The Nutcracker Bleeds (6 page)

She
wiped up the blood droplets that had run onto the floor, tying a cloth around
her wound and hoping that the rodent hadn’t been diseased. She would need to
clean the gash immediately, but first Anne turned toward the parlor where the
Duchess was napping.

Duchess
was a beautiful, large calico with striking green eyes. The feline chased mice
on occasion, but was much more interested in sleep, which she made quite
apparent to Anne when the young woman scooped her off the settee.

“
Meowww
,”
the cat said in an annoyed tone, but Anne ignored it.

“We
all have our jobs here,” she said harshly.  “You need to do yours.”

She
dropped Duchess into the kitchen, closed the door and headed back toward her
room.

What
a night,
she
thought unhappily.
Yes, Merry Christmas.

Anne
made it to the top of the second floor stairs before the dizziness set in.

The
hallway began to tells, and she felt unsteady, but she could not say what the
matter was. It was just a little blood. She had not been so squeamish when
Olivia had been bitten. Somehow, however, she was not able to regain herself.

She
staggered around a bit, tripping over her own feet as her vision began to
slide, refusing to focus. Anne managed to place the lantern on a side table,
then leaned against it to steady herself. What was the source of this? Was it
the pain from the mouse bite? Her headache over Olivia? Or worse: could she
have been sick?

Like
Mrs. Ellington…

Anne
took a few breaths, trying to make herself sturdy, but the effort didn’t help.
Sweat was beading on her brow, and she could hardly hold her eyes open. The
woman wisely lowered herself to the floor, anticipating a fall. She was right,
for it was only a few short moments before Anne lost consciousness against the
cold, wooden boards.

2

Anne
rested unconscious in the hallway, undisturbed.

On
the first floor, Duchess clamped her jaws around a mouse, squirting blood
across the white tile. The grandfather clock’s bell resounded, proclaiming the
hour, but all within earshot were so accustomed to the chimes that they didn’t
even notice them at all.

For
the twelve rounds of midnight, all was still.

1

Anne
would say that the clock’s chime was what awoke her, for it was so loud to her
ears that she would swear she was inside the workings of the mechanism itself.
She was cold. It was dark, and her headache remained. Slowly, she pulled
herself off the floor, standing up and trying to remember what had happened
before she’d given up consciousness.

She’d
heard a noise upstairs–had been looking for Olivia.

Anne
peered through the dark, but her eyes were too stubborn to let her focus on
anything around her. She couldn’t even tell which room she was in now, nor
could she remember where she had fallen. She was so very cold…

She
rubbed her arms briefly, trying to generate heat, but stopped soon afterward.
Her fingers had detected skin where sleeves should have been. Her stomach was
bare. She could feel the warmth of her thighs touching together.

What?

She was
sure that she hadn’t been naked when she’d fainted, but her own touch had
revealed the situation. A wave of panic rushed across her as she tried to
recall what had happened, but only managed to hug her own body tighter, perhaps
trying to shield herself from her own confusion.

Four
walls surrounded her, and she cautiously reached out to run her hand across
one, the rough texture surprising her fingertips. These walls were thin,
dark
.
Looking up, she could see that the walls weren’t very high, and also, they had
no roof. Up above the walls–far above–she could see a ceiling. The view seemed
distorted to Anne. Staring upward made her completely dizzy, but there was a
flicker of firelight beyond the top of the walls, and that meant that if Anne
could get a look, she would be able to better understand her situation.

Anne
was not fanciful, but many outlandish thoughts began to fill her head against
her will. Perhaps she had been abducted? Cautiously, she moved toward one of
the room’s corners, hoping to pull herself up from there, but she’d only taken
a few steps before tripping over something that was bunched on the floor.

Struggling
against the darkness, she managed to see what she’d found.

Clothes–terribly–made
ones. A small dress that she would guess was a grey–green–near celadon–and was
decorated with tiny, simple twists of ivy. There were lace ridges sewn around
the collar, sleeves, and hem with the largest thread Anne had ever seen.

She
noticed that the dress was much too short for a proper lady to wear, seeing
that it ran from the neck with long sleeves to stop just above the knees. Anne
was surprised, but she was not a shy girl, and supposed that she couldn’t be
very picky at the present time. Wearing this dress was better than being naked.
She hastily pulled it on. The coarse material scratched her skin and it was
somewhat snug, but she would accept it for now.

The
clothing made her feel somewhat better about her present situation, and she
headed once again to the corner.

Now
to get out of here.

It
took quite a bit of effort, but Anne managed to pull herself over the wall,
using her feet to push against the corner. When she’d reached the top, she
hardly got the chance to peer out before she registered that she was falling.
The wall was collapsing beneath her weight, and once she’d jumped off, safely
back inside, she realized that the entire
room
was tilting.

Anne
fell over onto the wall that was slowly becoming the floor, wincing when she
hit.
What on earth?
She was still a few moments, unhurt but cautious,
after everything was still and she was certain that she was on firm ground, she
crawled out slowly, observing the vessel of her captivity

A
box,
she thought, somehow decently calm.
It was like a huge box
.

She
found herself out on a ledge. The ground was level and made of wood, and below
that cliff she saw something that stole her breath away, putting her situation
into perspective, but it made no sense at all.

Peering
over the edge but not daring to stand up, Anne looked over a strange valley.
The valley looked exactly like Olivia’s room.

The
bed was there in the distance that shouldn’t have seemed so great. Far below,
Anne saw all the broken toys, but there was something even stranger about that
view: the toys were
moving.

There
were tiny dots of light below as small, dark shapes retrieved the broken pieces
of the dolls and dragged them into the shadows beneath the bed skirt. She could
hear the scraping sounds as shards of porcelain scratched the floor. Anne’s
eyes drifted to the far side of the room and rested on the fort of books she’d
seen there earlier. There was a great amount of light coming from within it.
These things compounded her bafflement.

Based
on everything she could see, she finally knew where she was. She was atop the
bureau that stood beside the door in Olivia’s room–and she was the size of a
doll.

“What
the devil is going on?” she uttered lowly.

A
dream
,
her mind answered back.
This must be some deranged nightmare. Just wake up.

The
thought came easily enough, but the action proved to be quite difficult. Anne
closed her eyes and reopened them. She pinched herself. She shook her head
ferociously until she was dizzy. Nothing roused her. Anne supposed that, for
now, she was stuck in this distortion.

“Identify
yourself!”

The
woman’s attention jerked toward the voice that had surprised her, but all she
could see across the span of the dresser–top was darkness.

Identify
myself?
She had to be honest: at that moment, she wasn’t sure she even knew. Aside from
that, who wanted to know?

A
small spark produced a flame that illuminated a pair of figures to her left.
Anne looked over them a moment, partially shielding her eyes from the sudden
light. The men who stood watching her were very still, and after a moment of
observing them, her mind became convinced that they weren’t even real.

Ignore
them, Anne
,
she told herself.
This is a dream. If you walk away, they can’t see you.

Anne
was always good about following her own advice. She turned away from the light
and started off–though where she was going, she had no idea.

“You
there! Halt!”

She
ignored the command.

“
Halt
!”

She
heard the hurried footsteps behind her but didn’t turn to look.

They’ll
disappear. Nothing’s after me. I’m not even here right now.

Anne
felt hands tighten around her arms, pulling her back. She resisted, jerking her
arms away, knowing there would be no consequences. Who were these men? They
weren’t the police, were they? Scotland Yard?

One
of those hands gripped her shoulder roughly, and she was forced to look back
into a face that widened her eyes and made her lose her breath.

She
couldn’t say that it was a familiar face, but she
did
recognize it. The
face was round and smooth with small, beady eyes. There was slick, black hair
beneath a tall, dark hat that had a strap beneath the chin. Rosy cheeks… Thin
mouth…

The
face was made of
wood
.

For
a few moments, Anne simply stared into that face with surprise, but when the
small, painted mouth that rested between the rosy cheeks opened and declared
quite profoundly: “You’re not a toy…”

Anne
screamed like she never had before.

She
struggled against the wooden hands that tried to restrain her, heard the words
from their mouths that they shouldn’t have been able to utter–though she didn’t
comprehend them. Instincts took over in her fear, and she fought with all her
strength, but still didn’t manage to knock either soldier back very
efficiently.

A
rough slap to her face with the force of a blunt object made her lose her
balance and slide to the floor.

They
shoved weapons at her face–wooden guns with sharpened stakes at the end–before
she even registered that they were there, but when she finally saw them, she
forced herself to be calm. Anne knew she wasn’t going to get away from these
dream soldiers. They were destined to capture her.

“Calm
down, trespasser,” one said with an annoyed tone, holding his weapon toward her
while the other advanced, carrying what appeared to be a large rubber band.

The
soldier pushed Anne over harshly, shoving her face against the ground while the
other came forward and bound her with the giant band. It was wrapped around and
around her body, holding her arms down and her legs together. It shouldn’t have
been so strong, but inside it, she couldn’t move at all. The panic of her
confinement began to set in, and she whimpered pitifully.

“We
take her to the Lady, then?” asked one of the patrolmen when they’d harnessed
her sufficiently.

The
other nodded. Anne heard the creak of his neck.

“Yes,
the Lady Sovereign will know what to do with her.”

One
of those toy soldiers–the like of which she had once gathered up when they were
lifeless on Olivia’s floor–pulled her up hastily by her bonds, dragging her
away across the dresser–top. The other soldier marched stiff–legged behind her,
and she observed that what she’d originally thought was a torch in his hand was
actually a match.

Anne
didn’t make another sound–no cries of frustration or nervous inquiries. She
simply allowed herself to be pulled, trying to find some rational explanation.
She’d always prided herself in her sanity–
before
.

“I
have an unidentified captive here!” she heard the toy solider call out behind
her head. She had no idea of whom he was speaking to, and couldn’t get a
glimpse. For a moment, he stopped dragging her across the slick surface.

Then
she was falling.

She
hardly had time to scream before she hit against something soft that gave
slightly beneath her weight. Once again, her bonds were gripped and she was jerked
off the soft surface and onto the harder wooden floor. The impact jarred her
hip.

As
she was dragged away, she saw what had happened. She’d been thrown from the top
of the dresser. It was only for an unfinished cross–stitch in its round frame
that she hadn’t splattered on the floor. Several toy soldiers manned the
cross–stitch parachute that had caught her, and Anne realized that the
needlework was her own.

Angry
thoughts about the creation getting ruined crossed her mind, but she didn’t
voice any of them.

Because
none of this is happening
, she told herself.
No, it’s just a dream.

2

The
soldier dragged Anne across the ground floor, and she knew that at any moment
she would wake up. While she waited, she observed the oddities around her.

There
were several toy soldiers patrolling various spots around the perimeter of the
room. There appeared to be several different sets; some with red suits and
tall, fuzzy hats, others with blue suits and short, flat–topped hats. Each one
of them marched stiff–legged with a gun slung over its shoulder–a weapon that
was useless if not for the stakes on the ends.

Turning
her head, she watched dark–colored dolls without faces and carrying lit matches
clean up the mess of broken dolls on the floor. They were completely silent in
their work, save for when they dragged bits of porcelain across the floor,
scratching
.
It was a peculiar and terrible service, and even though these were only toys,
Anne was disturbed by the sight of it.

The
trek across the room was long because of the soldiers’ tiny legs. It seemed to
take hours to pass the bed, and beneath the skirt, Anne could see the remains
of dead toys peeking out at her. She looked away.

Eventually,
they halted once again.

“I
have a prisoner to bring before the Lady Sovereign.”

Anne
attempted to tilt her blond head to view the one whom the soldier was
addressing, but all she found out for certain was that she was nearing greater
light, parked in front of the fort of books that was actually frighteningly
large. At the top, a clock had been placed. She couldn’t read the time. Before
she was ready, she was being dragged once again.

She
was pulled into the fort. The walls were enormous paintings, done by Olivia
herself, ranging from animals to landscapes, to portraits of her dolls. She was
not very talented. There was a red ribbon pinned to the floor through the
center of the keep. As she passed, wooden, porcelain, and cloth faces watched
her.

She
was dragged into a separate chamber. The soldier stood her up, and she was free
to look around the room. Within the throne room, there were sprigs from plastic
plants lining the walls in front of the paintings. Toy soldiers stood at
attention in front of the throne. In an open area to the side, a ballerina doll
was dancing endlessly. A bulky, stuffed bear that was nearly twice Anne’s size
loomed in the corner near a small chalkboard.