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Today would be more of Cricket working behind the stage. If she could get the roses to bloom, that might satisfy Mistress Eliza enough to allow her to perform, even if it was only to assist Zephyr and not show her curiosity to an audience just yet.
Her boots rested neatly on the floor, tucked beneath her vanity. Cricket smiled to herself at Zephyr removing them from her feet and placing them there instead of leaving them on her.
It was still too early for most of the performers to be awake, including her, but since she couldn’t fall back asleep, she gathered fresh clothing and soap to bathe. A gust of wind slammed against her when she stepped out from the caravan, carrying a metallic smell. Cricket froze as her gaze swept across the ground, dropping her clothing and soap. Hoping what she saw was only a nightmare, she inched forward, her legs trembling, but no matter how much she wished the dreadful scene before her would vanish, it didn’t.
There, in the shadows between two caravans, lay a woman. Her blonde hair speckled red, her chest torn open, a pool of blood beneath her. Dahlias stared at Cricket in place of the victim’s eyes, another poked out from her mouth, others were buried inside her torn chest, and in each palm, a lone flower rested. Cricket bolted to the horrific scene and knelt beside the victim. Her scream remained locked away as the scratching from her curiosity, desperate and wild, clawed beneath her skin, but then someone else released one for her, the high-pitched sound piercing her ears.
Autumn ran toward Cricket, her dark hair billowing behind her as she covered her mouth. “What happened?” she shrieked, and doors to caravans opened. Performers stepped out, some half-dressed, others in nightgowns.
“Same as what happened to the others,” Cricket whispered, knowing if she pinched herself, she wouldn’t wake. “Will you get Mistress Eliza? Please.”
Autumn turned to the approaching performers. “Stay back!” she instructed, then took off on a heavy sprint just as Juniper broke through the crowd, the only one choosing to come close. A light pink robe was wrapped around her loosely, and her red hair was matted in tangles.
“Cricket!” she gasped, kneeling at her side.
Cricket’s gaze pulled back to the victim as if drawn by magnetism. She couldn’t stop staring at the slaughtered body—the blonde hair matching hers. Blood, so much blood. The black of the dahlias cloaked their crimson-stained petals. The haunting day of her own death revisited her, the blade pushing through her flesh. Her fingers absently ran up her chest where a scar should’ve been if the necromancy magic hadn’t taken it away. Sometimes she wished the scar had remained to remind herself of what she’d survived, that her murder had indeed happened. Yet the body in front of her now proved that it had, that there was another murderous bastard out there mirroring what Clancy had done.
Cricket ignored the quiet chatter filling the crowd as she noticed something white peeking from the victim’s coat pocket. A note of some kind. She drew the paper out and unfolded it.
In a choppy, cursive style, one single sentence was written. A pity you didn’t perform last night, Cricket.
“What does it say?” Juniper asked, leaning closer.
Cricket could barely breathe, her lungs tight in her chest. “This isn’t a coincidence that the victim’s body is here. It was meant to be left for me,” she murmured, her hands trembling as she slipped the note into Juniper’s fingertips.
“Why is everyone lurking around and staring like fools,” Mistress Eliza spat. “Someone take a horse and get the authorities.” She limped through the crowd, barefoot and wearing an oversized black nightgown. Her lips pursed as her gaze looked past Cricket and Juniper to the body.
Mistress Eliza limped faster, drawing the ruby stones from her pouch, then knelt before the young woman. She didn’t seem to take a moment to breathe as she pressed her other hand to the victim’s shoulder. Whispered words spilled from the necromancer’s lips while Cricket prayed silently that this time, the woman would rise, that her body would mend back together, that she would get a second chance to live the way the others at the carnival had, the way she had.
The woman twitched, her hands squeezing the dahlias resting inside them. A choking sound poured from her throat, and Cricket took the flower from the woman’s mouth, then removed the ones from her eyes, not caring what the authorities would say about it. Yet the victim’s eyes didn’t open, and not a single word escaped her lips. Silence reigned along the dawn air, and the woman returned to death once more.
Mistress Eliza’s shoulders drooped, her body hunching forward when she released her hand from the woman. Sweat beaded the necromancer’s brow as she turned to face Cricket and Juniper. “Did either one of you see or hear anything?”
Cricket shook her head. “No, but I—”
“Neither one of us saw or heard anything.” Juniper cut her off, tucking the note in her robe. Cricket frowned as she continued casting glances at Juniper, but she didn’t say anything else.
Mistress Eliza tightened her lips once more, then blew out a breath while murmuring, “This isn’t good.”
Zephyr rounded a caravan, dressed only in dark trousers, and when his gaze found them, he rushed forward. “Are you two all right?” Zephyr asked, his face wild. “Autumn woke me up and told me what happened. Wilder’s bringing the authorities.”
“They’re fine,” Mistress Eliza answered and limped toward him. “What I need you to worry about now is making sure everyone remains in their caravans while I get with the strong men to search inside the tents.” She then focused on Juniper and Cricket. “And you two, make sure no one tampers with the body more than it already has been.”
Zephyr scowled and looked as though he was going to argue when Juniper said, “We’re not hurt. Just do what she asked. It will make things easier for when the authorities arrive.”
“For you, I’ll listen,” he muttered.
Mistress Eliza drew Zephyr by the arm, instructing him to get her when the authorities came as they walked away.
After long minutes ticked by, Cricket leaned closer to Juniper, and though no one was around them besides the victim, she whispered, “Why did you hide the letter and not tell them?”
“If Mistress Eliza saw it, she would demand you leave. But what this awful note means is you need us more than ever. We’ll keep this between us.” With a sigh, Juniper fished out the folded paper from her robe and handed it to Cricket.
Juniper was right—Mistress Eliza would be furious to know that a vicious killer was targeting someone within her carnival. She warred with herself on whether to listen to her friend and ultimately decided to. Even if it was selfish on her part.
Footsteps crunched against the dirt, and Cricket hurriedly slid the note inside her bodice. Zephyr came into view, his voice low as he spoke, “Sorry, I had to get her off my back.”
“Did you see anything when you left last night?” Cricket asked.
