back corner. Leslie was working the bar and gave Cricket a funny look as she noticed the difference in hair color. Even though the evidence pointed to Charles being the killer, Cricket adorned another chestnut wig until Bram verified that it was indeed true.
“I need to relieve myself,” Zephyr said, setting a handful of silver coins on the table. “You ladies get anything you want.”
“And what would you like?” Cricket asked.
“Oh, you know what I would like. But surprise me.” He waggled his brows before sauntering down the hallway. Her gaze lingered on the leather collar, back in place around his throat. For some reason, she was a friend he felt comfortable sharing his story with which made her feel special.
“Whiskey and potato soup sound good?” Stormy asked, palming the coins.
“Sure.” Juniper smiled, watching Stormy walk toward the bar where Leslie poured a glass of liquor for another customer, then draped her long blonde hair over her shoulder.
Almost everyone sat with a companion except for one pretty gray-haired woman reading a book in the opposite corner, a tall silver mug beside her. A few inebriated men playing a game of cards and dice whistled at a brunette barmaid when she passed. She sent them a vulgar gesture, and they chuckled.
“So,” Cricket drawled, running a hand over her wig, “how was the stay with Stormy last night?”
Juniper’s gaze flicked to the performer once more before she said in a low voice, “She kissed me.”
“What?” Cricket’s hands slapped the table. “Were you going to mention it to me or wait until I asked?”
“I don’t think people shout it to the stars every time they get kissed, do they?” Juniper grinned.
“I’m sure some do.” Cricket laughed.
“And what about you? Have you?” Juniper arched a brow.
Stormy came back carrying four glasses of whiskey. She managed not to spill them as she set them in the middle of the table.
Cricket grabbed a glass and drank the strong liquid down. “Since I’ve awoken, there haven’t been any kisses.” She paused, thinking. “Or perhaps one. The kiss on Zephyr’s cheek during our performance.” Or two… She had given him another a few nights ago.
“Are we talking about kisses?” Stormy rubbed her hands together, her eyes drifting to Juniper.
Juniper ignored her and asked, “So, how do you feel about him?”
“We’re friends.” And yet, do friends yearn to press their lips to one another’s?
“The look in your eyes tells me differently.” Juniper held her glass up for Stormy to clink with hers.
“What look?” Zephyr’s deep voice sounded from behind her. He grabbed his glass of whiskey and tossed it back as he sank down in the chair beside her. His arm pressed to hers, and his woodsy scent surrounded her.
The young woman who was whistled at brought out the steaming bowls of soup on a serving tray. She set one in front of each of them, her gaze lingering on Zephyr, and her red-painted lips curled into a seductive smile. “I’ve seen you before,” she said.
“It’s possible?” Zephyr smirked, looking as though he was attempting to remember if she was one of the women he’d brought into his bed.
The young woman leaned on the table, her cleavage spilling out farther. “You’re the performer at the carnival.” She bit her lip. “I’ve heard about you.”
“Good things, I hope.”
“Very good things. Maybe I’ll see you later.” Her hips swished side to side when she walked away, and jealousy crawled through Cricket. Zephyr didn’t seem to notice as he lifted a spoonful of soup to his mouth.
“How about a game of cards?” one of the drunk men, with a few missing teeth, shouted toward them.
“Why not?” Stormy shrugged and pulled her chair up to the table. Cricket followed suit—it had been a while since she’d joined in on a game here.
They played for hours until night had cloaked the city, and it was decided to do only one more round. Near the end of the game, Cricket threw the die, then lifted her cards. “3, 4, 7,” she said, bluffing about her numbers.
It was between her and Zephyr for the winning hand, and he studied her, his tongue moistening his lower lip as he peered at his cards. He placed them face down in front of him. “I fold.”
“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you lose.” Juniper giggled, pushing all the coins toward Cricket to put in her bag.
“There has to be a first time for something.” He chuckled.
“You let me win, didn’t you?” Cricket said as they walked away from the table.
“Now, why ever would I do that?” Zephyr grinned, pushing open the door and holding it for them. As they started to leave the pub, a man’s shouts pierced the air from behind the building. The four of them rounded the corner to find Leslie half-dressed beside a man with unbuttoned trousers. Leslie’s hand covered her mouth, and the man cursed as they stared down at something in the shadows.
A dead body.
The chest was torn open and black dahlias rested in the victim’s palms. Charles wasn’t the murderer, even though Cricket had thought him to be—had prayed for him to be. He’d given his reason why he’d wanted her dead—because he believed her to be an abomination. Underneath that, she knew he also believed she was the root cause of why the murders were happening.
As she approached the dead body, something gave her pause, her heart speeding in her chest. The victim wore men’s clothing, and as her gaze fell to the face with eyes covered by black dahlias, the person wasn’t a woman but a blond man.
Cricket banged on Bram’s door until he answered, a candle in his hand. “What are you doing here at this late hour? Is everything all right?” He searched from her face to her three friends standing behind her.
“No, Bram, it isn’t,” she said, her voice cracking. “We were at the Garland, and a dead body with dahlias was found behind the building. Miles and a few other authorities came before the victim was taken away to the coroner. Only this blond one wasn’t like the others. It was a man.”
He inhaled sharply. “A man?”
“What about the letter?” Zephyr stated, his nostrils flaring. “Did it match Charles’s handwriting?”
“We’re still digging. Nothing he has at the office or his home was written in cursive. Just to cover all possibilities, I even checked Clancy’s, and it doesn’t match his. There still isn’t a clear answer. He could’ve also written differently in the letter so someone wouldn’t notice.”
“It couldn’t have been Charles,” Juniper piped in. “The murderer is someone else and still on the loose.”
“Unless this is another person wanting to mimic again,” Stormy mumbled, gripping the ends of her hair. Cricket didn’t believe that was the case, not with how the dahlias were strategically pressed inside the rib cage the same way as the two others she’d witnessed.
“Bram, who’s at the door?” Anika called as she came down the stairs in her flowing nightgown. “Oh dear, I’m underdressed, it seems.”
“There’s been another Dahlia Murder, darling. It doesn’t seem to be Charles as we thought. I’m going to take a horse to the coroner and see the body for myself.” Bram then looked at Cricket. “I don’t want any of you walking home. I’ll have the coachman bring you there.”
Anika grasped Cricket’s hand. “You all can come in and stay.”
“I would, but we need to warn the others at the carnival about the murder,” Cricket said.
“Promise me you won’t wander anywhere alone,” Anika pleaded.
“I promise.”
After explaining to Anika what they’d witnessed at the pub, the coachman took them back to the carnival in the carriage. She didn’t know when she would get answers from Bram, but she hoped by early tomorrow.
A group of performers lingered around the fire while Mistress Eliza sat opposite them, sipping from a glass bottle and chatting with Autumn. Cricket and Zephyr went to Mistress Eliza, and a sinking feeling plummeted into the pit of her stomach as she stopped in front of the necromancer.
“The Dahlia Murderer is still out there,” Cricket started. “There was another dead body in town, but this one was a man. I think everyone needs to be extra careful. Especially the two blond male performers.”
Mistress Eliza’s gaze narrowed at Cricket, her voice coming out a slur from having too much to drink. “So that means whoever wrote you that letter is still going to threaten my carnival. Is that what you’re implying? That the carnival is going to suffer more because of you?”
Horrified, Cricket was too taken aback to find words in her defense. Because what the necromancer implied was true. This was all her fault.
“You have no right to say that,” Zephyr said between gritted teeth.
Cricket didn’t wait to hear Mistress Eliza’s reply as she took off toward Zephyr’s caravan. All she could focus on was that it was her fault. Perhaps she should’ve sent back the others alone while she stayed with Anika. She was nothing but a waste of time to Mistress Eliza.
The scratching sensation clawed beneath her flesh like an old friend bidding someone a hello. Under the night air, dahlias, black as midnight, rose from their gardens across her arms.
“Cricket!” Zephyr shouted, grasping her by the arm and tugging her to his chest. “Stay calm.”
Even though she tried to tuck them away, they wouldn’t return to their depths. She opened her locket, finding it empty. “There’s more in your caravan,” she rasped, her blood akin to a fire raging through her veins.
Before she could stumble toward it, he lifted her into his arms and rushed her inside. As she went to grab her bag, dahlias bloomed from her eyes, darkening the world, and she screamed. Rustling sounded, followed by the press of salty fingers and a petal onto her tongue. The rose flavor filled her mouth.
The black curtain lifted from her eyes as the dahlias hid away, revealing color and Zephyr’s handsome face. Breaths ragged, she reached for the blade that should’ve been at her thigh when she remembered it was plunged into Charles’s chest.
“What are you searching for?” Zephyr asked.
“My knife,” she sobbed. “Perhaps if I cut them out, the dahlias will stop growing from me . I shouldn’t have been brought back. Mistress Eliza believes I’m a burden, and I am.”
“Fuck her. Fuck anyone who believes that,” he spat. “How would they feel if this was happening to them? And if you die again, that’s it. Mistress Eliza can’t revive you a second time, and I don’t know where to find another necromancer.”
“I don’t care. I want them gone,” she said, tears raining down her cheeks. But she did care. She cared quite badly. “Mistress Eliza wasted her necromancy on me.”
Zephyr lifted her chin so her eyes met his blazing hazel ones. “She didn’t. You will prove her wrong. Show her you can do this. For yourself. You’ve always wanted to perform. You’re so close—I can feel it in you. My curiosity feels yours.” He leaned in, cupping her cheek as his forehead pressed to hers. “I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I first saw you at the carnival in the front row. And after you woke up to live your second life, I’ve wanted to even more.”
“Is that all?” Cricket asked, her voice husky, her heart pounding from his lovely words.
A wide, devious smile crossed his face, beautiful and dangerous all at once. “No, I’m not sure you want to hear all the things I want to do to you. All the things I want you to do to me. I want to peel this down.” His long fingers skimmed across the collar of her dress before trailing down her sides to her hips, then brushing the fabric of her skirt. “I want to hike this up and touch every damn inch of you so I can hear you moan, taste what it sounds like when you do it against my tongue.”
Her body heated, aching for his touch. “A kiss, for now, will suffice.” She was punishing herself when all she wanted was for him to shed his clothing and feel the touch of his skin against hers, but torture was the only choice until she could think properly.
Zephyr’s mouth captured Cricket’s, and his lips slanted across hers, tasting of whiskey and mint. His tongue flicked the seam of her lips, prying them open before dipping impishly inside. The kiss deepened, and he drew her closer, his demanding tongue performing with hers. A kiss that created sparks, that if he went any further she knew it would ignite an inferno, blazing and brilliant. He nipped her lower lip, and she tangled her hands in his hair.
Cricket pulled back, her chest heaving as she peered at his swollen lips. “Zephyr, you just gave me a reason to want to try even harder.”