Page 86 of Monster Among the Roses (Fairy Tale Quartet 1)

Shock and confusion mixed with anger. But seriously, what the fuck? I’d just survived a week from hell, almost lost my mother, and still might lose her if she didn’t recover. Why would he do this to me?

Offering no explanation, he held out his hand. “The keys to the truck, if you please.”

I blinked, not quite able to process what he was saying. After a second of making no sense of his words at all, I shook my head, even as I dug the keys from my pocket. As I dropped them into his waiting palm, I said, “I don’t understand. What happened? Is this because I missed four days?”

“Of course not.” Henry stepped closer, his eyes narrowed. “I thought I made it explicitly clear to you not to hurt her.”

I squinted, even more confused. “You mean Isobel?”

He drew in a sharp, livid breath as if offended I would dare to say her name.

“I didn’t hurt her,” was all I could think to say. “I would never.”

“Oh really?” he challenged, lifting his eyebrows. “Then explain her rose garden to me.”

With no idea what he meant by that, I blew past him, marching into the house and toward her garden.

“Hey,” he boomed, hurrying to catch up. I began to walk faster. He latched a hand around my upper arm just as I shoved open the French doors leading into the conservatory. But I didn’t need to take another step. All the heads of her roses had been chopped off and lay scattered on the ground like dead soldiers who’d lost a war.

I stood there, frozen, gawking. Air rushed from my lungs. “Who…” I gasped for breath and whirled toward Henry. “Who did this?”

I would kill the bastard. I’d grab him—or her—by the neck and smash his head into a wall for touching Isobel’s precious roses. How could anyone be so cruel?

“Who do you think?” Henry said quietly. “Isobel did it herself.”

I blinked, not understanding. But the look in his eyes narrowed until I knew it had to be true. His expression was too bleak, too defeated.

Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the roses. “No. No way. She wouldn’t.”

“I caught her in the act, scissors in hand.”

“But…” My head wouldn’t stop moving back and forth, denying it. “Why?” I croaked. “Why would she do this?”

“You tell me.” His voice was low and full of venom.

I glared at him. “If you think I caused this, that I did something to make her upset enough to do this? You’re fucking insane. I’d never cause her this much despair.”

Needing to see Isobel, to learn what was wrong, I started toward the library. But Henry caught my arm, his fingers digging deep into my bicep.

I growled at him. “I’m going to find Isobel.” And then I was going to kill whoever had hurt her.

“No. You’re leaving. Right now.”

I barked out a harsh laugh. Yeah right. The woman I loved was suffering. No one was going to keep me from seeing her.

“Get out of my way.” I didn’t want to hurt the old man, but he was beginning to piss me off.

“Constance,” Henry called, “call the police.”

Shocked, I glanced over to find Constance, Lewis, Mrs. Pan and even Kit standing there, gaping at me. Mrs. Pan was crying softly into a tissue, Kit was hiding behind her as if scared of me, and Constance held a phone in one trembling hand. Lewis stepped forward, murmuring my name gently as if to call me off.

I just stared at them, confused. “What the fuck is going on?” I demanded, only to turn back to Henry. “Do you really have no idea why she’s so upset? None at all?”

He finally wavered, looking sad instead of mad. “I wish I did.”

“Then give me ten minutes with her,” I pleaded, “and I’ll find out. I swear. This isn’t about me. It can’t be.”

But he stubbornly shook his head no. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

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