by Lani Lenore
Then again, he already knew which would be victor, and by that time, he would have his full strength back. The Rat King grinned a sharp, toothy grin.
“Little did the snake know, that it was not ‘the end’, for the rat had known of his vile intentions all along. Snakes do have the tendency to swallow everything whole, and the rat needed only to chew his way out and reclaim the eggs for himself.”
“Master?” A doll near him heard his storytelling, lifting her head from his claws to peer up at him.
“Nothing, fräulein,” he insisted, but it was not nothing. The doll named Edge was a simple foe–so easy to dispose of. There was only one worth fighting, and if the nutcracker made it down to him, passing the obstacles that were laid in his path, he certainly deserved to have the battle he had been craving all these centuries. Sadly, he would not win.
“Soon,” Augustus said. “Soon, Armand.”
Chapter Twenty–Five: Retribution
1
Around a curve in the tunnel, a warm light was reaching out, promising safety. The three travelers approached the glow, but it was not safety they expected to find there. Instead, they were only made cautious.
Anne extinguished the green glow of the marble. Brooke and Armand drew their weapons. All personal thoughts were abolished with concerns for immediate safety as they crossed into the Lady’s territory. They were nearly back to Olivia’s room, and now they were going to meet with trouble. Perhaps it was only a patrolling soldier. But no; the light was too much for that.
They moved on through the dark that was slowly giving way to light. Plenteous dust danced about through the air ahead, and finally they came upon the spot.
There in the passage was a burning candle, nearly finished, sitting in a heap of wax. Around it sat several toys of different sorts, warming themselves before it like the homeless in the alleys of London. As if they needed the heat for any reason other than the fact that it was pleasant to them. They would certainly not die of hypothermia. To be warm and dry would not aid their health one way or another.
When the three companions came into the area, the toys lifted their assortment of different eyes to peer at them curiously, but none moved to protest. Armand put his sword away. Brooke, behind Anne and Armand, withdrew only one weapon.
“Who are you?” asked a long–eared rabbit doll in a dirty, flowered dress.
“Doesn’t matter,” said a distracted–looking rag doll with matted hair of yarn. “They’ll have to go elsewhere. There’s no room.”
Anne looked over the faces of the gathered toys, but said nothing, nor did she grow too bold. She stayed back behind Armand, as had become her habit, but the button eyes of the rabbit found her, locking on firmly.
“Wait a second,” she said. “You.”
The woman slunk back a bit more behind the nutcracker, but when she did, she saw that the stuffed creature was not looking at her, but behind her.
“You’re one of Pirlipat’s guardians, aren’t you?” the rabbit directed Brooke’s way. “Fine job you did.”
“Too late for that now,” scolded a glazed, wooden cardinal. Then the shiny critter looked up. It was missing an eye. “Hope you all aren’t on your way to the Lady Sovereign’s kingdom.”
“Like we were,” chimed in the rag doll.
There was a bit of murmuring amongst the toys then, and Anne greatly wanted to inquire further, though knowing it was completely against the rules to bring attention to herself. Luckily, Armand was also curious.
“What’s happened?” he asked, the accent of his voice very different from theirs.
“Rodents, that’s what,” said a worn, train engineer.
“Bet your life,” some hidden toy piped up.
Rodents? Anne thought. Oh no! Olivia! Nothing can happen to her! She looked at Armand anxiously, but he was expressionless.
“We were headed there from the Princess Pirlipat’s kingdom, and we’re lucky we didn’t go in,” the rabbit informed them. “Would have been caught up in all that chaos.”
“Not many got out, I hear,” said a stitched, white bear. “But a few. They said that the Sovereign was barricaded inside the palace surrounded by guards, and the rest of the toys were having to fend for themselves.”
“I heard that the mice were still in there but that the attacks had stopped,” said the rag doll. “Though that does lead one to wonder what they’re up to…”
Armand had heard enough, it seemed, but he didn’t step through the midst of the toys as Anne had expected. He turned back instead, ushering her forward from whence they came. This was terribly confusing to her. Armand knew how important Olivia was to her life! He’d even admitted that the girl reminded him of his daughter, and that her well–being was important to him. So, why were they not hastening to her rescue?
“We’re going back there, aren’t we?” Anne asked after they moved a short distance away.
He did not turn back to her. “No, it’s too dangerous now.”
In her surprise, she grabbed his arm, scratching her fingers on the metal. Her nerves hardly relayed the message to her brain.
“No?” she demanded. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
He faced her, not bothering to mask his agitation.
“You’ve so suddenly decided that Olivia’s life is more important than yours? I thought my decision might have made you happy.”
“Do not start this now!” she demanded lowly.
Anne put her hands to her face and wiped her anxiety away–as if that was all it took. Brooke watched. He saw Anne try to think of an alternative to this, knowing that she wasn’t going to win. He saw Armand standing by his decision firmly. They weren’t going to resolve this on their own? Brooke knew a way.
“I will go.”
The sound of his voice made both of them look toward him. What was that on their faces? Surprise? Concern? Admiration?
After his declaration had sunk in, Anne shook her head.
“No.”
“It would be best,” he tried to convince her. “There is something terrible coming for me, and I’d say you have a better chance of surviving if I’m gone. Besides, perhaps the soldiers will do some good if they do find me, and I’m skilled enough to protect the Lady against rodents, I assure you.”
That was not good enough for Anne. He truly didn’t understand at all. She didn’t expect that he would.
“What if I never see you again?”
This question caught Brooke off guard. In fact, it puzzled Armand as well. The nutcracker crossed his arms and looked on, eager to see how the soldier would respond to this fine display of humanity she was throwing forth. Could he counter it?
“The time will eventually come when you won’t see me again–not standing here like this,” Brooke said. “Either I will meet my end on my own, or if the magic no longer holds, I will be equally lifeless. Perhaps, better sooner than later?”
Anne lowered her head a bit, understanding that he was right. Armand was actually impressed with his handling of her. It was gentle, yet honest. He knew very little of that himself. When he tried to be kind, she didn’t allow it long. She tried his patience too much.
“Then go,” she bade. “Keep Olivia safe.”
2
Hearing Anne’s words, Brooke nodded his acceptance and turned, but he hadn’t taken a single step before she stopped him, touching his arm.
“I want you to know that, whatever happens, you’re not nothing,” she said, speaking hurriedly. “You made yourself something, even though you tried to resist it. If you were nothing, I would forget you. And I won’t. Ever.”
Whether or not it was wrong for either of them, Anne wrapped her arms around Brooke. It was a sincere goodbye, because somehow–either by his fall or her own–she knew she would not see him again.
Brooke was uncertain about her gesture, but he knew what it meant. He’d been hugged before, but he’d never counted it to mean anything, just as the princess that had hugged him never contemplated the de
pth of the action. This was different. In that moment, Brooke understood that even though he was just a toy, Anne believed his life had value. Even with her recent words, he hadn’t grasped it until now.
Brooke felt something in his head–behind his eyes. It was a heavy feeling. It burned. If he’d been like her, he would have known that he was crying, but there were no tears, and so he was completely unaware.
There was very little he could do to avoid his eventual fate, and so he only hugged her in return. Her emotion was even more perfect than her skin.
“Do be careful,” he said, withdrawing finally.
Brooke raised his eyes to see the empty gaze of the nutcracker. What was behind those eyes? Surely nothing. There was no emotion for Brooke’s departing. Armand had conformed to this world. He had let go of everything that he had felt once.
Looking at him, the soldier felt the need to speak, even though he was certain his words wouldn’t mean much.
“I want a hand in this,” Brooke said. “I’ll do my part.”
Armand didn’t respond, but that was fine. He didn’t have to. Brooke turned from them and walked toward the Lady Sovereign’s kingdom. Armand and Anne turned the opposite way, heading off into the unknown.
3
The woman and the nutcracker moved on without much to say to one another. Was it possible that they had said all there was to say? Armand had certainly made his point perfectly clear to her–that he did not have time to hear about her feelings or to embrace his own, if there were any. Anne’s eyes locked onto his back as he led her forward, watching his shoulders move, his hair…
I’m a fool, she thought. Why did I even tell him how I felt? And how can I possibly know? When I get large again, I’ll crush him with my shoe. Yes, that’s appropriate.
But–oh God–what if that happened? What if she was up there, and he was within her hand, looking back at her but never saying a word? And how much would it make her feel like laughing? Crying?
You’re just crazy is all, Anne old girl. Just a simple old loony. Couldn’t find a real man to love you, so you had to fall in love with a doll who doesn’t love you either. If you do escape the asylum, you’re destined to have a thousand cats–a thousand cats to love you and keep the mice away.
Anne did not want to have these thoughts. As wild as they were, they were still too realistic.
Is it possible that I confused hate with love? Care for disgust? Pity is the same thing as distaste?
Then:
I need him to help me. I need him to get me out of here.
But what you really need is for him to love you, her self chimed in.
“Just be quiet!”
Her words had been low, but Armand had heard them. He turned to look at her as she was trailing several steps behind. Her hands were in her damp hair, and when she saw him looking back at her, she froze.
You just told yourself to be quiet, she realized. Now not only do you know you’re insane, he knows, too.
When she looked closer, she saw that he wasn’t looking at her like she’d suspected. What should have been the very deadpan way that a human looked on at an ant, was instead a slight crease in his brow. Was that concern?
“Are you…?”
“I’m fine!” she snapped.
He wouldn’t win now. Not this time. She didn’t need to cry on his shoulder or be enveloped in his arms. Not any man’s ever again!
Anne’s face softened suddenly as she looked at him watching her. She wanted to go to him. I won’t. She wanted to think that he would embrace her. He won’t. Anne opened her mouth–opened it to say something important–but she’d forgotten what it was before it even passed her lips. She’d heard something. There were voices coming from the hallway.
Those men!
“You know, you never did tell me how you were going to cover this up,” she heard a distant voice whisper.
“You trust me, don’t you?”
Large shadows of human legs passed quietly by the vent, and without thinking twice, Anne turned to chase them. She’d only taken a few steps before there was a firm grip on her arm. The whispering voices became only murmurs as Armand turned her toward him.
“I have to follow them!” Anne protested frantically, struggling in his grip.
“No,” he said resolutely.
“You have to let me!”
“I said I would keep you safe, but if I am to do that, you can’t be running off like–”
“This is my real life!” she screamed, shattering his words and thoughts. “I don’t care about anything else!”
Silence found its place between them. His face had changed, and she spoke to him like she’d never dared to. Something in her face tried to tell him that she didn’t mean it, but he wasn’t seeing that subtle hint.
She realized she’d actually hurt his feelings. Even though he hadn’t retuned her affection, she had stabbed him in his beating heart by telling him she didn’t care. No; that was impossible. She could not possibly have hurt him, because he did not feel anything. Besides, he had hurt her as well. This was revenge. Surely he could understand that.
Somewhere in his empty eyes, she saw him relent.
Armand let her go, and for the sake of not losing to him, Anne hurried off without hesitation. She did not look back.
4
Anne rushed down the shaft corridor, passing vent after vent and not mapping her turns as she followed the men in the hallway. It wasn’t very long before she caught up with them, perhaps because of the curse, or perhaps just because they’d stopped.
She slammed into the bronze grate of a vent, and peering through the small holes, she looked up into the dimness and listened.
“Once more,” said one of the men, not whispering quite as lowly this time. “You are promising me that all this will go over without a hitch?”
“Absolutely, uncle.”
Uncle?
“Neither of us will be suspect?”
“’Too late to change our minds now’. Your words, I believe,” the other man’s voice said. She could tell now that this one was quite a bit younger than the other. “But this will all go over cleanly. I wouldn’t be involved in it if I wasn’t sure of that.”
“And Anne will be left out of this as well?”
These words shook Anne’s blood, chilling her deeply. What was she not to be involved in? Was it something about Olivia?
“Of course she will be left out!” the younger voice insisted heatedly. “It will seem natural.”
“Perhaps you should just take Olivia and go tonight. I’m not quite sure it would be right for her to be around for this.”
“I can’t leave on Christmas. That would upset her as well as be suspicious. I have to wait until this blows over. And you had better keep your end of this deal. I’m doing everything else. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut and act like a mournful widower.”
Widower… Widower! At that, Anne realized what was happening before her. Even though she could not see their faces, she knew by their words and she recognized their voices now. She had suspected the first for William. The other was certainly Todd.
Anne looked back into her mind, thinking of Agatha Ellington, William’s wife; Olivia’s mother. Anne remembered earlier that night in the kitchen–the woman clenching her side because of some discomfort. In fact, Anne knew that had not been the first time the woman had suffered such pains.
Anne had never liked the woman, seeing her as some horribly unattractive creature that somehow managed to have a good life and produce children without inflicting her looks upon them. The nurse would admit that the woman might have been the only thing keeping her from her dream of prosperity, but murder? Wasn’t that what they were speaking of?
It all made sense. If William was done with his wife, divorce was simply out of the question. Agatha’s family land, money, and the children would leave her. If she simply died, William would be left with everything, with no damage to his reputation.
William
was conspiring to keep her sick–to kill her. Anne was not sure how she felt about that. She was shocked–possibly as shocked as she’d been to wind up in the toy world–but she hardly had time to contemplate it further. A whisper had arisen behind her.
“Well, well, look what we found.”
The whispery voice broke off into two sets of laughter. Though the voices were quiet, the degree of her surprise was intense. She jerked around from the vent, forgetting about the words she’d just heard for the immediate threat behind her.
The light of the hallway illuminated the lurkers just enough for her to know them. If she hadn’t been so terrified by their sight, she might have thought that they had seen better days.
Brooke’s pair of brothers stood there before her, alive and well again just as Brooke had told her. They were very different from before, having been mended and adopted by the marionette troupe. She saw their strings and their bladed hands.
The blond one’s face was cracked thoroughly, but had been newly glazed. The red–haired soldier had half of his head improvised by a featureless ball of wood. But that didn’t keep either of them from smiling at her.
“The Master will be pleased,” whispered the puppet with the fair hair. “Here we were looking for brother, and instead we find this strumpet.”
How to get out of this, Anne? she wondered. These two certainly cannot be happy with you. Armand isn’t happy with you. Brooke is gone…
Perhaps if Brooke came back, these two would forget about her and she could escape. But that was a bad thought. She couldn’t possibly have anything to do with trading Brooke for herself. She did have a choice to make however. Was she too proud to call for help?
No, you fool! Not if it means your life!
Anne screamed, for no one in particular, ringing her voice as loud as it would go. Then there were strings wrapped about her already aching neck. The marble fell from her grasp, rolling away on its own to fade.
