The Nutcracker Bleeds (9 page)

“You’re
not made of wood!” he yelled back defensively, picking up speed.

She
roared in anger and did the same, cursing him silently.

6

They
carried on back the same way they had come, though this time much less
cautious. The farther they went, the less she could hear the insects swarming
behind her until the sound died completely. It was a good thing, because Anne’s
lungs and muscles couldn’t take anymore.

She
dropped to the ground, out of breath, her grip on the marble so tight that
she’d almost lost circulation within her arm. The jester fell to the floor as
well, clumsily. When Anne managed to gather more breath, she spoke to him.

“That
was dirty,” she gasped, glaring.

The
puppet took in a few deep breaths and then shrugged carelessly. His ghastly
grin renewed.

“Does
it matter now?” he inquired, standing once again. “We escaped–you without a
scratch and me without a hole–and you have your relic. All is well.”

He
moved to help her up, but she jerked her arm away, insisting on doing this on
her own. She had misplaced her trust in him. Anne moved on ahead, sure now that
she could find her way out of here on her own if she had to. Her body was tired
and aching, but her mind wouldn’t leave the last thing that the puppet had told
her.

All
is well.

Was
it? Perhaps, as far as could be expected, it was. She’d completed the task
without serious incident, and if nothing else, she would have Olivia’s acceptance
and no soldiers would be hunting her. The more she ran it through her mind
along the way, the more she calmed until her breathing was once again steady.

Back
in the shaft where they’d ridden the teacup lift, the jester prepared to take
them up once again. She watched him, wondering. Why had he helped her? Why, in
the first place, had he offered to be her chaperone?

Was
there some secret reason? He wouldn’t betray his Lady and country…? Perhaps to
have the cat’s eye for himself? Was there something special about it?

She
looked down, rubbing her hand over the smooth, green glass. It looked normal.
Just a marble.

“All
aboard!” her escort said, and she hastily stepped into the teacup before it
began to haul them back to the top of the shaft.

The
frightful toy beamed widely at her as the lift took them up, and while she
couldn’t find a smile to give back to him, she began to wonder if perhaps he
wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe he could even be a friend in this mess? Could he
be trusted even though his smile and eyes told her otherwise? Anne didn’t know.
She pulled the cat’s eye closer to her chest.

They
traveled most of the way back in silence, with Anne contemplating something in
her mind–something that she knew she should say but didn’t truly want to in the
least bit. She knew that if she didn’t say it, she would eventually forget, and
it wouldn’t trouble her again, but now it kept coming back to her.
Nagging
her.

Oh,
don’t be stubborn. Just say it. Turn to him and say it.

For
the sake of pretending to be a better person, she stopped her escort in the
long stretch of shaft that led to the grate they’d entered this place from.

“Jester,”
she said, standing with her head bowed toward the ground, a stray insect wing
dangling from her hair.

The
dark puppet turned back to her, and for the first time, she looked at his eyes.
They were purple at the iris; all the rest was deep black.

“Thank
you,” she managed. “I appreciate your help and couldn’t have done it so easily
if you hadn’t been there.”

The
jester looked back at her, clasping his hands and twisting them together
nervously. On his face was a curling smile and his eyes turned down at the
edges. If she hadn’t known better, Anne would guess that the puppet was on the
verge of tears.

“Are
you alright?” she asked, tilting her head in her uneasiness.

“You
just don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear those words, Anne.”

An
hour?

“What?”

Something
about this wasn’t right. Slowly, Anne began to back away.

“From
the moment I first laid eyes on you, I thought you were the most beautiful
thing that I’d ever seen,” the jester confessed. “More perfect than any doll!

Anne’s
brow furrowed in confusion. She shook her head. The jester stepped toward her.

“I
saw how you looked at me–curled up your lip in disgust,” he went on. “It hurt.
I watched you at night from that grate above your room and sometimes I let
myself down through it, watching you sleep.”

This
was shocking to her, but she wasn’t quite sure why she was surprised. The
puppet had been sitting on top of her when she’d awoken in her bed tonight. All
of these toys had been carrying on beneath her nose? She was dreaming. She
wasn’t dreaming. Anne could hardly feel herself at all.

“But
even though you loathed me, I knew that one day I would be able to prove you
wrong! I knew that one day you would love me!”

Love?
The mention of
that shocked her.

“Wait
a minute,” she said, finding her voice but still backing away defensively. “I
didn’t say–”

“I even
made something just because of you–
for
you!”

The
puppet wrestled with the black cloth of his body, finally managing to find an
opening within–and what he’d been looking for. From within those folds emerged
a post made of old, unpolished wood. The tip was cut into an arrowhead shape.
It was nearly an inch long–comparative to her former size: over a
foot
.

“What
in the world is
that
?” she cried, though she had immediately known what
it was supposed to be. Something the puppet had never had on his own. He’d made
one from a spare piece of wood and attached it to himself.

A
crude, wooden phallus.

Anne
clenched her eyes as if it would make all this go away. When she opened them,
all was still the same. All was
not
well.

“It’s
a tool, of course,” the jester explained innocently. “It’s what humans use on
each other. I’ve seen it happen. It’s like what the dark–haired boy used on our
Lady Sovereign.”

Anne
could hardly focus on what he was saying, but this clicked with her.

“W–hat…?”
Todd?

“Well…she
didn’t seem to like it much, but he said he loved her, and then he used the
tool. And I’ve seen it used in other places throughout the house as well!” His
eyes once again grew sinister. “In fact, I’ve seen that other man use it on
you
.
Filthy wretch, he is! And you! Guilty as sin! Making me jealous…”

“No,”
Anne protested, pointing toward the jester’s splintered, wooden attachment.
“That’s not…”

Her
words fell off. She choked on them. She couldn’t think of anything to say about
this. Dream? Nightmare?
Reality? Oh God
… Her breath caught in her
throat. She backed away continually.

“I
don’t fully understand it,” the puppet said. “I just know that I
want it
!”

His
voice became a low growl. He clenched his fists tightly and she could see the
frustration in his eyes–a long time of it built up inside. Toys with sexual
desires, with no way to release them… It was too much for her! What part of her
mind had produced these evil ideas? Was it Olivia’s influence on her that had
forced her to dream these things?

But
the trouble at hand quickly resurfaced past all her delving. It was not the
insane world of toys that she needed to be concerned with, it was
this
toy before her now. With or without her permission, the puppet was intent on
using that ghastly contraption on her.

“That
thing would kill me!” she screamed, though any hope of reasoning with this
toy–this
demon
–had vanished from her.

“I
could tell that it might hurt in the beginning, but it must be done. It’s all
there is left.”

His
insistence was spoken darkly, and she didn’t waste time. Anne turned on her
heels and ran. She knew she was going the wrong way–back toward the shafts she
had just come from–but she didn’t care as long as she could at least find a
place to hide.

She
didn’t get far.

She
felt it around her ankles first–laces that slipped around her flesh and
tightened. She was pulled to the ground. The cat’s eye rolled loose from her
grip and she saw what was happening now. The strings were
grabbing her.

The same
strings that she’d tied to herself in order to retrieve the relic were moving
on their own by the puppet’s command, twisting around her arms and legs. The
laces pulled at her. She fought. The strings slammed her against the wall of
the shaft and her breath left her.

Anne
struggled to draw in more air, but it was now thick with the dust that had been
knocked loose from the wall. As if the former hadn’t been a hard enough impact
to calm her down, the strings dropped her to the floor. Too easily, they spread
her weak body apart.

The
jester puppet–the owner and governor of those strings–stood over her, his grin
wider than it had ever been. His eyes flashed.

“You
can’t restrain love,” he told her, sucking air in through his teeth. She
realized then that he was salivating. The ‘
how
’ of it was not important.

The
puppet slumped down over her, leering. Anne didn’t beg to be released, didn’t
cry or scream. The jester was concentrating deeply on her, and while he took
her in, preparing for the thing he’d been anticipating for quite some time,
Anne was grasping for something that had rolled to her fingers. It was smooth,
round,
cold
.

She
groaned angrily, felt the wooden stake poke her in that most delicate place–

–and
then the cat’s eye was in her palm, sailing through the air until it crashed
into the evil puppet’s face.

The
jester and all his strings recoiled, stumbling back and yelling in pain. Anne
didn’t waste a moment. The marble in her arms, she ran past him and off into
the direction that would take her to the gate. She only hoped he would not be
able to catch up before she reached it. There was still a distance to go, and
she was already taxed.

7

Anne
fled, and the puppet ran shaking fingers over the side of his face.
Crushed
.
Even though his fingers were cloth and wood, he could feel the cracked
porcelain that ran in spiraling patterns. Pain might have been an illusion to
him–simply something that he thought he felt–but rage was not. That very real
emotion boiled inside him now.

All
he’d ever done was love her! He’d watched over her so carefully! His heart–if
he had one–had fluttered every time she had walked into the room! He’d cared
enough to lift her up when she’d fallen in the hallway, after she’d magically
and wonderfully shrank down to just his size. He’d put her into that box,
hidden her away to be safe, though with every intention of coming back for her
later for his own purposes.

The
jester had risked his frame to take her into the rodents’ realm to get the
relic the Lady had asked for. Not for the Lady, but for
Anne
! How could
she treat him like this? She had broken his heart and his face. He was ruined.

The
puppet groaned angrily, looking down the shaft in the direction the woman had
fled. She was no longer in sight, but he knew where she was headed. His smile,
though half broken, returned.

She
had nowhere else to go.

8

The
woman ran as fast as she could, pumping her body so hard that it ached from
movement. She’d almost dropped the cat’s eye once, but she pulled it in
tighter, refusing to lose it or stop for it. If it fell, her life took priority
over little Olivia’s acceptance.

Anne
moved down the path, fighting the air itself as it threatened to push her back.
She remembered the way. It wasn’t far…

The
grate emerged in her sight, and somehow she found the strength to press onward–
faster
.
Anne ran so hard for the gate that she could not stop before colliding with it.
It did not budge; locked tight, but that was not going to stop her. Urgently,
she beat her hand against it.

“Let
me out!” she screamed at whoever might hear her.

“Let
you…
in
?” came a voice, and she saw a red guard emerge into her view.

“Whichever!”

“What’s
the password?” he wanted to know.

Password!
What?

“This
is an
emergency
!” she cried, hitting the grate as hard as she could.
“Something is after me! I need to get in!”

“Not
without the–”

“
Sing
a song of six–pence
!” she screeched loudly into his face, her scratchy
voice echoing down through the shaft.