The Nutcracker Bleeds (5 page)

He
found her just as he had expected to, sitting on the bed, cross–legged on the
mattress in her night dress. Her long hair was loose and draped over her
shoulders, her watery eyes staring down at the ballerina that danced in front
of her. She’d heard him come in, but she didn’t lift her eyes, simply laying
the doll long–ways across her legs.

“Why
did Todd hurt them?” Olivia asked. “They did nothing.”

“Todd
was just upset,” Euan said gently, already suspecting the truth that Todd had
been the one to break the dolls. Olivia hadn’t done this. He knew the girl–knew
her limits and her mind. Euan only regretted that he’d not noticed the young
man’s absence from the hall sooner.

“He
didn’t mean to hurt your dolls,” Euan said, merely trying to make her feel at
ease.

“Yes,
he did,” Olivia said, her words forceful. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Euan
smiled, taking her pause as a signal to step forward. He seated himself on the
large wooden chest near the foot of her bed. He watched her for several
moments, waiting for her to acknowledge him until finally she looked up and
smiled, almost as though she hadn’t just been crying, wiping her tears away on her
ruffled sleeve cuff.

He
smiled back at her, unable to help himself. Her innocence was unlike anything
he’d ever seen. Her purity was mixed with wisdom, and that was rarely
encountered by anyone. Still, if he were to address her about the matter he wished
to, he would have to wipe all smiles away. He had to show her he was serious.

“I
was in my room unpacking,” he began, putting on his most solemn face. “Some of
the toys weren’t where I had left them. You haven’t been in my room, have you?”

The
girl was quiet, taking the moment of silence to begin humming a song; her way
of ignoring him. When she would hum, people would usually stop talking to her,
accepting that she didn’t hear them for the sound of her own humming, but not
him. Never her uncle.

“Olivia”
he said firmly, raising his silver eyebrows to await her answer.

She
held up her index finger, making it catch his attention, then she turned her
head to look at it herself, squinting as if trying to figure it out. She
paused, not speaking until she was sure he’d focused on the bandage there on
her finger.

“There
was a mouse in the toy chest yesterday,” she said, considering it herself as
she spoke. “It bit me. I bled.”

“Were
you frightened?” he asked, humoring her.

“It
bothered Anne, but not me. We all bleed.”

She
paused then, looking over her uncle’s hands and coat, searching.

“But
not
him
,” she added. “He shouldn’t bleed–unless it’s in a fair battle.”

He
knew what she was seeking, but he withheld the prize from her.

“You
never answered me before,” Euan said finally, adjusting the cuffs of his
sleeves. “Did you? Did you go into my room?”

She
finally gave her attention back to his face, wearing her doll smile, painted on
perfectly and symmetrically between her pale cheeks. He’d used it as
inspiration for some of his own creations.

“Of
course not,” she said. “I know the rules. I would never disrespect you like
that.”

He
nodded then, believing her. She would hold nothing like this from him. If she
told him she had not gone into the forbidden room, then she had not. It was
simple, but though she hadn’t, he was sure that
someone
had.

“Do
you have him?” she asked hopefully, refusing to search the man over again and
instead looking into his eyes.

“You
haven’t named him?” Euan asked, a bit surprised.

He
reached into a deep pocket and withdrew her newly beloved toy, repaired and
looking just as good as he must have on the day of his creation. She took the
prince from him quickly, looking over the repaired appendage and stroking the
nutcracker’s soft hair.

“He
hasn’t told me what he wants to be called. No matter how I coax, he won’t speak
to me. Not like the others.”

Euan
knew that all of Olivia’s dolls and toys had names. He’d often heard her
introduce herself to them, and then in the silence which was their turn to
speak, Olivia would hear the dolls tell her what they wanted to be called. He
had no doubts that the girl actually heard them speaking, but he did not
understand it. He was far removed from that.

“Everyone
is disappointed in me,” Olivia said, not sounding very happy with herself about
the matter. “Are you too, uncle?”

“I
could never be disappointed in you, sweet treasure,” Euan said lovingly.
“Others don’t understand you, that’s all, but none of that matters.”

The
man reached up with long fingers to push blond strands from the girl’s face
before he continued.

“What
happened tonight is over,” he said. “It is in the past. Yet do not worry about
tomorrow either. You must be happy with yourself now.”

“It
isn’t fair that they don’t understand me,” she said. “I understand them
perfectly well.”

“
I
understand you,” Euan promised, taking Olivia’s hand gently, looking at her
as though she were his own child, “and you will always be my perfect doll.”

Olivia
smiled as her uncle kissed her forehead, then rose to leave and attend to his
own matters. When he reached the door, he dimmed the lamp slightly.

“Sleep
peacefully on this present night,” he said. “For who knows where we will be
tomorrow.”

With
that said and the girl made happy again, Euan pulled the door closed.

 
7

Olivia
slept, thinking only of strange boxes with unworldly things inside, the
nutcracker resting next to her. The night in the house became quiet as it grew
later–and
colder
. The children were secured in their beds. Those who had
only been guests for dinner had left, and the rest of the family had retreated
into the parlor for quiet conversation and a nightcap before they retired.

The
grandfather clock in the hall chimed away, informing all that it was the tenth
hour.

1

Even
though there was a deep hush over the Ellington house, Anne awoke in her bed
after sleeping for only two hours.

Admitting
that something felt odd to her would have been understating, because truly,
something had not been sitting right within her mind and gut since dinner.
There were a number of different things that had been keeping her awake as she
lay in the dark, closing her eyes only to be barraged with questions and confused
images.

Anne
had been dreaming, and in that dream, she’d been a doll–or at least dressed as
one. She’d worn an elegant dress, as stylized royalty would wear, but when
she’d looked down at it, she’d noticed that the material was not actually
velvet, the gems that adorned her neck and crown were not real, and her shoes
were painted on. She’d looked in front of her–across a large span of shining
floor–and heard sounds of chaos. There was clanging of swords, and she quickly
recognized the very interesting nutcracker doll that Olivia had been presented
with that night.

The
soldier with long, white hair was battling fiercely against a mouse that was
half his size, and Anne thought it was the one that she’d seen the day before
in the toy chest–the one that had bitten Olivia. Somehow, through the cloud of
her dream–state, Anne knew she was a princess, and the nutcracker was defending
her against this rodent.

The
fight raged on, and finally the nutcracker cut the mouse down with his sword
that was made of wood, but not without taking a wound to his arm. Anne watched
as blood gushed from a gash in the wood, pooling over the light–colored floor.

She
had been compelled to run to her hero, not seeming to care about the blood that
soaked into her dress as it dragged across the floor. She ran for a long time,
but couldn’t quite reach him. The nutcracker had fallen past the mouse it had
slain, and when she finally reached the rodent, its corpse rose up, reanimated,
and bit her ankle.

There
was a screech as its teeth slid against the pale porcelain that her leg had
become. There was a hint of pain, but she didn’t stop running.

Anne
had reached the fallen soldier, but before she was able to grip his arm, she
happened to look down into the pool of his blood that was all around her now.

She
had screamed when she’d seen her reflection in that blood, for now she had
turned into a decidedly ugly young woman. Her lovely face and hourglass figure
were gone, replaced now by a bloated and hideous creature with blemishes on her
face, a terrible nose, brittle hair, and more fat around her waist than she
could make up for elsewhere.

That
was when Anne awoke–
a nightmare!
–and since then her mind had been unable
to find rest again. She thought about Olivia and about the girl’s certainty
that she was shrinking. She thought about the way Todd had looked at the girl
at dinner–what he’d said to her afterward. She considered how Olivia had
insisted that she leave the light on in her room so that the dolls wouldn’t be
afraid–the way she’d cried and cradled the nutcracker with his broken leg,
claiming that the toy was
bleeding
…

Apparently,
Olivia’s extraordinary mind had run away with her once again.

Anne
knew of Olivia’s strange delusions about her dolls being alive, but it had
never been more apparent to her than it had today. Somewhere along the way,
she’d forgotten the depth of the girl’s madness. Perhaps she’d just learned to
ignore it, but aside from these thoughts that plagued the young woman’s mind,
there was also a strange feeling–an incessant pestering–that kept moving around
inside her. She felt disturbed, as if something wasn’t right within this house,
this
room
.

Olivia
, she thought.
I
should go check on her
.

Instinctually,
she quieted herself and listened. Air rolled down through the metal grate as if
the house itself was breathing. Around her in the other rooms, all was quiet,
but everyone would have been asleep at this hour.

Anne
listened closer, stifling her breath, and finally she began to hear something
from above.

The
sound was very faint; a whisper of noise, but Anne recognized it as scratching.
There was no rhythm to it, only the sound of something very lightweight
dragging gently across the wooden floor above. Was Olivia up and playing at
this hour? Anne couldn’t hear any voices, and there was
always
talking
when Olivia played with her toys.

“Olivia?”
Anne called out quietly in the dark.

No
reply. The scratching continued.

The
nurse leaned over and twisted the knob on the lamp beside her bed, increasing the
gas jet to make the flame rise. She knew that the sound was possibly just a rat
in the space between the floors–though she shuddered to think that–but there
was still that feeling she had. Something wasn’t quite right.

Anne
sat up, rolling over to slide off the bed, but jerked back when a dark shape
fell off her stomach and onto the mattress. There was something sitting atop
her? She’d not felt it at all…

Her
hand found the object and she lifted it up, finding herself examining a rather
repulsive jester puppet that grinned at her from a large, toothy mouth. The
marionette with the white face and black suit had its strings cut, now
separated from its wooden controls.

Anne
recognized this one. She remembered Olivia showing it to her and remembered thinking
that it was the ugliest toy she’d ever seen. The jester had an evil sneer and a
leering gaze. Why a girl would want something like this, she didn’t know. In
fact, Anne didn’t even want to touch it.

Ugly
thing. I don’t like the look on his face.

She
shook her head then, feeling silly even though there was no one else around to
see her being ridiculous. It was just a doll. How it had gotten into her room
was the important thing.
Olivia must have put it here
. How had
she
gotten into the room?

Was
she here now?

“Olivia?”
she tried again, but a quick sweep of the room with the lantern revealed that
it was empty.

The
bed squeaked slightly as Anne pulled her weight from it. She was still wearing
the dress she’d worn to dinner, her hair still pulled up in a messy bun,
flattened now against the pillow. She’d fallen asleep in her clothes more often
than she’d like to admit, but the days were long and headaches were common.
Besides that, she never knew when she would have to get up in the night because
of a fit. Olivia’s room was right above her own. Unlike the other servants, she
was allowed to stay upstairs, and there was a vent in the ceiling that let
sounds come down to her. She stepped in front of the mirror to smooth her hair
and wipe the sleep from her eyes before taking up the puppet and lantern.

She
crept down the hall and to the staircase that would lead her to the third
floor–frequented rarely by anyone except Olivia and herself. The house grew
darker as she ascended and started down the third floor hallway, knowing that
much of this top story was storage space containing God–knows–what, and Anne
was continually shocked that Olivia had no problems with having her room in the
attic. Anne wasn’t sure if she could bear the placement if she had been in Olivia’s
place.

Standing
outside the door, she could still hear the faint scratching, doubtlessly coming
from inside.

“Olivia?”

Anne
gave the call as a warning, but she received no response. She pushed her key
into the lock, turned it–and the scraping sounds ceased.

The
door spread open without noise, letting Anne into the room. The space was
restricted and cramped, filled to the brim with toys. Dolls, books, puzzles,
games; it was a child’s Wonderland. There were still broken dolls on the floor
from Olivia’s outburst earlier that night–after Anne had removed the dangerous
shards–but it did appear that a few of them had been picked up. On the far side
of the room, Olivia had been building a small fort made of books, but as for
the girl herself…

Anne
moved farther into the room, spreading the orange light. She set the jester
puppet down on the bed, glad to be rid of it. The mattress was disturbed,
sheets bunched together, but it was quite obvious that dear Olivia was not
inside.

Instead
of Anne’s first instinct being to worry, her initial reaction was to annoyance.
Where had the girl gone? Didn’t she know that this was no time for games? If
anyone found her out of her room at night–especially
this
night–Anne
would be in serious trouble.
That
was the thought that caused the nurse
to worry. Where this job and family were concerned, there was no room for
mistakes.

It
was important to find the girl now–hopefully she was not attempting to play
hide–and–seek–but at the same time, Anne couldn’t help but wonder how Olivia
had gotten out in the first place. Hadn’t the door been locked?

Anne
left the room and locked it behind her out of habit.

Anne
roved down the second floor halls, listening as she and her light moved past
dark doorways. There was silence, as it appeared everyone was sleeping, but as
she moved closer to a few of the doors, a bit of sound from within reached her
ears.

There
was a bit of bumping around behind Euan’s ever–locked door. She could hear the
thud of his cane. The man was probably working. Outside the guestroom holding
Bradley and Evelyn Ellington, Anne heard some sounds that she wasn’t interested
in hearing, involving quite a bit of heavy breathing and a squeaking mattress.
The nurse hurried away promptly.

There
were children giggling behind one door, but after looking inside, she simply
told them sweetly to go sleep. Olivia was not there with them.

Todd’s
room was silent.

Anne
moved toward the stairs that would lead her to the first floor. When Olivia was
not locked in her room, her favorite place was the parlor. Tonight though, Anne
wouldn’t have been surprised to find her in the hall beside the tree. She only
prayed that the girl had not ventured to another of her favorite places:
outside
.
The freezing temperatures would not be good for either of them to endure. Anne
entertained this idea, but quickly scolded herself for that last thought.
Olivia was a bit oblivious, but she was not stupid. She would not have left the
house.

The
bottom floor was fairly open, consisting of the hall, kitchen, dining room,
parlor, music room, and a few bedrooms that housed the maids and menservants.
When she’d reached the ground floor, like the rest of the house, it was quiet.
Anne treaded further down the hallway and toward the kitchen beside the dining
room, which opened into the hall with the large tree.

“
Olivia,
”
she called out in a loud whisper, quite annoyed by now. How much longer would
this go on? The only noises she could hear were the soft padding of her own
footsteps and the steady tick of the large grandfather clock in the hall–

A
bump in the nearby kitchen made her heart leap.

She
froze, stock–still, waiting for her heart to slow before she could register the
sound. Something had fallen, perhaps, hitting against the tile. But why, if it
was not being disturbed? Anne held her breath as she pushed the door open a
small crack, peering in.

Olivia?

There
was darkness within the kitchen. Anne pushed the door open wider and stepped
inside. Everything had been cleaned up from the meal, but Anne knew that
tomorrow the cooks would be starting again, bright and early to make breakfast
and then an even larger dinner. In fact, perhaps the noise she’d heard was one
of the cooks who had forgotten something.

But,
in the dark?

She
peered around with her lantern, took a few steps forward. Dark, shadowy
movement across the floor grabbed her attention.

Panicked,
she jumped back, looking across the tile, seeing the shadows, but was unable to
focus on them as they skittered off to hide within larger shadows. A tiny squeak
reached her ears. She felt something on her foot.

Oh
God…

Before
she could react, there was a harsh pinch as tiny incisors clamped onto her
ankle, piercing her flesh to summon warm blood. Anne shrieked in pain and
frustration, kicking off the rodent that had attacked her.

Mice!
The answer was
clear. Dozens of them! Anne hadn’t the slightest idea that there were so many
in this large house. If she had, she wasn’t sure if she could have stayed
around for so long, despite the prospects.

The
nurse was very angry now. Her ankle was bleeding and throbbing, there was a
whole
kingdom
of mice in this house, and Olivia was still missing. Anne
shook her head, angry and frustrated. She gave up. Wherever Olivia had gone,
she would most certainly be right back where she belonged by the morning. There
were new friends to be made in those presents under the tree. Olivia would not
miss out on that.

The
mice had all darted out of sight now, but Mrs. Ellington would be furious if
they left messes in the kitchen. Anne knew how to solve this problem.