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“She would’ve found a way for him to still perform.” Cricket snorted. “Zephyr seems to genuinely care about the carnival.”
“He does. Thankfully, he’s not as overprotective with me as he used to be.”
Cricket smiled, wondering what the siblings were like when they were younger, not what they’d become now, but how they truly were behind the face of the carnival before death came for them.
“Give me a moment and I’ll come with you.” Cricket pressed a bobby pin into her curls. With her blonde hair styled this way, it fell just past her chin instead of down her shoulders. Two pink circles were drawn onto her cheeks, her face pale with powders, black kohl rimmed her eyes, and a red heart was etched over her lips. She wore a black dress held together by felt buttons, its ruffles barely reaching mid-thigh, white lace peeking from capped sleeves.
She grabbed her collar from the vanity and put it around her neck as she walked beside Juniper toward the performance tent. Birds chirped above them, and the sun was starting to descend, bathing the sky in pinks, oranges, and yellows while making room for the night.
“By the way, I like your makeup,” Juniper said as a breeze ruffled her red curls. “You look just like a marionette.”
“That makes me less nervous, at least.” Cricket smiled, fidgeting with her black lacy gloves. Laughter and music burst through the carnival, the aroma of buttery popcorn drifting through the air, yet she wasn’t steady enough to think about food. She’d attempted her curiosity earlier, and she hadn’t felt anything except for a small twitch, but the petals in the locket still rested at her collarbone in case she needed them.
As they approached the tent, one of the strong men with a bushy beard exited and held up the fabric for them.
“Thank you,” Cricket and Juniper both said as they entered. On the stage, a performer, Kyrie, pedaled a unicycle while playing the flute and making snow swirl around him. Behind him, an acrobat went across a bed of nails on her hands, a dark mask hiding her face.
Once two acts had finished, Zephyr still hadn’t shown up. Cricket was uncertain what she would do if he didn’t arrive in time. But then Zephyr walked through the tent, his shoulders relaxed. He met her gaze and smirked before glancing at his sister. “The floor’s fixed. Your precious feet will remain safe and won’t fall through it.”
“With my luck, I would’ve broken something, so thank you,” Juniper said, hugging her brother. “I’ll see you two later.”
Zephyr pinned his gaze to Cricket as Juniper left, his hazel eyes slitted. “Are you ready to be my marionette?”
Butterflies swarmed low in her stomach at his deep baritone, and she forced herself to break their staring spell. “Your marionette?” She arched a brow as the piano music picked up.
He winked and lifted her, making her gasp. “It’s time. Now, become still in my arms, and as much as I want you to hold onto me like you did last night, don’t.” As if he couldn’t help himself, he added, “But after, you can touch me as much as you’d like.”
Cricket rolled her eyes and let her body become limp while he carried her out on stage. Her head tilted toward the audience, peering at as many faces as she could. She attempted once again to see anything in those expressions, if possibly a murderer was present, but she saw nothing besides the stares of the visitors waiting to be entertained.
Deep green vines unfurled from Zephyr’s back, and they lifted Cricket from his arms before gently resting her on top of a glass box. She sat in an upright position, and she let her head lull to the side, her limbs wilted. Zephyr brushed his fingers beneath her chin, then placed leather cuffs with strings around her wrists and ankles, all while his vines collected silver rings from a small table and juggled them.
Out of the corners of her eyes, she watched as rings went up and listened to the swishing sound they made while they cut through the air. When he was finished placing the last cuff around her ankle, he caught a ring in his hand. A vine ripped it from his grasp, and he cursed, making the audience bark with laughter.
Zephyr disappeared behind her as the vines lifted the strings of her arms and brought her to her feet. He pulled Cricket’s arm back, her right leg mirroring it before she performed a simple spin and halted. This was where the marionette was supposed to come to life. Her head jerked up, and she studied the audience, her gaze landing on a single face. A mistake, she realized. Before her was a man she knew all too well. She attempted to blink him away, pretend it was a horrible dream. Though it wasn’t, and her heart pounded furiously. It wasn’t Clancy who sat there watching her, but Bram wearing a bowler hat and sitting alone. Anika wasn’t at his side.
The scratching sensation stirred within her muscles, like a pack of wolves ready to rip her apart. Her skin paled, turning translucent until the bones were visible. The audience gasped. If the dahlias showed themselves, it would be more catastrophic than running off the stage.
But the scratching somehow faded, her skin returning to its normal shade. Cricket didn’t look at Bram again and broke away from her binds, the strings tearing. She spun in a circle, one pirouette after another. Zephyr’s vines joined her, caressing her stomach and back, adding momentum to her spins.
She slowed to a stop, then slumped forward, her eyes trained on the floor, not once peering up at Bram. If anything, it may have just been her imagination.
But she knew it wasn’t.
Zephyr scooped Cricket up and carried her off the stage as the crowd clapped and cheered. A few loud whistles echoed.
Once behind the curtain, Zephyr ignored the other performers congratulating them and brought her to the corner.
“What happened out there?” Zephyr asked as he set her on her feet. “You froze as if you’d seen a ghost just before your curiosity slipped out.”
“It’s nothing. No dahlias, at least. I need to grab something really quick. I’ll be back.” But she wasn’t going to fulfill that promise tonight.
“Cricket—” Zephyr started, yet she didn’t stay to hear the tail end of it as she ran out into the dusky night. She couldn’t remain in a tent where the first man she ever loved currently was. She would go to her caravan and stay there until the carnival ended.
Her heart thundered, and her hands shook as light scratching caressed her insides. She closed her eyes, concentrating, praying her curiosity wouldn’t come right then. Gradually, the sensation faded. Taking a breath of the fresh air that smelled of strawberry desserts, she opened her lids before rounding the tent and bumping into a firm chest.
“Sorry,” Cricket mumbled, avoiding looking at the person, but the stranger’s hand grasped her wrist before she could go.
“Cricket?” he said, and she stilled, recognizing Bram’s voice instantly.
