by Ksenia Anske
Rosehead
Ksenia Anske
Copyright © 2014 by Ksenia Anske
http://www.kseniaanske.com/
All rights reserved.
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Print edition:
ISBN-13: 978-1497431065
ISBN-10: 1497431069
For mom, whose stories inspired this one.
Contents
Rosehead The Grim Arrival
The Mandatory Dinner
The Moving Mansion
Through The Arbor
The Talking Heads
On The Scent
The Bloom Heir
Ed’s Story
Panther’s Liberation
Gabby’s Wrath
The Ordinary Morning
The Emergency Ballet Escapade
The Red Gallery
Jürgen’s Paintings
The Unexpected Interrogation
The Risky Plan
The Grand Return
The Fortuitous Ally
Rosehead’s Secret
The Desperate Warning
The Fatal Therapy Session
Alfred’s True Colors
Petra’s Diversion
Up the Oak Tree
The Daring Face-Off
The Repugnant Birth
The Mad Gardener
The Generous Offer
The Dramatic Reunion
The Unsuccessful Plan
The Book’s Advice
Agatha’s Pledge
Lilith’s Sacrifice
The Dazzling End
The Somber Remains
The Glorious Departure
rosehead rohz-hed noun 1: a many-sided pyramidal head upon a nail; also a nail with such a head
“Her eyes and hair were of the same rich hazel colour, and her cheeks, though considerably freckled, were flushed with the exquisite bloom of the brunette, the dainty pink which lurks at the heart of the sulphur rose.”
— Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles
Chapter 1
The Grim Arrival
Lilith Bloom had a peculiar feeling that the rose garden wanted to eat her. She surveyed it through the open car window, unable to look away. The garden seemed to survey her back. It was enormous. Its red blanket surrounded a solitary mansion at the end of Rose Street, Rosenstrasse in German. No other houses stood in sight, only a distant forest. Apart from tires grating on the gravel, it was eerily quiet, too quiet for a hot summer afternoon.
Their rental sedan pulled into the motor court in front of the mansion, joining a long line of cars. A sudden gust of wind washed over Lilith’s face. She expected it to smell like roses. Instead, it reeked of rotten sweetness, of something decomposing Lilith rolled up her window.
“Panther,” she whispered.
No answer.
“Panther Bloom Junior! Will you kindly wake up?”
She shook the black shape curled to her left. The shape yawned, revealing a long tongue and rows of pearly teeth, then promptly sat up and blinked. It wasn’t exactly a dog, not in the most typical sense of how one would describe it. It was a cat in a dog’s body. In proper canine terms, it was a whippet, Lilith’s pet and only friend. He possessed a unique gift. He talked, as Lilith ascertained her parents. Of course, they refused to believe her.
Lilith’s father, Daniel Bloom, an avid whippet breeder and dog race enthusiast, deemed Panther as the runt of the litter. Too softhearted to part with the puppy, he gave it to Lilith last summer for her twelfth birthday. Since then, they’d become inseparable, disappearing on long walks in Boston neighborhoods and arriving this fine sunny day in Berlin, after Lilith point-blank refused to go anywhere without Panther, especially not to the Bloom family reunion at her grandfather’s house.
“You’d think a herd of elephants died here,” she whispered.
Panther raised a brow.
No matter how much Lilith pleaded with him to talk in front of her parents, he viciously disapproved of the idea, lest they parade him in some freak show like an otherworldly miracle.
“Don’t look at me like that. I hate it when you don’t answer,” Lilith said, loudly enough for her parents to hear. They exchanged a painful glance.
“Here we are, my puppies. Looks like we made the cut,” said Daniel Bloom cheerfully, attempting to diffuse the mood. When nervous, he spoke in dog show lingo.
“Lilith, did you take your pills?” said Gabby Bloom, as she twisted in the passenger seat and gazed at her daughter through metal-rimmed glasses, her fingers momentarily paused from knitting.
Panther studied Lilith.
Lilith studied the front seat. “I thought we agreed that pills are for sick people, Mother. I must assure you that currently I don’t feel sick in the slightest.”
“Don’t take that tone with me, missy. Look at me when I talk to you. I asked you a question. Did you or didn’t you?”
Panther continued to study Lilith.
Lilith continued to study the seat.
Gabby’s lower lip trembled. She looked like a lost squirrel perched on top of a roof, not knowing how she got there or how to get down. Her brown hair could pass for fur standing on end.
“Lilith, don’t be puppyish. Answer your mother,” Daniel muttered while patting his pockets to look busy.
An awkward silence filled the car.
“I flushed them down the toilet, on the plane. By accident. They’re excruciatingly slippery,” Lilith said with an innocent expression on her face. She liked using sophisticated words like excruciatingly to purposefully annoy her mother.
“You what? Daniel, are you listening? Did you hear what she said?” Gabby faced her husband.
He squinted at something out the window. “I’m sure she didn’t mean for it to happen, love. We just crossed the Atlantic, effectively gaining six extra hours. She can skip a day, can’t she? For time adjustment purposes?”
“That’s ten dollars down the drain! Have you forgotten what happened last time?” Gabby’s hands performed an intricate dance of opening her bag, taking out rolls of wool, one half-knit sweater, another half-knit sweater, a handful of needles, and an orange vial of pills.
Lilith and Panther exchanged a glance.
Gabby stuffed the vial into her daughter’s hands and watched her reluctantly open it and take out two blue capsules.
“Now,” she said.
Lilith stuck the pills under her tongue, miming a fake swallow.
Meanwhile, escaping his wife’s mounting fury, Daniel stepped out of the car and busied himself with the luggage. Tall and scrawny, he looked like a whippet himself, missing perhaps only the tail.
Eager to spit out the bitter tablets, Lilith made to follow.
“Wait a second, missy. Show me your tongue.” Gabby leaned in for closer inspection.
Lilith opened her mouth and, without dislodging the pills, said with a practiced smile, “Sorry, Mom.”
“Do not do this again.”
“I won
’t.”
“Good. Out you go. We’re late as it is.” Gabby hurried out of the car, her motherly duty done.
Lilith and Panther exchanged another glance and clambered out, looking around. They were at the end of a perfectly round courtyard crammed with cars of all types, their inexpensive rental the very last.
Lilith stood with a triumphant smile on her face. Slender and petite, she dressed meticulously. Taking forever to pick out clothes calmed her whirring mind, although it caused Panther to lose his. Today she sported a navy skirt, a striped sailor shirt, red Mary Janes, and a matching beret knitted by her mother.
Lilith had a collection of these. A rosy one for ballet lessons, a black one for walking Panther, a blue one for reading, and a red one for special occasions. Festive outings rarely happened in her life, but whenever they did, she always wore red, for confidence.
Lilith peered into her handbag, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. She confirmed her dog-shaped wallet with a few dollars in it, a pack of tissues, a leotard, a tutu, ballet tights, slippers, three berets, a journal, a pen, and a book. Always a book. Presently it was Arthur Canon Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles, a corner bent on page thirteen.
Warm wind ruffled her hair. Lilith took out a tissue and buried her face in it, overwhelmed by the sickening scent of rose mixed with other decaying sweetness.
“Lilith? You okay?” Daniel peered at his daughter, but in another second, he was distracted by a stout figure that emerged from behind heavy front doors and approached them with outstretched arms.
“Ah! Daniel...Gabby...Lilith. I see you made it. Come in, come in. We’re about to start dinner.”
Firm and charming, with a barely discernable accent, the voice belonged to Alfred Bloom, Lilith’s paternal grandfather, still handsome for his age. Tufts of white hair crowned his head, but this is where the jolly illusion ended. His eyes glinted steel.
Suppressing an odd urge to run, Lilith scrutinized her grandfather, the famous rose gardener who commanded astronomical prices for his flowers, supplying them fresh all over the world for weddings, funerals, and everything in between. Rumor had it that he fed his garden a special secret fertilizer. None of his competitors could match the beauty of his roses, the length of their life, the brilliance of their color, or the strength of their bouquet.
That, however, didn’t concern Lilith at the moment. She even forgot about the smell, letting the tissue slip out of her hand. What concerned her stood beside her grandfather’s leg.
“Excuse me, but that is not a dog. That is, dare I say it, a monster,” she whispered.
The monster was a big, pewter-colored mastiff, rolls of skin in place of a head, thick paws stepping in tempo with its master’s polished shoes, haunches rising and falling menacingly. If Panther looked like a cat, this thing looked like a bear. It looked at the girl as if studying her like food.
Lilith swiftly picked up her pet.
“Did I mention I eat mastiffs for breakfast?” Panther growled into her ear, his first spoken words since they’d arrived.
“Unless it slurps you down as an apéritif first,” said Lilith.
“Incidentally, I’m too bony for that,” growled Panther.
“I don’t think he would care.”
“I understand that you love me very much, but may I ask you to loosen your grip a little? It’s rather hard to breathe.” Panther produced kind of a doggy smile.
Lilith narrowed her eyes and unclenched her arms. Before Panther could mutter another sarcastic remark, a balding butler emerged and took the mastiff away, to Lilith’s immense relief. Greetings were exchanged in both German and English, hands were shaken, and luggage was both wheeled to the porch steps and carried over. Alfred Bloom loudly professed his desire to take care of his granddaughter and ushered Daniel and Gabby inside to join the rest of the Bloom family, who’d arrived that morning and were now unpacked and waiting for dinner.
Apprehensive of crowds, Lilith hoped she could hide in her room until this parade ended and she was flying home, back to her books, ballet lessons, and walks with Panther.
“Lilith, my dear,” Alfred beckoned her.
She took a tentative step forward, when a shiver went through her, a premonition. She looked at the mansion, a big rectangular block of stone, about a hundred feet long, with its narrow windows and central tower rising from the roof like the bud of a rose. It didn’t feel welcome. It felt like a tomb that came alive at night, devouring everything in its wake. Red roses only added to the illusion, making the garden look like a pool of blood.
“Do you think it’s carnivorous? The mansion?” whispered Lilith.
Panther sniffed at the air. “Rather scavenging, judging by the smell. The place stinks like a dump.”
Alfred called again.
It wasn’t polite to drag her feet any longer. Lilith sighed, clasped Panther tighter, and forced herself up the steps and into the chatter of guests, the tinkling of wine glasses, and an otherwise merry concoction of noises usually associated with big fancy dinners.
Chapter 2
The Mandatory Dinner
Doors snapped behind Lilith like jaws, making her jump. A crystal chandelier reminiscent of an inverted rose dangled from the ceiling. Alfred Bloom stood with an affixed smile, leaning against the fireplace mantelpiece. Two grand marble staircases snaked up to the second floor. On the left, a long empty hall ended in a cascade of glass doors leading into the garden. On the right, in an identical hall, a crowd of people milled about, settling down for dinner.
“Well...look at you, all grown up.” Alfred took a step toward Lilith and her every bone cried to run, but she stood her ground. It wasn’t polite to behave like a scared little girl in front of your grandfather now, was it? Panther bit on her arm for encouragement. Lilith pinched him back with affection.
“Hello,” she said timidly.
“Last time I saw you, you were...oh, about this big?” Alfred’s palm hovered mid-thigh.
“A few inches higher, actually. I was almost three years old, Grandfather,” Lilith said sweetly.
“You used to call me Opa. Grandpa in German.” Alfred stretched his lips. Under other circumstances, it might have passed for a smile. His silky accent and annoying pauses brought Lilith back ten years, to her grandmother’s funeral. Terrifying images floated up from her memory like photographs: black crowd, white faces, and blood-red roses.
“Please excuse me, Grandfather, but I don’t seem to recall that. I do remember one other thing,” Lilith said, pausing for dramatic effect, “the lovely smell of your roses.”
Panther perked up his ears.
“And how, exactly, did they smell?” Alfred inquired.
“Dad? You with Lilith? We’re waiting,” came from the dinner hall.
“Coming, my dear! Your daughter is distracting me with her charm,” Alfred shouted back. “Well, looks like it’s dinner time. And what is this...creature?” He pointed to the whippet.
“Oh, excuse me. I thought dad told you. Let me introduce you. Panther—Grandfather. Grandfather—Panther.”
Panther grinned a sinister row of teeth.
Alfred’s face lost its color. “I’m afraid...we’ll have to put, um, Panther, where he belongs.” He snapped his fingers. “GUSTAV!”
A tall bald man hurtled out of nowhere on shaky legs, his head shining with years of polished servitude. Lilith recognized him as the one who took the mastiff away.
“Herr Bloom?” Gustav squeezed between watery lips.
Alfred fired off something in German.
Lilith opened her mouth to ask what he meant, when Gustav unceremoniously yanked the dog out of her grip and, accompanied by Panther’s protestant barking, carried him off.
“Panther! No! Give him back!” Lilith called, bewildered. “Where is he taking him?” She made to run after them.
“Why...to where dogs belong, of course. To the dog house. Shall we?” Alfred snatched her arm and wheeled her around. His close presence ove
rwhelmed her senses with that same sickening smell, and his rudeness left her temporarily speechless.
They entered the dinner hall. It dazzled with its size and splendor. Numerous floor vases held rose bouquets of every possible shade of red: from burgundy, to cardinal, to shockingly bright carmine. They issued a pleasant and, thankfully, appropriate fragrance. A dinner table stood in the middle of the room, with a dozen people milling about. Lilith gasped for air, forcing herself to cool down. Her heart jumped out of her chest and her instincts screamed to run, but she was not the running kind. Years of being taunted at school taught her an excellent winning technique. By staying annoyingly sweet and calm she could drive anyone nuts, especially her mother.
Her grandfather certainly deserved a dose of sweetness.
“Please excuse my outburst. I should’ve thanked you for taking care of my pet. That was terribly inconsiderate of me.” Lilith sighed theatrically, attempting to edge away.
“Well...I’m impressed. You’ve got excellent manners.” Alfred sounded bemused. “Who taught you, my dear?”
“Why, my pet, of course,” said Lilith coolly, still wounded from parting with Panther in such a rude manner and thinking that, if her grandfather kept treating her like an idiot, she would quickly lose her polite demeanor.
Guests noticed their presence.
Lilith’s parents waved.
A loud call cut above the other voices. “Zere iz ze child!” An elephantine woman sheathed in a violet dress, excessive makeup plastered over her face, broke off from a circle of talking people and strolled toward them, pulling two preteen girls behind. Lilith immediately decided that she didn’t like her.
“At last. Mama found ze child for you, meine mädchens.” Her jowls jiggling, the woman huffed and puffed on arrival, addressing her twin daughters, who were fat, blond, and ugly.
“Excuse me, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t call me a child.” Lilith pointed one foot like a ballerina. It gave her a certain confidence. “I’m not a child. I’m an adult trapped in a child’s body.” She smiled sweetly.
