The Nutcracker Bleeds by Lani Lenore Page B

it happen. It’s like what the dark–haired boy used on our
Lady Sovereign.”
    Anne
could hardly focus on what he was saying, but this clicked with her.
    “W–hat…?” Todd?
    “Well…she
didn’t seem to like it much, but he said he loved her, and then he used the
tool. And I’ve seen it used in other places throughout the house as well!” His
eyes once again grew sinister. “In fact, I’ve seen that other man use it on you .
Filthy wretch, he is! And you! Guilty as sin! Making me jealous…”
    “No,”
Anne protested, pointing toward the jester’s splintered, wooden attachment.
“That’s not…”
    Her
words fell off. She choked on them. She couldn’t think of anything to say about
this. Dream? Nightmare? Reality? Oh God … Her breath caught in her
throat. She backed away continually.
    “I
don’t fully understand it,” the puppet said. “I just know that I want it !”
    His
voice became a low growl. He clenched his fists tightly and she could see the
frustration in his eyes–a long time of it built up inside. Toys with sexual
desires, with no way to release them… It was too much for her! What part of her
mind had produced these evil ideas? Was it Olivia’s influence on her that had
forced her to dream these things?
    But
the trouble at hand quickly resurfaced past all her delving. It was not the
insane world of toys that she needed to be concerned with, it was this toy before her now. With or without her permission, the puppet was intent on
using that ghastly contraption on her.
    “That
thing would kill me!” she screamed, though any hope of reasoning with this
toy–this demon –had vanished from her.
    “I
could tell that it might hurt in the beginning, but it must be done. It’s all
there is left.”
    His
insistence was spoken darkly, and she didn’t waste time. Anne turned on her
heels and ran. She knew she was going the wrong way–back toward the shafts she
had just come from–but she didn’t care as long as she could at least find a
place to hide.
    She
didn’t get far.
    She
felt it around her ankles first–laces that slipped around her flesh and
tightened. She was pulled to the ground. The cat’s eye rolled loose from her
grip and she saw what was happening now. The strings were grabbing her.
    The same
strings that she’d tied to herself in order to retrieve the relic were moving
on their own by the puppet’s command, twisting around her arms and legs. The
laces pulled at her. She fought. The strings slammed her against the wall of
the shaft and her breath left her.
    Anne
struggled to draw in more air, but it was now thick with the dust that had been
knocked loose from the wall. As if the former hadn’t been a hard enough impact
to calm her down, the strings dropped her to the floor. Too easily, they spread
her weak body apart.
    The
jester puppet–the owner and governor of those strings–stood over her, his grin
wider than it had ever been. His eyes flashed.
    “You
can’t restrain love,” he told her, sucking air in through his teeth. She
realized then that he was salivating. The ‘ how ’ of it was not important.
    The
puppet slumped down over her, leering. Anne didn’t beg to be released, didn’t
cry or scream. The jester was concentrating deeply on her, and while he took
her in, preparing for the thing he’d been anticipating for quite some time,
Anne was grasping for something that had rolled to her fingers. It was smooth,
round, cold .
    She
groaned angrily, felt the wooden stake poke her in that most delicate place–
    –and
then the cat’s eye was in her palm, sailing through the air until it crashed
into the evil puppet’s face.
    The
jester and all his strings recoiled, stumbling back and yelling in pain. Anne
didn’t waste a moment. The marble in her arms, she ran past him and off into
the direction that would take her to the gate. She only hoped he would not be
able to catch up before she reached it. There was still a distance to go, and
she was already