The Nutcracker Bleeds (12 page)

“Why
would I?”

She
couldn’t believe her ears! Then again, judging by what she’d seen of him so
far, she didn’t know why she was surprised.

“What
do you mean ‘
why
’?” she snapped at him. “You’re a soldier! It’s your
job!”

He
stopped but didn’t turn to face her.

“It
would do nothing to stop it,” he said dully. “Moreover, she’s likely enjoying
it.”

“What!”
That was not Anne’s perception at all. “How can you say that?”

The
soldier turned toward her halfway. He crossed his arms before him and the metal
ridges clanked together unpleasantly.

“You’re
not part of this world. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Well
I’m simply
dying
to have it explained to me!” she insisted with a harsh
look.

To
her surprise, he obliged.

“Those
toys have no concept of what it is to be normal or reserved–as you think of it.
They have no restrictions to what they will do. They don’t understand her sobs,
and
she
doesn’t understand them either–only that they’re coming forth.
My interference would do nothing.”

“It
would stop this!”

She
was angry now, completely repulsed with him–even more so than when he’d eaten
the termite wing.

“Would
it make you feel better if I did?” he asked, his voice low and dark. “But why
would you care? She’s only a
toy
.”

“This
isn’t my world,” she admitted. “But she is your own kind and it’s absolutely
disgusting
for you to refuse her help.”

What
is with you, Anne?
she wondered to herself.
Who are you preaching to?

“That
doll isn’t like a human,” he growled, dropping his arms and turning fully.
“She’s not like you. They’ll tire of her eventually and she’ll get up, polish
the markings off her skin, put her costume back on, and dance away without much
thought to it. Do you know why?”

“Of
course I don’t!” she yelled, forgetting that she should be quiet.

“Because!”
he shouted back, but then regained his low tone after that first word. “Though
she might not think this is pleasant–which still remains to be seen–she has no
idea that it’s wrong of them. Neither do they know what they are doing to her
is wrong. They have no sense of morality, and this world is lawless.”

Anne’s
anger retreated somewhat as she listened to him–truly listened and tried to
comprehend.

“Granted,”
he went on, “the child sovereign is attempting to develop some sort of order,
but even those laws are miniscule at this point. She doesn’t truly understand
how they think, because she’s not like them, so she cannot very well set
standards. Judging by what I’ve seen, these toys have been alive for quite a
while without any guidance. They were smart enough to build and create, but not
to have laws. The toys are completely feral. They have feelings but don’t
understand them and so they act spontaneously without thought to consequence.
And yet there is no release.”

“You
talk about ‘
those toys’
as if you aren’t one,” she said, her voice
gentle and quiet now. “You’re different? I admit; you do seem so.”

“I
am,” he acknowledged. “I have principles and self–control. But still not much
of a conscience.”

The
sound of that made her feel somewhat uncomfortable, but before he shut her
down, she managed another question.

“You
said that these toys have been alive for quite a while. Does that mean that
toys are not born alive…or, rather, they’re not alive when they’re created?”

If
toys were alive–and
had
been alive beneath the noses of man this entire
time–wouldn’t at least the makers of the toys have known? Wouldn’t someone like
Euan have known? And was that why they created toys? Playing God? Was this why
Euan had taken up for Olivia this whole time, insisting that she wasn’t insane
when she heard her dolls talking to her?

“Only
in this house,” the nutcracker replied, snapping her back. “They’ve never been
alive elsewhere. I’ve never seen anything like this
kingdom
before.”

“You’ve…but…”

She
tried to understand his contradiction. How could he possibly have known that
toys were not always alive and that it was only happening in this house unless
he’d been alive the entire time, seeing so many other places and knowing that
this was unlike any other?

But
he wouldn’t explain it, and she didn’t have time to ask. He shook his head
dismissively.

“It’s
the curse,” he said. “I don’t know the construction, I just know it exists.”

Anne’s
heart jumped. “Curse? That’s absurd!”

He
sighed in disappointment, perhaps having thought that she was competent enough
to understand
and
accept all this. Apparently he’d been proven wrong.

“If
you haven’t thought of any rational way to explain all this and what’s happened
to you, don’t dismiss it.”

The
nutcracker turned and walked away down the shaft, further toward the darkness. Anne
sulked, peering out through the vent, though this time unfeelingly. The torture
on the doll was continuing.

“It’s
easy to explain,” she said under her breath. “This is all a dream.”

She
imagined that he would ignore her if he even heard her at all, but he stopped
abruptly. He turned back to look at her, his long hair sliding across his
shoulder. Even in the dark, she could see the displeasure on his face.

“A
dream?” he questioned, now seeming disgusted with
her
. “Would you like
to hear a nightmare?”

He
advanced toward her, footsteps steady and measured. This time, she backed away,
but he did not stop moving toward her.

“I
know you can hardly imagine, but do try as I paint the picture for you,” he
menaced, then continued with his tale.

“Having
always been
something
, I understand it must be difficult to imagine what
it’s like to be
nothing
, so, instead, just imagine that you are in the
most deep and peaceful kind of sleep. There are no dreams. Everything is
darkness and you feel nothing but comfortable in it.”

She
listened as she moved along the edge of the shaft, following the wall so she
couldn’t trip as she traveled backward. Still, he gained ground on her.

“Suddenly,
you open your eyes, and around you is a world you’ve never seen before. You
realize that you’re
alive
and all at once, everything that it means to
be alive hits you with the weight of a thousand bricks. You’re hungry. You’re
thirsty. You have desires of the flesh. It’s only then that you realize that
you don’t have flesh with which to devour or to satisfy your lusts. Any food
that you manage to stuff inside your body,
rots
. Drink soaks through to
your outer skin if you’re cloth–if not, it doesn’t run through you at all.
There
is no release
. Some are better off than others. Like that ballerina.
Clothing can be removed and she has a desirable shape. She gets attention from
the others. But still, the general rules are the same.

“There
is only one certainty, and that is that there are other larger living things
around you, and you can’t let them see you move or hear you speak, or they will
be on to you. Your world is still a part of theirs and they can’t know. You
have absolutely no morals or understanding thereof, and the only one there to
teach you is a disturbed little girl who doesn’t even know the answers
herself–one who thinks that this is all a wonderful game and doesn’t understand
that it’s very real. What do you think would happen to you?”

Anne
had stopped, for somehow he had managed to back her into the wall as she’d
listened to him in horror. Her face was pale and her breathing was unsteady but
she forced herself to look at him. He was completely terrifying to her, but she
believed everything he’d said.

“I’d
be completely mad,” she couldn’t help but answer.

He
gave a slight nod.

“Now,
imagine that this has happened not only to you, but to an entire town. An
entire
country
. And now you should know why everything around you is
atrocious.”

“Oh
my God,” Anne uttered as she realized it.

“There
is no God here,” he said harshly. “Only Olivia.”

Out
of all the things he’d told her, this scared her the most.

“And
what about me?” she queried, nearly choking on her words. “I can’t be part of
this curse. I’m not a doll!”

“You’re
quite right about that,” he said. “About you and the girl, I’m not sure yet.
But you need to remember that anything you may have used to your advantage in
your other life will do nothing here.”

Other
life?

The
nutcracker moved very close. She could feel his hair blowing against her with
the warm wind of the shaft. He smelled of wood and new paint, but the white
hair had a different smell. Somehow, it smelled real, faintly like natural oil.

“It
doesn’t matter how pretty you are…or how soft and warm your body is.”

He
touched her face, feeling her skin beneath his fingers that were painted black
to suggest gloves. She tried absently to move away from his touch, but he
gripped her jaw and forced her to look up at him.

“Every
toy desires the feel of flesh,” he said, tracing her lips. “It’s fairly
obvious, I think, programmed deep within without awareness. They desire the
Lady, but respect her too much to touch her. You, on the other hand, are not so
lucky. Some in her court are repulsed by you, and so you have no problem
walking around there freely. Elsewhere, however, I imagine you wouldn’t come
out so cleanly. You’d best take care.”

She
had nothing to say to that, and knowing he’d made his point and adequately put
her in her place, the nutcracker walked away with no other words on his lips.
At any other time, she might have been glad to be rid of him, but she had great
concerns. Before he could get far, Anne gripped his arm, her hand against the
metal ridge that had been warmed by the air.

“Am
I ever going to get out of this?” she asked him, her eyes pleading, as if he
had anything to do with it. “Or will I keep running for my life, surviving as
long as I can until the day I am caught. Raped and tortured by some hideous and
insane object or eaten alive by rodents?”

Armand
did not tilt his head to look at her–didn’t have to consider at all.

“I
don’t know,” he said simply.

Her
hopes fell. Perhaps it was impossible to escape.

“But
I suggest that if you want to find out, you grab onto whatever sanity you can grip
and run forward with it as fast as you can.”

Anne
stared into his hollow eyes, knowing that he was right. If she wanted to know
the truths about all this, she couldn’t just curl up in a ball and cry. She
couldn’t give up.

She
was unsure how she felt about this wooden prince–whether her sentiment was
complete fear or just strong dislike–but no matter how strange he was, she knew
she had great respect for him alongside any other feelings.

Anne
stood up a little straighter, and then gave a nod of agreement.

“That’s
a good girl,” he said, though the sound of it wasn’t very affectionate. “Now
let’s go.”

There
were still many questions she could ask, but she was seized by his words and
could not bother with the rest now.
Move forward
. Yes, that was good
advice.

She
could still hear the sounds of the crying doll though the grate, but she could
better ignore it now. Anne led the nutcracker forward, concentrating on that
and shutting all doubts from her mind.

1

The
rest of the trek was silent for Anne and the nutcracker who followed her. She
thought only of the directions, and he had nothing else to say. That was
probably best. She didn’t need him to tell her any more harsh truths.

She
took one wrong turn through the dark passages, but realized it early enough to
turn back. The shaft had been getting warmer, moving closer to a fire. They
should have been moving into the colder stretches if they wanted to get to the
rodents’ lair.

Further
on in the cold, still shafts, their feet began to crunch over termites that had
lost their wings and died. Anne didn’t care much for that, but at least she was
on top this time. Eventually she got them back on the correct path, and it took
them straight to the place where she’d entered into the enemy realm. Anne had
fulfilled her duty–

–except
that the stinking, cavernous opening was no longer there.

The
place where the entrance had been was walled up with mud and leaves and doll
stuffing had been closed off. The entire square–foot of open space was
gone
.

“That
was terribly fast,” she uttered in confusion as she stared at it.

It
should have taken ages for mice to do such a job, yet it had only taken these a
matter of minutes? Come to think of it, how long
had
it been since she’d
been here with the jester and returned with the nutcracker?

“Are
you certain this is it?” he asked, stepping forward to examine the wall.

“Yes,”
she replied, still dumbfounded.

Armand
moved to the wall, putting his hands on it to test how well it was packed. She
stood back and watched him, confused until she realized that she ought to be
relieved. The only entrance she knew of was gone. Now perhaps they could just
leave.

As
she stood in the chilling cold, growing more impatient by the moment, she had
the sudden notion of a presence behind her. The feeling crept up her spine like
spider legs. Everything was silent, but she sensed something edging close. She
felt a warm breeze that smelled like the putrid breath of one who had devoured
his own waste.

Anne
didn’t want to look.

“A–Armand…”
she said quietly,
worriedly
.

The
nutcracker turned back to her, immediately catching sight of the thing looming
behind her with its jaws outstretched.

“Verdammt,”
he muttered in annoyance. “Get down!”

She
did as he asked, and even as he was speaking, his fingers had found one of the
needles strapped to his leg.

Not
only had the soldier seen the diseased–looking mouse with the foaming lips, but
the rodent had seen
him
. The creature’s beady eyes lit with recognition,
and it might have turned to run if the needle hadn’t so swiftly found a place
through its eye, wedging into its brain. The mouse didn’t even have time to
screech before blood was seeping through its teeth and it was falling to the
ground.

To
her misfortune, the beast fell over onto Anne’s legs before she could get
clear. She flailed and gasped, trying to pull herself out from beneath its
warm, greasy weight. No sooner than she’d gotten free did Armand jerk her up
roughly. Anne considered her behavior in the passing seconds, expecting to
receive some sort of punishment from him, but the nutcracker gripped her arm
that held the cat’s eye marble and forced her to hold it between her hands–one
on the top, one on the bottom. With his own hand, he guided her fingers
furiously in a back and forth motion across the surface of the glass, and
before her eyes, the marble began to glow a green light that became stronger
the more he forced her to make the motion. She was rubbing the marble like
Aladdin’s lamp, and a genie of light had stirred.

Anne’s
grey eyes widened. Curses? Magic marbles? This was ludicrous!

How…what…?

A
dozen questions came into her mind that only promised to lead to another dozen.
But before she got any one of them out, Armand slapped his hand across her
mouth.

“Do
you want to live, or die tonight like the rest?” he threatened quietly.

Her
eyes grew wide at those words and from how harshly he gripped her face, but she
obediently kept her mouth shut. In the silence that followed beneath the green
light, the soldier listened.

His
invisible eyes peered around–
waiting
. Anne looked around as well once he
had removed his hand from her mouth. She saw nothing–

A
large shape moved past. Before she could register that she’d jumped in
surprise, the nutcracker had gripped the passing shadow, jerking it backward.
Another mouse. He pulled the squirming rodent dressed in a ripped white shroud
into the metal crook of his arm. In the most horrifying headlock she’d ever
seen, the nutcracker crushed the mouse’s skull.

Blood
trickled from the rodent’s nose and ears; the skin was pulled and distorted as
Anne watched the creature fall to the ground. As a stench hit the air, she
covered her mouth, suppressing sound or maybe even vomit. She clenched the
marble to feel safe within the light. But she didn’t have long to calm herself
before Armand had gripped her wrist again and was pulling her forward, not
caring that he was hurting her.

The
emerald gleam flooded over the area inch by inch, and when the nutcracker had
finally decided that there had only been two mice in their midst, he released
her. At the first mouse he’d slain, he reached down and jerked the needle from
within the rodent’s eye, puss and blood covering it.

Anne
examined the mouse’s corpse, sickened by the sight of the gore and thinking
thoughts of disease. She was catching her breath, but the nutcracker didn’t
seem to care. He gripped her collar and jerked her close to him. Could he not
be so rough? She was capable of understanding
words
. Anne could see the
clumps of bloody flesh and fur that were clinging to the metal of his arm.

“No
more screaming,” he commanded, holding the gruesome needle where she could see.
“No matter what happens, you have to keep control.”

“I’m
sorry!” she cried, shoving his hand away and dropping the marble. She was
appalled that the admission of guilt had shot from her mouth, but even more
upset that she was beaten down enough to
mean
those words.

Though
his face was always so bland, she thought she might have seen something there
that acknowledged he’d gone too far. Even so, he offered no apology.

He
leaned over to pick up the cat’s eye, offering the dimming green glass back to
her without words. Brushing a strand of golden hair from her eyes, she took it
back hesitantly.

“It
will stay lit if you hold it but if you let it go, the light will fade. When
you want the light back just rub it vigorously like I showed you. But only with
your flesh, not nails,” he warned. “It should be of some use to you.”

Anne
stared down at the glowing orb for a moment before looking back at him.

“This
is all really happening, isn’t it?” she concluded finally, letting go of all
her foolish hopes that this was a dream.

He
looked back at her a moment as if he couldn’t believe she was just now
admitting it.

“Glad
you decided to join me,’ he said as a reply, wiping the needle clean with his
wooden hand.

“So
I suppose that since it’s closed off here, you don’t need my help anymore,” she
said, not bothering to keep the hope out of her voice.

The
nutcracker lingered in front of her as if he would say something meaningful,
but then he moved past her and headed down the tunnel without waiting for her.

“You’re
right,” he agreed.

She
didn’t watch him go, only standing there with the cat’s eye as she considered.
Was she already becoming much tougher? She didn’t feel like crying. He’d
treated her like a rag doll–like some sort of instrument–but she wanted to be
near him. She
needed
to. He was strong, and though he said he had no
further use for her, he’d destroy any obstacles in their path on the way back.
Thoughts of survival were ruling her mind.

Out
of desperation for having nothing but a marble and a nutcracker, Anne followed
him.

2

Movement
through the dark shafts was swift–always swift. Fleshy claws didn’t slip, and these
feet took warriors and messengers just where they wanted to go. They also took
them back to where they belonged. On this night, as with every night, there was
much going on within the Ellington house.

The
scraggly young mouse with a missing ear skittered to a stop in his master’s
quarters where the throne sat, his bloody nose twitching nervously. Everything
around him was in darkness, save for a few tall candles that reached twice as
high as he did, dripping cascades of wax, but the mouse didn’t mind. There was
more comfort in the dark.

He’d
gone out to do his appointed job the day before when he’d so cleverly hidden in
the toy chest, waiting anxiously for the human female to stick her hand
inside–only he’d made a mistake. The one that had stuck her hand into the box
was not the one he had been supposed to infect. He’d instead marked the
child
before he’d realized the mistake, and it could not be reversed. After that,
things had gone from bad to worse.

The
issue of the child was thought over and finally she was deemed to be a worthy
sacrifice. Her admittance into their world was acceptable to the master. It was
not counted as a mistake, and the rodent felt relief. However, when the girl
had finally lowered down to them, the toys had claimed her abruptly. They’d
made her their ruler, and all would lay down their lives in order to keep their
enemies from getting to her.

Then,
there had been the
next
concern.

Tonight
in the kitchen, this twitchy mouse named Sllevk had tried to correct his
mistake by biting the
other
female. He’d bitten her deep at the ankle so
that the infection would spread more quickly than the girl’s, but then they’d
run into trouble in the form of the housecat that in turn, had destroyed many
of their number. He, himself, was lucky to escape with his tail.

He’d
gone to collect the pretty young woman, but another problem had emerged. She
was nowhere to be found. They’d located the pile of her clothes on the second
floor of the house, but she’d not been within them. This was indeed a terrible
night. The mice were now stuck with two flesh girls running free in this world,
and either one was set to please the master, but one was impossible to get to
and the other’s whereabouts were unknown.

Moreover,
things were intensifying between the two sides. The girl sovereign had
acknowledged this as war with prior knowledge of what the rodents were up to.
Units of soldiers were mobilizing and spies were patrolling the house. The toys
were standing up to their enemies much harder than they had before.

Everything
was a mess. Sllevk knew it was
his fault
.

He
stood before the master’s throne, refusing to look up at his lord, wringing his
dirty, pink hands. Around the room–a dank, stinking room that might have
smelled like roses to Sllevk–other lowly mice moved about along their own
business, but still he felt all of their eyes on him.

“You’ve
messed up royally, Sllevk.”

The
sound of his name made the mouse cringe, but it was his master’s voice that
gave life to his fear.

Sllevk
had been with the master for years, and he’d never made mistakes like this
before.

“I’m
s–s–sorry my liege,” the mouse sputtered with an impediment common to all the
mice. Only their master did not have that hindrance. Though, Sllevk
had
noticed something odd about the lord’s voice. He didn’t quite sound like all
the English–speaking humans in the house, which he’d observed from the shadows
for the whole of his life.

The
mouse was displeased with himself, but much more terrified that his master was
unhappy with his performance. He’d once been such a simple creature like all
the rest, stealing crumbs and making nests in the walls. Their master had been
different.

When
he’d come to them–Sllevk himself being part of a group the master had gathered
before they’d ever come into the Ellington house–the master had made them so
much more than they’d ever dreamed. The mice had always been intelligent, but
he’d taught them to speak. He’d taught them to function as a society–while
giving leeway for instincts that could not be abolished. He’d taught them about
power and gave them a true thirst for death and blood.

The
toys came alive not long after they’d all gotten comfortable in this human
palace. Sllevk had not believed his eyes, but it was true. The rodents were to
create a grand kingdom of toys and vermin for their master to rule–only they
hadn’t been able to conquer the toys so easily. With their new life, the
playthings had whispered their fears to their own master, the child Olivia.
She’d encouraged them to fight back, and they had. Now she had come to them
like Sllevk’s own master had come to him and his brethren.