The Nutcracker Bleeds

by Lani Lenore

  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.

  Chapter Four: Hickory–Dickory–Dock

  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.

  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.