Page 37 of Her Cruel Dahlias
Cricket’s heart lodged in her throat. “Mistress Eliza won’t give me that long. I’m lucky she’s given me this much time.” If Cricket’s curiosity didn’t match the necromancer’s original vision, she was tainted no matter where they traveled. She would have no use for Cricket.
“Just keep practicing and having the petals ready if necessary. I’m here to help any way I can if you need someone to watch you.”
“Juniper!” Mistress Eliza shouted, startling them both as she rounded the tent. “You’re about to be up and should’ve already been backstage.”
“Oh dear, I lost track of time.” Juniper blew Cricket a kiss before darting off to her performance tent.
Mistress Eliza placed her hands on her hips and limped toward Cricket. “You’ve been practicing back here for days. Have you managed to bloom any roses yet?”
Cricket bit her lip and shook her head. “I haven’t, but I can make my bones be seen at will, and just now, I was able to bring the flowers forward, and they didn’t attempt to consume me.”
Mistress Eliza rubbed at her chin. “If it wasn’t for those deceitful flowers, I might allow you to show your curiosity. But we just can’t risk the dahlias being seen. After the spectacle with the grave, I’ll only allow you on stage once you hone in on your gift.” She paused and tilted her head while tapping her fingers against her thigh. “Perhaps you need to relax your muscles more. Give into a little pleasure with someone. That can always help feed your curiosity.”
Cricket’s eyes widened, and she choked, coughing. “I’m fine,” she croaked.
“For now, see if anyone needs help.”
“All right, I’ll do that.”
“I’ll be in my tent with my tarot cards if you need me,” Mistress Eliza said, then spun on her heel and limped away.
Couldn’t the woman see that Cricket was trying? Even when her mind focused on the murders, she continued to practice day in and day out so she wouldn’t have these monstrous flowers spontaneously come out of her.
She pulled back the tent’s fabric and watched Zephyr as he sawed across a plank of wood, his taut muscles flexing. He moved with grace, even when not performing and just working.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and grinned when he looked up at her. “If you want, you can test the guillotine on me once I’m done.”
“Ah, I just might.”
“Without the blade, of course.” He winked.
“Damn,” she teased.
As Cricket studied him, her heart beat faster, and for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom why. But she knew why—she was finding herself attracted to the one man who would break her heart, the one man who wouldn’t want more than a tumble and perhaps friendship. She needed to get her head on straight.
Without a goodbye, she grabbed one of the burlap sacks and left the tent to pick up rubbish around the carnival grounds. Several apple cores were tossed on the grass, and she put them in the sack as she passed through the crowd. Buckets were set everywhere for customers to place their rubbish, but it made no difference.
Up ahead, farther away from the crowd, a flicker caught her attention. The glistening object became brighter beneath the sun’s rays as she approached. Pearls?
Cricket smiled as she plucked up what was indeed a white pearl necklace. She tucked the beads into her satchel and would later gift the trinket to Juniper.
Near the cemetery’s woods were torn and crumpled sheets of paper that she shoved into the sack. A trail of orange peels and rotted fruit littered the ground, and she wrinkled her nose while dropping them into the open bag. When she turned in the direction of the carnival, a strong hand gripped her by the arm, fingers digging in, and yanked her back to a hard chest. The sack fell from her grasp as her body jolted forward. The person’s other hand clamped around her mouth, muffling Cricket’s screams before they could drift to the carnival and be heard.
“Abomination,” a deep man’s voice rumbled in her ear, his hot breath sticky on her neck as she was dragged into the woods. “You should’ve stayed dead.”
Cricket’s stomach coiled into tight knots—she desperately wanted to get a look at the man’s face and wriggle out from his firm hold. Her body writhed, allowing her room to elbow him in his ribs. The man groaned, his grip slackening enough for her to break free. Cricket whirled around to kick him between the thighs so she could get her knife and flee. But his face was familiar, and she froze, knowing him. Charles. He took her slip-up as an advantage and rammed her into a tree, the wig falling from her head. His hand covered her mouth once more, and her gaze latched onto hateful brown eyes, his peppered mustache lifting as his lips curled into a sneer.
“Why are you doing this?” she tried to ask when his hand left her mouth and wrapped around her throat, squeezing. But her words were as muffled as when she’d tried to scream.
He didn’t say anything, only dug his fingers in harder. She grappled with her skirts, attempting to get to her knife as her breaths were cut off. Her fingers brushed the handle, and she finally curled her hand around it. With her remaining energy, she brought it up and thrust it as hard as she could into Charles’s chest. A low inhale of breath escaped his mouth while he stumbled back. Cricket no longer clutched the knife in her shaking hand, and speckles of blood coated her fingers.
“Abomination,” he rasped again when he slumped to the ground and released ragged breaths until his eyes stared blankly toward the sky.
Cricket stood there, trembling as she peered at the authority’s dead body. Not once had she ever come close to hurting anyone, yet she’d just killed a man who’d been trying to end her life.
She needed to tell someone, so she ran to the first person who wouldn’t look at her in horror at what she’d done. As she pulled back the entrance to the tent, her gaze found Zephyr, who was chipping away at the wood. Autumn laughed alongside Wilder when Zephyr glanced up.
“Zephyr, I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice cracking. Autumn and Wilder stopped laughing and looked at her with worried expressions. “Just you.”