Page 10 of Her Cruel Dahlias
“You really like performing?” Cricket asked, crouching beside him and taking a ring and a cloth from the ground to help.
“I do, but it wasn’t something I’d dreamt about.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know how to juggle before joining the carnival. At first, I would just stand on stage and let the vines snake out. It was pitiful, really.”
“Not pitiful at all. Your vines are extraordinary, regardless if you were to stand as still as a statue,” she said softly, peering down at her hands as she remembered this was where she’d seen him perform on the day she died. That murders like hers were happening again.
“A compliment from you? I’ll take it.” He chuckled, and when she didn’t glance back up, he lifted her chin so their eyes met. “What is it?”
She swallowed, not having the strength to pull away from his gentle touch. “It’s just … we’re back in the town where I died.”
He let out a breath and nodded slowly as he released her chin to run the fabric across a ring. “I understand. We were just in Sorel. It was where I was murdered. You can talk to me about anything—I won’t judge.” He returned to polishing his rings, waiting for her to speak.
Juniper had told Cricket about her and Zephyr’s deaths, but she hadn’t confessed that they’d been in the same city where they were murdered. Perhaps she’d wanted to pretend she wasn’t, just as Cricket wished to do so now. “Last night, Juniper told me what happened. To her, to you… I’m so sorry, Zephyr.”
Zephyr stopped his meticulous movements with the fabric. “She told you?”
“She did. I hope you’re not angry with me for mentioning it.” Cricket had never been the best at keeping secrets, only with Anika. There had been so many between each other over the years, and she would continue to hold them even now.
“No, I’m not—just surprised, is all. Juniper doesn’t talk about what happened to us to anyone. But again, neither do I.”
Even though everyone at the carnival knew about her death, because of her unusual circumstance of not waking right away, she’d never discussed it with any of the performers, only Mistress Eliza on one occasion.
Zephyr’s serious expression became playful once more. “Are you ready to get close to me and practice?”
She rolled her eyes. “I suppose… What do you want me to do?”
“Spin for me.”
“Simple enough.” Cricket pushed up from the ground and brushed the dirt from her trousers before turning in a slow circle. Zephyr cocked his head at her, clearly unimpressed.
“I think you can do better than that pitiful spin.” He smirked. “A little birdy told me you were a dancer before.”
The only person it could’ve been was Mistress Eliza, and she wished the woman wouldn’t have. “Yes, but that was before...” Cricket thought about the days of practicing in her bedroom, dreaming of joining a stage at the carnival, moving like flowers drifting in a breeze.
Zephyr stood in front of her, his tall frame hovering above her as he placed a hand around her waist and drew her close, his warm breath mingling with hers. “And this is now. Spin, but remember how you felt about dancing then. Bring the passion into your performance.”
Cricket blew out a shaky breath, avoiding looking at Zephyr when he stepped away from her, his fingers leaving her waist. She brought one leg back and lifted an arm toward the sky. Then she spun, as he’d asked, pretending as if a piano was playing, the ivory keys being pressed harder, faster, the song chaotic, creating a wonderful frenzy.
Zephyr raised his rings and tossed them high above him, catching one after another. He plucked a leaf from a tree and placed it between his lips. She flicked her gaze away from his pouty lips to twirl. Thick green vines slipped out from his arms, and they grasped his rings, continuing to do what his hands had been.
She paused, arching her back as she stretched. Farther away, shriveled flowers caught her attention—thoughts of death swirled in her mind. Scratching stirred beneath her skin, and clawing broke through her veins. She stilled, unable to move or scream. Zephyr didn’t seem to notice as he continued with the rings.
Cricket finally willed herself to move, telling herself the roses would come out when her skin became translucent, the bones peeking through. She spun slowly, building faster, ignoring the perspiration dripping down her neck. Her muscles prickled, the clawing burning, black dots freckling her pale skin. Not a single red spot in their wake. She tripped, falling to the hard ground after two dark dahlias bloomed.
Zephyr’s silver rings dropped to the dirt, and he cursed as he came to her side. “Focus on your curiosity. Rein them back in and think of crimson.”
The foliage spun around her, even though she was no longer moving on her legs. She remembered the dried rose petals and brushed the locket at her throat, to place one into her mouth.
Cricket’s numb fingers fumbled to open it, and her eyes fluttered. As Zephyr scooped her into his arms, everything turned black.
Like death.
Chapter Five
Flaming orange lit the backs of Cricket’s eyelids as she chewed a dried rose petal. It took a moment for her to open her eyes, the world becoming brighter. The sun shone above, the sky no longer gray.
Cricket took a slow breath, swallowing herb-infused air, her gaze meeting hazel irises.
“There you are,” Zephyr whispered, brushing back a wet lock of hair stuck to her forehead.