by Ksenia Anske
“Oh, I’m sorry. Please excuse me, Grandfather. I didn’t mean to throw them. I’ll pick them up.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Alfred shoved the flowers aside with the tip of his shoe. “You have a whole garden at your disposal. You see, old stems need to be cut, to breathe and make room for new ones. There are plenty of old stems here.” He spread his arms. “Rosebushes grow very fast, my dear girl. The only secret is...they have to eat, a lot, to produce a lot of flowers.”
Alfred’s piercing eyes studied Lilith.
She tried to look calm. “How do you feed a rose?”
“Ah! Excellent question. You feed it...organic matter. It’s my secret, dear girl. It makes them want more, makes them hungry.” His eyes sparkled. “I don’t bury it in the ground like other gardeners do; I leave it on top, for them to find and eat as much, or as little, as they want. That’s the key.”
“What is this organic matter exactly?” Lilith shook visibly.
“Why, I thought you’d know this, from reading books. It’s a matter composed of remains of once-living organisms.”
“Once-living organisms.”
“That’s right.”
Only now did Lilith notice what her grandfather did to the bush. He shaped it into a woman. She stood nearly thirteen feet tall, bulging with sizeable bust and hips, blossoms as eyes. That’s the sighing woman-thing, thought Lilith, wishing Panther could witness it with her. She must’ve been demanding to be cut to shape, to come alive.
“Grandfather?” She pointed. “The rosebush. It looks like a woman. Is there a particular reason why you cut it like that?”
“Do you like it?”
The bush woman moved, or maybe it only seemed that way to Lilith, producing something small and red. Alfred took it, as calm as if he lifted a waffle from a plate.
“Well, look what I just found,” he said.
“My beret.”
“Have you been to this part of the garden before?”
“No,” Lilith lied.
“Interesting. How do you think it got here?”
“Maybe Bär found it and dropped it?” Lilith cringed. She couldn’t come up with a better lie, not while being stared at by a gigantic bush woman. “Grandfather? This rosebush, I think it’s moving.”
“Is it now?”
“Yes. I think I just saw it give you my beret.”
Alfred grabbed Lilith by the shoulders and shook her. “Listen carefully. I thought we agreed on this. Do not breathe a word to anyone about what you saw, lest you end up not the one gardening, but the one being gardened on. Am I making myself clear?” He stretched his lips into a smile.
Lilith gulped.
“I’m still waiting for an answer. Do you accept my offer?”
Lilith could only blink.
“I understand, you need time to think. Is that it?”
She nodded.
“Well, I know you’re a good girl. You will accept my offer by the end of your stay, won’t you? The question is only when. The sooner you do it, the better. You know why?”
Lilith shook her head.
“Because,” he said, switching to a whisper, “until you do, you may not leave my property. Nor do I want to catch you and your...pet wandering where you shouldn’t, doing things you shouldn’t be doing. When I need you, Gustav will fetch you. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” Lilith croaked.
“And if I ever catch you trespassing in this clearing, I might just find a way for you to never come out of the garden.” He released his grip.
Lilith realized a terrible truth. Her grandfather played some kind of a cruel game, in which she had a part. If she wanted to collect any facts about the rose garden, about the organic matter it ate, and about the rosebush woman in particular, she needed to play sweet and stupid.
“Dear Grandfather, please excuse my nervousness. It’s the jetlag. I must have imagined everything. I thank you for this amazing presentation. You are a true master rosarian. I only hope one day I’ll match your skill, to be able to sculpt a shape like that.” She glanced at the bush, noticing a hint of pride creep into her grandfather’s face. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” She chose her next words carefully. “I will give your offer my utmost thought.”
“Good. Just the answer I wanted to hear. Shall we?” He took her arm and they strolled out of the clearing. Lilith looked back.
The rosebush woman leered.
Chapter 8
Ed’s Story
They passed through the arbor, out of the fog and into the sun. Guests’ voices trilled in the distance. A pleasant scent hung in the air. Everything looked so normal that it seemed inconceivable another side to the garden existed, dark and sinister. Lilith tried to memorize the way out, but the many turns confused her and she soon gave up. They rounded another bush and stumbled upon Ed. He had a crumpled look about him, sketching furiously in his notepad.
“Ed! My dear boy. Why am I not surprised to find you here,” Alfred said cheerily.
Ed startled, his already pale face turning white.
“Drawing another rose, I take it?” Alfred snatched the notepad.
Ed and Lilith exchanged a glance that could only mean one thing, that Alfred Bloom was an obnoxious brute.
“Hmmm, doesn’t look like a rose. More of a peony. You can do better than this, I know you can. Practice, my dear. Although...I’d prefer it,” he said, as he pointed to a small cottage that Lilith hadn’t noticed before, “if you sketched from the comfort of your home. Snip a rose, stick it in a vase. Better concentration that way. Too many people here to distract you.” He shoved the pad back into Ed’s hands.
Preceded by barely audible footsteps, Gustav materialized out of nowhere. Lilith had gotten used to it by now. She wanted to ask about Panther, but didn’t get her chance.
Gustav hotly whispered something, and Alfred’s face turned thunderous. “I’m afraid, I must leave you two for the time being,” he said and stalked off without another word.
Lilith’s stomach churned at the thought of Panther being locked up as she watched the butler’s tall figure and her grandfather disappear behind a turn.
Ed looked at Lilith.
“Hi,” she said, remembering her manners. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself properly. Sorry about that. I’m Lilith Bloom.” And this is Panther, she wanted to add, but bit her lip.
Ed flipped over his pad.
ED VOGEL, it said in large letters.
From the distant recesses of her memory, Lilith extracted the meaning of the word vogel. It meant bird. Ed did look a bit like a bird, inquisitive and alert. And he smelled like cookies. For that fact alone, Lilith wanted to be next to him at all times.
“Er...Thanks for your note,” she said.
Ed grinned expectantly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t get a chance to read it. It landed in a bowl of vanilla sauce.”
Ed raised a brow.
“Don’t ask. It was the stupidest thing. Can you tell me what it said?” Her heart drummed wildly.
Ed wrote. I WANTED TO TALK TO YOU.
“Oh! I wanted to talk to you, too. Was it you signaling us with the flashlight?”
He nodded.
“How did you know where we were?”
Ed pointed to the cottage, to its single upper story window. Lilith could barely see it through a mass of overgrown vines.
“You live there?”
A nod and extensive waving of the arms was his answer.
“You saw us from your window? Thanks for helping. I thought we’d never find our way back. The garden—” She wanted to say, the garden wouldn’t let us go, but bit her tongue, remembering her grandfather’s threat. “Is it true you’re mute?” she blurted, and covered her mouth in horror.
Ed’s eyes widened.
“Oh no, I did not just say this. Please excuse me, I didn’t mean to be rude.”
IT’S OKAY. I GET THIS A LOT.
Lilith exhaled in relief. “Well, is it t
rue what they’re saying? You stuck your tongue to a frozen door?”
Ed shook his head, energetically miming disapproval.
“I knew it.” Lilith’s face turned hot. “That stupid Daphne girl.” She covered her mouth a second time, unable to believe her own ears. This quiet boy seemed to make her more expressive, causing her to overstep self-imposed boundaries of never openly expressing her opinions about people in public.
Ed grinned, doodled something, and presented Lilith with a caricature of Daphne as a balloon in the sky. He poked the pencil in the middle.
“Pop goes the weasel,” said Lilith.
They shared a smile, both feeling the beginning of a friendship. Muffled voices reached them. Ed grabbed Lilith’s hand. Without a second thought, she followed him, running from alley to alley, until they reached a particularly overgrown arbor and plunked down next to it, wheezing.
Lilith’s mind spun with questions.
“Why don’t you talk—if you don’t mind me asking?”
YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW? IT’S NOT PRETTY.
“I really do.”
Ed flipped to a clean page. Lilith leaned to look. A sweet aroma overwhelmed her, and she fought the urge to stick her nose into his hair and sniff it. She tensed, embarrassed.
Ed drew a train and a falling man in front of it.
“A train...someone got hit by a train?”
JÜRGEN VOGEL, MY DAD.
“Your dad got hit by a train?”
JUMPED.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry for your loss.”
Ed hung his head. IT’S OKAY. I’M OVER IT. IT’S BEEN ALMOST A YEAR.
“That must’ve hurt.”
He nodded.
“Do you mind...is it okay if I ask another question?”
Another nod.
“Do you have any idea why he did it?” Lilith hoped Ed wouldn’t mind her asking.
He didn’t. In fact, it appeared he wanted to tell her.
He wrote, THE GARDEN, flipped a few very obscene gestures at it and kicked up dirt for an added effect.
“The garden.”
I’LL EXPLAIN. For the next hour he drew picture after picture, sharing everything about his life, from the fact that he’s fourteen to the fact that last summer his father, Jürgen Vogel, Bloom family gardener by trade and painter by heart, called it quits. Grief-stricken, Ed stopped talking. It’s not that he couldn’t, words simply wouldn’t come. It was easier to draw.
“I get it,” whispered Lilith.
A misty gratitude filled Ed’s eyes. Lilith’s heart skipped a beat. She cleared her throat.
Ed kept drawing. His mom died giving birth. Three years later his dad married one of Alfred’s numerous cousins, Rosalinde Bloom. After her husband’s death she spent most of her time hugging the bottle.
“Oh,” said Lilith. “I’m sorry.”
Ed shrugged.
An awkward pause fell between them.
“So, um, what is it you wanted to talk about?” asked Lilith.
HOW MANY HEADS DID YOU SEE ON THE WALL?
“What? What are you talking about?”
I SLEPT IN THAT ROOM BEFORE. I KNOW.
Lilith fixed her beret. “Four. At first I thought I imagined them.” She hoped she didn’t blush. “Then I thought maybe they’re part of the mansion.”
YES AND NO.
“What do you mean, yes and no?”
THE MANSION IS PART OF THE GARDEN, BUT IT ALSO SORT OF ISN’T ANYMORE, BECAUSE IT SORT OF GREW INTO ITS OWN THING.
“What thing? How do you know?”
DAD SAID. Ed paused, and then scribbled fast. HE KILLED HIMSELF TO ESCAPE THE HORRORS HE HAD TO FACE IN THE GARDEN.
“Did he leave a note?”
HE LEFT PAINTINGS.
Lilith’s feet went cold. She thought about her grandfather’s threat as to what will happen if she breathes a word to anyone about the rosebush woman. “What horrors?”
Ed studied her. ARE YOU THE FAINTING KIND?
A distant sigh reached them, ruffling the leaves in its wake. Lilith’s eyes went round. “No, not at all. Last time I fainted was when an elephant farted me in the face at the circus.”
Ed coughed.
“I was three.” Lilith glared. “Look, certain very peculiar things are happening around here. The place gives me the creeps. I’d love to talk to you about it. It’s just that...there is a certain promise that I made to a certain individual, and that promise constituted me not mentioning a word about a certain activity involving a certain tool that looks like scissors cutting a certain shape from a certain, um, green thing of sorts, so that a congregation of certain other green things doesn’t hold me hostage. Sort of.”
Ed raised an eyebrow. EASY. YOU SAW ALFRED CUT A BUSH INTO A WOMAN. HE THREATENED TO MAKE YOU DISAPPEAR IN THE GARDEN IF YOU TOLD ANYONE.
“Excuse me, but, is it written on my face?”
HE DID THE SAME TO ME, OLD MONGREL.
“You’re not saying...”
HE MADE ME WATCH HIM CUT IT, BUT IT DIED.
“The woman?”
THE BUSH. GOT ALL BROWN AND FELL APART.
“Why?”
I DUNNO. WRONG BUSH?
To solve this mystery, Lilith knew she’d have to get used to breaking promises made to loathsome individuals who didn’t deserve any better. “All right, I’ll tell you what happened. He pruned a bush today, in a clearing in the back of the garden. You have to fall through an arbor to get there. Anyway, that bush thing, I mean, that bush woman, is huge and she stinks. The whole place stinks like there are bodies decomposing everywhere. Grandfather mentioned feeding organic matter to it. What I want to know is, does he kill people and feed them to the garden? Is that what he means by organic matter?”
YES. AND NO. I MEAN, TO ANSWER YOUR FIRST QUESTION, YES AND NO. TO ANSWER YOUR SECOND QUESTION— Ed’s pencil slipped in his haste.
“What do you mean, yes and no?” Lilith didn’t notice that she leaned very close to Ed.
Loud smooching noises made them jump apart.
Stomping like a pair of baby elephants, the Schlitzberger twins made their appearance.
“Hallo, Lily.” Daphne waved.
“It’s Lilith.”
“Look, Gwen. Ed has got himself a girlfriend.”
Gwen sniggered. “Hey, Ed, why don’t you give your girlfriend a flower?” She grabbed a nearby rose and cracked its stem. Lilith thought she heard the rosebush produce an angry moan in response. She hoped she was right, seeing a vivid picture of both Daphne and Gwen being swallowed by the garden.
“Leave him alone,” she said, standing up.
“Did you loze your puppy? What waz hiz name—Kitty? We saw him in the kitchen. Zey are cooking him for dinner.” Daphne flashed her braced teeth.
“Monika iz skinning him alive,” Gwen added.
Lilith’s stomach lurched. “Are you sure about that? I thought you couldn’t see much beyond your nose from those piggy little eyes of yours.”
Ed presented Daphne with his latest drawing. Her face went purple, and she seemed to inflate. Temporarily speechless, she grabbed the paper and tore it to pieces.
“About that skull,” continued Lilith, moving shoulder-to-shoulder with Ed, “there is a pile of them buried right where you’re standing.” She pointed to Daphne’s feet. “Want to see?”
Daphne jumped with a shriek, bumped into her sister, and they both toppled over each other, scrambling to their feet like two over-sized piglets, their knees scraped bloody. Lilith thought the bushes rustled closer, as if drawn to the scent of blood.
“You’re mental!” yelled Gwen.
“You’re both mental!” screamed Daphne. “Komm!” She pulled up her sister and they waddled away, sniffling.
“Hi, Ed! Hi, Lilith!” Petra came running, her brother behind her.
It became clear to Lilith that they’d have no peace.
Enraged, Irma Schlitzberger stomped their way, wailing twins by her side. “Iz zat true,
child? How dare you...” She caught her breath. “How dare you hurt my daughters, you, you disgrace to ze Bloom family.”
“Lilith! There you are.” Sabrina Rosenthal strolled up with her husband.
“Why, we were looking all over for you,” said Norman. “It would be nice if you spent some time with Patrick, he wants to show you his collection of butterflies.” He prodded his son forward. “Go on, tell her.”
Patrick launched into a rehearsed explanation of his hobby. “Um, a butterfly is a day-flying insect that can be spotted...um...” He screwed his face, trying to remember.
“Butterflies,” muttered Lilith. “All I need right now is butterflies,” she whispered to Ed. “Please. Save me from this lot. Can you?”
Ed furrowed his brow.
They were trapped. On their left, Irma Schlitzberger gave a lecture on manners. On their right, the Rosenthals demanded Lilith socialize with their children. Ahead of them appeared a wheelchair with the blind Heidemarie, pushed by her daughter Hanna; behind them stood the overgrown arbor.
There was only one way out.
Ed mimed something that looked like, Trust me, I know what I’m doing, knocking off Lilith’s beret in the process. She picked it up. They clasped hands, pressed backward, and promptly fell through, into fog, stench, and the loud growling of Bär.
Two figures stepped out of the mist.
“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?” Alfred Bloom said cheerily. “Ed, my dear boy, didn’t I ask you to draw from the comfort of your own home? Lilith, my dear girl, didn’t we agree on you not being seen where you’re not supposed to be seen? I thought we just talked about this, didn’t we?” He advanced, but then all of them froze, because an ear-splitting and blood-chilling shriek pierced the air.
Lilith’s hair stood on end and she nearly fainted.
Chapter 9
Panther’s Liberation
A foul vapor rolled over them in waves. Its misty tongue licked everything into oblivion, carrying the type of smell that penetrated bones, putrid, as if something long dead stirred to life. Lilith coughed and felt as if the little breakfast she managed to eat demanded to come out. The ground shuddered under thunderous steps of someone heavy. A rush of wind followed, swirling with rose petals, and then that too passed and all was still.