Chapter Twenty-Two
Morning light filtered through the window, waking Cricket from sleep. She smiled as visions of the night before filled her mind. Her head rested in the crook of Zephyr’s arm, and her hand lay on his warm chest. His heart beat steadily against her palm. She lingered there for a few more moments, feeling the rise and fall of his chest—one beautiful thing in a sea of horrors.
Cricket finally forced herself to rise and grabbed the first shirt she could find, one of Zephyr’s folded neatly in the corner. She pulled it on over a pair of her trousers.
As if knowing she’d awoken him, she peered over her shoulder, where he watched her with hooded eyes and a lazy smile.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he purred as he sat up, reaching for a clean pair of trousers. She thought about how she’d unlaced the ones from the night before, stroked him, and that blasted heat crept up her cheeks.
“It’s not as though you wear them much,” she said with a grin.
“It’s yours.”
“After breakfast, I was going to see if Bram has any updates. I was hoping you would want to accompany me.” If he didn’t, she could ask Juniper or maybe Wilder.
“Keep blushing like that when you look at me, and I’ll do anything.” He grabbed his boots from beside the bed and slipped them on. “If Bram doesn’t have any news, then maybe we can find a lead of our own.”
“I like that idea. Perhaps we can even track down another necromancer somehow. If not, maybe we’ll find something else that can help Mistress Eliza’s ability. I know she’s mentioned how she’s tried everything, but maybe…”
“We’ll do it.” He paused. “So how did you end up with Bram anyway? He still seems too … stiff for you. Not your type at all.”
“That’s only when he’s working.” She placed her hands on her hips. “And what’s my type precisely? Do expand more this time.”
Cricket’s breath hitched as Zephyr backed her into the door, caging her in. “Me.”
“Someone who is sweet, funny, protective, caring. And one who will pleasure me until I feel like I’m shining brighter than the stars.” She winked, then reached down and opened the door behind her.
He chuckled as they stepped outside. The sun cast its rays over the caravans, highlighting the cloud-covered sky in oranges and yellows. A gust of wind carried the smell of pastries through the air, and she knew Juniper had to be the one either making or eating them.
As they neared the campfire, she searched for Juniper’s tight red curls but only found Stormy sitting with a few performers sipping from mugs. Cricket frowned when she discovered Louise’s arm wrapped around Stormy’s shoulders. Louise giggled at something Stormy said, then leaned forward, flicking her tongue across her ear lobe before giving it a quick nibble.
Zephyr stiffened beside Cricket. “I knew she would do this to Juniper,” he growled, “but I’d hoped to be proven wrong.”
Cricket thought back to her words, encouraging Juniper to try, that Stormy and Louise perhaps weren’t meant to be. But really, she didn’t know them as well as Zephyr and Juniper did. They knew how the two women always ended up back together.
“Where’s Juniper?” Cricket asked, not hiding the frustration lacing her tone when she approached Stormy.
Stormy avoided looking directly at her as she took Louise’s arm away from her. “I told her yesterday that we needed to make different sleeping arrangements and that maybe she should stay with you and Zephyr.”
“Was this before or after you pleasured Louise that you told her that?” Zephyr narrowed his eyes.
“That’s none of your fucking business,” Louise said between clenched teeth.
“My sister has always been too good for you,” Zephyr snapped at Stormy.
“Put her up on a pedestal, why don’t you.” Louise rolled her eyes.
Cricket grabbed Zephyr by the arm and pulled him back before they said something that would cause a physical fight. She could barely control herself from throttling them, then ripping their hair out until they were both bald.
“I think we need to go to her caravan. She’s probably been in there since yesterday.” Cricket should’ve checked on her, but she’d thought she’d been with Stormy.
Zephyr knocked on Juniper’s door, perhaps a bit too loudly. When she didn’t answer, he knocked again. “Come on, Juniper, open up. If you don’t, I’ll use the key.”
A nagging feeling told Cricket not to leave. “I think you should use the key.” If they saw that Juniper was all right, that she hadn’t hurt herself, she would apologize for making him invade her privacy.
Zephyr unlocked the door, but the caravan was empty. The scent of pastries tickled her nose, yet there was no sign of Juniper. The bag she carried with her whenever she would leave to go somewhere was still on the floor.
“Where the hell is she?” Zephyr ran a hand down his face.
“She’s usually one of the first to eat, but maybe she’s bathing at the lake or with Mistress Eliza or someone else.”
“All right,” Zephyr said. “I’ll check the woods, then with Mistress Eliza while you ask the other performers. I don’t want you going out to that area, and if Mistress Eliza is in one of her foul moods, you don’t need to deal with that either.”
Cricket nodded, and as soon as he left, Autumn hurried to her. “Is everything all right? I saw what happened with Stormy and Louise.”
“I don’t know. Can you help find out if anyone has seen Juniper? Or maybe you have?” Cricket asked.
“No, not since yesterday. She looked visibly upset as she went to her caravan, seeming as though she wanted to be left alone. I now know why.” Autumn frowned.
“I need to find her.”
They went to each of the caravans, checking with the performers there, then toward the tents where several others milled about. No one had seen Juniper since yesterday.
When they returned from the tent, Zephyr was with Mistress Eliza outside her caravan. As he caught Cricket’s stare, she shook her head. His hand gripped the back of his neck, and he looked uneasy.
Juniper could’ve snuck off into town, but Cricket didn’t think she would go alone. And yet, one was capable of anything when heartbroken.
She was about to take one of the horses and go to one of the pubs when her chest tightened—there was one place she hadn’t searched. A place where she knew Juniper might’ve gone to if she’d truly wanted to be alone.
Whirling around, Cricket took off toward her caravan with Autumn shouting her name behind her. Once she reached it, she drew open the door to a strong metallic odor that invaded her nose. Her gaze latched onto bright crimson, and she froze, unable to take in the horrible sight resting before her. Blood. So much blood spattered the walls, the bed, the floor. Juniper .
Cricket trembled. Juniper shouldn’t be here like this. She should’ve been there waiting for her so Cricket could wrap her arms around her, tell her that Stormy wasn’t worth her time, that Juniper was one of the kindest people she’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. Juniper hadn’t done this to herself—someone else had.
Decorated in black dahlias, Juniper’s body lay torn and broken. A scream ripped from Cricket’s throat, and footsteps thundered behind her. Zephyr stood in the doorway, his gaze on his sister, blinking as if he couldn’t believe the nightmare before him. But then a guttural cry poured out of him, an emotion she’d never heard from Zephyr, one that most likely hadn’t been there since he’d been a boy and witnessed his parents’ murders.
Tears streaked his face as he rushed past her, dropping to his knees in front of the bed where his dead sister lay. He took the dahlias from her eyes, her mouth, her hands, and threw them all on the floor.
Stormy approached, a scowl on her face, but as she peered past Cricket into the caravan, a choking sob came from her. One Cricket believed she had no right to have when it was her who should’ve been with Juniper. Yet as Mistress Eliza limped between two caravans, she knew it wasn’t Stormy’s fault but her own. The necromancer’s darkened expression was proof of that as her gaze found Zephyr sobbing over his sister.
“What happened here?” Mistress Eliza seethed, drawing out the ruby stones from her pouch. She hobbled up the steps and hurried toward Juniper. Cricket stopped in the doorway, praying more than ever that the necromancer’s spell would work, would rouse Juniper so she could see her face don a different expression, any other expression than the dead one she held now.
Mistress Eliza pressed a hand to Juniper’s shoulder, then an incantation spilled from her lips. Juniper’s body jolted, her fingers flexing.
“Please wake up, Juniper,” Zephyr whispered.
“Wake up,” Mistress Eliza demanded, falling to her knees beside Zephyr while continuing to leave her hand against Juniper’s shoulder. “Wake up, child. You have more to do here.” But Juniper didn’t open her eyes, and her body grew still.
Mistress Eliza stood, then slowly turned around, her gaze blazing as she looked at Cricket. Grabbing her by the arm, she yanked her out of the caravan, where a large crowd of performers had gathered. Autumn studied her, worry shining in her eyes, while Stormy ran away in tears.
“This, this is your fault,” Mistress Eliza spat as if she were pinning down Cricket with nails. “One of my best performers is dead because of you. I can’t revive her because of you . Why is it that every time a body shows up, you’re there? It makes me wonder if you aren’t the one doing these things. Everyone here was protecting you, yet you couldn’t protect her.”
Cricket’s lungs froze beneath her rib cage, and she couldn’t find air. All eyes turned to her, but no one said a word until Autumn did, “It’s not her fault.” Except Mistress Eliza was right about that—it was Cricket’s fault.
“I didn’t murder her or anyone,” Cricket stammered and took a step back, her body shaking.
“Get out of my sight,” Mistress Eliza growled.
The truth was everyone here had to know if Cricket had never woken up, none of this would’ve happened at the carnival. Someone intentionally did this to Juniper to hurt Cricket. She couldn’t face Zephyr either, not after last night, not when they’d been pleasuring one another instead of making certain Juniper was with Stormy instead of assuming it. His sister was the one he should’ve been protecting, not Cricket. And that was her fault too.
Spinning on her heel, she ran away from everyone, their whispers, toward Zephyr’s caravan. Thankfully it was unlocked—otherwise, she would’ve just gone. But she collected the belongings that were there, stuffing a few changes of clothing into her bag. If there had been anything of importance to her still in her caravan, she wouldn’t have wanted it after seeing Juniper’s broken body on her bed. Taking her satchel, she bolted from the caravan as Autumn shouted her name. If her curiosity came now, clawed at her flesh, she would welcome the dahlias, let them reap her of her own life. But they didn’t come, not the one time she wished they would.
Cricket didn’t look back at Autumn, nor the caravans, or the tents, or anything. She just ran, ran away from the carnival that she never should’ve been a part of, away from the lives she had ruined.