The Nutcracker Bleeds (53 page)

“Thank
you for everything,” she said, feeling tears as she smiled. Anne touched
Brooke’s fingers one last time. “I’m sure Armand would say the same.”

The
hand moved slightly as if in acknowledgement of her words. Then the fingers
relaxed, returning to the shape they had been carved to hold. They did not move
again.

6

Edge
had taken his time leaving the rodents’ lair after he had stopped the ritual,
averting all those toys and rats in a cesspool–brilliant! He smiled for his
cleverness, treading onward. He may have been out of the rat’s favor–though
he’d admit that it took the rodent longer than he’d expected to address the
issue of his betrayal, but all would still go as planned. The ritual had been
ruined, and Edge had redirected his concerns. He would locate the nutcracker
now.

Soon,
his head would be mounted atop a larger, stronger,
wooden
body, and no
one would question his gender
or
his power. But perhaps he would miss
his old body? He quite enjoyed the smooth porcelain of his white stomach…but
that was nonsense. After he’d acquired his new body, he knew he would never
crave this one again.

He
strolled along now, musing to himself and wondering what he would do first once
he was ruler over all the toys and rodents, when a noise behind him caught his
attention. His slender fingers reached for the razor at his back as he turned
toward whatever foolish thing had come upon him.

In
the faint light–designs of a vent, he could see a small figure.

“Edge!”

He
recognized the cheery voice immediately.
Clara
… She had surprised him.

“What
on earth are you doing out here, poppet? It’s not safe for you to be wandering
about.”

Edge
found an amused smile and crossed his arms before his featureless chest. From
the light of the vent, he saw the doll’s inescapable delight.

“You’re
alright!” she proclaimed, her sweet voice echoing.

“Of
course,” he assured her with a chuckle. “Why would I not be?”

Clara
pushed off the heels and dashed forward, flinging her arms around him. Her
solid face made a little smack against his own glass flesh.

“Now,
now, let’s not get so emotional,” Edge insisted in his strange voice, pushing
her away slightly and kneeling down to look her in the face. “Daddy has work to
do. He has to find that evil nutcracker, so why don’t you run along and play
somewhere safe until he’s done.”

If
she could only stand to wait just a bit longer, he would certainly allow her a
place beside him on his throne. Admittedly, the child had too much delicious
potential to simply toss her away. The girl said nothing, and when he was
certain that she had complied with his request, he rose up and began to walk
away from her.

“It
won’t do you any good.”

The
sudden words stopped him. The sound of the girl’s voice had changed
considerably, fading from its joyful sweetness and passing off to a flatter,
much more skeptical tone. A copy of his own? Edge looked at her over his
shoulder.

“Come
again?”

“He’s
with the Master now.”

Edge
was floored by this news. What was this new development?

“He…
who
?”
Edge asked, a threatening tone in his voice.
Surely
she was not speaking
of the nutcracker.

“You
know who,” she told him. “I just took him there myself.”

Edge
whirled on her, his eyes wide with fury. She knew the rules! Why would she do
such a thing to him? How could she?

“Don’t
be upset,” she said in a disapproving way. “The Master told me to.”

“You
could have
stalled
,” the dark–haired doll growled through clenched
teeth.

“I
did not want to stall,” she said simply.

Clara
crossed her arms, looking at him with her nose tilted in the air. She was
making the decisions now? Who had given her permission? Just
who
? But
there was no time to contemplate this. Edge could not allow the nutcracker and
the rat to fight! It was not time! Either he would have to stop it, or he would
have to be directly in the middle of it.

He
trudged heatedly past the child doll, moving hastily off in the direction of
the Rat King’s domain. If he did not hurry–

“You
are going to meet your death if you go,” Clara warned.

Edge
did not listen to her. He felt the weight of the razor on his back. He feared
nothing.

“You
can’t go down there!” she insisted, beginning to follow him.

“I
have to go down there,” Edge started calmly, but as he went on, his voice
elevated to a yell, “because I’m the only one who can do anything.”

Clara
stopped at the notion, stomping her foot into the ground so hard that it might
have shattered.

“Think
about it,” she screamed back at him.

The
forcefulness of her high–pitched voice caused him to stop. He paused in his
flaring anger, but he did not turn to face her.

“The
two of them are going to fight,” the child said, “and granted, the nutcracker
is a worthy opponent, but I think we both know who the victor will be. Do you
actually believe that you will win if you engage the Master in battle? If you
would use that clever mind of yours, you would surely understand that what
you’re playing at is impossible!”

What
was this? Was she his mother now? And how did he even know what a mother was?
Surely he had never had one. How did he know
anything
that he knew? Some
of it was learned as he went along, but what about the things he could do from
the very first day that his eyes opened and he understood that he was alive?
Who had taught him to walk or to speak? How did he know what he knew?

And
why had he never thought of this before?

Could
what she was saying be true? Had he been so clever and masterful in his
plotting simply to have overlooked the tiniest of details? That he could not
hope, on any level, to defeat the one who had given him life? Was he not
brought to life by the hands of his father, the toymaker named Euan? Was Edge
not his own being with his own rules and his own ideas? Or was Clara right?
That a dirty, filthy rat was in control and he could destroy Edge just as
easily as he had brought the doll to life?

No…

“No…”

“I
didn’t know you were planning to kill the Master. I only thought you were
trying to destroy the nutcracker.” Clara’s lower lip jutted out in a pout. “I
never would have worked with you. Even if it
was
for Anne!”

“But,
the woman,” Edge protested with little effort, feeling his mind begin to
fracture. “She was what you wanted. Why is that not worth everything to you?”

His
voice had become that of a tortured youth, but straight after he’d let the
words out, he could hardly believe he had done so. He did not care about her
reasons. She was only a child!

“I
changed my mind, actually,” the girl answered anyway, “but I would know better
than to oppose him so openly.”

Edge
clenched his fists tightly. Even when he heard them begin to crack, he did not
relent. How dare she speak that way to him? And how dare she be right!

“Bah!”
he released, stepping on toward his destination.

“You
are on bad terms with him right now. You would do best to wait. Let me try to get
you back in favor with him after it is over,” she called.

One
more word…
he thought. One more word from her and he was going to use this instrument on
his back which made him fearless.

Clara
did not back down. She followed on behind him.

“I
want you to take care of me!” Her voice did not hold a calm tone of pleading
anymore, but a desperate, nearly inaudible screech common to children in their
tantrums.

Edge
had heard enough. It was time for this little one to have her punishment.

“Foolish
little harpy,” he said, stopping in his tracks once again. “I thought you were
different.”

His
hand was reaching to his blade without having to be told, wrapping around the
handle and withdrawing it from his back. He turned back toward her. At his
blood–red stare, fear emerged in her blue eyes.

“But
you’re just like the rest!”

His
proclamation echoed down the shaft, a perfect achievement of a fury–coated male
tone. Edge moved forward in a flash of dark color on light skin. Clara gasped
as the blade swung up into the air over her head. Edge grinned wildly as he
anticipated the instant that her head and small body would shatter.

The
attractive doll slashed downward, grinning madly. He felt resistance against
his arms as his blade connected–but it did not connect with Clara. Confusion
set in on Edge’s face. Beneath him, Clara looked up at him and shook her head.

The
razor that had been going for its mark–the very center of Clara’s head–had
stopped dead in the air before even colliding with the girl. There was nothing
restricting it, and yet it would not move. He pushed on the top of the blade
with all his strength to force it down on her. He pulled on it to pry it away
in order to attempt the strike again. Neither worked. His weapon was stuck fast
in
nothing
.

“You
disappoint me, Edge,” the girl said, sniffling a bit while he was still
considering what had happened. “There is a secret shield around me that
protects me from danger. Did you actually think that he would leave me to run
about without any sort of protection? I’m just a little girl, after all.”

A
little smile found her lips, and realization dawned inside Edge. He had
miscalculated–everything. In that moment, he knew what it was like to feel
fear. He was not in control. He was not in control at all. Edge’s cracked hands
released the weapon that he had earned his name by wielding, not concerned if
he would ever hold it again. All this he’d been through–all this!–and when he
thought he was playing them, they were actually playing
him
? No. No!

The
long–haired doll turned and ran. He imagined the rat looking at him through
Clara’s smiling eyes, then Edge imagined that oversized rodent lurking about
inside his own head.

“Bastard!”
he yelled, putting his hands to his head as he ran. “Get out! Get out!”

Though
Edge had known of the rat’s presence in his mind all the while, it struck him
now in this moment of weakness. He could not take this looming. This was
invasive–atrocious.

This
was not at all fair.

7

Clara
tilted her head curiously around the suspended blade in order to watch Edge as
he darted away from her. What was wrong with him? He never acted this way. All
the screaming and the running… It was not like him at all. Clara did not
understand this, and she knew that Edge did not understand either. He did not
know what was good for him.

“I
only wanted us to be together,” the child whined quietly, “but I see now that
you don’t feel the same.”

She
sighed dejectedly as he vanished from her sight in the dark. Then she shrugged
her tiny shoulders. The razor blade that was stuck in the air shifted. It
circled around her head as if an invisible hand was holding it. It stopped in
front of her, leaning back as Clara stared dead on into the direction Edge had
run off into. The blade tilted back–a little more. It spun forward.

The
razor was projected, tumbling end over end as if it had been thrown–only no one
had touched it. Clara stood still and quiet as the blade disappeared into the
dark with the rest of the unknown. Then, echoing back to her down the shaft was
the sound of breaking glass.

8

The
trip up the lift took longer than Anne might have liked, but now that she and
Olivia had finally reached the top, they could see that the way was clear, it
was quiet, and the vent that would lead them into Olivia’s room was
open
.
The woman could hardly contain the thrill she got from seeing her escape. She
was tired, and she knew the girl beside her was as well, but she gripped
Olivia’s hand and forced them both to jog.

Now,
she would get Olivia into bed and she would go back to her room. Then they
would see what the morning brought. That was, if she could stop her crying long
enough to sleep.

“I
feel sick,” Olivia said suddenly. Anne had hardly noticed that the girl had
slowed down considerably.

“No,
no; we’re almost there!” Anne insisted, snapping out of her thoughts and
tugging the girl’s arm.

“No,
really…I…”

That
was as far as Olivia got before a flood of dark bile burst from her mouth. The
color was odd–almost like blood; like spilling darkness. Anne had never seen
this before, especially not in someone healthy.

“Oh
my…” she uttered, gripping Olivia as she heaved once again, staining herself
with the rancid liquid.