Rosehead

Chapter 33. Lilith's Sacrifice

Sharp prickles cut through Lilith's clothes and dug painfully into her skin. She felt a flood of relief. She did it. She saved the Bloom family. She closed her eyes and waited for death, hoping it would be over quickly. 

A second passed, then another. Then a minute. Nothing happened. Lilith didn't dare open her eyes. She swayed. Heavy footsteps echoed in her ears. Her scalp erupted in goose bumps. As absurd as it was to worry about such an insignificant detail in the face of being consumed by an otherworldly beast, Lilith realized that in her haste to get to the mansion, she lost her new beret. Somehow, this loss made her heart ache; it made her wish for one more hug, one more kiss, one more word from her mother.

Unable to hold the brave façade anymore, horrified beyond measure, Lilith burst into tears. So big was her grief that she lost all sense of time and orientation, crying in earnest and hoping against hope that maybe somehow she'd escape this nightmare and come out of the garden alive. 

All movement stopped. Rosehead lowered the girl and set her on the grass. Lilith sat up, cradling her legs under her skirt and wiping her face. She was in a clearing, surrounded by a wall of tangled shrubbery so tall that it formed a roofless rotunda. The silvery moon hung in the black sky, watching the girl with interest. 

"The lair has grown anew," she whispered, looking around.

In the middle of the glade a cluster of bushes shivered, and something—no, someone—grunted. Slowly, the greenery parted. Dozens of flower-eyes cast a ghostly reddish glow on the crumpled shape in the middle.

Lilith covered her mouth.

Alfred Bloom, his face swollen and scratched, his suit torn, sat up dizzily, taking in his surroundings. As comprehension dawned on him, he let out an anguished scream.

A shadow covered the clearing. Lilith instinctively raised her head. Above them, level with the hedge top, hovered the mansion. In place of its roof gaped a black hole. Hundreds of heads sprouted from it like a bouquet of hellish roses, jawing and yakking and gossiping all at once, apparently excited. It was their turn to witness a spectacle that was bound to give a nightmare to anyone but Lilith, who felt rather elated by having familiar company; company of those who—as horrible as they were— became her friends of sorts over the week she spent here. Lilith smiled involuntarily. One of the heads winked at her, or maybe she imagined it. It didn't matter.  She was still alive. For some reason the mansion, or Rosehead, or some other deity, delayed her execution. Why? To give the audience enough time to settle in for the show?

"There! There she is!" Alfred yelped, brandishing a finger at his granddaughter.

Lilith balked. Throbbing fury filled her to the brim. "Why, it's very nice to see you too, Grandfather. Did you enjoy your flight?" she said levelly, scrambling to stand. If she died tonight, she'd die with dignity. "Did you wipe the piss off your face already, or would you like me to bring you a towel?"

Alfred clambered to his fours, talking to Rosehead. "Well, are you blind? There's your food!"

"I see you made a deal with Rosehead," said Lilith hotly. "A special meal for a special monster. Bait, that's what you told me I am, bait for Rosehead. So much love for your granddaughter, I can feel it pulsing in your heart. You would be delighted to know, however, that I made a deal with the mansion in turn. Want to know what we agreed on?"

The ground heaved. Lilith shifted uneasily.

Alfred stared at her. His eyes sunk, his arms and legs shook with the effort of propping himself up. "Keep quiet," he spat. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You're only making things worse for yourself."