Page 26 of Her Cruel Dahlias
After a few moments, Mistress Eliza sighed and reached for the cloak hanging beside the door. “Fine, show me where the poor woman is. You will not unbury another, understand? I will feel the soil if needed on anyone else.”
“I understand,” Cricket said, going down the steps with Mistress Eliza following closely. The necromancer fastened her cloak as she limped beside Cricket toward the cemetery.
The necromancer gritted her teeth. “Sometimes I wish I could get around faster.”
“May I ask what happened?” Cricket had never once heard any of the carnival performers talk about it. Everyone was used to seeing that aspect of Mistress Eliza just as they were used to seeing the color of someone’s hair.
“Being the stupid child I was, I climbed a ladder when my father told me not to and fell on my leg wrong. It’s a part of me now, but I certainly can’t run if needed. Not that I ever liked running anyway.”
The corners of Cricket’s lips turned up. “Running is something I prefer not to do, too, if I can help it.”
“Glad we have that in common.” Mistress Eliza held her lantern higher as they neared the woods.
Cricket pushed a branch to the side, finding Zephyr leaning on a shovel, the lantern’s flame flickering atop the headstone. When they approached the unburied grave, Cricket wondered if she truly had gone mad for doing this. But perhaps it required madness to solve these murders.
“You allowed this, Zephyr?” Mistress Eliza growled, shaking her head.
“I couldn’t let her get caught out here if someone came, now could I? Two digging is faster than one.” Zephyr shrugged.
“I should ban the both of you from the carnival,” Mistress Eliza grumbled. “But if I can get this girl to rise... Help me down there, Zephyr.” She unclasped her cloak and passed it to Cricket before placing her hands into his. He lifted Mistress Eliza, then lowered her into the darkened grave. Cricket knelt to the earth and held the lantern above the necromancer.
Earlier, when distracted by the maggots and beetles, Cricket hadn’t paid attention to what Phoebe was dressed in. A golden pendant rested around her neck, and she wore a beautiful lacy blue dress with a high collar. It easily hid the stitches that would’ve been used to seal up her destroyed chest cavity before the burial.
Mistress Eliza opened the pouch at her throat and let the three ruby stones fall into her palm. She then crouched to press her other hand to Phoebe’s shoulder. A soft incantation spilled from Mistress Eliza’s mouth, just as quiet as the one had been that morning. The moon shone above, casting eerie shadows that danced across the ground. Cricket looked around the cemetery to make sure they were still alone. No graverobbers or authorities, only the peaceful sounds of the night.
Mistress Eliza’s knuckles were tinged with white as she dug her fingers into the woman’s limp shoulder. The necromancer’s lips continued to move, her words coming faster. A ragged groan filled the air, and Cricket’s breath caught as she stared at the victim. Phoebe’s eyes twitched behind her closed lids, and Cricket prayed she would open them, that she would have no fear of dahlias obstructing her sight. Phoebe wheezed, her body shuddering as maggots continued to feed on her.
“Come on, damn it,” Cricket pleaded. She watched in horror and hopefulness while wishing the woman’s breaths would become steady.
“It’s all right,” Zephyr called to Phoebe, his voice soft. “Open your eyes. You’re safe now.”
Phoebe’s wheezing ceased, just as Cricket wished, but so did all signs of life as her body lay still. Dead once again.
Mistress Eliza’s shoulders sagged and she slumped forward. “It’s the same,” she rasped, her chest heaving. “A closed door I can’t open.”
“What about the other two? If we find them here, can you try to rouse them from above their graves?” Cricket asked, brushing the dirt from her dress as she stood.
Mistress Eliza reached for Zephyr’s hands, letting him help her out of the grave. “I can,” she started, “but the repercussions of what it’s doing to them if they don’t rise is unknown to me.”
“We should probably still try.” Cricket bit her lip and exchanged a worried glance with Zephyr.
“Tell me their names.”
“Georgia Davies and Elanore Jones.”
Mistress Eliza’s expression turned hard as she adjusted her cloak. “While I look, you will bury this one back up before you’re both caught and cause the carnival more trouble.”
“No one will even notice,” Zephyr cooed to Mistress Eliza’s back as she limped down the row of headstones.
After Zephyr sealed the coffin, Cricket lifted a shovel and scooped the dirt back into the grave. “Thank you for helping me even though my idea was for naught,” she whispered to Zephyr as they worked.
“There are only a few people I would’ve done this for. Even when you were just a sleeping darling inside a box, I promised you things.” His hazel eyes met hers, and he smirked.
“I believe you’re exaggerating now.” Cricket arched a brow while curiosity bloomed in her chest. “What would you have ever promised someone who couldn’t answer you?”
“This may sound foolish,” he said, dumping a lump of dirt into the hole. “But I would talk to you as if you could hear me. I even once promised you a picnic if you ever woke up.”
A fluttering ignited in her chest, and she smiled. “Seems you still owe me that, then. One grand enough for a queen.”