Rosehead

Chapter 13. The Red Gallery

Lilith sniffed her hands. They were clean. Too petrified to speak, she felt warm liquid seep out of her nose and hit the floor. The floor slurped it up. In the same way the room below drank water, this one drank blood. Lilith went rigid with horror, expecting it to bleed her to death. She didn't dare feel around for Panther, who wisely didn't dare feel for her.

Both girl and dog sat still for what felt like an eternity, listening for any disturbance. Not a single sound reached them. In fact, it was eerily quiet. The air had a weird tinge to it, as if something dehydrated and died, leaving the faint memory of its original odor. It gave Lilith the creeps.

Gradually, light spilled from nowhere and everywhere.

They found themselves in a large windowless room, its every surface painted red. Dozens of portraits in heavy frames, shiny at one point, covered the walls floor to ceiling. There was no furniture except a pedestal in the middle of the room that resembled a thick thorny stem, the flower missing.

"It's a gallery," Lilith whispered.

"I haven't noticed." Panther inched closer.

"I think it feeds on blood. It licked the blood off my fingers."

"That's encouraging. I must say, we're having incredible luck with your emergency ballet escapade. Not to mention me getting my promised steak. Anything else it eats?"

Lilith gaped at one of the paintings. A woman's face looked back at her, and she could've sworn its eyes moved. "Don't know. Only, I get the feeling that the heads on the wall were nothing compared to these."

"Lucky for you. I get no such feeling. The only feeling I have is an intense desire to get out of here as soon as possible." Panther scratched at the wall.

Lilith regarded him. "Please stop behaving like an incongruent coward. What's the matter with you? Are you a dog or not? Can't you smell it?"

She stood and walked to the wall.

"I'll bark if you touch it." Panther shook. "I mean it."

Lilith cocked her head. "Sorry to disappoint you, but it appears this gallery is soundproof, or at least it hushes the sound, because by now grandfather would've heard us and extracted us from here. Thus, I don't think anyone will hear you. You may bark to your heart's desire."

Panther licked his muzzle. "Don't get me wrong. I love juicy steak, love it, but I'm in no particular hurry to become one."

"Thank you for deeming me idiotic enough to stick my finger into one of these," said Lilith. "And thank you for being so concerned about me. To inform you, my nose has mercifully stopped bleeding and I'm in no rush to slam my head on the floor in order to produce more blood to get us out. In case you haven't noticed, there is no bathroom in here. Not that it would help. This gallery takes blood as payment, and I'd expect it to be your turn to produce a certain fluid that will get us out of here."

"Do you propose I bleed myself to death?"

"Do you propose I do?"

Panther hung his tail.

"If you have nothing else to say, I will proceed with our investigation, dear Watson, while you stand guard." Lilith leaned closer to the portrait.

A dead face stared at her, a mask of a woman with long hair. It looked as if it could come alive any second. Something was very wrong about it, and it smelled bad.

"It's just the mansion trying to tell me something, like the heads. It's just a portrait, just a portrait..." Lilith soothed herself, but she knew perfectly well it wasn't. She sensed it on a gut level. Thick brush strokes of layer upon layer of paint covered what looked like—