The Nutcracker Bleeds (39 page)

“Time
to go,” she said, pulling the flesh woman out of the quiet room and out to meet
her destiny.

1

The
span of floor was long, laid with white tile. It seemed that the construction
of the room was not quite finished, for what should have been a grand ballroom
was unpainted, bearing cracked, dirty walls of plaster. Tile was missing in
spots, and the pieces that had been put down were crooked and broken.

There
were no tapestries decorating the room; no furniture. The space was lit by
several candles, evenly spaced, though none were the same height because of the
way they had melted. Anne stood at the entry wearing a full ball–gown. Her grey
eyes were tired, but had become quickly alert when they gazed across this area.

Was
this an old part of the house, or the work of rodents?

Surely
it was tiny mouse hands that had done this, having collected discarded
materials from when the lavatories were installed in the house. The tile
matched. This room was an attempt at creating a fantastic hall for their
master’s palace. This was, perhaps, as impressive as it was going to get, even
with more work.

It
was just like Anne’s dream, and she had realized that immediately.

She had
been dressed similarly–this flowing, pale dress she wore now was not completely
like the one from her dream, but the basis was the same. She was made up like a
doll, standing on a long, white floor. She had been fleeing from something…

A
sharp poke at her back made her move forward. The dolls that had been made her
escorts had been rough with her, jerking her around so harshly, and they urged
her on angrily toward her fate.

There
were rodents and toys standing along the sides of the floor, lining the walls
like an expectant wedding crowd. They were all disgusting things–she could
smell them!–but they appeared to be dressed in their finest. What was going on?
Oh yes, the ritual
. She was the guest of honor.

Anne
moved on slowly, looking around at everything in a daze. All the figures of
those dolls and toys were blurred together. Was she disoriented for some
reason? Drugged? Or did she simply not care enough to see them as individuals?

They
urged her on. Every step became a short fall from one foot to the next. Slowly,
her eyes began to focus down the center of the floor, and a large shape there
made her dig her heels into the tile. It was a dark mass of incredible size–a
gigantic lumbering creature! Immediately, she recognized what it was that stood
there, awaiting her at the far end.

Death.

What
was she doing? Was she to allow this? How could she have lapsed out of her need
to save herself? Her heels pressed into the floor with greater force. No, no,
this was wrong! She could not die this way!

Behind
her, the dolls gripped her arms and urged her forward. She fought against them.

Anne
was aware that she was struggling, but was hardly paying attention to the
flailing of her own arms and the twists her body made. She only cared about
getting away–was only concerned with how far she managed to get from the huge
creature at the end of that room.

This
ruin of a hall was the room from her dream–and yet it was not like her dream at
all.
Sad, hopeless little toad
. Armand was not there fighting for her.

2

Overwhelmed
with grief for her uncle, her kingdom, and her missing prince, the Lady
Sovereign had not spoken to anyone–not even herself–about the strange dream
that had plagued her each time she’d closed her eyes. It was a secret matter to
be kept within her mind, for it gave her terrible feelings to reopen those
images that only enhanced her sorrow.

In
the vision behind her eyelids, she heard a voice that she could not describe,
but the sound of it had very little meaning. It was the words that it spoke
that had value.

Once
upon a time, there was a pretty, pretty princess…

What
had been a very cloudy image finally cleared, as if the peacock feathers had
been lifted from her eyes. What she saw then made her heart sink, and even in
her sleep, made her twitch restlessly.

She
saw Armand sitting on the ground, but he was not alone. Anne was there with
him. She looked very different, with her hair curled and her dress grand…

But
the dress was not on her; it was gathered around her. Armand–
Olivia’s
Armand!–held
the woman close where she sat across his lap. Hands that should have been for
the Lady only were enjoying her nurse’s glittering body. Olivia wanted to look
away. She could not.

The
nutcracker’s handsome lips danced across the woman’s flesh, and Anne did not
fight against being held. In fact, she encouraged it. His tongue touched Anne’s
body gently in very private places. The woman moaned with pleasure. Olivia had
grown hot with anger and embarrassment.

The
Lady Sovereign opened her mouth, thrusting a finger toward the two who were
oblivious to anything but each other.

“Imprison
that woman!” Olivia commanded. “She’s to be beheaded!”

She
ordered this, but none of her guards rushed forward to do her bidding. Instead,
she was floating away from the scene. Eventually, the acts that she’d ordered
to be stopped were a rather long distance away.

In
her ears, Olivia heard a loud heartbeat, thumping steadily. She did not know
where it was coming from, but it seemed to overtake her entire dream. Then, it
began to dissipate. She was able to look left and right, and she saw a long,
metal blade on each side. She knew these were scissors, and she was caught in
their steely mouth

Olivia
heard the distant voice again. This second time, she knew that the voice was
Todd’s.

And
they all lived happily on without her.

There
was a metallic hiss, and the blades swung in toward her as the scissors closed…
She woke up.

The
dream deviated slightly each time, but it was always close to the same. Each
time she awoke very flustered, but she managed to shut it down for the sake of
her kingdom. Olivia knew it was a dream, but still she felt betrayed by her
prince.

There
was something else about the dream as well–some ominous foreboding–but she
continued to ignore its warnings. Her kingdom was in disarray. Her uncle was
dead. Still, all she could truly think about was her absent soldier prince–her
last hope of happiness.

3

Edge
was almost late, but he managed to slip inside without causing a disturbance.
Now, he watched patiently from a precisely selected place. He stood,
considering, wondering if he was truly prepared to do what he thought he might
have to. It was not revealing his intentions that he was concerned with; those
had already been revealed, he was sure. Instead, Edge was worried over his
plans. Things had gone well at first, but now, step by step, everything was
falling apart.

But
if that were true, what did he have to lose? Perhaps it was best to simply
improvise now.

The
pale doll stood back behind the others, peering out from within his hair. His
red eyes were on the Master, his left hand was on his blade, and his right hand
was on a lever in the wall. Silently, he waited.

4

Anne
didn’t know what her breathing sounded like as she stood there rooted to the
floor. She had no idea that her heart was pounding at five times its normal
rate, or that her blood was pumping so hard it was throbbing at her temples and
within her ears. She didn’t know that her palms were sweaty or that her face
was drained of all color, for she was only focused on one thing.

That
‘
thing
’ was standing directly before her.

The
woman didn’t know if he was more hideous than she’d imagined, or if he simply
met her every expectation. He was a creature from nightmares. He wasn’t bigger than
the largest toy she’d seen, but he was certainly larger than Armand and much
taller and wider than any of the rodents she’d seen.

This
King of Mice–the one they all called
Master–
was wearing a robe of silk,
colored purple, black, and gold. Still, that could not hide the fact that he
was a disgusting rat.

Black
fur covered his body, and while it had been combed back, it was slick with oil
and grime. His muzzle was long and wide,
unnaturally,
almost like the
rounded snout of an alligator. His nose was as black as his hair. His whiskers
and hairless tail were exceptionally long, as if those were more attractive
traits for a rodent. His hands were not small like rat paws, but they were
quite like human hands with long fingers, ending in sharp, pointed nails.

The
thing that Anne hated most–the thing that she couldn’t take her terrified eyes
off of–were his eyes. They were wide, evilly curved, and the irises were the
color of blood, branching off in red veins as if the center was an alien
portion that had taken root there.

The
rat stepped up to her, walking on two legs and seeming to grow taller with
every step. The dolls had left her to stand alone, but she hadn’t even noticed.
She didn’t feel his footsteps rattling the immediate area.

A
glimpse of teeth emerged from the muzzle as he smiled at her. His clawed hands
reached up and rested against the sides of her face, enveloping her head. They
were cold and clammy. If he’d wanted, he could have crushed her skull easily
between his palms.

“Guten
Tag, fräulein.”

Anne
only stared at him. She didn’t understand his words, but the flow of them
sounded so very familiar. The rat’s voice was a strong growl. The woman knew he
had once been a man–some terribly evil horror–but she could hardly fathom how
he might have been worse than this. She tensed in his hands.

5

The
Master was pleased to see this perfectly shaped piece of living meat. She was
as lovely in this tiny state as when he’d looked on at her from below. It was
nearly regrettable that he simply could not make her into a doll, but this one
would be so much more pleasant in the flesh.

His
hands slid down her neck, moving across her bare shoulders and down her arms.
So pleasant! So warm and soft! The rat sorcerer felt a stirring in his loins,
but he calmed himself. There was plenty of time to partake of her. Augustus
looked to her face, admiring how beautiful she was.

Above
all else, he loved the fear in her eyes.

“I’m
not so cruel,” he said. His words were clear English, hindered only slightly by
an old accent. It was proof that he’d spoken this language for quite a while
and had learned its tricks. Also though, it was exactly the way Armand had
spoken it.

“By
now, I am sure that you know why you have been brought here. I don’t expect it
has to happen so fast. Pleasantries first, perhaps?”

Anne
said nothing. There was nothing within her to say. The large rat grinned.

“First,”
he said. “A dance.”

6

The
stench was thick, and Armand recognized it immediately. He knew this jester
puppet had led him to the right place. The dark, stringent atmosphere could
only be a breeding ground for rodents.

He
moved into the area without hesitation. The jester, however, slunk back
. He
was no idiot. He knew where they were.

“I’m
not done with you.”

The
jester’s attention shifted at the sound of the unfriendly reminder made by the
white–haired nutcracker. The larger toy had stopped and turned back to the
puppet, his eyeless gaze cold. The jester gulped loudly and emptily. He didn’t
quite desire to go any further, but how was he to avoid this situation without
revealing the truth of where they were?

“What
more could you need?” the jester squawked in his unpleasant voice. “I’ve
brought you where you asked.”

Even
this small bit rubbed the nutcracker the wrong way. He paced back toward the
jester and gripped the toy’s collar with an iron fist. A blade shot forth from
an attachment on his arm, and he thrust it toward the puppet’s face.

“I
have a certain need here,” he explained, “and until that need is met, you will
be my dog. Are we clear on that?”

The
marionette in black cringed, but then swiftly put on his most sincere grin.

“Inescapably,”
he said.

Armand
released the puppet, and Brooke’s blade withdrew.

“I
need you to take me into the place where Augustus will be performing his ritual.”

The
jester’s eyes grew wide. Augustus? Ritual? He knew his way about in this lair,
but he knew nothing of those other things.

“I
don’t know anything about that,” the puppet said hesitantly.

The nutcracker’s
wooden foot smashed down atop the jester’s cloth one. The shrill–voiced
marionette yelled in pain.