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After slipping back inside and changing, she walked beside Anika, past a few performers who told them good morning. “Are you sure your mother will get out of the carriage to come with us?” Cricket cast her a knowing look.
“If not, then she’ll be waiting a while,” Anika said.
Cricket stared at Anika’s dark locks of hair drawn back beneath the bonnet. Respite filled her that her friend’s hair wasn’t blonde and that her irises weren’t blue. But did that matter? The murderer might make a different decision in the way they took the life of a man instead of a woman. For now, the hair and eye color were a repetitious game, yet she wouldn’t be as naïve to believe it couldn’t change.
“Have you still been feeling well?” Cricket asked, relieved that the past few times she’d seen Anika, she hadn’t been pale or nauseous in the way her friend had been when she couldn’t get out of bed.
“I did lose my stomach last night several times after you left, but I think that was from how worried I was. As for the constant nausea, it no longer feels as though I’m possessed by a demonic entity.”
Cricket laughed softly. “Shh. The baby has ears.”
“With my luck, they’ll have lingering crying spells, but I already love this child very much.” Anika smiled, pressing a hand to her belly.
Cricket remembered Felix, the terrible crying spells during her brother’s first few months of life. No matter how irritated Cricket was, her mother would always hush her and hold him until he fell asleep or cooed. Anika would be just as loving as Cricket’s mother was.
“You’ll be a wonderful mother,” she said as she looked toward the carriage where the coachman sat at the front, feeding one of the horses an apple.
“It seems Mother still hasn’t decided to step foot out of the carriage.” Anika sighed.
The coachman hopped down from his bench and opened the carriage door when they approached. Breeta sat up straight, her unblinking stare focused on her daughter.
“Are you going to join us for the picnic, Mother?” Anika asked. “If you don’t want to go inside the carnival, there is the cemetery on one side where we can feast instead.”
“Or on the other, where a beautiful lake rests, and I know for certain one naked male will be bathing,” Cricket added with a grin.
“Both of you, stop acting like children.” Breeta frowned, toying with a lacy yellow sleeve. “I made it here in the carriage, didn’t I?” She stepped onto the grass, a deep line still between her brows. Her dark hair was drawn into a low bun, and only a few fine lines creased her eyes.
Anika grabbed a large picnic basket from inside the carriage, and Cricket took it from her. Her shoulders dropped a little from the weight, and she wondered how much food her friend had packed. Anika plucked up a blanket and told the coachman they would be back in a little while.
As they walked toward the carnival tent, Breeta drew a glass vial from her bag and spilled a few drops of water on the ground. Blessed water—her superstitions still held strong.
Breeta’s hard face turned to Cricket as she muttered, “Seems the Dahlia Murderer is still taunting Nobel. Just when I thought we’d found relief from this nuisance, it continues. Bram has been on the case without barely any breaks, even when at home. He can hardly focus on anything else since the murders started.”
Cricket’s heart tightened as guilt knocked on it, yearning to break free of its cage. She wasn’t fond of how the woman used the word “nuisance” as if also blaming Cricket, the way the dead victims had in her nightmare... Breeta seemed to like her less than before, and while Cricket had always ignored the woman’s snotty words, it was harder at this moment. Even when Cricket was younger, she’d given her annoyed stares. She was a social climber, and because Cricket’s family didn’t have much either, she wasn’t worthy of her time.
As Cricket lifted the fabric of the tent, Breeta tugged her back by the arm. “I’m not going inside a tent. We can eat out here in the open.”
Cricket wanted to roll her eyes and tell her that devilish things only lurked behind the stage, but she held her tongue and asked Anika, “Are you fine with that?”
“I’m all right with anywhere,” Anika said as she unfolded the large blanket on the grass. “How are the other performers after everything?”
“They’re upset about losing money, but mostly just performing for an audience.” Cricket set the basket in the center and sat on the soft quilt. “I wish one of the performers at the carnival was a genuine seer. Not like the necromancer who—”
“Brings back the dead?” Breeta hissed, grasping her chest.
“Yes.” Only now, she couldn’t.
“Hmph. A pity another can’t be found to get answers from a victim.”
“I thought you believed it all to be the demons’ work.” Anika arched a brow at her mother.
“To get this demon off the streets, one might need to face another,” Breeta said as she opened the basket and took out a blueberry muffin.
Cricket was certain that Breeta would be content if Mistress Eliza could bring back a victim, if only to have Bram at home more often, due to her fear of them leaving one another and her ending up without money once more. But Cricket didn’t want to say it aloud and hurt her friend, even though Anika would know that already.
While Anika took out the remaining food, including meat and fruit pies, pastries, strawberries, grapes, and rolls, Cricket could barely concentrate on what Anika and Breeta were chatting about. Now that she was looking at Anika pouring water into glasses, all she could think about was the recent event at the pub. The body behind the building, the man’s chest being ripped open, and the desperate need to know if Bram would find out anything at all.
As Cricket forced down a slice of pie and a few grapes, she observed a handful of performers fiddling around on stilts while laughing in the distance. She hadn’t seen Mistress Eliza yet, and she hoped to avoid her for the remainder of the day, or until she could hone her curiosity and prove to the necromancer that she could be worth something.
