Page 17 of Her Cruel Dahlias
Cricket slowly drew in a breath and nodded. “Yes, this past month, I did that more times than I’d like to admit. But it’s been different recently, especially after the chat with him last night. If I were to think about it at this very moment, I see that if we had one day married, it would’ve led to regret. Performing and traveling are things I always wanted to pursue. Even though I’ve come to terms with Bram and Anika being married, I must admit I’m still nervous about seeing them together today while I’m alone. If only I could get these blasted nerves to go away.”
Zephyr stepped toward Cricket and lifted her chin, her eyes meeting his again. “If you wish, I can help ease your nervousness. Whether you want me to make you come quick or drag out the pleasure, I promise it will relax you.”
At that moment, she wondered what it would feel like to have those callused fingers of his hike up her dress, then trail them up her bare thighs to touch her— “I think I’d rather sleep in a bed of snakes.” But it didn’t come out as haughty as she would’ve liked.
He smirked. “Oh, we can make that happen while I spread your—”
“Just stop talking,” she cut him off, flames licking their way through her and into her cheeks. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to pull him closer or shove him away with how frequently she blushed when around him. “Anyway, Bram is with the authorities working on finding the Dahlia Killer. It for certain isn’t Clancy miraculously brought back to life.”
Zephyr cocked his head and studied her face. “You’re not going to meet him only for tea, are you? You’re going to discover more, so you can search too.”
“No,” she drawled, and even though it was only a single short word, she could hear the lie in her voice.
The playfulness disappeared from his face, and sincerity shone in his light hazel eyes. “You don’t have to bottle this up inside. You can talk to me.”
For the past month, since leaving Nobel for good, Cricket had felt like she had no one, even though the performers had been kind and attempted to talk to her. But it was her fault—she’d been too focused on the past, on having her curiosity come out. She wasn’t the only one who’d faced death at Mistress Eliza’s Carnival. Zephyr had been through a murder too—all the performers had, yet he was the one here now, and she desperately needed to confide in someone. Not only that, but each time she’d sprouted the black dahlias, he’d been the one to help save her by bringing her to Mistress Eliza.
“All right,” she said, motioning for him to follow her away from the caravans and toward the road. They passed a small crackling fire where Wilder was skinning the fur from a rabbit beside Autumn while two of the strong men roasted meat. Arthur took out a flute and began to play a slow melody.
Once they broke away from their homes, Cricket continued, “Last night, Bram told me that not only were the victims being murdered and left with dahlias, but they are all young women with blonde hair and blue eyes. Like me. At first, I thought it was a coincidence, maybe. But since it’s not Clancy, there are several directions the reasoning could go into. However, I don’t know precisely what it could be.”
Zephyr rubbed the back of his neck. “With Clancy, you were the only one and random at that. With these, coincidence doesn’t seem right, especially since there have been multiple murders all using the dahlias. Perhaps the killer just so happens to like blondes. I know I do.”
“Zephyr!” Cricket hissed and shoved his arm.
“Just trying to lighten the mood while we think about the gory details,” Zephyr said, brushing the crease between her eyebrows away with the pad of his thumb. “Whoever is doing this will be found, same as Clancy was. I find it rather pitiful that someone is mimicking a murder instead of at least being original.” He held up his hands and stepped away just as she tried to shove him again. “I’m not saying I agree with murders, but don’t use what someone’s done before, is all.”
She sighed. What he said did make sense, yet she wouldn’t admit that aloud. “My rib cage was still intact—these victims’ aren’t. I suppose by breaking open their rib cages and placing a dahlia over their heart, he’s adding his own paltry flair.”
“Paltry indeed.”
“I think this would’ve been easier if it had been Clancy. He wasn’t the brightest, but perhaps I’m not either if I didn’t notice him sneaking up behind me.” None of this seemed real to her because she didn’t even know the women’s names. It was something she should’ve asked Bram the night before, but she would when she met up with him at his manor. She supposed her death might not have seemed real to most of Nobel since they hadn’t known her. Cricket stopped and stared at the sun high up in the sky as anxiousness crawled through her.
Zephyr stood beside her, gazing up with her. “Hmm, the sun doesn’t seem to be one for offering us much advice. What do you say, Sun? Can you let lovely Cricket know who this bastard is?”
She looked at him and shook her head. “Thank you for having a semi-proper discussion about things with me. I better get going, but maybe we can talk more about this when I get back?” Bram hadn’t given her a precise time to meet with him and Anika, yet she didn’t want to arrive too late.
“Of course, I—”
A shrill scream pierced the air. Cricket’s heart thundered in her chest as she froze, unable to move. Zephyr grabbed Cricket by the waist and pulled her behind him.
“Stay here,” he whispered before taking off toward the road.
Cricket wasn’t going to remain there and do nothing—she pulled herself from her staring spell, then hiked up the skirts of her dress to fish out her blade. Clutching the knife, she darted through the grass, skirting around a few trees until she caught up with Zephyr.
“I told you to wait back there,” he said between clenched teeth.
“You don’t even have a weapon on you!” she whisper-shouted.
“I carry leaves in my pocket.”
Cricket hadn’t thought about how easy it would be for him to place a leaf into his mouth and let his vines slip out to shred someone apart. Out of everyone’s curiosity at the carnival, he could be the most powerful, the most dangerous, and she’d never thought of it that way until now.
Frantic cries echoed across the morning haze as they broke through the trees beside the dirt road. A woman with dark hair plaited over her shoulder stood in the middle of the road, cupping her mouth as her body trembled.
“Miss, are you all right?” Cricket asked, knowing it was a ridiculous question when the woman had just been screaming.
“No. Over there,” she stuttered, pointing toward the trees across the road before she released a choked sob.