The Nutcracker Bleeds (52 page)

1

Anne
held Olivia’s hand as they moved hastily through the dark; Brooke held hers.
Olivia clung closely to her nanny, refusing to stray even a few centimeters
away. The woman did not know how long it would take Armand to reach the Rat
King named Augustus, but it would not do for the curse to be lifted while she
and Olivia were still in the shafts. There was clearly not enough room. Anne
knew that the best and closest place would be her own room, for there was
another thing she recalled about this transformation. She knew that they would
most certainly be without clothes when they were back to their rightful size. A
nightmarish image of someone finding them both naked on the floor of an
occupied guest room flashed through her mind. That simply would not do.

After
they got out of this, they were never going to speak of it again, and no one
was ever to know.

She
felt more confident now that the rat was truly going to release them. He had
allowed her to come this far without Armand, so she guessed he would keep his
word.

Armand…

She shook
her head slightly to settle her thoughts. There would be time for her to mourn
at some distant hour, but not one moment before she got herself and Olivia out
of this.

“Do
you know how we are to get back?” Olivia whispered quietly.

“We
just have to get to my room,” Anne promised her.

Yes,
just a little farther
.
Then it was back to reality to deal with a few things–things that seemed minor
compared to all this. Armand had left her with a few words of wisdom, and it
was by those words that Anne had made her decision. No matter how jealous she
was of Agatha Ellington, or how much she would have liked to take the woman’s
life from beneath her, she knew she should not be selfish. Somewhere inside,
she had always known that. She had to cast off her personal gain and do the
right thing. Somehow, she had to expose William and Todd for their wrongdoings.
She would find a way. She could not let the woman die.

But,
first things first.

She
moved onward with Olivia. Anne could see the open vent that would certainly lead
into her room. Almost there…

Just
as her heart began to feel relief that they were about to be free from this
terrible curse, the blade shot down out of Brooke’s sleeve against her arm.
Anne halted immediately, tugging Olivia to a stop as well. Her relief sunk down
toward fear. Brooke had been alerted by something. What was it? Olivia stood,
quiet and attentive.

The
same as when Olivia had come at her in the shaft, Brooke raised Anne’s arm with
the blade and pointed straight out in front of her. She could not see it–and
she was not certain how he knew–but there was something there.

The
woman backed away a few steps, and Brooke did not hold her there as he had done
the last time. Quite the opposite. He used the arm to jerk her around and force
her to face the direction she and Olivia had just come from. Anne took the
hint.

She
started off with Olivia slowly to mask the sound of their footsteps, but that
idea soon passed from good to bad.

“
Heeeere
pretty, pretty
.”

The
whispered call from down the shaft seemed to surround them on all sides. The
air felt like warm breath, giving birth to panic. The woman could not resist.
She turned to look behind her in the dark.

“
We’ve
been looking for you, sweet. Do come and play with us
.”

There
were footsteps emerging now from at least two different parties, coming on,
slow and deliberate. Anne thought she could see a pair of darker forms
lumbering toward her. The sound of clanging metal reached her ears, and she saw
a tiny spark which illuminated a face for only an instant.

That
face was only
half
as attractive as it had once been. She recognized it,
and her heart filled with dread.

“Run,”
Anne instructed to the girl with her, nearly choking on the word, but Olivia
stood motionless, frozen by the sight. Anne turned and gripped the girl’s arm,
breaking off into a run and pulling Olivia with her. “
Run
!”

It
took a moment, but eventually the girl’s legs began to work. They sprinted down
the tunnel with only one destination:
Away.

Behind
them, the footsteps came on faster as the open vent to safety slipped further
into the distance.

2

For
as long as he’d awaited this moment, and for as many times as he’d fantasized
about how it would be done, Armand could not say it was like he’d expected
because, throughout all his visions of killing his enemy, there had been no
details–save for the blood. Now, after the doll named Clara had led him down
into the lair he’d been unable to locate on his own, and after he had witnessed
several mice slinking away into the darkness as he passed, he found himself in
a long room beneath the house.

A
pale floor stretched out before him, and while many of the tiles were
imperfect, this room was certainly an improvement to the rest of the domain.
Candles stood against the walls and down the length of the hall. With the aid
of the reflective floor, they expelled every dark shadow. This was a ballroom
of sorts, or an unfinished throne room. Armand thought it would make a fine
arena.

Clara
led him out onto the floor a short distance before stopping. He halted behind
her. She did not ask him to remove his weapons; to do so would be pointless.
The sole reason of his visit was to use them. The girl had stopped, but she did
not address her master. This nutcracker needed no introduction.

There
was a wooden table down the length of the room with pools of blood atop it that
dripped steadily onto the floor. The floor was soaked in drying splatter that
slowly rolled through the cracks, reaching for Armand. Behind that table was a
large, dark mass, sitting with its face covered by two lengthy, clawed hands.
The rat seemed much larger than Armand had recalled, but that did not
intimidate him.

The
nutcracker and the child stood silently until the hideous rodent raised his
head, but of course he had known they were there all along. There was no doubt
that he had been watching through Clara’s eyes during their trek. Now, without
being told, the small doll turned and left the room, leaving them to their
business. Neither of them took their attention off the other long enough to
watch her go.

The
rat stood from his chair, looking down at his enemy. The nutcracker seemed
smaller than he remembered, but that was all the better. That would make him
far easier to handle. The rodent felt a tingling sensation throughout him, but
he withheld his anticipation.

“Armand,”
the King of Mice addressed with a lopsided grin. His razor teeth were covered
in blood, and there was dark fire in the rodent’s eyes.

The
nutcracker’s stare was firm, his empty eyes focused on the one who had done
this to him–the one who he had blamed, hated, and followed all this time. At
the sight of his enemy’s smile, he found his own that spread over his wooden
lips.

“Augustus,”
he replied with an eagerness that was not matched by his enemy. “I’ve been
waiting for this moment.”

3

Anne
didn’t know where she was going, only that she was desperate to get away. She
ran down the shaft as fast and as hard as she could, pulling Olivia along with
her. Behind them, the wooden footsteps continued to pound, bringing the two
determined puppets closer.

Brooke’s
brothers, Lakke and Rivere, certainly had only one aim in their heads: to kill
the two of them when they finally caught up. The Rat King himself had said that
he had no further use for them, so whether the brothers were under instruction
or acting on their own, Anne knew she had to get away from them. She was not
willing to die now–not directly before she was going to be saved. She was
willing to dart over into any room available, but as she moved past, she saw
that none of the vents were open. Would she and Olivia run into a corner at the
end, only to be chopped to pieces? No! It could not end this way!

Olivia
yelled out something at her side, but Anne only heard an inaudible sound. There
had to be something they could do!

“The
lift!” she heard Olivia say more clearly.

The
teacup lift!
It was a short turn down this corridor, and it would take them to the third
floor–to Olivia’s room. The place may have still been a war zone, but it seemed
to be their only option. Now, if they could only get to the lift in time.

4

Rivere
scraped his blades together, hoping to make them sharper while enjoying the
hissing sound they made. There would be blood on them soon, and he would know what
human death tasted of. It was a personal matter concerning that fleeing woman,
and only because her younger companion was with her, she would have to suffer
as well. Lakke was with him–the last living of his brothers. The
loyal
one. They did not need their brother Brooke in order to function. With every
step, they were gaining on their prey. Oh yes; they would have the nutcracker’s
princess soon.

Lakke
knew how his brother’s rage took him over completely and left no room for
rationale, so in Rivere’s stead, he did all the thinking. He knew they were
gaining ground on the woman, but he was also the only one to notice that they
were now chasing just one set of footsteps. Where had the other gone?

“
Rivere
…”

Rivere
did not hear, and it was only a short moment before trouble grazed him. From
out of the darkness, something attacked from his blind side, crashing down upon
Rivere’s arm, chopping through the wood. The weight of the blade attached to
his arm snapped the grain. He screeched, failing to recognize the irony in the
limb being removed.

The
second set of footsteps emerged once again, moving down the shaft. Lakke ran
off after them while Rivere lingered behind, clutching his wounded arm as he
ground his teeth in rage.

The
blond brother swung his blades about in the air, hoping to connect with the one
who was fleeing. The footsteps moved on before him. He stabbed forward. His
blade was deflected by metal, producing a clanging sound.

How?

Lakke
tried again toward the same spot and once again it was smacked down by another
blade, creating a spark. As far as the soldier remembered, the woman they were
chasing had not wielded any sort of weapon. They had not expected her to be
armed. Something was wrong. Something was so
familiar
. Lakke’s mind was
telling him to back off. Despite his better judgment, he did not.

There
was a whistling sound before him as a slender object cut through the air, and
Lakke did not have time to evade. He should have heeded himself. There was pain
in his arm and a loud crack as the limb broke and fell to the floor. Lakke
tripped over it as he ran, smashing into the wall. He did not bother pushing
himself away from it. Clutching the splintered place where his arm had been
removed, he sank to the floor.

Swift
footsteps came up behind him. One arm–a
right
arm–reached down to grip
Lakke’s arm that remained.

“
She’s
getting away
!” Rivere cried in his whisper of a voice. He tugged at Lakke
and urged his brother on. Lakke only shook his head.

“
She’s
gone
,” he relented. He then turned his attention to the direction Anne was
still running into. He saw her get into the lift. Both re out of reach now, and
both brothers were left armless. Rivere may have been too enraged to see the
irony, but Lakke realized it.

“
It’s
over, Brooke
,” Lakke said. Rivere lowered his head in understanding,
kicking the ground in his defeat. “
We’re even
.”

5

Anne
had sent Olivia ahead toward the lift in order to prepare it while she stayed
back with Brooke’s arm, hoping she could do something to stall his brothers or
thrown them off the path. She had been unsure, but it had worked.

Of
course, Brooke had done most of the work. She’d only run and let him handle
things as he saw fit.

Now,
she and Olivia were safe within the teacup lift, slowly moving upward to the
girl’s room where they would be safe.
Safe.

Olivia
rested her head on Anne’s shoulder, the Lady Sovereign no longer. She was
silent and motionless, save for her shaky breath, but it was going to be
alright. Anne knew that. Her survival was because of Armand. It was because of
Brooke…

She
felt a slight movement at her left hand–the hand that Brooke held in his own.
The fingers were shifting. They were releasing her. One by one, the fingers of
his hand slid away from hers until the arm fell and hit against the bottom of
the cup Anne sat in. She understood. He’d done what he had to do. He was tired
of holding on. She didn’t blame him. She was almost tired of holding on
herself.