Rosehead

Chapter 22. Alfred's True Colors

How long Lilith stood in total darkness, she couldn't tell. She felt numb. Her acute sense of smell picked up a metallic tang; her mouth tasted bitter. White spots danced in front of her eyes. Doctor Baumgartner's death-scream bounced around in her head, making her want to part with her half-digested breakfast. At some point, her every thought evaporated and was replaced with one clear message: You're a murderer, just like your grandfather.

On the periphery of her senses, Lilith detected movement. A sickly sweet smell reached her. She wheeled around.

"Grandfather?"

Alfred switched on the light. "Well...I'm impressed. Nice work, my dear girl, nice work. I knew I was not mistaken in my choice. That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Clothed in a black suit, he stood by the door, a charming smile making his eyes twinkle.

Lilith's tongue wouldn't move. She glanced around for any sign of struggle. The room looked exactly as it did when she entered an hour ago. The floor sparkled with a polished shine, the circular wall sported golden frame upon golden frame of Bloom & Co.'s achievements, and the rug lay unruffled, pinned by three leather chairs and a desk, on which stood the gilded lamp, whole. Lilith studied her hand. A long cut decorated her palm, still bleeding.

"How did your session go?" asked Alfred.

"Is he dead?" croaked Lilith.

"Is who dead?"

"The doctor." Lilith began to shake.

"Doctor Wilhelmus Baumgartner? Why would he be dead, my dear? He hurried off to his next appointment. Asked me to apologize to you for his quick departure. A busy man; very sought-after psychotherapist, one of the best in his field. He left me a report on you." Grandfather pulled a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket.

Lilith stared. A minute ago she held it in her bloodied hand. Now it vanished.

"Did the room eat him?" she asked anxiously.

"Are you feeling all right?" He stretched out a hand.

"Don't touch me!" Lilith jumped back.

"Let's sit down, shall we? No good talking on your feet. Amuse your grandfather." Alfred motioned to the chairs.

"What happened to the doctor?" Lilith pleaded, realizing she had no witnesses to rely on. Who would believe a twelve- year-old girl pronounced mad by a certified professional?

"What do you think happened to him?" Grandfather stuck the report back into his pocket.

A sudden inspiration seized Lilith. "You were spying on us the whole time, weren't you?" She stepped behind a chair.

"What makes you say so? It would be inappropriate for me to participate in your private therapy session unbeknownst to you, wouldn't it?" said Alfred cheerily.

It took an enormous effort for Lilith to steady her voice. "Excuse me for saying this, dear Grandfather, but I believe that it is equally inappropriate to lie to your own granddaughter whom you yourself have decided to appoint as your heir. About Rosehead, especially."

The room quavered.

Alfred glanced about suspiciously. "Lie? I never lie to my family. By the way, glad you agreed, my dear. Never doubted you for a second."

"Agreed to what?"

"Why, to becoming the Bloom heir, of course," he said, his attention on the ceiling.

"You couldn't have possibly heard me saying that unless you were in the room. The doctor said it's soundproof."

"Did he?" Alfred craned his neck, looking around.