The Nutcracker Bleeds (56 page)

Oh
God…

Olivia
had stood by now, wrapped in her quilt with the dolls stitched upon it. When
Todd turned from Anne, he hugged Olivia in a comforting sort of way, only the
girl did not appear pleased. She stared at Anne with pleading eyes, and the
nurse could not help but stare back.

Save
me
,
those eyes said.
You’re the only one who can save me. Don’t let me down
again.

Anne’s
mind was a chaos of thought. She wanted to save Olivia, but she wanted to save
herself just as strongly. She did not believe she could have both. She thought
of Armand. She thought of how many years he’d spent regretting his inability to
save the one he cared about. She thought of Brooke and his sense of morality
that he had given up his very existence for. Anne looked deep into Olivia’s
desperate eyes. The woman knew what she had to do.

“Anne?”
William asked, her voice calmer now. To hear that brought on a feeling of
comfort, but she would not be fooled. There was no comfort in this place
anymore.

“Alright,”
she consented. “I’ll confess.”

She
gained their trust with a shaky sigh of surrender, but as soon as William
stepped back from her, Anne fled from beneath the security of the blanket.

The
woman tore out of the room and flew down the stairs. There was yelling and
shuffling feet behind her, but she did not stop to give that any attention. She
had to get out! She had to get help!

The
second floor was an easy stretch and the footsteps behind her were still on the
stairs. Perhaps all the running she’d done recently had proved useful. They
were not going to catch her. She could not allow them to!

On
the first floor, she saw figures standing about as she streaked past, but she
did not care that they saw her. She ran past them, her hand already
outstretched to grip the knob that would let her outside.

The
knob was icy. When Anne opened the door, a burst of Winter’s fury hit her. The
freezing temperatures rolled over her bare skin, threatening to dry her out and
wither her quickly into the old hag she never believed she’d become. The sight
was beautiful really; with everything slicked over in ice and powdered by snow,
it was a frozen Wonderland. Anne did not stop to look at it.

She
dashed out the open door, not bothering to close it. She threw herself against
the handrail and jumped down the ice–covered steps. There was more yelling
behind her–several different voices–and though they all seemed close, she could
not hear what they were saying. Her feet pounded against the walkway beside the
street. The snow had wet her feet, causing them to stick and then tear away
against the ice with every step. Still, she did not stop.

Her
body protested. It was too cold to go any farther, but Anne could not stop
.
I have to save Olivia
, she thought, and it was with that thought in her
mind that she finally spotted the one she was looking for.

He
was beneath a street lamp, bundled in thick clothes, but she had known he would
be somewhere nearby. He always was. She did not know him personally, but she
relied on him. This was a quiet street, but it was never without police patrol.

Anne
screamed something she didn’t even understand in order to get the copper’s
attention, but since her voice was the only sound on the silent, frozen street,
it grabbed the man’s notice immediately. Anne did not wonder what he must have
thought. Not only was she coming at him like she was rabid, but how could she
have forgotten her clothes in such terrible weather? She did not care about any
of that.

“Please…”
she gasped, falling into the officer. “Help…”

The
officer, very new to his post, hesitated in shock before he managed to wrestle
his coat off.

“My
God
…”
he said in a way that admitted he did not know what to say.

He
pulled the coat around her tightly, unable to even ask her where she had come
from. Anne’s legs shook and then gave way. He caught her before she fell down
into the snow. A short distance away, she heard yelling.

“Please…”
she said again, drawing his attention back to her just before her vision began
to waver. “Help us.”

6

Officer
Franklin Jefferson did not appreciate being called out in the middle of the
night–especially on the eve of Christmas–but apparently the situation was
urgent, but even after he had arrived at the Ellington house and the situation
had been explained to him by the young patrolman, Scott Blanchard, he still
didn’t understand why this couldn’t have waited until morning. His grumpiness
had turned a rather serious situation into an absolute bother.

Jefferson
had separated the household, gathering all the involved parties into the parlor
and shutting everyone else out. He was left with the owner of this house,
William Ellington, a tall, fair–haired man who was graying suitably. Unlike the
others, he refused to sit, instead propping up against the mantle. This man
Ellington was wealthy and influential–not the sort of man you disturb in the
middle of the night–but at this moment, Jefferson did not care. He was here; it
was done.

There
was a younger man who sat relaxed in a chair. He was Todd Ellington, the nephew
of William. He seemed to be a calm and reasonable sort, but Jefferson could
tell by the clenching of his fists and the continuous jerking movement of his
foot that he was very anxious indeed. Something was amiss with that one.

A
nice–looking blonde woman said stiffly on the sofa, gazing at the floor. She
was Anne Wright, a live–in nanny. Her hands were joined together in front of
her, but they did not move, tightly clamped. There was no doubt that she looked
frazzled. There were bruises and she looked tired. She only stared downward.
She was either deep in thought or deep in a trance. It was impossible to tell.

Huddled
against the far end of the sofa was a girl much younger than the rest, but she
sat as quietly as they did. Her name was Olivia Ellington, daughter to William,
cousin to Todd, and charge of Anne. She looked only at her nurse. No one else.

After
the constable had observed them, and with Blanchard standing behind him, he
spoke. The fire crackled, expelling the cold.

“Now
that we’re all calm and dressed, let’s see if I have this right.” He turned his
attention to Anne. “You claim that these two gentlemen were plotting to kill a
Mrs. Agatha Ellington by methodically poisoning her, and that once you found
out and confronted them with this–tonight in fact–they tried to kill you as
well. You said they were also going to murder this girl Olivia, since she was
in your company. They stripped you both and tried to strangle you–hence the
bruising on your throat–but you escaped and ran for help. Is that correct?”

Anne
did not look at him.

“Yes,”
she answered softly.

The
copper then gave his attention to the two men.

“The
both of you claim that this woman was caught acting in a very inappropriate way
toward this young lady who is a patient in her care. You say that she made up
the whole story of the poisoning and attempted murder in order to hide her own
crimes? Is that correct?”

“Certainly
correct,” Todd said without hesitation.

The
officers turned their gazes toward William, who stood with shaking fingers to
his head.

“Yes,”
he finally agreed.

A
short chuckle escaped the mouth of the senior officer.

“Now,
everyone in this room certainly knows that not both of those stories can be
correct. I’m not the one who’ll have to make the decision, but let me tell you
that it would go much better for all of you if someone would like to tell the
truth.”

The
fire popped as it munched hungrily on the logs, but no one in the room said a
word. They all remained as they had been, none of them looking at each other.
Even Olivia had turned to look at the floor. Very well then; if this was how
things were going to be…

“Would
anyone like to tell me about what happened in the hall downstairs? Or is that a
completely unrelated matter?”

Still,
there was no response from any of them. In former years, he might have gotten
angry at how they only sat there as if nothing was happening, but these days,
he expected little more than that behavior. As a final resort, he moved toward
the only one in the room who had not said anything the whole while: the young
one named Olivia.

Jefferson
moved to the girl and knelt down in front of her. He struggled to keep his
voice soft, but it was certainly a task.

“Since
you’re the only one who hasn’t said anything, I can only assume that you are
trying to protect someone in this room. Or, maybe you’re afraid of someone in
this room.”

Gradually,
Olivia looked up at him.

“We
can go into another room if there’s something you’d like to tell me.”

He
gave her a warm look so that she might feel comfortable enough to talk.

“No,”
the girl said suddenly. “It’s alright.” The girl opened her mouth, preparing to
tell her story, and the officer smiled to himself.

Finally,
Jefferson
thought.
Now we are getting somewhere.

7

Anne
could hear it coming before it happened. Olivia had opened her mouth. As soon
as she opened it, the truth of what really happened would come spilling out,
but the story would sound like madness. No one would believe her. Then the girl
would be sent away, and Anne would still be in trouble either way the cards
were played.

But
there was still a chance, wasn’t there? There was still something she could do,
at least to save the girl.

Olivia
parted her lips. “It was the Ra–”

“It
was the toys and mice. They did it,” Anne said hastily.

Every
face in the room turned toward the voice that had spoken up in Olivia’s stead.
The woman on the other end of the settee sat, unmoving after her peculiar
outburst.

Jefferson
looked at her, quite unsure if he’d heard her correctly. “What?”

“The
toys are alive,” Anne said, more strongly. “I saw them with my own eyes.”

She looked
at him steadily, wearing a look of insistence. She knew they wouldn’t buy it,
and she also knew that making herself seem insane would erase her credibility
for every other claim she’d made tonight, but through this, Olivia would be
saved. The girl would understand. She would know to keep silent.

The
constable shook his head. The woman could not have actually believed this. She
was just trying to throw them off the subject.

“Don’t
play with us, miss…” he warned, but she interrupted.

“It’s
true,” she exclaimed, standing. “You have to believe me. Just ask Olivia.
Ask
her
!”

The
policemen looked toward the younger girl, and Olivia tried again, but Anne
broke back in before the girl had the chance to speak. She had no intention of
letting her be involved in this.

“The
toys and mice are fighting a war. I know; I was there. I saw what happened.
That is why the mouse blood is on the floor and why the presents are ruined. I
was shrunken like a tiny mouse and I saw them fighting.”

Anne
looked toward Blanchard, who stood quietly near the wall, observing it all with
wide eyes.

“You
believe me, don’t you?” she asked, pleading. He did not have time to even
consider a response for this woman which he, no doubt, believed he had rescued.
Jefferson had heard enough of this farce.

“This
is not a game, miss,” Jefferson warned, standing away from Olivia.

“No,
it’s not a game!”

The
woman stomped her foot into the floor angrily, but shortly after, when she had
their silent focus, she calmed once again.

“It
was the toys,” Anne insisted with the firmest, most honest face she’d ever put
forth. “They did it.”

She
told them the entire story from start to finish, sparing nothing except for
Olivia’s involvement so that the girl would have nothing to agree with later.
She spoke of the Jester puppet and the toy council. She told them of Brooke and
his brothers. She told them of the Rat King and his evil. She told them of the
nutcracker, of his deep depression and of her love for him. She spoke of how
she had finally escaped. They all listened, each growing more confused by the
moment as she raved on. After they had heard everything, Franklin Jefferson
stood still and unmoved. Slowly, he tilted his head to the side.

“Get
everyone out of this madhouse,” he told the young officer behind him. His voice
was very calm. “No one touches anything, not even his own belongings.” 

1

The
fire never escaped the Rat King’s ballroom. It only burned on the pale tile
until there was nothing left to devour, leaving only the large skeleton of a
mutated rat and two pairs of iron clamps used for cracking nuts. Neither were
ever discovered.

Every
resident of the Ellington house–guests and servants included–were ushered out,
not even allowed to take their personal items. Grouchy investigators then
combed over the house, searching every room starting with the stage for this
play: Olivia’s, room on the third floor.

Their
findings were atrocious.

Olivia’s
room was a mess. The floor was stained with blood and there were many toys lying
about. An abundance of dead mice and crushed toys were found beneath the bed.
They found no clothes on the floor that might have been ripped off by Todd and
William, as per the woman’s story. In fact, they found no garments of Anne’s at
all until they found a grey dress stuffed beneath a large vase in the second
floor hallway. It made little sense, but this finding discredited Anne’s words,
giving more weight to Todd and William’s story.

The
hall was just as much of a mess as Olivia’s room, and in their search, they
found yet another room that was destroyed. It was the toy room kept by the
other Ellington children. The dollhouse in the center of the room had
collapsed, and they had found the broken clock tower in Olivia’s room. Once
again, there were crushed toys lying about, but no evidence of mice in this
area. Why had this room been ruined? Why, because it was a toy room, of course.
It had to be destroyed in order to fit Anne’s story. Had Anne done it, or had
someone known of her beliefs and staged it as if she had done this?

A
rancid smell had led them into one of the guest rooms occupied by Clark and
Janette Ellington, and within their armoire on the top shelf, they found a
rather large oriental doll of cloth with a large pile of rotten food spilling
out of its ripped stomach. There were candles lit on the shelf as if someone
had been there recently, and there was quite a collection of religious symbols.
They began to develop a theory at this point.

Perhaps
the woman named Anne truly was insane. Could she have stripped in the hall and
run about the rooms naked, playing with dolls in various places as if they were
alive, destroying certain places to make it seem as though there had been a war
between mice and toys? There were still problems with that. She could not have
easily reached the armoire shelf in order to set all these things, and how
could she have done it without light? Yet if she’d had light, how could she not
have woken the sleeping guests? What about the mice? There was evidence of hundreds
and she could not have supplied them all, even if she’d claimed to have
released them in the house herself. There were so many holes, and they would
admit, it did appear as if the gluttonous toy had
eaten
the food…

A
search of Anne’s room had turned up nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing seemed
out of place there, which also seemed odd to them.

They
moved then to the next matter–the poisoning of Agatha Ellington. They searched
the room Todd had been staying in, searching through his luggage to find, stored
cleverly in a side pocket, a small vial of clear liquid. It was colorless and
odorless; perhaps tasteless as well? It could have easily been water. They
would have to test it later.

Assuming
that it was poison, and if someone had not planted it in the young man’s bag,
this would have been enough to lead him to the gallows. On top of that
evidence, a search of William’s office revealed several burnt papers–a few of
which could be read in tiny portions. Some even presented Todd’s name. There
was one letter buried in a stack of others, unburned and giving enough hints in
its wording to verify what Anne had said. William, with Todd’s help, had been
poisoning his wife. The letter also spoke of an arrangement for Todd to take
Olivia ‘
after it was done
’. This brought new things to light.

Even
after all that, the most shocking thing was the body of the famous toymaker,
Euan Ellington, which was found headless upon his bed. His body was tied with
such an intricate web of tiny strings that the investigators could hardly get
into the room without disturbing them. It was impossible to get near
the
body
without removing several. The strings stretched out all over the room,
wrapping around every part of the man so that it would have been impossible for
him to move. Who could have done this? Who could have been smart enough to
devise this, had the time it took to tie all these tiny strings? Why not simply
use a bigger rope? Most of all, who could have been tiny enough to run all the
strings without tangling themselves in? It would have been impossible. The
investigators would admit that, at a glance, they would have to agree that only
someone the size of a
doll
could have done this, but they were men of
sense, and there had to be a different reason.

Euan’s
head had been removed by a straight edge, something small and sharp, for there
was evidence that the neck had been raggedly sawed. The head was finally found
stuffed down in a shaft, wedged in between the third and second floor. It had
been carved out, and resting against the skull, stuck in blood, they found
mouse hair.

When
questioned, William did not know his brother was dead and seemed genuinely
concerned by the gruesome manner. Todd blamed it on Anne. Anne blamed it on the
toys. Olivia had only cried. It was all very difficult. Very difficult indeed.

Anne’s
story about the toys and mice might have seemed realistic if such a thing were
possible. Certainly the officers could not believe it, but a part of them
wanted to, simply because it would free both Anne and Olivia from horrible
crimes that they could not have committed. Anne seemed to be the only one with
no direct connection to Euan and no true reason to kill him, but she also
seemed the most probable suspect. Perhaps it was an obsession with toys that
had led her to kill a man who created them–so that there would be no more
living toys. This was possible, though the crime was so gruesome that they did
not imagine a woman could have done it. Such violence and care was a man’s
game.

Then
there was Olivia. What was her role–victim or suspect? The girl had been so
quiet about everything, only saying things of no consequence whenever she spoke
at all. There was something about her, and it was told to them by several
servants that
Olivia
was the one with the toy obsession. She had been
claiming for years that the toys spoke to her. She was sixteen years old, yet
she acted as a child. This did not sit well with the investigators. It only
complicated things more.

Why
were all the pieces so scattered? Was it possible that Olivia had done
everything and Anne had cleverly devised a way to cover up for the girl?
Certainly, that was also possible. Olivia was the strange one, though harmless,
and no one had reported anything but very polite and upstanding behavior on
behalf of Anne–though a couple of servants hesitantly divulged suspicions of an
affair with William. It was very clear that both men deserved severe
punishment, but something did not fit on Anne and Olivia’s side of things.

Did
the investigators have no hearts? Olivia was only a girl, younger on the inside
than out. Was it wrong of Anne to want to give that girl a second chance? A
chance to grow up? If the woman was willing to sacrifice everything to protect
the girl, perhaps they should let her.

After
all their searching had left several things still unexplained, this was the
outcome:

The
liquid in the vial was found to be a very sophisticated poison that had never
been seen before, perhaps developed by the young Todd Ellington himself. The
young man was found guilty of being an accomplice to attempted murder. Todd was
sentenced to death, and his poison was sent to his former university for study.

William
Ellington was, by evidence of the letters, charged with conspiring to murder
his wife, but in order to get this rich, influential man squarely, they linked
Euan’s murder to him in all ways possible.
Something
had to be released
to the public, and they could not leave such a gruesome death unsolved. William
was found guilty, and he too was sentenced to death.

The
nurse, Anne Wright, was charged with inappropriate outbursts and conduct, and
was blamed for all the damage to the house. Yes; they believed she had done it,
but prison was not the place for a woman like her. They prosecutors were kind.
A nice room was reserved for her at Bedlam. Under the asylum’s very
special
care, the world would be safe from her outbursts and strange ideas.

When
people spoke of her after that, they shook their heads.

Poor,
poor Anne. She should have kept her desires harnessed. She should have accepted
her place in the world and remained as a church mouse. Then none of this would
have happened.

2

One
month later…

 From
within the carriage, Olivia looked back at the house that she had spent her
entire life in, seeing it loom now over the hushed street like some dark
secret. She had spent every birthday here; every Christmas. Now she would have
no more. She was leaving here, and she was never coming back.

The
men were still loading the carts with furniture and luggage while Olivia and
her siblings sat quietly inside the carriage with their mother. Things had been
different since her uncle’s murder–since her father and Todd had been
convicted. The life seemed to have drained from everyone. Even her mother, who
had gradually been recovering from her illness over the past month, didn’t seem
to fully understand what had happened to her family. But Olivia knew. Olivia
knew exactly what had happened.

Anne
was not with her anymore. She was just
gone
. Olivia knew where the woman
was, but at the same time she did not. For the first time, Olivia could
actually say she missed Anne being there, guiding her days. The girl might have
been different and a bit odd, but she was not beyond comprehension. She
understood that Anne had taken her place in punishment. She thanked the woman
silently every day for saving her from that fate she would never know.

Everything
had been terrible, truly awful–with all that had happened to her within the toy
world–but after everything, Olivia had learned something important. She knew
she did not want to live in that other world anymore. There was a barrier
between them now, separating what was real from what was not
real
. She
wanted what was real. She wanted to be in the same world as her brothers and
sister; the same as her mother. Olivia was ready to grow up.

Olivia
gazed over at them–her family–as the driver urged the horses to move and the
carriage began to roll down the frozen street. Two of her brothers beside her
were quietly harassing a cricket they had smuggled inside. Young Elizabeth
leaned against their mother, who sat stroking the girl’s hair.

“We’re
going to have a fresh start,” Agatha said, though Olivia thought she was
actually talking to herself. “Everything will be alright now.”

Yes;
Olivia agreed. She was going to get a new start, and everything was going to be
alright.

From
beneath the spread of her coat and dress, she withdrew two dolls from the seat
beside her. One was a pretty lady in a fancy dress. The other was an upright
toy soldier. Olivia examined them closely. They looked back at her with false
eyes. They did not speak.

“I’m
sorry, Edmond,” she whispered quietly so that no one else could hear, “but
you’ll have to deal with Madeline on your own from now on. I’m afraid we can’t
be friends anymore.”

The
dolls did not respond to her, but of course they did not. They were simple
toys. Olivia seemed satisfied with their silence. She sighed, setting her
resolve. She then took both dolls by their feet and tossed them out the window
abandoning them in the snow.

3

The
walls were white. The ceiling and floor were white. The new jacket she’d been
given was white; wasn’t it lovely? Anne’s entire world was devoid of color.

There
was a window near the top of the tiny room, but it was too high for her to see
anything except a portion of sky. She knew when the day had turned to night and
when the sun came up again. She knew when it snowed, but hadn’t been there long
enough to see rain. It was still in the heart of winter. The sky was always
black at night and always grey and dreary during the day, so eventually she’d
stopped looking to the window at all.

She
sat in the corner now, absently biting down on a strand of hair that had
drifted into her mouth. It had been a month. One whole month–in and out of
solitude, speaking to doctors who treated her like much less than they were,
and dealing with orderlies who did not know where to keep their hands. She had
thought that it would not take her long to convince the people here that she
was
not
mad, but somehow they did not seem to care one way or the other.
She was, apparently, criminally insane. Anne was never going to get out.