Her research had revealed that not only was there a specimen of the plant right here in the middle of Copenhagen, it also happened to be in bloom right now for no less than the third time in only four years. A botanical miracle, the experts called it, since normally the plant bloomed once only every ten years. It must be happy here in Scandinavia, far from its native Indonesia, since it kept flowering. Or maybe there were just more bugs here that got excited about the stench of death, Heloise thought.

She had seen photos of the plant online. It was enormous—ten feet tall—with dark-purple petals and a gigantic light-yellow inflorescence that rose right up into the air like a flagpole. She could easily see why it was also known as the “penis flower,” and when she spotted the plant in the Palm House, the nickname’s meaning became even clearer: the yellow spathe was no longer erect and looked like an oversized caterpillar, drooping down dead from the plant.

Flaccid, limp, and lacking umph.

“You’re a little too late.”

Heloise turned toward the nasal voice and saw a gangly young boy with long hair wearing a dark-green employee’s uniform jacket.

He nodded toward the plant. “It’s withering now.”

“Yes, I see that.” Heloise smiled. “It looks pretty done.”

“You should have been here last week. It was simply magnificent then.”

Magnificent?

That wasn’t exactly the word that had popped into Heloise’s mind when she had seen pictures of it. Fascinating, yes. Big, impressive, and crazy, yes. But magnificent? That Frankenstein’s monster of a botanical specimen? No!

She walked a couple of steps up the ramp that had been set up beside the plant, leaned in close to it, and cautiously inhaled. She looked puzzled, inhaled more deeply, and then looked down at the boy.

“It doesn’t smell like anything?”

“No, not anymore,” he said. “It’s only when the flower first opens and the temperature inside it rises to human body temperature that it smells of rotting flesh.”

“Human body temperature?”

“Yes, about ninety-eight point six degrees. Then the plant emits a steam of chemical sulfur compounds, which spread through the rain forest and attract carrion beetles and flies, which land on the warm spadix and make their way down to the meat-colored spathe toward the stench and the heat.”

“Gross,” Heloise said, making a face.

“No, it’s not gross. It’s ingenious.”

“Ingenious?”

“Yes, just think: it shows that the flower is intelligent. It’s devious, cunning. You really can’t help but admire it, right?”

“Huh.” Heloise stepped back down off the podium again. “I think it’s a little morbid.”