The Nutcracker Bleeds (16 page)

“Actually,”
she said, looking up at him and even managing a short smile. “I believe that
sounds quite good.”

5

From
sheltering shadows, Clara watched Anne leave the attic with the nutcracker,
vanishing into the tunnels beyond. The child was angry. This was not right. Not
right at all!

The
Master had sent her out to find the woman named Anne, and she had done a lovely
job with pretending to be lost and all that. She’d told all her lies perfectly
and answered Anne’s questions without fault. For a moment, it had almost seemed
Anne could get her into the Lady’s kingdom to spy! But alas, that had not
worked out. Even so, Clara had worked without error–but what she’d not
anticipated was that the woman would be so pleasant in every sense. She was so
nice to look at. She smelled like skin despite the dirt that had settled on
her. She was so very pleasant to sleep upon.

Clara
had been supposed to bring her here. The mouse Sllevk had returned to the
Master and was instructed to bring a few others with him to apprehend the woman
in this place, but Clara had not wanted them to take her. She headed them off
and tried to convince them that Anne was not there, but they had shoved her
down. The doll had felt helpless, because as much as she wanted to be loyal to
her master–as she had been for years and years–she wanted Anne for herself so
much! But not only had Anne gotten away from the mice, but she was no longer
with Clara either!

Now
Clara would also have to tell the Master that the meddlesome nutcracker was
here.
He did not deserve to have Anne!
And the Master would not be
pleased with that
at all
.

The
child doll–who was actually very much older than she looked–stomped her foot in
desperation. Quickly, she looked around for something to destroy. An abandoned
bug nest was caked to the side of an old chest, and she gripped it tightly,
pulling it loose after several tugs.

Clara
slammed the nest against the floor, breaking it to bits as she grunted
stressfully. The insects were long gone, but she wouldn’t have cared if they’d
swarmed around her. She intended to destroy it fully.

After
she’d worn herself out, she slammed the nest down, giving the largest remaining
lump of it a good kick. Then, the girl doll began to cry.

She
sobbed, and welling pressure behind her eyes gave her a headache, but there
were no tears rolling out from behind her inset glass eyes. Still, she rubbed
at them.

“What’s
wrong, little girl? Why
ever
are you crying?”

The
very dry voice was unlike anything Clara had ever heard before. The deep,
sensual voice of a woman, or perhaps the higher–pitched growl of a man. She
turned to see a doll dressed in purple sitting atop the dusty chest, legs
crossed and swinging casually. I was an attractive thing, but Clara thought it
had a sly grin. That smirk told Clara that the toy didn’t care why she was
crying. It was only taunting her.

“Who
are you?” she demanded, none too warmly.

“You
may call me
Edge
,” the pretty male doll said, his grin widening in a way
Clara didn’t like.

She
appraised him a moment, a scowl of disgust never leaving her face.

“You’re
scary,” she noted.

“How
nice of you to notice,” Edge mocked. “Seems I’m dealing with a child prodigy.
Master of the obvious.”

Clara
stomped her foot and clenched her fists.

“I
don’t like you!” she declared.

She
looked around her feet to search for something she could throw at the talking
oddity with the evil eyes. A remnant of the bug nest rested nearby and she
promptly scooped it up and heaved it. Her aim was surprisingly accurate, even
with its spontaneity. The clump headed straight for the toy’s featureless
chest.

Clara
was shocked when the doll named Edge reached out and caught the piece in his
fist.

“It’s
fine that you don’t like me,” he said, eyeing the dirt before crumbling it into
tiny grains. “But you like
her
don’t you? So pretty and soft? That’s
what your little tantrum was about?”

Anne.
Of course he was talking about Anne. He could tell? He’d been watching her? The
girl crossed her arms and turned her back to him.

“That’s
none of your business!”

She
heard a light chuckle. “It’s just that we seem to have a lot in common, you and
I. Both wanting something we can’t have…”

His
disturbing voice trailed off, letting the thought sink into her mind. Finally,
it did.

“You
too?” she asked, turning around to face him.

As
if this was an invitation, Edge jumped agilely down from the top of the chest
to the floor. Clara noticed the large blade the toy carried on his back, but by
this time, she was much too mystified to run away. He stepped up to her,
kneeling down to look her in the eye, peering through his long black hair.
Clara noticed that he was very close to Anne’s size.

“I
have an idea burrowing inside my head like a hungry insect,” he told her,
tapping a finger against his porcelain temple. “And that idea tells me that if
you and I work together, we can both get what we want.”

The
girl’s face lit up at the notion, but then fell again almost immediately.

“It’s
not possible,” she said, looking down. “I could never betray my master.”

“That’s
why you have to be
clever
.” He lifted her chin, tilting her face to look
into his red eyes. “There doesn’t have to be any betrayal. You see, there is a
way to work around your problem. I know a bit about what’s going on here, and
if I understand correctly, there is more than one female that will keep down
your master’s wrath.”

“Yes,
that is true,” Clara considered. “But the Master of the toys is nearly
impossible to get to. There are so many soldiers.”

“Don’t
worry about them,” Edge said. “Things have turned out rather conveniently. Your
girl is with the nutcracker now, and from
that,
this idea was hatched. I
think that you’ll fill the void in it nicely.”

“You
have a plan?” Clara pondered, putting a small hand to her chin. Then her eyes lit
suddenly. “A plan to get that other girl so that I can have Anne for myself!”

“That’s
right,” Edge said, smiling warmly as if proud of her deduction, “and it will
suit my desires as well. I think I know what your furry, diseased friends have
been up to in this house, and if I’m right, I have a very good plan indeed.”

The
child smiled. Even though his eyes were telling her not to trust him, his words
were too attractive to ignore.

“I w
ill
need to meet your master,” Edge told her. “I’ll pledge my loyalty and then
things will get underway.”

The
child nodded readily.

“Good
girl. If it works properly, you will have the woman.” He paused, standing up.
“As for me, I want that nutcracker.”

“Him?”
Clara asked in disbelief. That nutcracker was an unclean thing! Did Edge not
know?

“He’s
exquisite.”

“But
why would you want that
demon
?” she gasped. “You love him?”

Edge
laughed aloud. The girl became quickly uncertain about him.

“No,
no, child,” Edge laughed. “It’s not as serious as all that.”

The
doll grinned widely with sharp, white teeth, and Clara wanted to back away from
it. It was vicious. The sight of it scared her greatly.

“I
just want his body–with
my
head on it.”

1

“So,”
Anne started, struggling to keep pace with Armand, “explain it once again?”

After
they’d left the attic–Anne with her marble and Armand with his reclaimed
needle–the nutcracker had told her what he’d found out from one of the mice
he’d killed. She was surprised that he’d bothered to elaborate further, and
what he’d told her was not what she’d expected. She tried to stay rational, but
it was nearly too unbelievable. Her mind was having trouble with it. She’d been
forced to ask again.

She
wondered briefly if she’d made him angry by it, but he didn’t so much as sigh
before conceding to her request–no matter how exasperating it might have been.

“It
was a mouse’s bite that made you this way,” he said, walking on as the light of
the cat’s eye led them. “An appointed rodent was to mark one of you–you or Olivia–however,
it made a mistake and marked you both.”

“This
has something to do with a curse,” Anne added from what she could understand.
“A curse which is not at all the same sort of thing that has brought the toys
to life?”

“Couldn’t
be. No.”

He
picked up the pace, rushing them along. Anne was struggling to keep up. Her
mind however, was much busier than her legs moving aimlessly through the dark.
Where were all these curses coming from? And what was the purpose of them?
Honestly, she wasn’t even sure she believed, but for now, she would accept it.
It was like Armand had said: if she had no other explanation, she shouldn’t
dismiss even supernatural possibilities.

“And
why is it that one of us was to be brought here?” she asked.

“I’m
not sure about that,” he said as he walked, looking forward only–not at her.
“All I know is that it’s because of
him
.”

There
was a snarl in the nutcracker’s voice as he said it, but she’d expected him to
hate the ‘him’ he was speaking of. That one was the enemy of all the toys; the
villain in all this. Anne gave a short nod, walking beside Armand this time
instead of behind or in front.

“The
one you have called your enemy,” she acknowledged.

“The
one that
they
call ‘the Master’,” he said, turning a corner. “To
everyone else, he’s known as
the Rat King
.”

The
woman wanted to laugh, but then shuddered instead.

“Sounds
ominous.”

He
didn’t so much as chuckle, but she knew he’d recognized her sarcasm.

“Indeed,”
he said. “But his bite is far worse than his bark.”

They
moved down through the walls of the house, passing through cobwebs that he
removed from their path as if they were vines. She would have much rather been
in the shafts again. That space was much larger and even cleaner than this.
That thought reminded her of how dirty she was. Dust, mouse blood… She
attempted to ignore it.

“Speaking
of rats,” she piped up, perhaps just to ease her nerves. “I haven’t seen one
yet. Only mice.”

“You
don’t want to,” he assured her. He rounded a bend.

“They’re
more vicious?” she asked, but then talked it out for herself. “Of course, I
would imagine that they were. They are much bigger…”

“As
a general rule, mice are smarter,” he interrupted so that she wouldn’t go on forever.
“Lesser, but smarter. They accepted man’s language more readily–with a bit of
alteration of course.”

“By
that, you mean ‘
magic
’?”

“That’s
right,” he answered quickly and then went on with his explanation. “Rats are
very different. He did not see fit to make them as smart as he is. They are
simply animals–savage beasts–but they understand his orders. They fear him and
nothing else. The mice use the rats for whatever they deem necessary; for
transportation or simply as attack dogs. There’s no calling them off or
reasoning with them.”

Anne
shivered. Why did he always have to say the most terrifying things? She hated
him for that, but at the same time was glad that he kept her aware of how
dangerous this world was.

“Tell
me about this magic,” she picked up quickly before he’d changed his mind about
talking. “Where did it come from?”

“A
dark age. It doesn’t exist anymore in your world.”

“Only
in this one?” the woman inquired, watching his face.

“Only
because it
created
this one.”

She
fell silent a moment, considering. His answer was vague, but she’d take it as a
‘
yes
’. But if in fact the magic could only exist in this world she was a
visitor in, however did it affect her enough to bring her here? And what did
they want with her…or Olivia? Then again, if she didn’t have to know, maybe she
didn’t want to.

But
there were still so many questions remaining–like why was this nutcracker so
obviously different from the rest?

“How
do you know so much?” she ventured, nearly running to keep up with him now.

“I told
you that I heard it from one of the mice.”

“But
you knew of the curse before. How could you be aware of it if the others are
not?”

He
was silent a moment, moving on quickly. He had to stay with her now as he’d
vowed, but was he trying to pass the sound of her voice? Rush her along so fast
that she couldn’t think? It wouldn’t work.

“I’m
sure they aren’t all entirely unaware,” he said.

“Yes,
but–”

“You
ask too many questions,” he said finally.

There
was that finality in his voice. She’d heard it before. He’d beaten her.

No;
not this time.

“You
dodge too much,” she managed to accuse, taken aback. “What is there to hide?”

“Things
you simply don’t need to know.”

Pushing
herself, she moved ahead of him and swung into his path, putting a hand to his
chest in order to stop him. The nutcracker could have plowed her down, but he
halted instead, tolerating her. He said nothing about the interruption of his
tempo. She sighed, attempting to put herself at ease.

“I
don’t want to fight with you,” she said. “Apparently, we’ll be seeing very much
of each other now, and I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot–again.”

He
acknowledged her words quietly. She thought she could see it.

“Go
on and keep your secrets. But I do need to ask you one more thing,” Anne said,
peering up into his hollow eyes. “It’s important.”

He
gave her the silence which she could use to speak, but she chewed her lip
absently before asking. Actually, it had been on her mind for a while, and
through their entire conversation, she’d wanted to give it a voice. Before
their bickering went too far, she had to calm herself down with this. But did
she want to know the answer? And was she ready to have it on her conscience if
he gave her the wrong one?

“Is
Olivia insane or have the rest of us simply been blind?”

He
didn’t answer immediately, and in that, she felt the need to explain further.

“You
said…about the toys…”

“No,”
he interrupted. This time, his normally flat tone actually had a gentle sound.
He’d calmed down as well. “There is something not right with the girl. She
heard them speaking long before they ever spoke. I wasn’t around for that, but
I gather it.”

Anne
sighed in relief at that answer. She believed him and she didn’t even question
why–maybe it was just what she wanted to believe to begin with. Olivia was
insane, and Anne was not at fault.

Does
that make you feel better, Anne?
she imagined him saying.
You’ve
justified everything. When you’re done here, you can return straight back into
that life.

I
hate him.

“Anything
else?” His voice brought her back to the spot, and with the registration of his
words, she looked at him guiltily. Her lips pressed together and she didn’t
look at his face.

“There
is one more thing. Can I ask where we’re going?”

“I
wondered when you’d get to that.”

She
looked up to the words, but she could see by the tilt of his head that he
didn’t mean it harshly.

Maybe
he’s bearable…

“Apparently
there are many more sides to things than there seem to be,” he told her. “They
call Olivia the ruler of the toys, but she certainly does not rule them
all
.
I have heard of another, who, according to rumor, lives within a armoire
somewhere in this house. They call him the Shaman, and he has his own
followers.”

“Shaman…”
She’d heard that word somewhere before. In a story? A story of wizards and
curses?

“Can
this Shaman do magic?” she inquired, almost hopefully.

“No,
there is nothing magical about this one,” he admitted knowingly. “He simply
makes it his business to
know
everything. But we need to pay him a
visit. I think he can tell me what I want to know.”

“And
me?”

Surely
he’d not forgotten about her own predicament–but, for a moment, he looked as
though he had.

“My
answers might help you as well. But any additional information will have a
separate price.”
Price?
“That is where we’re going. And somewhere along
the way I suppose we’ll have to find you something else to wear. They know who
you are now.”

He
turned to go, passing around her where she stood, unmoving. Her fingers reached
her head. She was getting one of her headaches.

“Anne?”

Armand
had stopped and turned back to her over his shoulder. Anne hadn’t even realized
that she wasn’t moving behind him.

“Yes?”

“There’s
something following us,” he said, pausing just a moment to let it sink in. A
chill ran through her. “May we go before it catches up?”

She
stared at him a moment, but could do nothing but nod. Something following them?
He took her arm and turned her around easily, leading her off toward the way he
wanted to go. Anne tried to glance behind her, but she could see nothing but
darkness. She leaned into him as they moved, tripping over her feet and not
watching the path. He simply pulled her forward lightly and quickened their
pace.

“Faster,”
he said.

2

Clara
was a child; a child was what she was. She’d existed for years–
decades
–longer
than the doll who called himself Edge–who’d insisted to her heatedly that he
was, in fact,
not
a lady–but she had not even considered that he might
have been playing her for a fool. She was eternally naïve because she was
trapped in this role, and as they descended into the depth of the Ellington
house, she’d not thought twice about telling him everything she knew.

She
told him about herself and how she had come to be–how she had been deemed
worthy by the Master enough to have his blessing. She told what she was allowed
to tell about the past and present of her master, and how his greatest desire
was to rule over a kingdom of mice and toys. Finally, she spoke of the
nutcracker.

She
explained with great distaste how the nutcracker had been stalking the Master
for years, and even though the Master had created him, he was ungrateful. Her
lord would not be happy to know that the wretched demon was in this house,
working to ruin this endeavor after so much work.

After
she’d spoken all and Edge had listened intently, smiling greater with every
passing moment, he’d finally revealed his own ideas to her in their entirety.
The girl was in awe.

She’d
admit, she’d been quite shocked when Edge had spoken of his desire to strike
down the nutcracker and mount his own head on that powerful body, but his
full
plan promised that not only would the nutcracker be eliminated eventually,
the Lady Sovereign would be obtained, her kingdom would be fully conquered, and
Anne would be left just for Clara.

Edge
had insisted that it wasn’t a betrayal, though Clara wasn’t entirely sure about
that. But if she wanted Anne to be with her, she would need to comply. She was
a child. She needed companionship. She needed…

A
mother.
…Or something like that.

Her
new friend had given her one rule to start: that she was not to tell her master
about the nutcracker’s existence in the house. That order had made her
most
apprehensive,
but Edge had calmed her easily with the assurance that the demon would be
eliminated soon enough. There was no sense in worrying her master–and soon to
be his own–over it.

Now,
after they’d passed into the rodents’ domain–the stinking, filthy place where
she felt safest–Edge had hidden himself until after she’d made her appearance,
to absolve her of any involvement. It would be as if he’d simply followed her.
That was their game. And she was very good at playing games.

She
trotted in toward the large throne where her master sat, and without looking at
him, she stepped into a deep curtsy.