by Lani Lenore
Misfortune was truly her keeper tonight. Just as she rounded the bend, she heard a door close.
Dammit!
Anne stopped there at the corner, nearly out of breath, staring down the enormous and dark hallway. The men were gone, and everything had grown silent. She stomped her foot lightly in desperation, a tantrum meant for a child. The dim, flickering light from the wall lamps made the corridor dance. There were many doors. How was she to know which they’d gone behind! Further than that, how could she have gotten into one of those rooms to check? It was not as if she could turn the knob.
She took a deep breath and stared. What was there to do now? She’d have to give up on those voices. It was likely nothing anyway–just her paranoid imagination changing into its adult form. Closing her eyes, Anne attempted to get back on track.
Euan’s room, she thought.
Yes, she wasn’t too far away. She might not be able to get through the door, but she might as well give it a look.
Anne took steps around the bend, first giving the cat’s eye a little scratch to give her a dim light in the darkened hall. It seemed quiet here, but too much of a glow would surely alert anything that might have been awaiting her ahead.
I must not get killed before I get myself out of this, she told herself. That was her top priority.
Then, a sound reached her, faint at first but growing steadily behind her. She jerked her head soundlessly but could see nothing. Still, she knew something was there, and she would be foolish not to assume it was danger.
Her eyes darted around, frantically searching for somewhere to hide. The doors of the hallway were all closed. The look was almost dizzying to her. But at the end of that hallway, though she couldn’t see it through the dark, there was the stairway and a window…
And the window is lined with thick drapes that touch the floor.
It would be a wonderful place to hide–but could she get there in time?
Taking a deep breath, Anne ran as fast as she could toward the end of the hallway. She was thankful that her boots had no hard soles, for the sound of her running surely would have alerted whoever was behind her.
As she moved, she didn’t think she would reach those drapes before whatever was coming rounded the corner. She could only pray that the darkness would shield her.
The blonde woman pretended not to hear the movement down the corridor behind her, and she did not turn to look.
4
A bloodied pink nose sniffled at the stale air of the hallway, and though the blood was likely hindering his nostrils, he didn’t quite have time to stop and bathe. Sllevk was on a mission.
He’d instructed other mice on what to do in order to get themselves into their enemy’s stronghold, and he’d made it his personal business to find the missing girl.
Sllevk stood on his hind legs, trying to sniff as well as he could. The mouse was sure he’d caught a whiff of a human, but he seemed to have lost it. He glanced around. Was that a shape heading off into the dark? No…just his eyes playing tricks. His eyes were good in the dark, but only for a short distance ahead of him. Beyond that, all was black.
The small mouse moved forward. He stopped, listened. Again, he moved forward across the hallway and stopped. There was nothing. No sound, no smells. Perhaps he needed to wash his nose after all. The mouse nearly turned around, but then stopped once again.
Was that a sway in the curtains at the end of the hall? It was. A clever little shrew, yes? She thought she could trick him. Alas, she had not accounted for his superb deduction skills.
He threw his feet down, moving rapidly along the hallway. The plush drapes at the end were not difficult to reach. The mouse steadied himself, examining the ruffles as his feet padded alongside them.
He smelled something there. Yes, it was familiar. Yes! It was her! He gripped the drape to dash beneath it. But wait…there was another smell. It was quite different from the woman he’d been instructed to find. In fact, it was all wrong.
Completely wrong.
Sllevk stood before the curtain, affixed. He considered.
5
There was thick dark within the folds of the drapes–much darker than the hallway itself. Anne had finally put herself there, stifling her labored breathing and leaning against the wall to rest. She found it quite pleasant here–if only the worry of whether or not she’d been seen wasn’t on her mind.
What could be after her? And what was truly more horrifying? A mouse or another one of those insane toys? She’d seen the mice that Armand had killed, but she’d not had any association with them. Quite honestly, she didn’t want to.
There’s something out there.
She felt the presence, just as she’d felt the mouse creeping behind her in the shafts. She imagined a mouse–or even worse, the jester toy–creeping up to the edge of the curtain just in front of her face, carrying a ridiculously large pair of scissors. They would creak as they blades opened–and the curtain as well as her head would be snipped before she could do anything to stop it.
Anne cringed and suddenly felt she should get as low to the floor as she could, but she wouldn’t be able to run if the need arose. She’d put the cat’s eye on the ground until it had gone out, but perhaps that light had been seen already?
She paused in her thoughts to listen once again. There was a slow and steady breath emitting from somewhere. It was nearby? If she heard it, she assumed that it was. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose.
Scissors…
Somehow though, the sensation arose that there was nothing there at all. It was just a boogeyman. She didn’t want to look. She didn’t know when it would be safe to look. Anne still heard the breathing sounds. Had she been found? Should she try to run, breaking off down the open hallway despite what might have been there? She didn’t know where she would go after that. She clutched the needle tighter.
The airy sound continued to infest her ears until she wanted to make her own noise just so that she wouldn’t hear it. It wasn’t long after that thought when Anne realized that the sound was coming from within the curtain with her.
It’s not possible!
In her mind, she began to panic. What could be done to remedy this? Close her eyes and hope the stalker went away? No, she had been doing too much of that! She had the needle. She needed to stand up for herself! And yet somehow, she couldn’t move.
Her head tilted slowly in the dark, looking down the gauntlet of folds within the drape. There seemed to be nothing, but she couldn’t ignore the breathing that had suddenly become choked, hitching at regular intervals. Sobs?
There was a light sniffle, and finally Anne understood. Her eyes lowered straight down to her side, dropping slowly until she saw it.
The first things she focused on were the tiny shoes buckled across white feet. She followed the feet upward to a large ruffled skirt that she couldn’t tell the color of in the darkness. At waist–level, she found the face, a pale and ghostly white that peered up at her with large, glass eyes. A mass of blonde curls sat atop that head. The breathing–this crying–was indeed emitting from this tiny girl.
Olivia? Anne thought for a moment after a shudder ran out through her fingers. But no, it couldn’t have been Olivia. This girl was much too young, and Anne realized suddenly that she was a doll.
The child doll gripped Anne’s hand that held the needle downward. The porcelain was as cold as death.
“I’m lost,” she choked in a whisper. “Could you please help me?”
Gripped by both shock and relief, Anne found she could say nothing. But perhaps, once again, there was no decision to be made.
6
Through the midst of them, he walked, and they all moved out of his way as he passed. They eyed him suspiciously. Whispered. They didn’t like him–loathed him–and yet they feared him. How had he–something so new; something not even a toy–gained the absolute favor of the Lady so swiftly? They despised him for it.
The others didn’t approve of his make.
His clothes weren’t that of the soldier he claimed to be, yet they were not common. His hair was too soft and healthy. His face was too accurate. Wholly, he was much too attractive. The toys hated him. And the nutcracker didn’t care at all.
He was not interested in them, only needing them to remain orderly for his cause. For this same reason, he returned to visit the girl. She was quite taken with him, and if he stayed away too long she would surely get heartsick. The result would be greater chaos than was already offending his eyes.
He needed this war to continue. He would play her game.
When he stepped into the great hall of the palace that was as decadent as toys could make it, the Lady Sovereign had to collect every ounce of her royal demeanor to keep from running to him. She did, however, stand up before the throne quickly. He could nearly hear her heart speeding faster.
The nutcracker stooped to one knee out of respect. She had cared for him enough to have the toymaker fix his leg, and for that, he supposed he should be grateful. For that, he’d cleaned away the blood and rodent flesh that had stained him. She didn’t need to see.
The girl was a pretty thing, though quite young and even less matured in her mind. She was a child still and couldn’t offer him much. Neither did he have much to offer her. Any toy would give up their dignity just to have the Lady look at them so lovingly. They would disrupt their very lives just to hold her close and feel her true life that they would never know anything of. But he was not like them. Hair of the lightest blonde, eyes like water, a degree of innocence he’d certainly never have again… It was sweet.
And he could hardly bear to look at her.
“Armand,” she addressed him with a smile. “You came back.”
He could tell by her voice that she was very engrossed in this role she played. He didn’t so much like his character, but he would go on with this show just the same.
“I knew you’d be worried if I didn’t,” he said, but still couldn’t manage to force a smile on his nicely–carved lips.
The Lady touched his shoulder and he rose, towering over her. She didn’t seem to mind.
When he’d first met her, she’d been wrapped in a blue and white dress with a large bow restraining her hair. Now she was in a red gown that dragged the floor in all directions about an inch in span. There was an enormous red hat on her head with a feather in it, and he wondered if it was a strain to hold up with her delicate neck. The Lady seemed not to be having much trouble.
“Did you find out anything?” she inquired, her hands clasping gently before her.
Of course she would ask this of him, but did she truly care or understand why? No. He expected her to say certain things, and that was the first. He would answer and then she would say that he must be so very tired from his trek. Wouldn’t he like to stay here and rest? He could imagine her words now.
‘We can go off together, and you can tell me of all the things that you’ve seen. And do hold me and tell me you love me while you’re talking to me about fantastic things, Armand. And after that, kiss me. Then gather me into your arms and make me fully yours.’
The nutcracker could nearly read all of that in her eyes. She was stuck somewhere between being a child and a woman, but he knew this was what she wanted. These things were her only desires. Before he rejected her, he would answer the first question.
“I haven’t much to report,” he said, not surprised that his voice was just as emotionless when addressing her as it was with anyone else. “The passages around the area are clear, and I still haven’t located an entrance to the rodent’s lair.”
“I am just glad that you are safe,” she admitted, and thus proved that she hadn’t been paying much attention. She’d been preparing her line. Finding the enemy grounds meant very little to her.
Perhaps she expected him to respond to her, but he did not. After a moment of silence, during which the other toys in the room pretended not to look on at them, she spoke again.
“After such a journey, you must need rest.”
She undoubtedly didn’t expect him to say no, but he could allow himself no other answer. Perhaps he was tempted. Perhaps a voice in the back of his mind told him that she could give him peace. But the rest of him was much too smart to fall for that lie.
“I am sorry, my Lady,” he told her. “But I must decline.”
The girl looked at him oddly, but he went on to explain before letting her interrupt.
“The war is only now escalating. You need eyes and ears everywhere, and so few are as skilled as I. Forgive me, but there is no time for rest. I should go again,” he told her, bowing once more and adding for good measure: “If it pleases your majesty.”
Once more, he could nearly read her mind. She was disappointed at his words, but she was the ruler. The girl understood that she needed to be responsible. There was a sickness in her stomach, nervous for him going off without her. But then she remembered that he would be back. She remembered that she’d wanted him to go to war. He was only trying to protect her and be worthy of her. She would tell him–
“You should go then,” she bade. “You’re very right that this is no time for celebration.”
He rose up once again and gave a brief nod in appreciation for her understanding. Then he turned without another word and strode away.
If he’d had any of that conscience he’d claimed not to have, he might have wondered if he was doing a horrific thing by denying this girl true love. Was there any other reason for a toy to live than to be loved? What, after all, was there more to life?
Revenge, he would have answered himself. Only justice will bring peace.
He did not wonder. The nutcracker’s mind was blank as he walked out of the book palace, ignoring all those who looked at him with admiring and loathing eyes. He was not like them.
Chapter Eleven: Chimera’s Lullaby
1
The grate was closed, and it was much too heavy for Anne to move. This was the place Armand had let her out of the warm dark of the shafts, and by those passages was the only way she knew how to get back into the Lady’s–Olivia’s–room.
Behind her, the child doll watched quietly.
The former nanny actually had no idea how she would help this child doll become un–lost, but the hallway was clear of whatever had been after her beforehand, and at least she had room to think.
“I’m very sorry for all this, miss,” she heard the girl say quietly. “I do hope it isn’t too much trouble…”
Anne turned to look down on the pretty doll that stood as tall as her waist. She was designed to be around the age of eight, Anne would guess. Even though the girl’s eyes were made of glass that presented strikingly blue irises, the woman could see the fear and concern in them.
Anne didn’t much like children anymore–not after Olivia–but she still had her instincts and her conscience. She was appalled by the way she’d been treated by the other toys from the start, nearly spit on by them! It would not do for her to treat one of them that way for no discernable reason.
“Oh no, it’s quite alright,” Anne said with a pleasant smile. “I know what it feels like. I’m a bit lost myself and I’m sure it will make us both feel better if we stick together.”
There. She’d said it. When the girl smiled up at her graciously, Anne almost thought she’d meant it.
She gave her attention to the dim hallway then, looking around for somewhere to go. She didn’t know what was lurking there–and that was a troubling thought–but Anne knew she couldn’t remain in the same spot either.
Her eyes came to rest on the stairs that led to the third floor–stairs that she’d conquered many times in her stay in this house. They did in fact lead to the domain where they wished to find sanctuary, but the only issue was whether or not they could actually get into Olivia’s room that way. The toys weren’t especially keen on using doors.
“Aren’t we supposed to go up?” the girl’s voice piped up. Anne found the doll looking straight up at her.
There was a pause after her question, as if the doll hadn’t heard her, but when Anne looked down and met the girl’s shining eyes, she answered.
“I was a little too curious,” she admitted with a nervous giggle. “I knew I wasn’t supposed to, but I was following a group of soldiers. I wanted to see them march off. I’d gone too far before I realized it.”
Anne nodded in understanding. She could see how that would happen to a child. Maybe she had once been that way when she was young, but she’d since learned her lesson. Anne didn’t go sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. Not until she’d found this strange world, that was.
The stairs were steep and looming before them, a tower of impossibility. For a moment, Anne only stared. The girl beside her hunkered close, clenched her arm.
“Do you think we can get up there?”
To that, Anne wasn’t sure what to say. It would be difficult, but what other choice was there other than lingering around and getting attacked?
She felt a cold grip on her hand as the girl’s hard skin grasped it.
“We might as well try then, Anne, hm?”
The woman’s uncertain grey eyes drifted down to the pure–skinned doll. The child smiled back at her warmly. What was that in her eyes? Was that trust? If Anne were any more spoiled or tactless, she might have groaned aloud instead of inwardly. She hadn’t asked for this responsibility. As it was, she could hardly take care of herself!
But there was something else as well. Slowly, her brow furrowed as she realized it. In the swiftness of it all, Anne had not even asked the girl’s name. Further on, she also noticed that she’d not told the girl hers.
“What’s the matter?” the girl asked in her pretty English voice.
“Pardon me, but I’m so forgetful,” Anne said. “What was your name again?”
The girl looked at her strangely a moment, then smiled a perfect doll–smile.
