Page 24 of Her Cruel Dahlias
“The cemetery?” He arched a brow. “For pleasure?”
“No!” she hissed. “If I wanted pleasure, it wouldn’t be on top of land with people buried beneath! Bram gave me the victims’ names, and I need you to help me dig up one.”
“My dark imagination can lead me to wicked places sometimes, but that wasn’t quite what I had in mind, Cricket.”
“Come on, please. I want to see if Mistress Eliza can try her necromancy again, to possibly get answers, but I can’t tell her now, or she’ll say no. I have no one else here who will agree, and I can’t dig fast enough alone,” she begged, clasping her hands together even though she hated doing it. Anika would’ve helped her, yet she wouldn’t ask her, not when she was ill and pregnant.
Zephyr drank from his flask as his eyes stayed pinned to hers, dancing with curiosity. “Is it just the one? I don’t think we’d have enough time to dig up all three.”
“Just one teensy corpse,” Cricket said. “I promise I won’t ask you to do another if this fails.”
“I’ll do it, but you owe me.”
Cricket rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to tumble you in exchange.”
“When I bring you pleasure, it won’t be in exchange for something.” He smirked.
“You say it as though it’s happening,” she drawled.
Zephyr chuckled. “I like to be optimistic.”
“I’m glad that’s sorted then.” Cricket sank down on a large rock. The night would descend soon, but she didn’t want to stay here where it was quiet, where she would think about how the body from earlier had looked. But wouldn’t the one they were digging up haunt her just as much, if not more?
Cricket needed another distraction, so she held out her hand and squinted as she studied it. She wanted to see if she could get the first part of her curiosity perfected, to make her skin turn translucent.
“You’re trying too hard,” Zephyr said and pushed off the tree. He sat beside her, and his alluring woodsy scent relaxed her.
“It doesn’t come when I will it, so I need to try harder.”
Zephyr grasped her hand, then interlaced their fingers before holding them up. “Now.”
Cricket’s eyes remained open as she squeezed his hand. And then, something stirred beneath her skin, like moth wings caressing her palms. Her skin became lighter, exposing muscle and blood until they turned translucent, leaving her ivory skeletal system in their wake.
Cricket waited for the scratching sensation to arise, but it stayed at bay. “Look,” she squeaked. “And no flowers.”
“Brilliant.” He grinned, releasing her hand.
As if being covered back up with a blanket, Cricket’s flesh held a peach hue once more. This time, she tried it without Zephyr’s touch. The color of her flesh faded, and the bones shone brightly. The flowers still didn’t claw their way free, and perhaps it was better this way since the night was already descending.
“I think we should start now. I’m not sure how long it will take,” Cricket said. “We need to get shovels.”
Zephyr stood from the rock and helped her to her feet. “We’ll grab some from the tool caravan, then go to the cemetery.”
“Easy enough.” As they trekked back through the woods, the moon took its place amongst the stars. Between the gaps in the trees, the torches’ flames blazed, lighting their way.
Once they neared the tool caravan, laughter floated around them. A smoky aroma brushed her senses as Zephyr went inside to collect the shovels. Nearby, the bonfire crackled, and she spotted Juniper wearing striped trousers with suspenders, her tight red curls free and blowing in the wind. She stood beside Stormy, listening to her talk about something. Juniper grinned, appearing happy, and that brought a smile to Cricket’s face. Beside them, Wilder tackled Autumn to the ground, tickling her sides as she giggled and cursed him at the same time.
“I found them,” Zephyr said, hopping down from the top step. She reached to take a shovel, and he tugged them back. “Let me be a proper gentleman and carry them to our secret rendezvous.”
“You’re so… I can’t think of the word at the moment, but fine,” Cricket grunted. Although she was thankful for his calmness. If she’d attempted to come alone, she would’ve been too anxious, her heart thumping more rapidly than it already was.
After grabbing two lanterns from her caravan, they walked toward the cemetery. Cricket wondered if the victim from earlier had been identified yet. And if so, had her family been notified? She thought about her parents, how they’d left when they believed Cricket was dead. Once the murderer was found, she would search for them, let the burden of death lift from their shoulders. She wished she knew where they were so she could send word that she was alive, that they didn’t have to believe both their children were gone.
Zephyr pushed aside a tree branch and held it for her to slip past. Cricket lit her lantern and raised it to reveal rows and rows of headstones. She stepped before a crumbling one, barely making out the date from centuries ago. Her body trembled as she thought about all the bodies decaying beneath the ground while their headstones stood watch. How her own grave marker might still be resting out here... A scratching sensation rustled within her, burning beneath her flesh. She held her breath, and a hint of a dark dahlia emerged at her wrist.
“So, who is the lucky lady?” Zephyr asked, startling her.
Cricket shot him a glare as her heartbeat lessened, the dahlia tucking back inside her.