Page 4 of Her Cruel Dahlias

“Why did the black dahlias blossom? You told me they would be red roses,” Cricket hissed.

“You somehow did it to yourself, twisted your curiosity. You have to move on from your past.” Mistress Eliza pressed a comforting hand to Cricket’s shoulder. “Tomorrow, you will practice more, focus. You need to be trying here.”

“You don’t think I’ve been trying?” Cricket bit back, incredulous. “I have. Every day. Nothing happened until these little bastards decided to consume me with their vicious garden tonight.” The only part that had gone right was when her skin became translucent, and her skeleton was visible.

“I give you shelter and food. You need to try harder.”

“Why not just send me back to the pits from which I came?”

The necromancer narrowed her eyes, sharp as blades, at her. “You’re testing my patience, child.”

When Cricket died, she couldn’t recall if her soul had gone anywhere before Mistress Eliza brought her back. Had she remained tucked in her body until her pulse restarted, or had she been in an afterlife? Perhaps she’d been a spirit cloaked in eternal coldness, hovering in the woods in Nobel, not remembering who or what she was. She shivered at the thought. Mistress Eliza was demanding, yes, wanted her way, most certainly, but she was giving and fair to her performers.

Cricket blew out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just quite a lot of things to get adjusted to.”

Mistress Eliza patted Cricket’s back and nodded, then clasped an oval, silver locket around her neck. “Should you need one, this holds a few petals so you don’t forget them. Now, go help Zephyr pack up the carnival. I made him wait outside. You’re lucky I allowed you in here.”

Zephyr was still outside? Waiting for her? “Thank you, and I will.”

“As you know, tomorrow we’re traveling to Nobel. Will you be able to pull yourself together?” Mistress Eliza studied her with a pinned gaze.

Cricket did know. Going back to Nobel was something she’d hoped would never come to fruition. She didn’t think she could face Bram and Anika after their last encounter a month ago. Just because her heart wasn’t as broken as it should’ve been about them moving on together, it didn’t mean she wanted to be reminded of what could’ve been.

As she stood, her strength returning, Cricket bit the inside of her cheek. “What if the dahlias come again?”

“Don’t allow them to,” Mistress Eliza said simply.

Perhaps it was the one time. Please let it be. She would rather fall back into a deep sleep than see them again.

“Drink plenty of water,” the necromancer added, limping to the table and grabbing a canteen for her.

“Yes, to feed the roses,” Cricket mumbled. She grabbed the canteen and drank the liquid until her throat was no longer dry.

“Let’s hope so.”

Cricket left Mistress Eliza’s home and stepped out into the cool night. A shadow leaning against the caravan caught her attention just before Zephyr pushed into the silvery light casting down from the moon.

“Glad to see you’re awake and not running away anymore,” he drawled.

Her gaze lifted to his, locking on his bright hazel eyes. “You didn’t have to bring me to her. I know I looked like a monster.” She remembered the image of herself reflecting back at her from the mirror before she ventured into darkness.

Zephyr ran a hand over his dark hair, the wind tousling the ends of a few loose strands that had broken free of his leather tie. He stepped toward her, leaning in close as if he was going to tell her a deep secret while he whispered, “You know, if you let some of us in, you might make a friend.”

She frowned and drew back from him. “I was never that great at making friends before. I only had one that was close.” Anika.

“And I take it you saw them when you went to Nobel last?”

“I did. After the initial fear of her believing I was a ghost, she was happy to see me.” So incredibly happy—it was Cricket who wasn’t. She hadn’t wanted to stay and have Anika worry that Cricket would try to reclaim Bram, even though she’d wanted to. No one in the carnival knew the man who’d been courting her had married her closest friend. No one knew she’d been courted by anyone, and she preferred her past staying where it was. They knew about Clancy’s hanging, though. The bastard.

Zephyr bit his lip, glancing up toward the flickering stars. Around them, the performers were packing up to travel to Nobel the following morning. In the distance, customers’ laughter dwindled as they trickled out. Once they were all gone, the tents would be taken down and packed away for the journey.

A moan filled the air from outside a nearby caravan, startling Cricket. She turned to find two women groping each other, one with light brown hair, the second dark auburn. Stormy and Louise.

“Get to work!” Zephyr called with a grin.

“Fuck off,” Stormy shouted, her lips pulling into a smile when her gaze landed on Cricket. “You look to be luring someone to your bed right now. Who is it?” She craned her neck to see. “The Sleeping Darling? It’s about time she gets some pleasure!”

Heat rushed into Cricket’s cheeks, and in that moment, she would rather be a pile of weeds inside her caravan.