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Cricket didn’t look back at Autumn, nor the caravans, or the tents, or anything. She just ran, ran away from the carnival that she never should’ve been a part of, away from the lives she had ruined.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It wasn’t long before Cricket’s lungs burned and her legs grew heavy. The more she ran, the more she wished she had stolen a horse when she’d fled the carnival. She wore her wig, though, disguising herself the best she could while darting through the city, bumping into people as she passed. She ignored their stares and curses, taking a shortcut to venture into the poorer side of town. No longer were the buildings freshly painted, their windows free of cracks, or their roofs not in dire need of repair.
“Do you have any coin, Miss?” a young redheaded boy of maybe twelve with dirt smeared across his cheeks and hands asked. Cricket tried not to study the shade of his hair, the same color as Juniper’s.
She drew out two silver coins from her satchel, wishing she’d had more, but she’d given the money she’d won from the card game to Mistress Eliza. The boy tucked the coins into his pocket as if they were gold and thanked her when she hurried away. She went by a bakery with broken windows and a faded sign, which appeared to have been unoccupied for ages. Another man and woman, covered in grime, begged her for coin, but she couldn’t spare any more, not if she wanted to keep herself from starving.
A building that was clearly a brothel caught Cricket’s attention when a partially-dressed woman slurred at her, “You’re a pretty thing. You can work here unless you would rather come in for pleasure.”
Cricket avoided looking at anyone else as she passed a few more brothels and pubs. Out here, there were more brothels than anything. She finally reached the inn that she never would’ve considered staying in before, but with how cheap it was, she could remain there for more days if need be.
The inn didn’t look as decrepit as the other buildings. Other than being covered in muck, the windows were all in one piece, and black curtains blocked what was inside. Heavy smoke greeted her as she pulled open the creaking door, not just from cigars but something sweeter. She glanced at a mirror on the wall, finding her eyes red-rimmed and puffy.
Straightening her wig, she walked farther into the establishment. The front lobby held three rectangular tables, a few of their chairs missing. At one, a woman, her cleavage spilling out of her faded dress, sat in a gentleman’s lap, trailing kisses up his neck while he played cards with another. In the shadowed corner, a man groaned. She looked away as she watched him unfasten his trousers and lift a woman’s dress.
Cricket approached the empty front desk, waiting for someone to appear and give her a room.
“Albert!” one of the men at the table yelled. “You have a customer!”
It took a moment before a man smoking a cigar, muttering to himself, hobbled in from another room. His teeth were blackened, and his face tinged with red splotches.
“How long are you staying?” he asked, thick smoke curling from his cigar into her face.
“What will this get me?” Cricket opened her satchel and pushed aside the coin Zephyr had given her when they’d been in Sorel. She’d forgotten she still had it, yet now she never wanted to get rid of it. Slipping out four coins, she placed them on the counter in front of him. The pearl necklace she’d never gotten to give to Juniper was still in there, but she wanted to save it for when she became more desperate.
The man slid the coins around with his pudgy fingers as if he were playing a game of chess. “A few days,” he grunted. “But we can always renegotiate after that if you want. I’m sure we can accommodate such a lovely lady. That is if she’s willing to be accommodating in return….” His eyes met hers, a ravenous hunger flickering there.
Cricket’s stomach churned at what the man would want in exchange. “A few days will do for now,” she finally said and took the key from him.
The wooden stairs hidden in the opposite corner of where the couple pleasured one another groaned as she ascended them. There was only the filthy wall to balance against, the banister splintered and missing.
As she turned down the hall, dark stains covered the frayed carpet, and she found the door to her room resting at the end. A few beds squeaked while eager moans spilled out into the hallway.
She locked the door to her room behind her as soon as she entered. A musky odor struck her nose, but at least it wasn’t too pungent. The sleeping space was simple—a small bed without a headboard rested against one wall, a wooden chair cloaked in a thin layer of dust tucked in the corner, and a tall wardrobe, its doors missing, lingered beside it. A dingy curtain covered a cramped nook with a chamber pot.
Cricket propped the wooden chair against the door as another line of defense. Pathetic or not. She dropped her bag beside the bed and sank down onto the mattress. The sheets scratched her bare arms when she leaned back, and she wasn’t certain if they’d been washed, but it didn’t matter. It couldn’t be any worse than when she was still alive, albeit asleep, below ground.
Taking a deep breath, Cricket pressed her back against the wall. She didn’t know what her next step would be—she didn’t even know what she would do here. The only other place she could’ve gone would’ve been Bram’s, and she didn’t want to explain to him or Anika how it was her fault that one of the kindest women she’d ever met was dead because of her. But they would know soon enough—if they didn’t already.
The bastard who did it was still out there, and Cricket didn’t know what else to do. She had unintentionally lured them back to the carnival, but it hadn’t been to taunt her in the way she’d expected. Cricket sobbed into her hands and drew her knees to her chest, crying harder. She had no right to let these tears fall, yet she couldn’t hold them back.
Cricket wasn’t certain how much time had passed—she didn’t have her pocket watch with her. But she knew it had been a long while since her stomach continued to growl. There wasn’t much food in her bag besides a few pieces of jerky and a soft apple that she might need later, and if she’d thought about it more, she would’ve grabbed a few extra things, including her pocket watch that she knew was resting on Zephyr’s shelf.
Before venturing downstairs, she changed out of the clothing she’d been wearing at the carnival, then tucked Zephyr’s shirt neatly inside her bag. The inn didn’t serve food, so she went across the street to a pub and ordered a bowl of porridge. It was cold and watery, but she polished off the bowl before returning to the inn.
As she pushed open the door to her room, a white folded paper laying on the floor caught her attention. Her gaze darted around the small area, and she drew out her knife while slowly snatching up the note to unfold it. Heart pounding, she read the words scrawled in the same cursive that was becoming achingly familiar.
I see you fled the carnival, Cricket. But do you really think you can hide?
Cricket’s hand shook, and she tiptoed toward the bed, then yanked the fabric up to peer underneath. Empty. She shoved the curtains leading to the chamber pot aside and discovered the small space clear. Glancing out into the hallway, she looked side to side before stepping out.
She darted downstairs to find the man at the front desk. “Did you see anyone go up the stairs or come down earlier?”
“I saw you, but I wasn’t here the whole time. Why?”
“Never mind.” Cricket hurried back up the staircase and locked herself in her room. Just as she pulled out her knife, a clawing sensation stirred within her. “Not now!” she hissed.
