The Nutcracker Bleeds (34 page)

“Master?”
A doll near him heard his storytelling, lifting her head from his claws to peer
up at him.

“Nothing,
fräulein,” he insisted, but it was not nothing. The doll named Edge was a
simple foe–so easy to dispose of. There was only one worth fighting, and if the
nutcracker made it down to him, passing the obstacles that were laid in his
path, he certainly deserved to have the battle he had been craving all these
centuries. Sadly, he would not win.

“Soon,”
Augustus said. “Soon, Armand.”

1

Around
a curve in the tunnel, a warm light was reaching out, promising safety. The
three travelers approached the glow, but it was not safety they expected to
find there. Instead, they were only made cautious.

Anne
extinguished the green glow of the marble. Brooke and Armand drew their
weapons. All personal thoughts were abolished with concerns for immediate
safety as they crossed into the Lady’s territory. They were nearly back to
Olivia’s room, and now they were going to meet with trouble. Perhaps it was
only a patrolling soldier. But no; the light was too much for that.

They
moved on through the dark that was slowly giving way to light. Plenteous dust
danced about through the air ahead, and finally they came upon the spot.

There
in the passage was a burning candle, nearly finished, sitting in a heap of wax.
Around it sat several toys of different sorts, warming themselves before it
like the homeless in the alleys of London. As if they
needed
the heat
for any reason other than the fact that it was pleasant to them. They would
certainly not die of hypothermia. To be warm and dry would not aid their health
one way or another.

When
the three companions came into the area, the toys lifted their assortment of
different eyes to peer at them curiously, but none moved to protest. Armand put
his sword away. Brooke, behind Anne and Armand, withdrew only one weapon.

“Who
are you?” asked a long–eared rabbit doll in a dirty, flowered dress.

“Doesn’t
matter,” said a distracted–looking rag doll with matted hair of yarn. “They’ll
have to go elsewhere. There’s no room.”

Anne
looked over the faces of the gathered toys, but said nothing, nor did she grow
too bold. She stayed back behind Armand, as had become her habit, but the
button eyes of the rabbit found her, locking on firmly.

“Wait
a second,” she said. “
You
.”

The
woman slunk back a bit more behind the nutcracker, but when she did, she saw
that the stuffed creature was not looking at her, but
behind
her.

“You’re
one of Pirlipat’s guardians, aren’t you?” the rabbit directed Brooke’s way.
“Fine job you did.”

“Too
late for that now,” scolded a glazed, wooden cardinal. Then the shiny critter looked
up. It was missing an eye. “Hope you all aren’t on your way to the Lady
Sovereign’s kingdom.”

“Like
we were,” chimed in the rag doll.

There
was a bit of murmuring amongst the toys then, and Anne greatly wanted to
inquire further, though knowing it was completely against the rules to bring
attention to herself. Luckily, Armand was also curious.

“What’s
happened?” he asked, the accent of his voice very different from theirs.

“Rodents,
that’s what,” said a worn, train engineer.

“Bet
your life,” some hidden toy piped up.

Rodents?
Anne thought.
Oh
no! Olivia! Nothing can happen to her!
She looked at Armand anxiously, but
he was expressionless.

“We
were headed there from the Princess Pirlipat’s kingdom, and we’re lucky we
didn’t go in,” the rabbit informed them. “Would have been caught up in all that
chaos.”

“Not
many got out, I hear,” said a stitched, white bear. “But a few. They said that
the Sovereign was barricaded inside the palace surrounded by guards, and the
rest of the toys were having to fend for themselves.”

“
I
heard that the mice were still in there but that the attacks had stopped,”
said the rag doll. “Though that does lead one to wonder what they’re up to…”

Armand
had heard enough, it seemed, but he didn’t step through the midst of the toys
as Anne had expected. He turned back instead, ushering her forward from whence
they came. This was terribly confusing to her. Armand knew how important Olivia
was to her life! He’d even admitted that the girl reminded him of his daughter,
and that her well–being was important to him. So, why were they not hastening
to her rescue?

“We’re
going back there, aren’t we?” Anne asked after they moved a short distance
away.

He
did not turn back to her. “No, it’s too dangerous now.”

In
her surprise, she grabbed his arm, scratching her fingers on the metal. Her
nerves hardly relayed the message to her brain.

“No?”
she demanded. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

He
faced her, not bothering to mask his agitation.

“You’ve
so suddenly decided that Olivia’s life is more important than yours? I thought
my decision might have made you happy.”

“Do
not
start this now!” she demanded lowly.

Anne
put her hands to her face and wiped her anxiety away–as if that was all it
took. Brooke watched. He saw Anne try to think of an alternative to this,
knowing that she wasn’t going to win. He saw Armand standing by his decision
firmly. They weren’t going to resolve this on their own? Brooke knew a way.

“I
will go.”

The
sound of his voice made both of them look toward him. What was that on their
faces? Surprise? Concern? Admiration?

After
his declaration had sunk in, Anne shook her head.

“No.”

“It
would be best,” he tried to convince her. “There is something terrible coming
for me, and I’d say you have a better chance of surviving if I’m gone. Besides,
perhaps the soldiers will do some good if
they
do find me, and I’m
skilled enough to protect the Lady against rodents, I assure you.”

That
was not good enough for Anne. He truly didn’t understand at all. She didn’t
expect that he would.

“What
if I never see you again?”

This
question caught Brooke off guard. In fact, it puzzled Armand as well. The
nutcracker crossed his arms and looked on, eager to see how the soldier would
respond to this fine display of humanity she was throwing forth. Could he
counter it?

“The
time will eventually come when you won’t see me again–not standing here like
this,” Brooke said. “Either I will meet my end on my own, or if the magic no
longer holds, I will be equally lifeless. Perhaps, better sooner than later?”

Anne
lowered her head a bit, understanding that he was right. Armand was actually
impressed with his handling of her. It was gentle, yet honest. He knew very
little of that himself. When he tried to be kind, she didn’t allow it long. She
tried his patience too much.

“Then
go,” she bade. “Keep Olivia safe.”

2

Hearing
Anne’s words, Brooke nodded his acceptance and turned, but he hadn’t taken a
single step before she stopped him, touching his arm.

“I want
you to know that, whatever happens, you’re not nothing,” she said, speaking
hurriedly. “You made yourself
something
, even though you tried to resist
it. If you were nothing, I would forget you. And I won’t. Ever.”

Whether
or not it was wrong for either of them, Anne wrapped her arms around Brooke. It
was a sincere goodbye, because somehow–either by his fall or her own–she knew
she would not see him again.

Brooke
was uncertain about her gesture, but he knew what it meant. He’d been hugged
before, but he’d never counted it to mean anything, just as the princess that
had hugged him never contemplated the depth of the action. This was different.
In that moment, Brooke understood that even though he was
just a toy
,
Anne believed his life had value. Even with her recent words, he hadn’t grasped
it until now.

Brooke
felt something in his head–behind his eyes. It was a heavy feeling. It burned.
If he’d been like her, he would have known that he was crying, but there were
no tears, and so he was completely unaware.

There
was very little he could do to avoid his eventual fate, and so he only hugged
her in return. Her emotion was even more perfect than her skin.

“Do
be careful,” he said, withdrawing finally.

Brooke
raised his eyes to see the empty gaze of the nutcracker. What was behind those
eyes? Surely nothing. There was no emotion for Brooke’s departing. Armand had
conformed to this world. He had let go of everything that he had felt once.

Looking
at him, the soldier felt the need to speak, even though he was certain his
words wouldn’t mean much.

“I
want a hand in this,” Brooke said. “I’ll do my part.”

Armand
didn’t respond, but that was fine. He didn’t have to. Brooke turned from them
and walked toward the Lady Sovereign’s kingdom. Armand and Anne turned the opposite
way, heading off into the unknown.

3

The
woman and the nutcracker moved on without much to say to one another. Was it
possible that they had said all there was to say? Armand had certainly made his
point perfectly clear to her–that he did not have time to hear about her
feelings or to embrace his own, if there were any. Anne’s eyes locked onto his
back as he led her forward, watching his shoulders move, his hair…

I’m
a fool
,
she thought.
Why did I even tell him how I felt? And how can I possibly know?
When I get large again, I’ll crush him with my shoe. Yes, that’s appropriate.

But–oh
God–what if that happened? What if she was up there, and he was within her
hand, looking back at her but never saying a word? And how much would it make
her feel like laughing? Crying?

You’re
just crazy is all, Anne old girl. Just a simple old loony. Couldn’t find a real
man to love you, so you had to fall in love with a doll who doesn’t love you
either. If you do escape the asylum, you’re destined to have a thousand cats–a
thousand cats to love you and keep the mice away.

Anne
did not want to have these thoughts. As wild as they were, they were still too
realistic.

Is
it possible that I confused hate with love? Care for disgust? Pity is the same
thing as distaste?

Then:

I
need him to help me. I need him to get me out of here.

But
what you really need is for him to love you
, her self chimed in.

“Just
be quiet!”

Her
words had been low, but Armand had heard them. He turned to look at her as she was
trailing several steps behind. Her hands were in her damp hair, and when she
saw him looking back at her, she froze.

You
just told yourself to be quiet,
she realized.
Now not only do you know
you’re insane, he knows, too.

When
she looked closer, she saw that he wasn’t looking at her like she’d suspected.
What should have been the very deadpan way that a human looked on at an ant,
was instead a slight crease in his brow. Was that
concern
?

“Are
you…?”

“I’m
fine!” she snapped.

He
wouldn’t win now. Not this time. She didn’t need to cry on his shoulder or be
enveloped in his arms. Not any man’s ever again!

Anne’s
face softened suddenly as she looked at him watching her. She wanted to go to
him.
I won’t
. She wanted to think that he would embrace her.
He won’t
.
Anne opened her mouth–opened it to say something important–but she’d forgotten
what it was before it even passed her lips. She’d heard something. There were
voices coming from the hallway.

Those
men!

“
You
know, you never did tell me how you were going to cover this up
,” she heard
a distant voice whisper.

“
You
trust me, don’t you
?”

Large
shadows of human legs passed quietly by the vent, and without thinking twice,
Anne turned to chase them. She’d only taken a few steps before there was a firm
grip on her arm. The whispering voices became only murmurs as Armand turned her
toward him.

“I
have to follow them!” Anne protested frantically, struggling in his grip.

“No,”
he said resolutely.

“You
have to let me!”

“I
said I would keep you safe, but if I am to do that, you can’t be running off
like–”

“This
is my
real life
!” she screamed, shattering his words and thoughts. “I
don’t care about anything else!”

Silence
found its place between them. His face had changed, and she spoke to him like
she’d never dared to. Something in her face tried to tell him that she didn’t
mean it, but he wasn’t seeing that subtle hint.

She
realized she’d actually hurt his feelings. Even though he hadn’t retuned her
affection, she had stabbed him in his beating heart by telling him she didn’t
care. No; that was impossible. She could not possibly have hurt him, because he
did not feel anything. Besides, he had hurt her as well. This was revenge.
Surely he could understand
that
.