Lilith gulped. Her mother offered a frightening sight. Knitting needles stuck behind her ears, two bags bulging with what could only be new yarn, Gabby marched in and slammed the door so hard it made Daniel jump. She pushed up her glasses and leered at her daughter. Lilith cringed, expecting the tirade of the month to be forever etched in her memory. She slid the garden map under her thigh, Panther barked, and all hell broke loose.

"Don't you bark at me!" Gabby snapped. "And you, missy, what did you do this time? I want to hear all about it. Your grandfather says you've caused trouble and are not allowed in the garden until he changes his mind. What could you possibly do to upset him so much? I have a very sneaky suspicion where this is coming from." She snatched the orange vial from the bedside table and examined it, counting the pills.

"Gabby, now, don't be so hard-knuckled," Daniel put in hesitantly. "She's just jetlagged."

"Jetlagged?" Gabby spun around. "You call this jetlagged?"

Lilith used the moment to stuff the map into her jeans pocket.

"We've talked about this a million times."

"I'm aware of that. It's not—"

   "Then you weren't listening to me. What if she's going into relapse? Here, away from Dr. Crawford? Jetlag? I don't think it's simple jetlag." She turned back.

"But, Gabby, love—"

"Dad, it's okay. I've got it from here." Lilith composed her face, ready for battle.

"You've got what from here?"

"Jetlag, Mother, is typically classified by medical professionals as a circadian rhythm sleep disorder. I'm perfectly fine with another disorder to be added to my collection. I'm rather fond of them. Do you think they have pills for that?" Lilith forced a smile.

"Don't start your nonsense with me, missy."

"But it's not nonsense, Mother," said Lilith. "How can a girl like myself produce nonsense if she has no sense whatsoever to begin with? I must have some to counterbalance it with its opposite, don't you think?"

Her mother glared. "Here we go. She's doing her thing again."

"Love, I don't think we should—"

"There is no should. We must, before it escalates into something else—something we can't handle. Listen to her. Do you hear how she talks? There is absolutely no emotion in it. None. It's scaring me, Daniel. It's getting worse." She propped up her glasses. "She's your daughter, too. Don't you care about her wellbeing? Don't you ever think what would happen if she simply wandered off into the street? Here? She doesn't know any German!"

Daniel opened and closed his mouth.

"Didn't think about that, did you?" Gabby continued throwing terrible scenarios at her husband, while Lilith increasingly felt like a third wheel. Her parents often discussed her in the way people would discuss an object—a disabled adolescent to be fed, medicated, educated, and properly housed. Well, rather her mother issued long monologues, and her father pretended to listen. Nobody asked Lilith how she felt, not even Dr. Corby Crawford, an overpowering, inquisitive matron buttoned in knit jackets made by Gabby Bloom. Her soft talk seeped under Lilith's skin and made her feel stupid.

 "...said she ruined his most precious rosebush, tore off every single bud and had Panther pee on it!"

Panther produced a few coughs that sounded suspiciously like That's a load of cow poop. Lilith gave him the stare. She listened with avid interest, adding a third reason to her mental list of why she had every right to hate her grandfather, a brute, a book-hater, and a liar.

"I didn't hear him saying—" 

"He said it on the phone, so of course you didn't."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to listen!"

"I am listening."

Lilith coughed.

Frowning, both parents looked at their daughter as if aware of her presence for the first time.

"If you'd like an explanation for that, I can give it to you," she said calmly. "Number one, Panther is a dog and doesn't know any better." Panther bit her, she pinched him. "Number two, I thought I could excavate something, you know, to decorate my room."

"You're not going back to collecting bones," said Gabby.

"Of course I am. This rose garden inspired me, actually." Lilith clamped Panther's muzzle to stifle his bark. "Found a few skulls in the back, over there..." She waved at the window, where evening gathered with cunning speed. "They were, er, diaphanous. Children's skulls? I wonder. Anyway. I already asked grandfather for permission to—"

"STOP IT!" her mother shrieked.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mother." Lilith took time to pronounce each word. "Did my story upset you? I'll tell you a different one."

"No more stories! That's enough for today. Your grandfather is an old man and you made him chase you across the garden. He's paying for you to be here. It's an honor. He named you heir to the entire Bloom property!"

"Love—"

"Don't touch me! And what do you do in return? You refuse to take your pills," she said, rattling the vial. "You wake your neighbor in the middle of the night, and you shun your cousin who wanted to talk to you about butterflies. You promised to socialize. His mother told me he was very upset. You hang out with that mute boy, making your poor grandfather—"

"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 eyes," 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.

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.