by Lani Lenore
“I have an idea burrowing inside my head like a hungry insect,” he told her, tapping a finger against his porcelain temple. “And that idea tells me that if you and I work together, we can both get what we want.”
The girl’s face lit up at the notion, but then fell again almost immediately.
“It’s not possible,” she said, looking down. “I could never betray my master.”
“That’s why you have to be clever.” He lifted her chin, tilting her face to look into his red eyes. “There doesn’t have to be any betrayal. You see, there is a way to work around your problem. I know a bit about what’s going on here, and if I understand correctly, there is more than one female that will keep down your master’s wrath.”
“Yes, that is true,” Clara considered. “But the Master of the toys is nearly impossible to get to. There are so many soldiers.”
“Don’t worry about them,” Edge said. “Things have turned out rather conveniently. Your girl is with the nutcracker now, and from that, this idea was hatched. I think that you’ll fill the void in it nicely.”
“You have a plan?” Clara pondered, putting a small hand to her chin. Then her eyes lit suddenly. “A plan to get that other girl so that I can have Anne for myself!”
“That’s right,” Edge said, smiling warmly as if proud of her deduction, “and it will suit my desires as well. I think I know what your furry, diseased friends have been up to in this house, and if I’m right, I have a very good plan indeed.”
The child smiled. Even though his eyes were telling her not to trust him, his words were too attractive to ignore.
“I will need to meet your master,” Edge told her. “I’ll pledge my loyalty and then things will get underway.”
The child nodded readily.
“Good girl. If it works properly, you will have the woman.” He paused, standing up. “As for me, I want that nutcracker.”
“Him?” Clara asked in disbelief. That nutcracker was an unclean thing! Did Edge not know?
“He’s exquisite.”
“But why would you want that demon?” she gasped. “You love him?”
Edge laughed aloud. The girl became quickly uncertain about him.
“No, no, child,” Edge laughed. “It’s not as serious as all that.”
The doll grinned widely with sharp, white teeth, and Clara wanted to back away from it. It was vicious. The sight of it scared her greatly.
“I just want his body–with my head on it.”
Chapter Thirteen: Bite Over Bark
1
“So,” Anne started, struggling to keep pace with Armand, “explain it once again?”
After they’d left the attic–Anne with her marble and Armand with his reclaimed needle–the nutcracker had told her what he’d found out from one of the mice he’d killed. She was surprised that he’d bothered to elaborate further, and what he’d told her was not what she’d expected. She tried to stay rational, but it was nearly too unbelievable. Her mind was having trouble with it. She’d been forced to ask again.
She wondered briefly if she’d made him angry by it, but he didn’t so much as sigh before conceding to her request–no matter how exasperating it might have been.
“It was a mouse’s bite that made you this way,” he said, walking on as the light of the cat’s eye led them. “An appointed rodent was to mark one of you–you or Olivia–however, it made a mistake and marked you both.”
“This has something to do with a curse,” Anne added from what she could understand. “A curse which is not at all the same sort of thing that has brought the toys to life?”
“Couldn’t be. No.”
He picked up the pace, rushing them along. Anne was struggling to keep up. Her mind however, was much busier than her legs moving aimlessly through the dark. Where were all these curses coming from? And what was the purpose of them? Honestly, she wasn’t even sure she believed, but for now, she would accept it. It was like Armand had said: if she had no other explanation, she shouldn’t dismiss even supernatural possibilities.
“And why is it that one of us was to be brought here?” she asked.
“I’m not sure about that,” he said as he walked, looking forward only–not at her. “All I know is that it’s because of him.”
There was a snarl in the nutcracker’s voice as he said it, but she’d expected him to hate the ‘him’ he was speaking of. That one was the enemy of all the toys; the villain in all this. Anne gave a short nod, walking beside Armand this time instead of behind or in front.
“The one you have called your enemy,” she acknowledged.
“The one that they call ‘the Master’,” he said, turning a corner. “To everyone else, he’s known as the Rat King.”
The woman wanted to laugh, but then shuddered instead.
“Sounds ominous.”
He didn’t so much as chuckle, but she knew he’d recognized her sarcasm.
“Indeed,” he said. “But his bite is far worse than his bark.”
They moved down through the walls of the house, passing through cobwebs that he removed from their path as if they were vines. She would have much rather been in the shafts again. That space was much larger and even cleaner than this. That thought reminded her of how dirty she was. Dust, mouse blood… She attempted to ignore it.
“Speaking of rats,” she piped up, perhaps just to ease her nerves. “I haven’t seen one yet. Only mice.”
“You don’t want to,” he assured her. He rounded a bend.
“They’re more vicious?” she asked, but then talked it out for herself. “Of course, I would imagine that they were. They are much bigger…”
“As a general rule, mice are smarter,” he interrupted so that she wouldn’t go on forever. “Lesser, but smarter. They accepted man’s language more readily–with a bit of alteration of course.”
“By that, you mean ‘magic’?”
“That’s right,” he answered quickly and then went on with his explanation. “Rats are very different. He did not see fit to make them as smart as he is. They are simply animals–savage beasts–but they understand his orders. They fear him and nothing else. The mice use the rats for whatever they deem necessary; for transportation or simply as attack dogs. There’s no calling them off or reasoning with them.”
Anne shivered. Why did he always have to say the most terrifying things? She hated him for that, but at the same time was glad that he kept her aware of how dangerous this world was.
“Tell me about this magic,” she picked up quickly before he’d changed his mind about talking. “Where did it come from?”
“A dark age. It doesn’t exist anymore in your world.”
“Only in this one?” the woman inquired, watching his face.
“Only because it created this one.”
She fell silent a moment, considering. His answer was vague, but she’d take it as a ‘yes’. But if in fact the magic could only exist in this world she was a visitor in, however did it affect her enough to bring her here? And what did they want with her…or Olivia? Then again, if she didn’t have to know, maybe she didn’t want to.
But there were still so many questions remaining–like why was this nutcracker so obviously different from the rest?
“How do you know so much?” she ventured, nearly running to keep up with him now.
“I told you that I heard it from one of the mice.”
“But you knew of the curse before. How could you be aware of it if the others are not?”
He was silent a moment, moving on quickly. He had to stay with her now as he’d vowed, but was he trying to pass the sound of her voice? Rush her along so fast that she couldn’t think? It wouldn’t work.
“I’m sure they aren’t all entirely unaware,” he said.
“Yes, but–”
“You ask too many questions,” he said finally.
There was that finality in his voice. She’d heard it before. He’d beaten her.
No; not this time.
>
“You dodge too much,” she managed to accuse, taken aback. “What is there to hide?”
“Things you simply don’t need to know.”
Pushing herself, she moved ahead of him and swung into his path, putting a hand to his chest in order to stop him. The nutcracker could have plowed her down, but he halted instead, tolerating her. He said nothing about the interruption of his tempo. She sighed, attempting to put herself at ease.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” she said. “Apparently, we’ll be seeing very much of each other now, and I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot–again.”
He acknowledged her words quietly. She thought she could see it.
“Go on and keep your secrets. But I do need to ask you one more thing,” Anne said, peering up into his hollow eyes. “It’s important.”
He gave her the silence which she could use to speak, but she chewed her lip absently before asking. Actually, it had been on her mind for a while, and through their entire conversation, she’d wanted to give it a voice. Before their bickering went too far, she had to calm herself down with this. But did she want to know the answer? And was she ready to have it on her conscience if he gave her the wrong one?
“Is Olivia insane or have the rest of us simply been blind?”
He didn’t answer immediately, and in that, she felt the need to explain further.
“You said…about the toys…”
“No,” he interrupted. This time, his normally flat tone actually had a gentle sound. He’d calmed down as well. “There is something not right with the girl. She heard them speaking long before they ever spoke. I wasn’t around for that, but I gather it.”
Anne sighed in relief at that answer. She believed him and she didn’t even question why–maybe it was just what she wanted to believe to begin with. Olivia was insane, and Anne was not at fault.
Does that make you feel better, Anne? she imagined him saying. You’ve justified everything. When you’re done here, you can return straight back into that life.
I hate him.
“Anything else?” His voice brought her back to the spot, and with the registration of his words, she looked at him guiltily. Her lips pressed together and she didn’t look at his face.
“There is one more thing. Can I ask where we’re going?”
“I wondered when you’d get to that.”
She looked up to the words, but she could see by the tilt of his head that he didn’t mean it harshly.
Maybe he’s bearable…
“Apparently there are many more sides to things than there seem to be,” he told her. “They call Olivia the ruler of the toys, but she certainly does not rule them all. I have heard of another, who, according to rumor, lives within a armoire somewhere in this house. They call him the Shaman, and he has his own followers.”
“Shaman…” She’d heard that word somewhere before. In a story? A story of wizards and curses?
“Can this Shaman do magic?” she inquired, almost hopefully.
“No, there is nothing magical about this one,” he admitted knowingly. “He simply makes it his business to know everything. But we need to pay him a visit. I think he can tell me what I want to know.”
“And me?”
Surely he’d not forgotten about her own predicament–but, for a moment, he looked as though he had.
“My answers might help you as well. But any additional information will have a separate price.” Price? “That is where we’re going. And somewhere along the way I suppose we’ll have to find you something else to wear. They know who you are now.”
He turned to go, passing around her where she stood, unmoving. Her fingers reached her head. She was getting one of her headaches.
“Anne?”
Armand had stopped and turned back to her over his shoulder. Anne hadn’t even realized that she wasn’t moving behind him.
“Yes?”
“There’s something following us,” he said, pausing just a moment to let it sink in. A chill ran through her. “May we go before it catches up?”
She stared at him a moment, but could do nothing but nod. Something following them? He took her arm and turned her around easily, leading her off toward the way he wanted to go. Anne tried to glance behind her, but she could see nothing but darkness. She leaned into him as they moved, tripping over her feet and not watching the path. He simply pulled her forward lightly and quickened their pace.
“Faster,” he said.
2
Clara was a child; a child was what she was. She’d existed for years–decades–longer than the doll who called himself Edge–who’d insisted to her heatedly that he was, in fact, not a lady–but she had not even considered that he might have been playing her for a fool. She was eternally naïve because she was trapped in this role, and as they descended into the depth of the Ellington house, she’d not thought twice about telling him everything she knew.
She told him about herself and how she had come to be–how she had been deemed worthy by the Master enough to have his blessing. She told what she was allowed to tell about the past and present of her master, and how his greatest desire was to rule over a kingdom of mice and toys. Finally, she spoke of the nutcracker.
She explained with great distaste how the nutcracker had been stalking the Master for years, and even though the Master had created him, he was ungrateful. Her lord would not be happy to know that the wretched demon was in this house, working to ruin this endeavor after so much work.
After she’d spoken all and Edge had listened intently, smiling greater with every passing moment, he’d finally revealed his own ideas to her in their entirety. The girl was in awe.
She’d admit, she’d been quite shocked when Edge had spoken of his desire to strike down the nutcracker and mount his own head on that powerful body, but his full plan promised that not only would the nutcracker be eliminated eventually, the Lady Sovereign would be obtained, her kingdom would be fully conquered, and Anne would be left just for Clara.
Edge had insisted that it wasn’t a betrayal, though Clara wasn’t entirely sure about that. But if she wanted Anne to be with her, she would need to comply. She was a child. She needed companionship. She needed…
A mother. …Or something like that.
Her new friend had given her one rule to start: that she was not to tell her master about the nutcracker’s existence in the house. That order had made her most apprehensive, but Edge had calmed her easily with the assurance that the demon would be eliminated soon enough. There was no sense in worrying her master–and soon to be his own–over it.
Now, after they’d passed into the rodents’ domain–the stinking, filthy place where she felt safest–Edge had hidden himself until after she’d made her appearance, to absolve her of any involvement. It would be as if he’d simply followed her. That was their game. And she was very good at playing games.
She trotted in toward the large throne where her master sat, and without looking at him, she stepped into a deep curtsy.
“There’s my little princess,” a voice said fondly.
Clara raised her large, loving eyes toward her master. He was not pretty by any means–especially from a doll’s eyes–but she still had love for him.
The Master was enormous, even for a rat–the largest she’d ever seen. The teeth within his muzzle were from nightmares; his red gaze, like hellfire. Still, his robe was grand.
“I notice you have returned alone. Does that mean you were unsuccessful?”
As a small girl, her first instinct was to always make excuses to shift the blame elsewhere, but she knew that her master didn’t tolerate that. But today was easy. She’d discussed it all with Edge beforehand.
“The flesh woman was able to escape with the help of some soldiers. It appears she is in the Lady’s favor. All the mice were eliminated–including Sllevk.”
The Master’s gruesome face fell. This was terrible news that she was having to report about the agent being killed. Still, it
was far better than having to explain about the nutcracker.
“Sllevk will be sorely missed,” said the Master. All those around him felt that loss. “But do not worry, Clara. I know it was out of your hands–”
“Of course it was. She’s weak!”
A familiar voice. Clara turned along with the rest of them, pretending to look surprised to see the intruder in the mutilated, purple dress. Immediately, a circle of spear–wielding mice crowded around Edge. He didn’t seem worried, so Clara dashed off near the rim of the throne, feigning timidity in the shadows there.
The Master did not look pleased with such a bold interruption in his sanctuary. What was worse, the toy had the nerve to enter with a large blade strapped to its back.
“Remove the weapons,” the Master instructed without hesitation.
He could have ordered that the mice simply tear the doll to pieces, but he was actually quite interested as to why the pretty thing had thought it could simply enter into his domain as it pleased. Especially if it was one of the Lady’s.
The mice circled in to take the razor, and the doll remained perfectly still–as still as if it wasn’t living at all. Its pale face was hidden by the black hair, and everything was quiet. Clara watched with interest from the side where she’d moved from her master’s attention. She was careful to keep a baffled look upon her face as she watched in anticipation to see how Edge would handle this. He’d only told her it would be a grand show.
In a quick instant as the first mouse reached out to grasp the blade, Edge flung out his arms to both sides, opening wide.
“Take what you want,” he said with a sneer. “I mean no harm.”
The blade was removed from his back and the mice searched the rest of his body for armaments.
“Then you have come here to be harmed, misfit?”
The growling voice of the Master raised Edge’s head and he looked up into the red eyes of the Rat King. Veins were woven within those large eyes like silk threads. Edge thought they were attractive.
