The Nutcracker Bleeds (41 page)

The
toy with black hair led her out of the empty rat pit and down through tunnels
with authority, knowing where it was taking her. In that, at least, Anne felt a
bit of relief. But perhaps the toy had only wanted to steal her away from the
Rat King to have her for himself. She supposed that it was a chance worth
taking. As of yet, this wasn’t a sure death.

Still,
there was something about this misfit.

Anne’s
eyes passed down to the razorblade the toy held in its hand. That, she
recognized. It was from her dream. In that ghastly vision, this doll had been
the one to emerge behind Clara, and as Anne had been distracted, it raised this
same blade, aiming to chop off Armand’s head. Seeing this doll here, and
knowing she had only ever seen it within her head, told her that her dream was
not just a dream. There was more to it than that. It was a product of the
curse.

She
was hardly watching where they were running, much too busy in her mind, until
abruptly, the doll stopped. With a firm jerk, it pulled her close to its face,
looking at her with intense red eyes that were level with her own.

“Don’t
think I’m helping you,” the doll said in a quiet voice. Anne couldn’t tell if
the voice was masculine or feminine. “I’m only helping
me
. Honestly, I
don’t care what happens to you as long as the rat doesn’t have you. If you want
to live, I suggest you take care. You’re on your own now.”

The
toy released her, stepping past her and moving back the way they had come. In
the distance through the tunnels, a great deal of shuffling could be heard.
There were voices and squeaks. Anne watched with wide eyes as shadows began to
emerge on the walls of the shafts far off, large and distorted.

Red
eyes turned back to her, hardly concerned that she was still standing there.

“You’d
better get gone,” the doll hissed, though wearing a leering grin.

Anne
didn’t need any more encouragement. She turned and ran up a wooden ramp,
running off into the unknown of the rodent’s lair.

13

“This
way! …No wait…”

The
jester puppet threw his hands to his partially broken face, clenching his eyes
as he tried to remember where he was going. The jester turned his purple and black
eyes to the right in the dirty, open space that led off into further dirty,
open spaces.

“That
way! I…arg!”

“Make
up your mind,” Armand barked, quite fed up. There was no time to waste on
idiocy.

“I can’t
make decisions under pressure!” the puppet whined pitifully.

The
nutcracker gripped the toy’s throat and pulled him off the ground. The jester
choked–as if he truly needed to breathe in the first place.

“You
will
learn
,” the nutcracker menaced.

The
marionette gulped audibly, staring into the nutcracker’s empty sockets–but
something else had already gripped Armand’s attention. There were noises
passing through the tunnels to him. A large commotion.

Anne.

He
released the jester without warning, and the puppet fell to the ground without
any sort of grace. The nutcracker started off in a run down one of the
passages, and simply for the sake of not being left behind, the jester pulled
his pathetic self off the grimy ground and followed.

The
sounds became louder in Armand’s ears until finally he emerged onto a bridge,
looking down on a lower level of the rodent’s lair. Down below, he saw the
black–haired misfit doll that had attacked him in Olivia’s room–alive and well,
just standing there. What was that ridiculous doll doing in the pit? Actually,
with the drains in the floor, the pit looked more like a…

There
was a rush of white movement to the side. Armand jerked his gaze there, and
there he found Anne. She was rushing off down a passage beyond the pit, wearing
a dress she’d not been in when he’d left her. She looked like a doll, but he
could tell she was flesh.

“Anne!”
Armand shouted.

Several
dozens of rodents and toys were flooding into the pit now from the other end.
The noise had grown much louder. The woman ran out of sight. She hadn’t heard
him. Armand rushed to the side and jumped down to the lower level, trying to
catch her. The jester wasn’t too far behind.

14

Edge
destroyed the wooden ramp Anne had taken up and then waited until he saw the
pinks and browns of the rodents’ eyes before he moved. He was taking a chance,
but he was certain that his lingering wasn’t suicide. He stood there as they
came on, heedless to any commands he might have made, but still there was a
smile on his face. He raised a delicate hand into the air.

“Welcome,
honored guests,” he said mockingly, and as agilely as a cat, he flipped up out
of the pit.

The
rats and mice that reached the pit wall first began scrambling up to reach the
toy their master had commanded them to destroy, but Edge was not yet done.
Nearby was a lever that had been installed by the mice themselves. Had they so
readily forgotten it? Or could they simply not think for themselves?

“Foolish
pawns,” Edge sneered. He threw down the lever. The result was instant.

Sewage
water poured out of a drain in the wall, flooding the pit, swallowing up those
who had been thoughtless enough to move straight into his trap. They struggled
against the current of the cesspool, and despite the smell, Edge could not
contain his laughter. It rang out over the hollow space and traveled down the
passages, proclaiming a small victory. Perhaps things were going according to
plan after all. He’d bought the woman some time to escape and hopefully she
would make the most of it. Greatest of all, he hoped the rat had seen this
brilliance.

Edge
had other matters to tend to now. He swung the blade onto his back casually,
heading off into the dark.

When
the first of the soaking rodents pulled themselves over the ledge to once again
seek their prey, the black–haired doll with the giant razor was nowhere to be
seen.

15

“
Anne
!”

The
woman heard the calls, but her brain did not register them well enough to know
that it was Armand’s voice. She kept moving blindly, tripping slightly over her
dress, but unstopping. Behind her, Armand wondered if perhaps she was running
away from him. But he didn’t care if she didn’t want him to catch her. He was
going to, and he wasn’t letting her go again.

He
gained ground, running as hard as he could until he finally touched her arm.
She screamed in protest as he pulled her back and swung her around. The woman
began to swing her frail, human arms at whatever had caught her, refusing to
take the time to look up and see what it was.

Armand
clenched her wrists, but she still struggled in his grasp, fighting back with
her last amount of strength. Stressful noises emitted from her mouth as she
fought until finally his voice somehow managed to reach her.

“
Anne,
”
it said calmly. “
Stop. It’s only me
.”

I
can’t stop,
she thought.
I can’t give in! I don’t want to die here!

“Anne!”

Her
body shook, startled by the sound of her name. It broke through her defenses.
She breathed a little deeper, her movements slowed, and finally she saw him.
His long, soft hair; his perfectly shaped lips…

“Armand…”
she breathed out.

She’d
calmed from her frantic state enough to recognize him. Further on, she seemed
relieved to see him. This was progress. He released her wrists and touched her
face, feeling the warm flesh and knowing she was alive because of it. She
gripped his arms in return, looking up into the hollow of his eyes.

“Armand,”
she said weakly, her voice full of sorrow. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

What?
His mind searched
for the meaning of that, grasping back to the last moment he’d seen her until
finally it came back to him.
“This is my real life! I don’t care about
anything else!”
He was nearly overwhelmed. How could she, in a moment like
this, bring that up over all else? She’d nearly been killed and he’d not
protected her!

“By
God, Anne; be quiet about that,” he said, swiftly putting an end to that
apology. Those were things for another time–if ever. They never had to be
discussed at all. He forgave her already.

He
held her tightly. She cried quietly against him.

Behind
the nutcracker, the jester puppet finally caught up–finding his Anne folded in
the arms of another man. How typical of her. It was the same thing she had done
with that human man when she’d been a few sizes larger. Now this.

He
took a step forward to speak an intervention, but noises behind him in the
passage made him stop abruptly.

The
jester turned his cowardly, pale head, looking back to see several large
shadows emerging down the passage.
Rodents!
The puppet threw himself
against the wall, sinking into the shadow and edging along to position himself
somewhere on the other side of the nutcracker.

About
the time the slippery puppet eased past without their notice, Armand heard the
distant sounds as well. He let go of Anne immediately, pulling weapons and moving
down the passage toward the oncoming threat.

“Armand,
let’s just go!” Anne called out after him, not wanting to linger here even for
a fight, but she must have known a fight was inevitable.

“Stay
back,” was all he said to her.

16

Anne
decided not to argue with this. Holding her gathered skirt, she kept her eyes
locked on Armand and moved back with slow steps. She stopped when she felt
Brooke’s hands on her shoulders. She felt instantly safer, even with the dark
shapes she saw advancing on Armand. Things would be alright now. She was back
with her protectors and…

“Wait…”
she uttered lowly.

Anne
remembered what had happened before she’d ever been taken to be decorated by
the frightening dolls. When the puppets had captured her, Brooke had returned to
her aid, only to meet his own destruction.

He’s
dead
,
she remembered. This brought on a new sorrow–and a new fear.

The
woman tilted her head slowly to the one who stood behind her, afraid of what she
might find. Her apprehension was well–founded. Her face twisted up to look into
the half–crushed visage of the jester puppet–that still, to this moment, made
her cringe at the slightest thought. Now, here he was once again near her,
touching her with his greedy hands.

The
marionette grinned down at her with his wide mouth and large teeth, but it was
not a gentle, warm smile. The grin spoke volumes about what he was thinking,
and the theme was a single, base thought:
I’ve got you now
.

At
the same moment that Armand sliced through the throat of the first
sewage–covered rat, Anne let out the most objectionable scream she’d ever
created.

17

Armand
heard the scream while he was swiftly slicing through rodent jaws, but he
couldn’t turn back to look at it immediately. Blood was spilling and teeth were
snapping at him. He worked to buy himself a moment.

Anne
managed to move out of the puppet’s grip, moving away from him any way she
could within the space as he advanced toward her.

“Leave
me
alone
!” she screamed at him, wishing that he could tell by her tone
that she was serious. Apparently, he did not.

“Anne…”

“No!”
She jerked her hand back when the jester tried to grab it. She looked at the
floor and not his face. There was a thump behind her as a large rat fell dead.

“But,
Anne…”

“Stop
saying my name! You don’t know me!”

Anne
felt her back bump against the wall, and the puppet halted, staring
incredulously back at her. How could she have said such things? Of course he
knew her. He knew her better than anyone. She would not even give him a chance
to explain himself to her? Wouldn’t let him close? Suddenly, all his feelings
of reformation vanished.

He
had not reformed; no, not at all. Look at her: so weak; so vulnerable. There
was nothing but deep lust within him, and he would do anything he had to in
order to satisfy that craving. So what if she protested? Did she deserve any
better?

“Wretched
whore,” the dark puppet snarled, smiling with his new resolve.

Anne
drew herself into a ball, covering her head with her arms and closing her eyes
against anything that might happen to her. The jester moved toward her with
evil intent, reaching out his hands–and then the white–haired soldier had
stepped between them.

The
puppet shrank back, kicking himself for not noticing the silence that had
fallen or that all the rodents were dead. The stench of their death and fur
filled the air.