Rosehead

Chapter 18. The Fortuitous Ally

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.