Rosehead

Chapter 27. The Mad Gardener

Only a short while ago, Lilith thought that facing Rosehead was the scariest thing she ever did. She changed her mind. Rosehead was only a mutant bush, a giant creature worthy of children's nightmares. The true horror lay ahead of her. She had to confront her grandfather out in the open, in the dead of night, armed with nothing but her wit and fury, painfully aware of the fact that he was both a killer and a Bloom, which made him family. Part of his blood coursed through Lilith, and she hated him for it.

"You're a monster," she said, her face contorted, fists clenched. Panther snarled his approval. Lilith thought about her mental list and recited it. "You're a brute. A book hater. A murderer. And a liar. You tricked me." This was fair game, she thought, not gossiping your opinions about people behind their backs, but relaying the truth to their faces.

"Is that so?" Alfred inquired, lowering the lantern. "Please, kindly explain what you mean."

"You think nobody will believe me," said Lilith, struggling to control her voice.

"Hmm. I thought we established this fact earlier today, didn't we?" Alfred exuded his usual charm.

 "Petra and Ed saw Rosehead, too. Oh, and Ed started talking, for your information. He'll back me up. I'll tell my dad you fed grandmother to her. I'll keep telling everyone until they believe me, or I'll come up with a story to make them leave. Either way, there won't be anyone for you to feed to the garden tomorrow. The mansion will help me."

"Remarkable. I see you know everything better than I do. You've got it all under control. I'm impressed," said Alfred smoothly.

"Hello. I apologize that on our first encounter I didn't introduce myself properly. Let me correct my grievous mistake," Panther yapped, his head held high. "My name is Panther Bloom Junior. I will proudly join Lilith in spreading the word about recent events, you money-thirsty, slow-witted creep."

Lilith gaped at her pet, barely discerning him in the dark. "You talked? In front of an adult?"

"Can't a dog change his mind?"

Grandfather chuckled in surprise, surveying the speaking hound miracle. "Well, well, well. Wouldn't you say. Bizarre. Truly bizarre. I thought I've seen things in my life. Turns out, I haven't. I suppose I wasn't mistaken in my assessment. A whippet is not a dog; it's a joke, a breeder's mistake. You, my dear, belong in a freak show, in one of those exhibitions of biological rarities as a specimen of canine intellectual deformity. You might earn my son some real money finally."

He poked Panther with his boot.

Panther twisted to avoid it and snarled.

"You try biting me, and I'll cut you into a kitty. Understood?" He snapped his shears for dramatic effect.

Panther mumbled something incoherent, retreating.

Satisfied, grandfather turned to Lilith and spoke directly into her face, his putrid breath coming in waves. "As for you, my dear, please, correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought I just heard that a girl and a...talking mutt...will accomplish what generations of men were unable to do. Be my guests, my dearies. You have approximately thirteen hours to fulfill your goal. I'll be watching you with avid interest."

He straightened.

Lilith felt her tongue turn to cotton. She couldn't produce a single word. Panther grunted. Bär grumbled. Newborn bushes shifted restlessly around them, creeping closer. Alfred threw a command in German. Gustav prodded the mastiff to work. His brooding woofs caused a scuffle and a shuffle. The bushes retreated, jostling in disappointment.

"Who, I'd like to know, will believe a twelve-year-old mentally unstable girl, a fourteen-year-old psychotic boy, a seven-year-old, and a yakking pooch?" said Alfred, clearly enjoying himself.