Warm air smelling of liquor enveloped them. They crept in semi- darkness across the hallway, Lilith's ballet slippers making chewing noises. Panther's claws clicked, causing him to freeze every few steps. They made it up the staircase and sidled along the wall. Ed masterfully stepped on boards that didn't creak, arrived first, and pushed open a door. Lilith only had enough time to register that every surface in the room was covered with canvases, when a woman's voice trailed from below.

"Ed, darling, is that you?" It sounded drawn out, like that of a fortune-teller or a dreamy radio announcer.

Ed mimed that he'll be right back and left.

"Well, that was quite a tumble." Lilith tiptoed around a patchy rug. "You and your liquids."

"You're welcome."

"Why, thank you."

"At least now we know how to get out in case we get locked up again and happen to have no water or blood to spare," Panther growled proudly, licking himself dry. "Since my bladder is very small, in case we run out of my urine, you could, you know..."

"No way. Don't even think about it. I did not hear you and you did not say it," Lilith scoffed.

"Why so pedantic? I thought when matters concern life and death, anything goes. Isn't that what a proper detective would do?" 

Lilith played deaf, smoothing her hair and looking around.

Ed's room resembled an artist's studio shaken just enough to have a messy appearance. It smelled of paint, and she liked it immediately. There was something cozy and lived-in about it, in contrast to the incessant order of the mansion, more suitable for a hotel.

A bed heaped with blankets squatted against a wall. Across it, next to a window, stood a desk, its surface covered with a higgledy-piggledy of notepads, papers, brushes, and pencils. Lilith pulled out a chair and plopped down, taking off her sodden bag that miraculously survived their tribulations. She checked inside to make sure nothing got lost.

"I should've packed a change of clothes," she mumbled, eyeing a drawing that looked suspiciously like her portrait. "Ed is quite an artist, don't you think? It's too bad his parents died."

A voice shouted below. Someone slammed something, and someone turned on the radio.

Lilith and Panther exchanged a glance.

"I don't see how this makes him special." Panther sneezed, for emphasis. "I've never even met my parents. What terrible fate could've beheld them? Yet I still talk."

"Panther. This remark was very much uncalled for. You know perfectly well that I love you from the tip of your nose to the tip of your tail, but your jealousy is starting to get old. Ed is my friend, okay?" Certain pride swelled within Lilith's chest. "Besides, we're supposed to be investigating cruel murders and not discuss your doggy feelings. That red gallery, for example, what do you think it's for?"

But Panther wasn't easily swayed. "Have a heart, madam. I still don't see how boys could be cuddlier than dogs."

"Oh, come on, get off it. Admit it, you want him to hug you as much as I do. How could you not? That cookie smell..." said Lilith dreamily.

"Stale cookie smell," Panther rumbled. "Stale hormonal teenage—"

The door opened, letting in the sound of a radio turned up to full volume.

Both girl and dog caught their breath, but it was only Ed.

Lilith jumped up, blushing. She realized she must look absolutely dreadful—her ballet attire turned unrecognizable, leotard wet and muddy, tutu torn and hanging askew. She glanced at Panther who didn't look much better, resembling a wet cat.

"I'm sorry. I only wanted to sit down."

Ed shook his head so violently Lilith thought it might fly off.

"Thank you for allowing us to stay in your room. Er, is there a bathroom? Can I...?" She raised her eyebrows.

Ed took her hand and led her to the opposite end of the landing. Lilith's heart threatened to steam right out of her ears.

"Don't forget to turn off the water!" came through the blaring music.

Terrified of being discovered, Lilith did her business, washed her face, and wrung out her hair. Panther stealthily slunk inside, causing the door to creak.

"Shh!"

"Pardon me. I don't think she can hear us through all that racket. Can I? A dose of toweling, please?"

Lilith briskly rubbed him off.

They slowly crept back to Ed's room.

"Dinner at six, darling!" the voice announced in between songs.

"Is that your step-mom?" Lilith inquired, once the door was locked and they sat on Ed's bed, Panther in Lilith's lap.

Ed nodded.

"She won't come up and check on you, will she?"

He shook his head.

Lilith let out a breath of relief. "Why is she talking to you in English?"

Ed scribbled on a pad. SHE SAYS ENGLISH IS KEY TO SUCCESS. SHE'S GETTING ME READY FOR LIFE.

"Oh. I know what you mean." Lilith let out a long sigh.

DID YOU PISS ON IT?

"What?" Lilith looked at Ed, bewildered.

THE GALLERY. DID YOU PISS ON IT? IT'S THE ONLY WAY TO GET OUT.

"I—Oh. No." Lilith shook her head. "No, not at all. Panther did, actually. It was a dreadful thing to do, in my opinion, and to think that it was me who suggested he produce a certain liquid to get us out..."

Panther perked up, a smug look about his muzzle. Mutual understanding flickered between him and Ed, something that excluded girls from the appreciation of certain boyish pleasures.

"Wait, how did you know we were in the gallery?"

IT'S THE ONLY ROOM ON THE THIRD FLOOR THAT ANYONE CAN ENTER, APART FROM ALFRED. AND IT LIKES SPITTING THINGS OUT, WHEN IT GETS BORED.

"Curious. It took my blood to let us in."

IT PREFERS TYPE O.

"Does it?" Lilith raised her brow. "What's it for, anyway? The paintings, they're not really paintings, are they?"

FACES OF BLOOM HEIRS.

Lilith swallowed. "Real faces?"

FACIAL SKIN.

"I was afraid of that." Lilith shuddered, thinking about her grandfather's demand. "Did your dad tell you all this?"

Panther stopped purring, listening intently.

HE TOLD EVERYONE.

"I don't understand. Then how come nobody knows?"

Ed put a finger on his lips and motioned to the canvases.

Without frames, they had a raw unfinished look about them. Lilith carefully rolled Panther onto a blanket, stood, and walked up to one. It depicted a wild rose, brilliantly crimson against rich greenery. When she looked closer, she saw a tiny woman's face framed in petals, the same one that peered at her in the gallery. Lilith suppressed an impulse to look away. It wasn't polite to freak out in front of a new friend, especially not about his dead father's paintings.

She glanced at another canvas. It portrayed a rosebush turning into a large monstrous woman. The canvas next to it made her hair stand up. The rosebush woman stuffed a fistful of apparently dead people into her mouth, splats of blood flying everywhere. Each painting was signed with the same name, Jürgen Vogel.

Lilith wheeled around. "Did you—did he, your dad...did he see this happen?"

Ed nodded, stroking Panther, who conveniently migrated to his lap. Lilith hardly noticed, her blood boiling.

"This is why grandfather wanted to separate us. He was afraid I'd find out. He's a creep, he kills people, and the rosebush woman eats them. I wonder if it's something I'll have to do once I inherit this squalid, abominable, incarnadine property." Lilith glared, her face hot. "Is that what he does in his laboratory? Takes faces off previous heirs? To paint over them? To preserve them as Bloom family legacy trophies? And who will have to take his face off when he's dead? I think I'm going to puke."

Ed began writing.

Lilith shook.

"Is it part of a Bloom heir duty, to fashion the previous one into a painting?"

Ed broke the pencil, jumped to the desk, grabbed another one, and kept scribbling.

"You know what, it doesn't matter." Lilith took a few deep breaths. "Dearest Ed, please excuse my vigor and directness, but what I'm about to say is very important. I would like your complete attention. Although you never answered my question about how exactly grandfather kills people, I think I guessed it myself. He probably lures them into the garden and lets the garden deal with them in its own preferred manner. How it happens is rather irrelevant. What matters is that people are dying." Lilith breathed heavily, trying to contain herself. "You have helped us before. Tremendously. Therefore, Panther and I would like to invite you to join us in stopping Alfred Bloom from doing any more of this outrageous, despicable massacre." She took another breath. "We just decided," she added, to Panther's puzzled stare and Ed's questioning look. "Yes, Panther can talk."

She waited anxiously.

Ed looked at Panther, mystified. Panther threw Lilith a glare that was supposed to burn her to the ground.

"Friends don't hide secrets from each other, so don't give me that look. Besides, we need Ed's help. Come on, say something," commanded Lilith.

Ed froze, pencil hovering in his hand above the notepad.

Panther cleared his throat and professed in his most courteous manner, "Well, since the squirrel is out of the bag, so to speak...very nice to meet you, Ed, and I wanted to thank you for being so kind as to spot us earlier today flying in the sky. As to the current point of conversation, what madam Lilith Bloom means is, time is running short. If by some unfortunate circumstance we happen to be interrupted in the next few minutes or, worse, seconds," he said, as he sniffed at the air, "she's afraid she'll be separated from you again and might not be able to confirm her theory regarding the rose garden's mystery and perform the elephantine task of saving the lives of all guests currently residing in the mansion, two of whom, as you are well aware, despise her very guts, yet the kindness of her heart does not permit her to simply let them vanish into the rosebush woman's thorny clutches." He threw Lilith a quick glance. "It also means that madam here is a saint and has never, never in her most terrible dreams imagined neither Daphne, nor Gwen Schlitzberger, being devoured by said monstrosity with extensive crunching and slurping and chewing."

"That's right, I didn't," Lilith snapped.

Panther triumphantly curled his tail.

Ed blinked. He opened his mouth, closed it, and finally wrote. AMAZING. A TALKING DOG THAT KNOWS HOW TO PISS OFF STUPID MANSIONS. COURSE I'LL JOIN YOU. He flipped to a new page. ONLY ALFRED DOESN'T KILL PEOPLE. ROSEHEAD DOES.

"Rosehead?"

THE ROSEBUSH WOMAN.

"Oh. She has a name. Splendid." Lilith let out a shattered sigh and sat next to Ed.

"Then who does the paintings?"

SHE SUCKS PEOPLE DRY. THE SKIN COMES OFF ITSELF? DUNNO WHO DOES THE PAINTINGS, DAD NEVER FOUND OUT.

"That fact makes my grandfather less of a monster, I suppose. What role does he play in the whole affair?"

Ed stared at Panther. It took him a moment to hear Lilith.

GETTING TO IT. He threw Panther another look.

Panther rather enjoyed the attention, stretching out his neck and positioning himself on the bed in a way he thought dignified talking dogs should sit.

"Can I help you with something?" he growled.

Ed unfroze. EVERY DECADE A BLOOM HEIR CUTS ROSEHEAD OUT OF A BUSH AND FEEDS PEOPLE TO HER. HIS ONLY JOB IS TO GET THEM INTO THE GARDEN.

"Then I was right. Is that what you meant by yes and no?"

Ed nodded once, his eyes on the dog.

Panther shifted uncomfortably.

"And then what?" Lilith said impatiently.

DUNNO. SHE DIES? He wrote it without looking at the pad.

"How many people does she have to eat? Can we stop her somehow?" Lilith elbowed Ed.

He startled. ONLY A BLOOM HEIR CAN STOP HER. I THINK.

"But, this doesn't make any sense," said Lilith, bewildered. "If only a Bloom heir can stop her, why would grandfather try to make me one? Stopping her is not in his interest, is it?"

WHERE DO YOU GET A DOG LIKE THIS?

"Oh, dad gave him to me for my twelfth birthday."

DOES HE HAVE MORE?

There was a loud clearing of a doggy throat. "If I may just share with you this important bit of advice? It's not polite to talk about a person in a person's presence without mentioning said person's name. For example, you don't say he, you say Panther."

Now both Lilith and Ed stared.

"I'm sorry, Panther," said Lilith.

Panther grinned. "Apology accepted. And, by the way, if there is going to be extensive written communication between you two, I daresay I request to leave this group. In case you forgot, I can't read."

Lilith ignored him, nudging Ed out of his stupor.

"So, why would grandfather want to make me heir?"

DUNNO. MAYBE IT'S BECAUSE—

Ed's pencil broke again. He grunted in disappointment, which was the first noise Lilith heard from him. He walked to the desk to grab a new pencil and froze, pointing at the window.

Lilith and Panther scurried over.

Black crows swarmed the garden.

"There must be hundreds," Lilith breathed.

"I would appreciate it if somebody explained what makes your grandfather less of a monster? I missed that part," came from below.

Ed startled, staring down.

Lilith rounded on her pet. "Number one, you're interrupting. Number two, I'm sure you have already deduced the basics. In case you didn't, let me recount them to you. The rosebush woman is called Rosehead. A Bloom heir cuts her out of a bush every ten years and lures people into the garden so she can suck them dry. The paintings in the gallery are peeled off faces. Only a Bloom heir can stop her. Rosehead. Exactly why grandfather is trying to make me one, we don't know. Is that enough of an explanation?"

Panther bit her ankle lightly.

"Ow! Would you stop it?"

Ed opened the window. A sickly sweet stench rolled in.

"Oh, how refreshingly foul." Lilith coughed.

Ed covered his nose.

The crows screeched, occasionally fluttering from bush to bush as if in anticipation of a meal.

Lilith winced at the thought of what exactly they might be waiting for. "One of them nabbed me in the head this morning," she said, pinching her nose shut.

A horrible drawn out sigh came from the depths of the garden. It grew, became a sharp intake of air and turned into a shriek, causing the birds to take off, squawking.

They started.

Ed grabbed Lilith's hand. She followed his gaze.

Bär, chewing on something pink, appeared on a pathway that led directly to Ed's cottage. Holding his leash, Alfred followed, Gabby and Daniel behind him.