Will you dare to gaze upon the monster among the roses?
MONSTER AMONG THE ROSES
Fairy Tale Quartet #1
Linda Kage
Releasing July 24, 2017
“Do you know how to
get to the rose garden?”
“No, you can’t go
there. A monster lives there.”
Shaw
Hollander is desperate.
Broke,
unemployed, and determined to help his ailing mother, he falls on the good
graces of a wealthy benefactor who is willing to give Shaw a job at his mansion
in order to pay off his mother’s debts. Suddenly finding himself surrounded by
lavish riches, he has no idea what his duties truly entail until he’s sent to
the rose garden and meets the tragically mutilated Isobel.
This Beauty
and the Beast story holds true to the core of the fable while shaking off the
element of fantasy and dragging it into present day reality. Shaw and Isobel
are ready to let you climb into their four-wheel-drive pickup and take a ride
with them into their version of happily ever after, but only if you first dare
to gaze upon the monster among the roses.
Great.
I was lost. Shading my hand over my eyes, I decided the far right
should take me in the general direction I wanted to go. So I went
that way, only to end up at the edge of the house, but not where I’d
started, and not close enough to the rose garden to get me inside.
Strangely
enough, however, a boy played outside, using sidewalk chalk to color
a picture of…what the hell was he drawing? Maybe some kind of dying
animal with blood gushing from its side and an arrow sticking out of
its back.
It
didn’t look right, whatever it was.
I
shook my head and jerked my gaze from the disturbingly morbid sketch.
“Hey, kid.”
The
boy jumped and looked up, hopping to his feet and backing away from
me as I
were the scary one.
No
idea who he was; he looked too young to be Mr. Nash’s son from the
photos I’d seen, plus he had white blond hair, the complete
opposite shade of the young man in all the pictures in Mr. Nash’s
office. But he was here, so he’d have to do.
Wanting
to appear as non-threatening as possible, I smile and waved. “Hey.
Sorry for bothering you, but do you know how to get to the rose
garden?”
That
must’ve been the wrong question to ask. His face drained of color.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You can’t go there.”
What?
“Why not?”
“A
monster lives in there. Half her face is melted off. She eats the
thorns from the roses so she can spit them at people, stabbing them
in the neck to slice their throat open until they bleed out and die.”
O…kay.
Somehow,
I’d stumbled across one of the children of the corn. Nice.
Lifting
my eyebrows, I drew my own step in reverse. Time to retreat. “Dude,
that’s gruesome.”
Please
don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.
He
gave a serious nod. “It’s true. My mom’ll tell you she’s real
too.”
“Oh
yeah?” Relieved he wasn’t claiming he’d sprouted from Satan’s
cabbage patch but actually had a mother, I glanced around for this
wise, all-knowing parent of his. Maybe she
could tell me how to get to the conservatory. “Who’s your mom?”
“The
cook,” he said, puffing up his chest as if that were the most
important title in the house. “She’s worked here for fifteen
years. She knows everything about this place there is to know.
So…don’t go into the roses. You won’t come out alive. Lewis,
the groundskeeper, doesn’t even go in there.”
Aha!
So this place did
have a gardener. I knew it.
I took
a second to ponder why I was being sent to garden then, when Mr. Nash
already paid someone to maintain the place. But if Lewis refused to
go into the roses, as the kid had said, maybe it was rumored to be
haunted or something, and that was where I came in. Then again, why
wouldn’t Mr. Nash just hire a new groundskeeper who wasn’t so
scared and superstitious? Then I stopped pondering the whys. It
wasn’t my place to question strange, rich people and their strange,
oddball orders. I was just here to do what I was told and save my
mom.
Nodding
gravely to the boy, I said, “Thanks for the warning, kid. But I
think I’ll take my chances. Which way?”
He
looked at me as if he’d never see me again because I was headed
forth to my death, then he lifted his hand and quietly pointed toward
another opening in the path of bushes.
“Thanks.”
I nodded and got out of there before some of his creepiness started
rubbing off.
Fortunately,
he’d steered me in the right direction. I landed right at the
outdoor entrance into the glass gazebo. Propping the door open, I
carted my supplies inside and then paused to breathe deeply.
But
fuck me, it smelled good in here. You didn’t have to be a flower
enthusiast for this garden to amaze you. It was like the holy shrine
of roses. A hallowed kind of reverence filled my chest. Haunted or
not, I liked it. It felt peaceful and yet revitalizing.
Suddenly
intimidated because I didn’t want to mess anything up in such a
perfect place, my hands shook as I flipped back to the pages about
rose care. The more I skimmed, however, the more confused I became.
These
roses didn’t need a lick of my attention. They were all in
excellent condition as if someone already tended to them. Maybe
creepy kid had been wrong, and Lewis the groundskeeper came in here
hourly to care for them.
Still…What
the hell?
I
frowned and slid my finger along the silken petals of a blood red
rose. Perfectly pruned, weeded, and watered. It was as flawless as a
thing could get.
But I
couldn’t go tell Mr. Nash they didn’t need anything, could I?
What if he fired me for lack of work to do, or because he thought I
was lazy and lying about the roses not needing care?
I
looked around again, searching for anything to water, or clip, or
re-soil. It was crazy how thriving every single flower looked.
Maybe
this was some kind of test, and Mr. Nash wanted me to fail. What if
he’d never intended for me to work for him and the contract I’d
signed to save my mom was being burned in the fireplace in this
office as I stood here like a dumbass with nothing to weed.
Confused
and worried, and growing a little angry, I scowled at a wall full of
pink vine roses growing to my right. But they were honestly too
pretty to be glared at, so my mood settled.
I bet
Mom would love them. She was a fan of pink. And flowers. Plus, these
were the good-smelling kind. I’d be a good son if I brought home
such a flower to her. And it seemed as if they grew in abundance, not
as if they were one of the rare breeds Mr. Nash had spoken of. So I
reached for a bloom to pluck it from the vine without even thinking
beyond how much it’d make my mother smile.
Behind
me, a voice growled, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Jumping
half out of my skin because I’d been certain no one had been in
here with me, I whirled around only to gasp, “Shit!”
The
creepy cook’s son hadn’t been lying.
In
front of me stood an irate woman with half her face melted off.
I grew up
on a dairy farm in the Midwest as the youngest of eight children. Now I live in
Kansas with my husband, two daughters, nine cuckoo clocks, and a cat named
Holly. My life's been blessed with lots of people to learn from and love.
Writing's always been a major part my world, and I'm so happy to finally share
some of my stories with other romance lovers.
I'm a member of Romance Writers of America, and I've been through a writing
correspondence class in children's literature from The Institute of Children's
Literarture, and then I continued my writing lessons by majoring in English
with an emphasis in creative fiction writing from Pittsburg State
University.















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