Chapter 11. The Ordinary Morning

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The night proved uneventful. Gabby and Daniel stood over their daughter until she swallowed two sleeping pills and passed out on a guest daybed brought into their room. Lilith saw no dreams and woke to the grumble of trucks and Panther licking her face. She yawned and propped herself up, wondering about the commotion. Both her parents snored quietly. Layers of white covers separated them down the middle, their faces turned to opposite sides.

"Did you hit me with a thousand pillows? Because it feels like it," Lilith said, rubbing her eyes.

"No, only with one cow, and only because I'm a dog and don't know any better," Panther growled under his breath, to make sure he wasn't overheard.

"What? Oh, that. I'm sorry, okay? What else was I supposed to say?"

"Good morning, for starters."

"Good morning."

"And you still owe me steak." Panther curled his tail and gamboled to the window.

Lilith stumbled behind him.

It rained. The air smelled of dust and warm summer. Water seemed to have washed the stink away. Lilith took a deep breath, watching a slew of activity unfold below.

Her parents' room faced the motor court. Several large Bloom & Co. freighters occupied most of it. Workers in red uniforms loaded them with crates full of roses, to be shipped all over the world.

People paid astronomical amounts of money for Bloom & Co. flowers. While a typical rose lasted up to twelve days, a Bloom & Co. rose lived for over a month. It didn't wilt and its blossom was perfectly round, ranging in shade from light scarlet to deep ruby. Never losing its color, after a month it dried out and was reused in dry bouquets. No wedding, no funeral, no important celebration was possible without Bloom's roses. They became a legend, started in thirteenth century by Ludwig Bloom who stumbled on a wild growth of bushes and settled to culture them.

Lilith heard this story from her mother numerous times. Her father could care less. He was out of touch with Alfred Bloom precisely for the reason of not wanting to continue the family business, migrating to America to breed whippets, the very creatures his father despised.

Lilith took another lungful of air.

It was an ordinary morning, and she desperately wished for it to stay this way. First, the house wasn't moving. Second, the usual rotten sweetness in the air was replaced by the delicate fragrance of roses, the type you'd expect to dwell in a florist's shop. And third, there were no weird noises, no chopping sounds, no sighs, no—

Something, or someone, knocked on the roof.

Lilith jumped, her heart hammering. "Did you hear that?"

"I heard several things," Panther growled between licks. "One of them was your question on whether or not I heard that, depending, of course, what that in your universe means, because in my universe—"

Gabby mumbled and turned over. The mattress creaked. Both Lilith and Panther froze. Neither of them wanted to spoil the morning. It took several painful minutes for Gabby's breath to slow down, when another sharp knock made Lilith start.

She looked at Panther. He shrugged, as much as you can imagine a whippet shrugging. More knocks rained down in a rapid staccato. Curious, Lilith leaned out and craned her neck to look, which was a very bad idea, because that same moment the ordinary morning came to an end.

A huge crow took off from the roof and swooped down, cawing. Lilith shielded her face, lost hold of the windowsill, and nearly toppled out onto the trucks below. The crow nabbed her head and zoomed into the garden, complaining all the way.

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