Chapter Nineteen
The victims’ lips moved, pale blue in color, whispering words Cricket couldn’t hear. Their clothing was ripped down the middle, blood pooling from their broken insides to the floor. The drip, drip, drip echoed around her. She edged closer, desperate to hear what they were whispering. Until finally, the words grew louder, becoming a crescendo that beat inside her skull. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault . Her own chest split apart, her ribs cracking open until she watched in horror as her heart beat in sync with their terrifying words.
Cricket’s eyes flew open to morning light, and she grasped her chest, finding it closed, her dress not ripped. It was only a nightmare. The victims and their dead blue lips whispering how everything was her fault.
A warm arm draped around her waist, anchoring her in a way that brought her back to reality. Keeping her from falling into that dark pit of grief. She leaned in closer to Zephyr’s touch, letting his deep, steady breaths ground her. The prior night trickled into her mind, and she stilled. The kiss, the feeling of his soft lips against hers, the way his tongue flicked hers as his touch ignited something ravenous within her.
But then the whispers from the victims came once more, and she needed to clear her head. She gently lifted Zephyr’s arm to the side, careful not to disturb him, and snuck off from the bed. With quiet movements, she grabbed a cotton dress to change into, then slipped on her boots and strapped the new knife Zephyr had given her, after their kiss, to her thigh. Perhaps she could pretend the kiss didn’t happen. But did she want to? No … No, she didn’t. Not at all.
“You can dress right here,” Zephyr purred. His smile was lazy, and his eyes hooded as they pinned to her. “I don’t mind.”
“Be a gentleman, not a rogue,” she teased.
“I can be both,” he said in a gruff voice. “Especially when I pleasure.”
Oh my … Cricket couldn’t hold back the heat creeping up her neck and the pool of it swimming through her belly, sinking lower and lower. A knock came at the door, drawing her from any response she might have given. Zephyr pushed up from the bed, snatched the knife from his desk, then shoved it into his pocket before nonchalantly opening the door.
Cricket’s heart thumped with how fast he’d moved, and by the way he did it, she didn’t think this was the first time. She remembered how he’d mentioned he always carried leaves in his pocket as well. Her chest tightened at the thought that he’d done this every time a knock came since losing his parents when they’d been attacked inside a carriage. But she would never have been able to tell by his easy posture and how he cocked his head as if there wasn’t a care in the world.
“Hello, Zephyr, is Cricket with you?” a familiar voice asked. Anika. “Autumn came to my carriage when we arrived and brought me here. After last night, I needed to check on her. I couldn’t sleep a wink.”
“She’s here.” Zephyr pulled the door wider so Cricket and Anika could see one another.
Anika wore a bonnet over her hair, and her satin emerald dress showed off the curve of her pregnant stomach.
“What are you doing here?” Cricket hissed, brushing past Zephyr and stepping outside into the fresh air. The scent of meat being roasted for breakfast caressed her nose. “Where’s Bram? Did you come alone?”
“He’s in town at the coroner’s building. Nothing of importance with the death or the killer has been found yet. And no, my mother is waiting in the carriage. You know how she feels about carnivals, but I told her either way, I was coming to see if you were all right.”
Anika’s mother had always believed that carnivals and circuses were demons’ work—their lack of clothing, their sensuality. The necromancy of Mistress Eliza’s Carnival accompanied her view as well, and she never would’ve allowed Anika to go in the past, so when they were younger, they’d always sneak to it while telling her they would be at Cricket’s.
“Didn’t Bram tell you I didn’t want you to come here, though?” Cricket sighed.
“He may be my husband, but he doesn’t tell me where I will and will not go, and as for you, if the roles were reversed, can you tell me you would just wait at home, twiddling your thumbs?” Anika huffed.
Of course, she wouldn’t. “There’s no use arguing with that. Besides, you’re already here anyway.” Cricket shrugged.
“Good. I brought breakfast. I figured we could picnic somewhere.” She craned her neck, peering past her at Zephyr, who leaned against the door frame, his shirt still off. “Your friend can join us if he’d like.” A wide grin spread across her face.
“I’ll let you lovely ladies chat while I get cleaned up, unless you need me?” His gaze met Cricket’s, questioning.
“We’ll be fine. I’ll take them to one of the tents.” She peered down at her rumpled clothing from the night before. “But let me change first.”
“Later, we can go to our practicing spot,” Zephyr said as he stepped outside. Cricket’s heart swelled at the way he said our .
After slipping back inside and changing, she walked beside Anika, past a few performers who told them good morning. “Are you sure your mother will get out of the carriage to come with us?” Cricket cast her a knowing look.
“If not, then she’ll be waiting a while,” Anika said.
Cricket stared at Anika’s dark locks of hair drawn back beneath the bonnet. Respite filled her that her friend’s hair wasn’t blonde and that her irises weren’t blue. But did that matter? The murderer might make a different decision in the way they took the life of a man instead of a woman. For now, the hair and eye color were a repetitious game, yet she wouldn’t be as na?ve to believe it couldn’t change.
“Have you still been feeling well?” Cricket asked, relieved that the past few times she’d seen Anika, she hadn’t been pale or nauseous in the way her friend had been when she couldn’t get out of bed.
“I did lose my stomach last night several times after you left, but I think that was from how worried I was. As for the constant nausea, it no longer feels as though I’m possessed by a demonic entity.”
Cricket laughed softly. “Shh. The baby has ears.”
“With my luck, they’ll have lingering crying spells, but I already love this child very much.” Anika smiled, pressing a hand to her belly.
Cricket remembered Felix, the terrible crying spells during her brother’s first few months of life. No matter how irritated Cricket was, her mother would always hush her and hold him until he fell asleep or cooed. Anika would be just as loving as Cricket’s mother was.
“You’ll be a wonderful mother,” she said as she looked toward the carriage where the coachman sat at the front, feeding one of the horses an apple.
“It seems Mother still hasn’t decided to step foot out of the carriage.” Anika sighed.
The coachman hopped down from his bench and opened the carriage door when they approached. Breeta sat up straight, her unblinking stare focused on her daughter.
“Are you going to join us for the picnic, Mother?” Anika asked. “If you don’t want to go inside the carnival, there is the cemetery on one side where we can feast instead.”
“Or on the other, where a beautiful lake rests, and I know for certain one naked male will be bathing,” Cricket added with a grin.
“Both of you, stop acting like children.” Breeta frowned, toying with a lacy yellow sleeve. “I made it here in the carriage, didn’t I?” She stepped onto the grass, a deep line still between her brows. Her dark hair was drawn into a low bun, and only a few fine lines creased her eyes.
Anika grabbed a large picnic basket from inside the carriage, and Cricket took it from her. Her shoulders dropped a little from the weight, and she wondered how much food her friend had packed. Anika plucked up a blanket and told the coachman they would be back in a little while.
As they walked toward the carnival tent, Breeta drew a glass vial from her bag and spilled a few drops of water on the ground. Blessed water—her superstitions still held strong.
Breeta’s hard face turned to Cricket as she muttered, “Seems the Dahlia Murderer is still taunting Nobel. Just when I thought we’d found relief from this nuisance, it continues. Bram has been on the case without barely any breaks, even when at home. He can hardly focus on anything else since the murders started.”
Cricket’s heart tightened as guilt knocked on it, yearning to break free of its cage. She wasn’t fond of how the woman used the word “nuisance” as if also blaming Cricket, the way the dead victims had in her nightmare... Breeta seemed to like her less than before, and while Cricket had always ignored the woman’s snotty words, it was harder at this moment. Even when Cricket was younger, she’d given her annoyed stares. She was a social climber, and because Cricket’s family didn’t have much either, she wasn’t worthy of her time.
As Cricket lifted the fabric of the tent, Breeta tugged her back by the arm. “I’m not going inside a tent. We can eat out here in the open.”
Cricket wanted to roll her eyes and tell her that devilish things only lurked behind the stage, but she held her tongue and asked Anika, “Are you fine with that?”
“I’m all right with anywhere,” Anika said as she unfolded the large blanket on the grass. “How are the other performers after everything?”
“They’re upset about losing money, but mostly just performing for an audience.” Cricket set the basket in the center and sat on the soft quilt. “I wish one of the performers at the carnival was a genuine seer. Not like the necromancer who—”
“Brings back the dead?” Breeta hissed, grasping her chest.
“Yes.” Only now, she couldn’t.
“Hmph. A pity another can’t be found to get answers from a victim.”
“I thought you believed it all to be the demons’ work.” Anika arched a brow at her mother.
“To get this demon off the streets, one might need to face another,” Breeta said as she opened the basket and took out a blueberry muffin.
Cricket was certain that Breeta would be content if Mistress Eliza could bring back a victim, if only to have Bram at home more often, due to her fear of them leaving one another and her ending up without money once more. But Cricket didn’t want to say it aloud and hurt her friend, even though Anika would know that already.
While Anika took out the remaining food, including meat and fruit pies, pastries, strawberries, grapes, and rolls, Cricket could barely concentrate on what Anika and Breeta were chatting about. Now that she was looking at Anika pouring water into glasses, all she could think about was the recent event at the pub. The body behind the building, the man’s chest being ripped open, and the desperate need to know if Bram would find out anything at all.
As Cricket forced down a slice of pie and a few grapes, she observed a handful of performers fiddling around on stilts while laughing in the distance. She hadn’t seen Mistress Eliza yet, and she hoped to avoid her for the remainder of the day, or until she could hone her curiosity and prove to the necromancer that she could be worth something.
“Do you want to come back with us?” Anika asked once they finished eating.
“Perhaps soon I’ll stop by and bring you breakfast this time,” Cricket said as she folded the blanket and handed it to Anika. She then accompanied them back to their carriage and watched it until it safely disappeared out of the trees and onto the road. A few sprinkles dropped from the sky, causing her to glance up at the darkening clouds. She was about to turn to go back toward the caravans when she caught sight of a yellow-hooded figure darting between trees inside the cemetery.
Remembering what had happened to her when she was near the cemetery last, she drew out the hidden knife from its sheath. She wasn’t going to lose sight of the person, and she wouldn’t be foolish either. So while running in the direction of the mystery figure, she screamed as loud as she could to get the attention of the other performers. Breaking through the tree line, Cricket found no one, though the figure had been there moments before. And then she saw it. A folded sheet of paper pinned to a tree.
The others arrived as she ripped the note open.
Do you think there have been too many bodies, Cricket? Blame no one but yourself .