The Nutcracker Bleeds (49 page)

She
knew where the Master had been planning to hold the ritual, and she made her
way there. It was a large room that the mice had been working on for the whole
of the time that they had been in this house. Still, it wasn’t quite finished,
but work on it had mostly ceased. Other than the white floor, she hardly looked
at the details of the room when she stepped inside, finding it mostly empty.

She
saw her master sitting at a table at the far end of the room. He was alone,
resting there with his head lowered and his hands clasped before his face. His
long fingers were coated in blood. The red substance had run off the tabletop
and pooled on the floor beneath.

Clara
approached with hesitant steps, feeling uneasy. Had the ritual gone on? Were
these Anne’s remains? Where was Edge?

Eventually,
the rat heard one of her tiny footsteps. He jerked to attention, and the child
stopped immediately, dipping into a curtsey and averting her eyes in respect.

“There
is no need for that, Schätzchen,” the Master said, though when she looked back
at him, she could see that he wasn’t in the grandest of moods. His mouth was
turned down at the corners, and his eyes showed his weakness. Still, he did not
seem upset with her intrusion.

“Come
closer,” he bade.

Clara
obeyed, going directly up to the table and stopping just before her shoes
touched the edge of the blood pool. The Master rubbed his eyes and took a deep
breath.

“You
know I love you very much,” he said to her, “and that is why I know you are the
only one who will not let me down.”

The
girl remained quiet, unsure of what he meant. Where was Edge?

“I
am tired, my precious. Tired of evading.”

Evading?

“I
have prepared myself. The ritual was not completed, but there is new strength
in me. I have the Lady in my custody. If he tries to save her, I want you to
head him off. If not, I want you to find him. Bring him here,” he said. “It’s
time to end this.”

Clara
knew whom he must have meant.
The nutcracker
. She remembered the first
time that she had seen him. It had been in a cold place–colder than her own
skin. She’d had a comprehension that was foreign to her now. She’d known about
a different world–a different language that she could no longer grasp fully,
save for sometimes when the Master spoke it.

She’d
looked upon the nutcracker for the first time and had seen him crushing her
helpless master in the snow. She’d thrown a rock at him. Then the nutcracker
had chased her. Clara had run, but she had not been afraid of him. She only
knew she hated him, and every time she had seen him since had been the same.
That nutcracker demon had never tried to do her any harm, after all, and many
times she thought she had seen him looking at her with sorrow, but that meant
little to her. Clara would be glad when he was dead.

She
didn’t want to go to him–didn’t want to see him at all–but because of the past
and the little that she knew of it, she knew she was the only one who could
deliver him. Clara nodded her head solemnly.

“Yes,
father,” she said obediently.

1

Todd
went along his way, out from beneath William’s watchful eye. He knew he had erased
some of his credibility with his uncle because of his outbursts, but were his
worries about Olivia’s nurse not well–founded? Anne was a sly one; he could
tell. She could have easily taken Olivia away and expected them not to find out
until the morning. Or perhaps she visited Olivia often at night for some
unknown reason. If she did, who would know it? Todd knew it was ridiculous, but
still was possible.

The
young man was angry, and nothing William had said or
could have
said
would smother it. His rational mind was grasping, and it was willing to believe
anything at all. Todd moved down the hall. He was supposed to be looking for
Anne or for Olivia, but he had a specific destination. Without knowing that he
was being followed–though not by William–Todd walked straight into Anne’s empty
room.

He
listened a moment to make sure William had not turned and decided to come after
him, but all was silent in the house. He stepped to the bed, looking down at it
briefly before he lowered his hand down onto it. The sheets were cold. The
woman had been absent from them for quite a while.

A
short sneer touched his lips at the thought that he could have been in this bed
anytime he’d wanted. He never had been, mainly just for cruelty, but he’d
actually considered it tonight–to spite her
and
his uncle–but that was
before he had found her missing. Now he only wanted to destroy her.

He
searched around for a good place, and finally he found a little box on a shelf
that held sewing supplies. Looking around him once again, to be certain he was
unobserved, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small
vial of clear liquid–his poison. He dropped it into the box and covered it with
a bit of loose cloth, then closed the lid.

Done
with his work, he put his hands into his pockets and left, not feeling the
least bit of remorse for framing Anne or for lying to William. How could he
have hoped to be? He was a murderer, after all.

2

Though
Todd had hoped to work in secret, Anne and Armand saw everything, hiding in a corner
of the room until the young man had left once again. Armand didn’t seem
bothered, but Anne was horrified. That evil creature! How dare he? That must
have been the poison they had been using to kill Agatha so slowly, and now he
had planted it inside Anne’s sewing box as if she had done the deed?

“Bastard,”
she uttered, unable to contain it.

Todd
left the room quietly as if he’d never been inside there. The darkness seemed
to gather closer. Anne clenched her fists until her knuckles were white and
devoid of color, so angry that she could scream. This could be countered now
that they’d seen him plant the evidence, but what if they’d not? She would have
returned to her own world just to be imprisoned.

Eventually,
her eyes lifted to Armand’s. He stood quietly in his own thoughts, which she
could not read. She couldn’t help wondering if he was once again thinking she
was pathetic, as he had thought before he’d come to care about her. He’d
finally seen into her true self? Seen what she had done to keep the pitiful
life she’d attained? He knew of her affair with William and that it might have
been Anne’s own fault that the man and his nephew were plotting to kill Agatha.
She couldn’t help feeling somewhat guilty over that, but now, more than
anything else, she felt uncertain. How did this make Armand feel?

“What
are you thinking?” she asked hesitantly. He could surely tell what she meant by
her words just by the sound of them. She wasn’t inquiring about the poison; she
was asking about how he was feeling about her after he’d heard all this.

Armand
stood there a moment before shaking his head. “It’s your decision.”

The
decision to let Agatha die or try to save her. The decision to let herself be
William’s wife or lose all connection with the family whatsoever.

“Do
you think I’m terrible for even having to consider it?”

Even
when she was asking it, Anne realized how ridiculous she must have sounded. Had
he recognized her concern; her desperation for acceptance even though she knew
he must not have cared one way or the other. How could he? He had his own
faults.

“I
can’t judge you,” the soldier insisted to her, and she could tell by the breath
in his voice that he didn’t wish to talk further on it. Anne directed her
attention to the floor.

Armand
moved forward a few steps, never once looking at her, more interested in the
vial that the young man had put into the sewing box high atop the dresser.

“We’ll
want to be removing that vial,” he said firmly, dismissing any thoughts Anne
might have been having. “Best to do it now so that you can put it back into
that man’s possessions unnoticed.”

He
started off across the room, and for a moment, Anne could only watch him. But
it wasn’t long before she snapped to herself. There were no protests in her
mouth. She wanted to be saved. What else could she do but follow him?

“Yes,
of course,” she said, and fell into step.

3

It
was just like Olivia’s dream. She could turn her head slightly to the right and
left, and if she was brave enough to do so, she would have seen a large scissor
blade on each side of her. She also remembered what else had happened in her
dream. Those scissors had snapped shut. That was when she had woken up. The
King of Mice had put her here, smiling as he told her that this device was
attached to a timing mechanism, and that Armand had only so much time to
deliver her before she would be quite dead indeed.

Olivia
glanced to both sides once more. It was dark here, but a tiny bit of light allowed
her to see the gleam of the metal. A whimper involuntarily escaped her lips.

Was
she frightened now? Did she regret her rash decision to turn herself over to
the rodents? Was she finally beginning to realize that this war was not all
just a game like the ones she’d played with her dolls
before
she’d come
to live among them? The answer to those first two things was yes, but the
answer to the last was the opposite–though that ‘no’ was well on its way to
becoming a ‘yes’. There was a feeling of dread in her gut, and in her mind,
gears were turning.

Could
it have been possible that little girls were not meant to be lowered to their
toys? She’d played with her sister Elizabeth on several occasions, and while
the younger girl agreed with many of Olivia’s views about the dolls, Olivia
couldn’t help but to feel a bit different from her. The child had never spoken
of her own toys as Olivia had heard them, and many times Elizabeth had called
them by the wrong names. But what was the reason for all of that? Elizabeth did
not pay enough attention? Olivia had never considered that she might be the
same one.

Olivia
closed her eyes, assuring herself that everything would turn out as she’s
initially expected, but inside, she wondered if she could afford to be so calm.
She had no idea how much time she had left before the trap would spring.

4

There
were extra sewing supplies beneath Anne’s bed, so with the use of some thread
and a few safety pins, Armand was able to scale to the top of the dresser, retrieve
the vial and lower it back down to her. They bundled the evidence in a piece of
cloth like a baby so that Anne would not come in contact with any of the
poison. It was unknown how potent the mixture was, so they took precautions.

Armand
was silent through all of this, and Anne tried to concentrate, but couldn’t
quite manage. She wanted a word from him–
something
that would console
her thoughts, even though she knew they might not be together for much longer.
She needed to know that he wasn’t judging her, and at the same time she felt
guilty enough to explain, but she could only observe him silently.

The
nutcracker leaned down with his powerful arms to take up the vial, but before
he had touched it, Anne became overwhelmed by her own emotion, gripping his
arms.

“I
don’t love him.”

Armand
looked at her as if he might not have known what she was talking about, but how
could he not have? Anne knew he understood.

“William,
I mean,” she said, shaking her head to organize her thoughts. “We’d been having
an affair, but I never guessed that he’d want to kill his wife.”

Armand
looked down at her with a strange curve at his dark eyes.

“It’s…”
he started, trying to think of a kinder way to say it, but the same word kept
coming back to him. Finally, he gave up with a small shrug. “
Irrelevant
,”
he finished. “The decision you make will not be based on whether or not you
love him. You know that.”

“Yes…
I suppose you’re right.”

“I
have my own faults to account for. You know that as well. I cannot judge.”

She
looked down with uncertainty, but he touched the side of her face gently. His
wooden hand was cold. She smiled sadly, wondering if it would mean much to him
if she said that, given a choice in the matter, she’d have picked him first.
Today, that would be pointless. She knew he must have already known and
believed that.

Anne
gave a short nod to let him know she would be fine with this now. Words could
not make their way up for fear that she might begin to cry. Armand lifted up
the vial wrapped in cloth and waited for her to come to attention before
turning toward the shafts. Before them now was the job of getting the poison
back into Todd’s luggage. He supposed it would be simple enough, considering
that they could find the room he was staying in.

5

After
they secured that part, Armand guessed he would have to part from this woman.

It
was sad, but he’d known all night that the time had been coming when he would
have to say goodbye to Anne forever. Earlier now than he thought, perhaps, but
he imagined they could comb through the house for the rest of the night and
never come across anything definite as to whether or not the curse could even
be broken. He hesitated on the thought that if she was to stay in this state,
perhaps he should stay with her instead of going off and getting himself
killed, but he’d already thought about those things before. It was impossible
for several reasons. He felt in his heart that she understood why.

The
woman had her own decisions to make now, and so the nutcracker remained silent
as they traveled through the darkness. They leaned only on the sanity they had
managed to preserve.