The Monsters of Rookhaven, стр. 22
One figure in particular caught her attention. A creature with long bony limbs and claws with its skin hanging off. It seemed to be howling and attempting to devour everything around it. Looking at it made her uneasy.
Mirabelle laid a hand on the door, closed her eyes and nodded to herself, her mouth moving as she said something under her breath. Jem could feel the air getting colder around her and she shivered.
Mirabelle opened her eyes and smiled at her.
‘That’s done. I like to say hello.’
Hello to who? Jem wondered. She felt relieved as they made their way back up the slope and headed towards the kitchen.
The kitchen was grey and dusty, and Jem thought it peculiar that a family with such a large dining room would have a kitchen that looked as if it hadn’t been used in decades.
‘Let me show you the garden,’ said Mirabelle.
She took a step towards the back door, then pulled up suddenly before opening it. She watched the sun setting behind the trees, a faraway look in her eyes.
‘What is it?’ asked Jem.
‘I just need a moment. It’s not safe yet,’ said Mirabelle without taking her eyes off the sun, her expression still dreamlike.
Jem turned to watch the sunset through the window: livid tongues of orange and red in a sky bruised to a deep rich purple. They faded as the sun finally disappeared.
Mirabelle sagged, sighing with what seemed to be a mixture of relief and disappointment. She opened the back door and motioned Jem to step through.
It was warm in the garden. The night air hissed softly through the leaves. Jem could see enough to notice that the garden was overgrown, but there was a rightness to its wildness, a kind of pleasing symmetry to the chaos.
Mirabelle had deftly unhooked a bucket from beside the back door. Now she swung it back and forth, whistling as she went. Jem stopped abruptly when she saw what lay ahead of them. There was a huddled mass of flowers clumped together on a patch of grass. They were the same type of flowers that had attacked her and Tom. They were slightly smaller than their counterparts on the path, but there was no mistaking the thick stalks and drooping heads. They looked as if they were sleeping.
Mirabelle looked over her shoulder at Jem. ‘Come on. They won’t bite. I won’t let them.’
Mirabelle held the bucket up so that Jem could see its contents. It was filled with bones. Some had a little meat and gristle still attached. ‘Flower food,’ Mirabelle said.
She took a bone out of the bucket and waved it almost serenely back and forth in the air. One of the flowers straightened up and unfurled its petals, then looked directly at Jem and hissed.
Jem had a strong urge to run, but felt a hand squeezing her arm. Mirabelle looked at her reassuringly.
‘Don’t be afraid. They won’t hurt you. Not while I’m here.’
Mirabelle threw a bone high above her head. It wheeled end over end, and as it arced towards the flowers more of them unfurled their petals and a soft peeling sound filled the air. As the bone made its descent, at least three of the flowers snapped at the air in an attempt to grab it. One was successful, and Jem watched in horrified fascination as the bone landed in what passed for a mouth. The flower sucked it down, while its companions shrieked and hissed in anger.
‘Hush now!’ Mirabelle shouted, taking a step towards them.
The flowers whipped their necks about for a moment, before settling down, their heads bobbing gently as they regarded Mirabelle.
Mirabelle held another bone out and urged one of the flowers forward like someone coaxing a dog with a biscuit. The flower leaned down and took it gently from Mirabelle, then straightened up as it swallowed it back.
‘These are a young batch. The Flowers of Divine Lapsidy have been protecting the house for hundreds of years. They do tend to wander a little, but they’ve made a solemn promise never to go into the outside world.’
Mirabelle handed Jem a chicken bone. ‘You try it.’
Jem took the bone. She was keenly aware that several of the flowers were now crowding against each other as they jostled for position, vying for her attention. Jem tensed herself and raised the bone towards the nearest flower. The flower bowed its head and slowly took the bone between its cupped petals, threw its head back and gulped it down. Jem was surprised when it started cooing, then dipped its head towards her, as if bowing.
‘Go on,’ said Mirabelle.
Jem reached out and touched the flower’s petals. They felt like silk. The flower nuzzled her cheek and cooed some more while its companions chirruped and murmured as if in appreciation.
‘You see?’ Mirabelle giggled. ‘Nothing to be afraid of.’
Mirabelle scattered more bones around the flowers and they proceeded to pick them up and eat them with a little more civility while Jem and Mirabelle sat watching from a nearby bench. There was a symphony of lip smacking, crunching, biting and gentle hissing. Jem was utterly hypnotized by the scene. She shook her head in disbelief.
‘What is this place?’ she asked.
Mirabelle shrugged. ‘Home.’
‘But it’s separate from everything . . . and you’re all . . .’
Mirabelle tilted her head and waited.
‘Different,’ said Jem, feeling as soon as she said the word that it was the wrong thing to say. She was relieved when Mirabelle threw her head back and laughed.
‘We’re people, like you. But not like you. We’re—’
‘Just people,’ said Jem, nodding in understanding.
‘We’re family,’ said Mirabelle.
‘Why do you hide?’
Mirabelle started to swing her legs, looking at her shoes as she spoke. ‘Once, long ago,