Rosehead

by Ksenia Anske

  Lilith felt a chunk of ice slide into her stomach. “Saturday. Panther, what day is today?”

  The whippet took his sweet time answering. “Generally, dogs are not supposed to know days of the week. I, however, happen to have studied—”

  “Oh, come on, you don’t need to prove to me that you’re the smartest dog on earth. You’re genius, brilliant, super-intelligent, canny, clever, and keen. And I love you more than anything or anyone, always and forever, with my whole heart, okay?” She scooped up her pet and kissed him. He licked her cheek. Thus their peace was sealed, for the moment.

  “Thursday, I think,” Panther growled happily. “We arrived on Monday. It’s our fourth night here.”

  “Right,” echoed Lilith. “That means we have one day left to figure things out, and that’s tomorrow. Whatever it is that’s due, is happening on Saturday.” Her eyes widened.

  Panther coughed. “Since I’m supposed to be the sounding board, may I voice my opinion?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you. I’d like to point out one very important fact.” He cleared his throat. “I may be a young dog, but even a young dog knows that we live in the twenty-first century.” Panther paused.

  “And your point is?” Lilith raised an eyebrow.

  “My point is, in the twenty-first century most children know that sticking their finger into a book and deeming whatever is written in it as the accurate prediction of the future is, how to say it politely, not necessarily a good idea. Books are not exactly the right tools for that sort of thing.”

  “Oh, I see. May I add to your statement?”

  Panther tilted his head, which in dog was a nod.

  “Well, in the twenty-first century most children are not aware of the fact that houses can move, gardens can eat people, and, oh, dare I forget, dogs can talk.” She crossed her arms.

  Panther shifted uncomfortably.

  “I also believe that writers write books to connect our minds. No matter what they write, it’s our collective knowledge preserved on pages, so any word from any book happens to be a word of wisdom,” she added.

  “Fine. You win,” Panther rumbled. “Can I try?”

  Lilith triumphantly offered him the book.

  Panther nudged through pages with his nose and pressed it at random.

  Lilith read aloud. “The moon was shining bright upon the clearing, and there in the centre lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear and fatigue.”

  By a curious coincidence, the moon trespassed the clouds at the same precise moment. Lilith startled. “My grandmother,” she said breathlessly. “It’s about my grandmother Eugenia. She must have gotten lost and—”

  A hideous noise pierced the night. The entire mansion groaned and moaned and stretched. Miraculously, Trude Brandt didn’t offer a peep in the wake of this racket. Lilith gripped the blanket, staring at the spot above the headboard. It swelled like a balloon filled with water. Thin lines formed a web until a fissure ran swiftly from floor to ceiling and the wall split open. In the darkness beyond, something resembling a gigantic rose clawed its way to freedom.

  Lilith held on to Panther, Panther held on to Lilith. They sat stock still, mesmerized.

  Chunks of plaster flew, dust swirled in the air. A slithering sound signified the passage of something long and twisted. The heads emerged, bringing with them that characteristic stench of the garden. There were more of them this time. They hung from enormous stems like flower buds.

  “I told you he’ll chop off your head if you won’t sleep, didn’t I?” Agatha’s raspy voice filled the room. Lilith couldn’t answer, staring at one head in particular.

  “Do you see...” she croaked.

  Panther whined nervously.

  The head in question smiled at them. Lilith pinched herself, wanting to wake up from this horrific dream, because that head belonged...that head belonged...to her, with Gwen’s and Daphne’s flanking it on either side. Worse, it had on her rosy beret.

  Lilith touched her face, to make sure it was still there.

  “Hello,” said the head. “Excuse me. Do you terribly mind adjusting my beret? It keeps sliding down.”

  Lilith, cold sweat breaking out on her skin, crawled over in a trance and pulled the beret slightly back, before scurrying back to the trembling Panther.

  “Oh, thank you. This is so much better,” said Lilith’s head.

  “I’m thirsty,” said Daphne’s.

  “Yeah, can we have more water?” chimed in Gwen’s.

  On unbending legs, Lilith made it to the bathroom and back, a full glass quivering in her hand.

  “Don’t just stand there, little miss, go on.”

  Seeing Lilith’s uncertainty, Monika’s head said encouragingly, “Just pour it on us, meine kleine.”

  Lilith did. She watered them like flowers, glass after glass, and the more she poured, the more they demanded, growing into a gigantic bush with human heads in place of blooms and canes in place of arms, torsos merging and disappearing into the darkness. The ceiling dropped lower, the walls shifted closer, and Lilith could’ve sworn that she was no longer in a guest room but in a grotesquely intertwined garden.

  The heads advanced, rustling like leaves on a breeze, and both girl and dog retreated until there was nowhere else to go.

  “You still think watering it was a good idea?” hissed Panther from the corner of his muzzle.

  “At least now we have someone else to talk to about Rosehead,” whispered Lilith.

  “So that was your brilliant plan? I see. Excellent. Why don’t you go ahead and ask them?”

  “And so I will,” said Lilith, clearing her throat. “Excuse me, may I ask you a question?”

  “Little miss wants to ask us a question,” sneered Agatha. Monika chuckled, passing on the virus of laughter to Sabrina and Norman Rosenthal, to Gwen and Daphne, and, to Lilith’s horror, her own head. “Is that why you summoned us?”

  “Well, er...yes. Yes, it is. Excuse me if it sounds strange, but may I ask you whose side you are on?”

  “Zere are no sides, little miss, zere iz only ze garden.” Agatha’s head shifted closer and hung merely inches away.

  Lilith swayed, overwhelmed by the sugary stink, close to fainting. “Are you—all of you—are you part of the garden?”

  “Everything iz part of ze garden, little miss. And ze garden is part of everything,” she sneered.

  This wasn’t going very well, considering the fact that the stem-arms were poking the girl with their thorns, enveloping her and the dog like a cocoon. Lilith picked up Panther while there was room to move.

  “May I ask you about Rosehead? What’s going to happen on Saturday?”

  “She knows the day. Little miss knows the day.” Agatha’s head seemed impressed, judging by its thin eyebrows flying upward. Others murmured their agreement.

  “I’ll water you some more. If you tell me,” added Lilith.

  “And why should we? Why should we tell you anything at all?” asked Agatha.

  “I’m...my grandfather...I’ll be heir to this property—to the entire Bloom property; the rose garden, too. I think I have a right to know.” Lilith’s confidence slowly returned. “One way or another, I’ll find out eventually.”

  The heads congregated in a semi-circle to consult. Their voices crackled unintelligible gibberish. Neither Lilith nor Panther could understand what they said.

  At last, they parted.

  “You’ve been exceptionally nice to us. You’ve fed us water, unlike zat unworzy imbecile.” Agatha’s head leered at the girl.

  “And blood!” came from the back.

  “And blood. We will show you.”

  “We will show you, we will show you!” echoed through the bush. The heads giggled, cackled, and screeched. Their stem-arms scooped up Lilith and Panther off the floor and the entire party dashed upward.

  Chapter 19

  Rosehead’s Secret

  The ceiling split open with a groan. A thick c
loud of dust filled the air. Lilith choked back a cry, afraid the noise would wake everyone, her grandfather especially; but she soon relaxed and allowed herself to breathe, to Panther’s relief. He suffocated in her grip. It seemed nobody heard a thing. Oblivious to the discomfort of being pressed between thorny canes, Lilith stared at the unfolding sight, as room partitions crumbled.

  For a moment, she caught a glimpse of her neighbors. Trude Brandt snored under a multitude of blankets, removable dentures glistening on her bedside table. All four Rosenthals slept quietly, their beds neatly lined in one row. Irma Schlitzberger’s ponderous shape spread over a bare mattress, covers bunched in a corner. Next to her, shrouded in layers of lavender, wheezed the twins. Gwen sucked on her thumb. Daphne clutched a stuffed elephant. The floor was littered with candy wrappers, empty snack packets, and shopping bags, their contents spilling.

  “What a mess,” whispered Lilith.

  “I said they’re elephant-hugging piglets, didn’t I?” growled Panther; but they already crashed by the red gallery above, broke through the roof, and emerged into the chilly night.

  “Wonder where grandfather sleeps. Why did we stop?” said Lilith with alarm.

  The heads congregated, swaying dangerously.

  “Where’s the mansion?” Lilith eyed the ground three stories below. A monstrous trunk protruded from a mound of dirt, with no sign of the mansion.

  “Think, madam, think,” growled Panther. “I was of higher opinion of your intelligence.”

  “Oh, of course. Make fun of me now, why don’t you,” said Lilith miserably. “How dreadfully forgetful of me. It’s underground for the night. May I ask what’s going to happen now?”

  “Whatever ze garden wants to happen,” said Agatha’s head solemnly, peering into the distance.

  “What exactly does it want to happen?” Lilith pressed on.

  “Little miss iz asking too many questions. Little miss iz trying our patience,” Agatha’s head hissed, while others sneered in an unpleasant way. “Simple water and a little blood won’t do for questions like zese.”

  Lilith’s stomach shrunk. “I’ll give you more of my blood, if that’s what you want.”

  “Madam!” Panther barked.

  “Will you, meine kleine? We liked it. It waz zo sweet.” Monika’s head passed a tongue over its lips.

  “I want a bloody lollipop,” said Daphne’s head hungrily.

  “Lollipops are too hard. I want a bloody licorice,” chimed in Gwen’s.

  “Never had a bloody licorice. What’s it taste like?” asked Lilith’s head.

  Others called out their preferences for potential blood consumption, until their muttering turned into indiscernible babble. They encircled Lilith greedily. Monika’s arms gravitated toward Panther.

  A sigh full of pain made them freeze. It gradually turned into a drawn-out moan, escalated to a cry, and died with a reverberating echo. Lilith’s hair stood on end. Panther’s fur bristled.

  “Rosehead,” they whispered in unison.

  “Little miss, please do hold on.”

  Lilith hastily removed her blue beret, lest it decided to slide off. With a jolt, the rosebush grew, shooting into the sky and arching over the garden. Flocks of sleeping crows dotted the bushes in patches of breathing feathers, yet none of them stirred at their passing.

  Fog unspooled in thick waves. They stopped and hung directly over the clearing shaped like a roofless rotunda.

  “Now watch, watch clozely,” said Agatha’s head.

  Dangling nearly upside down, terrified that the roses might let go at any moment, Lilith peered into the misty darkness.

  There were no crows here, no wind, only a stagnant smell of decay. The glade appeared to be breathing around a massive figure crouched in its middle, exactly where Lilith saw her grandfather shear Rosehead from a shrub. Her heart beating like a mad squirrel, she understood what was going to happen on Saturday and immediately wished she didn’t.

  Rosehead lay on her side, eyes closed, mouth gaping. Her midriff bulged. It appeared to be stuffed with...stuffed with...

  “Panther. I think she’s—”

  “Obviously pregnant.”

  Lilith’s eyes rounded. “But how?”

  “Fortunately for you, I’m erudite enough to know that plants reproduce via pollen transferred by pollinators.” Panther sniffed the air. “Insects and animals. And birds. Incidentally, plants that rely on birds for their reproduction develop red petals. Birds happen to not care if they—”

  “Stink or not. They have no sense of smell. You don’t suppose the crows...”

  “Given that there are no squirrels in the garden, nor did I see a single insect mad enough to live in this bog of stench, I don’t see what other purpose they would fulfill except that and to help with the disposal of the remains?”

  The heads listened with apparent interest.

  “Then what exactly is she going to give birth to?”

  “Little miss haz a very insightful pet. Ze pet iz correct. Now shush,” said Agatha’s head.

  They fell quiet.

  Rosehead stirred, emitting moans and rolls of vapor from her leafy mouth, each smelling fouler than the first. She rolled on her back and began pounding the ground. As if on cue, Bär waddled into the clearing from one of the pathways, snarling.

  Panther tensed. Lilith clutched his muzzle.

  A wave of thuds shook the garden. Fully awake, Rosehead lurched up and sat. Torn leaves swirled around her. Her blood-red eyes rotated wildly; she spotted the dog, kicked it, and released an ear-splitting scream. Bär flew to the edge of the glade and landed in a bush, roaring from anger.

  “She’s having contractions!” yelled Lilith over the racket, and promptly stuffed the beret in her mouth to prevent herself from speaking again.

  “Hush!” Agatha’s head snapped.

  But it was too late. The mastiff heard them. He shook off the dirt, raised his ugly head, and howled for his master.

  The heads moved uneasily, murmuring.

  “Zey are coming. We have to go.”

  Within seconds the entire assembly retreated, shrinking and speeding back so fast that both the girl and the dog barely had time to blink. But just before they disappeared into the mansion, Lilith saw a light flash in the forest.

  As strangely as their journey began, it ended stranger still. They were rudely dumped onto the floor. By the time Lilith sat up, the room looked undisturbed as if nothing ever happened—no wall broken apart, no ceiling opened. The mansion stood still, like normal mansions should.

  Crawling toward the bed, Lilith feverishly told her pet, “She’s pregnant, Panther.”

  “Oh, is she? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “What do you think she carries?” Lilith’s eyes blazed. “Another mutant shrub like herself? It’s like pollination gone wrong.”

  “You’ve delved inside her belly to confirm your mutant theory, did you?” Panther inquired.

  Lilith stared into nothing. “You saw that light in the forest? I bet it’s Ed waiting for us. Bet it’s his secret place. I wonder...”

  “Ed. Your new friend, is it? Smart boy. I need to learn from him. Let’s see here, so he’s waiting in the comfort of his hiding place, while I’m working off my doggy behind by facing a horrendous monster in the uncomfortable manner of hanging upside down, not to mention the fact that—”

  “What if she does talk?” Lilith’s face attained absolute blankness.

  Panther scoffed. “I simply love your attention to detail and your inability to hear what others are saying once you set your mind to something. Truly, it’s a talent one—” He didn’t get a chance to finish.

  The door banged open and there stood Gabby, dressed in a nightgown, the only article of clothing she didn’t attempt to knit, to Lilith’s relief.

  “What’s going on?” she said sharply. Whatever love she professed toward her daughter in the evening, seemed to have evaporated in the course of several hours.

  Panther snarled.


  For a moment Lilith felt disoriented and wanted to dive into an explanation of the looming danger, which, according to what she just witnessed, meant a feast for Rosehead’s newborn baby, or both of them, though Lilith seriously doubted it could harm her mother who’d easily rip apart anyone bold enough to try.

  “Gabby, love? Something wrong?” came from the corridor. By the sound of it, Daniel, slow to wake up, searched for his slippers.

  “Why are you dressed?” Gabby grilled her daughter.

  “Would you rather me strip naked?”

  They were back to their usual familial exchange of affectionate pleasantries.

  “I asked you a question, missy.”

  Hand on Panther’s muzzle, Lilith racked her brain for a passable story, until it hit her, simple yet brilliant.

  “My apologies for not answering right away, Mother.” She cleared her throat. “According to the latest research, adolescent children with mental disorders such as mine tend to sleepwalk. The stress of facing a strange doctor tomorrow morning, a doctor with whom I haven’t gotten acquainted yet, wouldn’t let me sleep. I thought it would be embarrassing if I was found patrolling the halls in the middle of the night in my pajamas. I feared it would only add to the scurrilous gossip that is already circulating about me among grandfather’s guests, who also happen to be our relatives, as you have mentioned. My temerity is at fault here, mother. I apologize profusely for rousing you out of bed. How rancorous of me, wouldn’t you say?” Lilith looked up innocently. This was by far the longest tirade she delivered uninterrupted, scoring not two, but three sophisticated words.

  She let go of Panther’s muzzle. He yapped approvingly.

  Gabby tugged at her hair, eyes darting to her husband, who just appeared.

  “Pup, you all right?” He rubbed his face.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, Dad. Just a little nervous about tomorrow,” said Lilith truthfully, thinking about the impossible task of talking to pregnant Rosehead, and the equally impossible task of sneaking out of the house undetected.

  “You see what I meant now? She should’ve taken the pills. How exactly do you propose we keep her awake for tomorrow’s session? I can’t reschedule it, Daniel. I told you it would happen. You should’ve listened to me, you should’ve—”