by Ksenia Anske
“I—did—not—make—him—anything,” said Lilith, her head throbbing. She was tired of unfound accusations, tired of being treated like a sick child, tired of people not understanding her when she tried to relate things she saw or heard or smelled.
“Between your grandfather and you, who do you think has more credibility? A well respected businessman, perfectly sane for his age, or a twelve-year-old girl who’s severely disabled—”
“Gabby!” cried Daniel in horror.
“What? She needs to accept the truth. It’s a dog-eat-dog world, you say so yourself. I don’t want her growing up wearing rose-colored glasses.”
Lilith seethed.
Gabby’s lips trembled. “Who do you think I’ll believe after you feed me stories about children’s skulls buried in the garden?”
That did it.
Unable to hold back anymore, on an insane impulse to make her mother pay attention to the real her and not to the disabled daughter who requires medical care, Lilith screamed.
“He’s a murderer!” She took a deep breath and screamed louder. “GRANDFATHER IS A MURDERER! HE KILLS PEOPLE AND FEEDS THEM TO THE GARDEN! THERE IS A BUSH WOMAN WHO LIVES THERE! THAT’S HIS SECRET. IT’S WHY HIS ROSES ARE SO RED. DON’T YOU GET IT? THEY FEED ON PEOPLE’S BLOOD!”
Dead silence fell over the room.
Lilith had a sneaky suspicion that Trude Brandt, her elderly neighbor, was eavesdropping from their shared bathroom. She heard a pair of slippers shuffle across the floor and out the door. The old lady no doubt went to spread the news about Alfred Bloom’s mental granddaughter.
“Well, the squirrel is out of the bag,” muttered Lilith.
Panther gave her a disapproving look.
Seconds stretched. Lilith wished she could put on her rosy beret to do ballet moves, or the blue one to escape into The Hound of the Baskervilles, anything but suffer this pressing silence.
“Well?” said Gabby, sniffling. “What do we do now?”
“Pup, you okay?” asked Daniel.
Lilith’s parents proceeded along their usual pattern. Mother screams, father endures, father cajoles, mother cries.
Daniel sat next to her, feeling her forehead. “Sleep okay?”
Lilith decided she had nothing else to lose and went for the truth. “Nope.”
“You didn’t? Did you have another nightmare?” He took off her beret and smoothed her hair.
“It wasn’t a nightmare. It was real.”
“What was it?”
“Well...grandfather killed his housekeeper, Agatha, his cook, Monika, and two guests, Sabrina and Norman Rosenthal, then he lined them up on the back porch and chopped their heads off.”
Panther stuck his nose under a pillow.
Daniel passed a hand through his hair.
Gabby leaned on the wall and covered her mouth.
“Want me to continue?” Lilith asked politely.
“Sure, sure, go ahead.”
“Okay. The heads came alive on the wall, right there,” she said as she pointed, “and told me that grandfather will chop off my head too, if I won’t sleep. They said I’m guest number thirteen, which is supposed to be a very unlucky number. Then they disappeared. That’s the nightmare part. The reality part is Panther thinks that the mansion likes me and is trying to tell me something, because those heads weren’t really real, they’re part of the mansion. It can morph into them. Ed has seen them too. Oh, and Monika told Panther something big is going to happen, in the garden. Ed’s dad said—before he died—he said that the mansion—” Lilith broke off.
Her parents stopped listening. They launched into a hushed exchange about arranging for Lilith to sleep in their room and calling a local doctor first thing in the morning. She was definitely getting a dose of sleeping pills tonight.
A knock made them look up. The door opened, and there stood brightly smiling Petra inviting them to dinner and wondering if Lilith would be taken to a madhouse before or after.
“Bad news spreads faster than a squirrel running away from wildfire,” Lilith whispered.
By the authority of her mother, Panther was left behind, and both parents marched Lilith out of the room and into the dining hall. She noticed a sharp contrast in the atmosphere. Whereas earlier guests vied for her attention, now they parted around her like a cold river, throwing pitiful looks or beaming in that artificial manner one smiles at crazy people. Even the Schlitzberger twins turned civil, their knees covered with purple bandages.
“Good evening, Lilith, how are you?” Daphne said, prompted by a nudge from her mother.
“Thank you for using my correct name. I’m splendid. Never been better,” said Lilith, pulling out a chair. “How about yourself?”
“Good.” That took another nudge.
“Your coat matches your face,” Gwen chimed in under the studying glance of her mother.
“Does it?” Lilith looked at her black cardigan.
“Ooh-la-la! Nice compliment, mein mädchen.” Irma kissed Gwen on the temple, at which she beamed and stuck out her tongue at her sister. Lilith wanted to puke, desperately wishing for Ed to appear. Instead, Alfred Bloom waltzed in, the scratches on his face dressed and barely visible.
At his entrance chatter ceased. He inadvertently joined the laughing stock club. How could a man of such stature write off everything the family owned to a girl who isn’t right in her mind? Does this mean he didn’t know? Does this mean he might change his mind? Eager whispers broke out. Even Lilith’s parents bent their heads together, no doubt discussing their daughter’s bleak future.
The floor moved.
“Here we go again,” Lilith muttered, not bothering to see if anyone noticed. The entire hall sped down. Black night behind the windows turned to underground darkness. The mansion seemed to rearrange itself to close...
“Like a flower.” Lilith’s skin broke into goose bumps. “It’s closing for the night like a flower. A rose. What if its rooms are petals—” She felt a stare and looked up.
Alfred studied Lilith from across the table, as if saying, You talked. I asked you not to talk.
Lilith’s heart plummeted.
Her grandfather raised a wine glass and tinkled on it with a fork. Everyone stopped talking, expectant.
“My dear guests, I would like to propose a toast.” He stood. “I’d like to drink to my only granddaughter, Lilith, future heir to the Bloom property.”
Lilith froze. What was he up to?
“I’m sure she will do an excellent job. I’d like to ask you to be gentle with her. Adolescents are especially prone to the debilitating side effects of jetlag. It was a long journey from Boston to Berlin, wasn’t it, my dear girl?”
Lilith nodded, experiencing a strange connection to her grandfather. For a second, it didn’t matter what evil things he did, he was the only adult who didn’t think her delirious.
Everyone looked at her. She stood.
“Er...yes, it was, dear Grandfather,” Lilith said uncertainly. “However, it’s a miniscule price to pay for the exaltation of my stay.” Seized by inspiration, she stood taller. “To spend a week of wonder and enchantment in a rose garden that seems to live and breathe.”
A muscle twitched in her grandfather’s jaw.
“The splendor, the aroma, the vastness of it. I’m at a loss for words. I bow in gratitude for your offer.” She bent.
A collective sigh washed over the room and exploded in applause and congratulations. Even her parents clapped. Lilith’s face turned hot.
“Does this mean you accept my offer?” asked Alfred, putting her on the spot in front of everyone.
“Was there ever any doubt, dear Grandfather?” she retorted, her gut telling her not to say yes, no matter what.
“I would like a yes, please,” he said coldly.
“A toast! A toast for the heir! I’d like to propose a toast!” Norman Rosenthal boomed, already tipsy.
Much jovial banter and drinking followed.
Relieved, Lilith sat.<
br />
Alfred stared her down in an open warning.
Lilith smiled back. Yes, Grandfather, I talked. And I will talk more, because I declare war. I think I have a pretty good idea about what it is you’re feeding to your garden, and I intend to stop you.
Chapter 11
The Ordinary Morning
The night proved uneventful. Gabby and Daniel stood over their daughter until she swallowed two sleeping pills and passed out on a guest daybed brought into their room. Lilith saw no dreams and woke to the grumble of trucks and Panther licking her face. She yawned and propped herself up, wondering about the commotion. Both her parents snored quietly. Layers of white covers separated them down the middle, their faces turned to opposite sides.
“Did you hit me with a thousand pillows? Because it feels like it,” Lilith said, rubbing her eyes.
“No, only with one cow, and only because I’m a dog and don’t know any better,” Panther growled under his breath, to make sure he wasn’t overheard.
“What? Oh, that. I’m sorry, okay? What else was I supposed to say?”
“Good morning, for starters.”
“Good morning.”
“And you still owe me steak.” Panther curled his tail and gamboled to the window.
Lilith stumbled behind him.
It rained. The air smelled of dust and warm summer. Water seemed to have washed the stink away. Lilith took a deep breath, watching a slew of activity unfold below.
Her parents’ room faced the motor court. Several large Bloom & Co. freighters occupied most of it. Workers in red uniforms loaded them with crates full of roses, to be shipped all over the world.
People paid astronomical amounts of money for Bloom & Co. flowers. While a typical rose lasted up to twelve days, a Bloom & Co. rose lived for over a month. It didn’t wilt and its blossom was perfectly round, ranging in shade from light scarlet to deep ruby. Never losing its color, after a month it dried out and was reused in dry bouquets. No wedding, no funeral, no important celebration was possible without Bloom’s roses. They became a legend, started in thirteenth century by Ludwig Bloom who stumbled on a wild growth of bushes and settled to culture them.
Lilith heard this story from her mother numerous times. Her father could care less. He was out of touch with Alfred Bloom precisely for the reason of not wanting to continue the family business, migrating to America to breed whippets, the very creatures his father despised.
Lilith took another lungful of air.
It was an ordinary morning, and she desperately wished for it to stay this way. First, the house wasn’t moving. Second, the usual rotten sweetness in the air was replaced by the delicate fragrance of roses, the type you’d expect to dwell in a florist’s shop. And third, there were no weird noises, no chopping sounds, no sighs, no—
Something, or someone, knocked on the roof.
Lilith jumped, her heart hammering. “Did you hear that?”
“I heard several things,” Panther growled between licks. “One of them was your question on whether or not I heard that, depending, of course, what that in your universe means, because in my universe—”
Gabby mumbled and turned over. The mattress creaked. Both Lilith and Panther froze. Neither of them wanted to spoil the morning. It took several painful minutes for Gabby’s breath to slow down, when another sharp knock made Lilith start.
She looked at Panther. He shrugged, as much as you can imagine a whippet shrugging. More knocks rained down in a rapid staccato. Curious, Lilith leaned out and craned her neck to look, which was a very bad idea, because that same moment the ordinary morning came to an end.
A huge crow took off from the roof and swooped down, cawing. Lilith shielded her face, lost hold of the windowsill, and nearly toppled out onto the trucks below. The crow nabbed her head and zoomed into the garden, complaining all the way.
“Owwww!” Lilith cried, slipping.
Panther seized the bottom of her pajamas, but only ripped them. Lilith felt her feet lift, when a hand caught her.
“Lilith! What on earth are you doing?” The wrath of Gabby Bloom came at last.
“Feeding—crows—with—my—blood,” she squeezed in between gasps. “Good morning to you too, Mother.” Lilith slumped to the floor.
“You realize you could’ve fallen out the window? What are you, five?” Gabby glared, arms akimbo. “Cut it out, or I’ll ask Alfred to lock you up.”
Panther whined.
“He acts like he understands.”
“He does, Mom.”
Panther barked again.
“I said, cut it out! Both of you.”
Lilith recoiled. “You should open up a club with grandfather and call it Whippet Haters,” she whispered, scooping up Panther.
“What did you say?”
“What’s going on?” Daniel shuffled up, yawning. “Pup, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that—”
“Your daughter managed to get in trouble before breakfast, that’s what. She almost fell out the window.”
“She what?”
“Your grandfather was right, missy. I think it best you stayed in your room today. No need to go out in the garden in this weather anyway.” She propped up her glasses.
“But Mom—” Lilith began.
“No buts. You will stay in your room and that’s the end of it, you hear me?”
“But I—”
“You’re bleeding!” Daniel cried, as he kneeled next to Lilith and examined her head. “Love, did you see this?” He wiped the blood with the sleeve of his pajamas.
“Of course I saw. Not like she doesn’t deserve it.”
“Gabby!”
“It will teach her not to hang out of windows first thing in the morning, before brushing her teeth and getting dressed. Which reminds me...” She disappeared into the bathroom.
“Pup, can you tell me what happened?”
“I was just—”
“I told you what happened,” said Gabby crossly, coming back with a glass of water and two tablets, which she shoved into Lilith’s hands.
“I want to hear it from Lilith.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“I do trust you. Can I have a minute with my daughter?”
“Our daughter.”
“Okay. Our daughter.”
Both parents peered at her.
“Um.” Lilith was cornered. No matter what she did, she knew they would wait until both capsules dissolved in her stomach, sending the drug to work. She decided to succumb to her fate, when a rap on the door made Gabby and Daniel look away, giving Lilith a perfect opportunity to throw the pills over her head and begin chugging the water, her face a mask of innocence.
“Good morning, Mister and Missis Bloom. Breakfast iz ready,” said Agatha.
By the time her parents turned back, Lilith finished the water. It worked. They didn’t ask questions.
After cleaning blood from Lilith’s hair and listening to her story, Daniel disappeared into the bathroom, and Gabby launched into a lecture on Lilith’s behavior.
Panther studied the ceiling. Lilith studied Panther.
The bathroom door opened. Lilith darted inside, dragging along her messenger bag. Since she declared war on her grandfather, she needed to solve the garden’s mystery. A shower alone wouldn’t do. A serious investigation required an emergency ballet practice. Lilith wiped herself with a towel, dried her hair, and expertly donned ballet tights, slippers, a leotard, a tutu, and her rosy beret. She checked herself in the mirror, stepped out of the bathroom, and halted.
Her parents sat on the bed. Her father rocked her mother like a child, back and forth, her face red and puffy from tears. Lilith had never seen her mother in this state. She’d seen her cry, but it was usually for show. This looked real.
They started.
Gabby looked away, wiping her face.
Daniel cleared his throat. “Washed all the blood out, did you?”
“I most certainly did.” Som
ething stirred in Lilith’s chest. “Mom? Dad?”
“Yeah?” said Daniel.
“I was thinking, and, I wanted to...” She sighed. “I’m sorry I’m such a nuisance. I know it takes a toll on you, looking after me, making me take my medicine and all.”
Panther gave Lilith a puzzled stare.
Daniel sighed. “You’re not a nuisance. We love you, pup.”
“Love you too,” said Lilith, studying her mother.
Gabby sniffled, trotted to her daughter, and pecked her on the cheek. “Don’t. Don’t look at me like this. I look terrible.” She propped up her glasses. “I’m so worried about you, you see what it does to me?”
You’re worried about my physical wellbeing, you mean, Lilith wanted to say, not my emotional wellbeing, of which you have no idea. Neither of you. I wish you’d listen to me, if only once. Wish you’d believe me. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, she kissed her mother back and returned her father’s clumsy hug.
A few minutes later, she was in her room. Daniel took Panther on a walk and brought him back, to Lilith’s immense relief. Agatha showed up with a tray of steaming waffles and a bowl of chopped up steak. Lilith was to stay locked up all day and eat in her room, while her parents sought Alfred’s help in finding an English speaking psychotherapist who specialized in extreme cases of adolescent mental disorders.
On the cusp of turning thirteen, Lilith had already been through four specialists before landing on Dr. Crawford, who stuck. Lilith suspected it was not because her treatment made any difference, but because Dr. Corby Crawford adored her mother’s knitting skills, which caused her mother to adore Dr. Crawford’s therapeutic skills in return.
Panther licked his bowl clean and burped. “You know, I’m faced with a very difficult decision.”
“What’s that?” said Lilith, chewing a waffle.
“I can’t decide whom I loathe more, your mother or your grandfather.”
