The Nutcracker Bleeds (35 page)

Somewhere
in his empty eyes, she saw him relent.

Armand
let her go, and for the sake of not losing to him, Anne hurried off without
hesitation. She did not look back.

4

Anne
rushed down the shaft corridor, passing vent after vent and not mapping her
turns as she followed the men in the hallway. It wasn’t very long before she
caught up with them, perhaps because of the curse, or perhaps just because
they’d stopped.

She
slammed into the bronze grate of a vent, and peering through the small holes,
she looked up into the dimness and listened.

“Once
more,” said one of the men, not whispering quite as lowly this time. “You are
promising me that all this will go over without a hitch?”

“Absolutely,
uncle.”

Uncle?

“Neither
of us will be suspect?”

“’Too
late to change our minds now’. Your words, I believe,” the other man’s voice
said. She could tell now that this one was quite a bit younger than the other.
“But this will all go over cleanly. I wouldn’t be involved in it if I wasn’t
sure of that.”

“And
Anne will be left out of this as well?”

These
words shook Anne’s blood, chilling her deeply. What was she not to be involved
in? Was it something about Olivia?

“Of
course she will be left out!” the younger voice insisted heatedly. “It will
seem natural.”

“Perhaps
you should just take Olivia and go tonight. I’m not quite sure it would be
right for her to be around for this.”

“I
can’t leave on Christmas. That would upset her as well as be suspicious. I have
to wait until this blows over. And you had better keep your end of this deal.
I’m doing everything else. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut and act
like a mournful widower.”

Widower…
Widower! At that, Anne realized what was happening before her. Even though she
could not see their faces, she knew by their words and she recognized their
voices now. She had suspected the first for William. The other was certainly
Todd.

Anne
looked back into her mind, thinking of Agatha Ellington, William’s wife;
Olivia’s mother. Anne remembered earlier that night in the kitchen–the woman
clenching her side because of some discomfort. In fact, Anne knew that had not
been the first time the woman had suffered such pains.

Anne
had never liked the woman, seeing her as some horribly unattractive creature
that somehow managed to have a good life and produce children without
inflicting her looks upon them. The nurse would admit that the woman might have
been the only thing keeping her from her dream of prosperity, but murder?
Wasn’t that what they were speaking of?

It
all made sense. If William was done with his wife, divorce was simply out of
the question. Agatha’s family land, money, and the children would leave her. If
she simply died, William would be left with everything, with no damage to his
reputation.

William
was conspiring to keep her sick–to kill her. Anne was not sure how she felt
about that. She was shocked–possibly as shocked as she’d been to wind up in the
toy world–but she hardly had time to contemplate it further. A whisper had
arisen behind her.

“
Well,
well, look what we found
.”

The
whispery voice broke off into two sets of laughter. Though the voices were
quiet, the degree of her surprise was intense. She jerked around from the vent,
forgetting about the words she’d just heard for the immediate threat behind her.

The
light of the hallway illuminated the lurkers just enough for her to know them.
If she hadn’t been so terrified by their sight, she might have thought that
they had seen better days.

Brooke’s
pair of brothers stood there before her, alive and well again just as Brooke
had told her. They were very different from before, having been mended and
adopted by the marionette troupe. She saw their strings and their bladed hands.

The
blond one’s face was cracked thoroughly, but had been newly glazed. The
red–haired soldier had half of his head improvised by a featureless ball of
wood. But that didn’t keep either of them from smiling at her.

“
The
Master will be pleased
,” whispered the puppet with the fair hair. “
Here
we were looking for brother, and instead we find this strumpet.
”

How
to get out of this, Anne?
she wondered.
These two certainly cannot be happy
with you. Armand isn’t happy with you. Brooke is gone…

Perhaps
if Brooke came back, these two would forget about her and she could escape. But
that was a bad thought. She couldn’t possibly have anything to do with trading
Brooke for herself. She did have a choice to make however. Was she too proud to
call for help?

No,
you fool! Not if it means your life!

Anne
screamed, for no one in particular, ringing her voice as loud as it would go.
Then there were strings wrapped about her already aching neck. The marble fell
from her grasp, rolling away on its own to fade.

5

Sitting
in the shaft, the gathered toys heard the scream ripping by them, and it sent a
chill through them, every one. They sat, afraid to make any sound. The melted
wax of the spent candle drowned out the flame, leaving them in darkness.

6

Traveling
up the passage alone, Brooke was halted suddenly by a horrible, shrill sound
that passed through the shaft like a fading spirit’s cry. The voice behind the
scream was not apparent, but he knew for certain that it was Anne.

He’d
been moving along swiftly through the passages to try and get to the Lady as
quickly as he could, but now that this new sound had arisen, he slid on his
heels and turned back, moving through the dark and toward the source of the
echo.

7

Anne
stared into the singular green orb that remained in Rivere’s face. There was no
doubt or lenience within it. Nothing but hatred for her.

“
I
think we should forget about the Master
,” said Rivere in a vicious whisper.
“
We should have her for ourselves
.”

He
pulled the woman off the floor with his strings, throwing her back against the
wall of the shaft. The newly resurrected puppet rushed toward her as if on
wheels. She felt the point of his blade–hand poking the flesh of her stomach.

“
I
think we should do to her what they did to Pirlipat! Let’s cut off her head.
Then rip out her insides and we’ll see how they taste!
” He sneered. “
When
we find Brooke, we’ll decorate him with her guts like garland!
”

Anne
closed her eyes, turning her face away, but to her fortune, Lakke stepped
forward and intervened. He blocked his brother’s blade from her skin where it
had made a tiny scratch, which bled off into her pale dress.

“
The
Master would not be pleased with us. We’re free to destroy Brooke if we want,
but if we find either human female we’re supposed to bring her to him. Those
are the rules. He was most generous to allow us to be repaired
.”

Rivere
considered this, but Anne did not open her eyes to test him. After a moment,
she heard him sigh.

“
Good
,”
said Lakke, “
now let’s be on our way. If she’s here, that nutcracker cannot
be far
.”

Rivere
nodded, and Anne felt his strings wrapping around her body tightly, squeezing
her. They wrapped around her mouth, blocking out any further sound she might
have made. He let her fall to the floor, hitting hard on her backside before he
began to drag her away.

The
quiet marionette brothers moved toward the first turn in the shaft, and inside
her cocoon of strings, Anne finally began to cry.

Armand
, she thought.
Please.
I didn’t mean what I said
.

Surely
he’d heard her scream, but she wasn’t sure she blamed him for not coming to her
rescue this time. Even heroes get bored and fed–up.

But…he
promised.

Lakke
and Rivere, happy with their find and thinking of all the unpleasant things
that were sure to happen to her, moved on toward the turn, but then they
stopped. There were footsteps moving down the tunnel at a swift pace, and
fearing that it was the nutcracker, they pulled up their blades.

The
dark–haired soldier in the black coat that rounded the corner had not been
expected, but he was more than welcome.

Brooke
stared at his brothers–at the abominations they had become. They stared at him
just the same, and smiles spread across their faces.

“
Brother
,”
Rivere hissed gleefully.

“
We’ve
been looking for you
,” Lakke told him.

Both
blades shot from Brooke’s sleeves, and he smiled in a way that would have
matched their own at one time. At this moment, he was very different from them
in many ways.

“It’s
good to see you, too,” he agreed.

8

Armand
moved along his path–away from Anne and every way that she had burdened him.
He’d heard her scream–heard the whispering laughter, he heard heard sounds of a
battle behind him now, but he was moving away from that, and soon it would all
be gone.

Anne
did not want to be helped, and he would not be bothered any longer. She did
nothing but disrupt his thoughts every moment and knock him off his course. He
was supposed to kill his enemy, not be the woman’s keeper. Even now she filled
his mind–her eyes and how they looked at him; her hair enveloping her; her
pretty lips, her kiss. The shape of her naked body that he’d admired a while as
she’d bathed.

It
was only lust. Not love. Wasn’t it? How could it have been love? He’d only
known her a short while. Further on, he didn’t believe in love anymore. He
wanted to kill his enemy and then be killed himself. That way, he could be with
Clara again–the one he’d truly loved.

That
was why he needed the rat to be strong again. If he moved into battle while the
Rat King was weak, Armand might actually survive. Perhaps his own curse and all
the rest would be lifted once Augustus was dead, but he didn’t want to take
chances. He wanted to be certain that his own death would not evade him.
Letting Anne be taken was a sure way to make that happen.

She
would be used for the ritual, and by which, the sorcerer would be restored. Her
death would mean Armand’s death. He would apologize to her in the afterlife.

But
does she deserve to die? To not have a life if she wants one?

The
thought was troubling. He shoved it away roughly. Letting her be taken would
suit his purposes. That was why he ignored her scream.

And
because she had lied about her feelings. She didn’t care about him at all.

9

Rivere
did not bother releasing Anne from his cords as he stood before his undamaged
brother. He simply moved her off to the side, holding her still so that she
could not escape. Lakke was at his side, and what were the chances that they
would lose? Rivere could feel the rage collecting in his blades.

There
were no words. Brooke attacked them, just as he had attacked them before.

Blades
clanged and slid against each other, hissing and sparking. Even though there
were two of the opposing, Brooke seemed to have the advantage. All their
weapons matched now, but he was the one with the experience. Rivere had
formerly used a chain. Lakke had used his fists and feet, which all had metal
plates attached. They didn’t have the proper skill with a blade, though Brooke
had to admit that they did pretty well for themselves.

They
thrust their weapons at him, and he blocked them, but for all his effort, he
couldn’t manage to strike them. Designs of light from the nearby vent were
enough to let them see one another, but the images were distorted by twists of
shadow. His brothers were fast, and Brooke failed to see the blade that swung
in from the side.

Brooke’s
left arm was gone, falling to the floor. There was pain, and a clattering sound
as the limb hit the floor. One blade left. One blade against four. He knew he
wouldn’t make it.

He
hadn’t destroyed them fully in the beginning, because he’d known they could be
made to walk again, and as much as he’d wanted to protect Anne, he’d also
wanted his brothers to come after him. Why? Simple really. He believed they
should be the ones to end him. He thought it was appropriate for them to end
his life, because even though he knew what he was and that his life was false,
they were his
brothers
. He felt for them, even though it was a
programmed feeling of his role.

But
on the other side of things, he’d not given up. If it was possible, Brooke
would have had very little problem with killing them again. With one arm gone,
however, he knew his body was not going to make it. Had he survived them, he
would have fallen some other way–protecting
her.