Page 79 of In the Garden of Monsters

“Lillian disappeared,” I blurted out, my tears beginning anew.

“This is ridiculous. You said there was snow?” Gala asked with a frown. “If that is true, why would you go out in a storm?”

I ignored her. “We need to tell the police,” I implored Ignazio, anger rising through my sorrow.

He shook his head, his face sullen. “There isn’t much of a police force in the village, but the moment it is safe to go outside, I’ll fetch thecommissario.”

Jack patted my back to soothe me as I sobbed uncontrollably.

“Do not worry, little Proserpina,” Dalí chimed in. “We will find your friend.” He sounded genuinely concerned, and he looked resolute, but I had been around him enough to know that he was likely more interested in the thrill of discovering someone dead than anything else.

Gala wasn’t nearly as magnanimous. “You shouldn’t have gone out in the middle of the night. What on earth were you thinking? This is not a vacation, Julia Lombardi.”

She spoke my name with more than her usual venom. I expected her to continue berating me, but she only tugged at the shoulder of Dalí’s robe to make him rise and follow her back to their quarters.

“Come, Julia, you need sleep,” Jack said softly, rising.

I couldn’t move. “Someone should stay with Paolo, and wait for Lillian, in case she finds her way back.”

Ignazio put a hot hand on my arm. “He’ll be taken care of, and I’ll be here, Julia. You should rest.” There was something different in his voice—something akin to resignation.

Jack brought me to my room. I expected him to stay and comfort me, but he unceremoniously left me at the door and bade me good-night. As he turned from me, I thought I saw him smirk, but that didn’t make sense.

Telling myself that grief was working my mind overtime, I locked the door behind me, but I didn’t undress, in case I needed to go to Lillian if she returned. I didn’t expect sleep, yet it engulfed me in an emptiness of black as soon as my head hit the pillow.

20

I awoke at dawn. The first rays of the morning sun had barely begun to filter through the trees. To my astonishment, there was no snow on the ground at all. The road from theboschettoto the village was clear.

A knock at the door jolted me from the view. It was Jack.

“You saw all the snow, didn’t you?” I pointed to the window.

He nodded. “Snow squalls can be terrifying,” he said, his voice holding a hint of condescension.

I wanted to scream at him.It wasn’t just a squall.We had been trudging through several inches of snow by the time we reached the village gate. Ceres had sent the giants and the snow. She had purposefully tried to kill us. I couldn’t even begin to explain it to him. Irritated, I pushed past him and made my way to the small salon.

Gala frowned when she saw Jack trailing behind me. “Did your friend turn up?” she asked, her tone making it clear that she was still annoyed. The look on my face must have said enough because she didn’t wait for me to respond. “You should never have invited her here. It wasn’t your place. You’ve ruined our last two days. We’re not paying you for them.”

I could only stare at her, mouth agape. Lillian wasmissing.I could hardly fathom how she could be so cruel.

“Now, now, Gala, darling, I think she’s earned her pay,” Jack said, sidling up to her.

She shrugged him off. “Youcertainly haven’t.”

Dalí gave me a sympathetic smile. “Worry not, my Proserpina. We will find your friend. And I will pay you.” This last part was said in a conspiratorial whisper as Gala stepped aside to give Jack a dressing-down.

Ignazio appeared, a tray of pastries in his hand. “Take one, and we’ll go search for Lillian. The truck is waiting.”

I had no appetite. “Did you send for thecommissario?”

“Yes. He’s gathering up his men—they’re volunteers, mind you. I’ll remain here to await them.”

I was relieved but also concerned about such a small police force. After thanking Ignazio, I asked if we could go to theboschettoimmediately. Though I didn’t want to return to the garden, I was sure my friend was there, and I was anxious to begin the search for her. I didn’t have high hopes of finding Lillian alive. Yet looking for her gave me purpose, something I could do. I had to at least find her, and for that I would brave Ceres’s twisted wrath.

There wasn’t any snow outside the garden, but once we left the truck and crossed over the makeshift bridge into theboschetto, I was surprised to see a dusting still remained. I shivered, not so much with the cold, but because the unnatural feeling of Sacro Bosco and its stone statues filled the air around me even more than usual as I stepped foot on the trail beyond the planks that crossed the stream.

I stopped the group at the fork in the path. “We should stick together,” I said. I could see the giant head of Orlando Furioso on the lower path, the feet of the intact woodsman in his hands. With the woodsman disappearing from the road, I wasn’t surprised to see the statues had returned to the proper places. But Lillian was missing, Paolo had a broken leg, and I did not doubt what I had seen in the snow the night before. Now the sight of the giant men made my heart pound faster.

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