Night rolled over the garden. The air stilled, subsiding the stink. In another place and time, Lilith would've taken it as a peaceful prelude to a good night's sleep. Alas, the quiet disturbed her. She imagined Rosehead lying low in anticipation of the perfect moment to strike. Stripped out of her ruined clothes, Lilith took a shower, combed her hair, cleaned her bag, wiped Panther with a wet towel to his loud displeasure, and changed into her reading outfit—a navy skirt and cardigan, with her blue beret as the final touch.

"You're not planning on sleeping then?" Panther yawned.

"What? I thought you said we needed to attend to business?"

"An hour ago. I changed my mind now. I'm tired. And your grandfather is a bloody moron."

Lilith climbed onto the bed, one leg dangling over the edge. "You've said that a million times. Is anything else new?"

"Actually, I am trying something new. Wouldn't you humbly agree with my opinion? At least once, would you take off your carefully constructed composure and tell me what you really think about him? So far I've only heard you yell, He's a murderer! He's a murderer! Well, it doesn't count. I'm interested in your calm observations, please." Panther lolled out his tongue.

Lilith thought of her mental list: brute, book hater, liar, murderer. "I don't think about anything apart from how to stop him," she lied. Panther's banter annoyed her. "Anything else you want to tell me? About anyone else, by chance?"

She plopped onto the pillows. Panther plopped onto her lap.

"Certainly. Gladly. Let's see here. Your mother is a fussy squirrel-brain, your father is a hesitant pillow-breath, and your friend Ed is a hormonal cookie-cake."

Lilith raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

"There is more, mind you. Bär is a bag of skin three sizes too large for his bones. The Schlitzberger twins are two elephant-hugging piglets. And Rosehead," he said, scratching his ear, "is a blood-sucking, stinking, mega-hairy plant-freak."

"Interesting. May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"What about me?"

"You? You're my beloved friend." He wagged his tail.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"You're very bad at lying, you know that? I can see you blushing."

"It's the warmth of friendly love in my precious doggy face. I mean it, with the most wholesome sincerity of a purebred whippet. You're my friend and that is all." He stuck his nose under a pillow.

"Okay, if that's the case, thank you. It was extremely accurately observed, oh Panther, my forever amicable good- humored partner. Now, please kindly get ready as we are about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime."

"Sounds horribly dangerous. What's the plan?"

"The plan is to ponder what grandfather is up to and how we'll get out of here tomorrow. Unnoticed."

"I thought we found the solution to that?"

"Flying through the sky and hoping to land in a friendly rosebush is not precisely my idea of exiting with grace, if that's what you're implying."

"You'll barf out your breakfast and the mansion will make us invisible. Vomit is one of the liquids we haven't tried yet."

Lilith threw him a look.

"Fine. I'll ponder with you. But can I at least have a nap first?"

"No. And stop acting like a cat," Lilith said crossly. Surveying the contents of her bag, she found Ed's map of the garden, a pen, a journal for notes, and The Hound of the Baskervilles, a corner still bent on page thirteen.

"You're sure this is the most desirable position for the night?" Panther waddled over to the other side. "May I suggest we sit here, so that in the tragic event that more heads appear, they won't be breathing down our necks."

Lilith's eyes fired up with excitement. "That's it! Brilliant, simply brilliant." She kissed an uncomprehending Panther and disappeared into the bathroom.

"What's brilliant?"

 A full glass of water in hand, Lilith hastily walked back and doused the liquid on the wall above the headboard. Every drop was absorbed, and the entire room heaved, as if asking for more.

"Remember what happened last time when you fed it?" Panther grumbled disapprovingly.

Undeterred, Lilith made several enthusiastic trips to the bathroom and back. Water kept disappearing, but nothing happened. Tired of the repetitive task, Lilith dropped onto the bed, tossing the empty glass aside.

"It's not doing anything," she muttered. "Why isn't it working?"

Panther strolled to the window, tail curled in defiance. "You're asking me? Pfft. You may have registered the fact that whenever I give you precious advice, you dismiss it. I feel like it doesn't matter what I say, you won't listen, so why bother?"

"Suit yourself. I'll investigate on my own." Lilith fiercely leafed through the book.

"What are you doing?" Panther craned his neck.

"Seeking advice from someone who doesn't demand steak or fancy pink—"

"Rosy."

"Pink jackets, or twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week uninterrupted attention. Someone who doesn't throw a fit not worthy of a true crime investigator."

Panther's ears flattened. "I hate it when you do these spontaneous things without explaining what you're up to."

"I was of a higher opinion of your intelligence, dear Watson. There is no time for me to explain everything. Please use your brain."

Panther issued a wounded bark.

Lilith shrugged, opened the book, and pointed to a random spot—her method of getting answers to life's problems whenever her father wasn't around, because whenever she asked her mother, she received an extensive lecture on a topic that had nothing to do with her original question. Of course, there was Panther, but, number one, he didn't appear in her life until a year ago, and, number two, asking him typically resulted in an onslaught of sarcastic responses from the first day she discovered he could talk, when she contracted a fever and jokingly requested a cup of tea. Panther yapped that he'd be happy to bring her one in exchange for ten sugar cubes. No, he corrected himself to the gaping girl, make it twenty.

Smiling at the memory, Lilith read out loud, "When a crisis comes, as it will do..." Her face drained color. She couldn't help but glance at Panther, who couldn't help but glance back, their conflict forgotten. She continued reading. "I will direct how you shall act. I suppose that by Saturday all might be ready?"

Lilith felt a chunk of ice slide into her stomach. "Saturday. Panther, what day is today?"

The whippet took his sweet time answering. "Generally, dogs are not supposed to know days of the week. I, however, happen to have studied—"

"Oh, come on, you don't need to prove to me that you're the smartest dog on earth. You're genius, brilliant, super- intelligent, canny, clever, and keen. And I love you more than anything or anyone, always and forever, with my whole heart, okay?" She scooped up her pet and kissed him. He licked her cheek. Thus their peace was sealed, for the moment.

"Thursday, I think," Panther growled happily. "We arrived on Monday. It's our fourth night here."

"Right," echoed Lilith. "That means we have one day left to figure things out, and that's tomorrow. Whatever it is that's due, is happening on Saturday." Her eyes widened.

Panther coughed. "Since I'm supposed to be the sounding board, may I voice my opinion?"

"Of course."

"Thank you. I'd like to point out one very important fact." He cleared his throat. "I may be a young dog, but even a young dog knows that we live in the twenty-first century." Panther paused.

"And your point is?" Lilith raised an eyebrow.

"My point is, in the twenty-first century most children know that sticking their finger into a book and deeming whatever is written in it as the accurate prediction of the future is, how to say it politely, not necessarily a good idea. Books are not exactly the right tools for that sort of thing."

"Oh, I see. May I add to your statement?"

Panther tilted his head, which in dog was a nod.

"Well, in the twenty-first century most children are not aware of the fact that houses can move, gardens can eat people, and, oh, dare I forget, dogs can talk." She crossed her arms.

Panther shifted uncomfortably.

"I also believe that writers write books to connect our minds. No matter what they write, it's our collective knowledge preserved on pages, so any word from any book happens to be a word of wisdom," she added.

"Fine. You win," Panther rumbled. "Can I try?"

Lilith triumphantly offered him the book.

Panther nudged through pages with his nose and pressed it at random.

Lilith read aloud. "The moon was shining bright upon the clearing, and there in the centre lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear and fatigue."

By a curious coincidence, the moon trespassed the clouds at the same precise moment. Lilith startled. "My grandmother," she said breathlessly. "It's about my grandmother Eugenia. She must have gotten lost and—"

A hideous noise pierced the night. The entire mansion groaned and moaned and stretched. Miraculously, Trude Brandt didn't offer a peep in the wake of this racket. Lilith gripped the blanket, staring at the spot above the headboard. It swelled like a balloon filled with water. Thin lines formed a web until a fissure ran swiftly from floor to ceiling and the wall split open. In the darkness beyond, something resembling a gigantic rose clawed its way to freedom.

Lilith held on to Panther, Panther held on to Lilith. They sat stock still, mesmerized.

Chunks of plaster flew, dust swirled in the air. A slithering sound signified the passage of something long and twisted. The heads emerged, bringing with them that characteristic stench of the garden. There were more of them this time. They hung from enormous stems like flower buds.

"I told you he'll chop off your head if you won't sleep, didn't I?" Agatha's raspy voice filled the room. Lilith couldn't answer, staring at one head in particular.

"Do you see..." she croaked.

Panther whined nervously.

The head in question smiled at them. Lilith pinched herself, wanting to wake up from this horrific dream, because that head belonged...that head belonged...to her, with Gwen's and Daphne's flanking it on either side. Worse, it had on her rosy beret.

Lilith touched her face, to make sure it was still there.

"Hello," said the head. "Excuse me. Do you terribly mind adjusting my beret? It keeps sliding down."

Lilith, cold sweat breaking out on her skin, crawled over in a trance and pulled the beret slightly back, before scurrying back to the trembling Panther.

"Oh, thank you. This is so much better," said Lilith's head.

"I'm thirsty," said Daphne's.

"Yeah, can we have more water?" chimed in Gwen's.

On unbending legs, Lilith made it to the bathroom and back, a full glass quivering in her hand.

"Don't just stand there, little miss, go on."

Seeing Lilith's uncertainty, Monika's head said encouragingly, "Just pour it on us, meine kleine."

Lilith did. She watered them like flowers, glass after glass, and the more she poured, the more they demanded, growing into a gigantic bush with human heads in place of blooms and canes in place of arms, torsos merging and disappearing into the darkness. The ceiling dropped lower, the walls shifted closer, and Lilith could've sworn that she was no longer in a guest room but in a grotesquely intertwined garden.

The heads advanced, rustling like leaves on a breeze, and both girl and dog retreated until there was nowhere else to go.

"You still think watering it was a good idea?" hissed Panther from the corner of his muzzle.

"At least now we have someone else to talk to about Rosehead," whispered Lilith.

"So that was your brilliant plan? I see. Excellent. Why don't you go ahead and ask them?"

"And so I will," said Lilith, clearing her throat. "Excuse me, may I ask you a question?"

"Little miss wants to ask us a question," sneered Agatha. Monika chuckled, passing on the virus of laughter to Sabrina and Norman Rosenthal, to Gwen and Daphne, and, to Lilith's horror, her own head. "Is that why you summoned us?"

"Well, er...yes. Yes, it is. Excuse me if it sounds strange, but may I ask you whose side you are on?"

"Zere are no sides, little miss, zere iz only ze garden." Agatha's head shifted closer and hung merely inches away.

Lilith swayed, overwhelmed by the sugary stink, close to fainting. "Are you—all of you—are you part of the garden?"

"Everything iz part of ze garden, little miss. And ze garden is part of everything," she sneered.

This wasn't going very well, considering the fact that the stem-arms were poking the girl with their thorns, enveloping her and the dog like a cocoon. Lilith picked up Panther while there was room to move.

"May I ask you about Rosehead? What's going to happen on Saturday?"

"She knows the day. Little miss knows the day." Agatha's head seemed impressed, judging by its thin eyebrows flying upward. Others murmured their agreement.

"I'll water you some more. If you tell me," added Lilith.

"And why should we? Why should we tell you anything at all?" asked Agatha.

"I'm...my grandfather...I'll be heir to this property—to the entire Bloom property; the rose garden, too. I think I have a right to know." Lilith's confidence slowly returned. "One way or another, I'll find out eventually."

The heads congregated in a semi-circle to consult. Their voices crackled unintelligible gibberish. Neither Lilith nor Panther could understand what they said.

At last, they parted.

"You've been exceptionally nice to us. You've fed us water, unlike zat unworzy imbecile." Agatha's head leered at the girl.

"And blood!" came from the back.

"And blood. We will show you."

"We will show you, we will show you!" echoed through the bush. The heads giggled, cackled, and screeched. Their stem-arms scooped up Lilith and Panther off the floor and the entire party dashed upward.